The Outlaw's Secret. Stacy Henrie

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.

      “I’m sorry.” She clung to the railing to steady herself. “I’m trying to...”

      Her voice faded into silence as she lifted her chin and found herself peering into piercing blue eyes. She’d always been rather tall for a girl, and yet her head only came to this man’s nose. He wore a hat like his companion, but his bandanna had slipped off his face, allowing her a clear view of his chiseled features. Features she knew at once. This was the Texas Titan.

      She was already imagining the handsome train robber she would pattern after him for her new story, the one who would sweep the heroine into his arms and carry her away...

      Except he didn’t seem intent on carrying anyone away, let alone sweeping a woman into his arms. Instead he gripped Essie’s elbow, hard, and spun her back toward the door she’d burst through. “You need to return to your seat. Now!”

      Essie dug her heels in. “I’m afraid you don’t understand. I’m coming with you.”

      “What?” he choked out, his dark eyebrows arching.

      “Yes. I explained everything to your companion there...”

      “Clem,” he supplied, his firm expression unwavering.

      “Yes, Clem. And he said—”

      Clem hurried to join them, pulling his own bandanna away from his mouth. “Sorry, Tex. She wanted to talk to Fletcher.”

      “So you really are the Texas Titan?” Her cheeks heated when she heard the breathless awe in her voice.

      The Texan dropped her arm and gave a curt nod. “One and the same.”

      “Have you given up working alone?” No time like the present to get her first few questions in.

      His eyes narrowed as he scowled. “For the time being. Now, let’s get you back to your seat.” He resumed his clasp on her elbow.

      “But I’m not going back to my seat. As I said, I’m going with you.”

      “And I say you aren’t.” He maneuvered her past his troubled-looking partner. “This isn’t some parlor game, young lady,” he hissed. “All of these men are armed and dangerous.”

      She furrowed her brow, annoyed. As if she didn’t know who or what she was dealing with. “Including yourself?”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “You are also armed and dangerous, are you not? You said ‘these men’ as if you aren’t a part of them.”

      The Texan shook his head, annoyance rippling off him like heat waves. “I can’t waste any more of my time arguing with you. Will you please—”

      His entreaty disappeared beneath the commotion of approaching horses. The other three robbers rode up to the train, leading two riderless mounts behind them. “What’s the holdup?” one of them hollered. “We gotta go before that guard recovers.”

      Essie seized the opportunity. “Which of you gentlemen is called Fletcher?”

      “Who’s askin’?” The tallest of the three stared hard at her, his gray-blue eyes cold and calculating. She’d have to keep an extra watch on him.

      “I’m a writer,” she answered, drawing herself up to full height and maintaining her own level gaze. “I would like to interview you. All of you. I would like to immortalize your lives in fiction.”

      Fletcher gave a smirk. “Very flattering, lady, but we’re on a schedule.” He wheeled his horse around. “Clem? Tex? You comin’ or not?”

      “Wait.” She moved to the railing, her valise clutched tightly against her chest. “My name is Essie. Essie Vanderfair.”

      The name stopped the gang leader at once, as she’d known it would. “Vanderfair?” He looked her over with blatant interest. “You related to Henry Vanderfair? The railway tycoon?”

      Essie dipped a nod. “He’s