The Lady and the Robber Baron Read online

  With deep regret that she could not satisfy the burning need in her body or his, she leaned back. “Tom, I can’t…” she began, trying to move out of his arms.

  “Yes, you can,” he said, trying to hold her there. “You kissed me. I felt—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted, placing her hands firmly on his chest and pushing him away from her. “I do want you, I can’t deny that, but…” She paused, searching for words to keep from hurting him. “I know it seems crazy to you, but I love my husband, and I’m going to stay and wait for him to forgive me. I don’t care how long it takes. I have to do it.”

  His eyes darkened with pain. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Your friendship and your concern have meant a great deal to me, Tom. I thank you with all my heart.”

  “Jennie, dammit, you deserve so much more…”

  “It’s time we start back now.”

  Tom searched her eyes, saw the determination there, and turned and strode back toward the handcar. Jennifer followed. She could sense his hurt and his frustration, but she knew they had said too many words already.

  Tom worked the pump that powered the handcar with a vengeance, and no one spoke. Once Marianne glanced over at her with questioning eyes but didn’t say anything. Steve looked neither left nor right, but Jennifer could sense his concern.

  As they approached the town of El Moro, Jennifer saw Wendell in his locomotive and a man who looked like Chane assembling a train on a side track. Wendell eased the locomotive back and the man stepped out so she could see him better. It was Chane. He stepped between two cars, set the pin that would link the two cars together, and then stepped back out as Wendell eased the train forward again.

  Watching Chane step between two moving cars horrified her. He shouldn’t be doing such dangerous work.

  “Why is Chane doing that?” she asked.

  Steve shrugged. Tom looked a little sullen, as if he might not answer, but then he said, “Joe Rubosky lost his hand coupling cars this morning. I don’t know why Kincaid would think he has to do it. Other men could have done it.”

  Jennifer knew that train couplings weren’t uniform heights from the ground, and sometimes it was almost impossible to put a train together. They had to use hook and pin couplings just to make a connection. A man could easily get crushed or killed between the cars.

  “Maybe he’s got a death wish,” Tom said, suddenly looking more cheerful. Jennifer flashed him a look that took the smile off his face. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  Jennifer watched as Chane stepped between the next car and the train Wendell was building. She had waited for Chane to approach her again after he’d brought her that rose, but he never had. He’d thrown himself back into his work as if work alone could save him.

  Tom slowed the handcar to a stop. Steve helped Marianne down, and they walked toward the general store. Tom waited until they were out of earshot, then looked from Chane to Jennifer. She started to turn away from the heated light in his eyes, but she couldn’t. “Please, Tom.”

  “No. I love you,” he said. “And whether you’ll admit it or not, I think I have your husband’s blessing to do that.”

  “Then you’ve been misled—”

  “Like hell I have. He’s done everything except tuck us into bed,” he said furiously.

  Jennifer couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make matters worse. She felt the heat from Tom’s lean body, and she was still weak enough to be affected by it.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” he growled, frowning down at her. “He wants to be rid of you. I love you. Give him what he wants. I may look like a bum, but my folks are wealthy. I can give you a good life, and they’d be tickled to death if I brought you home with me.”

  Tom glanced up to be sure Kincaid was still busy with the cars he was coupling. “Jesus!”

  Tom’s brusque comment drew Jennifer’s attention back to the coupling operation. Chane was standing between two cars, and the one behind him was rolling toward him.

  “Slack running car!” Tom shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Slack running car!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

  Chane heard Tom’s yell and looked over his shoulder. The car was much closer than he’d expected, and rolling fast. He jumped aside, but his foot slipped. He felt himself going down, saw the shiny steel wheels aimed right at him, ready to separate him from his legs. He jackknifed in the middle and rolled under the train. The first wheel brushed his legs as it flashed past him. The two cars hit with a resounding smack.

