Jonas Howe stepped back as the compartment door opened and Penny floated into the corridor. "Oops, sorry!" She flashed her trademark smile and tilted her head so that the hair drifted across one eye.

"No harm, ma'am. You headin' that way?" He pointed with his chin toward the next car.

"Is that the lounge?"

"I believe so."

"Then that's where I'm headed." She used the phrase with a touch of country hoping to impress him. Jonas smiled with just the corner of his mouth and waited. "Right then. Off we go." Penny strutted away, not happy with her apparent lack of impact.

"Didn't you lose a cousin or someone in this business?" She tossed the question over her shoulder using her concerned acquaintance voice.

"And a sister." Came the quiet reply.

"Oh. I am sorry. I lost a brother and an uncle. This whole circumstance is just so awful." She slowed as they reached the end of the car allowing him to reach past and shove the sliding door aside.

"Careful goin' across the platform," he cautioned, taking her lightly by the arm.

Penny looked down at the swaying steel floor and the gap between the cars and suddenly felt nauseous; her slim-heeled shoes felt in danger of slipping into the space that kept shifting. Without permission, Jonas took her by both elbows and lifted her across the gap, setting her down with a slight squeal against the door of the lounge car.

"You're fine, ma'am. Just takes some getting' used to." He slid the door open and Penny stumbled through backwards, the sensation of his rough hands on her elbows still pronounced. She took a breath and turned to face the interior, noticing immediately that several people were watching her entrance and immediately she reverted to stage star with head and chest high and a smile to light the room.

Jonas was a semi-retired farmer, quiet, calm and observant. The heartless, cruel killing of his young cousin had burned deeply into his soul and a quiet rage smoldered behind the weathered face of fine lines and pale blue, puppy mournful eyes. With the additional loss of his only important companion, his sister, he had to fight back his somewhat rudderless feeling, and with a quiet effort set his attention on the group gathering in the lounge car.

Jonas was only along because he felt he owed his sister and cousin the respect of seeing their murderer brought to justice and to quiet the rage in his own heart. Howden had slammed hard up against his brick wall refusal of trying for compensation.

Hannah Bellows sat on her bunk sniffling into a lace hanky. They hadn't been in the compartment five minutes before her sister Jean made an excuse to go out, leaving her to unpack and organize the room. Hannah knew where her sister had gone. When they first arrived at the station she was all awhirl over the good-looking young man in the stylish western jacket and hat.

Peter Soughton was an official representative of the government and a doctor of some kind to boot and Hannah felt it was a rude breach of his position to engage her sister in such a blatant display of flirting, particularly as she was one of the victims in the case. Nevertheless, beneath her position of offense she secretly envied the ease with which Jean acquired admirers like some people took deep breaths.

Now she was left to imagine her sister exploiting such daring possibilities.

Peter grunted as he struggled to balance himself against the lavatory door while maintaining his grip on the ample hips of this most willing of females. The rocking of the train and the backward thrusting of his partner made the experience both exhilarating and painful and Peter found her enthusiasm driving the action toward the latter.

The simple act of eye contact on the platform and a few accidental bumps and touches had taken Peter completely by surprise when he answered the knock on his door and was greeted with an instant, hungrily demanding kiss.

"Uff- Miss Bello- Jean- ooohhh, enough, okay? We should be joining-oooff- the others...aaaagghhh!"

"You mean start our own train." She laughed wickedly and rammed back against his stomach with such force the lavatory door flew open and he crashed back against the edge of the sink.

"Ooooh, Jesus! Ohh my back!"

Jean pulled backward and stood up, dropping her skirt and adjusting her blouse before turning to face him. "Quitter," she teased, pecking him on the cheek and leaving him to his agony.

Peter staggered to the bunk and eased himself down, one hand jammed against the pain in his back. She was gone like it had been no more than a visit from a door-to-door salesperson. No conversation. Neither explanation nor recrimination. Nothing... not even a thank you. He rocked forward with a grunt as the train entered a long curve and his mind flashed on the possible ramifications of getting involved with one of the trial victims, ruefully considering the trade-off for his current suffering.

"I know where you were, Jean and I think it's disgusting when we're on a mission to honour our grandparents." Hannah began as soon as her sister entered the compartment. She frowned at the amused sneer and the casual poking about of hair in the mirror.

"Life goes on, Hannah. Don't try and drag me into your morbid bereavement. We saw them what, twice in the last ten years? Give me a break, sister dear."

"They're still family, Jean. You should have a little more respect."

"You should have a little more of what I have, Hannah, it would put some light in your eyes for a change or soften that stick you have up your backside. Might even get your knees from rubbing each other raw. I'm going to the lounge are you coming?" Without waiting, Jean jabbed a finger in her hair once more and flounced out of the compartment.

Hannah followed her out, locking the door and shaking her head with a mixture of anger and envy at the creases in the back of Jean's skirt. True, they hadn't been very close with their grandparents, but still Hannah felt a familial obligation to their memory, even if the lure of possible compensation was the prime driver, and with each of her sister's laissez-faire displays, she grew more determined to see justice done.