Chapter 9 Surprise Party

{

"Just keep stirring," Artie purred in the girl's bare neck. He stood behind Christian as she faced the stove, stirring a large pot of tomato sauce with a long-handled wooden spoon. The girl giggled as he stepped even closer behind her, speaking softly. "Are you sure you don't cook at home," he said, teasing, "it appears as if you know what you're doing." He leaned down, his nose touching the curls of black hair looped on top of her head, smelling a faint mix of fresh soap and last evening's perfume.

"I'm only doing what you tell me," Christian said. She nodded toward the other large pot, "and what is going in there? The water is boiling now. You wanted me to tell you when it boiled," she said, turning to look up at him. Her cobalt blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight as the train moved through the trees. Sunlight and shadows flickered constantly as the varnish car slide along the tracks.

Artie moved to the counter to open a wooden box. "That is for the pasta. I make large batches, cut it, dry it, and then store it until I want to use it." He reached in to pull out long, flat pieces of off-white noodles which were stiff and brittle. He broke one in half and showed her.

"I have never seen one un-cooked," Christian said, taking a small piece. She snapped it into smaller pieces. "This is what I eat in Italian restaurants?"

"Yes, there are names for all the different shapes and sizes." He said, putting a handful of noodles into the boiling water. "This is lasagna, which means wide flat noodles. You have probably eaten linguine, which is the long, thin, strands of noodles. It's all the same ingredients, just cut differently."

"Hmm," she said, watching him closely. "And how did you learn how to cook this?"

Artie winked at her, "I grew up in New York City," he laughed. "There are a lot of Italians there. In fact people from many countries live there, you can learn to cook any food and speak any language." He smiled and spoke in French, making the girl giggle again. "Or I can say the same in Italian or Spanish," he said, switching again to other languages. "It's all the same."

"That is amazing," Christian said, "I don't see how you keep it all straight. Plus Russian and the others that your partner said were useless to your work." She shook her head, causing a few tendrils of black hair to fall down around her neck, accenting her pale skin.

"Ah, Jim," Artie chuckled. "I forgot I was going to stop speaking English to him." He turned to look at a small wall clock, "I wonder how we are doing on time. We will be stopping soon for an hour to refuel and fill the water tank."

"Why so long?" Christian asked, stirring her pot again as she watched Artie lower noodles into the boiling water. "The previous times we refueled, it was done in minutes."

"Oh, I imagine there is another train coming toward us that we need to step aside for," he said. "Only one set of tracks so we have to share. We will put into a siding and wait until our next section of track is cleared. Occasionally we will have priority for a really important trip, especially when the President wants to speak to us in person." He paused, stirring the boiling water. "We try not to ask for that too often and abuse the system." He stepped back to the girl's side, "but enough about train schedules. I was going to tell you about New York."

"I would love to see it," she said, her voice falling to a whisper as she turned to him. "Maybe you could let me come with you someday? If I wouldn't be too much of a bother to you?"

"You? A bother?" Artie said, his voice rising in surprise, "It would be my pleasure to show you the city. You shall take carriage rides through the parks in the day, attend the theater at night," his voice announcing grandly as if on stage, "and spend each spare moment eating at every fine restaurant." He took her hands in his and pulled her closer, looking down at her. "When this crazy trip is over, we will spend a week or two traveling."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," she breathed. "Would James let us use the train without him being on board?"

"Oh, you couldn't pry him off this train. I think he'll be buried in it someday," he laughed, "But we will leave him and his train behind and stay in the grandest hotel." He released her hands to slide his arms around her waist. "But this afternoon, when we stop, you and I need to go on a secret mission in town. There is a big surprise tonight."

"Oh?" Christian's fingers tips touch the front of his vest as she took a step closer to stand against him. "And what surprise is that? Or can't you tell me?" The front door banged shut and other voices were again in the varnish car. She sighed as Artie released her.

"I will tell you when we leave," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Now back to the lasagna." He gently spun her and moved her back to the pot. "Stir, woman," he ordered, as she giggled. He turned to the hallway as Jim appeared, "Did Lori recover?"

"No, she died," Jim said, walking past the doorway, leaving an order of sweat and dirt behind in the hallway. "I pushed her body off the back." He turned into the bathroom and shut the door. Water was heard faintly as Lori appeared, looking equally sweaty and disheveled.

"I'm fine," Lori said, leaning against the doorway. "And I'm starving. That smells amazing!" Her eyes moved from pot to pot on the stove. "Is it ready yet?"

