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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. Maam. Hands up, now. 9

Love on the Line

she glanced at him and lifted her hands, but hed already turned to help the next lady. Is he Frank Comer? she wondered. He was certainly polite enough to be, but shed 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. Wheres your mother? i lost her. the girls lip trembled. i lost my hat, too, and when Mama finds out shell give me a whupping. squatting down, Georgie brushed a loose strand of hair from the girls face. no, she wont. im sure shell understand. tears welled in her eyes. she said if i lose another, im gonna be in big trouble. and that means a whupping. Whats your name? Rosella Platt. Well, Rosella. im Miss Gail and im a telephone operator. the girls eyes widened. You are? i am. and when this is all over, ill help you find your mother. ill even is there a problem, miss? Georgie lifted her gaze, then slowly rose, her hands following suit. a dirty vest hung open on the masked, powerfully built man. His thick gun belt cinched tight-fitting trousers at his waist. Rosella lost her hat, she said. Well, now. He looked at the girl. i do believe there was a 10

Deeanne Gist

hat left behind on the train. Did it have a fetching brown ribbon wrapped around a straw crown? Yes, sir, Rosella breathed. it did. thatd probably be it, then. so dont you worry none. a full head taller than Georgie, he turned his attention to her. Might i have a look-see inside your reticule, miss? Blue. His eyes were definitely blue with thick brows above them. Lowering her arms, she slid her handbag to her wrist. shes a telephone operator, Rosella offered, her voice filled with awe. the man paused and looked again at Georgie. that a fact? You run a switchboard? i do. Where abouts? Washington County. Leaning back, he angled his head for a better view beneath her hat. Dont reckon ive ever met a real switchboard operator. then id say were even, sir. she slid her fingers into the mouth of her bag, loosening its strings. ive never met a real train robber. His eyes crinkled; then he peeked inside the reticule and gently pushed it back toward her. thank you, miss. But . . . dont you want the money? You on your own? i am. You earn that money telephone operatin? i did. Well, you go on and keep it, then. Her shoulders relaxed. thank you. My pleasure. He continued down the line, but instead of grabbing purses or yanking watches from their chains, he reassured an elderly woman, refusing her handbag and telling her to put her arms down. i reckon theyre awfully tired by now. a few steps later, he gave a thin, pallid youth a few coins hed taken from the express car. is that Frank Comer? Rosella whispered. the real Frank Comer? 11

Love on the Line

i believe it is, Georgie answered, excitement bubbling. He likes you. shushing the girl with her hand, Georgie willed away the heat springing to her cheeks and sliced another glance at the famous outlaw. Comer clapped a mans shoulder, said something to make them both laugh, then tensed and swung his gaze to the left. thats it, boys! Run for it! the gang members broke for their horses, their bags of loot banging against them as they ran. some leapt onto their animals; others tried to grab hold of their frightened mounts. From the opposite end of the train, a man on horseback burst from the forest. Get down! the command sailed above their heads and broached no argument. Like dominos, the passengers tumbled to the ground. Rosella kicked, trying to wriggle as close to Georgie as possible. shhh. Georgie squeezed her shoulder. Hold still. the men exchanged gunfire, and with each loud crack, Georgie jerked. the temptation to cover her ears was great, but she didnt dare. a woman close by screamed, setting off a chain reaction. Georgie felt as if she stood in a bell tower while every bell tolled. still, she wondered if some of the screams were coming from wounded members of the gang. she hoped not. Please, Lord, let Frank Comer and his men make it to safety. Like the rest of the states population, she closely followed the stories of Comers escapades and his continual benevolence toward the old, the infirm, and the poor. the man beside her shifted. Dirt puffed into her nose and mouth, grit sticking to her teeth. sputtering, she lifted her head just a mite and swiped a glove across her lips. a zing tore through the air, perilously close above her. Flattening herself back down, she ignored the awkward angle of her hat and its holding pin, which pressed against her scalp. instead, she absorbed the sound of hooves reverberating beneath 12

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her, amazed at how the earth trembled in response to the scrambling men and beasts. Rosella began to whimper. Curling up, Georgie pulled the child closer, murmuring words of comfort. as quickly as it started, the clash between the outlaws and the charging lawman ended. the tremors, the gunshots, the shouts . . . all replaced with stillness. Georgie remained frozen on the ground. Rhythmic hisses of steam escaped the trains cylinders. the smell of coal and oil mixed with gunpowder. Before long her head began to throb where the hatpin pressed. a rock beneath her skirts gouged her hip. the top of her left foot itched within her boot. and dirt continued to tickle her nose. Can we get up? Rosella whispered. But the men were already rising and assisting women and children to their feet. Rosella! a woman cried. Mama! Rosella scrambled upright. i didnt lose my hat; its still on the train. the mothers response was lost to Georgie as the woman hugged her daughter and moved away, talking excitedly. its okay, miss. You can get up now. a fellow passenger extended a large, beefy hand into Georgies line of vision. she tried to use it for leverage, but her skirts had been hopelessly tangled by Rosella and she couldnt rise. Beg your pardon, miss. Grasping her waist, he swung her up, plunking her to her feet. she swallowed a cry of surprise. thank you, sir. even with his hat, he was an inch or two shorter than she and quite stout. there now, no need to be frightened. Looks like one o them texas Rangers got wind of Comers plans and hightailed it this way. shaking her skirts, she glanced toward the engine car at the front of the train. the engineer stood toe to toe with a man whose features she couldnt make out, particularly with the sun now having set and twilight fully upon them. But she could see his silhouette. tall. Broad. Muscular. and cocky. 13

