Black Falcon 10 part 5 delivering the females cliffie bonus

 

10 Delivering the Females part 5

 

 

“Did that bastard Nathaniel do this?” demanded Luke.

“Yes, he did, and he told Emma that he’d whip her with his belt if she stopped him whipping me, and he made me strip to my drawers to be whipped,” said Ida, throwing herself into his arms, and sobbing.

“The hell he did! I’ll see you put up in the hotel, and I’ll go and collect your sister and kill the bastard,” growled Luke.

“Oh, Mr. Sokolov, please do not, it will get you into trouble,” said Ida. “He is in good standing in the community, respected as a good and Godly man.  And they will lynch you.”

“They’d have to catch me first,” growled Luke. “You got away all right, though.”

“But not the way you suggested, oh, Mr. Sokolov, we are neither of us allowed to go into town, wasting time on frivolity!  I changed in the barn, and wrote to my sister, and made as if I was coming onto the property and asked if I could give a letter to a Mrs. Emma Pepper; and he took it and read it, and I said it was give to me by a girl who was getting onto the train, and he said ‘Good riddance!’ and then threatened me as a boy to get off his property or he’d have the dogs on me. That was when he hit my face because I was so shocked he read a letter marked ‘Private.’”

“Unfortunately, there are many men who consider it perfectly acceptable to read the mail of other members of their household,” said Luke. “I consider it rude, myself. He seems a very controlling fellow.”

“He is; take me with you wherever you’re going,” begged Ida.

“Don’t you want me to rescue your sister?”

Ida scowled.

“She keeps saying, ‘Don’t annoy Nathaniel!’ and I don’t always know what it is I’ve done that annoys him. I don’t even know what he wanted to beat me for, I was trying, truly I was.”

“Huh,” said Luke. “Well, if you don’t know what you did wrong, strikes me that punishment isn’t going to cure what he takes as a fault. He’s a nasty piece of work. And it was Emma’s choice to marry him; I offered to look for a way to get her out of it. It’s up to her to protect you, and she has failed. May I enquire what you said in the letter?”

“I said, ‘Dear Emma, I have never been so humiliated as by Nathaniel, and he hasn’t even told me why he beat me, and you didn’t explain either. I refuse to stay where I can be beaten savagely on the whim of a strange and insane man who doesn’t seem to have any reason for hurting me other than that he enjoys it.  You might like it but I don’t. Ida.’”

“Not likely to make him any more douce when reading your forthright opinion,” murmured Luke. “I wonder if you’re right?  Oh, well, I’ll drop a few rumours that his sister-in-law fled because he’s a child-spoiler. That ought to tarnish his reputation.”

“Can’t we just leave?”

“If you really want to. I’d like to wait until tomorrow if that was all the same to you?”

“Oh! I don’t mind that, you’re with me and you will protect me. But, Mr. Sokolov?”

“Yes?”

“If you are going to take me to your family, do you think I could learn to use a whip the way they say you did?”

“Oho, my child, I see what you are thinking.  Yes, I am sure you will learn if you work hard enough,” said Luke. “And I’ll take you back to rescue your sister.”

“Thank you,” said Ida. “I’d like to see how much he likes whipping if he’s on the receiving end.”

“People don’t think of a whip as a weapon,” said Luke. “With a weight on the end, it can be a deadly one.  And you can carry a plaited belt quite openly, with a pomander or something on it, and not seem to be carrying a weapon at all, and if decorative enough, it would be a fashion statement on a gown.”

“I like the sound of that,” said Ida, fiercely.

“Good,” said Luke. “We’ll get you a horse in Denver; the choice will be better than in Burlington, where we get off the train, and we have to stop in Denver in any case to change from the Union Pacific to the Burlington and Colorado line. Then we have a forty mile ride.”

“I am sure I don’t melt in bad weather,” said Ida.

“You’re a little trooper,” said Luke. “But we’ll spend this day round outfitting you with better cold-weather clothing. You already look cold.  And you only got essentials for escaping in.”

“I can’t cost you more money,” Ida protested.

