Thunder on the Plains (37 page)

“Well, when Dr. Durant hired me, I promised him the C.P. would not outdo us. We're right on schedule. The Indian attack a couple of days ago slowed us only a little. There weren't so many of them, and we had plenty of warning. Still, the Indian problem is tremendous. And of course there are accidents, and the weather out here can be vicious.”

“Statistics show we're losing an average of one man for every mile of track,” Sunny replied. “I wish we could improve that. It upsets me tremendously.”

“We're working on making the men more safety-conscious, but as far as the weather and Indians and prairie fires and the like, those are things we can't control, other than to have good scouts. I'm sorry there are only a few soldiers in camp today. The bulk of them went riding after those renegades who attacked us. There just don't seem to be enough soldiers to go around, with all this trouble.”

“I know. Doctor Durant and I both have been pestering President Johnson to make sure enough troops are supplied for your protection. I think the president finally realizes the gravity of the situation. He and so many others just don't realize how big this land is, how isolated these men are.”

Casement, Sunny, and Stuart had finished lunch and were walking past the Landers train and the first supply train, on down to the work train. Men standing on platforms stared, some of them removing their hats when Sunny looked at them. Stuart called out a “good afternoon” to them, going up and shaking some of their hands. Shouted orders became louder and more numerous and the men moved a little faster, knowing they were now being watched. Men ran for a rail, ripped it off the rail cart, ran back to the waiting ties, dropped it, and stepped back to let the spike men secure the rail in place.

“We're laying a good two miles of track a day,” Casement told Sunny. “Been right on schedule since you were here in the spring.” The man walked ahead of them to talk to a foreman, and Sunny shook her head.

“Do you see now why convincing Vince to buy out Don Harrison's steel mill was a smart move?” she asked Stuart. “Most of those rails were made at our own mill, shipped to St. Louis by rail and over to Omaha by steamship. Nearly every rail that gets laid means more money going back to Landers Enterprises, so even
in
directly we make money from the U.P., especially when we can pad the prices twice—first for the steel mill and again when Crédit Mobilier bills the government. Because of me, my profits from shares in Crédit Mobilier go back into Landers Enterprises.”

Stuart laughed lightly, taking her arm as she stepped over horse dung. “You've turned into a hell of a businesswoman, dear sister. I'll never forget the look on Vince's face when you explained it all to the board. There wasn't a damn thing he could say against it. You really showed him up that day.”

Sunny smiled, stopping to watch the workers again. Casement had to shout at some of them to “quit staring at the lady and show her what you're made of!” Sunny shook her head, breathing deeply with satisfaction. “It's a double joy, Stuart. Not only have I proven to Vince this can be done without damaging the company, but here it is, a transcontinental railroad, the very thing people used to laugh at my—I mean,
our
father—over. Now those who failed to get involved are crying in their beer. Somehow, though, the profits and all aren't so important as proving this could be done, and knowing the benefit it's going to be some day to travelers—to the whole nation. There are wonderful new markets in California—their farm produce, wonderful spices and silks from the Orient, lumber. Blaine was smart to get in on the ground floor of the logging potential in California and Oregon.”

“Blaine is a man who always stays one step ahead. You've chosen well, Sunny. Even Vince likes Blaine.”

“In some ways they're two of a kind. And you know Vince. He's just happy I'm marrying someone who doesn't need my money.”

Stuart chuckled. “Yes, I guess that's what he's most happy about. He—” He stopped mid-sentence when he heard three shots fired in quick succession. “What the hell?” He squinted to watch a rider approaching from the northwest. They had walked slightly beyond end of track, and the horizon was open to them. “That man is riding awfully hard. Maybe it's one of Casement's scouts. I wonder if there's some kind of trouble.”

The man began waving a blanket and calling out in shrill war whoops. “My God, he's an Indian,” Sunny said, her eyes widening.

“Miss Landers,” Casement shouted, running up to Sunny and Stuart. “Get back in your car, quickly! That's our scout's signal that trouble is coming! Hurry!”