  The cars stopped rolling, and Chane crawled out from under them, stood up, and dusted himself off. He checked the connection and found the pin had set itself. Shaking his head, Chane waved Wendell forward and walked toward Tom Tinkersley to thank him for the warning.

  Wearing a fuchsia gown with white trim, Jennie looked lovelier than ever. Her cheeks were flushed with becoming color. She looked like a woman who had just been kissed. And Tom looked like a man in the throes of love.

  “Thanks for the warning,” he said, stopping before them. Tom jumped down beside Chane, his eyes hard as steel.

  “Don’t mention it,” Tom growled, reaching up and taking Jennie by the waist to help her down from the handcar. As the younger man touched Jennie, Chane could see his eyes soften visibly. The image of Tom’s lean, brown hands on Jennie’s slim waist burned into Chane’s mind like a red-hot branding iron. He could feel jealousy rising like a filthy, suffocating tide.

  He realized Tom was in love with Jennie, and even though this was what he’d thought he’d been wanting, the reality hit him like a fist in the gut.

  Tom slowly turned Jennie loose long after he should have, and glanced guiltily at Chane, then back at Jennie. “I guess I better be getting back,” he said regretfully. “My scouts’ll be coming in any minute.”

  Jennifer’s eyes looked like they needed to say more to Tom, and Chane knew without a doubt that Tom had kissed her, perhaps more than once. He felt sick.

  Tom sauntered away, and Jennifer waited until he was out of earshot. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” she asked.

  “I thought I just did a good job of saving myself.”

  “Why is it every time there’s a dangerous job to be done, you’re right there?”

  “Think of the good side. If I get killed, you won’t have to sneak around to see Tom.”

  Rage shot through her, and her hand flashed up and slapped Chane hard across the cheek.

  The sting of her hand and the look of fury on her face turned his jealousy into rage, too. He grabbed her and pulled her hard against him. She cried out, but he lowered his head and kissed her, muffling her second scream of outrage.

  Her fists pummeled his chest, and even that felt good to him. He relinquished her lips to whisper, “My kisses should be at least as good as Tom’s. Cleaner, by rights.”

  “No!” she cried. “Let me go.”

  Chane stifled the rest of her cries with his mouth, and once started, he was hopelessly lost. He had ached for her for too long. Even though she was resisting him, her mouth was like a balm that tantalized more than it soothed. Her squirming body was like tinder to his match. He could not get enough of her. He felt crazed by the taste and the feel of her. Slowly, she stopped struggling. He felt her begin to soften, her hands begin to lift. He knew she was only seconds away from embracing him.

  Suddenly, a strong hand jerked him loose from Jennie and spun him around. He saw Tom Tinkersley’s furious face and then Tom’s fist, just before it smashed into his mouth.

  Chane’s head rocked back. He caught his balance, sprung forward, and brought Tom down. Then he leaped on top of him and began hitting him wherever he could. Tom fought back like a true Texan.

  Jennifer screamed. She could see that Chane meant to kill. And so did Tom. She knew instinctively that they would not stop until one of them died. Frantically, she screamed and threw herself on Chane, who had pinned Tom down and was sitting astrid
e him, pummeling him with his fists. She caught him by the neck and tried to strangle him, but he ignored her and continued to hit Tom. Finally, a group of men ran up and pulled Chane away from Tom. The town marshal came running from the train station.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” he demanded, glancing from Tom’s battered face to Chane’s bleeding mouth.

  “Nothing,” Tom said. “Just a difference of opinion.”

  “Have your differences in your own camp. I won’t tolerate any fights here.”

  Chane and Tom nodded. Tom’s face was bruised, his left eye swollen shut. Chane bled steadily from the mouth.

  “This happens again, I’ll lock you both up, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Tom said. Chane nodded and pressed his handkerchief to his bleeding lip.

  The marshal looked from Tom to Chane to Jennifer and made up his own mind what the fight had been about. She could see it in his eyes, and she felt diminished by it.

  The marshal left.

  “I guess I’ll be resigning now,” Tom said.

