Free Time of Fog and Fire: A Molly Murphy Mystery (Molly Murphy Mysteries) by Rhys Bowen

and most comfortable route. I could probably get you out on the Western Pacific, Denver Rio Grande and Western routes, but it would mean changes and layovers.”
    “Would you take a look and see if you have any seats for today?” I said. “I’ve been summoned to my husband in California as quickly as possible.” Having plucked up all of my courage to undertake this foolhardy journey I didn’t think I could face going back home again for another night and then repeating the good-byes all over again.
    He flicked through the pages of a ledger. “Very well, but I can assure you that—” He stopped. “Well, blow me down. Would you look at that?” he said. I tried to see what he was pointing at but couldn’t read upside down. He looked up at me, as pleased with himself as if he’d produced a rabbit out of a hat. “There’s been a cancellation. You’re in luck. I’ve no sleeping berth between here and Chicago, but it would mean just sitting up the one night. But the cancellation is for a second-class berth between Chicago and San Francisco. That will be sixty-five dollars, please.”
    My heart was in my mouth as I counted out the bills and handed over the sixty-five dollars. What would Daniel say to this extravagant purchase? Was I really doing the right thing?

 
    Nine
    My anxiety turned to anger as I came away with my ticket and followed the porter with our luggage across the station to the waiting train. The air was heavy with smoke as massive locomotives hissed and puffed. Whistles and shouts competed with the sound of running feet. I hurried to keep up with the porter. Why couldn’t Daniel have told me clearly what he wanted of me? Why did he have to put me through this?
    Liam wriggled and squirmed in my arms and I wished there had been a way to bring his buggy with us. I’d have to try and rent or borrow one when I arrived in San Francisco because I certainly couldn’t carry him around until we found Daniel.
    My bags were safely stowed in the baggage car. My seat was located for me—certainly not a wooden bench but a comfortable plush seat in a long car. The porter put my bag on the rack above my head and I settled down. Liam had been fascinated by the trains and was happy to stand on the seat beside me, looking out of the window. When I opened my purse to find my handkerchief I pulled out Gus’s envelope, which I had quite forgotten. I opened it, expecting to find a funny card or letter and was overwhelmed to see instead five twenty-dollar bills.
    For emergencies, was written on the note with them.
    My eyes misted over at their kindness. Who knew what emergencies I might encounter before I was reunited with my husband?
    The platform became a hive of activity. Porters wheeled mounds of luggage past our window. Smartly dressed couples headed for the first-class section of the train. For the first time I felt a small thrill of excitement. I was, after all, going across a vast country. I’d be seeing things I’d only dreamed of. And at the end of it I’d be with my husband, whether he actually wanted me there or not.
    A whistle blew. A shout of “All aboard!” There were running feet. Then almost imperceptibly slowly we started to move forward. Then a little faster. At the end of the platform we plunged into the darkness of a tunnel. The air in the railcar became smoky and I tasted soot on my lips. Liam had been standing up, looking at the trains with fascination, but flung himself back into my lap with a wail as we went into the tunnel.
    “It’s all right,” I said. “We’ll soon be out again.”
    And we came back out into daylight. We were moving fast now and the streets of Manhattan soon gave way to the jumble of new rows of houses, old shacks, and market gardens that made up the northernmost reaches of the city. Then we crossed water on a bridge and were soon traveling along the edge of the Hudson River. Twilight was falling and the snow-clad hills were tinged with pink. The river glistened as