Free Chase by Jessie Haas Page A

off nowgetoffnowgetoffnow. Phin sat rubbing his leg muscles back to life, listening for the sounds that Fraser persistently did not make.
    Â 
    A long time later the train stopped again.
    The stallion rose, impatient, quick moving. “Nay, don’t step on him.” There was a dragging sound. “Now, what am I going to do with you?” Fraser said. “What am I going to do at all?”
    Get out, Phin thought. Because I am! He rose, half crouching under the low ceiling, and tucked the flour sack into his belt. Without a cork the bottle wasn’t worth taking, but the sack would come in handy.
    With the train still, the sound cover was gone. Phin only moved when the stallion did. Fortunately the animal was as restless as he was. Soon Phin was far enough forward to see Fraser at the open door, staring at—
    What? Phin could see nothing but green and shadows. He had the impression of late afternoon, smelled apples and fresh pine sawdust. A breeze whirled the hay chaff into the air and the sun caught it, turning it to shifting golden needles.
    Fraser sighed.
    There was a second sigh, and Phin realized with aterrible start that the stallion had raised his head. The brilliant dark eyes were fixed on him.
    The stallion lifted his head minutely, lowered it, lifted again, as if sampling separate layers of air current. His nostrils flared, red as glowing coals. The sharp-cut ears focused on Phin for a long moment. Then one slanted at the man in the doorway.
    Phin almost put a finger to his lips. Don’t, he mouthed, knowing that was ridiculous. He was mesmerized by the movement in the delicate skin above the nostrils. It seemed to purl like flowing water or like smoke. He knew he should sink back out of sight, but he couldn’t, didn’t, until he heard footsteps outside. Then he crouched, turning his face away.
    â€œWhat’s all this?” someone said at the door. “Why are you riding here?”
    Fraser said, “It’s all right.”
    â€œAll right? This car’s supposed to be half empty. There’s supposed to be room for a shipment of furniture.” The man wasn’t noticeably Irish; Phin wondered where they were.
    â€œIt’s all right,” Fraser repeated. “I have this.”
    â€œWhat about him?” the voice said a moment later, grudgingly.
    â€œHe’s traveling with me,” Fraser said. “Know who this is? You’re lookin’ at Ned Plume.”
    â€œNever heard of him.”
    â€œA lot of people have. If you know what I mean.”
    â€œI don’t,” the man outside said firmly. “Never been mixed up in any of that.”
    â€œWhatever it is,” said a second voice. Phin hadn’t realized there were two of them.
    â€œDon’t be a fool!” the first man snapped. He crunched away.
    â€œThis’ll be a long wait,” the second man said. “She’ll be taking on water when we’re cleared to pull in.”
    â€œHow long?”
    â€œAn hour. Maybe two.”
    Fraser said, “Then we’ll get out for a bit.”
    â€œToo steep for the ramp, I’m thinkin’.”
    â€œHe’ll jump.”
    â€œAnd back in? I’ll admire to see that. He’s a fine Morgan.”
    â€œNo.” Fraser sounded occupied; saddling, likely. “Caught him wild on the northern plains—”
    â€œThat’s a Morgan,” the trainman said flatly. “Stood the trip well, hasn’t he? Just a little nervous-like. Now what about him?”
    The saddlebags slapped into place. “Sick,” Fraser said. “Contracted it from the neck of a bottle! Is there a doctor in town?”
    â€œThere is—white house next to the store. Got a little of the same sickness, from what I hear.”
    â€œThen maybe he knows the cure. I’ll ride up and see if he’ll take my friend in charge.” Leather creaked as Fraser mounted.
    Phin curled tight, arms around his