“Yes, you can. I’m well-off, and I’d hope someone in my position who was helping one of my sisters would do as much,” said Luke. “And yes, I know that a man buying clothes for a woman holds certain expectations of his intentions, but my intent, for now, at least, is to treat you like Kalina.”

“Yes, sir,” said Ida.

Soon she was outfitted with a long duster, several more pairs of socks, fur-lined boots, fur-lined gloves, soft enough to drive or ride in without feeling clumsy, woollen shirts, and a denim jumper to wear over as another layer. A thick and long muffler wrapped over her chest under her duster, and she was warm for the first time since she had run away.

 

Ida was awed into silence to eat in a restaurant of somewhat better class than she had been used to, and wearing a respectable suit. She kept looking sideways at Luke, not being used to him in the clothes more expected of an eastern gentleman than a westerner, unless he be a banker or similar. Somehow the look worked.

“What are you staring at?” asked Luke.

“I was wondering how your suit doesn’t make you look tame and respectable, but that you make the suit look untamed and dangerous,” said Ida, frankly, and then blushed.

Luke laughed.

“Probably because I am untamed and dangerous,” he said. “But they can’t complain; it’s black tie, and such is what we are wearing.  Though I have fulfilled a bet once, when I walked into a restaurant demanding black tie and specifying this meant white shirt and black jacket, as some of the local lads had demanded to be served wearing black ties with plaid shirts.  And I was wearing a white shirt and black jacket with my black tie, with my drawers.”

Ida gave a gurgle of mirth.

“What happened?” she asked.

“They tried to throw me out. Nice little brawl,” said Luke. “I threatened to sue for damages and they threatened to tell my father. I was about your age,” he added. “We retired with honours even, and they specified black suit with appropriate footwear thenceforth.”  He laughed. “If only they had known that they had fallen foul of my father during the Civil War; there was an officer trying to get food for his boys, and my father marched into the restaurant, with his arapnik – that’s our whip – and said ‘Feed them, and don’t you dare charge, they’re what’s been standing between you and being overrun by rebels.’ He had to break a few mirrors and cause some other damage, but they got the idea.”

“Did they get so far north and east?” asked Ida.

“No; but they might have done without the northern troops,” said Luke. “The southern argument attracted Papa at first until Mama pointed out that they kept slaves. Then he figured that the freedom to run your own life didn’t extend into the right to interfere in the lives of others.”

Having banished Ida to bed, Luke slipped out to visit a number of saloons. Here he made unkind comments about the sort of men who need mail-order brides, especially those who get a bride with a very young sister because their tastes ran to child-spoiling. He left that to sink in without going any further, and went to bed in the hotel pleased with how the rumours were growing.

Somebody would recall that Nathaniel Pepper had a mail-order bride; and he would have taken her and Ida to his church.  And when Ida was not there, a man like Pepper could almost be guaranteed to say that the ungrateful brat ran off just because she couldn’t take discipline.  And he would almost start the rumours for himself.

Luke was whistling softly when he went to bed. He looked in on Ida, and almost retreated, seeing her lying naked, face down on top of the bed; but the vicious looking welts on her back had him reaching for the salves he always carried to smear on the broken, puffy skin on her back and buttocks. Ida gave a sleeping hum of relief, and Luke set a chair each side of the bed on which to drape the weight of the blankets, but still able to tuck round her neck, so she would not get too cold.

Then he went to bed. She was a stoic girl, and he wished he could make Nathaniel Pepper eat his own belt.

 

The train to Denver would take many hours, being a hundred miles from Cheyenne, so Luke took a sleeper cabin, and paid extra for a steward to be with Blackwind and see to his needs.

“Won’t we be there later tonight?” asked Ida.

“Yes, but you don’t want to sit on those welts all the way; it could fester and make you incapable of riding later,” said Luke.

She blushed.

“I didn’t dream that you did something to make it easier, then,” she said. “And I certainly didn’t think of what you did with the blankets.”

