but not marry her. She will end up like her grandmama. We must see her safely married," her mother had said. Because there were no young men in Italy willing to marry her without a dowry, they had sent her to America to marry a man more than twice her age.
Whether Angelina felt married or not, she had pledged herself to her father's friend. And she was tired of living off the charity of others who had little enough for themselves. Her sense of honor chafed at taking Tonio's, and her common sense warned of the danger of being too near him. Once on board the train, she wouldn't need an escort. How dangerous could riding a train alone be? At the train depot in Jersey, she would lose him and continue on her own.
She turned back to stare out the window, fixing her gaze on the Dewar's Whiskey sign outside as it drifted in and out of view in the thick, ponderous fog. She hoped she looked serene and calm as she stood there, her mind whirling with her plan. She felt confident. She had only one small, niggling worry—Tonio was smart.
The terminal bristled with people. Two ferry runs had already been canceled due to poor visibility and high winds. People jostled past her as they moved toward the ticket lines. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag with the croissant she had purchased the day before at her favorite panetteria. She took a big bite of the confection. Its whipped chocolate filling oozed out over her lips. She turned again to monitor Tonio's progress. He was still at the window. She caught his eye as she slowly and deliberately licked the chocolate away.
He smiled and mouthed something to her, but she missed his message. Someone bumped her from behind. As she turned to look she was hit again. The croissant fell from her hand to the floor.
"Smettila! Stop it!" She whirled on the perpetrator. "Imbecile! It is ruined!" She pointed to the croissant.
The stocky man she faced spoke in a low, abasing tone. "Why don't you let me buy you a new one?" He reached to chuck her chin.
She turned away quickly and with exaggerated motions, counted her bags aloud in stilted, accented English. Her eyes darted around looking for an accomplice. Gypsies in Naples used this ruse to steal from weary travelers.
"One, two, three—"
"You think I'm trying to steal your bags?" He moved closer to her, intentionally bumping the side of her breast with his arm. He reeked of stale sweat and cigarette smoke. "I just want to get to know you. You're such a pretty lady."
She shoved him away and let loose a string of angry Italian, gesturing dramatically as she did so. The man's eyes widened. He put his hands up in mock surrender before taking a step back.
"The lady told you to take a walk." Tonio spoke from directly behind her. She'd been so occupied she hadn't heard him approach.
The man backed off and disappeared into the crowd as spooked as if he'd seen a statue of the Virgin Mary cry.
"Boo!" Angelina whispered beneath her breath, delighted. She turned to face Tonio. "I was handling him."
"Were you?" Tonio stood with his coat cocked back to reveal the silver handle of a lethal looking stiletto sheathed in a leather case attached to his belt.
Angelina stared at the knife and then smiled at Tonio. "Nice blade."
"Sharp, too," he said. "Make your husband get you one when we reach the Silver Valley. They come in handy for all kinds of things—slicing meat, scaring off unwanted suitors…"
"You use yours for scaring off the ladies, then?" She grinned at him. "The women in this mining country of yours must be very aggressive."
He laughed. "You'd be surprised."
Angelina arched a brow to show her skepticism.
He laughed again as he took her arm. "Seriously, Angel. No one walks around the valley unarmed."
"I hate knives."
"Get over it or get a gun and learn to shoot." He grabbed a handful of bags. "Come on. The ferries are running again. They'll make the announcement in a minute. We have to hurry if we want to beat the crowd and make it on."
The humid, departing fog chilled the air on the deck of the Cincinnati. Angelina huddled her arms tightly against herself for warmth as she leaned against the rail and retched into the tumultuous, blue-green Hudson River below. The wind whipped at her, streaking her hair across her face and stinging her