Ginny gasped, surprised she hadn't passed out from the sight.

"Looks pretty bad, huh?"Lindsay narrowed her eyes at the purple skin."Yuck."

"Bad?" Unconsciously she licked her lips."Are you blind?"

Confused, Lindsay blinked a few times. Her eyes seemed okay."What are you-?"

"Nothing," Ginny said quickly, snapping out of her reverie and thinking that perhaps she could use a bath herself. A nice cold one."Here," she extended the towel to Lindsay who only looked at it and then back up at Ginny.

"Umm... Could you?"

"I'm sorry," Ginny shook her head and chided her unruly thoughts."Of course."What's wrong with me? She's hurt and I'm drooling over her like one of the pigs from the rail yard. As carefully as she could, she set to work drying Lindsay, the task banishing all dark thoughts of finding Jacque and Jean and finishing what Lindsay had started. Outwardly, she did her best to maintain a detached air. To her heart, and most especially her body, the simple chore amounted to delicious torture. She was especially careful with Lindsay's ribs, frowning at the bruise and knowing how badly it must hurt.

Lindsay closed her eyes at Ginny's ministrations. They felt wonderful, making her feel not just well cared for, but cherished. She sighed. If I didn't feel like crap I'd never be able to keep from moaning at how fabulous her hands feel on me. Ginny gently dragged the towel down her back, lifting her hair and giving it a good squeeze before drying her neck. The towel moved lower, caressing the skin on her bottom before reaching her thighs.

Lindsay moaned. Okay, I was wrong.

Ginny grinned to herself at the sound. When she was finished, she drained the tub and tossed the towel and sheet from their bed into a laundry hamper, grabbing a fresh sheet for Lindsay to wrap up in.

"Thank you, Ginny."

"You're welcome. C'mon, let's get your hand taken care of and you in bed. You've got two days to rest up before we're catching a train out West. That's the next time we can duplicate the stops the orphan train made without losing too many days."She and Christian had spent the latter part of the afternoon on his phone with the station master, mapping out a schedule.

"Wonderful. I... um...I probably shouldn't hang around Queens or the entire State of New York for a while."She couldn't be sure that the police weren't looking for her.

"Mmm...probably not."Ginny couldn't help but smirk."And now it looks like we'll have money for two tickets."

"What? Tickets?" Lindsay exploded. She reached up to touch her split lip, which was stinging from her sudden outburst."Ouch."She tasted blood.

Ginny waggled her finger at Lindsay."Don't yell."

Lindsay made a face.

Ginny sighed."Or pout. Not that you can pout." She crossed her arms over her chest."We're buying two tickets and sitting with the other passengers. You are not jumping on and off trains."

"But-"

Ginny's glare silenced her. Lindsay gulped. "Fine."She wanted to say more, but she didn't dare. She did, however, roll her eyes in a last, rather pitiful show of defiance. If the guys at the tracks heard about this she'd never live it down.

"Let's go. Here," Ginny wrapped her arm around Lindsay's for balance."Yeah, that's it. Lean on me."

And so she did.

Chapter Nine.

"Well, here we are." Christian gave a tug on the reins, and the buggy carrying him, Ginny, and Lindsay rolled to a stop. Dozens of wagons were packed in around the station, crowding the street. Horses' hooves stamped, splashing in the icy mud as the beasts snorted in the cool, smoky morning. Several teams were clearly agitated by the throngs of New Yorkers determinedly pushing their way to and from the platform. Steam engines arriving and departing hissed loudly and their wheels screeched. Conductors, who controlled the crowds with whistles and booming voices, shouted out various train numbers and destinations, but even their voices were drowned out by the long wail of train whistles that sounded off regularly.

It was deafening.

Ginny grabbed their bag and allowed Christian to help her out of the buggy. The young woman was wearing men's clothing and a new cap they'd purchased the day before, the kind the paperboys wore. "Thank you," she said in a raised voice so that Christian could hear her.

He just smiled and offered his hand to Lindsay. When it became clear she couldn't take it, he moved forward and put his hands on her waist, helping absorb some of the shock as her feet hit the wooden boards that had been placed over the sidewalks so that people wouldn't have to wade through the deep mud. Two days of above freezing temperatures and the streets looked more like pigsties than roads. The stench of horse dung and mud filled the air.

"Thanks, Christian," Lindsay told him sincerely, a little embarrassed that she'd needed his help. Her ribs protested her every move but her fingers and the crookedly sewn cut on her knuckles had already begun to slowly heal. Her lip was no longer swollen and the cut had scabbed over, though the skin around it was still tender.

The trio stood awkwardly. They had become good friends in a short amount of time and this was good-bye. "Christian," Ginny began, not knowing quite what to say. "I can't ever repay your kindness. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

Christian flushed with pleasure. "You're welcome."

