Come Spring by Jill Marie Landis

behind her. Thankfully there was not a cloud in sight.
    “A bargain is a bargain and I kept my end of it. I mailed you money for your ticket and here you are. Now”—he looked at her valise and writing box—“if this is all you have, I’ll carry them for you so we can get on our way.”
    When he reached for her valise, Annika grabbed it and hugged it close as if protecting it from his touch. “I’ll thank you not to touch my things, Mr. Scott.”
    She stared at him now, openly experiencing fear for the first time since this whole nightmare had begun. On close inspection he was not as wild as he appeared, but he was obviously sincere in his intent to force this Alice Soams to keep her end of the bargain. From the desperate way he was watching her, Annika knew that this impending marriage meant a lot to this man. She tried to see beyond the curling, shoulder-length hair, past the dirty buckskins and callused hands. He was still clutching his hat and the two letters, leaning forward so that the entire carload of passengers could not overhear what he had to say.
    He was not as old as his stubbled beard and sun-creased skin made him seem. She guessed he wasn’t quite thirty. His eyes were clear and blue, but they were the eyes of a much older man. Old eyes in a young face. Suddenly, Annika felt compelled to explain, without hurting him, that she was not Alice Soams.
    “I’m really sorry, Mr. Scott, but I’m afraid there’s been a terrible mistake. I don’t know where that letter came from, I really don’t. I’m not Alice Soams, although I am from Boston...”
    He leaned toward her.
    Buck reached out and gingerly traced the gold letters embroidered on her cape. “A S.” He arched a brow and shook his head. “Even your cloak gives you away. Am I that repulsive?”
    Annika stared down at the long finger pressing against the spot above her heart before she looked him square in the eye. “My name is Annika Storm,” she said slowly.
    He stared back, then his gaze moved over her face, her hair, her clothing. Annika could almost see the wheels of his mind at work. When he came to a decision, he abruptly stood. Then, without hesitation, he put the letters in his pocket, shoved on his hat, and then reached down. He grabbed her valise.
    “Are you coming, Miss Soams, or do I carry you off this train?”
    “If you so much as touch me, I’ll have you arrested.”
    “A bargain’s a bargain, Miss Soams.”
    “Will you stop saying that?”
    A man three rows back called out, “A bargain’s a bargain, just like the man says.”
    Suddenly everyone else felt compelled to chime in and offer their opinions.
    “Stick to your guns, mister!” a drummer in a bowler hat called out.
    A young cowhand shouted, “Come on, lady, go with him!”
    “Haul her out of here!” advised an old gent.
    “She shouldn’t ough’ta have to go if’n she don’t wanna,” a woman yelled from the back.
    Annika looked around and spied the conductor hovering near the door. She tried to appeal to him by shouting over the ruckus, “This is ridiculous! If you’ll just wait until we reach Cheyenne, I’m sure my brother can clear up this whole situation. Wait”—she reached for her writing box—“I know I must have something in here with my name on it.”
    Before she could open it, Buck leaned down and grabbed the box and shoved it under his arm. “We’ll take this, too.” He grasped Annika by the wrist and jerked her out of the seat.
    She tried to pull away, but he was so much bigger that she might just as well have been a dust mote fighting against a tornado. Before she could do more than struggle against his relentless grip, Annika found herself standing before the open doorway of the railroad car. The conductor stood outside watching them with a worried frown of indecision on his round face.
    “You can’t just stand there and let him do this!” she called to him.
    The conductor looked hopeless as he measured Buck Scott’s