Snowflakes hissed against the locomotive like spent souls

spinning into hell. Black smoke rising from the funneled

stack presaged the coming night to the six short, wooden

passenger cars it covered. Steam from a hundred loose

fittings wrapped the legs of well-wishers come to wave good-

bye in fleeting wet warmth as the conductor bellowed

and stepped aboard, swung his lamp, and closed the door

against the cold wind. And at last, the whistle shrieked over

the ominous, exciting thud of pistons driving the great

wheels and the squeal of iron on iron in the excruciatingly

slow transition from dead stop to barely moving.

No one had come to wave good-bye to the woman who

settled into the third seat in the second car. Lines of weari-

ness marred her strong, sensuous face and made her look

older than her twenty years. White gold hair with the

merest miraculous hint of auburn, untamed by pins and

ribbons, spilled from underneath her wool bonnet and

cascaded down her neck and shoulders like a sunrise.

Heavily dressed against the cold, only her face was visible.

Only later, when the stoves at either end of the drafty car

chased the heaviest chill from the air, did she remove her

scarf and open her coat to reveal a heavy, dark green

velvet dress that couldn t totally disguise the delicate, sweet

curves of her body.

Wind-driven snow rushed by outside the window. The

woman stared slightly up and to her right at the swaying

lantern. A drummer seated across the aisle buried himself

in a newspaper and tried not to look at her. Two seats

ahead, unnoticed by her, a small boy peered over the back

~i~seat. The lantern swayed, the stoves glowed a bright,

almost Useless red, the wheels underneath went clunkety-

clunk, clunkety-clunk. The sound faded when the train

went over a trestle, then returned in full force, reflected

upward by the frozen ground.