Longarm was incensed. “Well, why don’t they just insulate the wall between number three and the furnace?”
“If they tried to do it with wood, it most likely would catch fire. If they do it with metal, which they have, the metal just conducts the heat like a frying pan on a stove.”
“Surely it must have a window I can open to at least keep the temperature bearable.”
“Nope. You see, number three was originally a storage room. But they made it into a sleeping compartment.
Pete frowned. “I’m sure that your department must have known about this compartment and took it because of the discount.”
“Discount?” Longarm’s jaw dropped.
“Why, sure! We had so many complaints over number three that they dropped the firstclass fare to just ten dollars over the price of a second-class ticket.”
“I’ll kill Billy,” Longarm vowed passionately.
“Marshal, before you get too upset, remember that you do get to eat yourmeals in the Hotel Express dining car, and that does cost an extra four dollars a day.”
The conductor reached for another passenger’s ticket. “Really, Marshal, it’s hot in number three, but you can hang out in the parlor car and you’ll still eat like a king.”
Only slightly mollified, Longarm went over to Irma and picked up her bags. She said, “You don’t look very happy. Is there a problem?”
“I’ll tell you about it later,” he growled. “Let’s get you on board and get you a seat in second class, and then you can come down and join me in number three.”
“Number three?” Irma wrinkled her cute little nose. “I think I’ve heard about that compartment. Isn’t it called-“
“Yeah, the sweatbox.”
“Great,” she said. “We can work off all the wonderful food we’ll eat in the dining car.”
“I’m afraid that you’re not going to be allowed to join me in the firstclass dining car. It’s against the rules.”
Irma wasn’t pleased.
“We’ll be in Laramie in less than four hours,” Longarm said, wanting to console her.
“All right.” Irma sighed, slipped her arm through his, and forced a bloated smile because of her puffy lip. “Let’s board and not let anything spoil our short time together.”
As they walked back over to the boarding steps, the conductor took Irma’s ticket and said, “Second class goes right toward the rear, first class left toward the front.”
“Yeah, sure,” Longarm muttered.
“What happened to your lip, young lady?” Pete asked as he punched Irma’s ticket and returned it to her. “Did this big fella do that?”
It was meant as a joke, but neither Longarm nor Irma so much as cracked a smile.
“Next,” Pete said as he looked past them.
“Thank you,” said the pretty and familiar female voice.
Longarm slowly turned around, and there were Lady Caroline and Mrs. Addie waiting behind him.
“Good morning, Mr. Long.” Caroline directed her perfect smile at Irma. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“My name is Irma. Who are you?”
“I’m Caroline.”
“Lady Caroline,” Mrs. Addie corrected. “And do you have a last name, Irma?”
“Sure.”
“And it is?”
“Stanton. Irma Eloise Stanton.”
“I am Mrs. Addie. That lip does look pretty swollen. Have you consulted a doctor?”
“Naw. It’ll be all right. Hurts when Custis kisses me too hard, but he’s worth the pain, aren’t cha.”
Longarm was mercifully spared further embarrassment because the locomotive engineer blasted his steam whistle and Pete called, “All aboard!”
“I hope we have a chance to get to know each other better,” Lady Caroline said to Irma with genuine warmth. “I’m sure that you are a very fascinating person.”
“Uh,” Longarm stammered, “that won’t be possible, I’m afraid.”
“Why not?”
“Irma gets off at Laramie.”
“I’d like to go all the way to Sacramento, though,” Irma said quickly. “I never been to California, but I hear it’s pretty and always warm.”
