Reluctant Berserker: Isaacson Trilogy Book One

Chapter 6

The first several hours of the ten-hour train ride passed in a monotonous blur of brown grass, tumbleweeds, a sporadic lone tree, and dirt. Occasionally, Gunnar saw mountains in the distance with a clumping of aspens, cottonwoods, and Russian olive trees.

Billowy white clouds chased the sun across the sky until finally claiming their victory and blotting out its light. The ornate, hanging oil lamps within the elaborate passenger car could not dispel the oppressive dimness that set in.

Plush benches, wide enough to accommodate two moderately sized men shoulder to shoulder, were covered in tufted paisley burgundy velvet. For a man of Gunnar's size, they provided pinched comfort for the lengthy journey.

Intricately carved wood panels covered the walls, and thick gold damask curtains draped the windows along the entire length and sides of the cars.

An hour ago, when they had stopped at the last station before Buffalo Gulch, several new passengers had come on board, but few had disembarked. Twenty people now occupied their car, making the air oppressively warm and stuffy. Gunnar tried taking a nap but found sleep elusive. Two hours before their last stop, the small amount of food he had consumed sat like a lead weight in his stomach.

Ulric, his hat covering his face and legs crossed at the ankles and propped on the vacant seat near Gunnar's left hip, snored lightly on the bench across from Gunnar. Ten minutes ago, Esmund left to visit the men's lavatory before checking on their animals and was yet to return.

With a look at his pocket watch, he grimaced. Half-past seven, which meant there were at least three hours still to go before reaching their destination. What he wouldn't give for a diversion of some sort, anything that would keep his mind occupied instead of continuously wandering to thoughts of the woman from the platform.

Nora and her uncle sat two benches behind and to his right, where the uncle snored rather loudly while he slept in the seat facing her.

She spoke in low, dulcet tones, not meant to be heard by the other occupants of the train car. Her captivating voice was easily discernible to Gunnar's ears. She would no doubt be livid if she discovered he could hear every word she uttered. A smile bent his lips when she stopped mid-sentence once again and rephrased the words she had just spoken.

A droning hum of conversation filled the air, lending a hypnotic tone to the chug-a-chug rumble of the train. Cigar smoke tainted the air a hazy gray and made Gunnar's lungs burn. He removed his Stetson and caressed the brim, enjoying the buttery-smooth texture against his fingers.

"I feel—I believe that I—apologies are in order."

With measured slowness, Gunnar met Nora's gaze. She gripped her hands primly at her waist, her fingers tightly interlocked, and her shoulders rigid. She still wore her hat, and her traveling suit was slightly rumpled from sitting.

He ran a hand through his hair and watched her follow the movement before meeting his gaze again. She swallowed convulsively. A slow smile bent his lips as he placed his hat on his knee, motioning for her to sit in the vacant seat next to Ulric.

She nodded once, gracefully perching on the edge of the plush burgundy cushion. Delicately clearing her throat, she said, "It has been brought to my attention that I was rude to you and your brother earlier this afternoon. I wanted to apologize for any harsh words I may have said."

Gunnar studied her, knowing the answer to his question, when he asked, "How many times did you have to practice that little speech of yours before you could say the words without choking on them?"

It had taken her ten recitals. Gunnar had listened to her rehearse different variations for the past hour and a half, enjoying every attempt before settling on the one she had just delivered.