Stacy Henrie - The Outlaw's Secret

“Oh, my,” the babe’s mother cried, her face draining of color. She clutched her child to her bosom. “Whatever do they want?”

“Money, most likely.” Essie stuffed her notebook into her valise, anxious to be ready for whatever lay ahead. “Although they might wish to take a few women along as hostages, as well.”

Like in The Train Robber’s Bride, the latest dime novel from her professional nemesis Victor Daley. It seemed whatever story line Essie pursued, Mr. Daley came up with a similar one but achieved much greater success. If only she could think of an idea that would scoop his...

The woman’s face had grown even paler. “At least I have a child,” she murmured. “They won’t take a woman with a baby.”

“Either way—” Essie snapped her valise shut “—I won’t let them hurt you or your child.” Lowering her voice, she explained. “I have a derringer in my boot.” She wiggled her shoe for emphasis. Not that one gun would be a match against five, but at least it was something.

Her seatmate looked askance. “Whatever do you own a gun for? Do you know how to use it?”

Essie couldn’t help laughing, in spite of the tense situation. “Ma’am, I was raised on a ranch and now live on my own in a city. I know my way around a great many weapons. Now switch me seats.”

Speechless, the woman rose and sank into the vacated spot as Essie slid toward the aisle. Please watch over us, Lord, in this most unorthodox situation. Or could this be the Lord’s working in her life already? Maybe this was an answer to her prayer to help her write a more exciting tale than Mr. Daley. But would it be good enough to erase the troubled frown she’d seen on her publisher’s face during her recent visit to Ohio?

“Look, Miss Vanderfair,” he’d said, peering over the top of his glasses at her. “You have talent, more so than any other female whose work I’ve read. But we can’t afford to publish more of your stories. Not unless your next one can outsell the likes of Mr. Daley.”

The remembrance of those ominous words set her pulse kicking faster with dread than seeing the train robbers. She needed a new story that would be a guaranteed success—and soon. Otherwise she’d have to go back to the ranch and admit defeat. Wouldn’t her siblings crow over that one?

Just one little idea, Lord. That’s all I ask.

A train robbery wasn’t a bad place to start. The door to the passenger car opened with a clatter, she mused, composing in her head. She’d pen it down in her notebook later. The devastatingly handsome train robber stepped inside, his black gaze keen as it swept the passengers, finally alighting on the beautiful, demure heroine. Her heart beat wildly in her throat as their eyes locked. What did he—

Someone screamed, jerking Essie’s thoughts back to reality. A man stood in the doorway at the front of the car. But instead of the tall, handsome hero of her imagination, the man blocking the doorway stood at five feet tall and sported what must be a bulbous nose beneath his bandanna. Essie smirked. Real life was never as interesting as fiction.

“Sorry to keep ya, folks,” the man said in a tone that implied anything but regret. “We’ll get you movin’ on in a short lick. But for now, just sit tight while we work.”

“What does that mean?” an older woman across the aisle whispered loudly to her husband.

He glared at the robber. “It means they’re likely going to blow up the train’s safe.”

Several gasps followed the man’s pronouncement, but Essie let out a sigh of relief. If their focus was the safe then the robbers would probably leave the passengers alone. Essie patted the sleeve of her seatmate in reassurance. “We’ll be on our way soon.” If the conductor wasn’t harmed.

“Has any injury come to the train conductor?” she bravely asked the robber.

He chuckled. “The conductor and that guard’ll be right as rain once they come to. The Texas Titan don’t like roughin’ people up too much.”

The Texas Titan was here? On her train? Essie had read plenty of newspaper articles about the man and his legendary outlaw career. He usually worked alone, though. Why had he joined this gang? She wished she could ask him. An interview with a real-live outlaw, or five, would provide any novelist with a gold mine of research.

And give her a leg up on the competition.

Essie’s eyes widened at her own bold idea. The men weren’t likely to talk to her on the train, where she’d be slowing down their getaway. Would she be able to convince them to take her with them? More important, did she dare attempt such a harebrained scheme?

Her publisher’s dire prediction ran through her head again: “We can’t afford to publish more of your stories...”

But her next story was sure to be a success if she included firsthand accounts from these men.

“I’m going to do it,” she whispered to herself. She had her gun and the Texas Titan was known for his benevolent treatment of women and children. She’d be safe with him.

“I’m going to get off here,” she told the woman beside her. “But you and your baby will be fine.”

“You’re going to what?” The woman’s eyes bulged with shock.

Essie didn’t bother answering, afraid her seatmate would try to talk her out of her plan. Instead she shot to her feet and walked toward the robber manning the door.

“Excuse me, might I have a word?”

He blinked in confusion then scowled. “Get back to your seat, ma’am.”

“First, I have a request.”

“We ain’t gonna take no hostages, if that’s what you’re frettin’ about. So sit back down.” His hand rose to touch the Colt revolver sticking out of the holster at his waist. Essie fought a smile. A little distraction and his gun would be in her hand before he’d even noticed she’d moved. She’d learned that trick from a lawman while writing The Deputy’s Destiny. But she would only attempt it if necessary. She would try reasoning and friendliness first.

“Very kind about the hostages, but I’m in need of a different act of generosity.”

His bushy eyebrows rose. “I don’t know what you’re playin’ at...”

“I’m not playacting.” Essie sniffed. “I’m a writer.”

The man choked on a laugh. “A writer? What’s a woman doing writin’?”

She ignored the insult, though it echoed the question she’d been asked over and over again by well-meaning friends and family for the last three years. “I’ve decided I would like to go with you and your gang. For research purposes.”

“Research?” He scratched at his forehead beneath his cowboy hat. “What’re ya gonna research?”

“Your lives, your motivations, your goals.” She smiled fully, the last of her hesitation melting away. “I want to know why you do what you do and how you do it.”

He shook his head, his eyes clouding with confusion. “I gotta talk to Fletcher first. He’s the bo—”

A thunderous boom shook the car. Essie gripped the nearest seatback to stay upright as cries of horror split the air. Clearly, the robbers had blasted open the safe. The robbery was almost over. If she didn’t finish convincing one of these men to let her come along, they’d leave without her. And her chance to keep publishing would surely disappear with them.

“Nothin’ to fret about, folks,” the robber said, yelling over the chaos erupting inside the train car. “We’re nearly done.”

Hoping she might have more success speaking with a different robber, Essie took advantage of the man’s diverted attention and dashed through the door behind him. She hadn’t gotten more than a foot, though, when she crashed into a solid body exiting the opposite car.

“What are you doing out of your seat?” a deep voice growled in her ear.