A clatter and clang had her jolting, and then the great clunking and banging of the wheels making a sharp turn had her snapping her head up. Clay held in a flinch at her paleness. No one was that good an actress, and his heart thudded in response. She was a beauty, no man could deny that—even with a tint of seasick-green covering her cheeks.
As if not sure what they saw, the big brown eyes staring at him closed for a moment and then opened again.
“Miss Ackerman,” he said in greeting.
Her groan was accompanied with a slow and distraught headshake as she pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’d forgotten,” she whispered.
Plenty of people grew sick riding the train up the mountain. The motion and altitude took some getting used to. Her head once again lowered to hang over her knees. Clay leaned across the small space, drawing back a hand moments before it could touch her knee. “Forgotten what?”
“How treacherous these train rides are.”
Coupling the fear of heights he’d sensed back on the trail with the train ride, he felt compassion opening up inside him. With little thought, he moved across the aisle and sat down next to her. Resting a hand in the middle of her back, he assured her, “You’re safe.”
She shook her head. “If one of these cars came loose we’d plunge to the bottom of the mountain and never be found.”
Clay glanced over his shoulder, out the window to where the houses, commercial buildings, even people moving about in Black Hawk looked like a miniature world. Others had made the same statement she just had, and he’d laughed it off, but the shakiness of her voice indicated real fear. Protectiveness sprang up inside him. “That won’t happen,” he answered. “You have my word on it.”
“How could you stop it?”
She had yet to lift her head, and beneath his fingers her body trembled. There was something about this woman that got to him, and not just her unease right now. From the moment they’d met he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, almost as if she’d had the key and opened that deeply guarded compartment inside him he’d long ago secured away.
Exposing the things long hidden there was not something he was prepared to do, so he blocked the thought from his mind and dug in one pocket. “I have something for you,” he said.
“I know. A ticket to Boston.”
Her groan made him chuckle. “No, Mr. Green still has that.”
Opening one eye, she cast a wary gaze toward Clay, head still down, face still white.
He dangled the medicine bag by the leather strap.
A faint, wobbly smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Inching upward, she trapped his hand on her back between her and the wall. “My amulet,” she whispered. “How’d you—”
“It’s not the same one you lost. But it’s similar.” He leaned closer and whispered, “This one doesn’t stink.”
As she let out an adorable half gasp, half giggle, he eased the leather strap over her head, careful of the little hat and the pins holding her thick curls in place. “There, now you’re safe. I apologize for making you lose the other one.”
A hint of color appeared on her cheeks as she fingered the bag gently. “Thank you.”
The train rounded the hill, and the sound of the whistle announcing the upcoming depot prevented him from responding. Which was all right, since he had no idea what to say. The sincerity in her voice had sucker punched his heart.
Biting her bottom lip, she closed her eyes again as the train slowed to a crawl near the big drum of water towering over the tracks, marking Central City.
He didn’t have a moment to speak then, either, because the door in the center of the roof opened and brown boots caught the first rung of the ladder.
Beneath Clay’s fingers, Katherine’s trembling increased, and he rubbed her back in a wide circle.
“What—” Looking dumbfounded, Ty Reins, dressed in his gray-and-white-striped bib overalls and matching hat, glanced around the small area. “Clay, I didn’t know you were riding in here.”
“It’s not as crowded as the passenger car,” he answered.
The way Katherine’s eyes snapped open, and the shock on her face, said she knew he’d just covered up the fact she’d sneaked on board, and the bashful fall of her lashes had his blood moving a bit faster.
Clay, about to introduce the two, bit his tongue as she asked the man, “What do you do up there?”
“Keep a lookout for falling rocks and other things that could derail the train,” Ty responded.
Clay groaned inwardly. It was what the man did, but the way Ty had said it was sure to increase her fears. “Which rarely happens,” Clay said, rubbing her back again. The touch of velvet beneath his fingers, not to mention the heat of her body, was rather addictive.
Ty chuckled. “That’s right. It rarely happens. Nothing to worry about, miss.”
She nodded, but Clay sensed it was out of obligation, not belief.
“We’ll only be here a few minutes,” he assured her.
The conductor pointed toward the little overhead door. “You want to ride in the pilothouse? You can see forever up there.”
Clay wanted to shake the man.
“No. No, thank you,” Katherine said nervously. “The caboose is just fine.” She tugged at the high, ruffled neckline of her white silk blouse. “D-down here. Down here is just fine.”
“All right,” Ty said, shrugging his massive shoulders and giving Clay a nod that said he’d tried. “We’ll be heading out in another minute or two. Just had to drop off the mail here in Central.”
“Thanks, Ty,” Clay said, nodding toward the pilothouse door.
Right on cue the screeching whistle blew, and the man swung around to grasp the ladder again.
“How long will it take us to get to Nevadaville?” Katherine asked in a shaky whisper.
“It’s only a couple of miles,” Clay answered, as an overwhelming urge to grasp her waist and pull her closer to his side had his fingers moving over the blue velvet of her dress again.
“Course, we gotta go all the way around before we stop,” Ty added, with one foot on the bottom rung of the ladder.
“Around?” she asked.
“Yeah. Nevadaville is the end of the line. The track makes a loop at the top of the mountain so we’re headed back in the right direction.”
“Thanks, Ty,” Clay repeated, slipping his hand down to the small of her back as her shivers returned. He nodded toward the trapdoor again, half wondering how the conductor couldn’t sense how deeply afraid she was.
Smiling brightly, the man said, “Some folks get scared on account of all the bridges. They’re loud but they’re safe. Built real solid. Ask Clay, there. He’ll tell you.”
“Bridges?” Her voice was a mere squeak.
“Yeah,” Ty answered. “We gotta cross Clear Creek a few times and—”
“It’s time you got back in the pilothouse, Ty,” Clay said sternly.
With a dip of his hat, the man climbed the ladder and closed the door.
Clay scooted a bit closer, inching his arm all the way around her until his palm cupped the swell of her hip. “There isn’t anything to worry ab out.”
The whistle sounded once more, and with a bout of hissing steam floating past the windows, the train, clanging and banging, pulled away from the station.