  Shamefaced, Chane glanced at Jennie, then back at Tom. “No. It wasn’t your fault,” he said.

  Under Jennifer’s furious gaze, they shook hands. Then Tom headed back to camp with Wendell, and Chane escorted Jennifer to their palace car, which he’d brought there on business early this morning.

  When they were inside, Jennifer turned on him. “Why are you blaming Tom? Weren’t you the one who pushed us together?”

  “Who the hell says I’m blaming him for anything?”

  “You tried to kill him.”

  A man ran up the steps and banged on the door. Chane walked over and opened it. “Mr. Kincaid, there’s a man down on the tracks. You’d better come.”

  “What happened?”

  “Don’t know. Just keeled over.”

  Chane shot Jennifer a frustrated glance, then followed the man down the steps. Her opportunity had passed. Chane stayed away from her after that. Jennifer vacillated between wanting to search him out to continue their fight and never wanting to see him again. Her anger stewed in her for days. She could hardly look at Chane, even from a distance, without getting hot. And apparently every man on the crew knew Chane and Tom had fought over her.

  She stayed away from Tom as well. She saw by the look in his eye that wasn’t swollen shut that he knew he was being avoided.

  One day, he stopped by the Pullman coach and knocked on the door.

  “I thought you might like to take a ride. It’s a nice day.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Hurt flashed in his eyes. He looked wan and tired and miserable, a lot like Peter when he was in pain after their parents had been killed. Tom turned away, and she reached out and touched his arm. She couldn’t just hurt him without explaining. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I can’t ride with you anymore, not after all that’s happened.”

  “Look,” he said, “I just thought it might help if you got away for a little while. I’m not going to bite you.”

  “I know, Tom. Maybe you’re right.”

  They rode up the mountain so she could see where the railroad was going.

  Raton Pass was the easiest route over the mountains, and it was an integral part of the Santa Fe Trail. Hundreds of thousands of tons of supplies rolled over the pass every month, and Uncle Dick Wootton received a toll on every wagon. Chane had told her he had no idea how Wootton would take to being put out of business by a railroad. The man could put up a fight or side with Laurey. It was anyone’s guess.

  Jennifer decided to pay Wootton a visit. Chane might not approve, but she’d just tell him it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, with no time to consult him.

  The top of Raton Pass was wide and smooth enough to accommodate six or seven wagons abreast. There was a small toll booth with a full-sized barrel beside it. Jennifer stopped at the booth and the man instructed her to toss her dollar into the barrel.

  Several wagons were parked in front of a building with a general-store sign on it. A family of children sat out on the porch, probably waiting for their parents.

  Uncle Dick Wootton had built a restaurant and a hotel with a dance floor, which had become a favorite gathering place for young people on Saturday night. Jennifer had heard that young people from the neighboring farms and ranches went there to dance and gaze at the Spanish Peaks bathed in moonlight. Some of the men from Chane’s railroad crews rode all the way up there to dance and drink and flirt.

  Jennifer went into the store and asked for Wootton.

  “Sorry, ma’am, everybody comes through here wants to meet him, he’s become such a celebrity over the years, but he’s taking a trip to Santa Fe at the moment. Be back tomorrow night, supposedly.”

  “Thank you,” Jennifer said, disappointed.

  The ride back was pleasant, but Tom seemed agitated. Finally, he suggested a stop to rest the horses in the shade of a tall pine. He tried to assist her in dismounting, but she waved him away. It felt good to get out of the saddle herself. She walked over to a huge old loblolly pine and leaned against it, looking out over the valley below. Off in the distance she could see the glint of the tracks Chane’s crews were laying. Wootton must know they were coming. Folks had to pass the crews on the trail. And no one kept secrets around here. Every tidbit of news was pondered over and discussed.

  “Jennifer,” Tom said, a frown creasing his brow.

  “Yes?”

  “I suppose I should apologize for my actions in El Moro, but I can’t. I wish I’d killed the bastard.”