Sunny lifted her skirts, and the three of them started running back toward Sunny's train. “Your scout is an Indian?” Stuart asked, the words panted.

“Only half—Cherokee. You two get in your car and stay low!” Casement left them and began shouting more orders to the workers, who had instantly dropped their tools and were scrambling into the sleeper cars to grab their rifles. It seemed to Sunny that it was taking forever to run along the first two long trains. By the time they reached their own train, they could already hear more war whoops and some gunfire. She and Stuart scrambled onto the platform, and Sunny stopped to watch the oncoming Indians, a great number of them.

“Sunny, get inside!” Stuart shouted.

“Wait! They aren't that close yet!” She watched the scout, who was riding hard toward camp, his horse's mane and his own long dark hair flying in the wind. On his heels was a swarm of Indians, and she could hardly believe the scout had managed to dodge their bullets and arrows, let alone the fact that some of the railroad men were already shooting back. The poor scout was caught in the crossfire!

Part
Cherokee
, she thought. Could it be? It didn't seem possible, but then she had once told Colt he ought to try working for the railroad when he got back from the war. If it
was
Colt, why hadn't he come to her first? Why didn't she know he was working for her own company?

“Damn it, Sunny, get in here!” Stuart came out and grabbed her arm, forcing her inside, just as one of the men who had been hired to guard her own train jumped up onto the platform, rifle in hand. Stuart closed and locked the door, and Sunny rushed to a window to watch. The scout came closer, but in all the gunfire and melee, it was hard to tell if it might be Colt. His hair was much longer than she had ever seen Colt wear his, and his build was magnificent, not at all the way she imagined he might look, after the way Vi had described him. Of course by now he would be heavier again, but she had always thought of Colt with the more slender build of his younger years. He had been slightly more filled out that night he came to see her in Chicago, but the man she was watching now had more muscular arms and shoulders. Because the day had grown much warmer, he wore no shirt, just leggings and moccasins, a gun belt slung around his shoulder and a rifle in one hand. His riding was superb, as he leaned into his horse to avoid flying bullets. His horse was sure-footed, darting first one way, then another.

He seemed to notice the extra train then. He headed toward it, apparently realizing some important U.P. official must be present and would need extra protection.

“Sunny, get away from the window,” Stuart told her. He was crouched on the floor.

“Not yet. Oh, Stuart, you should watch! It's so exciting! And the scout! Stuart, I think it might be Colt!”

“What!”

“Come and look!” She no sooner said the words than the window ahead of her shattered. Sunny screamed and finally ducked down.

“Damn it, I told you! That could have been right where you were sitting!”

Mae let out a wild scream and came running from her private quarters. “We're going to die!” she sobbed. “The Indians will take us, Miss Landers! You know what they do to white women!”

“Be still, Mae! There are hundreds of men on this work crew, and they all have rifles. There are even soldiers out there. We'll be fine.”

Sunny quickly removed her hat and inched her head up to look out the window again, just in time to see the scout charging up to her car. He jumped from his horse before the animal even came to a halt, and he raised his rifle and began firing. The attacking Indians now seemed to be zeroing in on her train, and her eyes widened as they came closer. One of them was carrying a flaming torch. The scout shot at him, and the Indian's horse stumbled and went down. The Indian tumbled through the prairie grass, setting some of it on fire, then got up and kept coming, apparently determined to set Sunny's railroad car on fire. She saw that the scout was having trouble with a jammed rifle, and in the next instant the attacking Indian threw the flaming torch at one of Sunny's windows. Sunny squinted, waiting for a shatter, but the torch bounced off and fell to the ground.

The scout whirled with his rifle and landed the butt of it against the back of the warrior's skull. By then another warrior was on him. Sunny gasped when the second warrior took a swing at the scout with a tomahawk, just nicking the scout's left shoulder. As the warrior's horse flew by, the scout reached up and grabbed the man's arm, yanking him off the horse and slamming him to the ground. Sunny's eyes widened then when the scout whipped out a huge knife and rammed it into the warrior's chest.

