Alice climbed into the carriage and arranged her skirts. She picked up the Sears, Roebuck catalog, but it seemed to have lost some of its allure for now. “Pa says automobiles break down all the time and don’t go any faster than a horse trots. This Jackson guy has thousands of miles to travel in order to drive from California to New York. Especially if he goes north into Oregon. Isn’t that the wrong direction?”
“He wants to avoid the taller Sierra Mountains of California where there’s still snow,” Cora said. As she spoke, she picked up the San Francisco newspaper again and sucked in a huge breath. “This first article was dated the twenty-third of May and today’s the twenty-ninth. I have no idea of where Jackson is after six days. How far do you think he could make it in six days?”
“I have no idea,” Alice said. “Probably not very far.”
“Let’s stop by the newspaper office before we head home. Surely Mr. Weston will know where Jackson is!”
“Oh, great idea!” Alice said.
The Clover Creek Weekly was a small local newspaper that ran a few ads, a smidgeon of national news, and a fair amount of local news. The newspaper office boasted the only telephone in Clover Creek. The owner, Mr. Weston, had moved to the area with his family three years ago, and Cora wasn’t surprised at Alice’s quick response to stopping by the office. The Westons had a good-looking son about Alice’s age.
“Yes, I know about this new attempt to cross the country in an automobile,” Mr. Weston said after Cora showed him the article in the San Francisco newspaper. “It’s not really what I consider news at this time. Hardly anyone thinks he’ll succeed. Why, he’s going north out of California instead of heading east. Doesn’t make a lick of sense. According to the reports I’ve seen, this Jackson fellow is holed up in northern California in a little town called Alturas. He’s waiting for new tires because his tires are worn out. He’s already broke down more than once besides having tire troubles.”
“It’s no wonder the guy’s shredding his tires,” Jake Weston said. The younger Weston walked out of the back room. He wore the black garters of a pressman on the upper sleeves of his white shirt like his father and took the time to flash a dimpled smile at Cora and Alice. “I’m sure the roads in northern California are rutted and covered with jagged rocks and boulders. Isn’t that just mountain and timber country over that way, Pa?”
“Sure is,” Mr. Weston said, nodding. “The mountains aren’t as high up there as the Sierras, but if this guy makes it into Oregon, it’ll be a miracle.”
“Are you going to start following his journey in your newspaper?” Cora asked.
“Doubt it. But if he does happen to get close to Idaho, now that would be another matter. Then I might start writing about his adventure.”
“He’ll do it,” Cora said, looking Mr. Weston directly in the eye. “I know he will.”
“She has money riding—”
Cora cut her sister off. “Can we come by in a day or two and see if he made it out of California?” she asked.
“Of course!” Mr. Weston said. “Anytime. I’ve met the man who runs the newspaper in Alturas. Perhaps I’ll call him on the telephone to see what’s going on. Now you’ve got me interested in following these two men.”
On the way home in the carriage, Cora scolded her sister. “Please don’t go telling anyone that I made a bet with Gideon about Jackson’s cross-country automobile adventure. You know Ma and Pa would disapprove. Gideon just made me so mad though! He won’t listen to reason.”
“Sorry,” Alice said. “But what if Gideon tells people about your bet?”
“He won’t.” Cora sighed as she looked out over a freshly plowed field that smelled like clean earth. “Gideon may be stuck in the past when it comes to progress, but he won’t say anything to discredit my reputation. Gideon is a true gentleman.”
“I can tell you like him a lot, but what if he won’t open his mind to change?”
“I don’t know, Alice. I do like Gideon a lot, but I can’t abide a man with a closed mind.”
2
All afternoon, Gideon Lewis regretted his exchange with Cora. She was so in love with the automobile, but she didn’t realize that she would probably never own one of the contraptions. They cost more than the average man made in a year. Even Mr. Jepson, the owner of the mercantile and one of the most prominent men in Clover Creek hadn’t splurged on a horseless carriage.
