It was the sound of the engine that woke her. She heard it chug into the station and the steam escape as it stopped. She leapt to her feet and ran to her window. She threw back the shade and sure enough, down the street she could see where the train had stopped at the station. She looked at her watch. It was a little after two in the morning. Floyd had said there was no telling if and when a train would get through and if it did, it wouldn't stay long. Her bag was packed and sitting next to the door. She grabbed her clothes from the night before off the floor and hurried into them. She left some money on the bed and slipped out of the room.

Halfway down main street she slowed her pace. The night was so still and so complete the only light came from the single lantern outside the post office and the lanterns on the train. She paused and stared up at the stars. She had never seen stars so bright and beautiful as the ones here.

She looked down at her bag and for the very first time wished she had thrown it in the river. Her feet continued to carry her to the station, but as she neared the platform she found she was not as anxious to board the train as she had been.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a man from the train called. "Do you have a ticket?"

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Forrest slammed his foot on the break as he came skidding around the last corner into town. The train was stopped, blocking the road leading into town.

He was too late.

He had been up late in the night going over the books when he heard the train. At first it had not registered. He had been listening to the trains in the hollow his entire life through the open windows of the store. It took him almost a full minute before he realized what this particular train meant. This was the first train to get into the hollow in weeks.

She would be gone.

He leapt out of his chair so fast he knocked it over in his haste to rush out the door. He jerked open the door to Peter's truck and cranked the engine over. With no moon overhead the roads were dark as pitch but he took them faster than he ever had in his life. The train was so long that parked at the station platform it blocked the road. He had no way to get across. No way to say...he wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

He slammed his fist into the dash. Moments later the train chirped twice before it started to roll away from the platform, down the tracks and disappear from view. He sat there long after the train disappeared, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel.

Finally he sat up, and rolled the truck forward. He pulled into the platform lot, prepared to turn around and drive home when the headlights flashed over her bench. He slammed on the breaks again. Sitting on the bench, her bag at her feet as it had been every day since her arrival, was Rose.

Forrest jumped out of the truck and practically ran to her.

She stood to meet him, "what are you doing here?" she asked breathlessly.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Even in the dim light of the headlights he could see that she blushed. "It wasn't my train," she told him, peaking up at him from under her lashes like she did when he was making her nervous.

He resisted the urge to touch her. He wanted to raise her chin so she would look him full in the eyes but she had never been comfortable enough with him to do so. "Did they know when your train would be along?" he somehow managed to ask over the lump in his throat.

She shook her head, and it was the first time he had ever seen her hair not styled. It fell in loose waves to her shoulders. "Maybe not for a while yet." She shivered as a light breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. She was wearing the same long sleeve dress she had been earlier that day, but the material was thin and did little to ward off the chill of the night.

He pulled off his worn flannel and wrapped it around her shoulders, leaving him in a light cotton under shirt and suspenders. "Why aren't you wearing a sweater?" he asked, taking her bag from her hand.

"I was in a hurry."

"Come on, let's get you home." He guided her around to the passenger side of the truck and held the door for her.

"Forrest," it might have been the first time she said his name, he couldn't remember. But it caught him by surprise and when he looked back at her she was nearer than he thought. She was close enough to kiss. And for a moment he forgot why he shouldn't. He forgot all about his brothers and how she would leave eventually. She licked her lips and his eyes followed the movement.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Why did you come?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "Couldn't let you leave without say'in-"

"Was there a train!?"

Both Forrest and Rose jumped at the sound of Floyd's tired voice. He was still wearing his nightshirt with his trousers pulled hastily over the top. His hair was disheveled as he leaned out of his truck window.

Forrest cursed under his breath and turned to face the old man. Floyd visibly shrank back as he realized who stood with Miss Rose. Rose swatted Forrest on the arm and walked over to where Floyd was waiting. "Yes there was, they left a mail bag out back of your booth." She said pointing. "They said they weren't sure when they would get through again. There have been strikes."

"And they wouldn't take you?" Floyd sounded outraged on her behalf and it made Forrest like the old man a little more.

She shook her head. "It wasn't my train," and she started back for the truck.

"I'll see you in the mornin' Miss Rose," Floyd called.

Rose shook her head. "I don't think so Floyd."