“It was as vicious a beating as I’ve ever seen,” said Luke. “Not that I’ve seen many. I’ll renew the salves later, and again before we get off.”

“Yes, sir,” said Ida, meekly. “You know a lot about salves?”

“My mother was one of the first trained nurses in the world,” said Luke, proudly. “And she taught herself how to be a surgeon as well. Many of the men who came with my parents were alive because of her. And she taught all of us how to treat wounds, working on the principle that we were likely to get hurt, or meet people who were.  I’d rather have my mother treat me than any doctor with a degree.”

“She sounds wonderful; I hope she will teach me,” said Ida.

“Oh, hell, yes,” said Luke. “You’re an open-minded girl who is ready to learn anything anytime. I wager you have a fair idea how a steam engine works, and why a windmill has a vane out behind.”

“Well, obviously – in broad if not in detail,” said Ida.  “It’s steam pressure and it drives the rods which are set off centre of the wheels to convert it to circular motion.  And the vane is to turn a windmill into the wind.”

Luke gave a happy sigh.

“Miss Compton was escorting a girl to Denver to relatives, and she seemed to find the simple principle that steam can move things difficult,” he said. “Nice girl, but tedious. That’s why I wanted to wait a day over; I didn’t want her peppering you with banal questions. Or  me,” he added frankly. “Though it was my fault; I thought she’d like to see the great windmill at Laramie.”

“You can show it to me another day and I’ll make intelligent comments,” said Ida.

“You probably would, too,” said Luke. “Someday, you’re going to make someone a most excellent wife.”

“I’m not thinking that far ahead.”

“No; enjoy your childhood whilst you can,” said Luke.

 

Blackwind bit Luke as he was released from the caboose, and Luke bit him right back. Then he kissed the horse on his muzzle.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

Blackwind Hrrmmphed, and blew spittle on Luke, who laughed.

“He’s such a character,” said Ida.

Their train would leave in the morning, so Luke took Ida to dinner in town. On the way they passed a notice.

“Half-bred Arabian to go to any man who can stay on his back more than fifteen minutes; in the event of more than one successful rider, the one who can stay on longest wins. Entry $5, spectators, 25c.”

“Oh, Mr. Sokolov! Are you going to try?” asked Ida.

“I... well, Arabian stock is worth a lot of money,” said Luke. “But if I win, we’d have to ride a hundred miles home, I can’t take an unbroken horse on the train.”

“Oh, I am sure you will make sure we get there safely,” said Ida.

Luke laughed.

“You have a lot of faith in me,” he said.

“How could I not? You’re owned by a wise horse like Blackwind,” said Ida.

“Oh, very good,” said Luke.

 

oOoOo

 

Asking around, early in the morning, led Luke to discover that the owner of the bronc had bought the half-blood Arabian cheap, and had been unable to ride or break it. The competition rules were that competitors were welcome to try to put any tack they wanted on the horse, and if they were bitten or trampled, it was their own lookout.

“A real free spirit!” said Luke, happily. He bought a spectator’s ticket for Ida, and a right to compete for himself.  He was to go third, which meant that the horse was likely to be really annoyed by then, and not yet tired out.

Oh, well, that was the way of it.

 

 

The first contestant arrived with bridle and saddle. The beautiful palomino half-blood pawed the ground.

“He won’t even make it onto that beauty’s back,” opined Luke.

“Hey, tinhorn, I resent that,” said another.

“Resent it all you like, that’s my opinion,” said Luke. “I am not a tinhorn, however, so kindly refrain from insult.”

“’F I say you’re a tinhorn, y’r a tinhorn,” said the other.

Luke smiled, pleasantly. “Well, if it’s a case of personal opinion, I say your brains are made of prairie pancakes, but we can settle that when the riding is over. In the meantime, five dollars says that fellow doesn’t even get a proper seat on that horse.”

“Done! I’ll take your money when ma brother rides that durned ornery critter!”

