Page 50 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow

Lizbeth snatched the paper from her youngest sister’s hand.

“West promised it was foolproof!” Lacey wailed. “He said it’d buy us a future together. And now I can’t find him anywhere and this was hiding where we’d promised to meet one another.” She swiped at her red cheeks.

Sick, Lizbeth read the bill of sale from a mine she’d never heard of.

She stepped back. “What mine did you sell him to? Is he here in New River?”

“I—I don’t know. I can’t remember the name of it but we met some man down near the train yard. West said he heard that mules were bein’ sent to Kentucky and that Eugene could go too. Y’all were plannin’ on selling him anyway so I didn’t think you’d be too sad about it.”

A prickly heat crept over Lizbeth’s body, intensified when Pa’s voice rose over Lacey’s tears. “And now no one has seen hide nor hair of this man since he put you up to this. That so?”

Lacey scrubbed a palm against her damp cheek. “Yes, sir.”

Lizbeth sank into a chair.

“When did you last see them?” Pa’s gaze all but pierced Lacey.

Chin trembling, Lacey shook her head. “Maybe an hour ago? West took him down to watch for the four o’clock train. Mr. Jorgensen had said that mules were in transit and that he was buying several himself.”

Pa’s gaze narrowed. “And do you know where he is at this exact moment?”

“Mr. Jorgensen’s in his office,” Lacey stammered.

“I mean the mule.” Pa’s voice barely concealed his anger.

Lacey’s chin trembled again. “No, sir. Just that West has him and plans to get him onto the northbound this evenin’.”

“Can we still find him?” Lizbeth’s voice shook.

Pa reached for his coat. “We’ll head over there now.”

Lizbeth rose for her sweater.

Pa slid into his coat, turning up the worn collar against his beard. “I’ll go hitch up the wagon.” He pointed a thick finger at Lacey. “And you. We’re gonna have a long talk when I get back. Where’s the money from the sale? We’ll need it to try and get that mule back.”

“I don’t have it,” Lacey wailed. “West has it all. He has it!”

“Confounded child.” Pa trailed behind Lizbeth, tugging on his coat. “We’ll have to look for West as well.”

“Something the matter?” Callum asked.

William lowered the itinerary that he’d been staring at for ten minutes now. “At the last depot, I noticed the train coupled to several new stock cars. Carrying mules.”

“Mules?”

“Heading the same direction we are.”

“What do you suppose that means? Beyond the obvious, that is.”

William shifted in his seat, the pistol in his shoulder holster brushing the padded upholstery.

Across the dining room, the only remaining engineer sat reading a newspaper.

The others had disembarked at the last several stops, one at a time.

Yet the engineer Callum had scouted out remained.

Finally, William had one on his side. Now to just arrive in New River.

.. “It means that I’m not confident the mining industry is ready for the kind of change we’re thinking of. ”

“It might not be, but is this the time to panic?”

“No.” William shook his head. “I’m not panicking.”

“Just worrying.”

“We’ve been told a few dozen times that this plan is far-fetched. Yes, I truly believe it’s the way of the future. But is it the way of the distant future?”

“But you said it was being done in another mine. You even have proof.”

William rubbed his jaw with a tired hand. “But it doesn’t mean people are ready for that kind of change. Not Jorgensen or even New River.”

“But Jorgensen won’t be the owner. Not much longer.”

“Fair. But he’s the one who will make the decision.” What would happen if someone else became the owner of the New River mine? What would that mean for the Bennet family and their farm? Lizbeth’s future... her livelihood? When William voiced that concern, Callum chucked him on the shoulder.

“You’ll cross that bridge when you come to it. Not sooner, my friend.” He flashed a cheery grin that missed its landing. “Which has never been your way. You like to be one step ahead at all times.”

“That I do.” A strength, yes, but sometimes a weakness.

“Worry won’t get you anywhere. What do you intend to do ?”

“Right.” Rising, William moved to the center of the room to show Callum what the maintenance man had taught him. Of how the battery was charged by the simple movement of the train’s axles. Its wheels.

The squeal of brakes broke the silence.

At the window, Callum nudged the curtain aside. “Is it just me or are we going slower?”

“Maybe we’re approaching a grade.” Not possible, though. He knew where they were and this section of track never gave cause to slow.

The train lurched. Cups rattled. William braced a hand to the wall.

“Oh!” The portly engineer slunk down in his seat. His glasses fell off, landing on his padded chest. He struggled to slide the earpieces back into place. “I don’t believe that was supposed to happen.”

William fought for balance. “We shouldn’t be slowing. Not yet.” He had spent his adult life travelling these rails and knew the routes by heart. How many hours lived between one depot and the next. There was no reason for this train to slow.

The train lurched again. Brakes squealed louder.

“What in tarnation?” The engineer fumbled his spectacles again.

Not liking what this could imply, William unclasped the holster against his rib cage.

“Is it a robbery?” the engineer cried.

“I highly doubt it.” William snapped the holster across his chest. He would be prepared nonetheless. “You’re welcome to put your billfold in the safe if you’d like.” Before he could even walk that way, there came a pounding on the door.

The engineer dabbed at his glistening forehead with his handkerchief.

“I’ll keep an eye on the back end.” Callum started that way.

William strode the opposite direction, past the kitchen and servants’ berths.

There, the porter clung to the wall like a strip of peeling paper. “What should I do, sir?”

Seeing Cook standing wide-eyed in the kitchen, William summoned her out. “Both of you can go to my stateroom.” It was farthest from either entrance. “Lock the door for good measure.”

“I’m not leaving you, sir.” Cook’s chin squared toward whoever their intruder was.

The pounding came again.

William approached the door. “Is this the conductor?” He unholstered his pistol and braced it between both hands.

The pounding came again. “It’s the carriage driver. For your aunt, Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh. She’s here waiting.”

“Oh, move aside!” Aunt Catherine’s voice stabbed through the painted slab.

William lowered the gun.

The woman’s gravelly voice clawed at him. “Open this door right now, William, or so help me, I’ll put a stop to more than just this train.”