black falcon 10 part 4 delivering the females

 

10 Delivering the Females part 4

 

Luke woke up when the locomotive stopped, and there were a number of bumps and clanking noises. He got up, to discover that Ella was already ready.

“My stop,” she said. “I’m awful nervous.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” said Luke.  “Does he know to meet you?”

“Yes; he’s meeting us all at the hotel for breakfast whilst they change the locomotive, to tackle the mountains,” said Ella. “I got dressed first, because I am nervous.”

“Well, why don’t I escort you into the hotel, and the other ladies can follow; here’s Albert, to take your luggage.”

Ella smiled with sudden shyness as she tipped Albert.

“Thank you; you have made this trip easier,” she said.

As it happened, Miss Compton and Florence were barely behind them as they left the train for breakfast; they would have a good hour at this stop, longer than the twenty minutes or so at each of the earlier stops for food, allowed by the railway, and partly accounted for by the time it took to re-fuel and top up the water of the engines, which were what caused the longest delays, every twenty-five miles or so.

The young man who was waiting in the hotel dining room had short, unruly dark hair, and was tanned by sun and wind, but had handsome, even features. He looked over towards the group of women, and rose, nervously.

“Joe?” said Ella.

“Ella?” he asked. “My, but you’re a looker!”

“You’re not so bad looking yourself,” said Ella, shyly.

He held out his arms and she ran to him.

“We’d better get some food or if we wait for them, we’ll miss the train,” said Luke, dryly.  “A happy match, by the look of it.”

Ella and her Joe were still staring at each other as Luke and Miss Compton escorted Florence back onto the train.

 

The journey through the mountains was slower; fuel must be taken on more often, to effect a climb.  The weather worsened, and it seemed as though they were continually butting through a snowstorm. Albert kept them fed and supplied with tea and coffee, to help stay warm; even the underfloor hot air was insufficient to keep warm without huddling in blankets.

“I didn’t know it got this cold,” shuddered Florence.

“It’s the altitude,” said Luke. He had joined the ladies, to stay warmer in numbers. “By the time we go down overnight, it’ll be a lot warmer.”

 

Luke’s prediction proved to be true, and by the time they reached Florence’s destination it was much less inclement. A man with a marshal’s star was awaiting the train, and Luke nodded to him.

“For Miss Florence?” he asked.

“Yes. You are?”

“Deputy-Marshal Luke Sokolov of Eastbend,” said Luke. “I came as a bodyguard; after nearly coming to grief outside our town, the ladies were, understandably, a little nervous. Though we’ve had no more trouble.”

“Oh, are you the young fellow Florrie wrote about who stopped the runaway carriage and saved their lives?”

“I did stop the carriage, yes,” said Luke, flushing.

“I was half afraid I was going to lose her to such a dashing young man, but she wrote that you were scarce more than a boy, which relieved me no end.”

Luke grinned.

“Miss Florence is a level-headed young woman, not likely to have her heart swayed by crazy riding tricks,” he said.  “And I’m too young to settle down, anyway.”

“Well, if you’ll care to come with me, I have a town house to put you up for the night, and the vicar booked to marry us in the morning, if you’d care to stay for the wedding?”

“If we can catch a train back, yes,” said Luke. “Miss Compton is desirous of earning a fee as duenna going the other way, if possible, if there are any young ladies heading East who could use a companion for the journey?”

“I don’t know, offhand, but I’ll ask the vicar, and between us I imagine we would know if there is.”

“And if not, I’ll have a word with your newspaper proprietor in case there are any adverts,” said Luke.

 

It turned out that a Rancher’s daughter named Lucille Bunce, was heading for Denver, to spend Christmas with her mother’s people and get a bit of town bronze; and Luke rode out to see the girl’s father.

“Name’s Luke Sokolov; deputy marshal in Eastbend,” said Luke. “Which means nothing here, but I was asked to bodyguard some ladies coming west to marry.  Their duenna is for hire, and I understand your daughter is travelling.”

“I don’t think she needs a bodyguard,” said Bunce.

“Oh, I’m sure she doesn’t,” said Luke.  “I’m headed back that way for part of the journey, but I agreed to ask if it was suitable from your point of view, and if so, to book the ladies a Pullman compartment on the next train to Denver, and I’ll be going as far as Cheyenne.”