"Ready?" Artie said, staring at her in shock. "To eat? No, not for hours." He paused, letting out a long sigh, realizing she hadn't been joking. He opened the door to the ice box and reached in to pull out a bowl covered with a towel. "Here's a snack for now. Jim's usually starving after running too. Save him some."

Lori took the bowl and lifted the towel to see a pile of meat and vegetables from last night's dinner hidden underneath. "Jim? To heck with him, he thought a shower was more important than food!" She turned to walk up the hallway toward the swinging doors, reaching into the bowl with her fingers.

Artie turned back to Christian, "she must have a hollow leg. And you," he said wrapping an arm around her waist, "need to eat more. My mother would have a fit if she saw how thin you were. Tell me again where you two get food. Do you have an apartment with a kitchen? Like a house?"

"Are you trying to figure out where I live?" Christian said, smiling at him.

"Possibly," Artie said, grinning. "But only to bring you food, I swear. Or take you out to dinner."

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Later that afternoon….

{

"Sophie," Jim said, his voice low and stern, "I just said no. Don't touch that again." He gently pushed the kitten back with his hand, moving her along the top of the table. He pointed his finger at the kitten, which immediately attacked it with tiny sharp teeth. "It won't work; my hide is too thick for you." He managed to remove his finger and return to his work of rubbing empty brass cartridges with an oiled cloth. He squinted into one, tilting it toward the light coming from the small window of the lab where he sat. "I thought you were supposed to be looking for a mouse in the galley. Wasn't that why you were brought here?" The kitten gave him a long meow and sat down on the table. The black tail curled around the tiny body and the dark eyes watched him intently. "Too bad you can't help me with this," Jim said, talking more to himself now. "Everyone loves to shoot bullets but no one likes to refill the brass after." He put the cloth down and picked up a tool. With a quick snap of the wrist, he began knocking the spent primers out of the cartridges. He piled the tiny bits of metal on the table in front of him and lined the empty brass up in neat rows.

"Hey, Jim," Lori said, entering the narrow lab room. "What are you doing in here?" The blond dropped into the other low chair opposite the small table. "With your little helper," she said, reaching forward to pat the kitten's back. The kitten stood and walked closer to her, arching its spine.

"Making cartridges," Jim sighed. "I thought you were cooking in the galley. Learning how to cook lasagna seems to be an important task today." He continued to remove the primers, looking up from his hands now, to watch the girl.

Lori leaned closer to watch what he was doing. "The galley cooking class seems to be a private event and mostly spoken in other languages besides English. I think it was mostly in Italian but I'm not sure."

Jim paused to look at her more closely, "so you were feeling like the third wheel? I didn't realize the class was so exclusive." He shook his head, wondering if his partner was having better luck at questioning Christian than he had been lately with Lori.

"I'm sure your partner didn't mean to exclude me," she sighed dramatically, "but my partner gave me the 'go away' look." Jim raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Besides, when someone is speaking another language near me, I always feel like they are talking about me. I'm probably just being suspicious but did you ever feel like that?" Her smile made her question sound more light-hearted than her words.

"Oh, ya," Jim said, snorting, "Especially when Artie says something he knows I won't understand, and then laughs." He smiled, "but he knows I will get him back."

"Like with the betting today?" Lori laughed, "You didn't do very well with that bet. And that galley is full of large, dirty pots." Jim grumbled under his breath. "Are you supposed to be washing dishes now? They just went into the town to run errands so the room is empty."

"Oh, I would," Jim said, in mock seriousness, "But I am so busy with all this." He spread his hands to indicate the rows of brass cartridges. He scooped up the primers and stood to throw them in a nearby wastebasket. Sophie took advantage of his eyes being turned away and reached out a tiny paw to a cartridge. She poked it and the brass tipped over, knocking into the next one, sending the row over like a row of dominos. The kitten quickly pounced on the spinning bits of metal, knocking some off the table. Jim turned back at the sound of metal clacking onto the floor, "hey, you little devil," he said, gently pushing her back again. "Stop touching things." He picked her up and held her against his face. "Repeat after me, 'I promise to stop touching things that don't belong to me'," he growled. The kitten meowed and licked his nose.

"Oh, Sophie," Lori said, standing, "you just need a box…" her eyes darted around the room on neatly stacked, and full, boxes. "Well, this will do," she said, sliding past Jim in the narrow space to the back wall. She took down a top hat and placed it upside down on the table. "Now tell her to keep out of it and she'll be in there for hours."

