Chapter 7
I startle and Peeta's arms hold me steady. His lips are close to my ear as he whispers. "I don't have a ticket. Play along or I'll be thrown off."
I barely process his words because my body is on fire from the feel of his arms around me, and his warm breath on the side of my face. A faint scent of cinnamon and dill surrounds him, tickling my memory for some odd reason.
The conductor stands at our seat, looking intimidating in his blue frock coat and cap. "Sir, I saw you chase after the train and leap onto the side after we took off. Do you have a ticket?"
Peeta's hands drop from my shoulders and his right arm drapes around my waist as he turns toward the conductor. "I was talking to the stationmaster when the train left the depot. I had to run and jump on. Otherwise my wife would be going to Omaha without me."
He turns and gives me a sweet smile and my face is burning because he called me his wife.
"I need to see both your tickets," the conductor insists.
I feel Peeta's arm stiffen. "My wife is holding them," he lies smoothly.
What? Is he trying to get me kicked off the train, too? I scowl at him and reach into my pocket. "Here's mine," I say handing it to the conductor.
I look to Peeta. "I'm sure you were holding your own ticket."
"No Katniss, remember I asked you to hold it."
I find myself growing anxious at the game he is playing. "Well Peeta, I don't have it."
"Why don't you check your bag?" He is insistent.
I lean forward and open my satchel and pretend to look past my clothing. "Nope, it's not here."
"I must have lost it," he says, making a show of turning out his pockets, before wrapping his arm around my waist again. "I don't understand it. I paid for two tickets. I must have dropped it when I ran for the train.
The conductor frowns. "Next stop is Laramie. You can both get off and we'll telegraph the stationmaster to verify that you purchased two tickets."
"Will the train wait for the answer?" I ask panicked.
"It shouldn't be a problem if the Panem stationmaster gets right back to us," the conductor says.
The man leaves and Peeta immediately pulls his arm away.
"Why are you here?" I am angry with him for his brazenness, although at the same time strangely elated.
"Why did you leave without saying goodbye?" Peeta counters. "Haymitch left the station and ran to the bakery to tell me. It was lucky I was there to catch you." He rubs the back of his neck.
I shake my head in confusion, puzzled as to why Haymitch would be informing Peeta of my departure. "Why would you want to catch me? I came to Panem under false pretenses," I remind him. "I stayed because Delly and Rye needed my help. But no one needs me anymore."
Peeta looks upset. "That's not true Katniss. I need you."
I am astounded at his response, but something within compels me to continue speaking. "We are friends Peeta. Nothing more. You will find…"
Peeta stops my words with his lips. I am 26 years old and have only been kissed once before – a chaste peck from Gale years ago. But this kiss is nothing like that one. Peeta's hand cups my cheek and pulls me closer. His lips are firm; mine are yielding.
I know I should not allow it. He is too forward. We are in a public place. But I cannot force myself to break away. I am on fire. The sensation inside me grows warmer as it spreads throughout my body to the very tips of my being.
The kiss surpasses any I've read about in the stories in Godey's Lady's Book. I'd often thought the writers of those flowery tales had taken great liberties in their descriptions. But now I know they are true as I'm ready to swoon when Peeta finally pulls away.
We are both panting. I am flustered as he rests his forehead against mine. What is it about this man? Ever since I arrived in Panem I have gone through an assortment of emotions and they have all been linked to the man sitting next to me.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," Peeta says, pulling his face away. "But I had to do it, at least once."
It is all I can do to not reach out and pull him close again.
"I'm glad you did," I say boldly.
He seems surprised. "What about Finnick Odair?"
I snort. "I don't want Finnick."
"But you said…"
I interrupt him. "I thought that proposal letter came from Finnick. I thought he wanted me. Besides you only talked of friendship and Delly was going on and on about Finnick being a fine catch."
Peeta shakes his head. "I know she has become your friend Katniss, but Delly can be, well, peculiar. And my brother is even worse."
I laugh so hard at his unexpected comment that tears run down my cheeks.
Peeta spends the next two hours talking. A waterfall of words cascade over his lips. He tells about growing up in Illinois as the youngest son of a baker. His father died when he was eighteen, his mother only last year.
"She was upset with me at the time of her death," he explains. "So in her will she left the bakery to my oldest brother and her savings to Rye. That's how he was able to open the Mercantile."
He reaches into pocket and pulls out the watch he'd pressed into my hand on so many occasions. "This was my inheritance, my father's pocket watch."
