happened—before they locked her up behind the closed doors of some cold institution where they would permanently douse the shining light that was his Miss Merry.
Daniel wouldn't say he needed Georgina. He had quit needing anybody once he had turned eighteen and learned the ways of the world. He couldn't say he loved her. He didn't know a whole lot about love except to know there wasn't much of it to be found.
But he could say she was his wife and belonged by his side and in his bed, despite whatever crazy promises he may have given. Georgina Meredith Mulloney very definitely belonged in his life. And if her family didn't want her, he most certainly did.
So he drove his horse and himself and the plucky pair behind him until the point of exhaustion. They rode through sleepy little towns that had retired for the night. They rode through vast fields of corn and wheat where only the hoot of an owl gave evidence of any other life besides themselves. They rode past solitary farmhouses, dark with sleep. And at no time was there any evidence of trains or rails or a steam engine chugging down tracks toward Chicago.
Daniel began to fear he had taken the wrong route, chosen the wrong star to follow, and they were riding hellbent for nowhere. He tried to count the miles in his head, figure the speed of his horse, calculate the distance he was cutting off, but he didn't know this territory. He hadn't scouted ahead as Ben had taught him. He hadn't known his enemy was out here, among the corn and wheat fields. He could only keep riding and pray that Someone was watching over him.
The first low moan of the train whistle nearly startled Daniel into stopping. He glanced madly about, searching for the crossing, the station, the reason for the signal echoing across the distance. He saw nothing but waving acres of grain.
It was then that Daniel realized how sound traveled through the night air, covering untold distances. The train was out there. He just had to find it, to stop it, to board it, and to find Georgie.
One thing at a time. Without glancing at Tyler and Evie, Daniel spurred his horse down the road.
Off to the side he could see the headlight appearing out of the darkness as the whistle grew louder. The train had to be approaching the station. There had to be a town somewhere ahead. And he had to get there before the train did.
He felt sorry for his horse. Daniel promised it all the hay it could eat and a lifetime in pasture, but he had to have just a little more speed. He wished he had the thoroughbred he'd left getting fat and sassy at Tyler's plantation. That horse had wings. This one was meant for reliability, not speed. He cursed as the train whistle whined again. It was coming into the station.
At last, Daniel saw the silhouettes of buildings in the open field ahead. He didn't know what town it was, but there had to be a station there. The train was slowing down. He could hear the distinctive clackety-clack of the wheels. They weren't going to make it.
"Leave the horses. Get Evie on the train. I'll be right behind you." Tyler came up to Daniel's side, throwing his words over his shoulder as he pressed his horse faster.
Daniel didn't ask what he intended to do. Tyler was capable of anything, but he favored fast-talking his way through most situations. Daniel let him go. Talk wouldn't get him to Georgie.
He brought his horse to a panting halt just outside the low-slung building that had to be the station. The massive shape of the train already hissed and rattled at the platform. Light shone occasionally through curtains not completely closed, but for the most part, the train cars looked as dead as the town. There was no sign of Tyler, and Daniel reached to help Evie down.
She was looking for Tyler, too, but she ran obediently with Daniel, holding up her riding skirt and clicking her heeled boots down the wooden platform. Daniel caught the railed bar of the nearest passenger car and grabbed her hand, hauling her on to the steps without speaking. The train wouldn't idle long in a place like this. They would be filling up with water and fuel and moving on. Even the ticket office would be closed at this hour. They would pay the conductor when