Chapter Eleven
Insert from Ch 10
While Jarrod was talking to his mother, Nick, Heath and Chelsie were boarding the midnight train in Carson City.
"Still think this is an insane hour to be boarding a train." Chelsie looked at Nick before she started climbing the steps that led up to the train car they'd be riding in.
"I agree." Nick told her as he and Heath followed her up the steps and into the train car they'd be riding on. Since Nick had paid bit extra, they had a private car. Not that the train was overly crowded at this time of night, it wasn't. Nick had simply wanted the three of them to be able to talk freely without the worry of someone overhearing and then repeating things. …
Nick, who had been unable to sleep, sat next to the window gazing up at the night sky as the train sped towards San Francisco where they would board a train to Stockton. He stopped when he heard the swishing of a skirt. "Thought you were asleep," Nick gave Chelsie a tired smile.
"Same here; that is, I thought you'd be cutting a few Z's." Chelsie sat down across from him, understanding was in her eyes. "The past?"
Nick nodded. "Partly," he shifted his weight and sat a bit straighter. As he did so, he had a scene flash past his eyes.
Nick sat on the ground, against a stone wall that was circular shaped and stood a good nine feet. It wasn't an official prison of war camp-just a holding place thatthe local farmer (an injured Confederate soldier who had been sent home early due to his wounds) had hadhis sons and friend build -should they happen to catch the enemy on their land. That farmer, along with the man's brother, had caught Nick and his comrade and were now holding the two men until a Confederate officer could pick them up.
"What?!" Nick moved away from the wall as the end of a rope dropped in between him and his fellow comrade.
"It's a trap! They want to shoot us while we escape!" The other prisoner insisted as Nick quickly stood up, grabbed the end of the rope and started climbing. Maybe the other soldier was right only the way Nick saw it-he was better off being shot now than going to any prison camp.
"You could have been killed that night." Nick, who still marveled as he thought on the sight that met his eyes when he got to the top of the nine-foot wall… Chelsie in the huge oak tree that stood a few feet from the wall. She'd tied one end of the rope around one of the large branches and thrown the other end over the top of the wall.
"You could have died or been seriously injured when you jumped off that wall. At the time, I thought you'd hold the rope as you jumped-you know use it as a swing – so to speak. I'm surprised you got away with only serious bruising." Chelsie smiled as she shot back her remark.
"Thought about that for a second only I figured the other man might want to go ahead and use it to get out as well." Nick told her.
She admitted she'd figured that-after he'd told her about the other man. "Did he? I mean, do you know if he ever used the rope or not?" She asked the question as they'd waited a few minutes before taking off, not daring to wait too long.
Nick shrugged his shoulders. "I don't rightly know. We weren't from the same unit and, after fleeing with you and making it back to my unit, I never saw him-or any member of his unit-again." He replied as he thought on the escape, along with the events that transpired from the time he jumped from the wall to the time he rejoined his unit. He couldn't help but shudder a little.
Chelsie, who did not miss the slight shudder, sighed. That had been one long, dangerous night. "You still can't talk about most of that night, can you?"
"Can you?" Nick's eyes dared her to say she could.
After what seemed to an eternity to both of them, Chelsie shook her head. "No. Never said a word to my parents or siblings. None of them even knew I slipped out of the house. Well, my twin did find out when I got home-as she caught me going back into the house. Only, right or wrong, I didn't tell her where I had actually gone. I told her I simply couldn't sleep and had gone for a long walk. She probably would have wrung my neck- and told our parents everything. Mind you, she's pretty good now. I mean, she can be trusted with secrets like surprise birthday parties and such, but nothing more serious. To her credit, she admits she has a problem gossiping and is, from what I hear, seriously working on breaking that bad habit."
Again, silence fell between them until both of them started yawning. "I think I'll be able to fall asleep for a while." Chelsie stood up. "What about you?"
"Yeah, think I can catch at least twenty winks." Nick nodded and stood up. It wasn't long before both Nick and Chelsie were in their beds sleeping. Only when the train pulled into the station did they, along with Heath woke up. Within the hour, the three had switched trains and were headed for Stockton.
Unbeknownst to them, Crown and one of his men-Frank Judson- happened to be at the train station and saw Nick, Heath and Chelsie board the train to Stockton.
"The Lane fellow contacted me again." Frank looked at Crown. "He still insists that he can secure that land next to the Barkleys' within the year, only he says he and his friend need our help, says he needs to get that girl back. Of course, he had no idea she was with the Barkleys when he talked to me. Should I give it to him, help that is?"
Crown, who taken Hannibal Jordan's place when the man had a massive heart attack and died, watched the train pull away. "If Harold wants to try to get her away from them before they reach Stockton, let him. Other than that, no. I've watched people fight the Barkleys for many years and fought them myself. It doesn't work. Besides, my father always told me every bullet has a name on it. I'm getting too old take the risk of finding a bullet catching up with me or any of my men at the moment-with the exception of Harold." He thought of his sister's annoying stepson. Then, he added slowly, "It's not like it's imperative for the railroad to get that land. Sure, it would be nice only not necessary. That being the case-if Harold can't get the girl - I say let Mr. Lane, his friends and the Barkleys, can take the risk of finding any bullet that may have their name on it." Crown turned around and walked away-never admitting just how close he'd have Thomas Lane watched.
"Yes, sir." Frank followed his boss and never gave the Lanes, and their request for help, another thought. Well, other than to stop by a telegraph office and send a wire informing Thomas Lane that Thomas, and anyone helping the Lanes, Harold was the only help they were going to get from Crown.