“I—I think so.”
The reverend, Virgil Taggart, joined Freddie behind him. He breathed a prayer of thanks and reached to take the children’s hands one at time. All three boys’ faces were tear-streaked and the youngest’s jagged breathing demonstrated his fear and recent crying. Freddie picked up the smallest one and herded the others toward the door.
“Come on, ma’am.” Seth helped the woman to her feet. She was taller than he’d expected—younger as well. Her red-gold hair had fallen from its mooring and hung over her shoulder in a shiny wave, with hairpins protruding. “You and your boys are safe. We’ll get you all to a doctor.”
“Peony is still under that pile somewhere.” The young woman backed away from the reverend’s outstretched hand and stepped closer to Seth. Her wide hazel eyes, with flecks of gold and green, had the uncanny ability to plead with his sensibilities. “I can’t leave her.”
Startled at that disturbing information, Seth turned back to the corner where he’d found them. Another child buried, injured or worse? “Where was she?”
“Right beside me when the train crashed, but I’m afraid all the shifting debris has covered her.”
“Get back.” He grasped her by the upper arms and moved her. Clearing away twisted metal, he got on his belly and pressed farther into the space from where he’d only just uncovered the passenger and her other children.
A mewling similar to a baby’s drove a shiver up his spine. An infant? Lord, help me find her and get her out of this.
The sound came again, much louder this time.
“That’s her! That’s Peony!”
He spotted a small cage at the same time the woman’s voice and the feline squalling registered. “A cat? Peony is a cat?”
“Do you see her?”
The railcar shifted again.
“Come on, lady!” Freddie bellowed. “I’ve got her. Get out of there, Halloway!”
Seth inched closer, reached for the cage and inched backward. Backing out of the narrow space wasn’t as easy as going forward. He had to push with his elbows and wrists and then scoot the cage along, a fraction at a time. Finally, he had his body out of the tunnel, but a loud creak from above alerted him to imminent danger. He threw his arm over his head a split second before an unhinged seat broke loose.
* * *
Seth’s shoulder and wrist throbbed under what he guessed, due to the numbing cold, was an ice pack. He opened his gritty eyes and squinted against the light that was making his head hurt. He didn’t recognize the room or the pungent earthy smells. The pain in the other hand was appallingly familiar. He’d taken more than one shot during the war, as well as a couple after. A groan escaped his lips.
“Mr. Halloway.” The soft voice near his side added to his disorientation. “Are you in pain?”
Ivory-skinned and hazel-eyed, with a halo of red-gold hair, the woman from the train came into view. She’d rearranged the shiny mass back on her head and had only a scrape on her chin as a result of the ordeal. “You fared well,” he said, barely managing to get the words out.
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”
“And the children?”
“They have a few bumps and bruises from the crash, but they’re safe.”
He closed his eyes with grim satisfaction.
“I’m Marigold Brewster.”
If she was one of the brides, she was certainly a young widow. And more power to the man willing to take on all those kids. “Seth Halloway.”
“I know. The other men told me your name. Thank you for rescuing me.”
“I’m glad you and your boys are all right. Reverend Taggart must’ve been praying the whole while.”
“Well, that’s the thing...”
His head throbbed and the light hurt. He closed his eyes. “What’s the thing?”
“They’re not my boys.”
“They’re not?”
“I never saw them before I boarded the train headed for Kansas.”
“Well, then—”
“They’re yours.”
With his uninjured hand, he touched his forehead gingerly. Had that blow to his head rattled his senses? No, he hadn’t lost his memory. He remembered what he’d been doing before heading off to the wreckage, and he recalled what had happened inside the railcar. “I assure you I’d know if I had children.”
“Well, as soon as you read this letter, along with a copy of the will, you’ll know.”
At the sound of paper unfolding, he opened his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“It seems a friend of yours by the name of Tessa Radner wanted you to take her children upon her death.”
“Tessa... She’s dead?”
“This letter says she is. I’m sorry.”
He remembered his friend well. They’d been neighbors and classmates in Big Bend, Missouri, a hundred years ago. He’d joined the infantry alongside her husband, Jessie. Jessie had made it nearly all the way through the war and had been killed at the end of the Appomattox Campaign in Northern Virginia’s final battle. Seth winced at the magnitude of senseless loss.
Miss Brewster held up the letter, so he could read it. Tessa had gotten sick and her main concern was for her children. She’d believed she was getting better, but had taken a turn for the worse. Arranging to send her children to Cowboy Creek had been her frantic effort to see they were cared for. She’d been a young widow, frightened to die, frightened to leave behind her children. Seth’s chest ached with sorrow and sympathy for his childhood friend. But sending her beloved babies to him? She must have been desperate to believe he was her best choice. What was he going to do with them?
He realized she was still holding the letter and his vision had blurred on the words. He glanced up. “So...you’re
