Bay City Belle. Shirley Kennedy

good guess. The Wells Fargo express car sits back of the tender. It’s got a safe that I know for a fact is carrying a big load of cash meant for payrolls up around the Sweetwater mines. I’d wager that’s what they’re after.”

      A panicked woman declared, “Then Wells Fargo needs to give them the cash so they’ll let us go.”

      “I agree that would be the simplest solution. The trouble is, Wells Fargo keeps those doors to the express car locked tight on both ends. I can’t get in there, and neither can anyone else. It’s up to the men inside. If they’re scared enough, or get tricked, they’ll let the bandits in. If someone gets brave, they’ll refuse to unlock the doors, and we could have a standoff for hours. I doubt it’ll last that long, though. From what I’ve seen of these train robbers, they get impatient. That’s when bullets start to fly.”

      Another passenger spoke up. “What if Wells Fargo lets them in? Will the bandits take the money and go, or will they rob us, too?”

      Mr. Parkhurst took a long moment to ponder. “From what I’ve seen so far, this looks like the work of the Cooper Brothers Gang. Can’t say for sure, though. If it’s the Coopers, they’ve been known to go through the train and rob the passengers.”

      “What’ll we do?” a woman wailed.

      “Calm yourself, madam. Some try to hide their valuables, some don’t. Whatever you decide, the best advice I can give you is if they come through the car, don’t argue with them. If any of you men are carrying guns, and I’m guessing some of you are, don’t think you’re going to make a hero of yourself by taking on one of the most ruthless gangs in the region. Hide your guns. Jasper Cooper himself is wanted for murder in three states, so you don’t want to tangle with him. He’s got nothing to lose and would just as soon kill you as look at you.”

      A babble of frightened voices broke out. After admonishing them all to remain calm and think over what he said, the conductor returned to the car ahead. Belle turned to her seatmate. The older woman’s face had turned deadly pale. “They’re going to take my jewelry,” she cried.

      “No, they won’t.” Belle made sure she sounded more confident than she felt. “Like the conductor said, there’s a good chance they’ll just take the Wells Fargo money and go.”

      “But what if they want my pearls, my emerald earbobs? Oh, no, not my butterfly pin! I’ll die before I give it up.” Mrs. Hollister reached for the pin and tried to remove it, but her hands shook so much she couldn’t manage.

      “Here, let me do it.” Belle reached to undo the pin. What a shame this woman placed such a high value on her jewelry. Didn’t she realize her life was in jeopardy? Still, this wasn’t a good time for a discussion on what one should value in life. She would do what she could to help. While she unfastened the butterfly pin and unhooked the string of pearls, her seatmate frantically stripped off her rings and removed the emerald and diamond earbobs. Soon a glittering pile of jewels from Tiffany’s lay in her lap. “What do you think is a good hiding place?” Mrs. Hollister asked.

      “I really don’t know.”

      “Think! You’ve got to help me.”

      Belle was sorely tempted to say she couldn’t help, and furthermore, why should she be responsible for someone else’s jewelry? But somehow she couldn’t. The poor woman looked so distraught over her jewels, she might break into a full-blown case of hysterics at any moment. “I could put them in my handbag, I suppose.”

      “No! That would be the first place they’d look.”

      “Well, then, there’s my valise under the seat, but they’d probably look there, too.” Belle peered up and down the aisle. Some women were removing their jewelry, but not all. The firm-jawed, middle-aged lady across the aisle had left her necklace and rings in place. “Let them have what they want,” she called. “It’s not worth my life.”

      Belle agreed. Her own jewelry couldn’t begin to match the magnificence of her seatmate’s, yet she treasured her gold locket that contained a strand of her mother’s hair, and her gold ring with a small diamond that her father gave her when she was a little girl. She wouldn’t hide them, though. Let the robbers take what they wanted and be gone.

      Mrs. Hollister regarded her with accusing eyes. “So where are you going to hide them?”

      Think, Belle, think! Not her handbag, not her valise, but somewhere on her person where the bandits wouldn’t look. Ah! The perfect hiding place. She looked around to make sure no gentleman was watching and unbuttoned the top few buttons of her jacket. She picked up the butterfly pin and thrust it down the front of her blouse, not stopping until she found the warm space formed between her breasts and the top of her corset. She let go of the pin. As she hoped, it nestled safely within the confines of her secret hiding spot. This wouldn’t be the first time. She’d used this place before, mainly for handkerchiefs but more than once for a note from an admirer, back in that long-ago time when she’d been the belle of the ball. But she’d certainly never used it for anything like this. She heard a gasp.

      Her seatmate looked askance. “Miss Ainsworth! What are you doing?”

      “What does it look like I’m doing? Can you think of a better place?” She scooped up the remaining jewels from her lap and quickly tucked them beside the pin. Giving them a pat, she remarked, “They fit.” She re-buttoned her jacket and looked down. No bulge, no nothing. “See? The perfect spot. They’ll never know.”

      Mrs. Hollister could only sputter.

      Belle patted her arm. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right, you’ll see.” Suddenly she remembered the two hundred dollars from Bridger she’d tucked in a side pocket of her valise. Good grief! That would be the first place they’d look. She leaped to her feet, grabbed up the valise, and pulled out the money. “Look the other way, Mrs. Hollister.” She yanked up her skirt and thrust the bills into her bloomers, clear down to where one leg gathered just below her left knee. She smoothed her skirt and sat down again. When Mrs. Hollister gave her a wide-eyed stare, Belle simply said, “It’s the safest place I could think of.”