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Authors: Kristin Hannah
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phenomenal station.
The place was chock-full of travelers. People scurried up and down the wide, cream-colored steps, their muffled footsteps merging into a single, shuffling heartbeat of sound on the hard marble squares. They flowed and ebbed together like dancers. Gas jets in huge, sparkling chandeliers cast glimmering rays of light on the silvery tracks and shiny floor. Overhead, trapped in the small, leaded-glass squares of a domed window, hundreds of stars sparkled like glitter-dust.
Awestruck, he limped down to the crowded concourse below, merging awkwardly into the throng and letting it carry him forward. Several times along the way, he tripped, and just barely kept himself from falling. He didn't care. He would have fallen flat on his face a hundred times before he'd miss one second of this glorious cavalcade of humanity.
A sound reached his ears. A hissing, then a loud, jangled clanging.
Larence surged out of the crowd, dropped his valise down on an empty bench, and hurried out to the platform's edge. The incoming train rattled past him. Cool air whooshed through his hair. Hot steam pelted his cheeks.
The train jerked to a hissing stop, and sat there, steaming, clanging, rattling like a caged animal. The floor shuddered beneath Larence's feet. He leaned slightly forward, breathing in the smoky, humid air, reveling in the flutter-soft feel of it against his face.
His fingers curled around the piece of paper in his hands. The train was here, he had the ticket. Now all he needed was his partner, and the adventure could begin.
THE ENCHANTMENT
63
What a time they'd have together. His heart raced as he thought of the wonderful things they'd share, the good times they'd have on the trail.
He scrounged through his bulging pockets until he found his nickel-plated pocket watch and glanced at the time: 8:54.
She should be here by now. Craning his neck to take full advantage of his six-foot frame, he scanned the crowded concourse. It took less than a second to find
her.
She was walking—like she always walked, stiffly— down the stairs, her arms filled to overflowing with luggage.
He waved at her. "Over here, Miss Hatter."
Her lips thinned into the grimmest smile he'd ever seen. He limped toward her.
"Miss Hatter," he said, reaching her side, "it's great to see you again."
"Wonderful," she said through clenched teeth.
"May I help you with your bags?"
Emmaline groaned at the puppy-dog eagerness in his voice. God, she hoped she hadn't made a monumental mistake in coming here. Without bothering to slow down, she shoved three valises at him.
He grabbed them, wobbled precariously, but managed to keep moving. Emma grimaced and hurried ahead, trying to ignore the clomp, step, clomp, step of his gait as he limped along behind her. She stopped at the wooden bench. Digby rammed into her back, throwing her forward. She snapped over the bench's iron side like a rag doll. Her Piccadilly parasol and traveling satchel flew out of her hands.
"Sorry," came Digbyrs half-laughing voice behind her.
64 Kristin Hannah
She righted herself slowly, forcing herself to swallow the scathing retort that sprang to her lips.
' 'Here you go, lady," said one of the station attendants as he came up beside her. Her trunk thumped to the floor. Wincing at the sound, Emma clicked open her handbag and burrowed through the wrinkled silk interior for pennies. Pennies. She scowled. The man deserved more. She knew it; he knew it. But it was all she had—and she was damn lucky to have that. She'd had to sell her gold watch to get enough money for traveling expenses, and the fifty dollars she'd gotten for that wouldn't last long. Until she reached New Mexico and retrieved some cash from Dr. Dimwit's buddy, she was pinching every penny.
The attendant's open palm appeared beneath her chin. She plucked a penny from her bag and dropped it in his hand.
"Gee, thanks, lady."
As the disgruntled attendant walked away, Emma's efficient gaze swept the
The place was chock-full of travelers. People scurried up and down the wide, cream-colored steps, their muffled footsteps merging into a single, shuffling heartbeat of sound on the hard marble squares. They flowed and ebbed together like dancers. Gas jets in huge, sparkling chandeliers cast glimmering rays of light on the silvery tracks and shiny floor. Overhead, trapped in the small, leaded-glass squares of a domed window, hundreds of stars sparkled like glitter-dust.
Awestruck, he limped down to the crowded concourse below, merging awkwardly into the throng and letting it carry him forward. Several times along the way, he tripped, and just barely kept himself from falling. He didn't care. He would have fallen flat on his face a hundred times before he'd miss one second of this glorious cavalcade of humanity.
A sound reached his ears. A hissing, then a loud, jangled clanging.
Larence surged out of the crowd, dropped his valise down on an empty bench, and hurried out to the platform's edge. The incoming train rattled past him. Cool air whooshed through his hair. Hot steam pelted his cheeks.
The train jerked to a hissing stop, and sat there, steaming, clanging, rattling like a caged animal. The floor shuddered beneath Larence's feet. He leaned slightly forward, breathing in the smoky, humid air, reveling in the flutter-soft feel of it against his face.
His fingers curled around the piece of paper in his hands. The train was here, he had the ticket. Now all he needed was his partner, and the adventure could begin.
THE ENCHANTMENT
63
What a time they'd have together. His heart raced as he thought of the wonderful things they'd share, the good times they'd have on the trail.
He scrounged through his bulging pockets until he found his nickel-plated pocket watch and glanced at the time: 8:54.
She should be here by now. Craning his neck to take full advantage of his six-foot frame, he scanned the crowded concourse. It took less than a second to find
her.
She was walking—like she always walked, stiffly— down the stairs, her arms filled to overflowing with luggage.
He waved at her. "Over here, Miss Hatter."
Her lips thinned into the grimmest smile he'd ever seen. He limped toward her.
"Miss Hatter," he said, reaching her side, "it's great to see you again."
"Wonderful," she said through clenched teeth.
"May I help you with your bags?"
Emmaline groaned at the puppy-dog eagerness in his voice. God, she hoped she hadn't made a monumental mistake in coming here. Without bothering to slow down, she shoved three valises at him.
He grabbed them, wobbled precariously, but managed to keep moving. Emma grimaced and hurried ahead, trying to ignore the clomp, step, clomp, step of his gait as he limped along behind her. She stopped at the wooden bench. Digby rammed into her back, throwing her forward. She snapped over the bench's iron side like a rag doll. Her Piccadilly parasol and traveling satchel flew out of her hands.
"Sorry," came Digbyrs half-laughing voice behind her.
64 Kristin Hannah
She righted herself slowly, forcing herself to swallow the scathing retort that sprang to her lips.
' 'Here you go, lady," said one of the station attendants as he came up beside her. Her trunk thumped to the floor. Wincing at the sound, Emma clicked open her handbag and burrowed through the wrinkled silk interior for pennies. Pennies. She scowled. The man deserved more. She knew it; he knew it. But it was all she had—and she was damn lucky to have that. She'd had to sell her gold watch to get enough money for traveling expenses, and the fifty dollars she'd gotten for that wouldn't last long. Until she reached New Mexico and retrieved some cash from Dr. Dimwit's buddy, she was pinching every penny.
The attendant's open palm appeared beneath her chin. She plucked a penny from her bag and dropped it in his hand.
"Gee, thanks, lady."
As the disgruntled attendant walked away, Emma's efficient gaze swept the
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