She sank away from the window then, holding her stomach. Mae crawled over to her and the two women held each other, while outside gunfire and war whoops raged on. Bullets shattered all but one of Sunny's windows on one side. She and Stuart and Mae remained huddled against the steel-lined walls of the sturdy rail car.

Sunny still could not be sure if it was Colt she had been watching. Whoever it was, he certainly knew how to fight like the very Indians who had attacked him. She hoped that whoever it was, he would be all right, for he had defended her particular train car valiantly. It seemed like forever before the sound of yipping, whooping Indians began to fade, and the gunfire began to dwindle. Sunny turned to take another look outside, to see several railroad men frantically pounding at a grass fire with shovels. A few bodies lay strewn about, both Indians and railroad men, and she felt a tightness in her chest at the loss. These men were literally risking their lives to build this railroad. She vowed then and there that they would be remembered with honor.

A figure emerged from the private rooms of the car, startling everyone when he stepped into the main quarters. “Is everybody all right in here?”

All three of them looked up, and Mae let out a horrified scream. “They got inside!”

Sunny's eyes widened, and she told Mae to be still as she slowly rose.

“Sunny?” Colt stared at her in surprise.

“My God! Colt, is it you?” Stuart had said the words as he also rose. “Jesus, man, you're bleeding! Sit down and we'll get something for that!”

Mae just stared in amazement that Stuart and apparently Sunny knew this wild-looking Indian who had just invaded their railroad car. Stuart barked at her to get some whiskey and bandages. She ran past Colt as though afraid he might reach out and grab her.

The shock of seeing Colt so unexpectedly left Sunny speechless. His hair was much longer, his build much more manly and powerful, but it was Colt. There were those gentle hazel eyes, and they were looking her over as though she was the most precious thing he had ever seen. His physique seemed to fill the interior of her parlor car. He stood there covered with dust and blood, parts of him glistening with sweat, which only accented the hard muscles of his bare arms and chest.

The two of them could do no more than stare at each other, stunned. Stuart had followed Mae to try to find the right supplies. “What the hell are
you
doing out here?” Colt finally asked.

“I—I come out often.” Why was her heart pounding so? What was it this man always managed to do to her in spite of their long periods of separation? She had not expected to ever see him again, had finally gotten him out of her blood, and now here he was again!

The shock and slight anger in his own eyes began to fade, and a hint of a smile crossed his mouth, “I knew somebody important had to be in this fancy car. I never thought it would be you.” He looked down at his left shoulder and grabbed it with his right hand. “I'd better leave before I get blood and dirt all over your expensive carpeting.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she said, rushing forward. “You sit right down.” She urged him onto a velvet and oak window seat, and for the next few minutes confusion surrounded them. Stuart and Mae returned with bandages, Mae standing back and staring as Sunny and Stuart cleaned the wound and wrapped it, while General Casement came pounding at the door to ask if everyone inside was all right. Stuart let the man in, scolding Mae for leaving the door at the other end of the car unlocked.

“It's a good thing Colt and the others managed to keep those Indians at bay. They could have gotten inside the car, thanks to you.”

“Don't pick on Mae,” Sunny told her brother, wondering if Colt could tell how flustered she was as she wrapped his wound. Did he hear her heart beating, notice the color she knew had come to her cheeks? How many times had he thought about the passionate kiss they had shared, or remembered the feel and taste of her? “This is all new and frightening to her.” She studied Colt's muscular arm as she bandaged it. It felt strangely exciting to realize this beautiful, wild-looking man was the only one who had ever touched her intimately.

Mae sat down and cried quietly while Casement questioned Stuart and Sunny, exclaiming over the fact that they both knew Colt Travis. “Why in God's name didn't you tell me you knew Miss Landers?” he asked Colt.

Colt glanced at Sunny. “I didn't want to get the job because of that,” he answered. “Besides, it's been over four years since I last saw Miss Landers. We're just casual acquaintances.”