The Escort

chapter 2

As Angelina stood inside the crowded Pennsy Railroad terminal surrounded by her small set of luggage, she glanced at Tonio.

Mario isn't a fool. How did Tonio convince him to let him escort me?

Angelina wasn't a fool, either. She'd been careful not to let Mario see her anywhere near Tonio before the trip, fearing Mario would somehow sense her involuntary attraction to the handsome Northerner. Maybe Tonio did indeed possess a silver tongue. Or maybe he simply held his liquor better than Mario. All she knew for certain was that Mario had met with Tonio at a bar and come home singing loudly, cradling an expensive bottle of Pino Grigio under his arm that could only have come from Tonio. Before toppling into bed, Mario gave his pronouncement—Angelina would go to Idaho with Tonio. End of discussion.

Tonio was occupied at a ticket window across the room. Angelina watched him purchase their tickets and lamented the necessity of an escape plan. He wore a black leather jacket with fringes that hung from the arms and tight denim pants that showcased heavily muscled legs. She could easily imagine herself tangled in the fringes, pressed thigh against thigh with him. But her conscience spoke against such fancy. She heard her father's voice in her mind, calling her his little flirt. She remembered the conversation she'd overheard between her parents.

"Angelina likes the men too much. She has too much passion and could be led astray so easily. She has no money. They will ruin her but not marry her. She will end up like her grandmama. We must see her safely married," her mother had said. Because there were no young men in Italy willing to marry her without a dowry, they had sent her to America to marry a man more than twice her age.

Whether Angelina felt married or not, she had pledged herself to her father's friend. And she was tired of living off the charity of others who had little enough for themselves. Her sense of honor chafed at taking Tonio's, and her common sense warned of the danger of being too near him. Once on board the train, she wouldn't need an escort. How dangerous could riding a train alone be? At the train depot in Jersey, she would lose him and continue on her own.

She turned back to stare out the window, fixing her gaze on the Dewar's Whiskey sign outside as it drifted in and out of view in the thick, ponderous fog. She hoped she looked serene and calm as she stood there, her mind whirling with her plan. She felt confident. She had only one small, niggling worry—Tonio was smart.

The terminal bristled with people. Two ferry runs had already been canceled due to poor visibility and high winds. People jostled past her as they moved toward the ticket lines. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag with the croissant she had purchased the day before at her favorite panetteria. She took a big bite of the confection. Its whipped chocolate filling oozed out over her lips. She turned again to monitor Tonio's progress. He was still at the window. She caught his eye as she slowly and deliberately licked the chocolate away.

He smiled and mouthed something to her, but she missed his message. Someone bumped her from behind. As she turned to look she was hit again. The croissant fell from her hand to the floor.

"Smettila! Stop it!" She whirled on the perpetrator. "Imbecile! It is ruined!" She pointed to the croissant.

The stocky man she faced spoke in a low, abasing tone. "Why don't you let me buy you a new one?" He reached to chuck her chin.

She turned away quickly and with exaggerated motions, counted her bags aloud in stilted, accented English. Her eyes darted around looking for an accomplice. Gypsies in Naples used this ruse to steal from weary travelers.

"One, two, three—"

"You think I'm trying to steal your bags?" He moved closer to her, intentionally bumping the side of her breast with his arm. He reeked of stale sweat and cigarette smoke. "I just want to get to know you. You're such a pretty lady."

She shoved him away and let loose a string of angry Italian, gesturing dramatically as she did so. The man's eyes widened. He put his hands up in mock surrender before taking a step back.

"The lady told you to take a walk." Tonio spoke from directly behind her. She'd been so occupied she hadn't heard him approach.

The man backed off and disappeared into the crowd as spooked as if he'd seen a statue of the Virgin Mary cry.

"Boo!" Angelina whispered beneath her breath, delighted. She turned to face Tonio. "I was handling him."

"Were you?" Tonio stood with his coat cocked back to reveal the silver handle of a lethal looking stiletto sheathed in a leather case attached to his belt.

Angelina stared at the knife and then smiled at Tonio. "Nice blade."

"Sharp, too," he said. "Make your husband get you one when we reach the Silver Valley. They come in handy for all kinds of things—slicing meat, scaring off unwanted suitors…"

"You use yours for scaring off the ladies, then?" She grinned at him. "The women in this mining country of yours must be very aggressive."

He laughed. "You'd be surprised."

Angelina arched a brow to show her skepticism.

