Page 20 of Chloe's Christmas Escape
“Yes, Chloe, I’m sure.” The pacing stopped for a minute and then resumed.
Intrigued by his irritated tone, she opened her eyes to watch him. He had a firmly set jaw and a tic in his cheek that was pulsing with each step.
“Then why are you fretful?”
This was not the same man that had kissed her softly at her bedroom door the night before. Jackson had his arms crossed over his broad chest as he stared down the road. With every impatient tap of his foot, it was as if he thought he could make the stagecoach appear faster.
“The stagecoaches run on a tight schedule. It is unlike them to be late.” He frowned as he pulled out his watch to check the time.
What was that?
She could hear something in the distance. As she slowly got to her feet, she reached for her bag and his travel case, but before she could make it halfway down the stairs, he effortlessly took both from her and put them in one hand. With the other, he gripped the back of her elbow.
“You seem to be lost deep in your thoughts,” she couldn’t help but comment. “Did something happen?”
She already knew something had happened and had spent some of her time in the tub pondering it. Marshal Masters had intended to take the stage back to Pittsburgh, yet he left with the Wells Fargo stage instead. After the marshal’s departure, a sense of strain settled around Jackson’s eyes and mouth, a reaction she opted not to discuss in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Higgins.
When he walked her to her room after dinner, he gave her a sweet kiss and disappeared into his own room, claiming to be tired. There was no time for another conversation. She wanted to stomp her foot. She had a right to know what was happening. They might be lawmen, but it was her life that hung in the balance.
“Yes,” Jackson snapped. The stage rumbled to a stop just past them.
She pulled her limb free from his hold, gazing at him with astonished eyes. What had made him so upset with her? “I’m sorry, Chloe. Yes, something happened. But I will feel better once I tuck you into that stage.”
Tuck her in?
“What does that mean? Are you not coming with me?” Fear gripped her. Maybe all the kisses didn’t mean anything to him.
“I’m going to ride up top with the driver for the first leg. You’ll be inside with the curtains down. I promise nothing is going to happen to you.”
“You can’t make promises like that.”
Only three people stepped off the stage when it arrived, much fewer than the full coach she had been part of earlier. She could feel the chilly winter breeze seeping into the stage and heard a few shared stories between passengers about how hard it was to travel west because of the weather. Jackson held her tightly around the waist as he gingerly lifted her up and placed her inside.
She settled on the rear bench seat with an older woman and a younger girl sleeping against her side. It surprised Chloe the girl wasn’t against the window seat, but she paid no mind. Her eyes tried to make out the other faces, but it was too dark. All she saw were three shadowy forms on the other side.
“Chloe.” Jackson’s head appeared at the window beside her. “Here’s your satchel. The driver says that there is one stop in Oak Park and then we will be on our way with two other stops between here and Omaha. If you need anything, just rap on the side. Here.” His hand gripped hers and guided her fingers to a metal strip. Warm lips pressed on her knuckles. Then he released her hand and disappeared into the darkness.
She heard him climb up onto the driver’s bench, and the snick of the reins urging the horses into motion. The quiet was unnerving, but the motion of the coach lulled her back to sleep. Several hours later, the bump of the coach startled Chloe awake. Sunlight was filtering through the canvas flaps, and she could now see the faces of the other occupants.
“There’s a pretty girl.”
Chloe’s skin crawled at the sound of the slimy voice. Her eyes focused on the man directly across from her. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him. His gaze traveled across her form, as though he had memorized every detail, and her stomach churned in response. He took her lack of response in stride, simply shifting in his seat to move closer to her.
“Can I help you with something?” She surprised herself with the icy tone that cut through the silence, leaving a chill in the air.
“Is that any way to speak with your future husband?”
“I’m sorry. You must have me mistaken for someone else.” She pressed back against the seat, wishing that Jackson had not been so angry when they left Chicago. Perhaps then he’d have settled inside the coach with her.
The stranger let out a harsh laugh, and Chloe froze in her seat. She knew that sound. It was the last thing she’d heard at the waterfront before she saw the men throw someone in the water. A wave of nausea passed through her and she clamped a hand over her stomach, feeling the hard knots of oatmeal and half-digested toast twisting inside her like a wrung-out cloth. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to stay calm.
What was it Jackson told her to do?
She drummed her knuckles against the side of the coach; the sound muffled by the plush interior.
“Miss Kingston, I assure you I’m not at all confused.” The man reached out his arms to grab her.
“You are mistaken, sir. That is not my name.” She felt the urge to scream, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of the situation. The marshal’s stern instructions echoed in her head and Jackson’s warning that any deviation from the plan would be disastrous. She breathed deeply and steeled herself, holding back a wave of emotions threatening to break free.
