hand.
“Hi,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Daniel placed her arm around his and led her back into place with the others. Sara’s eyes shone as they smiled at each other.
Amy allowed herself a moment to feel happy for her friend. Sara was obviously delighted and Daniel looked like a good man. Saying a silent prayer for their happiness, she took another step back, glancing at the ticket office. She heard the pastor say Josephine Carter’s name, introducing her to a Gabriel Silversmith, but she didn’t wait to see what happened. Stepping behind a family gathered nearby, she looked for a way to sneak off without being seen.
“And finally, Amy Watts.”
Amy froze.
“Amy Watts?”
Don’t look , she told herself. Just go. Don’t look back .
“Amy?” Sara called.
The area around her was emptying. She had to go now, while she still had the chance.
She heard confused voices. The family she was hiding behind began to move.
Run!
She turned to flee, not looking where she was going, and collided with an arm clad in a black jacket sleeve. She looked up. The arm was attached to a man dressed in a black suit who was staring behind her. He glanced down at Amy, a line forming between his close set eyes and his lips pursing beneath his thin moustache.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, stepping back.
“Amy, there you are!” she heard Sara call.
Screaming at herself not to, she slowly turned towards the group of people she was trying to escape.
Beside Pastor Jones, a young man stood looking around him, twisting his hat nervously in his hands. He was tall and wore a grey suit and shiny black shoes, unlike the other men who were all dressed in plaid shirts and wool trousers and boots. His clean-shaven face was handsome, framed by gently curling dark brown hair down to his collar. He was the complete opposite of what she’d imagined. He looked kind. And utterly terrified.
Guilt pierced Amy’s soul. She couldn’t do this, not to him, not to anyone. It was a despicable thing to do to another human being. She wished, not for the first time, that her heart was harder.
Cursing herself for looking when she knew she should have run, she threw one last, longing glance at the ticket office and then walked towards the little crowd of people. She would just talk to him, explain, come to an arrangement.
It would work out somehow. She would think of something. She’d come this far, she’d escaped. She could do it again.
Reaching Pastor Jones and the young man, she pushed her hat from her head and let it hang behind her on its thong.
The pastor let out a sigh of relief. “There you are,” he said, smiling. “Amy Watts, may I present Adam Emerson.”
Adam stared at her with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, his gaze travelling from her sandy blonde hair caught up in a loose braid, down past her beige shirt and brown linen jacket, to her brown trousers and brown leather shoes. Amy swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She’d dressed for the possibility of having to ride, not meeting someone she was supposed to marry. She glanced at the other women with their fancy dresses and ribbons in their hair, thinking how strange she must look. And how much of a disappointment she must be to the man who thought he was meeting his wife today.
Except, she hadn’t intended to meet him at all. She should have been buying a ticket for the remainder of the journey to San Francisco and getting back on the train by now. Or, failing that, finding the nearest livery to buy a horse to ride there.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and held out her hand. At least this way, when she explained how she wasn’t going to marry him, he might at least be a little relieved.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Emerson,” she said.
He looked back at her face, a bemused expression lingering on his features. “Uh, yes,” he said. He took her hand and shook it. “Pleasure to meet you too, Miss Watts.” He smiled
“Hi,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Daniel placed her arm around his and led her back into place with the others. Sara’s eyes shone as they smiled at each other.
Amy allowed herself a moment to feel happy for her friend. Sara was obviously delighted and Daniel looked like a good man. Saying a silent prayer for their happiness, she took another step back, glancing at the ticket office. She heard the pastor say Josephine Carter’s name, introducing her to a Gabriel Silversmith, but she didn’t wait to see what happened. Stepping behind a family gathered nearby, she looked for a way to sneak off without being seen.
“And finally, Amy Watts.”
Amy froze.
“Amy Watts?”
Don’t look , she told herself. Just go. Don’t look back .
“Amy?” Sara called.
The area around her was emptying. She had to go now, while she still had the chance.
She heard confused voices. The family she was hiding behind began to move.
Run!
She turned to flee, not looking where she was going, and collided with an arm clad in a black jacket sleeve. She looked up. The arm was attached to a man dressed in a black suit who was staring behind her. He glanced down at Amy, a line forming between his close set eyes and his lips pursing beneath his thin moustache.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, stepping back.
“Amy, there you are!” she heard Sara call.
Screaming at herself not to, she slowly turned towards the group of people she was trying to escape.
Beside Pastor Jones, a young man stood looking around him, twisting his hat nervously in his hands. He was tall and wore a grey suit and shiny black shoes, unlike the other men who were all dressed in plaid shirts and wool trousers and boots. His clean-shaven face was handsome, framed by gently curling dark brown hair down to his collar. He was the complete opposite of what she’d imagined. He looked kind. And utterly terrified.
Guilt pierced Amy’s soul. She couldn’t do this, not to him, not to anyone. It was a despicable thing to do to another human being. She wished, not for the first time, that her heart was harder.
Cursing herself for looking when she knew she should have run, she threw one last, longing glance at the ticket office and then walked towards the little crowd of people. She would just talk to him, explain, come to an arrangement.
It would work out somehow. She would think of something. She’d come this far, she’d escaped. She could do it again.
Reaching Pastor Jones and the young man, she pushed her hat from her head and let it hang behind her on its thong.
The pastor let out a sigh of relief. “There you are,” he said, smiling. “Amy Watts, may I present Adam Emerson.”
Adam stared at her with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, his gaze travelling from her sandy blonde hair caught up in a loose braid, down past her beige shirt and brown linen jacket, to her brown trousers and brown leather shoes. Amy swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She’d dressed for the possibility of having to ride, not meeting someone she was supposed to marry. She glanced at the other women with their fancy dresses and ribbons in their hair, thinking how strange she must look. And how much of a disappointment she must be to the man who thought he was meeting his wife today.
Except, she hadn’t intended to meet him at all. She should have been buying a ticket for the remainder of the journey to San Francisco and getting back on the train by now. Or, failing that, finding the nearest livery to buy a horse to ride there.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and held out her hand. At least this way, when she explained how she wasn’t going to marry him, he might at least be a little relieved.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Emerson,” she said.
He looked back at her face, a bemused expression lingering on his features. “Uh, yes,” he said. He took her hand and shook it. “Pleasure to meet you too, Miss Watts.” He smiled
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