Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [1]
Jack Dowling, of Houston, gave me lessons on how to climb a telephone pole back in the day. Imagine my shock when he informed me they didn’t use safety straps. Instead, they simply wrapped one leg around the pole to keep themselves in place. Crazy!
Diane Probst out of Rockport, Texas, gave me special attention during their annual Hummingbird Celebration, where thousands of hummingbirds stop in Rockport each September to fill up on sugar water before their six-hundred-mile overnight migration to South America. What a treat it was to see all those exquisite birds up close and personal.
With our antagonists being train robbers, I needed someone to tell me what a steam engine sounds and smells like when it idles. Lori Pennington and John Garbutt with the Texas State Railroad not only answered my questions, they sent me photos and an actual audio clip!
Amazing what a team effort a book is, isn’t it? And without these fine folks, Love on the Line wouldn’t have the historical depth and accuracy I so love to include. That said, any mistakes within these pages are indisputably mine.
Chapter One
“Everybody off the train.”
Jostled by other passengers, Georgie Gail raised her arms and shuffled past the man brandishing a gun. She strained her neck trying to obtain a closer look, but the aisle was too crowded.
No one said a word, even children sensing a need for silence. The press of bodies generated a touch of moisture beneath her brown wool traveling gown. A whiff of cinnamon from her homemade cologne water merged with the sweet perfumes and hair pomade of neighboring passengers.
At the door, two members of the Comer Gang stood on the ground flanking her exit. The February sun dipped behind the trees, blurring the sky with pinks and purples.
“Watch yer step, miss.” Like the desperado inside, a Stetson shaded his eyes while a neckerchief covered his face. Holding a gun in one hand, he lifted his other in assistance.
Swallowing, she slipped her gloved hand into his. He squeezed, helping her make the leap from car to ground.
“Thank you.” The automatic response was out before she could recall it.
“Ma’am. Hands up, now.”
She glanced at him and lifted her hands, but he’d already turned to help the next lady.
Is he Frank Comer? she wondered. He was certainly polite enough to be, but she’d expected someone taller. Broader. Larger than life.
The outside air cooled her skin, though the warmth of an impending Texas spring tempered its bite. A jangle of bridles pulled her attention to a group of horses a few yards away. A palomino the color of a newly minted gold coin snorted and swished its white tail.
She took a quick peek toward the front of the train but found no evidence of the conductor or engineer. A thread of smoke and steam wafted from the smokestack.
A member of the gang stepped forward and did a double take before directing her to a line where three outlaws held several dozen passengers at gunpoint. A young girl with brown braids bumped her from behind.
“Careful there,” Georgie whispered, reaching down to steady her. “Where’s your mother?”
“I lost her.” The girl’s lip trembled. “I lost my hat, too, and when Mama finds out she’ll give me a whupping.”
Squatting down, Georgie brushed a loose strand of hair from the girl’s face. “No, she won’t. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “She said if I lose another, I’m gonna be in big trouble. And that means a whupping.”
“What’s your name?”
“Rosella Platt.”
“Well, Rosella. I’m Miss Gail and I’m a telephone operator.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “You are?”
“I am. And when this is all over, I’ll help you find your mother. I’ll even—”
“Is there a problem, miss?”
Georgie lifted her gaze,