Feeling uncomfortable, Lindsay clasped Christian's shoulder and offered her own thank you before pushing her way up onto the platform and heading towards the ticket office. In her pocket was a list of the cities they needed to stop in.

Christian blinked, watching Lindsay hurry away. "Well, I didn't expect that."

Ginny sighed a little as Lindsay disappeared. "I don't think she's had a lot of friends, Christian. She doesn't know what to do."

"Ahh..." He wrapped his arm around Ginny's shoulder and led her to the corner of the station where they could talk without having to constantly move aside for passersby. "Saying goodbye is always hard, especially when you know you won't be seeing the people again."

A tiny crease appeared on Ginny's forehead. "You don't know that."

"Don't I? There's nothing here calling you back. I should imagine the lures of the West will capture both your fancies." His gaze drifted back to where Lindsay had been swallowed up by the crowd.

Ginny gave him a fond, somewhat sympathetic look. "She's easy to care for, isn't she?"

He shrugged one shoulder, acknowledging a simple truth. "You both are."

Before Ginny could answer Lindsay reappeared with two tickets. She looked a little lost, which for some reason Ginny found endearing. Here was a person who'd spent most of her life in boxcars and around train stations and who'd never ridden with the other ticketed passengers, even once. This was going to be an adventure.

Lindsay extended her hand to Christian and the man took it in his but didn't squeeze.

"Be safe, String Bean."

Lindsay nodded. "You too." Then, on a whim, she leaned forward and pressed her lips gently to his ear. "What you're doing with the children is more important than you know. If the world had more folks in it like you... well, it would be a better place is all."

A little self-consciously, she pulled away and stepped aside, so that Ginny could say good-bye.

The redhead boldly gave Christian a peck on the cheek. She pulled back and looked him dead in the eye with smiling but serious eyes. "Take care, Christian, and thank you again. I won't forget you."

With that, the women turned and arm in arm began weaving their way through the crowd.

Stunned, Christian lifted a hand to his cheek, feeling its flaming heat against his fingers. Just when he was certain he was falling for one woman, the other would do something sweet or interesting or funny and make him reconsider. He shook his head and chuckled as he walked to the buggy, admitting to himself that he simply couldn't choose and had been left with a hopeless crush on them both. "Timing," he muttered to himself, "timing, Christian, is everything. And yours stinks."

Jeremiah scrubbed his face and spoke through his hands. "This happened the night before last, you say?"

"Yes, sir. I couldn't believe it myself. It was too dark for me to see who did the shooting, but the dark-haired one they called String Bean was the only one who left the alley without a bullet in her. She went back to Christian's orphanage and didn't come out all day yesterday." What he didn't mention was that, after he'd heard the first gunshot, he'd been too frightened to get close enough to find out what had really happened in the alley.

"Bella, Bella, this is more serious than we suspected." He made a fist. "Not that I needed any more proof that the woman is unbalanced. I knew that sniveling twit, Christian Spence, had to be involved somehow. I can only imagine the behavior he and those two grown women engaged in at that rat-trap he calls an orphanage. Sickening!" Jeremiah Ward paced the floor in front of his wife, who was sitting behind the desk in their office. The Wards had been out of town the day before and this was the first time that Delano had had an opportunity to give them the shocking news.

"Both the young women are dangerous," Isabelle said needlessly, tapping the desk with a pencil. Steam rose from the small china cup in her other hand, sending the aroma of fresh coffee into the air. "Christian won't do a thing without proof."

"Yes!" Jeremiah agreed instantly, laying his palms on the desk as he leaned closer to his wife. "Much too dangerous to ignore." What if she comes back here after me? He'd thought gun-wielding women only existed in those ridiculous dime novels. "We must"

Isabelle silenced him with a raised hand. She casually turned to Delano. "And the man, the one you told us about earlier?" "Rat Face?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "If you say so. He said he knew her."

"He said a lot of things after I paid him a few coins."

A nod. "And what sort of man is this Rat Face? A friend of... String Bean's?" Just having to say these ridiculous names was making her angry. She set down her cup. Its base had a tiny chip in it and she frowned, turning the cup slightly so that only she could see the imperfection.

Delano's eyes narrowed as he thought back, wondering if he should repeat the coarse language in front of a woman. "He's a... he's a rough sort, ma'am, part criminal, part beggar. He cursed the woman many, many times and told me what he'd do if he ever saw her again. He's no friend of String Bean's."

"Interesting," Isabelle pointedly commented. She took a final sip and set the cup aside along with her pencil.

Jeremiah turned around and sat on the edge of the desk. He felt Isabelle's hand come to rest on his back, the comforting warmth of her palm seeping through his thin woolen vest and white cotton shirt.

