Sarah's Playmates (12 page)

“You make it sound like it’s over.”

“Sweetheart, it never began.” Tears stung my
eyes. “Don’t do that. I hate it when women cry.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Let’s
stay here for as long as we can.”

“We’ll run outta food. Our provisions were
low to begin with. Your family’s worried sick about you. I’m
sending you to town. It’s due east.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He sighed, his arms tightening around me.
“I’ve no right to fuck up your life like I did mine. I won’t let
that happen.”

I wanted to argue, but I swallowed my
disappointment instead, burying my face in his neck. We sat out by
the lake and talked for hours, until the sun began to dip behind
the trees. The need for food eventually brought us back to the
shack. He held my hand, his thumb rubbing my palm, as we walked
towards the dilapidated building. The time we had spent together
had been easy and relaxing. Nothing about our conversation was
forced, and neither of us had to hide our feelings or pretend to
feel more than we did. The sun had set, the sky tinged in orange
and red streaks. We neared the door.

He drew me into his arms. “I can’t wait to
make love to you tonight.”

“Me either.”

“If I wasn’t starving, I’d take you right
here.”

“That’s barbaric,” I giggled.

“Yeah? I’ve got a bit of Viking in me. It’s
on my father’s side.”

“I’m not surprised.”

He held open the door. “After you.”

“Thank you.”

I was surprised by how dark the interior was.
It didn’t seem as if anyone was there. “Millie?”

Brack was a step behind me. Something moved
out of the corner of my eye, and a thunk sounded. I spun around,
shocked. My lover had collapsed to the floor, the result of a rifle
striking his head. The man who had hit him glared at me.

“I’m Deputy Sheriff Blain. Are you all right,
ma’am?”

Men stepped from the shadows, dressed in
uniforms, and they grabbed Brack, lifting his unconscious form off
the floor and dragging him from the house.

Alarm raced through me. “What are you
doing?”

“Apprehending a wanted man, Miss.” His eyes
roamed over me, missing nothing. I wore a torn and soiled nightgown
and little else.

“Where are you taking him?”

“The county lockup.”

“Where are my friends?”

“At a hotel in town. I’ll escort you to
them.”

Bile rose in my throat. “Thank you.” I had to
send a telegram. He needed a lawyer.

“You’re one of the survivors of the train
wreck. Your parents and Senator Lakewood will be relieved that
you’re no longer a hostage.”

“T-thank you.”

“You’ve had quite an ordeal. You’re a lucky
lady.”

“Do you know anything about Senator
Lakewood’s son, Edmund? He was on the train. Is he alive?”

“Yes, ma’am he is. Walked away without a
scrape.”

I hated the fact that this bit of news
disappointed me. “Thank you.”

“My men will escort you to town. Someone
needs to look at your forehead. You might need stiches.”

“Yes, Sheriff Blain.”

Millie and Isabelle were waiting for me in a
tidy room on the second floor of the Bromly Hotel. The doctor had
treated me in the manager’s office, and I had required two stiches.
I burst through the door, ready to let the tears that threatened
for the last hour overwhelm me.

“There she is!” exclaimed Millie. “Thank the
saints!” I collapsed on the bed, the springs creaking, and began to
cry. Millie sat next to me; her hand touched my back. “What’s the
matter, honey? Why are you crying?”

“What happened?” I sobbed. “We walked into an
ambush.”

“The lawmen were clever,” said Isabelle.
“Jimmy went out to use the facilities, and he didn’t return. Then
Buck went after him, and the same thing happened. They were waiting
for them. Then they knocked on the door and took us to town. We
didn’t tell them you were at the lake.”

“The house must’ve been watched,” said
Millie.

“They have Brack. They took him into
custody.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I know you were growing
fond of the scoundrel.”

“They’ll hang him!”

Millie sighed. “He’s a thieving train robber.
I imagine they will.”

“Are you hungry?” Isabelle sat on the bed.
“We can have food brought up.”

An idea suddenly hit me. I sat up, wiping the
tears away with the back of my hand. I noticed the trunks on the
floor, although they looked damaged. “Is that our luggage?”