He laughed again as he took her arm. "Seriously, Angel. No one walks around the valley unarmed."

"I hate knives."

"Get over it or get a gun and learn to shoot." He grabbed a handful of bags. "Come on. The ferries are running again. They'll make the announcement in a minute. We have to hurry if we want to beat the crowd and make it on."



The humid, departing fog chilled the air on the deck of the Cincinnati. Angelina huddled her arms tightly against herself for warmth as she leaned against the rail and retched into the tumultuous, blue-green Hudson River below. The wind whipped at her, streaking her hair across her face and stinging her flesh, moist with the trauma of seasickness. The fifteen minute crossing stretched into thirty, then forty-five. Tonio came out from the warmth of the cabin to check on her.

"One bite of croissant." She clutched her stomach, though it had nothing left, worried she would wretch in front of him and horrified at the thought.

"Come into the cabin."

She shook her head. He removed his fringed leather jacket and hooked it over her shoulders. "Your coat is too thin for this kind of weather." Then he turned and went back to the cabin.

She watched him retreat, wondering about this small show of kindness. He intrigued her. Too bad she wouldn't have time to discover his motives. When they reached Jersey City, she'd be on her own. Her plan didn't prevent her from burrowing her nose deep into the rich leather of his coat or enjoying its body-warmed heat and the scent he left clinging to the collar. Even with waves of nausea clutching her stomach, he smelled good. Too good. She took a deep breath to slow her racing heart, hoping that Franco Allessandro would be able to set her pulse pattering as Tonio did. She would settle for half as fast.



"Have we missed our train?" Angelina asked.

Tonio, leaning across the ticket counter at the Jersey City terminal, waved her into silence and focused his attention on the clerk behind the window.

Angelina huddled close behind him, listening with interest to the conversation, memorizing as much of it as possible. But they spoke rapidly in quiet tones and she wasn't able to understand much. Still, it would be a useful conversation to have in her repertoire. If she succeeded in her plan she would need it soon. Frustrated, she took a step back and focused her attention on the schedule board posted above the ticket window. Fortunately, she could read English better than she understood the spoken language.

She scanned the board quickly. The fog had delayed them. They had missed their train by ten minutes. The next one with connections through to Chicago didn't leave for another hour, and the one after that three hours later. Perfect! She didn't want to spend the night in the station alone. Much better to be in the safety of the train. The incident in the New York depot had convinced her of that. As soon as Tonio finished at the window she'd ask him for her ticket. Then nothing could foil her plan.

Tonio stepped back from the window and grabbed her arm. "Come on," he said. "The train was delayed—it hasn't left yet. We can make it if we hurry." He grabbed their bags.

Angelina scrambled after him. "Why can't we wait for the next train?" She needed more time! Her thoughts whirled in a panic. She tried to delay him. "Let's stay in the depot, get a bite to eat. I'm hungry."

"I thought you'd sworn off food." He waited for her to pass in front of him, then placed his hand in the small of her back and nudged her along. "This way."

The boarding area was nearly empty when they reached it and the last call was being sounded. Tonio hurriedly hailed a porter, grabbed her arm, and handed her the ticket. "Take this and your traveling case and board the train. Find two seats together while I check the luggage. Damn! We're going to have to travel second class."

This turn of events was more than she'd hoped for. It was too easy! She considered not boarding the train at all, but under his watchful eye there was nothing else she could do. She lifted her skirts and climbed serenely up the loading steps, even pausing to turn and smile at him, but his attention was already focused on the man loading their luggage. Goodbye, Tonio!

She forced herself on with her heart racing. As soon as her feet hit the top step, she sped down the aisle toward the front of the train and the first exit she could find. People cluttered the aisle, stretching and shoving luggage under their seats.

"Mi scusi. Please, I must get through!" She ran with her bag held high, level with her head, dodging people both seated and not, looking back at regular intervals to see if Tonio had boarded yet.

A blast of steam from the engine sounded. Angelina felt a slight shift of forward motion as the engineer released the brake. Another puff of steam followed. The exit lay just ahead. She raced forward, and, head bowed, turned down the exit stairs. Her skirts caught. As she reached to free them a familiar voice stopped her.

"Going someplace?"

She looked up and went cold.

Tonio stood at the bottom of the stairs, blocking her way, fury snapping in his eyes. Without a word he stepped up, grabbed her arm, and pulled her along into a pair of seats. He was tall and strong. Resisting him was futile and would only cause a scene. But there was still a chance—

"I…I need to use the bathroom."

