“It takes three hours to ride it,” she replied.
“And do you ride down there often just to look at the trains go by?”
“’Most every week, stranger,” she said softly.
Brainard whistled.
“What makes you do that?”
He could feel her toss her head. Her answer was vague.
“They’re goin’ somewheres.”
“And you want to go on them?”
“Perhaps. . . . I expect I shall some day.”
“Where?”