Steel Heart (Historical Western Romance) (Longren Family series #2, Chloe and Matthew's story) by Amelia Rose Page A
Authors: Amelia Rose
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happen again."
Which made Matthew laugh.
He carried me over the second threshold after services that Sunday morning, back into Gold Hill, into the house that had been Hutch's, and only for a little while. We would leave on Tuesday morning to honeymoon in Reno.
Chapter 9
They called the railroad Very Crooked and Terribly Rough, though, in reality, it was meant to be the Virginia City, Truckee and Reno line. I agreed with the first name and resented the train's effect on Matthew, which was to make him find every conceivable way to lean out, look out and get out of it, examining from every angle as I tried not to clutch at his legs and worry he'd fall from it.
He was smitten. I'd have preferred him to be smitten with his new wife. At the beginning of the journey, I worried. Then, I tried to match his interest. Failing that, completely, I pulled out one of Maggie's mystery stories and read.
The rail trip wasn't long. In truth, we were there quite quickly, though it took somewhat longer to pry Matthew away from the train.
I had not expected to be cast aside for another quite so soon.
That afternoon, we strolled along the Truckee River, ate a hearty dinner in a restaurant along the river's edge and retired, at last, to our room.
During that time, I heard about steam locomotives and railroads and trains, so much so, that when we sat in our room with the gentle evening air stirring the curtains and Virginia Street below us, I asked him why he owned a hotel and why, before that, he had owned a silver mine.
Matthew's eyes lit up, as if the question sparked something I hadn't expected, or perhaps he was just happy to share his enthusiasm. He told me about the model train he'd had as a child, and about how he'd traveled from Alturas to Virginia City by train whenever and wherever possible. He told me how they worked, which made no sense to me, and how fast they could travel and how beautiful and sleek they were.
"Almost," he added, his eyes losing their faraway stare, "as beautiful and sleek as my bride."
There was no more talk of trains that night.
My father had taken my mother and me to San Francisco once, when I was 14. He had work to do in the city and we took a train down and stayed as he did the work. The city was very different from Gold Hill, wild and rough and somehow cultured anyway. Everything there seemed bigger, not just the number of people because, of course, the city itself was larger, but the buildings, the concert halls, the hotels. The air hung thick, heavy and wet around us when we went out and, as it was spring, it was cool in the evenings but not still snowing as it had been at home.
I had never given much thought to where I lived. Nevada was my home and I loved the vistas of rolling foothills and blue-distant mountains, loved the sprawl of sagebrush, the funny tall-eared jackrabbits, the crows and magpies and blue jays. The trip, though, shook me out of my daily life and, on my return, my desert home and daily existence felt drear, dun and dull.
So, I questioned the feeling I had in Reno on our honeymoon. Surely this time out of life to become acquainted with my new husband as husband was, as to be expected, special. Everything was different. I was different and so was Matthew and there were no daily chores to be done. Meals were prepared for us, linens cleaned, we simply enjoyed each day, visiting shops we didn't know and walking alongside the river.
The feeling that I didn't want to go back to Gold Hill could be nothing more than enjoying
Which made Matthew laugh.
He carried me over the second threshold after services that Sunday morning, back into Gold Hill, into the house that had been Hutch's, and only for a little while. We would leave on Tuesday morning to honeymoon in Reno.
Chapter 9
They called the railroad Very Crooked and Terribly Rough, though, in reality, it was meant to be the Virginia City, Truckee and Reno line. I agreed with the first name and resented the train's effect on Matthew, which was to make him find every conceivable way to lean out, look out and get out of it, examining from every angle as I tried not to clutch at his legs and worry he'd fall from it.
He was smitten. I'd have preferred him to be smitten with his new wife. At the beginning of the journey, I worried. Then, I tried to match his interest. Failing that, completely, I pulled out one of Maggie's mystery stories and read.
The rail trip wasn't long. In truth, we were there quite quickly, though it took somewhat longer to pry Matthew away from the train.
I had not expected to be cast aside for another quite so soon.
That afternoon, we strolled along the Truckee River, ate a hearty dinner in a restaurant along the river's edge and retired, at last, to our room.
During that time, I heard about steam locomotives and railroads and trains, so much so, that when we sat in our room with the gentle evening air stirring the curtains and Virginia Street below us, I asked him why he owned a hotel and why, before that, he had owned a silver mine.
Matthew's eyes lit up, as if the question sparked something I hadn't expected, or perhaps he was just happy to share his enthusiasm. He told me about the model train he'd had as a child, and about how he'd traveled from Alturas to Virginia City by train whenever and wherever possible. He told me how they worked, which made no sense to me, and how fast they could travel and how beautiful and sleek they were.
"Almost," he added, his eyes losing their faraway stare, "as beautiful and sleek as my bride."
There was no more talk of trains that night.
My father had taken my mother and me to San Francisco once, when I was 14. He had work to do in the city and we took a train down and stayed as he did the work. The city was very different from Gold Hill, wild and rough and somehow cultured anyway. Everything there seemed bigger, not just the number of people because, of course, the city itself was larger, but the buildings, the concert halls, the hotels. The air hung thick, heavy and wet around us when we went out and, as it was spring, it was cool in the evenings but not still snowing as it had been at home.
I had never given much thought to where I lived. Nevada was my home and I loved the vistas of rolling foothills and blue-distant mountains, loved the sprawl of sagebrush, the funny tall-eared jackrabbits, the crows and magpies and blue jays. The trip, though, shook me out of my daily life and, on my return, my desert home and daily existence felt drear, dun and dull.
So, I questioned the feeling I had in Reno on our honeymoon. Surely this time out of life to become acquainted with my new husband as husband was, as to be expected, special. Everything was different. I was different and so was Matthew and there were no daily chores to be done. Meals were prepared for us, linens cleaned, we simply enjoyed each day, visiting shops we didn't know and walking alongside the river.
The feeling that I didn't want to go back to Gold Hill could be nothing more than enjoying
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