Free Behind a Lady's Smile by Jane Goodger Page B

respectable young woman traveling with her husband.”
    She grinned. “I’m not respectable?”
    “Why does that thought make you smile?”
    “I suppose I think it’s all so silly. I’m the same person she befriended. And you’re suggesting she wouldn’t be my friend if she knew the truth?”
    Mitch drew back slightly. “I hope you’re not getting any ideas, Miss Hayes. You’ve been living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for most of your life; you don’t know about society and how nasty it can be. Just take my word for it, this is a secret that’s best kept. Understood?”
    Genny sighed. “Understood. But I do think Mrs. Walsh wouldn’t retract her friendship simply because I’m not a wife.”
    “You’ll just have to take my word for it,” he repeated darkly.
     
    Only six hours into their trip, Mitch could tell Genny was getting a bit stir crazy. Another niggling of worry struck him. Genny had grown up in a cabin, had foraged for food alongside her father, had chopped firewood and cooked on a stove made decades ago. As he looked around at the other women on the train, they were all occupied with various female activities they’d no doubt learned from their mamas. Even he knew women were always busy with something or other—cooking or mending or caring for children. Almost as if on cue, every woman on the train had pulled out some sort of project that involved a needle and gotten started. Heck, the whole time Genny had been talking to Mrs. Walsh, the older woman had been knitting in a frenzy, as if she were trying to get something completed before they pulled in to Omaha.
    Genny let out a small sigh, leaned her head against the window, and watched the dry, rolling hills that dominated the landscape go by. There’d be plenty of sights to see later in the trip, but at the moment, there wasn’t much more than grass and scrub to occupy the imagination. He had to find something useful for her to do during their trip. He tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to him, a smile on her face, an unexpected bit of cheer that had him grateful she was such a good traveling companion. “Want me to teach you how to play poker?”
    And that’s how they occupied their time until Chinese waiters, their braids slapping back and forth, served them a dinner of roasted oysters and beef.
    As the sky darkened outside, the porter lit their oil lamps, giving the room a cozy feeling of intimacy. One of the passengers took out an accordion and at the first note, Genny moved toward the edge of her seat, flashing him another brilliant smile. Every time she gave him one of those, his gut hurt a little bit more. He was starting to wish she was a bit more ornery so he could relax. He felt on edge, as if he wanted to punch something—like the middle-aged man who kept leering at Genny. Didn’t he know she was married? Hell, even if she wasn’t really, Mitch still wanted to punch the bastard. What kind of man looked at another man’s wife like that? Mitch glared at him until the man’s focus shifted to Mitch and the older man started, immediately bringing his attention back to the accordion player.
    “Oh, this is lovely, isn’t it, Mitch? And to think I was nervous about riding on a train. I barely remember our trip out West, but the time we were on the train was rather frightening. And dirty.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory. “I remember my face and hands were completely covered with black dust. And my father’s too. I hardly recognized him, and of course, I didn’t know it would all wash off.” She looked around the room as if she’d never seen anything so delightful in her life. “But this, this is like traveling in a moving hotel.”
    “That’s the point of it. Here, let’s switch spots so you can see better.”
    That grand idea turned out to be one of the worst mistakes Mitch could have made. For as the evening wore on and the accordion player switched to melancholy songs, Mitch could see Genny grow more