Luke did not think he would lose his money; he gave five notes to the ranny to hold, the top cowboy of the owner’s spread, who seemed to be running the whole affair, and the other man grudgingly gave his. His brother was chasing the half wild colt with the bridle, and gave up on that, slinging the saddle onto the horse’s back.  This resulted in such bucking that the saddle came off unfastened. In the end the man came running out of the arena, his precious saddle in his arms, and with contusions visible on his face, and what looked like a broken arm.

“That horse can’t be ridden; it’s a fraud,” he swore, adding a few more words Luke hoped that Ida would not know.

“You knew the conditions,” said the ranny, handing Luke his winnings. “Next?”

Next was a rangy man with a Texan accent, who went into the ring with a lariat. He roped the horse’s head, and let it buck as he worked towards the creature. With a wild Texan yell, he vaulted onto the back of the palomino, hanging on to the rope around its neck.

“YEEEhaw!” he cried, and Luke frowned to see the spurs rowelling the flank of the beast.

This was the point at which the Texan came off, and had to roll out of the way to avoid being trampled.

The ranny signalled to two hands to manoeuvre the horse against the rail and cut the Texan’s lariat, to make it fair.

Then it was Luke’s turn.

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

black falcon 10 part 3 delivering the females

 sorry to be tardy, my sleeping is a bit all over the place

10 Delivering the Females part 3

 

Luke reflected, with some grim humour, that many drifters like himself would have taken the job as bodyguard to mail order brides for the pay, which was not high, but was probably fairly safe. He was spending more to keep them safe than they were paying him, especially since he intended to hire two cabins in a Pullman car for the four day journey west. On reflection, Luke decided to board Blackwind at a livery stable in Cheyenne, rather than take the poor beast on a long, unnecessary journey, mewed up in the caboose. 

“You haven’t checked your guns, sir,” said the hotelier of the Union Pacific Depot and Hotel, when Luke approached the desk.

“Here’s my exception,” said Luke. Sam Stubbins had registered him as a bodyguard, countersigned by Miss Compton. “I showed all my documentation to the Rail Marshal on the way in.”

“Very good, sir,” said the hotelier. “A room?”

“Two rooms, one to accommodate three women,” said Luke. “I’ll take your two dollar room with breakfast for myself.”

“A double room and a single....”

“A room for three; you can surely set up a trundle bed of some kind for the ladies’ duenna?” said Luke.

“I... I suppose so,” said the hotelier.

“Good, make it adjacent to mine. I’ll pay you three dollars, same as for a double and a single, with breakfast. And you’ll have the single to hire out.”

“We could take the seventy-five cent rooms,” ventured Miss Compton. “And find somewhere doing cheap breakfasts...”

“You could, but you won’t, because I need to be near you and I’ll be damned if I sleep in a seventy-five cent room,” said Luke.

“Three dollars fifty,” said the hotelier, rapidly.

“Done,” said Luke. “I have been, but I’m not about to quibble too much.”

The cheap rooms were at the back, overlooking the shunting yard, and were noisy. There were several tracks laid on the cleared dirt grade, and Luke also made sure to work out which one would carry the train they would need.

Luke was thankful that the Union Pacific had signed a contract with Pullman that very year. The sleeping accommodation he had seen before was basic, each cabin had three bunk beds, provided with mattresses but not always other bed linen. There was a wash-basin, and a wood-fired stove for warmth, but the difference in comfort in being able to sleep lying flat was well worth it. He was glad that there would be separate sleeping carriages and a restaurant car, rather than a hotel carriage, which was a closed carriage in which those whose beds opened up above the seating would also be accommodated to dine; the separation of sleeping and dining gave more privacy.

Luke made a foray to the booking office.

“There are three ladies booked by telegraph, I believe,” he said. “I want to upgrade them to Pullman sleeping accommodation, and hire another whole cabin for the four days to the furthest stop.

“That’s an extra two dollars per bunk per day on top,” said the clerk. “One lady for one day, another two dollars, two ladies for four days, sixteen dollars. And sixteen dollars for yourself plus the sixteen dollars train fare.”

Luke frowned.

“Shouldn’t a three-berth cabin be more?” he asked.

“Our cabins are two-berth,” said the clerk.

