Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(34)
“Sadly, no,” Dimitri replied. “I have been alone since the tragic loss of my fiancée many years ago.”
The girl oozed empathy and begged for the story. Natalia held her breath as Dimitri spoke of Olga, a woman as lovely as the moon to whom he was engaged to marry since childhood. Tragic fate separated them many years ago, but after she became widowed last year, he believed they might marry at last.
“Alas!” Dimitri said with typical flair. “I am now in exile, and fate has separated me from Olga yet again.”
“Can’t she join you here in America?” the girl asked.
Natalia leaned forward to listen in, but the blast of the train whistle as they approached another town completely obscured Dimitri’s response.
Who was Olga? Why had he never spoken of her during their years of correspondence? Not that she cared, of course. Dimitri probably had dozens of women scattered across the mighty Russian empire, all of whom deluded themselves into thinking they were special to him.
Dimitri charmed every female he met on the train, but it wasn’t only women he befriended. At dinner she saw him chatting with a group of traveling salesmen by the bar. He dined like a king and flirted like a reprobate. He drank with fellow passengers in the dining car and played card games with ladies in the parlor car.
One evening she saw him indulging in foul-scented cigars with a group of men. He wore a navy pinstripe suit with the gold waistcoat. To her annoyance, the impractical garment looked like the epitome of elegance on him.
“I thought you didn’t smoke?” she said.
He blew out a stream of sickeningly sweet tobacco. “These are imported from Vladivostok. I felt compelled to share my good fortune with my new friends. Join us! I shall even extinguish my cigar on your behalf.”
She declined and retreated to the parlor car to read a report on the timber industry, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it was for Dimitri to make friends. She needed to stop feeling special for the unique relationship she’d cultivated with him during all those telegram messages, because she was obviously just one of the multitudes he befriended wherever he went. It didn’t matter that he invited her to join him each time he spotted her on the train. He certainly hadn’t fought very hard for her when she refused.
The only time he insisted on her company was during the railway stops, when passengers could disembark for an hour while the train refueled. The stations always had a retail area offering trinkets, a café, and a Western Union telegraph window.
At each stop he nagged Natalia to wire her father about canceling the upcoming infusion of funds to the railroad, and each time she refused.
“Time is growing short,” he said. “If the April payment is halted, it will cause a crisis when the steel deliveries fail to arrive. That is exactly what we need to get the czar’s attention.”
“Which is why I will be sure the payment is delivered on time,” she said primly and pretended not to notice the burning look of disappointment on Dimitri’s face as she returned to the train.
The impasse with Natalia was driving Dimitri insane. Her reluctance to disrupt the railroad was understandable, but didn’t she realize that he was compelled to act? Each day the Trans-Siberian laid additional miles of track, driving farther eastward toward rural villages that might trigger more bloodshed if the 1858 treaty with China was not honored. He could force the czar to affirm that treaty, but not without Natalia’s help.
On the third day, the train arrived at the inappropriately named town of Springville, Utah. It was a bleak, windswept place with a light dusting of snow blowing down the barren main street. Refueling would take an hour, giving Dimitri time to explore these different places in America. Although San Francisco had been a chaotic shock to his system, Utah felt familiar. High, windy, and frozen. He liked it.
Natalia burrowed into her coat, a sour expression on her face as they headed toward the station shop. Their boots made hollow thuds on the plank walkway, and as expected, a signpost indicated a telegraph station was inside the shop. He had given up hope that Natalia would wire her father to halt the payment due at the end of the week, so he took a bold stance.
“Let me wire him,” he said. “I shall instruct him on what needs to be done to stop the railroad.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dimitri, everyone in my family already thinks you are insane. Please don’t provide them with additional confirmation by suggesting my father destroy the Trans-Siberian Railway.”
She continued scanning the assortment of goods for sale behind a storefront window, but he considered her words, not sure he understood her correctly.
“What do you mean, they think I am insane?”
“They’ve seen the telegrams you send me, going on for hours about the color of the sunset or the howling of the wind. They think you’ve lost your mind.”
Dimitri looked away. All these years he had poured out his soul to Natalia because they were kindred spirits. He wanted to share the terrible beauty of the Russian winter and the frustrated dreams he nurtured in his lonely isolation.
He tried to sound as if he didn’t care. “You don’t think that about me, do you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said dismissively. “I’ve got better things to do than tend your wounded ego. Would you like some cedar nuts?”
He blanched at the sight of the barrel brimming with the nuts that sustained him for months in the wilderness. He doubted he could choke down another cedar nut to save his life.