Filip smiled for a moment. Nadia was beautiful, but beyond that, there was something about her, a graciousness and a determination, that he admired. His smile faded. She was also desperate, and that was the only reason she was married to him, even temporarily. He may as well dream of being king of Czechoslovakia. That was about as likely as Nadia willingly building a home with him. The fact that it wouldn’t be a real home, just a flimsy teplushka shared with a least a dozen other couples, made a future with her that much more improbable. “I should make sure she made it back without running into the Cheka.”
“I’m sure Emil got her back safely, but by all means, go check on her.” Dalek slapped Filip’s shoulder and strode off, whistling as he walked.
Filip watched him go. They were packed tightly into the boxcar, more tightly now with the secret compartment eating away some of their space. He would have to limit the tossing and turning at night. But it was hard to sleep in the middle of revolutionary Russia. The Germans had stopped at the newly negotiated border, but trickles of released German, Austrian, and Hungarian POWs were starting to move west, more every day. They were unorganized and full of animosity, returning west to fight with the Central Powers again. The Czechs and Slovaks were rebelling, planning to fight against them. Tension between the two was thick enough to cut with a bayonet.
Then there was Nadia. Worry over her also cut into his sleep, and it would again if he didn’t know she was safe, so he went to the women’s train.
Four cars from his goal, he heard a low chuckle and stopped.
Zeman sauntered over to him. “Off to see your
“What do you want, Zeman?”
Zeman shrugged. “I’ve been talking with the Russians. One of them said he had a warrant for the execution of a family hiding near Piryatin. He found them easily enough. They were with a relative, but somehow, the twenty-year-old daughter escaped. It got me thinking. Piryatin, that’s where we were stationed before Bakhmach. And that’s where you gained that pretty little wife of yours.”
Filip wasn’t scared of Zeman, but he found his hand searching for the Beholla pistol he’d loaned Emil. “She’s from Petrograd, not Piryatin.”
“As was the family in question.”
“A lot of Russians have spent time in Petrograd, especially with the disruption the war has caused.”
Zeman didn’t reply at once. Filip waited for him to specify his threat or make a demand.
One side of Zeman’s mouth pulled into a sneer. “We’ve been ordered to stay neutral in Russian affairs. I don’t imagine our officers will look kindly on anyone harboring criminals.”
Nadia wasn’t a criminal. She was a refugee. Filip couldn’t ignore this, or Zeman would make it worse. He stepped to within inches of Zeman’s face. “The Penza Agreement places the entire legion—and everyone traveling with us—under safe passage, guaranteed by the Bolsheviks. You wouldn’t want to stir up trouble, would you?”
“I might.”
Filip slammed Zeman into a nearby teplushka, smashing the air from the man’s lungs with a satisfying whoosh. “Don’t make trouble for her, or you’ll regret it. I’m not the only one you’ll make into an enemy.”
Zeman’s sneer was gone, but anger showed in his eyes. Would he really destroy an innocent women just because he couldn’t have her?
Filip released him, and Zeman slunk away without another word. Filip had probably left bruises. Every time Zeman moved his shoulders for the next few days, he’d remember Filip’s threat.
But would that threat keep Nadia safe? Or had it made things worse? Marriage with Nadia was becoming more complicated by the hour.
He marched to the woman’s coach. When he arrived, the siding was shut, even though it seemed early for everyone to be sleeping; it was barely twilight. He knocked on the siding. “Nadia?”
“Filip?” The voice came not from inside the women’s coach but from beneath the one in front of it. He turned to see Nadia crawling out from under a boxcar.
“What are you doing under there? I thought Emil escorted you back?” Filip didn’t often yell at the men under his command, but Emil’s negligence was inexcusable. He’d give the lad an earful.
“He did. But Larisa and Petr wanted some time alone, and I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
“No. I’m wearing Dima’s jacket and the coat and hat you bought for me.” The fur cap lay at an angle, with stray bits of her black hair peeping out from under it. Her voice seemed shy, almost apologetic.
Did she think he was upset with her? He’d probably let too much of his anger at Zeman seep through. “Aren’t you bored just sitting there?”
“I’d rather be bored than run into the Cheka.”
Still frightened. That wasn’t what he wanted, but caution would help keep her safe. “Have you had supper yet?”
“No. They moved the trains about yesterday. I’m not sure where the dining car is now, and I didn’t want to blunder into one of the commissars.” She glanced at the coach. “Larisa said she’d show me where to go later.”