He pulled her ticket from her tight grip and pointed to a small cubicle at the back of the car. "Go right ahead."

The train lurched forward. She sat down, defeated. "Why bother to escort me? Why not just let me go? It would be much less trouble for you."

"I like trouble." He looked out across the aisle and through the window as the Jersey City depot disappeared behind them.



"Just what was your plan?" Tonio glared at her.

"I was going to get off and exchange my ticket for a later train."

"And did this idea just spring to mind, or had you planned it all along?"

There was no reason to keep the truth from him. "Originally, I planned to ask you for my ticket. Once we were seated I was going to excuse myself to use the bathroom and freshen up. Then I was going to get off the train and exchange my ticket. I figured you wouldn't notice until the train had pulled away and it was too late. But when we had to hurry to catch the train, I had to think on my feet."

"You don't give me much credit for brains." He stared hard at her, his head cocked a little to the side. "Why run?"

She shrugged, unable to admit to her attraction to him and the slight to her honor at being beholden to a stranger. "How did you know I was trying to get off?"

"I saw you through the window, scuttling down the aisle like a lady with a bee up her ass. I figured you weren't in that big a hurry to find a seat."

"Very observant."

"You don't like me much." His voice didn't give any emotion away.

"I like you fine." She liked him too much.

"But you don't trust me."

She didn't trust herself. Angelina tried not to squirm under his heavy gaze. "I'm tired of being beholden to others, that's all. I want to take care of myself."

"Is that all? Get over the notion. I promised Nonna and Mario that I would take care of you. And I will. I'm a man of my word."

She felt his gentle touch on her arm.

"Come on. Let's get something to eat. You complained you were hungry over an hour ago, or was that subterfuge, too?"

"It was, and I am. But I have a bag of food that Lucia, Mario's wife, packed for me."

"Leave it. We'll eat it later. This one's on me."

She turned to face him and was caught by his dark, devastating eyes. She stared into them a moment too long. She could be prisoner of those eyes forever. She dropped her gaze. If ever Papa had to worry over a man ruining her…

The cafe car was dark and dimly lit. Outside it had started to rain. Tonio ordered at the counter next to the grill and returned to the table with their food. Angelina felt his gaze on her as she dusted away crumbs left by the table's last occupants. When they were both seated, he took a drink of his beer and watched her intently as she took a bite of her grilled sandwich. She crinkled her nose without thinking.

"You don't like American food?"

"I do. But not this. It tastes like the grill."

"So you don't just eat bread and beans. Good southern food."

Angelina laughed. "No."

They ate in silence for a moment. She felt his gaze on her, but didn't look up to meet it. At last he spoke, "I think it's fair if I ask—why was your first escort denied entry?"

"Paolo got trachoma on the ship over."

"Paolo?"

"My husband's youngest brother. He's twenty-five, but he acts more like fifteen. I was at Mario's about a week when I ran into a man I'd met on the boat. He told me Paolo had been boasting about how he was going thwart immigration and jump ship and swim ashore."

"Did he?"

"He never showed up." She grimaced. "I doubt he did. He doesn't have the courage."

"Wise man. Some poor fool tries every year and inevitably his body washes up on the beach, beat beyond recognition." He took a sip of beer. "Your husband didn't have any qualms with sending you over with his younger brother? I mean—"

"I know what you mean, Signor Domani. No, he didn't. Paolo looks like a frog."

"You prefer your men handsome?" He leaned toward her. She liked the raw look she saw in his expression. He was incredibly handsome. And he knew it. She looked down and drew small circles on the table with the water that condensed beneath her glass.

"What woman doesn't? We all dream of princes."

"You're not worried that your husband is a frog, too?"

"He's twenty-five years older than I am. He's most assuredly a toad." She fought the urge to look up and see his shocked face. When he didn't answer immediately, she couldn't help herself. She lifted her gaze and looked directly at him.

He sat well back in his chair, smiling at her in obvious amusement. He drained his beer and set the empty glass on the table. "The difference between the young frog and the old toad being?"

"The toad has money and land and a kind heart."

"I see. You couldn't find a handsome man with money?"

"You must have left Italy a long time ago. And my guess is that you've never been to the South. There are no men. The crop failures have sent them all away. Nearly all the able-bodied men have emigrated to find work. Or they've been killed in wars. Southern women without dowries remain unmarried. And how can they get them when their fathers can't work?"

