Breakfast with a Cowboy by Vanessa Devereaux Page A

ticket to him.
    The cab stopped and he opened his eyes, thinking they
were stuck in another traffic jam, but he was more than relieved to see the
sign for the station hovering above them.
    He rummaged through his bag, pulled out some money,
and handed it to the driver.
    “Keep the change.”
    “Thanks, and you need help with your stuff?”
    “Nope, but thanks for offering.”
    “Have a good trip.”
    Quinn got out and slung his bag over his shoulder
and the zip round bag containing his one and only best suit, over his arm. He
sprinted into the station but realized he might be too late.
    “Has the train for Montana left yet?” he called out
to a woman sweeping the floor.
    “Nope, heard it’s been delayed.”
    Seems it was his lucky day after all. He ran onto
the platform, saw the train still there, and made a mad dash, almost dropping
the bag containing his suit on the way, toward it. He got onboard and now all
he had to do was find his seat. He’d take a nice long siesta and hopefully
wouldn’t get disturbed by anyone or anything until he got to Whitefish.
    He walked up and down a few of the corridors, completely
lost, but finally saw a lady in a blue and red uniform.
    “Excuse, me ma’am, could you tell me where I’d find
this compartment?” He turned his ticket around to show her.
    “You’re close. If you follow me, I’ll take you right
to it.”
    He followed her along the next corridor, and sure
enough there it was.
    “Here’s a map of everything on the train.
Observation deck is down this way to your right and the restaurant is beyond
that, and then the bar is this way,” she said pointing to her left.
    Alcohol was the last thing he needed, but maybe a
glass of wine would help him sleep even better.
    “Thanks for your help.”
    “Have a good trip. And we’re here to help so just
holler.”
    Quinn stepped inside the compartment, placed his bag
on the seat, hung up his suit, and then sat down. He kicked off his cowboy
boots and rested his head back as the train began moving. He watched as Chicago
slowly disappeared from view. It had been his first time in the Windy City. Actually his first time in any city of its size. Not that he
had anything personally against them, but give him the small towns any day. He
was itching to get back to the ranch, his horses, and the cattle. The steady
rock of the train made his eyes flutter and then shut.
    The first ten minutes of his sleep had been a treat,
but then someone sobbing had jarred him wide awake. It sounded like a woman. He
closed his eyes again, trying to block it out, but he wasn’t that sort of
person. Whoever it was sounded sad. Well,
duh, Nolan, people who cried weren’t usually jumping up and down with happiness .
    He pulled at a loose piece of thread on his jeans.
The cowboy in him wanted to go and see if he could help. The other little part,
the modern man, wondered if he should mind his own business. Quinn leaned his
head back again. People were unpredictable these days, getting uptight about a
gesture that used to be a given not so long ago.
    She sobbed, this time it was louder, and he even
heard her catch her breath.
    Hell,
she needs comforting.
    He jumped up, exited the compartment, and traced
exactly where the crying was coming from. Next compartment if he wasn’t
mistaken. The curtains in there were pulled across the glass. He turned to
leave but then couldn’t. He was an old-fashioned guy and when a woman was
crying a cowboy stepped into help.
    “You okay in there?” he asked, tapping on the glass
in the door.
    Shit, what if she had a guy in there with her, a
husband who was about to suggest he mind his own business? Not that he was
scared. He’d been in his fair share of bar brawls.
    He listened closely. No response. No answering of
the door.
    At least she’d stopped crying.
    But he’d better check one last time before he went
back to his own space.
    “Ma’am, you okay?” he asked again. He peered around
the gap where the curtain