by Annie Boone
“I've been thinking the same thing, Mr. Dean,” said Jemma.
“I met a friend on the train who lives in Cutter’s Creek in the Montana Territory. I'm thinking I’ll stop in Cutter’s Creek and spend a short while with her. They have twin boys just a few years younger than Tim, and I think it would be good for the children to be around kids their own age.”
“I think that's a fine idea, Miss Braithewaite,” he told her. “Maybe a carefree environment will help them.
“That boy needs space. He needs space to run out all that energy. Little Delilah has a good time, too, but not like that boy. I've never seen a child play and run like he does,” he said with obvious fondness.
Jemma smiled. “I’m looking forward to getting to know them. I’m glad Billy and Sylvia told them about their family. At least they know we exist.”
“I'll just leave you here to go through it all. To tell you the truth it's kind of hard for me to be in this sweet little cabin. I don’t you in this task.”
Jemma let her eyes adjust to the light in the cabin as she began to look around. She could practically see her brother and Sylvia with their children filling the small space with laughter.
The children's books were stacked on a small table over to the side of the main room. Neatly stacked handmade quilts were at the bottom of each bed.
Jemma was talking to herself as she went through each room. “I definitely will take those quilts with me. That might be easier for the children to transition to new spaces and new beds if they had their quilts with them.”
Jemma moved into the next room and looked around. Every room was cozy and warm and she felt like she would be so at home in a place like this.
“I suppose I need to go through all their clothes and decide what to give away and what to take back.”
Jemma intentionally left the work until the next day when she was a little more rested. She left the cabin and closed the door tightly. She could see why Tim and Sylvia loved that space so much. It spoke of love and family.
She made her way back to the main farmhouse and sat on the porch for a minute to gather her thoughts.
Mrs. Dean came out with a small box tied with brown twine.
“Your brother told me if anything ever happened to him or his wife that I was to give this to you. That boy was as sweet as sugar, so I don't know what's in it but I'm sure it's something wonderful,” she said. “I know it’s hard to take this, but there will probably never be a good time to give this to you.”
Jemma was beyond shocked. She smiled up at Mrs. Dean and nodded. “I know, it’s so hard. I’ll need to look at this at some point and now’s as good a time as any.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She opened the box and then her eyes. The contents were simple. Inside was a roll of money wrapped with a piece of paper in an envelope.
Jemma opened the envelope and looked inside carefully. It was a letter with her name on the front.
Dear Jemma,
I guess if you're reading this it means something has happened to Sylvia and me. I want you to know how much I love you. And how wonderful I think you’re. I’ve missed you these past years even though I’ve loved living here.
I'm hoping that this little inheritance will help you step out and become the independent woman I know you were meant to be.
Use it any way you decide to Jemma. Take a journey or move into your own place. But every time you think of me, remember how much I believed in you.
I love you little sister,
Billy
Jemma counted the money and then counted it again. It was $500. A veritable fortune in her circle. She had never seen so much money and wondered where on earth her brother would have accumulated so much.
For him to have thought to set anything aside for her, she just could not imagine. Surely he knew she would be taking care of the children. Perhaps he meant for it to extend her meager teacher’s salary to allow for them?
As soon as she read the word ‘journey,’ it was clear what she would do with the money. She would stop in Cutter’s Creek and stay for not just a time. She kept remembering how Mr. Dean said Tim needed to run around. It was clear he wasn't going to do much running around in their Chicago neighborhood, not without being in the street.
But in Cutter’s Creek – from what she could see from the train and what Janine had told her – there were all kinds of wide-open spaces for running and adventures. Yes, she would take a little bit of Billy's money and invest in a mini adventure for her and the children.
Suddenly, the heaviness and the sorrow she felt since she arrived in Lewiston lifted just a little, and she could feel herself getting excited about spending time with her friend Janine.
This would be such a great opportunity for her to get to know the children and for them to get to know her. She knew as a teacher of young children how much trust and security meant to children. It was everything to them, even if they couldn't say those words or identify those emotions.
Jemma wanted more than anything to show her niece and nephew that she would be there for them, no matter what.
Besides, she could use a little adventure, too. Seeing a part of the countryside she had never seen before would be exciting.
Jemma went inside to find that the children had already gone to bed. She peeked in at them. Both of them were sound asleep. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer thanking God that young children can sleep even when they're grieving deeply. That's one thing she wished she could still do.
Mrs. Dean asked if there was anything that she could do for Jemma.
“Can I get you anything? Is your bed going to be comfortable?
“I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you for everything. For preparing a space for me and for taking such good care of the children.”
“You’re welcome, dear. I loved your brother and sister like they were ours. My heart just breaks we can’t help with those children. They are so wonderful. But we are just too old. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I’m so sorry about your father and his unfortunate fall.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dean. I’m just going to read a moment and then I’ll be going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning. Thank you, again.”
Jemma watched the older woman leave and sat down on the sofa-bed. She pulled the package from her pocket and reread the letter Billy had written her. Tears threatened, but Jemma stopped herself. No more crying. Time has passed for that and now she would march into the future, head held high.
