Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [124]
“Comer’s going to rob the 4:53 to Houston.”
Her lips parted. “When?”
“Today.” He tossed the schematics on the desk, then headed to the back door.
“What are you going to do?”
He stopped, his hand on the knob. “I’m going to round up a posse. Lock your doors.”
Georgie resumed her position in front of the window, keeping watch over the fledglings. She’d been there all night and had dozed off until Necker’s shooting jerked her awake. Now, knowing Luke had no way to call for help from his Rangers, she was once again wide awake.
She racked her brain for a way to get word to his captain. She could ride to Industry at first light and use their switchboard, but with Brenham’s phone lines in the shape they were, the entire town would be in an uproar. Were she to leave during a crisis of this magnitude, SWT&T would be sure to dismiss her.
She supposed she could send Bettina, but it was an awfully long way for the little girl to go. In addition to the fact the switchboard was housed in a saloon.
Mrs. Patrick would have helped her, but she and her husband were in Jefferson visiting relatives. Georgie went through her list of acquaintances and customers. The men would most likely be helping Luke. The women either had children, were too old, too young, or had sympathies for Comer.
In the end, her thoughts circled back to Bettina. It wouldn’t be the first time the girl had gone to a bar. Heaven knew she’d had to haul her father home any number of times. And if she dressed like a boy, then perhaps no one would ever be the wiser.
She drummed her fingers. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. She jiggled her chair. Finally, she rose and placed a palm against her cool windowpane. “Sit tight, little ones. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
The von Schillers’ shack looked more like a horse shed than a house. Entire pieces of siding had splintered. The right side of the lean-to’s roof hung precariously from the eaves. And the porch had been torn completely off.
Georgie had no idea what to do. Should she knock on the door? What if Mr. von Schiller opened it? What if he didn’t? She couldn’t just walk in and start peeking under bedclothes.
She scanned the dark oblong windows, the gaping holes like yawning entrances to fathomless caves. If she knew which one belonged to Bettina, she’d throw rocks through it. But she didn’t, and she couldn’t risk guessing wrong.
In the end, she put her fingers in her mouth and did her cardinal call. The high-pitched sound pierced the air as loudly as a train whistle. She held her breath. After a few moments, she positioned her fingers in her mouth again, when a small silhouette raced around the corner.
Relief swept through her. “Over here,” she hissed.
“What’s happened?” The girl had either taken time to dress or she didn’t own a nightgown.
“I’ve just found out the 4:53 to Houston is going to be robbed today.”
Bettina’s eyes widened. “You gonna tell the sheriff?”
She shook her head. “He won’t do anything. Besides, we mustn’t tell anyone other than the Rangers. I tried to alert them by phone, but the lines all across town have been shot down by . . . by some pranksters.”
“Don’t ya think that’s a good thing? ’Cause it’s probably Comer who’s doin’ the holdup, and if word got to the Rangers, they might catch Comer unawares.”
Squatting down, she took the girl by the shoulders. “Listen, Bettina. You remember those men who broke into my home and burned up our hats?”
“Why, shore.”
“Well, we can never get those back. And that’s what Frank Comer does. He takes things which don’t belong to him and folks never get it back.”
The girl shook her head. “He takes stuff from trains and banks.”
“It’s not the banks’ money, though. Banks store money for their customers. The money belongs to those people. And trains cart money to business owners so they can pay the people who work for them. What if the money on today’s train belongs to SWT&T? If Mr. Comer robs it, then SWT&T won’t be able to pay us, will they?”
Bettina scratched her head. “Why would SWT&T put money on a train?