The Christmas Express by Monique Martin

Author:Monique Martin [Martin, Monique]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Monique Martin

Elizabeth found Mr. Clemens sitting in the smoking car of the train reading the San Francisco Chronicle, one of the newspapers Ambrose had brought on board at their last stop. It was probably a day or two old by now, but that was still hot off the presses as far as anyone in 1898 was concerned.

He set the paper aside and checked his watch. The watch. He paused to admire it for a moment, and she made her move.

“Beautiful watch,” she said.

He looked up, surprised to see her. “Yes, it is.” He rose from his seat and gestured for her to take the one opposite him.

She sat down and then casually leaned forward to admire it again. “Very unusual.”

“I’ve been trying to figure out what all those other dials are for,” he said wiggling his fingers toward the face. “Very curious.”

She hoped he didn’t try too hard to figure it out. She knew precisely when the next eclipse was—Christmas night. And if Clemens made the same “discovery” she and Simon had all those years ago, they were all in trouble.

“May I?” she asked, holding out her hand.

He hesitated for the briefest of moments then unattached the t-bar from the buttonhole in his vest and handed her the Albert chain and watch.

She held it in her hand and, for a split-second, considered just making a run for it. She might have even made it off the train, but running harum-scarum through the streets of Ogden looking for Simon and Charlotte would undoubtedly not have ended well.

If she’d been deft of hand she could have pulled the old switcheroo right there and swapped the real one out for their replica, but she wasn’t and she didn’t have the other with her anyway. Maybe she should take magic lessons when she got back. It was a possible backup plan for later, though, if her far better plan to win it in a poker game failed.

“It’s lovely,” she said, running her fingers over the delicately embossed gold case. Reluctantly, she handed it back to him. So close and yet so far.

“I hope Charlotte hasn’t been a bother,” she said.

He glanced at a small jar hanging from the window latch from what she realized was her daughter’s green hair ribbon. She could just make out the small note attached. “Hardly that,” he said.

A surge of pride went through her. Her kid was all right. “I’m glad. Well, I guess I’ll leave you to your paper.”

She stood. He rose halfway out of his seat as she did.

“Oh,” she added as an afterthought. “I understand that you enjoy a good game of poker.”

His bushy eyebrows rose. “Do you play, madam?”

“I don’t play,” she said with a cheeky smile, “I win.”

He laughed and slapped his knee. “Very good. I like that. Confident.” He put his cigar in his mouth, slowly rotated it in place, his expression matching hers now. “Misplaced though it is.”

Her grin widened. “Is it?”

“I must warn you. I was weaned on cards at a tender

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