Hero Of The Flint Hills. Cassandra Austin

age and looked very much alike. One clasped her hand over her mouth to quiet herself while the other craned her neck to look over the back of her seat. Their parents, Lynnette guessed, sat behind them with two younger children. The adults gave the girl reproving frowns.

      Lynnette smiled to herself. How early the spontaneous pleasures of youth were stifled by. convention. She had very few memories of that kind of gaiety from her own youth. She felt a vague sense of loss but dismissed it as grief over her father’s death.

      The girl who had turned to gauge their parents’ reactions settled back into her seat. Her sister leaned toward her and drew a small book from beneath her skirts. They put their heads together and returned to their reading, but not before Lynnette got a glimpse of the cover.

      Lynnette started in surprise. She glanced toward Emily to see if she had seen it too. The girl slept peacefully and Lynnette sighed in relief, then wanted to laugh at herself. There was nothing on that dark red cover that anyone would connect with her.

      She leaned her head against the seat and tried again to rest. Passion’s Secret had been so much fun to write and such delicious revenge on an editor who had ignored all her other stories. She wasn’t ashamed of the story; it was just that no one would understand. She wasn’t prepared for the public censure that would result if her authorship of the story became common knowledge. And so far no one knew, not even Julian Taggart.

      Thinking of Julian made her skin crawl. He had seemed nice enough when she first met him. When she had caught him reading through some story notes in her parlor, she had told herself she should be glad he took an interest in her writing, but it bothered her that he hadn’t felt he needed permission. When she decided she no longer wanted to see him, she discovered how possessive he could be. Little things that were hard to describe made her wonder if the man was unstable. She was certainly happy to be away from him.

      Lynnette forced herself to relax. She should put Julian out of her mind and rest. She had a long day of travel ahead of her. She closed her eyes, but the train stopped every twenty minutes or so and the conductor’s calls made sleep impossible. After an hour, she found the book she had packed in her valise and lost herself in it.

      Emily alternated between sleep and chatter. At noon she found the lunches her housekeeper had packed for them. Lynnette wasn’t particularly hungry, but Emily managed to eat her meal and talk at the same time.

      “We’re still a couple of hours from Cottonwood Station,” she told Lynnette as she packed away the remains of her lunch. She settled back for another nap.

      Lynnette tried again to rest, but never gave in to more than a light sleep, fearful of missing their stop. She needn’t have worried. Emily roused herself, stretched and began collecting her bags a moment before the conductor called for Cottonwood Station.

      “You’re quite an alarm clock,” Lynnette said, gathering her own things.

      “I’ve done this so often I think I know every curve in the tracks.”

      Lynnette led the way into the aisle with Emily right behind. They were nearly to the end of the car when Emily turned back. “I’m missing my hat!”

      “Shall I help you find it?” Lynnette tried to turn too, but a man had entered the aisle behind her and seemed reluctant to let her pass.

      “No, I’ll just be a minute,” the girl called.

      Lynnette stepped into the sunlight and got her first look at Cottonwood Station. She knew the town of Cottonwood Falls was across the river, but perhaps there would be a chance to explore it later.

      The porter gave her only a second to study her surroundings before he reached to help her with her bags, tossing them unceremoniously on the platform below. Lynnette thanked him as he helped her down the narrow steps.

      Out of the way of other passengers, Lynnette took a better look around. Surely this was a place full of stories. A couple with three small, quiet children and a pile of luggage waited for their turn to climb aboard. A young woman in provocative finery watched the passengers disembark. Was she waiting for someone in particular or for a potential customer? An elderly man in a top hat leaned on a cane, ignoring a woman’s chatter. His wife?

      As Lynnette’s eyes roved the area, they lit on the most interesting person of all. A young man with blond hair to his shoulders lounged against an open wagon. His long slender legs and hips were encased in dusty denim. His blue shirt was open at the throat, its sleeves rolled nearly to his elbows. He thrust his hands into his pockets, pulling the black suspenders taut. His chest and shoulders looked far more muscular than the men’s she saw in the city. Were theirs simply hidden by their dress jackets?

      She felt the curl of excitement in her stomach that meant she smelled a story. My, but he was interesting, she thought, then realized he was watching her just as intently. She turned away, but not before she noticed that his expression was more than slightly unpleasant. She glanced at the train and considered going back after Emily, but realized it had only been a couple of minutes since she had disembarked and there was still a steady stream of travelers exiting the car.

      What could she represent that would make the young man scowl at her? Sure, her dress was slightly out of style and well-worn, but it was tasteful and clean, or had been this morning. It must have been her imagination. She looked back at him to see. No, he was scowling. Well, frowning at least. His hat was pulled down too far to see his brows so she couldn’t say be was actually scowling.

      But I’m definitely staring. She turned away but movement brought her eyes back again. He straightened, pulled his hands from his pockets, and broke into a dimpled smile. Lynnette was astounded. It was several seconds before she could turn to see what had caught his attention.

      Emily, overloaded with bags, had emerged from the car, her hat held precariously between two fingers. Lynnette hurried to help the porter lighten her load. Emily suddenly seemed like a vulnerable child. That strange man looked at her as if he wanted to devour her. Lynnette considered asking the porter to stay with them until Arlen arrived.

      When Emily jumped to the platform, Lynnette drew her close, keeping herself between Emily and the stranger. “That man,” she started, giving the barest nod in his direction.

      Emily leaned around Lynnette, then squealed. “Christian!”

      Emily flew across the platform, down the steps and into Christian’s open arms. He lifted her off the ground as if she were a small child and spun her around. The wind finished what the nap had started, and Emily’s hair fell down her back. Christian’s hat hit the ground and for a moment their faces were blurred by straight blond hair and dark brown curls.

      Lynnette was too stunned to follow. She stood beside their collection of bags watching the brother and sister. It had never occurred to her that family would actually greet each other this way. She had expected a warm smile, a handshake, perhaps a kiss on the cheek. She was envious.

      Christian finally let the girl go, and they walked together toward her. They still had their arms around each other, and Lynnette wondered how his long legs kept from becoming entangled in Emily’s flowing skirts.

      “Lynnette,” Emily said when they reached her. “This is my brother, Christian. Christian, meet Miss Lynnette Sterling.”

      “Hey! Good job, Muffin,” Christian said, unwrapping his arm from his sister’s shoulder to stretch it out toward Lynnette. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Lynnette Sterling.”

      Lynnette took the hand, hoping her face no longer registered her surprise. “How do you do,” she murmured. She couldn’t quite forget that this same man had been scowling at her only moments before. Frowning at least. It seemed a little hard to believe now, he was so obviously happy.

      She realized they had both looked at each other a little too long, measuring, she decided. She pulled her hand free and reached for one of the bags.

      “Mama said to give you an extra hug for her.”

      A hesitant quality in the girl’s voice made Lynnette straighten to see his reaction. For