The train screeched to a halt at the remote crossing. Before the last freight car settled, Terrance flung himself down the ladder to the gravel railbed and galloped to the front of his engine.

Had he pulled the brake lever in time?

The waning sunlight cast a long shadow over the hood of the too-close tiny car on the tracks. Heart pounding, he skidded as he slowed, held his breath, and twisted to look between the vehicles, braced for glass, blood, last words.

Stringy brunette hair concealed a young woman's face, head dangling forward. Her wrists were looped with red and black nylon rope, the ends trapped in the top of the closed door, out of sight behind tinted glass. Her body hung limp from her bound arms, knees brushing the crumbling asphalt between the tracks, feet under the body of the vehicle. The coupling above the locomotive's plow hovered less than a foot from her torn black t-shirt, which twitched when she drew a shallow breath.

Alive, but for how much longer?

He skimmed his mental list of supplies in the cab and failed to ignore the crocodile clock adding second after second to this delay. A survey of the car and the surrounding area confirmed what he'd suspected: getting his train back on schedule and transporting this woman to safety would rest entirely on him.

He retraced his path, gathered what he needed, and returned to the woman's side. The car doors were locked, but the closed driver's side window shattered easily with his emergency multitool. A button on the driver's door unlocked all the doors with a snick. Terrance rounded the car again, reaching for the handle of the passenger door, worried about the dimming light.

Brilliant sky eyes pierced his from a face twisted by confusion and pain.

Awake. A good sign. Might make it easier to get her in the cab.

"Where...where am I?" Her breathy voice sounded like a long-forgotten lullaby his mother sang to him every night until her death. He shook away the memory. No time for distractions now.

Her beat up sneakers scraped the ground, struggling for purchase.

"Let's get you comfortable before we talk. Sun's setting, and I need to get underway. I'm gonna help you."

His voice sounded raspy. Terrance tried to remember the last time he'd said more than a few words to anyone, then stopped trying. There would be time enough for that after the train was in motion again.

She didn't protest, so he leaned over and hooked his arm behind her knees. A careful tug aligned the bottom of her shoes with the pavement. She shook with the effort of trying to straighten her legs.

"Don't," he said." Let me get your hands free first."

She stopped shaking and relaxed with a sigh. Terrance put a hand on her shoulder and eased the door open behind her. His hand kept her steady as the door pushed her to her knees, the rope between her wrists sagging low once freed from the door seal. She nearly clipped her chin on the coupler on her way down. Terrance's grip kept her back against the door until the right moment. With the woman able to sink down onto her heels, Terrance made quick work of the knots at her wrists and tossed the rope into the car. He felt oddly satisfied when the door slamming reverberated in the still air.

He squatted between her and the plow and held out his hands. "Come on. You'll be safer in the cab."

Her eyes widened as though just now realizing she was staring at a locomotive, at what could have been the vehicle of her death. He expected panic, hesitance, or a stream of questions. Instead, she placed her hands gingerly in his and closed her eyes. Slowly he rose to his feet, pulling her up with him, lightly gripping her forearms. When she stood steadily, he released her right arm and led her away from the car.

At the ladder, he followed her up only a rung behind, a human safety net. At the top, she crawled across the cab to a pile of folded blankets stashed in the corner. He kept them for napping during long delays at crossings. She curled up on top of the stack and closed her eyes again.

From the ladder he called, "I'm gonna clear the tracks, then I'll be back. Stay there and don't touch anything."

She didn't acknowledge his words at all, and he wondered if she'd fainted. A moment wasted staring at her balled-up form convinced him she was still breathing. He saved that moment by jumping down to the railbed, hands sliding along the ladder rails to control his flight.

At the toy-sized vehicle again, he propped open the driver's side door to search for a way to get it moving. A key would be nice, but he would settle for a transmission he could force into neutral. The latter was like no bit of engineering he'd ever worked on before, so he flipped through the glove box and piles of papers on the seats.

No key.

Resigned to radioing dispatch and sitting a long spell with his new companion, he withdrew from the car. A glint of sunlight on the floor under the pedals stopped him. His questing fingers met with the familiar steel and plastic of an ignition key. As he fitted it into place, he glanced around, wondering if there was enough room in this bubble for him to get behind the wheel.