  “Tom, I think it would be best if we start back now.”

  Tom turned and strode toward the horses. He mounted and started down the mountainside. Jennifer followed. The ride back was quiet and uneventful. Neither of them spoke again.

  The Raton Mountains loomed ahead—the railroad’s greatest challenge. It would probably take a month or two of hard work to lay rails up the side of the mountain between them and Raton Pass. The grade the surveyors had laid out was an unusual one. They recommended a series of switchback wyes. The train would go up a grade, throw a switch, then back onto another level, then throw another switch and go forward again, seesawing its way to the top. That would avoid the strain of four-percent grades all the way.

  Tom Tinkersley and his scouts stayed busy from dawn until dark almost every day. Jennifer didn’t know whether Chane kept him so busy or Tom did it to himself, but he avoided her. His scouting uncovered that Laurey’s crew was less than two weeks from the New Mexico border.

  Chane had to keep the momentum going. Losing the race to the border at this point was to go broke for no reason. Unless they reached the New Mexico state line, the railroad wouldn’t qualify for Colorado’s generous land grants that would put them into the black no matter how much red ink they’d spread on paper to get there. This was how he was planning to keep his promises to the men who were working without pay.

  Payroll was the tenth of May, but the bank accounts Chane had opened with the gold his grandfather had given him were empty. The funds raised by selling bonds and the loans from various banks were used up as well. They didn’t dare miss this payroll. The Chinese weren’t willing to take land, because they didn’t intend to stay, and Chane needed every one of them to make the assault on the Raton Mountains.

  Chane wired his broker in New York and asked him to sell steamship stock in excess of fifty-one percent and deposit the money into his bank account. A wire came back that $150,000 had been deposited. It was accompanied by an apology. Steamship stock was down because of fears raised by the recent sinking of two major steamers during a typhoon.

  While Chane was pondering the wire, Tom walked in with the mail. “Thanks,” Chane said, taking it.

  Tom seemed to be laboring under a powerful emotion. The bruises on his face had faded, but he looked wan and tense. “Excuse me, Mr. Kincaid…”

  “Yes?” Chane asked. He’d avoided Tom except when they had business together. But since the fight, Chane had realized it was
n’t sane to resent a man like Tom for wanting Jennie. Any man would.

  “I’d like to take some time off. I need to go into town on personal business,” Tom said, trying to hide his embarrassment.

  “How much time?”

  “Rest of the day,” he said gruffly.

  “I guess you’ve earned it. More than earned it.”

  “Thanks,” Tom said stiffly, turning to leave.

  Chane carried the wire from New York to Jennie, who was working in the office car. Jennie’s blond head was bent over the general ledger. She had turned into a creditable bookkeeper. No one would have ever guessed it to look at her, though. She was more beautiful than ever. He felt like he was seeing her this way, and actually appreciating her, for the first time. “How many bills do we have outstanding?” he asked.

  “Including the payroll on the tenth?”

  “Yes.”

  “About three hundred fifty thousand.”

  Chane handed her the wire. She read it quickly, then looked up at him, waiting, her beautiful violet-blue eyes clouded with understanding and concern. A rush of gratitude for her help and her caring washed through him.

  “Unless Lance gets here in time, we’re likely to lose the Chinese.”

  “But the money is coming. Have you heard anything from Lance?”

  “No.”

  “Meet the payroll on the tenth. Let suppliers wait,” she said, leaning back and putting her pencil down.

  “If we don’t pay our suppliers, they won’t send us the next shipments.”

  “But by then we’ll be over Raton Pass,” she reminded him. “What about your father?”

  Chane wired his father’s assistant that he needed $300,000. The answer came right back. It was a short message from his father’s secretary, telling him that his father had not yet returned from his trip, and that his assistant was in bed with pneumonia and consumption of the lungs and bowels. The secretary ended the wire saying he would stand by for instructions and do everything in his power to help.