Love on the Line

Where is everybody? the engineers voice shook with anger. they stole everything out of the safe, then emptied the passenger cars, and now Comers long gone. You fellas were supposed to be patrolling this whole area. We were. We are. Were spread out all along this route and have been for weeks. spread out? the engineer screeched, arms waving. You mean one by one? You arent gathered in large groups? Course not. are you crazy? that was the Comer Gang. You could have gotten us all killed. Georgie frowned. Comer wasnt a killer. He was a . . . a kindhearted thief who, according to the papers, helped more people than he harmed. the Rangers chest bowed out. Listen, old-timer. One Rangers all you need. You only had one train being robbed, didnt you? Georgie lifted a brow. it might take only one Ranger to make the Comer Gang scatter, but itd take a great deal more to bring in its members. With a sense of self-satisfaction, she glanced toward the woods, then froze. a half dozen bandits lay hog-tied together on the ground. Her breath stuck in her throat. One Ranger did all that? she scanned the kerchiefed men but could barely make them out in the fading light. still, from what the engineer said, Comer wasnt among them. Maybe one Ranger would be enough. the engineer leaned forward. so long as that Ranger wasnt you. seems Comer gives you the slip ever time. the way i see it, you have about as much chance catching Comer as a jackrabbit at a coyote convention. Bunching his fists, the Ranger tensed, then turned and strode toward the passengers. Must be Lucious Landrum, the stout man in front of her whispered to his wife. Hes been after Comer for almost a year now. and look at the way hes dressed, all spiffy-like. Georgie eyed the Ranger, unable to determine what he was 14

Deeanne Gist

wearing in this light, much less the clothings quality. all she could see was a cowboy hat, a vest, and a gun belt with two holsters. LOO-she-us, his wife replied, drawing out the syllables. such a strange name. and look at his beard. i thought he wore a big, bushy mustache. normally he does. But you heard him; hes been on the trail for weeks. the Ranger stopped several yards away and questioned two men at the front of the line. a woman in a black mourning gown began to quietly sob. Well know soon enough. the portly man lowered his voice even more. if his guns have bone handles carved with a boy on the right pistol and a girl on the leftclosest to his heartthen its Landrum. the conductor emerged from the train with a lantern and walked it over to the Ranger, who moved within a few feet of Georgie. the light revealed a fine white stetson. a big bushy beard. an olive shirt. a black string tie. and a gun belt strapped about his hips. a massive emblem buckle made of gold and silver held it together. she squinted, but couldnt make out the handles of his pistols. and you didnt see anything? Landrum asked the short man and his wife. Hear anything? nothing at all? Well, they kept saying, Hands up, the wife offered. Landrum rubbed his eyes. Between the shadow from his hat and the full beard, his face was every bit as hard to discern as the outlaws. any distinguishing features, maam? a disfigured eye, a scar? anything at all would be helpful. the couple looked at each other, as if it would help them remember something profound. But Georgie knew the Ranger was wasting his time. Frank Comer was nothing short of a legend in texas. He rode fast horses, robbed trains, outwitted the law, and spread his newfound wealth wherever he went. Georgie had no doubt the man could knock on any door in the state and be welcomed, fed, and harbored. no. the passengers on this train would become celebrities in 15

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their own right and would carry tales of Comer for many months to come. the weeping woman refused to be consoled, her hysterics gaining momentum, her sobs sounding like a saw rasping through wood. Landrum looked her direction. is she hurt or just scared? the gruffness of his voice whipped Georgie up to her full height. she opened her mouth to defend the woman, but the widow herself answered him. neither, sir. im overcome with gratitude. When Mr. Comer found out i was on my way to my childhood home after burying Henry and losing everything, he gave me this. she opened a gloved hand to reveal a handful of gold coins. He took my gun, a man farther down shouted, but then he emptied it and gave it right back. He signed my dime novel. a boy with a bow tie and short pants held up his pulp fiction pamphlet. Georgie had seen him reading it earlier on the train. its cover held a colorful illustration of a masked man with kindly eyes. thick block letters across the top read, the Legend of FRanK COMeR. Ranger Landrum moved his attention back to the widow. that money belongs to the texas & Pacific, maam. im going to have to ask you to turn it over. the widow pulled back, then narrowed her eyes, loosened her collar, and dropped the coins right down her bodice. Landrum took a step forward. You oughtnt have done that, maam. Readjusting her collar, she held the Rangers gaze. im rather fatigued, sir. if youll excuse me, i believe ill return to my seat on the train. the woman sailed past him, daring him to stop her, her skirts swishing with each step. Georgie bit her cheeks. any cooperation Landrum might have received had vanished the moment he challenged the widow. and she had a feeling he knew it. His fierce gaze moved to the boy with the dime novel. 16

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no! the little fellow screamed, throwing himself into his mothers arms. swooping him up and hugging him tight, she followed the same path as the widow. the rest of the passengers did the same, all giving a wide berth to texas Ranger Lucious Landrum.

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