“Courage, Jemma, courage!” she whispered. It was as much a prayer as it was encouragement. It had also become her new mantra. She wasn’t sure if she said something enough her brain would start believing it. It was worth a try, though.
Chapter Seven
Jemma couldn't believe that the last two days in Lewiston had gone by so quickly. But there she was standing on the platform in downtown Lewiston with three trunks and two small children.
She was heading to Cutter’s Creek to visit her new friend Janine on her way back to Chicago. She was able to send a note to her parents explaining the delay in their return. She asked her parents to send word of her father’s condition to her in Cutter’s Creek.
Tim and Delilah acted excited at the idea of an adventure.
“What kind of place is this Cutter’s Creek, Aunt Jemma?” Tim asked.
“It reminds me of Lewiston, Tim. But I've never actually been there. I just rode the train through.”
“And your friend lives there?” little Delilah asked.
“Yes, honey. My new friend is Janine Hewitt and she lives there. She has a husband named Thad. They have two children, Jacob and Nathaniel. They’re twins. Isn’t that fun?”
“Can we play with them?” Delilah asked.
“Oh, of course. We’ll spend so much wonderful time together with them, Delilah! It's going to be such an adventure!” Jemma encouraged the children. She hoped her own enthusiasm for the detour would transfer to Tim and Delilah.
Tim said quietly
, “I like that word adventure, Aunt Jemma.”
“I know you do, sweet boy. I do, too. We’re going to have a wonderful adventure together.”
She checked the children into the Pullman Car she had reserved. Little Delilah’s eyes were as big as saucers as she took in the luxurious interior.
“Are you rich, Aunt Jemma?” Delilah asked.
“Delilah, that's not nice. You don't ask people if they're rich. Remember what Mama used to tell us.” Tim corrected.
“It's fine for her to ask, Tim.” Then Jemma turned to Delilah, “No little one, I'm not rich. That's just the way these private cars look.”
Delilah smiled and Tim listened intently. It was like he was trying to take in everything about the aunt he was becoming reacquainted with.
There's even a fancier one, if you can believe it,” Jemma told the children.
When the whistle sounded indicating the train was starting off on their journey, Delilah jumped and ran to sit in Jemma’s lap. It was the first time she had touched Jemma on her own.
“Don’t be afraid, Delilah. That sound means we’re leaving the station. You'll get used to the sound of the train. And tonight when you're sleeping, the clickety-clack of the train on the tracks will actually rock you to sleep. I think the rhythm and movement of the train is calming.”
“I'm not afraid,” Tim said. “I'm not afraid of anything.”
His sureness made Jemma believe that he was trying to convince her and himself. She was impressed and pleased with how he was handling the whole situation.
The porter rapped lightly on the door and stuck his head in. “Well hello there, Miss Braithewaite.”
“Oh children! What luck! It's the porter from my first journey, Mr. Ralph. Mr. Ralph please meet my niece and nephew, Delilah and Tim Braithewaite.”
Mr. Ralph tipped his cap to the children and shared a big smile. “Pleased to meet you Miss Braithewaite and Mr. Braithewaite. May I get you anything, now?”
Since Delilah didn’t have a shy bone in her body, she said, “I want a cookie, Mr. Ralph. Do you have cookies?”
“Yes, I certainly do, Miss Braithewaite. And you will have cookies just as soon as I can round them up.”
Jemma was sure that having the same porter from her first journey was a stroke of luck. He was a good man and he’d taken great care of she and Janine on the first journey. She was thankful for a familiar porter.
It was only a day’s ride from Lewiston back to Cutter’s Creek. She was excited about visiting her friend, even if she was a little intimidated about not knowing another soul in that town.
She worried that this stop-over was a bit of a folly. She was searching for a miracle to help her raise these children. Was the stop in Cutter’s Creek a way to delay the responsibilities she’d have in Chicago?
By the time the train arrived in Cutter’s Creek, Tim was about to jump out of his skin. The evening before, they had taken a walk up and down the train through the carriages. Tim wanted to run. He wanted to investigate and he wanted to explore. Being in the tight confines of that train carriage wasn’t his favorite time. The excitement of riding a train for the first time quickly wore off and he became very bored.
Oh my gracious, Jemma thought. How am I going to get him to stay still for two and a half solid days from Cutter’s Creek back to Chicago?
At the train station in Cutter’s Creek, she was surprised when a hotel worker was there to greet her and transport their trunks for them.
“How did you know we would be here?” Jemma asked.
“Mrs. Janine Hewitt has had me come down and meet the train every day for the past three days saying she was sure her friend would be arriving soon.”
“Oh my goodness! That Janine. What a friend she is.”
She had not notified Janine of their pending arrival. Three days? She had only been in Lewiston for three days. Janine must have been counting on her arrival even before she had decided she and the children would be stopping in Cutter’s Creek.
The little family walked the short distance to the curb where a carriage from the inn was waiting for them. For better or worse, they were standing on Cutter’s Creek ground and they’d be staying at least a week.