My jaw drops at the unfairness. "Why did she leave you so little?"
He takes a deep breath and lets the air out slowly before answering. "My mother had a good friend with an unmarried daughter. She thought that her friend's daughter would be the perfect match for me. I disagreed."
Now I understand why Peeta was so upset when I arrived. It was much more than Delly blindsiding him. It was her playing matchmaker just like his mother had tried to do.
"So you came to Panem," I prompt him curious to hear more.
He chuckles nervously. "Yes. Rye wrote me several letters that greatly exaggerated the size of the town. He claimed it was booming and in sore need of a bakery. It seemed like a good opportunity to start my own business and get ahead. Otherwise I would have spent my entire life working for my oldest brother. But when I got here…"
He gives me a look and I know exactly what he means. Panem is small.
"If it weren't for Haymitch helping me to obtain a contract with the railroad to sell them my baked goods, I wouldn't have stayed. As it is, I'm barely eking out a living."
"In fact," he continues, "I'm fairly certain Delly lured you here because of a conversation I had with my brother about the lack of women in town." He rubs the back of his neck and his voice lowers. "I'd like a family of my own and it didn't seem very likely if I stayed in Panem."
For some reason my cheeks grow warm at his words about having a family. "Why would your brother encourage you to stay with so little opportunity?" I redirect the conversation.
Peeta runs a hand through his hair. "I've pondered that very question myself. Rye has sunk all of his inheritance into the Mercantile. He wants the town to grow. He needs it to if he's to stay in business.
"And I know he wants to help me. He feels bad about what our mother did. Although sometimes I think Rye only wants me in Panem because Delly is such a bad cook."
I laugh at his last comment.
"No, it's true. She nearly burned down the kitchen once. That's why I do all the cooking."
I had wondered at that. "You are a very good cook."
His eyes light up at the compliment.
"Peeta, why didn't you tell me all this before?" After listening to him I'm beyond ashamed of my childish plan to wound him because in many ways Peeta's story of loss and making a new beginning mirrors my own.
Peeta shakes his head. "You seemed so close to Delly. Thick as thieves."
I think about the evenings spent in Delly's room reading. Yes, I can see how that would appear to Peeta.
"Besides it took me a while to figure out that the odds were in my favor when Delly encouraged you to come to Panem," he adds. "I can't lose you now Katniss."
His words, combined with the genuinely sincere expression on his face, convinces me of the depth of his feelings.
The conductor walks down the aisle and announces we will soon be arriving at the Laramie station. Peeta talks faster. "Katniss, I don't have much to offer you. I'm hardly supporting myself. But please consider coming back with me. I'm sure my brother and Delly would let you stay and work for them. We could court and maybe next year when I have some money saved up we can..."
My heart races at his words. It's an easy decision. The thought of returning to my sister's house now and leaving this behind is unthinkable.
The conductor interrupts Peeta. "The train will stopped for the next twenty minutes," he says. "Get off now and the stationmaster can telegraph the Panem station to verify your ticket purchase."
"All right," Peeta answers. He stands up and reaches for my hand, squeezing it. "I'm sorry..." he begins.
But I stand up, too. "I'll go back with you."
A momentary look of astonishment crosses his face, but then he beams. "So I must have been around Rye and Delly long enough to glean some of their persuasive abilities."
"Perhaps," I say. But I don't tell Peeta that he had already me with his kiss.
He picks up the bag at my feet and together we leave the train. The conductor directs us inside the building and points out the stationmaster. "Talk to him regarding your lost ticket."
As soon as the conductor is gone, Peeta turns to me. "I ran out of the bakeshop so fast that I don't have any money on me," he explains. "We'll have to cash in your ticket to get back to Panem. But I'll pay you back."
I wonder what he would have done if I had refused him and decided to continue my trip? How would he have paid for a ticket back to Panem? I don't ask because I can guess. He'd have to sell his pocket watch.
There's no line to purchase tickets for the train. Peeta talks to the stationmaster and explains our predicament. The man allows me to cash in the remainder of my ticket. We pay for Peeta's trip from Panem to Laramie and then purchase return tickets back to Panem for the both of us.
Fortunately, there is money leftover from the transaction. When it is added to the funds I had set aside in my pocket to purchase food on the train, we have enough for a meal and overnight lodgings. We must spend the night in Laramie as there is no train back to Panem until the morning.