The small woman stood and moved alongside her husband, leaving her hand where it was. Virginia Chisholm and this String Bean woman were a team. She had seen the subtle give-and-take between them when they'd confronted her and Jeremiah. It was something she understood quite well. Partnerships were about balance. Upset the balance and you upset the partnership, thereby weakening the team. Alone, String Bean had no business with them. Alone, how much of a problem would Virginia Chisholm really be? Let's find out. "Well then, Delano, perhaps if we... encouraged this Rat Face to find String Bean some of our problems would start to take care of themselves."

Jeremiah smiled. "That's an excellent idea." His pride was still smarting and the thought of some harm coming to the brash young woman who'd bested him in the eyes of his beloved filled him with a quiet satisfaction. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out two silver dollars. Then he moved around to his desk and unlocked the bottom drawer. He glanced up at Isabelle, who nodded. In the drawer was a locked cash box. It opened with a sharp click and he removed a crisp ten-dollar note from the bottom, idly wishing he hadn't had to reach through the few tattered singles above it. Business could always be better.

Delano's eyes widened slightly. He hoped he was being rewarded for his diligence. That was a weeks' pay that Mr. Ward was holding.

"Delano," Jeremiah ripped the bill neatly in half, ignoring the other man's shocked gasp, "perhaps this will encourage Rat Face to follow String Bean and... bring her to justice. You followed her and Virginia Chisholm this morning. It's clear they're going after the children. Even someone named Rat Face should be able to find them."

Rat Face had said over and over what he'd do to String Bean if he ever saw her again, though privately Delano didn't believe the man had enough nerve to follow through with his threats. "You want him to hurt her?" he asked casually, trying not to show how nervous just saying the words made him.

"Of course not!" Isabelle snapped, her eyes flashing. "We never said that. Never." Then she visibly calmed herself and smoothed the fabric on her dress. "We're doing nothing more than encouraging the victim of a robbery to reclaim his stolen property and inform the police of String Bean's whereabouts. You did say that he believed String Bean robbed him, correct?" She waited for him to dutifully nod. "But Jeremiah and I are realists and we do know that things... sometimes unfortunate things...happen."

"Yes, they do."

Jeremiah rolled the silver dollars around in his palm. "If Rat Face locates String Bean and she somehow ends up in jail, or otherwise incapacitated, he can come back here and collect this reward." He turned to his wife and reached out to stroke her cheek. "I consider it our civic duty to promote the hunting down of criminals, don't you, Bella?"

She leaned into the touch. "Absolutely, Jeremiah. And the fact that Miss Chisholm and the ever-pious Mr. Spence consort with people of such obvious ill-repute only serves to discredit them. Which is exactly what we need."

A contented chuckle escaped from the back of Jeremiah's throat.

Delano scowled. He thought he was sure what they wanted, but now... "Mr. Ward, I don't think that Rat Face will go anywhere near the police. I think once he finds her he'll"

"Enough," Isabelle warned him firmly, her eyes glinting with anger. Why did Jeremiah employ this idiot who clearly had no appreciation for the type of discretion required to carry out business in today's environment? She expected more from her husband. "I don't want to hear speculation, Delano. I don't want to know about things like that." She slowed her speech. "Ever. Do you understand?"

Delano nodded quickly, recognizing from the look on her face that he'd made a serious error. "Yes, ma'am." He stepped closer and glanced nervously at Mr. Ward, whose face was set in granite. "My apologies to the both of you."

"Then here." Reaching out, Jeremiah pressed the coins and half the bill into Delano's hand. "I expect Rat Face will be leaving immediately. The two dollars are for his expenses."

Delano looked at the money doubtfully. "But the cost of a ticket alone is"

"None of our concern," Isabelle interrupted. She strode across the room and opened the door, effectively dismissing him. "I believe you have someone to find, don't you?"

When the door slammed behind Delano, Isabelle whirled around and raised a sharp eyebrow at her husband.

He looked down at his shoes guiltily. Delano needed a lesson in discretion. A severe lesson. "I'll speak with him privately, Bella."

"See that you do," she said crisply as she moved back behind the desk. There was work to be done.

Lindsay shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The padded wooden bench was covered with a thickly napped red fabric and was barely big enough for her and Ginny. In fact, their thighs and shoulders were touching. That however, was not what was bothering Lindsay, who had decided if Ginny wanted to sit on her lap the entire trip that would be fine too. Problem was, the train was cramped and crowded. Several men in the back of the car were smoking cigars and the smoke wafted over them in great clouds. People were staring at the way she was dressed, and Lindsay realized for the first time why Ginny had chosen to dress in a similar fashion. Now they'll look at both of us and not just me, huh? Ginny, Ginny, what am I going to do with you? Her mind sighed contentedly, and her chest tightened with a surge of affection for her companion.