“Then one lady need not top up because they will want to stay together,” said Luke.

“Suit yourself,” shrugged the clerk. “A total of forty-two dollars.”

Luke extracted four ten-dollar bills and two single bills. It was worth it to make sure they were safe at night, and that he was well rested; and if there were no sheets, they had their bedrolls. He planned to eat in the Pullman restaurant car at a dollar a meal, plus whatever drink he bespoke; if the women wanted to dash out to eating houses for a nickel meal of indifferent stew with bread rather than eat in comfort, that was up to them. In their shoes, he would have bought one full restaurant meal between three, smuggling out the greater part of it to the sleeping cabin for the other two, but it was up to them to work that one out. They were only destitute from the point of view of the middle classes, not by the lights of those to whom two dollars represented a day’s wage.

 

The ladies huddled together to dine, but were glad to be sharing a room.  Luke slept well and deeply and was up early to chivy them to breakfast, ready to catch their train at 8-30.

It was a long train, and Luke noted the number of their Pullman car to hustle the ladies aboard. An easterner was complaining about how his trunk was handled.

“That trunk cost more than you earn in a month,” he brayed, nasally at the black porter.

That was believable; it was a leather-covered thing of beauty.

“Big enough to store a body in it,” said Luke, cheerfully. The braying Easterner looked at him reproachfully.

“That, sirrah, is not funny,” he said.

“It is from where I’m standing,” said Luke. “And nice claret-coloured leather so it doesn’t show if it leaks.”

The Easterner, a tall and gangling fellow, went puce.

“You have a damned nasty sense of humour,” he said.

“Why, yes; but I have my faults as well,” said Luke.

“Mr. Sokolov, please don’t play with your prey,” said Miss Compton.

Luke bowed to her, flashing her his most engaging smile. She did have a sense of humour in there.

“Pray, ladies, allow me,” he said, handing each of them up, and slipping some coins to the white-coated porter who helped with their meagre luggage.

“I’m your steward, sah,” said the man, a grizzled negro in his fifties.

“Well, that’s splendid,” said Luke. “What do we call you?”

“Mos’ folks call us porters ‘George’ after Mr. Pullman. But mah name’s Albert,” said the porter.

“An excellent name; one my brother has as a middle name,” said Luke. “Albert! I have three ladies in one two-person apartment, what can be done about it? It’s only for one night.”

“Well, sah, the lounge converts to a bedroom, one sofa and a fold-down bed, but I can find another chair and footstool to go with those in there. It’ll be a little cramped, but... why, thank you, sah!” Luke slipped him three dollars.  A grateful porter was worth his weight in gold. And Luke was willing to pay more than the railroad charged for sleeping, in order to keep the ladies together and purchase good will.

“You can use the furniture from my cabin next door,” suggested Luke. Albert grinned a very white grin at this, which would make his life easier than hoping one compartment was unoccupied.

The Pullman carriage had a corridor along it, and was divided into several compartments, each with their own toilet, with walnut wood fittings, red velvet, and gilded baroque decoration. There was a deep pile carpet on the floor, and the toilet was decorated with marble.

“Heating?” Luke asked Albert.

“Underfloor hot air, sah,” said Albert.

“Admirable,” said Luke.  “How nice to have the joins between carriages covered!” he indicated the concertina joins between carriages.

“Yes, sah, Mr. Pullman invented the vestibule carriage as well,” said Albert.

“A clever man,” said Luke.

“Yes, sah; and he hires us and the carriages out, rather than sell them,” said Albert.

“Oh, a man of sagacity,” said Luke.

 

“This is such an adventure,” said Florence, when Luke came to visit the ladies in their parlour. “But how are we going to sleep, all of us?”

“Albert has it in hand,” said Luke. “Now enjoy fancy trimmings and feeling like royalty.” He left them to decide which would sleep on a makeshift bed, and settled out to prowl the corridor and find out where the dining carriage was.

