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Kissing Mr. Hart would no doubt be dull and tedious, in spite of the fact that looking into his eyes caused little tingly things all up and down her spine.
Trina shook herself. A well-bred young lady shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts. Why, it was practically indecent to want to kiss a man before they’d at least talked about engagement. And she had no intention of ever being courted by such a man as Gabriel Hart. Why, what would Aunt Francis and Cousin Bertha say? And Aunt Sophie! She’d never be able to live down such a thing, even if she lived to be sixty-eight. Just because Trina never had a mother to tell her how a lady should behave didn’t mean she hadn’t had plenty of instruction from the other women in the family.
Trina sighed. How dull it was to be proper. How tedious. A thought struck her. Of course. That had to be it.
“Mr. Hart, are you married?”
Such grief appeared in Gabriel’s eyes that she gasped, staggered backward a couple of steps and reached for her throat.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hart. I obviously have overstepped the boundary of good taste by asking such a personal question. I sincerely beg your pardon, sir.”
Gabriel stared out the window. He had to get his emotions—his hatred—under control. Any reminder of Hannah brought it back as if it were yesterday. The grief and the hatred burning in him sometimes threatened to blank out his mind entirely. He couldn’t let it run free. Not until he had Blackburn in front of him, pleading for mercy—which he wouldn’t get. But this woman couldn’t know that.
Gabriel closed his eyes. “It’s nothing you’ve done, Miss McCabe.”
“Are you sure? I—”
“My wife died over a year ago.” The words bit into him like a rattlesnake and refused to let go, pumping venom into him, poisoning his very soul. “Your question was a reminder, that’s all. There’s no harm done.”
How could she have been so thoughtless as to blurt a personal question that way? Trina scolded herself soundly, wishing she’d had the good sense to keep her thoughts and curiosity to herself.
“I’m dreadfully sorry.”
“Yes, ma’am. Now, if you’ll pardon me…”
In spite of what he’d just said, she knew she’d let her headstrong tendencies get out of hand again. She owed him another apology.
“Of course, Mr. Hart. I apologize again for my…thoughtless question. I…I’ll speak with you again later…about my father.”
Gabriel nodded but didn’t look at her. He had to push the venom away so he could be in control again.
Hesitating in the corridor, Trina berated herself for hurting him so terribly. He must have loved his wife dearly for her death to still be such a dagger in his heart. She wondered how Mrs. Hart had died, but knew she could never ask. It wasn’t any of her business, anyway. He’d said it was over a year ago. By now he should have accepted her death and decided to get on with his life, shouldn’t he?
Trina slapped her cheeks, punishing herself for being so nosy. Shame on her! What must she be thinking to want to pry into this man’s life and affairs? She had to forget the incident and hope he would do the same. If she never mentioned it again, perhaps he’d forgive her impertinence.
She knew she should go straight to her compartment, lock the door and stay there until the train arrived in Silver Falls tomorrow. But something niggled at her like a bird trying to pluck a stubborn worm from a hole in a tree trunk. She had to see for herself why her father had lied. Seeing his bodyguard push that man off the train while her father watched had almost made her heart stop beating. He’d supposedly killed that second man because he was threatening to kill her father—and that couldn’t have been true, since the man had not been carrying a gun. None of it made any sense.
Trina eased out the back door of the Pullman, shivered over to the baggage car and went inside, then stopped for a minute to let her eyes adjust to the darkness.
The car was piled haphazardly with boxes, traveling bags and trunks of all sizes and descriptions. There seemed to be no pattern to the jumble at all. Luckily, each parcel dangled a label with the owner’s name and destination. On the left was a platform. Anything previously there had been moved to make room for the unexpected baggage now occupying the space.
There he lay. Deader than a doornail. Trina shivered, but not from the cold. If she were to inspect the body, looking for a gun, she’d have to touch—
The door slammed back with a loud thud. “Are you lost, Miss McCabe?”
Trina jumped about a mile and let out a yelp.
The conductor latched the door and shook his head at her. “This is the baggage car, ma’am. I don’t believe whatever you’re lookin’ for will be in here, unless you mean to get into one of those trunks you brought on board.”
“Trunks? I didn’t bring any trunks. You must have me confused—”
“Two of ‘em. Heavy. I figured they was chock-full of your fancy clothes and doodads. Your father saw to the loading hisself.”
“My father? Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am. Now, if you’ll tell me what you’re lookin’ for, maybe I can help you find it.”
“Nothing. I’m…lost…just as you said. I guess I got turned around and went out the back door instead of the front. I’ll go back to my quarters now. Thank you kindly.”
The conductor shook his head again and watched her go, muttering under his breath about foolish females.
Trina went straight to Gabriel’s door and knocked lightly.
Gabriel came, hesitated when he saw it was her, then opened the door. “Miss McCabe—”
“Shh! I have to talk to you. It’s important.” She pushed past him.
There didn’t seem to be any escaping this woman. He closed the door and waited.
“Mr. Hart, I have just learned something extraordinary.”
“I see.” Gabriel was back on an even keel. He didn’t want to lose the edge again, but if anyone could make him do it, it was Trina McCabe. “Who?”
Trina stopped. “I beg your pardon?”
Was she slow or stupid or something? “Who told you whatever it is you’re so all-fired excited about?”
“No one. The conductor. You did!”
Gabriel didn’t like the sound of this. “Miss McCabe…”
“Let me start again. May I sit down?”
