Sam Murdock had only smiled, and accompanied Ginny from New Mexico back to San Antonio, his lavish Pullman gliding over the rails with such swift efficiency she had almost regretted the end of the journey.
“I have a meeting with the senator,” he said when she expressed her gratitude for his generosity and companionship on the trip, “and thought perhaps you might prefer having my company.”
For Ginny, seeing William Brandon again had been a bittersweet parting, for she had never seen him look so distressed or so old, not even after he had been shot. It struck her, seeing him in this new light, that she had never really known him, not the real man, not the man capable of such greed and deception, such careless cruelty.
Perhaps his crimes were catching up with him, reflected now in his face and eyes, in his slower step and the air of defeat that wreathed him.
“Give Sonya my love,” she had said when she left him in San Antonio. She wondered if she would ever see either of them again. Time and circumstances took her so far at times, were so often uncertain….
Where would she go once she had her children with her again? Would Steve come after them, or just after the children?
When the steamer chugged slowly out of the harbor, Ginny stood at the porthole watching the shoreline fade into the distance, feeling melancholy and pensive.
Silly of me, she thought, but I had hoped Steve might come after me, as he did before. It’s all so futile, when I had such hope….
The heat was crushing, oppressive in the stuffy confine of the stateroom. In desperation Ginny abandoned privacy and made her way above deck. She moved to the rail, ignoring the interested gazes in her direction, grateful for the feel of the cooler wind on her face and in her hair.
Hardly a day out of Vera Cruz, Ginny was resigned to spending most of the voyage in her cabin. Two of the male passengers had attached themselves to her with an annoying tenacity, though the younger man, James Tyler, was more doting than offensive.
Mr. Andrews, a bluff, hearty man with whiskered jowls and a touch of gray in his dark hair, was particularly persistent, insisting that he had met her somewhere before.
“Perhaps in San Francisco? You are not a woman a man would ever forget, Mrs. Morgan.”
“You are too kind, Mr. Andrews, but I fear that I have no recollection of our ever meeting before.” Ginny rose from her chair, intent upon returning to her cabin. Andrews put out a hand to stop her.
“No, please, I did not mean to run you off, Mrs. Morgan, I only thought we had met before. Don’t leave us. We need another player for a hand of piquet. Say you’ll stay.”
“You may be sorry if I do, Mr. Andrews, for I’m a fair hand at cards. I don’t often lose.”
He smiled, his eyes roving over her face in a most disagreeable manner. “Neither do I, Mrs. Morgan. Neither do I.”
It was a challenge, and it gave her inordinate pleasure to best Andrews at cards, even at poker, which he boasted had made him his fortune. “I won my land and railroad stock that way!”
“Perhaps you should invest in a more dependable venture next time,” she said sweetly as she tucked her winnings into her small velvet purse and pulled the drawstrings closed. “I seem to have beaten you.”
Andrews rose politely as she stood, but there was a taut set to his mouth. “You must allow me to recoup my losses, Mrs. Morgan.”
“Why, Mr. Andrews, then I will have lost!” She laughed lightly, enjoying his discomfiture, and allowed the smitten Mr. Tyler to escort her belowdecks.
“Thank you,” she said pointedly at the door, and he had the good grace to blush deeply and retire.
For the next two nights, out of boredom more than anything else, Ginny found herself in the dining hall with the gentlemen, playing cards and winning a great deal of the time. Though he tried, Mr. Andrews was unable to recover his losses from her, and she could tell that it grated on him.
When the ship docked in Galveston, she left the dining area early, preferring the refuge of her stateroom to the chaos of passengers disembarking. Thank heavens the odious Andrews was one of the passengers leaving at Galveston! The thought of crossing the Atlantic with him was dismaying.
The younger man was more courteous, but she saw with a sigh that he was infatuated.
“Please, Mr. Tyler, I cannot possibly allow you to be alone in my cabin with me,” she told him in exasperation when he asked if he could join her for a glass of wine in her stateroom. They stood at the door. The heat was stifling in the passageway; perspiration dotted his upper lip and forehead.
He looked almost desperate.
“Y-you are the m-most beautiful woman I have ever s-seen,” he managed to get out in a stutter, “and I consider it an honor just t-to be in your presence.”
It seemed like forever since she had been told that she was beautiful in such a sincere, sweet way, and Ginny was touched. Impulsively, she leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you, Mr. Tyler.”
“Well,” a familiar, drawling voice said behind her, “it seems that I always happen to show up at the wrong time, doesn’t it, green-eyes.”
Her heart leaped, and she turned to see Steve standing in the shadows of the passageway. His dark-blue eyes gleamed with amused lights. Half laughing, half crying with relief, Ginny flung herself at him.
“Steve!”
As his arms went around her, holding her tightly against him, he said softly, “You never do what I tell you, you maddening creature! It’s damn