"Really?" Jim said, laughing, "Reverse psychology on a cat?" He put Sophie on the table near the hat but again pushed her gently sideways, repeating, "no, don't touch that hat." The kitten immediately jumped into the hat, almost tipping it over. Her little face peeked out at him, the dark eyes watching. "Women," Jim said, tossing a clean handkerchief on top of the kitten's head. "Can't fight 'em," he sighed, picking up the tool again. "Here, you can do this part while I clean."

Lori took the tool and grabbed a handful of empty brass. "Do you make all your own bullets? I just buy them."

"Yes," Jim said, "my rifle is finicky about the shape of the lead; the cartridge has to be a certain size and shape to allow the action to work quickly without hanging up. And I adjust the amount of powder in the cartridge." He looked at her again over the oil cloth. "You can shoot firearms, right? We really haven't talked about that. You carry that scatter gun but I haven't seen you with a handgun."

"I can shoot," she said, watching her hands as she worked. "The shotgun makes people pay attention to me, stop running, start talking. Works like a charm." The pile of spent primers was building as was her line of empty brass casings. Sophie reached a paw out at the cartridges but Lori tilted the hat, jiggling it, and the kitten disappeared inside, underneath the handkerchief.

"So do we have any other details to review for tomorrow night's excitement?" Jim's eyes lifted to look into Lori's, her grey eyes instantly turning from relaxed to suspicious.

"The only details I will review tonight," she said, a slow smile coming back to her face, "is what's in lasagna." The pale grey eyes held his stare as the kitten peeked back out from inside the hat.

That evening…..

[

"Artemus," Jim said, putting his fork down and sitting back from the table. "That was an excellent meal. I don't think I will need to eat again for a day or two." He rubbed his stomach, sighing contentedly as his partner waved a wine glass at him.

"So glad you enjoyed it, James," Artie said, "I had a lot of help making it this time." He turned to wink at Christian. "Someone will be a good cook by the end of this trip."

"It wasn't as difficult as I imagined, especially with it written in the cook book," the dark hair girl said, blushing at Artemus. "But we did dirty every pot in the galley. I think we should all help clean up…"

"Oh, no," Artie said, sitting back to look across the table at his partner, "James would feel terrible if he didn't fulfill his part of the bet he lost so disastrously this morning." Jim burst out laughing and shaking his head, "besides we still have dessert."

"You aren't serious," Jim said, "I don't think I can eat another bite. And you are supposed to be making dessert." Christian and Lori both got up and moved through the swinging doors toward the galley. "I will need to run another five miles tomorrow at this rate." He paused as the girls immediately returned, each carrying a small box. "What are those," Jim said suspiciously as the boxes were placed on the table in front of him.

"Happy Birthday," the two girls said in unison as the regained their seats.

Jim glared over the boxes at his partner, "Really? I was hoping you had forgotten this year. You hadn't said anything all day and you tricked me into losing a bet."

"Tricked you? Now that's a new one," Artie snorted. "Happy Birthday, James, my boy," He said, reaching over to refill his friend's glass. He rolled his eyes as his partner paused to stare at the boxes, "Just open them, they are completely safe. I watched both boxes being filled and have kept my eye on them ever since. Guaranteed not to explode."

"Wow," Lori laughed, "Christmas must be terrifying for you two."

Jim grimaced, "we only accept letters now. No boxes, no matter how small." He looked onto the floor at Sophie who was eating cold leftover chicken. "And last time I opened a box, I got a kitten." The cat, at noticing his attention, stood on her back legs and stretched her front paws out to him. "oh, fine," he said, leaning over to pick her up. "You can help me. Which one should I open first?"

"This one," Christian said, pointing to the box that was slightly smaller.

Jim fixed her with another suspicious look but picked up the box and shook it slowly. A loud clunking sound was heard from inside. Putting the kitten in his lap, he opened the top flap and removed a large, dark blue ceramic mug.

"A shaving mug?" Jim asked, looking at her. "I have a shaving mug but thanks for the new one."

"Well, you used to have a shaving mug," Christian said slowly, "something terrible happened to it, accidentally, this morning and coincidentally it was your birthday so…"

"You broke my old shaving mug and bought me a new one?" Jim said slowly, waving the new mug toward the girl, "that old mug was a family heirloom. What will I tell me mother?"

"What?" The girl's face reddened as Artie choked on wine. "I'm so sorry. I knocked it onto the floor and …"

"It was not," Artie managed to blurt out, still coughing, "You are the worst liar." Christian immediacy stopped talking to glare at Jim as the others roared in laughter. "Open the other gift but don't pick it up and shake it. Just lift the cover," he added, pointing at the larger box.