“Papa!” a young girl dressed in dungarees burst into the room. “I don’t need no duenna or bodyguard, and I don’t want no town bronze! What for do I need to learn how to wear a dress?”

Luke raised his hat, and bowed.

“Well, now, Miss Bunce, I have to admit that wearing corsets and skirts is blamed uncomfortable, as I can testify, but it has its uses,” he said.

“You’ve worn a skirt and corsets?” demanded the girl.

“Oh, yes, and as I don’t go in at the waist as naturally as a woman it was a nuisance,” said Luke. “See, I’m deputy sheriff as a favour to my friend, the sheriff, whilst he trains up an underling; but I’m a bounty hunter by trade, and I was chasing a man who was charming women and marrying and killing them. So I made like I was a rich widow; even shaved my moustache off. He was worth twelve hundred dollars, and finding his cache of what he robbed also gave me a nice reward.  Now, I’m not suggesting you should be a bounty hunter; I don’t have to deal with being in an uncomfortable position on what my sisters call ‘courses,’ but I never turn down education in how to act any particular way. And if you learn how to drive those skirts, well, you’ll be able to meet any eventuality and shoot it between the eyes, however you’re dressed, won’t you?”

Lucille regarded him suspiciously.

“Did my daddy put you up to that?” she asked.

“I met him for the first time a couple of minutes before you joined us,” said Luke. “Personally, I think dungarees or divided skirt or trousers are the most practical garb on a farm, but my sisters tell me that being able to swish their skirts at young men helps to keep them in line.”

“Oh,” said Lucille. “I don’t want to go, I’ll have to watch what I say.”

“I’m sure Miss Compton will help you on the way,” said Luke. “She’s a kindly and sensible lady, and she has a sense of humour, though she has to act starchy.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“No, I have to visit one of the ladies I left on the way, and see if I need to kill a man,” said Luke, his eyes bleak.

“Can’t be easy for these mail-order brides,” said Bunce.

“No,” said Luke. “And Miss Compton is too old to be considered so she earns her way as a duenna. She wasn’t looking forward to having to return sat in a seat for four days.”

“Oh, that would be horrid,” said Lucille. “Papa, you must make sure she and I are comfortable if I must go.”

“Your grandparents are keen to see you, Chickabiddy,” said Bunce.

“I suppose I want to see them,” said Lucille.

“Look on it as an adventure,” said Luke.

“I’ll ride into town with you, Sokolov, and get tickets,” said Bunce. “You pack, Lucille, and you make sure and take your dresses.”

Luke grinned to see the girl grimace and roll up her eyes.

It would be a culture shock for her; at least his sisters knew how to be demure in skirts or do a day’s work in the wide Cossack trousers they all wore for working.

He paid his own fare to Cheyenne, and stored his tickets.

They could see the happy couple married before leaving.

 

 

Florence looked radiant, a lovely change from her last minute nerves. She blushed shyly as she made her responses, and Luke found himself wondering if the sheriff had been a little premature with his lady.  It did not matter, if she was happy with it.

And then they must hurry to the railway line to catch the train east.

 

 

Luke left Lucille to Miss Compton, who would be able to give her a good idea of what was expected of her; but he joined them at meals, and after dinner he gave Lucille a game of chequers, to allow Miss Compton a bit of a rest, suggesting that she slip into his cabin to lie down for half an hour. His thoughts were more on Emma and Ida than on Lucille, whom he thought a nice child. He hoped that she would not learn too many prissy ways.

He was surprised to come quietly into his cabin to find Miss Compton hugging his pillow, and sniffing it.  She looked up, surprised, shocked, and, surprising to Luke, lustful.

“I... I am sorry, Mr. Sokolov,” she said, a tear starting in the corner of her eye.

“Miss Compton... Diana...” said Luke. “I am not looking for a relationship. But if you wanted a wild railway affaire, torrid, clandestine, and brief, then I’m not averse.” She was not unattractive, even if she would not see forty again.

Her eyes widened.

“I... I should not...” she faltered.

“Lucille was asleep on her feet from excitement of her first day’s travel, and being permitted wine,” said Luke.  “She’s probably already asleep.”