Forrest tipped his chin to hide his grin. As she neared, he offered her a hand to climb into the truck. Her slim hand was cool and had a slight tremble to it. Forrest gave it a reassuring squeeze as he helped her up. He closed the door behind her and walked back around to his side of the truck.

"Mr. Garret," Floyd called to him, still leaning out his window.

Forrest frowned. He glanced back at Rose to make sure she was alright, and approached Floyd's vehicle.

Floyd was so nervous he wouldn't look at Forrest; instead he stared straight ahead at the train platform.

"What do ya need Floyd?" he asked, annoyance coloring his voice. It was late, and he didn't have any patience for whatever accusations the old man was going to sling his way.

"I just- I-" Floyd stammered. He took a deep breath, centered himself, and stared Forrest square in the face. "Miss Rose is a special lady Forrest."

Forrest grunted, but didn't say anything in reply.

"I-I mean, Mr. Garrett. She shouldn't-I mean, you and your brothers..."

Forrest arched a brow, daring the old man to finish his sentence.

"You just be careful with her. She's a proper lady."

Forrest nodded. "Have a good night Floyd."

When he climbed into the truck Rose looked like she wanted to ask, but was too intimidated. Forrest put the truck in gear. "Floyd was worried we're a bad influence. Come on, let's get you home."

He set off down the road, but instead of driving to the boarding house he drove them up the hollow.

Rose didn't say anything as Forrest drove them to the store. His words pounded through her brain. He said he was taking her home.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, not wanting him to know she was watching him. She had never seen him without a jacket or over-shirt. His thin cotton undershirt was short sleeve, and the top two buttons were open. It was tight across his chest, shoulders and back. She tried not to notice the way his muscles corded where he gripped the steering wheel. He was thicker than his brothers, and a lot larger than he appeared. It suddenly felt intimate sitting in the near dark with him. She remembered the way he had looked at her at the platform, and how her heart had started to pound when she had been certain he was going to kiss her. But he hadn't.

She reached down and gripped the handle of her bag, wondering if she had made the right decision. She had her doubts when the train pulled away, but when she had seen Forrest waiting on the other side of the tracks... But now, as she climbed out of the truck and silently followed him inside she wasn't so sure. The store was dark, save a single lamp burning at the table by the counter. There she could see the books laid out, with a pen and an untouched open jar. So Forrest had been awake when he heard the train. She had never seen Forrest drink before and it made her wonder if he was drunk now.

Forrest picked up the lamp and moved silently across the floor and up the stairs. Rose hesitated for a moment at the bottom of the stairs. She had never been upstairs before.

Forrest must have noticed her hesitation because he came back down. "Lorelei," his voice was gentle. "Come on. You need to get some sleep."

Rose nodded and followed Forrest up the stairs. There were four door, three of them were closed. At the top of the stairs was a small nook with an old comfortable chair and floor to ceiling bookcases. For some reason the surprised Rose. She had always loved to read but it seemed like an odd thing for the boys to have. Forrest noticed her lingering glance and have her a tired smile. "Our mother loves to read to us," was all he said by way of explanation. Then he led her to the doorways at the end of the hall. One was open, she glanced inside but couldn't see much in the dark. "That's my room," he said quietly, Then he opened the remaining door in front of them.

It was a girl's room.

The walls were white washed and had framed watercolors of flowers and if she wasn't mistaken the creek in the fall. There was a small vanity in the corner with brushes and trinkets on top. The bed was wrought iron with a white blanket and matching sham trimmed in lace. These weren't things bought in Harken; they were expensive and looked like they came from a department store. There was a small pink and purple embroidered pillow sitting in the middle of the bed.

Forrest set her bag next to an upright dresser and placed the lamp on top. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a worn quilt. He set it on the bed. "In case you get cold."He said. "That blanket ain't the warmest."

He stood in the doorway as she moved silently around the room, taking everything in. There were two framed photos on the upright dresser. The first was of a beautiful woman and Rose could tell instantly the boys got their looks from their mother. She picked up the second photo and she realized it was a family portrait. She touched the face of the little girl sitting surrounded by her brothers, smiling even when everyone else was straight faced. She glanced at the man that was their father, but felt nothing but anger.

"This was Rosemary's room wasn't it?" she asked, knowing the answer. It looked as though it hadn't been touched in years.

Forrest swallowed hard, but could only nod. "If you need anything my room's across the hall," and he left her alone.