The Nanny Solution. Barbara Phinney

take at least a day to clear the debris.”

      A murmur of disappointment rolled through the crowd.

      “As soon as possible, we’ll let you know when we are able to get under way again. The train may move ahead, but only onto another line. Please don’t go anywhere until we know more.”

      “You want us to just stand here like idiots?” one man shouted out from the group by the stairs. Others who’d wandered down from the men-only car began to grouse, their voices raised in cacophony.

      The conductor held up his hand to ease the discord. “Of course not, sir. We’ll have a better idea of how long our delay will be as soon as we see what equipment this town has.”

      Immediately, the conductor was assaulted with questions. Mitch led Victoria and the children out of earshot, to the short side of the depot’s main building. “It looks like we’ll get more fresh air than we planned, but I’ll still go ahead and purchase some food.”

      “When were we supposed to arrive in Proud Bend?”

      “Tuesday morning. I had scheduled it all out, even chose this route because of its speed. But now, I can’t say.” He didn’t want this delay. He had a ranch to run, and needed to brand the heifers he planned to keep. Several other ranchers had been interested in purchasing the rest of them. He needed that quick infusion of cash to pay his quarterly mortgage installment or that bank manager would be using the default as an excuse to force Mitch to sell him his mineral rights.

      Victoria glanced over at the crowd. “I need to send a telegram to my uncle to tell him of this delay.”

      She wasn’t traveling to a beau? His heart took a treacherous leap. Determined to ignore it, he answered, “Fine. I’ll do it. What is his name?”

      In answer, Victoria opened her small drawstring purse and pulled out a folded paper. “Here’s the telegram he sent my mother. All the information is on it.”

      Mitch took it and unfolded it. The name at the top was as clear as if she’d spoken it aloud. Walter Smith.

      His stomach turned. That cad of a bank manager and Victoria’s uncle were one and the same man.