“You already took them. We handed over the allotted amount in Penza. And the last three stations we’ve passed through have wanted even more.”
“You have more. You’re hiding them.” Zeman clenched his jaw. “Sedlák. He’s behind this, isn’t he? Well, I know how to hurt him.”
Anton didn’t have to guess at Zeman’s meaning, especially not when Zeman looked toward Orlov. Anton had to do something, fast. “Haven’t you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“She died.” Anton hoped he could pull off such a blatant lie. He believed in honesty, but he also believed in helping others, and in this moment, that seemed the more important of his principles. “Came down with something—influenza or typhoid. Nasty way to go.”
“But I saw her in Penza.”
“You’ve seen how quickly typhoid ravages people. Happened all the time in the camps. Don’t suppose someone who grew up like she did could adjust to a hard life.”
Zeman’s face was sober, briefly. “How did Sedlák take it?”
Did that mean Zeman believed she was dead? “Not very well.”
Zeman grunted. “Serves him right for stealing her. And serves her right for living off the work of the proletariat for so long.”
Only after Zeman and Orlov moved their search to the next boxcar did Anton go looking for Filip and Nadia. He didn’t expect to find them easily because he’d sent Veronika to warn them, so they’d be hiding. He found his wife first, working on the laundry.
“What happened?” she asked.
“They didn’t find our weapons. And I told Zeman that Mrs. Sedláková died of typhoid.”
Vernonika’s eyebrows went up. “Did you tell them she caught it on the hospital train?”
“I’m not that foolish. If they knew she was working there, they might poke around and ask inconvenient questions.”
Veronika wrung out a newly washed pair of trousers. “I didn’t know you were such a convincing liar. Do you lie often?”
“Of course not. This was a special situation. And Zeman wanted to believe it. Filip won a bride at his expense, so he wants him to suffer. And now that he’s a committed Bolshevik, he welcomes the demise of a former noble.”
“You know what I’ll welcome? A home of our own. But I’d settle for half a boxcar.”
Anton liked most of the men in his boxcar, but he felt the same way. Living apart from his wife when they were so near was a form of torture. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Someday, we’ll have a real home. It will have large windows and running water and flowers. And it will be in a free country that we can call our own.”
***
The legion’s hospital car was a far cry from the Petrograd officer’s hospital where Nadia had volunteered earlier in the war. And yet, the work was still satisfying, maybe more so because the patients were in such need. A few of the casualties were from the fighting around Bakhmach, but most of the patients were ill rather than wounded. The prison camps had left them with fragile health, and that seemed to slow their recovery.
Nadia changed the bandages on a wounded soldier’s leg, then looked up to see Filip. “I’m almost finished,” she called to him. When Orlov was assigned as their train’s commissar, Filip had started escorting her back to the women’s coach at the end of her shifts. When he couldn’t make it, he sent Emil or Dalek.
She wore no uniform, so when she finished, she washed her hands and hung her apron. Vanity—and Filip—made her wish for a mirror. She had no idea how presentable she was or wasn’t. She retied her kerchief and joined her husband. “How was your day?”
“We had to surrender more weapons.” His voice had an edge to it, but the anger and frustration weren’t directed at her.
“That happened to us in Petrograd and at our manor. They left us the musket my great-great-grandfather carried to Borodino, but they took everything else. With the peasants demanding land and the Bolsheviks stirring up trouble, it felt as if one wrong move or one bit of ill luck would be the end of us.”
“That’s how I feel now,” Filip said. “But it doesn’t have to be like that. We’ve almost fifty thousand men in the legion. If we weren’t spread all across Russia, we could keep our weapons, and if anyone objected, we could fight our way through.” He shook his head. “Or we could have if we’d taken that strategy in Penza. Now I’m not sure we have the weapons for it.”
“Filip!” They turned at the familiar voice. Dalek rushed to catch up to them.
“What is it?” Filip asked.
“Kral is to be a delegate at a Czechoslovak Congress in Chelyabinsk. He wants you to go with him.”
Filip frowned. “Me? Why me?”
Nadia wondered the same thing. With Filip gone, who would she turn to if she needed help? Veronika was a friend, and Nadia trusted her, but the woman wasn’t armed.
Dalek grinned. “He wants to make sure whatever they decide is clearly articulated. So he’s taking the most thickheaded man in the Sixth Regiment to test the wording. If you can understand it, anyone can.”
“Be serious, Dalek.”
“Because you’ve a little more battle experience than most of us. He trusts your judgment.”