"There is always the convent," he said. "A wise and pristine choice."

"Filled to capacity."

"A blessing then." He leaned forward and her heart skipped a beat. "I can't picture a girl with your temperament there anyway."

Her face fell and he laughed. He'd seen her disappointment. He had been on the verge of a compliment. Or so she'd hoped.

"Men are so scarce that the rich are willing to accept any man for their daughters, even those well below their station. Had I a dowry, I would have rejected any choice of man left to me in the village."

"It appears I missed my calling," he said. "I shouldn't be here in the States breaking my back on a mining claim. I should be back in Italy, marrying some rich southerner."

"They'd as soon spit on you, Northerner."

"And you?"

She smiled her most dazzling smile at him. "I can put up with you until Idaho."

"You won't be trying to escape again?"

"Will I need to?"

He laughed and stood up, motioning toward the door with his head. "Let's get back." As they passed through the door from the dining car he leaned close and whispered in her ear. "Maybe."



The conductor came through again after dark, not to punch tickets but to sell an assortment of goods, everything from chumming boards that were placed across facing seats to form a bed, to blankets and pillows. He was followed closely by the news butcher who sold a more varied stock—candy, cigarettes, and sundries, and, of course, newspapers. Angelina watched as Tonio pivoted the two wooden bench seats to face each other and spread the chumming board and pillows between them.

"Straw," he said thumping a pillow. "You'd think for the outrageous price of two dollars and fifty cents you'd get goose down."

Oil lamps burned dimly. Rain splashed against the windows. People were settling down for the night and preparing their beds, much as Tonio was.

"Damn! I hate second class. This train borders on ancient. Thirty years if it's a day."

"Don't like traveling with the vermin?"

"Don't like sleeping on straw and planks. We'll see how you feel in the morning. First chance I get, I'm earning our way out of here. From Chicago, we'll be traveling in style. After you." He indicated the inside of the makeshift bed, next to the window.

"I'm not sleeping with you." She blurted the words out without thinking.

"Let's get our terminology straight. Sleeping with me is a much more enjoyable, intimate occasion. This is sleeping next to me, chumming—sharing space for the mutual purpose of sleep. But suit yourself; find someone else to chum with. I'm sure the conductor can find someone suitable, for another two fifty."

She quickly scanned the coach. Other than women with families, who were already snuggled together for the night, there were no single women. Two or three men still sought someone to chum with. One, a greasy looking man who spoke some Slavic tongue, eyed her and smiled hopefully.

"Move over," she finally said.

"Nothing doing. You get the window."

"Afraid I'll try to escape?"

"I don't like sleeping next to cold glass."

She slipped off her work boots and scooted next to the window. He handed the boots back to her, along with her duffel.

"Keep your boots on or they might not be here in the morning." He tossed a thin blanket over her and slid in next to her, turning his back to her. "Good night," he said, looking back over his shoulder. He rolled forward again, toward the aisle.

He was right. The bed was hard and uncomfortable and the window cold. She tried positioning her duffel between them, but that pushed her closer to the drafty window. At last she shoved it next to the window and curled around it like it was a favorite doll. Her back butted up against Tonio, whose body warmth was exceedingly tempting. She stared outside at the dark countryside passing by. With her luck and sleeping habits she'd probably wake in the morning to find herself sprawled out over Tonio like a wanton woman. It wasn't fair that he slept peacefully while she fought the temptation to roll over and cuddle behind him. Just for warmth.

She rolled back over on one elbow and stared at him. His body was taut and firm even in the relaxation of sleep. He looked like he slept at alert, ready to pounce up and use that dangerous-looking knife on anyone who dared disturb him. His hair curled up in back where it met his neck. For the first time she noticed a jagged scar that ran up the nape of his neck and into his hairline. How would a man get a scar like that? He slept with his mouth closed. A good sign. He wasn't likely to snore.

A child cried for water at the back of the coach. His mother walked past carrying a cup for her thirsty child. "I remember those newlywed days when I couldn't keep my eyes off my man." She winked and disappeared down the aisle.

Angelina dropped off her elbow and back over to face the window. She understood enough English to get the woman's gist. Her heart pounded in her ears, but her embarrassed flush quickly cooled as she huddled next to her duffel. She was tired and shaken. Fatigued beyond what she could remember. And cold. She was used to sleeping in a bed with her sisters and then with Mario's children. Loneliness and exhaustion overcame her. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her and rolled over behind Tonio.