Gabriel threw up his hands. “Sure! Why not? Mi casa es su casa.”
Trina stopped halfway down and stood again. “What was that? Spanish?”
“Never mind. Just get it said.”
“Back in the baggage car just now—”
“What were you doing back there?”
“Looking at the dead body.”
“You enjoy looking at dead bodies, do you?”
“Of course not. I just wanted to see if he had a gun.”
“I told you he didn’t.”
“I wanted to see for myself.”
“Humph.” Gabriel didn’t cotton to being doubted.
“Anyway, the conductor startled me. He thought I was looking for one of the trunks I brought on board the train.”
“How long are you plannin’ to be in Silver Falls, Miss McCabe?”
“Two days. Why?”
“Just wonderin’ why you’d bring trunks for such a short stay.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“Bring any trunks.”
“Wait a minute. You just said—”
“The conductor thought they were my trunks, but they weren’t.”
Gabriel sighed. She was determined to make him pull the story out of her word by word. “Whose were they?”
“My father’s.”
Gabriel’s head started to hurt. “Is there a point to any of this?”
“I was getting to the point when you interrupted.”
“Pardon me, ma’am, for interrupting.”
“You’re pardoned.”
“Can we get on with this little recital?” He rubbed his forehead tiredly.
“Certainly.” If he wanted her to hurry, why was he asking so many questions? It must be the nature of an ex-sheriff. “It seems that my father brought two heavy trunks on board the train in Denver. I wasn’t aware of it until now.”
“So?”
“So I don’t know what’s in those trunks. What could it be? My father’s bodyguard pushed a man off the train, then killed a man who was trying to shoot my father, only the man had no gun, and…and…Mr. Hart, I’m so confused, I don’t know what to think next!”
“You and me both, ma’am.” He’d been right about her seeing something earlier. But it brought him no satisfaction to have figured it out. Gabriel just wanted to be alone. Trina was giving him the granddaddy of all headaches and he needed a drink and some shut-eye to get rid of it. “I’ll think about it for a while and let you know later what I decide, all right? You really must go to your quarters now. I think part of your confusion is due to lack of rest.”
Trina could see the pain in his eyes when he reached to massage his temples. She stifled the impulse to massage them for him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hart. I’ve caused you more distress than I have a right to. I won’t bother you again, I promise.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He opened the door for her and smiled thinly when she walked past him. He waited until she entered her compartment and clicked the lock into place before he closed his door and lay down on the bed.
Distractions. He had to rid himself of distractions and get back to the task at hand, which was to find Blackburn and kill him. Nothing else could hold any importance for him.
In his mind he saw Trina’s face, shining with excitement Her lower lip, stuck out in a pout. The dismay and regret he’d seen in her eyes when she’d asked if he was married. He’d never seen a woman with as many different faces as she had.
Damnedest woman he’d ever met.
Hannah had been as predictable as night and day. Not Trina McCabe. Guessing which face she’d show him next was like trying to guess when it would rain in Texas. Or when it would quit.
He rubbed his temples and tried to blank his mind of anything except his primary thought—kill Blackburn.
He’d forgotten to have that drink.
Gabriel got up, grabbed his coat and headed for the dining car. The scent of lilac perfume lingered on the collar of his coat where it had touched her face and neck. A hollow feeling opened up in the pit of his stomach.
Damn woman.
He stalked off down the hall.
Trina watched him go, then left her compartment Tiptoeing, looking back over her shoulder at every noise, every bump of the train, she headed for the baggage car.
Chapter Four (#ulink_eea30e66-14c1-58ef-a288-9486f5484dec)
Inside the dank baggage car, Trina took a long, slow, deep breath and tried to stop shivering. The dead man lay there, as cold as the mountain outside. He was already starting to stiffen. His arms stuck out like those on a porcelain doll, and one boot cleared the shelf an inch. She shivered again, less with the cold than with revulsion.
It was stupid for her to be here, but she had to know the contents of those trunks her father had brought on board, and she had to get to them before those men did. With all her heart she hoped it would be something she’d laugh and scold herself about later.
She picked her way among the baggage carefully, having difficulty standing erect with the swaying and lurching of the cumbersome car as it climbed the mountain. Boxes tied with string…leather bags…canvas bags…trunks with other names on them…There they were. The tags tied to the locks had McCabe written on them. She tried to open the nearest trunk.
Locked. She’d suspected they would be, otherwise those two men would have stolen whatever was in them. How was she going to get into one of them?
The answer was obvious. She’d have to have the key. She knew, as surely as she knew Gabriel Hart was the most attractive and maddening man she’d ever met, that dear old Papa would have the key in his pocket.
The only other alternative would be to break one of the locks, but then her father would know someone had gotten into the trunk, and she certainly didn’t want that.
With her lip stuck out, she went back to the Pullman…and met Gabriel Hart just inside the door.
“You must be really curious about dead men, Miss McCabe, to spend so much time back there inspecting the body.”
Trina bristled. “I did not go back there to ‘inspect the body,’ Mr. Hart.” Caught. In spite of all her sneakiness. Her heart fluttered like a little bird.
“Well, then, why were you in that car?”
It wasn’t any of his business what she did. Then again, he might know a way to get into those trunks without leaving any trace of the entry.
“If you must know, I was inspecting the trunks my father brought on board.”
“I see. Did you satisfy your curiosity?”
“No. They’re locked and I have no way to unlock them.” She stuck out her lip again.
