Riding the Rails

by Amelia C. Adams

  “I didn’t know how many other people my choice would impact,” Mercy said. “I just needed to get away. I . . .” She twisted her hands together in her lap, not wanting to say anything, but feeling as though she ought to explain. “My options were limited,” she said at last. “I was being forced into a lifestyle I didn’t want, and if I hadn’t run away right at that moment . . .”

  Mrs. Olson leaned over and gave her a little squeeze. “All that’s behind you now. The only thing you should be thinking about is your future, and I believe your future holds a nap.”

  Mercy smiled, feeling the woman’s sincerity not only in her hug, but in her expression. “A nap does sound nice,” she admitted. “I didn’t think I’d be tired again so soon after that wonderful night’s sleep, but I am.”

  “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Go lie down for a while and don’t worry about how long you sleep. Your body will tell you when you’ve had enough, and if it takes all day, well, I’m sure Patty and I will find ways to keep ourselves busy.”

  Mercy couldn’t help the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes at the offering of friendship and understanding. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

  “Not to worry. Get along with you.”

  Mercy climbed the stairs and loosened the buttons at her waist, then lay down and stared at the ceiling. Was this too good to be true? Would there be some horrible price to pay for all the kindness she was receiving? Her life so far had taught her that nothing came free, and yet these people weren’t asking anything in return. Were there really people so kind in this world?

  She reached out and picked up her locket from where she’d left it on the dresser. Squeezing it tightly until she could feel it digging into her palm, she closed her eyes. “Can I trust these people, Mother?” she whispered. Of course no one answered, but she felt warm inside, as though someone was watching over her. Just her imagination, but what a nice thing to pretend as she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Four

  “Oh, that poor sweet girl,” Merriweather Maine said, popping up at Heston’s elbow and nearly making him drive off the road. “So very alone in this world.”

  Heston took a deep breath to still his rattled nerves. “Good morning,” he managed.

  “And good morning to you too! Isn’t it a lovely day? I always feel like just about anything can happen on a day like this.” Mrs. Maine looked around and gave a contented sigh. “You’re doing such a wonderful job with Mercy, Mr. Granger. In fact, you’re filling the role of her guardian angel quite nicely. I’m starting to wonder if I’m needed at all.”

  “I’m not a guardian angel,” Heston protested. “I’m just . . .”

  “You’re a kind person who saw someone in need, and you’re doing what you can to fill that need,” Mrs. Maine said. “Isn’t that the definition of a guardian angel? The earthly sort, that is, rather than the heavenly sort?”

  “I . . . I never thought about it that way,” he replied. He glanced sideways, trying to get a better look at her. He’d only seen her in the dark the night before, and he’d wondered if he’d imagined what she looked like. No, she was still just as pretty and blonde, but today her dress was yellow instead of blue.

  “Well, you should. I was having a conversation the other day with my colleagues, and we were discussing this very thing. If more people were to look around and notice the needs of their neighbors, and then if they used their resources to help, the world would be such a nicer place. Heaven and earth would be working together for the good of all mankind. Just think of it—each person reaching beyond themselves to bless the lives of others.” She gave another happy sigh. “I truly believe that’s what life is all about—sharing our joy. Don’t you think?”

  “I never thought about that either.” Heston shook his head. “I’m not sure whether you’re here to help Mercy or to befuddle me, Mrs. Maine.”

  “If I manage to do both, I’ll consider it a job extra well done.” She smiled at him brightly. “Are you a little more inclined now to believe that I’m an angel? I know you struggled with that concept last night. I do understand, though—you were quite exhausted.”

  “Yes, I struggled, but I think I’m coming around now. It doesn’t make any logical sense, but I can’t come up with another explanation for how you’re able to appear and disappear and whatnot.”

  “I’m glad you’re not questioning your sanity. I’m told a great many people do that, and it seems a waste of time.” She paused. “Oh, no! Oh, this is terrible!”

