Only My Love Read Free Page A

Still, a woman with hair like that, using it as a nest for pencils and pair of spectacles... it was sign of changing times for which he had no liking.
    Throughout the mostly one-sided exchange he had observed her slender back, narrow waist, and boyish hips and found nothing to suit his taste. Standing, he could see that she was taller than he had expected, but still average for a woman. She held herself as stiffly as she sat, her spine rigid, her frame unyielding. It was only when she turned to leave and he saw the full curve of her breasts, tautly defined above the notebook she held pressed to her midriff, that he thought she might be worth the time it would take to get past the brooch on her starched white shirt. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed the idea as ludicrous.
    Carl Franklin was the first to breach the silence following Mary Michael's exit. He was a gruff man, a score of years older than any man in the room, and angular in the extreme. He represented the majority stockholder in Northeast Rail Lines who was looking toward western expansion. His client was easily one of the richest, most influential men in the city, and Franklin spoke bluntly of what was on his mind. "I didn't know she was working here. What were you thinking when you hired her?"
    Still thinking of the notes he'd read, Logan didn't respond immediately. "Actually," he said at last, "it was my wife's idea."
    John Rivington was a government man, looking for a way to promote the western territories by getting eastern money to put down rails. Fresh out of college with a law degree, he was still wet behind the ears, anxious and eager to serve the newly appointed Secretary of the Interior. His sandy brown hair fell over his forehead, his smile was full and gleaming white, and he charmed women with his unaffected good looks. "I suppose it might be all right for a woman to be a secretary."
    Logan's smile was faint. "It might be," he allowed thoughtfully. "If that's what she wanted to be. But you see, gentlemen, Miss Dennehy is going to be one of this paper's very best reporters. She just doesn't realize I know it yet."
    Ethan Stone set down his coffee cup. He was the man who could make the dreams of Franklin's client and Rivington a reality, who, if he agreed to risk his life in their mad scheme, could probably get Logan Marshall to invest some capital as well. Leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his blue-gray eyes hinting at dry amusement, Ethan said, "Shall we attend to the business at hand?"

 
     
     
    Chapter 1

     
    Autumn 1875
    Engine No. 349 strained to pull its load up the curving path carved through the Rocky Mountains. The engineer called for more steam and the fireman obliged by shoveling furiously, feeding No. 349's seemingly insatiable appetite for coal. Clouds of black smoke poured from the main stack, drifted and dispersed in the air, and finally settled as a fine gray powder on the snow banks, on the tops of the cars and, filtering through the windows, on the clothes of the Union Pacific passengers.
    No. 349 carried 158 passengers, most of them day travelers who would ride only short distances in their second class cars. The discomforts of second class were relatively minor when compared to the difficulties of traversing the Rockies on pack mules and horseback, especially when snow came early to the mountains or never left at all. There were a few cowboys, farmers, and whole families among the way travelers, but the bulk of them were miners looking for some excitement in the next town or the one after that.
    Two third class cars on No. 349 carried through travelers, emigrants who had started their journey on the far side of the Atlantic. Taking the eastern rails west, they slowly made their way from New York or Philadelphia to Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, and St. Louis. The Union Pacific Railway would take over at Omaha, but instead of the four-day trip that a first class passenger could enjoy to Sacramento, the