Chapter Eight
The Silver Dollar Inn turned out to be a fabulous place to stay. The modern furnishings and deep carpets made it pleasant and posh. She glanced into the front parlor at even more grandeur.
The front desk was to the right, so Jemma went to the man standing there.
“Hello. My name is Miss Jemma Braithewaite and I need a room for myself and my two charges for a week, please.”
“Hello, Miss Jemma Braithewaite. My name is Emil Jansen. It’s a great pleasure to make your acquaintance. Welcome to the Silver Dollar Inn. I’m the owner of this establishment and it will be my pleasure to make your stay as welcome as possible. Mrs. Hewitt said you’d be arriving.”
Inquisitive as ever Tim asked, “Why is it called the Silver Dollar Inn?”
“Well, my boy. It's a long story how much time do you have?”
“How much time do we have, Aunt Jemma?” Tim eagerly asked.
“We will be here for a week, Tim. So I guess we have a week,” Jemma laughingly replied.
That was all the encouragement Mr. Emil Jansen needed.
“About twenty years ago, these hills were full of silver. I’ve never been interested in mining, myself. But many a man came here to make his fortune. And I knew that there needed to be a place for people to stay while they were mining and coming to and fro.”
“There were silver dollars in the mountains?” Tim exclaimed.
“Not exactly, young man. There was silver in a raw form that could be made into coins,” answered Emil.
He nodded as if the explanation was adequate and Jemma wanted to giggle because she realized he didn’t really understand.
“At first it was rough going. I wasn't sure I’d made the right decision to bring my son and pretty little wife out here with me.”
Tim seemed captivated by the story, so the innkeeper continued.
“The first Silver Dollar Inn was a shack. But as the miners came and the silver rush paid off, we were able to build a nicer place. People like you and your aunt wouldn’t have wanted to stay in the first Silver Dollar Inn,” he chuckled.
Jemma smiled politely, even though she was bored. She’d already read a little about this area and the silver mining done in the area. But it was good to see Tim with his mind on something besides death, sadness, and uncertainty.
“Yes, the first inn was closer out to the mines and it wasn’t much more than a wooden box. But then when we heard that the railroad was coming through, we wanted to expand our reach. We didn’t want to be just a miner’s inn, but a real traveler’s inn.”
Tim was transfixed by Emil’s colorful description. He immediately had many questions.
“Did anybody strike it rich? Do you know anybody who struck gold? Or was it just silver? Are there still mines around? Why did you not want to mine, Mr. Jansen?”
“Well, little mister. There have been quite a few who struck pay dirt. That's what the miners call it when they strike it rich. But many people who came here for a fortune, lost more than they made.”
“You came,” Tim said. “You came and you made it rich by building this big fine inn. Right, Mr. Jansen?”
“Right you are, my boy. I’ve definitely struck it rich,” he chuckled. He grabbed the keys from the board behind him and said, “Let me show you where you're going to stay for the week, young Mr. Braithewaite.”
Tim laughed at Mr. Jansen calling him Mr. Braithewaite, like he was the man of the family.
Jemma grabbed the small train case from the top of the stack of luggage and she looked woefully at how much they had.
“Don't you worry about that pile of baggage, Miss Braithewaite. I'll have one of the boys bring it up to your room. Now you just follow me up here and I'll show you where everything is.”
Jemma smil
ed and was thankful that yet another small problem had been handled. She was beginning to think that the good Lord was indeed watching over them. Not that she doubted it, she was just happy to see tangible evidence.
He reached his hand out and little Delilah grabbed a hold of it. Mr. Jansen, who many thought was a gruff old man, actually warmed and practically melted at the touch of the petite little blonde.
Jemma wondered how much Janine had told him since he seemed to know their names. She bet she had told him at least the story of the children.
“I'm good friends with Janine Hewitt,” Jemma added to the conversation. “Is there any way I might get a message to her?”
“I imagine Mrs. Hewitt already knows you're in town. There is a rumor mill for sure in this place. So I bet a message will be coming to you before you can say ‘scat cat, scat’.”
At that ridiculous saying, both the children burst out laughing and Emil Jansen added his deep rumbling laugh to theirs.
“I'm just pulling your leg, Miss Braithewaite. You just give me any message you would like to send to Mrs. Hewitt and I’ll get the message to her as soon as possible.”
Jemma turned to go to the small writing desk and jotted off a quick message to her friend. While Jemma’s head was bent to her task, she heard a deep younger voice behind her.
“Bring those trunks right in here, son.”
At the sound of his voice, Jemma turned and looked directly into eyes that almost resembled Mr. Jansen’s. They were dark blue, almost black. Certainly deeper and bluer than any eyes she’d ever seen. Where his father was shorter and wider, the son was tall and well-muscled. Jemma was intrigued and then a bit embarrassed. She was just passing through, for goodness sakes!
With a formal slight bow at his waist he said, “Nick Jansen at your service ma'am. You must be Miss Jemma Braithewaite of Chicago.”
“I am, Mr. Jansen. And this is my nephew, Tim Braithewaite and my niece, Miss Delilah Braithewaite.”