Read an Excerpt
1856
(near Hillsdale, Michigan)
Myrna stared out the streaked window at the icy particles that swirled past at a frightening speed. She felt as if her own inconstant future mirrored the bleak scene.
Cold. Stark. Perilous and uncertain.
Elizabeth, her young, excitable neighbor until yesterday, had told her with anxious eyes that her life must not be blessed. Elizabeth's mother, Mrs. Flaherty, suggested that the good Lord might be trying to get her attention. Even the affable grocer, Sean, had given his usual quirk of a smile and dollop of advice—that forces beyond her control were taking her on a not-so-merry adventure—as Myrna dug deep into her reticule for the tight wad of dollars to pay off her store credit. Money gained at a steep price, her peace of mind lost in the trade.
Perhaps they were all correct in their conjectures, she thought with a weary sigh, resting her head against the icy window.
"Uhhnnnh…"
The soft murmur of complaint broke into her dismal thoughts and came from the fragile young girl using Myr-na's skirts as a pillow. Earlier, Sisi had pulled off her coat, though the railcar was hardly warm, and Myrna used it to cover her. Gently she pushed stray tendrils of light brown curls from the child's damp forehead, finding her skin heated to the touch. She drew her brows together in concern.
Sea-green eyes, a shade lighter than Myrna's, grog-gily opened.
"Are we there yet?" Sisi asked with a yawn.
Myrna grinned at the endless question again repeated. "I told you, we won't be there till the morning. And likely won't be at our cousin's till the early evening."
Myrna didn't admit she had no idea exactly where their cousin lived, having only an address on a sheet of paper found in her late father's things. But she didn't wish to cause Sisi undue alarm. For being all of seven, the child had endured far more fear and uncertainty than many people three times her age.
"Do you think he'll like us?" Sisi pushed herself up to sit, using Myrna's legs as leverage. The coat slid from her thin shoulders and fell to the bench.
"I'm sure he'll love you, my pet. Who could not?" She tweaked Sisi's nose. This earned her a ghost of a smile, as if Sisi was afraid to let the scrap of happy confidence bloom.
There had been far too many wavering smiles in the past and so many disappointments. It wasn't fair, not one bit, and Myrna silently vowed to do all she could to make Sisi feel safe again. If she must work from the first glimmer of dawn to past the setting of the sun, she would do it. The prospect of meeting a distant cousin and begging for work and a roof over their heads failed to settle well with her McBride pride. But for Sisi, she would grovel in the dirt if she must.
Again she noted the pinched look on Sisi's flushed face.
"Are you not feeling well, sweetness?"
"I'm hungry," Sisi complained, holding her tummy.
Myrna wasn't surprised. The bread and cheese Mrs. Flaherty gifted them with before their hurried departure had been devoured long hours ago.
Spotting the flowered hat of the lady who earlier had been selling apples from a basket, Myrna fished a penny from her reticule. "Then we must do something about that. I'll just be a moment," she reassured before rising from her seat and maneuvering the narrow aisle, heading to the front of the train car.
Almost there, she watched a porter move through the door of the attached car. He made eye contact, giving a polite tug of his cap. The mild boredom in his eyes flashed to alarm at the same time the earsplitting screech of metal grinding against metal filled her ears. Rapidly he swung his head around to look.
Terrified, Myrna grabbed the nearest bench seat before whirling to hurry back to Sisi. The gaslights flickered. A stir of hushed voices lifted in alarm. A woman screamed.
The train car jarred with the horrendous force of impact, followed by a distant explosion. Thrown off her feet, Myrna grabbed for a handhold, catching nothing but air. She cried out Sisi's name in the moment before her head smacked against something hard, and her mind went black.
Dalton grabbed the seat before him, unconsciously flinging his free arm sideways in protection against the elderly woman to his left.
The car went dark. Somewhere, a woman screamed, her panicked words lost in the shrieking and weeping that filled the former gaps of nocturnal silence as the car swayed and careened. Dalton lost his hold, thrown to the aisle. Pain ripped through his upper arm. At last the rail-car swung to a slow standstill, landing back on all wheels with a thudding crash. The acrid stench of smoke and flame pervaded his nostrils.
Struggling to curb his fear, Dalton awkwardly sat up. "Are you all right?" he asked the woman, who lay slumped over on his seat. The whirling snow outside the windows provided a muted glow of light. Where it failed to reach, there remained only thick darkness.
The woman gave an abrupt nod, pushing herself up to sit. "I—I think so. My leg is stuck."
That area was in shadow. Dalton could barely see the floor or her skirt to view the damage and attempt to extricate her from the wreckage. He found he was able to move, his legs intact and functional, unhampered by debris. But his left arm throbbed with fire and felt useless. Glancing down, he saw a patch of darkness had soaked through his sleeve. Except for feeling as if he'd been in a fistfight and had come out on the losing side, he felt otherwise unscathed. Yet no matter how he tried, he could not release the woman from her predicament using one arm. She moaned.
"I'll find help." He shivered as a sudden gust of wind hit him. Windows were broken, the freezing air blowing through both sides. From somewhere he heard a man pray in broken syllables for divine intervention.
Dalton carefully stood to his feet. A powerful wave of dizziness threatened to send him to his knees, but he fought it and moved up the narrow passage. The only porter he'd seen recently had been at the front of the car, and he headed that way.
On either side, passengers worked to free themselves from debris, crying, whispering, taking inventory of their condition. The dark shape of a woman hobbled his way, knocking directly into him. He grabbed her around the waist to stop her when she tried to push past and take him with her in the process.
"Please." Her husky plea came to him from the shadows concealing her face. "I must find Sisi." She put an unsteady hand to her head. In the minimal light, he barely made out a dark streak running down one side of her temple to her cheek. "Sisi, where are you, my pet? Why won't you answer?"
Her voice wavered on a hysterical note and she swayed. Dalton grabbed her by the arms. Her knees gave out and instinctively he brought her close, barely able to hold her up, his injured arm weakened with pain.