"Why?" Jim leaned forward, muttering, "You're making me worried again." He put the mug down onto the table and placed his hands gingerly on either side of the large box, noticing the cover would need to lift straight up. Moving slowly, he removed the cover and peered into the box. His blue eyes looked up at Artie, "really, a cake?"

"It was her idea," Artie said, grinning, pointing at Lori. "She said you had to have a birthday cake." Lori grinned as Jim's glare turned to her.

"Or course you have to have a birthday cake," Lori said, "You're lucky we aren't singing happy birthday to you." Jim shook his head and looked back at the cake. "It's a cheese cake so it's made of healthy dairy ingredients. And chocolate." She smiled at Artemus, "good choice, by the way." Artie waved his wine glass at her, nodding.

"Fine," Jim said, putting the cover back on. "But it's mine and I don't have to share it."

"What?" Lori said, sitting bolt upright, "are you going to eat it all yourself?"

"Maybe, it is my birthday gift. But if you want cake," Jim said, "you can help wash dishes first. Besides I couldn't eat another bite right now." He stood and held Sophie against his chest. "Into the kitchen, you and this lazy cat." He started to walk away but paused to look down at Christian, "and thank you for the new mug." He winked at her and flashed his dimples as the girl blushed. He stood and walked into the kitchen as Lori followed.

"Ok, free loader, onto the floor and find a mouse," he sat, squatting to the floor onto one knee to put the kitten down. "You remember what a mouse looks like?" The kitten meowed loudly and began to look around the floor, nervously backing up to hide behind his knee. The tiny tail wrapped around her body and she yowled again, looking up at him. Jim sighed and patted the soft fur, "you need to earn your keep. I will be right here with you." He stood up and stepped carefully to the sink, keeping one eye on the kitten.

"Do you really wash dishes? I guess I figured you guys would have a maid to do everything for you." Lori stepped next to him, her eyes moving from pot to pot, piled onto each other on the stove top and counters.

Jim sighed, facing the mound of pots. "We need to take all this shit out of the sink to fill it with water. Watch out for knives though." He leaned over, squinting between the pots. "We try not to put anything sharp in the water." He started moving pots to the counters, talking as he worked. "We used to have a fellow that cooked and cleaned and ran errands, took care of our clothes," he sighed, "he was great. Tennyson was his name. He eventually started helping us with casework. He found he enjoyed it so much that he moved to London to join Scotland Yard." He chuckled, thinking back, "and then we had a maid for a few months but she suddenly came into money and quit." He reached in to plug the sink and began running water in the deep basin as Lori sprinkled in a powdered soap from a box. "So we decided that we could do everything ourselves. It's too crowded with a third person living here anyway, like Tennyson did. So we split the cleaning jobs, while Artie cooks most of the time and I take care of the horses. Obviously we can switch out if we need to, but it's easier this way. He hates my cooking and my horse keeps biting him."

"What?" Lori said, "I haven't had your cooking but why does your horse bite Artie? Maybe he tastes good." She picked up a large pot and put it into the water, washing it with a soft cloth. "This is a mess, and I know Christian washed some earlier today."

"Did she?" Jim said, surprised. He opened a drawer and pulled out a clean towel. "That was nice of her. Must be her guilty conscious for breaking my nice shaving mug." He looked at Lori, seeing her annoyed look, "so how did she break it?"

"She was moving things around in a cupboard, looking for a comb, and it fell out, bounced off the sink and hit the floor." She giggled, "Broke right in half. She was really upset though." She moved a pot and spoons, piled inside, clattered to the floor. "Dammit," she growled, leaning over to pick them up. Sophie peeked out from behind the leg of a lower cupboard, her tail nervously flickering. "Sorry, Sophie," Lori said as she stood and threw them into the water with a splash. "I'll wash, you put them away. Artie will have a fit if a spoon is in the wrong drawer."

Jim snorted, "you don't know how right you are." He opened a drawer to remove a towel. "And Christian was also using my comb? Didn't you two bring anything of your own?"

"Colonel Richmond told us to pack light," Lori said, "and that the train was well stocked with anything we might need. And he said how you two were so polite at sharing." She grinned at him as he laughed, "and I think he mentioned the train is Federal property, including most everything on it."

"It really is," Jim said, "except for our personal things like my comb and shaving mug," he growled. "So be careful with the fancy plates and glasses. I don't want to have to send a bill to Richmond for items you've broken," he added as she handed him a dripping plate. "So are you enjoying your train ride? It does get boring and long but still better than a public train."