We walk out of the station. The late afternoon is warm and beautiful. White puffy clouds dot the bright blue sky. In the distance are snow-tipped mountains. A gentle breeze blows.
Neither of us has been to Lararmie before and we welcome the opportunity to explore. The town has a population of about eight hundred, nearly eight times more than tiny Panem.
There are very few women on the boardwalk that lines the dirt streets, and those I notice are dressed in outlandishly colorful garb. Several men who walk toward us try to catch my eye. Some are soldiers in uniform from the nearby Fort Sander, others are ranchers dressed in their cowboy attire. After one man's glance turns from a penetrating stare into to lascivious leer, Peeta loops his arm through mine. I am pleased to have his protection.
On our walk we visit a general store, which is far larger than Rye's business, and then the Eagle Bakery on "B" Street. Peeta spends a long time talking with the owner about different kinds of flour and the modifications that must be made in recipes when cooking at higher elevations. From the conversation, Peeta's expertise at baking is apparent.
After we have seen the town, we stop for a steak dinner. The cattle business is growing rapidly in Wyoming Territory and the meat is fresh and tender. As we wait for our meal, the waiter suggests that Peeta purchase a bottle of champagne to go with it.
Peeta refuses.
"But all the ladies like champagne," the waiter insists. He winks at me. "Isn't that true." He points at some other couples dining in the restaurant.
I am puzzled by the server's wink, but even more surprised at Peeta's reaction. He gets angry and insists that the man leave us alone.
"What is wrong?" I whisper when the waiter has left.
He nods toward the other tables. "Those woman are prostitutes, Katniss."
My jaw drops. Is that why I was being stared at while walking on the streets today? I guess Delly was right about the lack of eligible single women in Wyoming.
Peeta changes the subject. "Katniss, can I ask you something personal?"
I nod, uncertain of what he might be thinking.
"Why did you answer the ad Delly placed in the newspaper?"
After spending the afternoon with Peeta and getting to know him so much better, I feel comfortable revealing my loss as well. I tell him of my parents' tragic demise, and moving in with my sister and her husband.
"They were kind, but I wanted more. The newspaper ad and then the letters that followed, well it gave me hope that I could have a life of my own."
"There wasn't anyone else in Omaha that you were, perhaps, fleeing from?" Peeta hints.
I laugh. "No one."
A tiny grin forms on his lips.
"Are you smiling at my lack of beaus?" I tease him.
"Just surprised."
"Why? Because of all the interest I've garnered in Panem? I don't have much competition in that town."
"You don't have much competition anywhere," Peeta says. His arm stretches across the table and he squeezes my hand.
We pay for our meal and leave the restaurant. It is nearly dark now and we need to find lodging.
We'd passed several hotels as we walked through Laramie this afternoon, but we make our way to New York House, which is located across from the train station. Unlike some of the others we noticed, it looks to be a very respectable establishment and even has a sign advertising that breakfast is provided to all guests.
We enter and approach the manager on duty. He has rooms available, however we don't have enough money to pay for two rooms. We step outside to discuss the matter.
"I'll sleep on a bench at the train station," Peeta says.
"No. We can find cheaper lodgings elsewhere so we both have a room."
Peeta shakes his head. "Katniss, you wouldn't be safe alone in your room in most of those other places. Someone could break in…" He doesn't need to finish his statement. I can guess at what he's thinking. And, unfortunately, I know he's right.
"Well, stay here with me then," I say. "Sleep on the floor."
He rubs the back of his neck. "Are you sure?"
I nod.
"Okaaay," he says, stretching out the word. He searches my face.
"It will be fine," I reassure him. Even if it is improper nobody knows us here, I convince myself. But a nagging sense makes me think it might not be such a good idea.
Author's Note: In 1837 Samuel Morse independently developed and patented an electrical telegraph. Telegraph lines often ran alongside railroad tracks in the United States. Train depots used the telegraph to keep in touch with other stations down the line.
Fort Sander, located a few miles north of Laramie, was built in 1866 to protect railroad workers from the native American peoples in the area. It was originally named Fort Buford.
Breads and cakes usually require recipe adjustments such as increased dry ingredients and higher oven temperatures when cooked at altitudes above 3,500 feet. Why? The higher the altitude, the lower the atmospheric pressure. Lower pressure in turn causes water to evaporate more quickly, and boil at a lower temperature. The elevation of Laramie, Wyoming, is 7,165 feet.