It bothered Gideon that Cora thought he should jump onto the automobile fixation that was starting to take place across the nation. She thought he should pursue making a living by means of the horseless carriage. Build them, repair them, sell them. She had been making the suggestions for months. But Gideon considered himself an artisan, a skilled craftsman like his father and grandfathers before him. And he was a practical man, much like his father and Mr. Jepson. Wagons and carriages had been around for hundreds of years, and Gideon had no doubt they would continue to serve people for years to come. All the orders for the new postal wagons that his family had received proved that.
Untying his leather apron, Gideon threw it aside, stalked over to the pasture, and whistled for his favorite gelding. He needed to sort out his feelings, and there was nothing like a country ride on Thor to help him. In a matter of minutes, Thor was trotting down the road toward Gideon’s favorite swimming hole. Once they reached the edge of the wheelwright property line, Gideon leaned down and rubbed Thor’s neck before relaxing his hold on the reins. Thor immediately moved into a canter and then took off at a gallop. They didn’t slow down until they neared a grassy cove surrounded by cottonwood trees.
While Thor munched on the grass under the shade of the trees, Gideon sat on a boulder and leaned forward, thinking and watching as the water rippled by. A few dragonflies hovered above the water and he could hear the song of a meadowlark nearby. Gideon, not tall, but lean and strong, picked up a few pebbles and skipped them across the water. What really made no sense to him was Cora’s difficult attitude. No one in Clover Creek owned an automobile and probably never would, so why did she pester Gideon to switch to making a living by means of the automobile? Her enthusiasm for the automobile wasn’t Gideon’s only concern. Her way of thinking had spilled over to some of the young people in the community, especially to a few of the young men who would love to edge Gideon out as Cora’s favorite dance partner.
Gideon smiled as he thought of the Saturday night dance and holding Cora in his arms. He might not agree with Cora’s thinking that the automobile was the future, but he certainly wanted his future to be with her. He needed to stop arguing with her.
Otherwise, he might lose her.
The very thought of losing the feisty surveyor’s daughter tore him apart. He reached for more pebbles in his frustration, and flung them out into the water, frightening the dragonflies away and the meadowlark into flight.
It was Cora’s kindness and enthusiasm for life that had attracted him to her since they first sat side-by-side in the one-room schoolhouse. He didn’t remember when he first fell in love with her, but it was years ago on the school playground. She was the first person to help an injured schoolmate and the first to include a new or a shy student.
Gideon had been the shy student. He came from a hard-working family whose father spent more hours in the wheelwright shop than he did socializing in the community. His mother was slightly more outgoing. He had watched his parents bicker about a few subjects over the years, and yet anyone who spent time around his parents could see with their own eyes that they had a strong, loving relationship. That loving relationship was exactly what Gideon wanted to have with Cora.
After a few more minutes, Gideon removed his boots and stockings and climbed back onto Thor, leading him into the water until the horse was swimming. The cold water was just what Gideon needed to clear his mind and think of the best course of action. When they reached the other side of the swimming hole, Gideon turned Thor around and plunged into the water again, pulling up next to his boots.
As
soon as they returned to the wheelwright barn, Gideon brushed Thor down, left him in his stall with a helping of oats, and went looking for Mr. Lewis.
His father was out back working on one of the new mail wagons.
“Pa,” Gideon said in his straight-forward way, “how do you keep your own opinions sorted out when you and Ma disagree on things?”
Mr. Lewis straightened his lithe frame, a roguish look filling his eyes. “Well, that’s an interesting question,” he said. “Does your question have anything to do with the young lady who skedaddled out of here rather quickly?”
Gideon dug the toe of his boot into the dirt and nodded. “Cora’s obsessed with the automobile,” he said, “and she wants me to agree that the automobile is going to replace the horse and buggy.”
“Hmm,” Mr. Lewis said.
“And what’s more, she thinks wagon building is going to be a thing of the past, and that I should learn a trade connected to the automobile.”