“I... yes! Yes, please, Luke... I may never have another opportunity for anything that passes as love.”

“Well, then, Diana, goddess of the moon, permit me.”  He kissed her, and she responded with gauche eagerness. Luke had been celibate for long enough that he was not feeling fussy, and being around attractive young women had not been easy. Miss Compton was in good shape, and took care of herself, and was eager enough to make up for any minor deficiencies a young man might normally consider insurmountable. And he eased his conscience in thinking that at least she would have something pleasant to remember, and might have the confidence to catch her own man in one of the older ranchers looking for a stepmother for children and companionship. He managed to take things slowly enough to have Miss Compton thoroughly ready for him, and Luke gently muffled her eager cries with kisses. He did not really want Lucille waking up and looking for her duenna! He had locked the door against such incursions, but it would be unfortunate.

Miss Compton clung to him afterwards.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re very welcome; thank you,” said Luke. “But I think you should go back to your own bed.”

“I... yes,” said Miss Compton.

 

oOoOo

 

“Oh, good, you are feeling better, Miss Compton,” said Lucille, at breakfast. “I heard you groaning in the night, and I wondered if you had eaten something that disagreed with you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to come and see if I could help.”

“There was nothing you could have done, my dear child,” said Miss Compton, flushing. “I do feel very well, this morning, however.” She glanced at Luke.

“You are welcome to come to me if the rich dinners lie heavy,” said Luke, gravely.

 

It was a pleasant affaire, and Luke found it relaxing.  He even felt genial enough to show Lucille the huge windmill at Laramie when they stopped there.

“It looks like a big target with an arrow in the bull,” giggled Lucille.

“The flights of the ‘arrow’ catch the wind and turn the many vanes that make up what you call the target to face the wind,” said Luke. “It rotates around the pumping-house building, and raises water from a deep well, to water the locomotives, so they always have steam.”

“Why does it need replacing?” asked  Lucille. “I don’t understand how it works.”

“Because the water is heated up until it makes steam, and that steam goes in jets to turn the engine, which turns the wheels. But steam is lost; you can see it coming out by the wheels, and there is also a safety-valve to vent steam so it does not build up enough pressure to explode.”

“Why would it explode? It’s only hot water.”

“Little girl, hot water is dangerous,” said Luke. “Have you never seen a kettle boil, when the steam blows leaves or feathers up in the air?  Put through narrow pipes, it has the power to push a steam locomotive by forcing the wheels to turn.  I’ll show you when we get in, using the steam from a tea kettle, which is not nearly as hot or strong as the steam in a train.”

 

Luke had no trouble making a toy windmill with a square of paper, and demonstrated how it turned in the stream of the steam from the tea, before it wilted from the wetness.

“You’ll make a wonderful father, one day,” said Miss Compton.  If her voice was a little wistful, both she and Luke pretended not to regard it.

“He’s too young, Miss Compton,” giggled Lucille. “You’d make a fine mother, though.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that, for me,” said Miss Compton.

“Perhaps one of your charges will have a lonely pa who needs a friend,” said Luke. “If the lass likes you well enough as a mother.”

Lucille looked thoughtfully at Miss Compton.

She could, thought Luke, go further and do worse than Mr. Bunce.

 

oOoOo

 

They must all vacate the train at Cheyenne, as the women must change to another line. Luke left them in the hotel, waiting for their connection, shaking hands with Lucille, and kissing Miss Compton’s hand. She managed to smile at him.

“Fare well,” said Luke, deliberately separating a meaningless word meaning ‘goodbye,’ in order to make it mean what it said. He turned away and walked firmly out of their lives, towards the livery stable, looking forward to being reunited with Blackwind.

The horse was not going to be happy about being left behind, so Luke bought him an apple as a peace offering.  He could hardly explain to the poor beast that it was preferable to spending several days in a moving stable.

He did not expect to see Ida again so soon.  But he had no sooner started for the livery stable than he heard his name called.

“Mr. Sokolov! Mr. Sokolov!” Ida’s young voice rang out. Luke turned, and the coltish figure of a seeming young boy ran up to him. It was Ida. And her face was horribly bruised.