In the end, he sympathized with clowns performing the crowded car trick. He'd hunched low and held his breath after exhaling to fit into the driver's seat, and still his head, chest and shins touched parts of the interior. He heaved a relieved sigh after parking the tiny torture chamber a safe distance from the tracks next to a copse of aspen, and jogged back to his favorite mode of transportation.

The woman lay where he left her, so he set himself to work as soon as he'd secured the door behind himself. In front of the iron beast's controls, he surveyed the gauges and lights for trouble. Seeing none, he initiated the sequence to get the train in motion, reveling in the roar of the locomotive coming to life, in the clattering jerk that echoed from each coupling snapping tight. His hands danced, muscle memory guiding them through the steps he began dreaming of in his teens, nearly two decades of track behind. He radioed in the delay, with assurances about making up the time, then settled in for the journey to Denver.

"It would be best if you left me here," a soft voice breathed into his ear, barely audible.

His fingers twitched. He took a steadying breath before scanning the panel again, thankful his momentary lapse hadn't been catastrophic. Raising his voice and keeping his eyes forward, he responded, "My momma taught me many things, among them the importance of punctuality and chivalry. In this case, both are best served by keeping you with me. We are far from medical aid, and clearing the tracks used all the buffer in my schedule."

This time when she spoke, he anticipated the distraction. She said, "The men who want me dead set up a game camera in a tree near the tracks. They won't let me escape. You will get caught in the middle of a war, die for a stranger."

After a pause, she continued, remorse clouding her words, "I'm sorry their plans interfered with your work, but it's nice to know there is at least one good guy left. I wish...but I need to go."

He felt the brush of her hair along his cheek. Instinct guided his hand to her bicep before she took a full step toward the door, halting her. Gently he pulled her to his side and pointed out the side window. The downward slide of her arm in his grasp matched her heavy sigh at the view.

Though fitted with more than thirty freight cars, most of them were empty, and the locomotive was designed for use in the mountains. Already, the ground blurred by, jumping now an intimidating prospect. She stared out blankly for so long, Terrence automatically returned his attention to the gauges and their cheery glow.

The last streaks of sunset lost their fight against the encroaching night before he felt the woman's arm shift in his hand. Startled to realize he still gripped her at all, he retracted his fingers. Empty, he skimmed them over the controls.

"My savior on an iron horse," she muttered. "Tell me, do you have a set of armor or an enchanted weapon around here somewhere?"

He smirked at her humor, but resisted looking at her. Looks led to words, words led to touches, and touches led to breaking, breaking anything that lacked a forged backbone.

"Or perhaps you prefer a cowboy hat and chaps, perhaps paired with a cape?"

She won't give up easily. Just my luck to rescue a talker.

"No costume or magical objects here, miss," he muttered.

His terse response set off a flurry of words, the opposite reaction he'd hoped for. The roar of the locomotive drowned out more than half, and he ignored the rest, sinking into his routine checks. Gauges, switches, tracks ahead, tracks behind.

Her silence interrupted the trance of work, along with her hand brushing his shirt, smoothing a wrinkle over the point of his shoulder, applying no more pressure than a falling leaf. Yet it distracted him, so he twisted to look at her.

Her wide ice-blue eyes startled him, a foot from his own mud brown orbs. An unwelcome tug of longing urged him to lose himself in her gaze, and he frowned. Her temples pinched in response, and when she spoke, the edges of her words matched the sharp ones of his.

"They will come for me. Moving trains and white knights won't stop them from finishing what they started."

"Who?"

"They wanted me for a prisoner exchange, of sorts, that fell through. They need to prove a point. They think they can force their enemy's hand, once they prove they keep their promises."

"Who?" Why so cryptic? I hate puzzles.

A sigh. A glance away. Ice against dirt again. "Terrorists. My father tricked one of their own, got him out in the open and arrested him. Hid him away. They want him back. They tried using me as leverage."

A bark of laughter. "They messed up. We haven't talked in years, by choice."

In a softer voice, "The moment they made their demands, my death was inevitable. Dear old Dad responded by goading them, saying they could beat me and run me over with a train on the plains of Colorado, and their man would continue to rot in solitary secret confinement. They promised him he could watch his wish come true."

A long pause, then she repeated, "They will come for me." She dropped her gaze to the floor.