“Does she also want you to move to a big city where you’d have to go in order to do that?”
Gideon thought back to some of his and Cora’s heated discussions. He shook his head. “She thinks the automobile is coming to us, Pa. That I need to be ready for it.”
Mr. Lewis’ laugh was hearty. “Well, my boy, if you like this Gardner girl as much as I think you do, you’d better at least take an interest in the horseless carriage. You can act interested, can’t you? If you act interested, she’ll come around to your more sensible way of thinking eventually. That’s how I do things with your ma. And that’s how your ma does things with me. We show an interest in what the other person thinks, and eventually, one of us starts thinking along the same lines as the other. Sometimes, your ma leans to my way of thinking. Sometimes, I lean to hers.”
“Who’s right most of the time?”
Mr. Lewis chuckled. “Well now, that’s an excellent question. Your ma might be right more times than I’d care to admit. So, there is that.”
Gideon nodded and grinned, trying to absorb his father’s wisdom. “Pa, you don’t think the automobile will ever replace the horse and buggy, do you?”
Mr. Lewis shook his head. “Nope. At least I hope not, son. I’ve worked my whole life in the wagon making trade, like my father and grandfather before me. And my great-grandfathers back in Europe. They knew all about the different timbers and how to dry them and work them into the finest wagons and the finest wheels they run on. They passed their knowledge down through the generations to me, and I’m passing it down to you and your brothers.”
Mr. Lewis paused. His eyes seemed to fade momentarily to another time and place, and then he smiled. “I remember playing with wooden blocks that my grandfather made from some of his best leftover wood. I think you and your brothers played with those same blocks when you were wee lads.”
“We did,” Gideon said. “Ma’s saving those blocks for her grandchildren.”
“There you go,” Mr. Lewis said. “Some things never change, and a wheelwright’s craft is one of those things. But it won’t hurt to show an interest in the automobile to please your young lady. It’ll make her happy, and like I said, she’ll come around to your way of thinking eventually.”
Gideon and his father shared another chuckle. “Thanks, Pa,” Gideon said. “I’d better get back to work if I’m going to finish this wheel I’m working on.” It was a tradition in the wheelwright trade that it took a fifteen-hour day to make a good wheel. Gideon had prided himself in upholding the tradition since he turned fourteen. He had started a wheel for the new mail wagon before six in the morning, and Gideon planned to finish the wheel before his day ended.
Mr. Lewis clasped Gideon on the back. “You’re a fine son,” he said, “and a good example to your brothers. They’re learning the wheelwright craft right behind you and following your lead. Developing the strength and talent of a carpenter and blacksmith as well as a wheelwright will serve you well. You’ve got a fine sense of ingenuity, and you’re the one who’ll eventually inherit this business. You’ll keep it running for our family through this next century.”
Gideon walked back into the barn, more than happy to get back to his work of fitting iron strakes to the wheel he was working on. He wanted to finish the wheel and start in on a new one before he stopped for the night. Tomorrow was Saturday, and the Saturday night dance. He wouldn’t have time to put in a fifteen-hour work day tomorrow, but if he worked longer today and started the new wheel, he could still finish it tomorrow before the dance. Gideon smiled as he picked up the fuller and went back to work on the wheel, thinking of Cora the whole time. He planned to spin Miss Cora Gardner around that dance floor and act as excited as a puppy about her automobile infatuation.
The night sky glittered with stars as Gideon pulled the family carriage to a stop near the schoolhouse on Saturday night. The air smelled of dogwood trees and fresh cut hay as the townsfolk milled about greeting each other with smiling faces. All in all, it was a perfect night for a dance. Gideon’s four younger brothers spilled out of the wagon and headed toward their friends the moment Gideon brought the wagon to a stop. Gideon wished his brothers had helped him with the horses. He was just as anxious as they were to enter the schoolhouse, but he didn’t call them back. His thoughts were on Cora and talking to her about the cross-country road trip she was so infatuated with. Now that Gideon had decided to stop arguing with her about the future of the automobile, he was actually quite curious to hear if Horatio Nelson Jackson had made it out of California.
