Chapter Ten

“Willow, wake up.”

She’d been in a clearing on the side of the mountain with Graham. He was telling her that he loved her. He was holding her hand while feeding her strawberries, talking about melted ice cream, and washing dishes in a tailored suit. She blinked and turned her face away from the lantern that blinded her.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“It’s Mrs. Sykes. You have an urgent note from the office down the line.”

Willow sat up and rubbed her eyes. She’d rather be basking with Graham in the sun-drenched mountains, but the message sounded foreboding. So was Mrs. Sykes, even in her robe and nightcap. Was it Granny? Mother? Willow prayed everything was alright at home.

She took the unsealed envelope and read its contents.

Our friend has vanished along with the freezer car from Topeka. Search with caution. HIOTW.

Graham was gone? Was that what Calista was saying? The acronym was one they’d used on the ranch whenever one of the cousins was in trouble. Help might be on the way, but Calista was afraid it wouldn’t arrive soon enough, or else she wouldn’t have contacted Willow.

She turned to see Mrs. Sykes still waiting in the doorway. Reading her thoughts, Mrs. Sykes said, “You know the most grievous offense a Harvey Girl can make is to leave her room at night.”

Willow looked at the darkness past her window. Somewhere out there, Graham needed help. There was no time to waste. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Mrs. Sykes said. Then, with a look at Billie, who was sleeping soundly, she added, “Willow, I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but my intuition tells me that there’s more at stake than I know.”

Willow blew out a chestful of anxious air. Mrs. Sykes had always been a smart manager. Why should Willow be surprised she was a smart friend? “Thank you. You won’t be disappointed in me.”

“Be careful, child. If you’re caught, I’ll do my best to cover for you.” And then she left to let Willow get dressed.

When Willow reached the ground floor, she was surprised to see light coming from beneath the door to the kitchen. Had the cooks already started the baking? She leaned against the swinging door just enough to see in. Strangers. No, wait, they were from the warehouse. She remembered the foreman. And there was Mr. Cecil too. Had Graham finally convinced them that there was illegal activity happening under their noses?

“He’s trapped, but we have to be careful how we proceed.” Mr. Cecil folded his silk handkerchief and eased it into his breast pocket. “Someone in the company is looking out for him. It’s public knowledge that he was dismissed yesterday, so if it can be made to look like he returned for revenge . . . maybe one of your boys acted in self-defense?”

“He should’ve left like the rest of them,” the foreman said. “Especially after being left to die on the tracks. Who would’ve thought he valued his job as a busboy more than his life?”

“It’ll be light soon. We need to get him before the town wakes,” Cecil said. “The question is, where do we want to ‘find’ him?”

Willow couldn’t breathe. Her heart hammered in her chest as she floated away from the door. She had to get to Graham first, but where was he? She made it to the front door of the restaurant, and once out the door, she ran toward the depot and the warehouses that lined the tracks.

Cecil had said Graham was trapped. Did they have him in the warehouse? If so, the doors were locked and possibly guarded. She ran around the building, looking for an open window, an unlocked door, some way inside. Then she saw the refrigerated car on the spare track.

Calista had said that the refrigerated car hadn’t made it to the next stop. Willow was familiar with the routines of the shipments, but she’d never seen an ice car left in Emporia. The ice cars had urgent shipments for every Harvey House down the line. They couldn’t be side-railed.

Looking both ways, she hopped down onto the tracks and ran across the rails until she reached the car. There weren’t locks on the ice cars, just a heavy lever to lift out of its traces and swing open. She wedged her hands in the crack and pulled for all she was worth. Immediately the cold air washed over her—so much colder than the ice house had been the day before. The moonlight illuminated crates stacked to the ceiling, but no Graham rushing out to thank her for liberating him.

Her shoulders slumped. She had to find him, and she was running out of time. She spun around and was about to close the door when she heard his voice.

“Willow? Wait!” Graham stepped out from between a stack of ice blocks. His nose and cheeks were red, his fingers curved. “I was hiding, hoping to surprise whoever had locked me in here.”

“We have to go. They’re coming after you.”

“Who?”

“No time. You need to hide. Where can we go?”

“The depot,” he said. “I know a secret way to get in.”

She took his hand, surprised by how cold it was, and ran with him to the depot. The building was locked tight, but Graham picked up a rock and threw it through the glass of the ticket window.

“You know how to get in?” Her voice shook. “What kind of secret is that?”

“It’s railroad property,” he said. “They’ll forgive me.”

He reached between the bars of the window and strained to grab the door handle from the inside. On the outside, Willow wiggled the knob until Graham got the lock released, and then it fell open. They both ran inside, and Graham locked the door behind them.

“Won’t they see the broken glass?” she asked.

“We’re going to lock ourselves in the telegraph office,” he said. “By the time they find us, we will have signaled for help.” He held the door to the little office open and turned the lock after she entered. Removing the cover off the dormant telegraph machine, he said, “I don’t know the whole alphabet, but I do know how to signal my father’s office.”

“It was Mr. Cecil,” she said as he clacked on the telegraph key. “He and the warehouse foreman are conspirators. I heard him in the kitchen planning your disappearance. He’s probably the one who knocked you out last time. He knew you were prying and followed you.” She frowned as Graham shivered. “How long were you locked in that car? You must be freezing.”

“Come here and warm me up.” He turned from the machine and held out his arms.

Willow’s feet carried her there without hesitation. After the scare of losing him, she needed the reassurance that he was with her and that his feelings hadn’t changed. The cold seeped from his clothes, and she could feel his hands like ice on her back, but she was willing to share her warmth.

“This is perfect,” he said. “We just need to move over to the window so we can see who comes to the cold car. That will be important for the inquiry.”

With the sun rising, the lone car was visible, as were the two men driving a wagon to it. Willow buried her head in Graham’s chest when she saw the pickax that one of the men carried to the door of the car. Graham was warming up, but she felt colder and colder.

“You’ve saved my life twice now,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What should we talk about?” He ran his hand over her unbound hair.

“I didn’t have time to put it up,” she said. “Getting to you was more important. I couldn’t fail.”

“And you didn’t fail. You won. We both won. Now it’s time to celebrate.”

Willow was on the verge of asking what kind of celebration could take place in a dark office when Graham’s cold hand touched her cheek. Then his warm lips met hers, just as he’d promised. And just as he’d promised, his strong, thorough kisses made her feel like she’d jumped the track and was careening through unexplored territory. But she wasn’t afraid. She had someone safe with her.

It was the state agents along with a man Graham introduced as his brother who found them in the locked room. By that time, Graham was thoroughly warm, and by that time, Willow wasn’t sure she wanted to leave the office after all. She couldn’t think of another place she’d rather be.