Terrance huffed out a breath. His mind conjured the memory of scuffing sand on his skin, driven by windstorms against his motionless body as he observed the outcome of a well-planned operation. Even as he shook off the past, he knew what needed doing. Out of habit, he scanned the controls in front of him while a long-dormant part of him awoke and mapped out their next steps.

The woman stood by the door staring out into the dark when he rose from his seat. Stomping his boots attracted her attention, and he extended a hand to her. She stared at it blankly for half a minute before grasping it with a shrug. Her head tilted sideways when she met his gaze. She didn't speak.

He tugged her back to the pile of blankets. "Stay here. You'll be low enough to be out of easy sight, and if they try to break into the cab, you'll have some protection from flying glass."

He gestured to a handle attached to a trapdoor next to her. "If I say so, grab that so you don't slide around and add to your injuries."

He pulled a handgun from his hidden holster and replaced it once her eyes widened in recognition. "If need be, I'm capable of defending this train and everything, and everyone, aboard."

He dug a worn paperback copy of "The Lord of the Rings" out of his backpack, which dangled from his seat in front of the controls. "It's all I've got, but it should last you till we get to Denver. Once there, the yard master will know what to do."

She took the book silently and flipped to the first page with a nod. Her care with his bookmark–a scrap of cardboard whose "There is no friend as loyal as a book" inscription was barely readable–curled one corner of his mouth upward as he returned to his panel. The expression felt stiff; he refused to remember the last time it graced his face. It was the past.

For a long stretch, she stayed quiet, and so did he. The hypnotic rhythm he'd practiced for years sucked his attention in, eventually obscuring the presence of the rescued woman, the flutter of her flipping pages drowned in the rumble of the engine underfoot.

Motion along the side of the train, visible in the right rear facing mirror, broke his trance just after the train cleared an underpass in a quiet Denver suburb. A few moments of observation convinced him that the dark shapes were no trick of the passing street lights, a conviction further firmed by the appearance of matching shadows in the cab's left side mirror.

He opened his mouth to call the woman's attention to the threat, keeping his eyes forward. A hand clenched on his shoulder, and her voice in his ear closed his lips.

"They found us," she whispered, acceptance and despair laced in her words.

Without clear intention, he hooked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side. She had been kneeling beside him, so the motion was easy. Ignoring the surges of anger and compassion the threatened to overwhelm him as her form trembled against his proved far more challenging. Once upon a time, a long long time ago...

"We've slowed. Are we close to the yard you mentioned?"

Her soft question pulled him back to the present, and he answered, voice gruff, "Yes, to both. I think we picked up our surfers from the last overpass. The slower speed allowed them to jump on and grab hold, something not as easy even an hour ago."

She shivered in his grip, and he pressed her a little closer. "They cannot breach the cab easily, dear. Even if they succeed, I will protect you, with my life, if necessary. I doubt they have the time, though. We will be at the yard soon, and security there will tend to them, should they wait that long."

When Terrance reluctantly removed his arm from the woman's shoulder, she stayed against his side. He made no comment, her warmth blending into him in such a way that soothed and invigorated his nerves, echoing sensations he'd long been denied. That he felt this way, under such circumstances, struck him as unfortunate, but he would not deny himself the pleasure, however short it lasted. If only I were someone else...

The train groaned to a stop in its assigned place, its unwanted passengers still clinging to it, mussels on a rolling iron rock. As the engine shuddered into silence and the control panel lights dimmed, the shadows advanced, dropping to the rail bed and creeping forward on both sides of the locomotive.

Terrance slid from his seat and crouched low beside it. Steps silent despite his heavy boots, he kept the woman close as he moved to put the solid rear wall of the cab at his back. He drew his handgun and aimed it at the locked cab door, with his companion against his other side.

Tink tink tink

Shoes on metal ladder rungs rang distinctly in the quiet. He counted them, calculating when the invader would reach the top, peer through the glass, rattle the outer latch. He raised his weapon, steadied it with his other hand, tightened his trigger finger in readiness.

"This is the FBI! Step away from that locomotive and raise your hands over your heads! All of you, now!"

Powerful flashlight beams cut through the dark all around, their light reflecting off the cab ceiling as they jerked and swung. Yelling and a single gunshot kept Terrance from relaxing his protective pose much. Amid the chaos outside emerged the sound of another attempt on the ladder, and as his muscles tightened again in readiness, a face lit from below appeared at the door. He lifted the gun to aim it between the villain's eyes, waiting for the assault, when the woman stood up at his back.

