Nadia stayed with the men while they worked in their boxcar. The thud of hammers and the screech of wood being forced into place filled the air. The teplushka train car was smaller than the vast wall of her family’s manor, and the extra wall consisted of only three pieces, so the project took hours instead of the days it had taken the footman to hide the paintings.
When they finished, the interior of the boxcar was slightly smaller, but not enough for a searching Bolshevik to notice. Hidden behind the false wall were fifty rifles. They weren’t accessible in an instant, but in an emergency, Nadia imagined the soldiers could pull the wall down and have their weapons loaded in a matter of minutes.
“I’ll walk you back, Nadia, then I’ll talk to the lieutenant.” Filip dusted his hands off. “Will you come with me, Dalek? To see Kral?”
“Her carriage is the opposite direction from Kral’s.” Dalek folded his arms.
Filip cleared his throat. “A member of the Cheka has a warrant for her death. I don’t think she should wander the rail yards alone.”
“I can walk her back.” Emil gave Nadia a polite smile. “I barely know Kral, and I don’t know a thing about the Cheka. But I’ll see she arrives safely and that someone is there to be with her.”
Filip hesitated.
“The sooner we talk to Kral, the better chance we have of getting our commissar reassigned,” Dalek said.
“Nadia?” Filip looked to her to make the decision.
She was surprised he wanted her opinion and flustered to be the cause of such a fuss. She was more comfortable with Filip, but she didn’t want to be a nuisance. “I’m unspeakably grateful for all you’ve done for me. I would be happy to return to the women’s carriage with Mr. Horák if it makes it more likely that you can arrange to have Orlov moved elsewhere.”
Filip looked uncertain for a moment, then he nodded. “Right, we’ll go see Kral.” He jumped from the teplushka without using the steps and landed as easily as a cat might. Then he reached up to help her down. “I’m sorry we delayed the laundry. Thank you for the idea.” He nodded toward the boxcar.
“I’m glad I could help with something.” She couldn’t repay Filip’s kindness, but maybe her efforts would show how much she wished she could.
His face softened, and he offered a slight smile. She felt an urge to touch his lips or the stubble around them, but she kept her fingers safely at her side.
Dalek cleared his throat, and Filip’s expression turned impassive. He nodded his goodbye, and the two Czechs went to see their officer.
“I’m sorry to cause such trouble,” she told Emil. “But if the Cheka is nearby, I’m also grateful for your company.”
“I’m happy to help Corporal Sedlák or his wife.”
The two walked past several rail coaches full of soldiers. Some sang; others played cards. Several boxcars were painted with mountain scenes and forests, making a stroll along the train feel a bit like a walk through an art gallery.
“Have you known him long?” Filip was her husband, even if it was only for a few weeks, and she wanted to know more about him.
“Not any longer than you have. But he’s already managed to save my life. More than that, Corporal Sedlák gave me hope again. Not just for an end to war but for something better when peace comes. A country of our own. I don’t know if you can understand, but I grew up subject to German magistrates, always looked down on because I’m Slavic, constantly told my language and my culture were inferior. After that . . . well, Czechoslovakia is a vision worth fighting for.”
It seemed Nadia’s husband was an idealist with a gift for inspiring his men. “I’m surprised he’s been so kind to a former aristocrat.”
“I don’t think he minds that you were rich.” Emil chuckled. “Actually, I think he was frightened at the thought of you cutting your hair.”
Nadia’s hand went to her braid. Was Emil suggesting that her husband liked her hair? There was something satisfying in that, but it also made her worry. She’d trusted Filip’s judgment, but now she wasn’t so sure. Was it really safe for her to leave it long? Perhaps the scarf would be enough. She’d put one on the next time she left the women’s van.
A figure loomed in front of them, but he wore a normal Russian uniform with the legion’s ribbon, not the black leather of the Cheka. Jakub Zeman.
He sneered at her. “So, you married Sedlák, and now you’re the common property of his squad? Is that how it works?” His tone and the accompanying gestures hinted at something horrifyingly lewd.
Emil took a step toward Zeman, then planted his feet in a wide stance. He had to look up to Zeman, but that didn’t soften the hard expression on his face. “Everyone in our squad treats Mrs. Sedláková with the utmost respect, Corporal Zeman. I suggest you do the same.”
“It’s a new age. I don’t have to show respect to anyone who hasn’t earned it, and that includes Corporal Sedlák and his
“You’d be dead if Corporal Sedlák hadn’t taken that machine-gun nest at Bakhmach. You owe him your life.”