  “What’s the matter?” He looked over at her anxiously.

  “I forgot. How could I do that?” Her eyes were wide. “I was supposed to send Mr. Medina a dream about his childhood last night that would put him in an especially good mood today. That was to help you get the time off you need to take Mercy to Denver. I knew I should have written it down . . . Oh, I should never rely on my memory.”

  “I’m sure it will be all right. Mr. Medina owes me some time off anyway.”

  “Yes, that’s true, but I was supposed to make things even easier.” She let out a puff of air. “Just more evidence that you’re a better angel than I am. What if I don’t get another assignment after this? What if I’ve messed up so horribly, they decide not to give me another chance?”

  “They could do that?” Heston wasn’t sure who “they” were, but they sounded a bit persnickety to him. “They wouldn’t let you go for such little things, would they?”

  “They might, especially if I keep it up.” She looked sheepish. “I’ve forgotten some other things too, but I won’t give you the full list because it would be too embarrassing. Let’s just say, I’m not the most reliable guardian angel there’s ever been.”

  “But you’re not making mistakes on purpose. Surely there’s credit given for your good intentions.”

  “Oh, of course. And I don’t mean to make them sound mean or unfair. It’s just that I’ve tested their patience so much by now, I’m not sure how much farther they’re willing to go with me.” She looked down at her clasped hands. “I’ve struggled to find my place, you see. My talents . . . well, they aren’t ordinary, and things that other people find easy are hard for me.”

  “I’d think that makes you special.” Heston slowed the horse and guided it around the corner to the train station, glad they were almost there. He wanted to speak with Mr. Medina as soon as possible so he’d know what to plan for.

  “Aren’t you the sweetest? What a kind thing to say.” She reached over and patted his arm. “Now, in case you’re wondering, you’re the only one who can see me, so you might want to stop looking over here at me. Your boss might wonder if you’re tetched in the head.”

  “I’ve wondered that myself a great number of times in the last twelve hours,” Heston said with a laugh. “But point taken.”

  He drove the wagon around to the back of the station, pausing when he saw the line of cows tied up to the fence. He’d forgotten all about them.

  Taking a moment to loosen the harness, he allowed the horse a bit of freedom while still keeping it ready to be put into use if needed. Then he hauled some buckets of water over to the cows, shaking his head.

  “Good morning, Heston,” Mr. Medina said as Heston approached the ticket booth a few minutes later. “Ready for another busy day?”

  “Yes, sir. No luck with the cows, I see.”

  “None. I’ve sent Willie Meeks around to inquire of everyone he runs into—if we can’t find this Mr. Yoder by evening, I’ll send a telegram to the cows’ former owner and see if he’ll claim them. I meant what I said—I will sell them if it comes right down to it. This is quite a pickle to be in.”

  “Agreed.” Heston glanced around and noticed Barney already at work cutting back the long grasses that grew along the edges of the platform. Tess Palmer, the cleaning lady, was shining up the windows, humming as she worked. Knowing they were on task made Heston feel less guilty about his next request. “Mr. Medina, I have a friend who will be traveling t
o Denver within the next couple of days, and I’d like to escort her there safely. Could I arrange for some time off?”

  Mr. Medina looked surprised. “Time off? I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words from you, have I?”

  “No, sir. I don’t believe I’ve ever asked for any.”

  Mr. Medina pursed his lips. “Then I’d say you were due. Did you have a time in mind?”

  “I’d like to go as soon as possible, but I thought I’d check with you and see if there was a day that was better than another.”

  “Good man.” Mr. Medina grabbed his book and pulled it closer. “I think tomorrow should be all right. Just over two hundred and fifty miles . . . It’ll take you twenty-four hours to get there, figuring in all the stops. You could overnight at one of the stations, or ride through . . .” He sounded far away as he calculated. “Let’s say you have seven days off, shall we? Two days for travel and two days there, with a few extra days because you’ve earned them?”