"Father?"

At her confused shout, he lowered his firearm and stood beside her. He did not return the weapon to its holster just yet.

"Do you want to let him in?"

She hesitated, then "Will you stay with me? I don't want to be alone with him."

"Of course." The promise fell from his mouth without thought. He'd never meant anything more.

She stepped to the door and released the lock, not waiting for the door to open before retreating to his side. A tall lean man dressed all in black and carrying a lit flashlight stepped confidently into the small space, then grinned and opened his arms.

"Maddy! I'm so happy to see you safe and sound! I feared the worst when I got the link to the camera feed, but I see it all worked out. Come, give your old man a hug, then I can properly thank your friend here."

The woman–Maddy–stood her ground at Terrance's side. "Why are you here, Father? You made your true feelings for me clear yesterday, when you told those evil men just how to kill me, rather than release their colleague. So what is this?"

The older man's expression flickered before the happy mask returned. "Why, darling girl, what are you talking about? You know that was all business. I knew they wouldn't really hurt you, not their bargaining chip. They only want to scare us both into giving them what they want. They chose the perfect setup to ensure you would be saved by the instincts of this excellent engineer. It was a great plan, really. Their downfall was underestimating my ability to see through their ploy."

He puffed out his chest, ready for an invisible medal to be pinned there. Terrance narrowed his eyes and shifted in front of Maddy, his Maddy. The worst threat to her safety stood before him.

In a low tone, he asked, "How do you know Henry Beaucamp?"

The older man's head tilted to the side, manufactured confusion filling his expression. "I'm not sure I know who you mean."

"Henry Beaucamp. A bit shorter and older than yourself, a man of loyalty to company and family. Employee of this railroad for more years than I've been alive. Did you threaten him, or did he owe you a favor for some past benevolence?"

"I still don't understand, why would I–"

"Schedules for this company are not public knowledge, purposefully, nor are performance reviews, be they positive or not. The only person who could set up such a perfect scenario, who had access to all of the needed information, is Henry Beaucamp. I know he is neither a terrorist himself, nor would he knowingly collaborate with terrorists. That leaves you as the loose end here. So, how did you turn him?"

For a heartbeat, Terrance wondered if he'd misread the man. Then his face twisted, all traces of confusion and the joy of reunion with a loved one washed away by arrogance and scorn.

"I did nothing wrong. Yes, I called in a favor to get what I wanted, an 'in' with a slippery bunch of terrorists, that posed no personal risk to myself. After all, sweet Maddy, your mother confessed to me a while ago that you are not my child. I suggested the exact set-up that would lure my target into a trap, no more, no less. Your survival is only a side effect of my masterful planning."

Terrance could stand no more of the man's posturing. A glance at Maddy's frozen expression and parted lips explained her silence and spurred his own action. He took two steps to place himself chest to chest with the idiot, reveling in a bit of satisfaction when he retreated toward the open door. As he spoke, he stepped forward again, keeping close so the man wouldn't misunderstand.

"No, sir, Maddy's life was given into my hands by your foolish jealousy, and unlike you, I value her as the gift I never knew I wanted, regardless of how she came into my life. She will always be safe with me, should she choose to stay. And if she stays, I will keep her far away from dangers like you. Now, get off my train."

The man leaned around to search out Maddy. "Of course she's not staying with you. I am her family, despite the current unfortunateness." His soft mask dropped back into place as he coaxed, "Come on, Maddy. If we hurry, we can stop at In And Out on the way home."

"No." Maddy stepped to Terrance's side and tucked her hand into his elbow. "Agent Gunderson, I will not be accompanying you anywhere. This man..."

"Terrance," he supplied.

She grinned up at him before addressing her father again. "Terrance has shown me more care and consideration in this situation than you have in the past several years, so I choose to stay with him for now. Please don't contact me again."

To Terrance, she said, "Where to, Engineer?"

"Anywhere you like, my dear," he returned.

He took one more step toward the flustered agent, who squeaked and scrambled for the ladder. Ignoring him, Terrance faced Maddy and held out his hand. When her fingers squeezed his, a smile curled his lips and his cheeks stretched almost to the point of pain. He relished the burn.

"I have a feeling our future will outshine our pasts. Let's go find it."