 

 

The dining carriage was right in front of their own sleeper; and breakfast was being served. Luke decided that a second breakfast would not come amiss, and settled down to order a meal. The hotel breakfast had consisted of waffles, toast and jelly, and Luke was still hungry.  He was delighted to have a proper breakfast of eggs, bacon, fried potato cubes, mushrooms and baked beans followed by pancakes dripping with maple syrup, and as much toast with jelly as he wished, with hot coffee in a pot, and a small creamer and sugar bowl to add as much or as little as he wished.

Luke had barely finished growing, and he wished for both.

 

He returned to find the ladies chatting, sewing, and looking out of the window, all in turns.

“There’s a dining car if anyone wishes to partake,” he said. “It’s a dollar a meal.”

“I think,” said Florence, “I should like to try it at least once, to be able to boast about it if need be.”

“Yes, you only live once,” said Ella.

“Well...” said Miss Compton.

“I’ll stand you a meal, Miss Compton,” said Luke. “I suspect if you tip Albert, he’ll manage to make sandwiches from leftovers for other meals, rather than have to charge off the train and come back with cheeks stuffed like squirrels to be back on time.”

Miss Compton shuddered.

“And such rough company in such places too,” she said, wistfully.

“We’ll find a young lady going East to school for you to hire on as chaperone to, and have her parents pay for Pullman accommodation on the way back,” said Luke, cheerfully.

Miss Compton brightened.

“Do you think we can?” she asked.

“I’m sure I can find you a client,” said Luke, confidently.

 

Albert was delighted to put together a picnic basket for lunch; the leftovers were the perquisites of the porters, and what they dined on and what they sold was up to them.  Luke joined the ladies in paying a nickel each for what Albert had put together.

 

The scenery continued endless prairie; but the sun was setting ahead of the train filling the window as they veered at times with glorious colours of a prairie early winter sunset. Luke enjoyed the view.

“Dinner time, ladies,” he said, as Albert came in to alert them, with a menu to peruse. “Thank you, Albert. I’ll have the celery consomme, rather than the chicken on rice, the whitefish with Saratoga potatoes looks nice, and the chicken croquette aperitif with mushrooms, I prefer the roast beef to the roast turkey, how is the cauliflower cooked?”

“Boiled, sah,” said Albert. Luke pulled a face. “Ma cooks them deep fried in batter,” he said. “Go easy on the cauliflower, then, string beans and mashed potato, fine. I’m not touching lobster salad, thank you, not on a journey, I’ll have wild dreams all night. I’ll stick with ice-cream, fruit of the season, and a cheese board.  We’ll have a bottle of California Reisling with the soup and fish, German Hock is no better, these days.  Ladies, will you be having beef or turkey?”

“It’s almost Thanksgiving; we’ll soon be sick of turkey,” said Ella. “We’ll have what you recommend, and that makes it easier for Albert, too,” she added.

Albert flashed her a grateful smile.

“Then a nice Chambertin with the beef,” said Luke. “I’ll finish with the ’42 cognac, do you ladies want crème de menthe, or anisette or anything of that kind?”

“I’d as soon finish with a nice cup of tea,” said Miss Compton.

“A big pot of tea, then, as well to finish,” said Luke.

Albert opened his mouth to mention that tea was not usually served with dinner, and shut it again. He’d been well tipped; he’d make tea himself if he had to.

 

The dinner was delicious, and Luke considered it well worth the cost. It made a change to be waited on, and to have someone else do the cooking! He took himself to the back of the train to enjoy a quiet pipe under the big and starry prairie sky, and then, contented, went back to his cabin, where Albert was sorting out his bed.

“I used the bedlinen from the other bed here, sah, for Miss, as you’ve paid for it,” he said.

“Good thinking,” said Luke. “It certainly will beat sleeping through a sleety squall under a pine branch roof.”

“Goodness, sah, yes,” agreed Albert. “Not what I’d like to do.”

“It would have been worse if I didn’t know what to do,” said Luke.  “This is a holiday, and I mean to enjoy it; but I like the outdoor life.”

“Not for me, sah,” said Albert.

“It’s not for everyone,” said Luke, tipping him again.