  Heston grinned. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

  Mr. Medina shook his head. “I’m not sure how we’ll get along without you, but we’ll do our best. Will you want the first train tomorrow, then?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll make sure you have a voucher.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Heston kept grinning as he fetched the broom and began to sweep up the platform to get ready for the first train. That had gone well, even though Mrs. Maine had forgotten to send the dream, and now he’d be able to see Mercy to Denver safely. He still didn’t want her to go, but he wouldn’t stand in her way. He had the feeling that she’d been told what to do far too often in her life, and he wanted things to be her choice from then on.

  He just wished she was choosing to stay.

  If she did stay, though, would she find what she was looking for in Creede? He didn’t think it would be difficult to get a job, and she could likely stay with Widow Olson until she could afford a more permanent place. There would be plenty of lady friends—all she’d have to do was wander into the tea shop on a Tuesday and she’d be welcomed right into the heart of Creede’s female society. It was becoming somewhat of a running joke, actually, how the ladies of Creede gathered there and arranged matches and apparently solved mysteries and probably ran the government, too. She’d like having friends, he imagined.

  But that would only happen if she stayed, and she wasn’t planning to stay.

  He hoped she’d be able to find good friends in Denver, ladies who would keep her company and lend her books and take her along to the theater. If she liked those things. She hadn’t said, but he sensed that she did. She’d immerse herself in the finer things in life and learn all she could about art and culture. She was hungry to learn—that was another thing he’d sensed. There was so much that she wasn’t saying, but he seemed to understand her regardless. Almost as if their souls were speaking to each other.

  He shook his head. First he was seeing angels, and now he was ruminating about souls? He’d better be careful—he was becoming far more religious than he’d intended to be. Not that it was a bad thing—just surprising. He didn’t think he had much room in his life for such things.

  He finished sweeping the platform and put the broom away, then made sure there were no bits of paper or trash blown up against the side of the station. Depending on which way the wind had blown during the night, he could find any quantity of garbage there, and it made the station look dirty and ill-kept when it really wasn’t. Then it would be time for the train to come and he’d be able to occupy his mind with things other than angels and mystical goings-on. Those were quite exhausting.

  But then he started thinking about Mercy Davis again, and that was quite exhausting too. What was it about her that intrigued him so much? He had to admit, he admired her spunk—not every girl would have hopped aboard a train car full of cows. She had taken the initiative to create a better life for herself, and she was willing to do whatever it took to succeed in that goal.

  He wondered if he would have that same kind of courage. He’d had a few rough patches in his life, but nothing that had ever forced him to fight for his independence or his livelihood. His parents were both still living—they’d chosen to stay in Vermont when he’d decided he’d like to see the west, and he wrote them every month. What an easy life he’d lived compared to Mercy’s. He almost felt guilty for the relative ease of his situation.

  The first train of the day rolled in, and he got to work loading and unloading the luggage. It was a mindless task, but something that required his physical energy, and it felt good to stop thinking for a few minutes and relax into the repetition of a well-known routine. The rest of the day went on much the same, with occasional lulls during which he would check on the cows and make sure they were all right.

  Around three o’clock in the afternoon, Willie Meeks, the boy who did odd jobs around town, showed up at the ticket booth, a little out of breath.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Medina, but no one knows anything about a Mr. Yoder,” he said. “I asked everyone I saw, and I went into lots of places, too.”

  “That’s disappointing.” Mr. Medina fished in his pocket and pulled out some coins. “Here you are, Willie. Thank you for your help.”

  “Any time, Mr. Medina.” Willie gave a nod, then turned to leave.

  “Hold up there a moment, Willie. Let me have you send a telegram for me—I thought I’d wait until this evening, but if you’ve had no luck whatsoever finding this man, there’s no reason for me to wait.” Mr. Medina grabbed a slip of paper, wrote out a message, and handed it to Willie, along with a few more coins. “Tell Mr. Jameson I’d appreciate knowing the moment I have a reply.”