"I'm spoiled for life," the girl said, handing him a handful of clean silverware, "but I think I am getting anxious for arriving in San Francisco. It is still taking days to get there."

"Anxious?" Jim said softly, "nervous? We still haven't discussed details of what you want to do. Wandering around the city in the dark trying to spot someone in particular may take days or weeks. This guy may not even be there."

"We'll just take it slow," Lori said, not meeting his eyes, "and stay flexible. You just never know what might happen." Jim stared at her but she handed him clean plates in silence as the usual chill descended between them.

Midnight...

[

"The most beautiful woman I have ever met?" Jim grinned, as he sat on the couch in the varnish car. Lori sat next to him, waiting for her question to be answered. The evening's game was quickly becoming more personal than the group's first night together days earlier. "That's easy. Jennifer Wingate," he said, sighing, his dimples deepening as he paused in conversation. "Ya, Jennifer…"

"Amazing how she slipped out of those handcuffs that night," Artie grinned, thinking back, "but they aren't really made for a woman's slender wrists and hands. I wonder where she is now." Artie sighed, sipping a glass of champagne.

"You two actually have a dreamy look," Lori laughed, "this is serious." Christian leaned closer, curious. "So do tell, who is Jennifer Wingate?"

"Oh, no," Jim said, shaking his head, as if to clear away the memories. "No, way, not telling that story," he said, waving a finger at his partner, "and neither are you! I can have some secrets around here. People using my comb and breaking my shaving mug," he teased, winking at Christian. "Were you using my toothbrush too?"

"Oh, I did," Christian said, leaning back in her arm chair, clearly annoyed, "just this morning I was cleaning my toe nails." She smiled sweetly at Jim's suspicious look. "Since that was your question, it's my turn," she said, looking across the coffee table to Artemus. "Can you show me how to make that cheese cake? That was marvelous!"

Artie thought for a minute, "I have never made one but I am sure there must be a recipe in one of those books." He nodded toward Jim, "someone keeps telling me I can't make desserts or I have to run for miles behind the train to work it off." He grinned as Jim nodded at him.

Lori looked at Jim, "how fast can this train travel? Flat versus downhill or uphill?"

Jim groaned, "another train question? I thought we were talking about more interesting topics tonight, like pretty girls I've met?"

"We were but you wouldn't tell us any interesting details," Lori said, "so it's back to the train questions. But maybe you don't know. I can ask Cobb. He has been full of information."

"Leave the engineer alone," Jim growled, "you keep pestering him with questions when he's working. What we need to discuss is what the plan is tomorrow night; in detail. You two have had the map of the city in my room all week studying the street layout. So I am not telling you what to do," he said, looking at both of them, "I just need to know what you're planning." Conversation stopped as the two women exchanged a look.

Lori finally looked from Jim to Artie, "As I have been saying, let's just keep it flexible."

Artie cleared his voice and said softly, "It's good to have at least a basis of a plan such as what area do you want to look at first, should we split up or stay together as a group? Also what does this fellow look like? I could draw his features out if you could describe him. It would be less dangerous for all of us if Jim and I knew a little more about this guy."

"And, since it's my birthday, you have to cooperate with me," Jim grinned, "you'd feel bad if I was killed on my birthday."

"Oh, nice," Artie snapped, glaring at Jim as the two girls gasped.

"Don't say that," Christian added, "that's bad luck."

Lori leaned forward to rap her knuckles on the coffee table, "quick knock on wood with me for luck and stop saying terrible things on your birthday."

Jim stared at the blond, "what the hell are you doing? Is that some good luck, farm people, folk lore?" He laughed, looking at the girls. "Since you are both so concerned for my health, let's start with Artie's suggestion of drawing this person that we need to find. He is pretty good with a pencil." Artie stood quietly and moved to the desk, opened a drawer, and returned with his large sketch book. The girls exchanged a look but then nodded and moved to either side of Artie. Lori leaned closer from the couch as Christian picked up a dining room chair and sat down next to his armchair. Satisfied that cooperation was finally beginning, though the usual chill had settled again over the group, Jim leaned over to pick Sophie off from the side of the couch. The tiny claws were sunk deep into the golden cloth where the kitten had been climbing. "I just had that re-covered," he sighed, as the kitten twisted in his hands. "You girls are too much trouble," he said to the kitten while stealing a glance at Lori next to him. He was rewarded with a glare from the pale eyes but she turned back to Artie and began suggesting facial descriptions. Artie's hand moved quickly as the two girls described the man they were looking for.

tbc...