"Mr. Drummond?" Rachel asked apprehensively, loitering on the threshold to his compartment.

"Hmm? What is it, Ms. Brown?"

"I came to ask you for some advice."

"I'll be frank with you. I am in no state to be giving advice," Henry sighed wearily. Not to be deterred, she took the seat across from him and studied his sullen expression.

"This is about Mr. Brady, isn't it?"

"You don't miss a thing, do you?"

"It's rather obvious, really, when you think about it," she shrugged modestly.

"How's that?"

"Well, Mr. Brady said last night that you two were good friends once. And the way you argued in court, it sounded less like lawyers and more like… Well, almost like Bert and me bickering." Henry regarded her pensively. Rachel worried that her insinuation might be taken the wrong way. After a moment, the shadow of amusement turned up one corner of his mouth.

"Well, you're not wrong."

"So you and he…?" she afforded him the courtesy of filling in the blank.

"No, I don't think so. Sometimes I thought- or hoped, rather- but no," he sighed, eyes distant in reminiscence. Rachel nodded sympathetically.

"If it helps, Mr. Drummond, I don't think you're to blame," she offered.

"I wish I could believe that."

"Why can't you? Mr. Brady was the one who got himself all worked up. And you should have seen him at the picnic-"

"I know. I know because I knew him. I shouldn't have pushed him to that point. I… I shouldn't have come."

"If you believe that, then you're twice a hypocrite," Rachel said quietly. Henry looked up sharply, and Rachel stared back with an even gaze. "This isn't about you. It isn't about Mr. Brady or Bert. You came here to fight for something more. And I still don't know if you were right, but you may as well stick to it." Henry was silent for a moment. Seemingly quelled, he sank back into the seat. Rachel began to wonder if she should apologize.

"You believe in the same God as Matt?" he asked softly after a few moments.

"Yes."

"In your opinion, would he have made it to heaven?"

"Well, I'm not qualified to say..." she protested, caught a little off guard by the question.

"I should hope that he would, but if he did, then I'm afraid I could never join him."

"You can't say that for certain."

"No, I think I'm pretty thoroughly damned. Just… Put a word in for the two of us, will you?"

"I will pray for you, yes." Henry finally smiled; it was a sad smile, but it was a start.

"Now, what was it you wanted to ask me about?" he asked, assuming his customary casual slouch.

"Oh. I was going to ask for some advice on what Bert and I should do next. You see, we're both unemployed. Bert doesn't have any connections besides Mr. Hornbeck and I'm not sure what terms they're on, and, well, I've never left the state of Tennessee." Henry pondered the predicament for a moment.

"Well, this train's bound for Chicago. In the short term, I can offer you two a room at my place. Just until you can get yourselves situated. And I wouldn't give up on Emmett just yet- that's Mr. Hornbeck, don't tell him I told you that- he's taken quite a liking you and Bert." Rachel thought she caught a mischievous glint in Henry's eye.

"That's very generous of you. I'm sure we could find some way to repay you."

"Don't worry about that for now. We'll figure something out."

"Thank you, Mr. Drummond," she stood and bowed her head gratefully. "I'd better go tell Bert." She offered an encouraging smile as she closed the compartment door behind her.