Cora was standing near her two oldest sisters and holding one of their babies when Gideon walked into the building. He stood by the entrance, greeting some of the town folks and watched Cora interacting with her family. She fairly danced already, swaying from side to side with the baby in her arms, her contagious laughter and smile making the night seem brighter than the stars outside. There always seemed to be a fuss over who got to hold or play with the three Gardner grandchildren when the family attended community functions, and sure enough, one of Cora’s younger sisters tugged the baby away from her while Gideon watched.
After a few moments, Nathan, Cora’s brother-in-law, started warming up on his fiddle. He and his wife, Ruby, played the best music around for Saturday night dances. When Ruby sat at the organ and it looked like the dance was about to start, Gideon approached Cora. Her eyes shone even brighter when she turned to face him, and his heart slammed in his chest. She had already promised the first and last dance to him.
Music and clapping filled the schoolhouse to bursting when Gideon led Cora onto the dance floor, but Gideon was determined to show his interest in the cross-country road trip despite of the hubbub. “Have you heard any more about that Jackson guy?” he asked when he and Cora came together in the reel. Gideon impressed himself that he remembered the correct name of the automobile enthusiast who was attempting the road trip.
“After a full week of trying, they still haven’t crossed the California border,” Cora said the first chance she got as they paraded around the floor. “They’re still waiting in that northern town of Alturas for new tires. But they haven’t given up on their road trip, and neither have I.”
Gideon smiled and put a little more zing into his dancing. Still stuck in Alturas? That’s good. A horse and buggy would have entered Idaho by now. Gideon didn’t let any of those thoughts spill out. “Where do you get your information?” he asked.
“The newspaper office.”
“When does Jackson expect to reach Idaho?” Gideon’s voice spiraled because Mr. Jepson, the dance caller, sent them off on a promenade.
“They were supposed to already be in Idaho,” Cora answered when she could. She wrinkled her face into a scowl, but then laughed and fairly flew toward her next dance movement. When she finally returned to Gideon, she added, “they’re behind schedule, but they still have plenty of time to win their bet.”
When Cora referred to the bet, she raised her eyebrows as though she had said a scandalous word, and they b
oth broke into laughter. Gideon recalled the fifty-cent bet she had made with him regarding the cross-country trip, and he placed his finger to his lips about their little secret. Their private bet was just between the two of them as far as Gideon was concerned, and he could tell by the way Cora fluttered her eyelashes at him that she appreciated his discretion. They soon gave up on their automobile conversation and put all their energy into dancing.
Gideon felt like they were off to a great start, having fun, and yet he had already shown an interest in Cora’s automobile infatuation. He resolved to not argue with her one time tonight, but to simply enjoy her touch every time they came together during the reel. He would go along with her vision of the automobile forever, if he could simply hold her hand in his. His only wish was that he could claim every dance with Cora for himself. Unfortunately, when the first dance ended, Gideon had to return her to the sidelines where her next dance partner waited.
Gideon stood by the refreshment table and watched Cora dance away with Milo Henderson. Milo wasn’t a bad sort, but Gideon wanted to punch him in the nose anyway. Milo hadn’t done anything wrong, he just did everything right, that was all. It seemed that Milo had recently returned from San Francisco with his father, the president of the new bank in town, and Milo claimed to have watched Horatio Nelson Jackson and his mechanic set off on the road trip in their cherry red Winton. No matter how much interest Gideon showed in the road trip, how could he compete with that?
When the dance ended, Milo and Cora walked over to the refreshment table where Gideon stood. Sure enough, their conversation centered on Horatio Nelson Jackson’s automobile and how he’d outfitted it for his daring adventure.
Winds of Change (The Surveyor's Daughters Book 4) Page 2