“Don’t be ridiculous,” he chided. “You’ve already given me leave to call you Amey. Besides, it will seem awfully strange if you don’t call me by my given name. We’re supposed to be married, remember?”
“Fine,” she replied through clenched teeth. “I’ll call you Lincoln.”
“What was that?” he asked. “I couldn’t hear you.”
“I said,” she started, her voice rising, “I will call you Lincoln.”
A smug smile came to his face. “Thank you, Amey.”
“You are an irritating man,” she commented.
He chuckled. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I can only imagine.”
Lincoln escorted her onto the train, and they walked down the narrow hallway until they found their Pullman car. Once they stepped inside, Amey couldn’t help but admire the dark green, papered walls, and the small golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
“This is beautiful,” she murmured.
Lincoln placed her carpetbag under his bench. “It is.”
Amey sat down and ran her hand along the red velvet bench. “I’ve never been in a Pullman car before,” she admitted.
“Never?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never wanted to spend the additional funds to secure one.”
“They are rather expensive,” he commented as he sat down.
“Have you been in one before?”
He nodded. “Quite frequently.”
Amey turned her attention toward the window. “We hardly know one another,” she said. “Perhaps we should spend the next few hours becoming acquainted.”
“Why?” he asked, resting his head against the back of the bench. “I’d prefer to take a nap.”
She brought her gaze back to meet his. “I’ve never had a partner before, but wouldn’t it be beneficial if we became friends?”
Lincoln closed his eyes and stretched out his long legs. “I don’t have any friends.”
“What if I became your friend?”
“No, thank you.”
“Why don’t you have any friends?”
“Because friends make you weak. Vulnerable. And I’m neither one of those things.”
“I must agree with you there,” she replied. “That’s why I don’t have very many friends, either.”
Pulling his hat down over his eyes, he asked, “Has anyone told you that you talk too much?”
“No one ever has.”
“Truly?”
“In Chicago, I worked alone, and I lived alone,” she admitted. “There were very few people around for me to talk to.”
“Shhh,” Lincoln said, bringing his finger up to his lips.
She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Do you intend to sleep the entire way to Longworth?”
“Yup.”
“Are you always this cantankerous?”
“Yup.”
“All right.”
After a long moment, Lincoln tilted his hat up to meet her gaze. “Why don’t you rest?”
“We never sleep, remember?” she joked.
Lincoln chuckled. “Well, as the lead agent on the case, I’m ordering you to take a nap.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m afraid that I’m not very tired.”
He shoved back his hat and huffed. “Fine. What is it that you want to know about me?”
“Do you have a middle name?”
“Yes, it’s James.”
“Do you come from a large family?”
“No.”
She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t, she pressed, “Did you have any siblings?”
Sorrow filled his face. “I had two older brothers, but they died in the war,” he shared softly.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she murmured.
He brought the hat down to cover his eyes. “No more questions,” he said gruffly.
Amey turned her gaze toward the window and listened to the rhythmic clickety-clack of the train’s steel wheels as it ambled through the countryside. The scenery was very different in Denver than it was in Tucson. How she hated the cactus, sand dunes, and the unbearable heat!
She was so lost in her thoughts that it took her a moment to register the sound of a cocking pistol. To her surprise, Lincoln was aiming a revolver at her, and he had a stern look on his face.
Amey arched an eyebrow as she met his gaze, challenging him. “Do you intend to shoot me, Mr. Hoyt?”
Lincoln shook his head disapprovingly as he lowered his revolver. “Pinkerton agents must always be prepared for the unexpected. That was pathetic. I could have robbed you and shot you before you even glanced my way.”
“I’d never considered you a threat,” she replied honestly.
“You must treat everybody as a potential threat,” he instructed as he leaned forward and tucked his pistol in the back of his trousers.
She furrowed her brows. “What a sad way to live.”
“It’s the only way to survive as an agent.” He looked at her expectantly. “How many guns are on your person?”
“Two,” she answered proudly. “I have a derringer in my corset, and a revolver in the reticule around my left wrist.”
“How well can you shoot?”
She smirked. “I’m a terrific shot.”
“We shall see,” he replied dismissively. “What were you thinking about that caused you to become so distracted?”
Glancing over at the window, she replied, “I was thinking about how different the scenery was in Tucson. It’s a land filled with cacti.”
He cocked his head. “Do you miss Tucson?”
“Heavens, no,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “I left because I wanted a new adventure, and I succeeded when I became a Pinkerton agent.”
“And Tucson didn’t have any excitement?”
Amey huffed. “Heavens, no. It was safe.” She hesitated before adding, “It was boring.”
“Do you come from a large family?”
“No. I had a brother, but he died,” she said, her voice hitching.
“And your parents?”
Lowering her gaze to her lap, she shared, “They disowned me when I left for Chicago to become a Pinkerton agent.”
“They did?”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
Tears threatened to fill her eyes, but she blinked them away. “It was for the best,” she admitted weakly. “They never truly understood me.”
Lincoln leaned forward in his seat, and with compassion in his voice, he said, “Not everyone believes that you should follow your dreams. Some people are content with never knowing what could have been.”
“Very true,” she replied. “Did you follow your dreams?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“I’m glad,” she replied, conjuring up a smile.
Lincoln returned her smile. “My parents weren’t pleased that I left the family business to become a Pinkerton agent, either.”
“I can only imagine.”
His smile dimmed. “They haven’t disowned me, yet, but they told me that they were disappointed in me.”
“How awful,” she murmured.
His jaw clenched as he remarked, “They are only words.