Ginny noticed the odd expression on Lindsay's face and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "What's the matter, my Bruised Tomato? Hurting today?"

A laugh bubbled up from deep inside and Lindsay shook her head, laying one of her bandaged hands on Ginny's knee, and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Bruised is right," she acknowledged wryly. "But otherwise I'm really good, Ginny." Better than you know.

"Good." Ginny's delighted grin showed off her dimples and she glanced down at Lindsay's hand, placing her own atop it. Her spirits were higher than they'd been in days. Lindsay was healing slowly but steadily, and though there hadn't been too much kissing, in deference to her friend's injuries, she couldn't resist giving her a few. They'd both grown slightly bolder and she found herself flushing just thinking about it. She tried not to do that too much, though. It was not only unbelievably distracting but still a little bewildering and scary. As if that wasn't enough to keep her mind spinning, they were finally on their way to find James, Lewis, and Jane. They'd already been through so much. She couldn't help but think that things could only get better from here.

The train whistle blew, drowning out the constant hum of conversation around them. A cloud of black smoke erupted from the smokestack and the train lurched forward.

The wooden cars squeaked with the steady movement of the wheels and Lindsay began looking around. The men in the seat directly across from her and Ginny were already asleep. She wondered idly if they knew just how easy it would be for her to lean over casually and remove them of the burden of their wallets. She snorted to herself, suspecting that they didn't.

Lindsay didn't like the way it smelled in here and felt an irrational jolt of anger at having to purchase a ticket when they could be traveling in an airy boxcar, stretched out on their backs with warm blankets as they watched the world go by. No one would be around to look down their noses at Ginny then. Of course, she didn't dwell on the fact that they'd have to take three times as many trains just to get where they were going and that she'd probably kill herself trying to get in and out of them. And there was always an element of danger. Many times you weren't alone in a boxcar. Still, the air in this car was a sickly combination of wet woolen clothing and leather shoes, sweat, cloying perfume, and food.

"Ugh." Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Is that fish I smell?" For breakfast? "Do you really want to know?"

"Good point."

Lindsay didn't move her hand from Ginny's knee for the next couple of hours. Even when it fell asleep.

They changed trains in Jersey City and settled into a second-class car, much like the first one they'd been in. A thin Negro man, dressed in a starched, navy-blue uniform with a black neck-tie, a leather-billed black hat, and the shiniest shoes Lindsay had ever seen, approached them with a hole-puncher in one hand and a pencil in the other. He politely asked to see their tickets and confirmed that they were, indeed, proper passengers on the Pennsylvania Railroad, train number 8704 to Washington, D.C., punching a tiny square next to the name of the city, before moving on to the next passenger. And the passenger after that....

Their next stop wouldn't be for four more hours and Ginny could tell that Lindsay was bored and anxious, still struggling with her unaccustomed role as a regular passenger. Her dark-haired friend was so used to hiding from railway employees that she visibly flinched every time one walked by.

This experience wasn't wholly new to Ginny. When they were little girls, while her father was still alive, she and Alice would take the train every summer to upstate New York and visit her father's parents. She considered those visits the sweetest, golden time of her childhood and she and Alice had recalled the fond memories often. But first her grandfather passed away, then her father the following year. When her grandmother died six months later, there was no one left to visit.

"Lindsay?" Ginny began, pulling herself out of her memories, "I've been thinking."

Lindsay perked up a little. Ginny's voice sounded serious. "Yeah?"

"We need a plan to fall back on if the family that has the children doesn't want to give them up. I was thinking we"

"Family?" A crease appeared in Lindsay's forehead. "You do realize that chances are they didn't all go to the same family? We could be dealing with three different families in three different cities."

Ginny stared at Lindsay for a second, the words not penetrating her brain. Finally she began to sputter. "Bu...bu" She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Why didn't I think of that before? Of all the stupid... When she opened her eyes again they glistened with unshed tears. "Who would do that?" she whispered harshly. "Who would split them up? The boys are twins, for God's sake, and Jane... she's only a baby, they're all she has!" Her voice rising as her emotions spilled over. In her mind she'd always allowed herself to be comforted by the fact that they at least had each other. Her guilt made her sick. What if they were truly all alone with strangers?

The outburst caused Lindsay to pull back, her eyes wide. Why was Ginny so upset over the obvious? Some of the passengers were staring, and she returned their glares hotly, daring them to continue to stare. "What are you lookin' at?" she growled at the gaping man in the seat across from them. He wasn't even pretending not to be listening avidly to their conversation.

The man blinked stupidly, unable to believe that one of the strange women dressed like men was addressing him at all. Then he stiffened in his chair and jerked his newspaper out of the leather satchel at his feet. He shook it open loudly and promptly blocked out the view, though Lindsay could hear him grumbling behind the business section.