“Yes. Thank goodness.” Isabelle smiled
kindly. “You can change into some—”

“Good.” Determination had a steely grip on
me. “I need to wash up. Help me with my hair?” I glanced at
Millie.

She looked confused. “I…suppose so.”

“I need you to do something for me,
Isabelle.”

“What’s that?”

“I need a revolver.”

Her mouth fell open. “Oh, dear.”

I sashayed into the jail wearing a
cream-colored jacket over a full skirt with draped fabric and an
enormous bow at the back. A black hat with fake pink flowers sat
askew on top of my head.

“I’m here to see the prisoner.”

The man in spectacles behind the counter
glanced up, clearly astonished to see me. Wanted posters graced the
wall, and I recognized a poorly done drawing of Brack Corbett,
which hardly did him justice. He was far more handsome in
person.

“Which prisoner, Miss?”

“Brack Corbett.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What would a pretty lady want with a no good
train robber?”

“It’s personal, Mr…?”

“McCormick.”

“It’s none of your business, Mr.
McCormick.”

He scrunched up his face, which made him look
peculiar. “Fine. I’ll take you back, but I gotta search you first.
The last time a woman visited a prisoner she brought in a gun. Can
you imagine that?”

“That’s shocking.”

“The man she gave it to used it on my deputy.
Shot him in the arm, and then he got away. It made us all look bad.
Real bad. It was another six months before we caught up with him.”
He smiled, revealing stained teeth. “My deputies shot him to death.
Getting even sure is satisfying.”

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m
sure it is.”

“So, if you’ll step over here real quick, I
can search you.”

“I can hardly wait.” Nervous bundles of
energy sent my heart racing.

He patted me down, lifting my skirts,
searching for a weapon. His hands brushed against my thighs and
over my bottom. Several deputies came and went, casting interested
looks our way.

One of them muttered, “Don’t know why outlaws
always get the best lookin’ girls.”

When he was satisfied that I hadn’t concealed
a weapon, he led me down a narrow hallway, opening a door, which
revealed a dingy looking room filled with metal bars, spanning
floor to ceiling.

“Here we are.”

I recognized the three men sitting in
separate cells. “Well, look who came to visit,” said Jimmy. Brack
stared at me; his look was vague.

“You got ten minutes.” He pointed at Brack.
“No funny business, you hear?”

“No, sir,” he drawled. “Wouldn’t think of
it.”

“I’ll be checking on you.”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“Smart ass,” he muttered.

I wrapped my hands around the bars.
“Brack.”

“What are you doing here?”

I glanced over my shoulder. We were alone.
With deliberate hast, I unpinned my hat. The item hidden underneath
had given me a cracking headache. I handed him the revolver. “I
brought you a present.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

“This is for you too.” I gave him a thick
roll of twenty-dollar bills. “And, this.” A small piece of paper
appeared. “This is my address in Sacramento. I want you to escape
and find me. Do you think you can do that?”

His grin was enormous. “You’re
somethin’.”

“Somebody’s gotta rescue you.”

“Honey…I don’t wanna burst your bubble, but…”
His look was wistful. “They’ll catch up with me sooner or later.
This’ll only bide us a little time.”

“Fine. I don’t care.” I glanced at Jimmy and
Buck. “You boys look comfortable.”

“You’re an angel, Ms. Collins.”

“You got another chance. What you do with it
is up to you.” My eyes met Brack’s. “And you. I’ll never forgive
you, if you don’t find me.”

“This is foolish.”

I pointed a finger in his face. “I’ve risked
everything for you, you filthy train robber.”

His hand thrust through the bars, grabbing
me. I was pressed against cold metal. His hot, sultry breath fanned
my face. “I’ll find you all right. You got a deal, honey.”

“That’s what I want to hear.” I kissed him,
his tongue sliding into my mouth. “Oh, Brack…”

He pushed me. “Now get the hell outta here!
Get outta town. I don’t want you anywhere near when this goes
down.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

The next day, as I traveled on the Union
Pacific Rail Road headed to Sacramento, I had time to reflect upon
my choices. Brack was more than likely springing himself from jail
at that very moment. Earlier, I had broken off my engagement to
Edmund. He had taken the news poorly, blaming my hasty decision on
the stress of the derailment and my Indian kidnapping.