  “Yes, sir,” Willie said, giving a nod. “Anything else?”

  “No, I think I can actually let you leave now,” Mr. Medina said with a chuckle.

  Nothing else of any excitement or importance happened the remainder of the day, and when Heston’s shift ended, he made his way back to Mrs. Olson’s, eager to see what Mercy had been up to. He remembered how pretty she’d looked at breakfast that morning—she seemed uncomfortable in a dress, and he wondered when she’d last worn one. Had she been forced to dress like a boy for long, or was it just for this trip to Denver?

  She was sitting on the front porch enjoying the sunset when he arrived, and he paused for a moment so he could soak in the picture she created just by leaning against the railing, letting the breeze play with her hair. He wished there was a way to capture that moment, complete with the breeze and all.

  “Hello,” she called out when she finally noticed him, and he lifted a hand in greeting.

  “Hello. Have you had a nice day?”

  “The very best. I took a nap after breakfast, and then Patty showed me how to make strawberry tarts to go with our lunch, and I read for a little while this afternoon. I did help a bit with the laundry, but for the most part, I’ve had a perfectly lovely lazy day.”

  “Tarts and laundry? Doesn’t sound very lazy to me.”

  “Well, considering how hard Patty worked, I was definitely lazy.” Mercy stood up and opened the door. “Come inside and have some dinner.”

  “Oh, I don’t mean to intrude—”

  “Don’t be silly. Patty’s been planning on it. She says that until I leave, she’ll just expect you to be here at mealtimes—except lunch, of course, because of work.”

  Heston scuffed his toe on the floor of the porch. “If you’re sure—”

  “I’m sure. Now, come inside before I let the flies in.”

  Heston didn’t continue to argue. Instead, he followed Mercy inside, where the rich aroma of herbed chicken greeted his nose, and his mouth began to water.

  “And there’s fresh biscuits, too,” Patty said by way of greeting him. She really couldn’t have chosen more welcoming words.

  “You’re too good to me,” he replied. “May I go wash before I sit down?”

  “Of course!” She nodded toward the kitchen do
or, and he stepped outside to find the pump. It seemed he wasn’t only blessing Mercy’s life by bringing her here, but he’d get some good meals in the bargain. He didn’t know what the bill would be when all was said and done, but he’d find a way to pay it. He had some savings—not a huge amount, but enough, he was sure. Mercy was worth it, whatever the cost.

  ***

  “We can leave in the morning?” Mercy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was like she’d stumbled out of a nightmare and into a perfect dream when she’d arrived in Creede—well, after she’d washed off the scent of cow manure. Everything had gone her way, even down to the strawberry tarts. She’d tasted one once when she was nine years old, and having another one brought her back to a time when she hadn’t yet realized how harsh the world could be.

  “We can—the first train. Can you be ready to leave here at seven? I’ll come by and collect you.”

  “Absolutely.” Mercy couldn’t help it—she clasped her hands together and bounced in her chair just a little bit. So close—she was so close to seeing the fulfillment of her dreams.

  Heston chuckled. “I can see that you’re excited.”

  “I can’t even explain how excited I am. Thank you for this, Heston—you’ve made so many things possible for me. I’ll never be able to repay your kindness.”

  “Real kindness doesn’t have to be repaid,” Patty said, placing a tray on the table. “Mr. Granger just wants to see you happy.”

  “And I will be—I know it.” Mercy gave him a smile, but she saw only a shadow in his eyes. Something was troubling him, but now didn’t seem like the right time to ask. Or perhaps there wouldn’t be a right time—they didn’t know each other well enough to expect to trade confidences so easily.

  Patty bustled around, setting more food on the table, and a moment later, another man and a woman walked in and joined them.

  “We’re the Ashtons,” the woman said. “We’re just traveling through on our way to California.”

  “I believe we saw you at the station earlier,” Mr. Ashton said, looking toward Heston.