He had said, “You’re not yourself right now,
my dear. You’ll see things differently when you get home. Your
parents will talk some sense into you.”

As far as I was concerned, my engagement was
over.

Isabelle returned to Chicago. There was no
need to accompany me to California now, since there wouldn’t be a
wedding. I considered her one of my closest friends, whether I
married her brother or not. I would write her letters for the rest
of my life. Millie, my stalwart companion, forever loyal, no matter
how ridiculous my decisions were, was with me on the train.

Hours outside of Sacramento, she tossed a
paper on the table. We were in the dining car having tea. “This
might interest you.”

The headline read:
Corbett Gang. Brazen
Jail Break! Brack Corbett, Buck Bass, and Jimmy McCarty escaped the
Madison County lockup after obtaining a weapon from an unidentified
female. Responsible for the B&O train robbery, the bandits made
off with more than twelve thousand dollars in cash and jewelry.
These men are considered armed and dangerous.

Millie sat across from me. “An unidentified
female?”

“What a hussy,” I whispered, not wanting to
be overheard by the people sitting behind us. “Look. May’s
Department store is having a sale.” I pointed to the paper. “Isn’t
that delightful?”

Millie pursed her lips. “Splendid.”

I laughed, feeling ridiculously happy.

That evening, as we disembarked, I saw my
parents in the crowded station, my mother pointing in my direction.
“There she is!” My mother, a statuesque blonde, was dressed in gray
satin; her fitted jacket had a huge bow at the front, and her
skirts were gathered and draped with a bustle. “Oh, my darling!
What an adventure!” She embraced me, smelling of something floral
and exotic. “We were so worried.” Her English accent was
pronounced.

“I’m fine.”

“You were so brave, my dear. How awful to
have fallen victim to the Indians.”

“They’re no worse than the
Azande
.”

“Oh, they were indeed fearsome, weren’t they?
Bones through their noses and filed teeth.” She shivered.

I linked my arm through hers. “I have so much
to tell. I’m not getting married to Edmund after all.”

“What?” My father, whose graying hair was
hidden under a hat, was a step before us. “What do you mean?” His
accent held a hint of twang.

“I wondered why Isabelle wasn’t here,” said
mother.

“I’ve set my cap on someone else.”

“Oh, darling. Don’t tell me that. The
invitations have all gone out.”

The grin on my face could hardly be
contained. “Daddy, you’ll love him. He’s a bit of a scoundrel, but
then again, you’re fond of the unusual, aren’t you?”

“What’s this about?” He’d stopped
walking.

“I’ve fallen in love with a train
robber.”

My mother gasped.

The next morning, I knocked on the door of my
father’s study. “Daddy?”

“Come in.” Floor to ceiling shelves lined the
walls, filled with books and colorful art from Africa. There was an
ivory tusk resting on a lacquered wooden stand. “What is it,
pumpkin?”

“I need your help with something.”

He’d been out with the horses, and he still
had on his riding boots. Sitting in a comfortable looking leather
chair, he rested his feet on the desk. “Shoot. What is it?”

“I think I might leave. I might live in South
America.”

“What?”

“I need to book passage to Peru.”

“Why the hell would you do that? You just got
here. Who do you know in South America?”

“I’ve made a mess of things. I’ve…fallen for
the wrong man…but I want to make it right.”

“I thought you were kidding about that train
robber.” He sat forward, a look of concern etched into the lines on
his forehead. “You can’t be serious about this Corbett fellow. You
didn’t really take up with a bank robber, darlin’. Tell me it’s not
true.”

“He’s a train robber...and I love him.” I
squared my shoulders, as my lips thinned into a grim, yet
determined, line.

“Jesus Christ! Your mother’s gonna kill you.
I should take you over my knee and slap some sense into you. I
really should.”

A knock sounded on the door. “Miss Collins,”
said an accented voice. “Your guests are here.”

Excitement raced through me. “They are?”

“Yes, Miss.” The maid wore a black frock with
a white apron.

“Where are they?”

“In the parlor.”