Rimfire Bride

by Sara Luck

  Jana smiled at the news. “Thank you! Thank you very much! Then, my sister and I will go right away. Where’s the Northern Pacific depot?”

  “In St. Paul, Minnesota.”

  At the Chicago and North Western Depot, Jana waited in line at the ticket cage. The ticket agent on the other side of the barred window wore a visor and wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Yes, miss, where to?” His voice reflected the weariness of someone who had been standing all day, and no smile was in his greeting.

  Jana showed the ticket agent the pamphlet. “This says that the Northern Pacific is giving reduced rates to all who would take passage to Dakota.”

  “Madam, this is the Chicago and North Western.”

  “Yes, I realize that. But I was told that your railroad will connect to the Northern Pacific in St. Paul. And that I can buy a through ticket here.”

  “That’s true, but you do understand, the Chicago and North Western does not give the cheap fares from here to St. Paul?”

  “How much would a ticket be from here to Dakota?”

  The ticket agent let out a long-suffering sigh. “Dakota is a big territory, madam. You will have to be more specific. Where in Dakota would you like to go?”

  Jana tried to remember the names of the cities Reverend Kling had mentioned, but the only name that came to mind was Bismarck, which had stuck in her head because of Chancellor Otto von Bismarck of the German Empire.

  “Bismarck.”

  The agent checked a chart. “Will you want palace-car service?”

  “No, I want the least expensive service.”

  “You’ll be one full day and night on the train between here and St. Paul. I assure you, madam, that the emigrant car won’t be very comfortable.”

  “I realize that, but cost is more important than comfort.”

  “The total cost will be sixteen dollars. Twelve dollars from here to St. Paul, and four dollars from St. Paul to Bismarck.”

  “I shall require two tickets.”

  After saying good-bye and thanking Cousin Marie for her hospitality, Jana and Greta left Chicago the next evening at 6:00 p.m. Because Jana had bought the most inexpensive tickets, they walked by the palace cars and the sleeper cars, which shone with varnish and colorful trim, until they reached a dull car without any trim at all. This was one of several emigrant cars, a long, narrow box, with a stove at one end and a convenience at the other end, with but a hanging curtain to provide privacy. The car was quite dark in the dim glimmer from its lamps, but Jana could see wooden benches, with straw-filled cushions. By maneuvering through the people already filling the car, she found a spot near the corner that was large enough for her and Greta to sit together. They placed their small suitcase on the floor and put their feet up on it.

  Jana was grateful that their chosen spot was in a corner, because for the entire night she could lean against the wall and cushion Greta’s head on her shoulder.

  The next morning the train stopped for barely thirty minutes as it took on water and fuel. With such a crowd of people, Jana was only able to buy a single biscuit, which she and Greta shared for their breakfast. The lunch counter at their noon stop was equally crowded, and again they had no time to get anything resembling a meal, but they bought an apple apiece from a vendor who was doing a brisk business on the depot platform.

  To pass the time during the day, Jana made a long and detailed sketch of the car they were in, filling it with the passengers she observed. She drew a bald-headed, bearded man eating a meal of sausage and bread; a little girl with pigtails sitting on the floor as she played with a cat; another child asleep on the seat; a man snoozing with his hat pulled down over his head, his wife resting her chin on her hand as she stared through the window; an elderly woman wearing a kerchief knitting; a man standing in the aisle leaning back against the seat, speaking to the people in the seat across the aisle from him.

  “I’m tellin’ you, these trains are goin’ to be the ruination of this country,” the standing man was saying. “The steam that comes from ’em wilts the grass, and that spoils the pasture. The stink off the train will poison all the fish in all the creeks, the whistles scare the deer and turkey and keep the cattle from eatin’ so’s the cows will give no milk. The sparks start all kinds of fires. And here’s another thing. There’s telegraph wires runnin’ alongside the track, and who knows what’s goin’ to happen with all that electricity runnin’ loose ever’where.”

  “And yet, sir, you are riding on the very contraption you condemn,” the man across the aisle replied.

  “Yes, sir, well, it’s the best way to go a long distance, for all its faults.”

  Jana looked at Greta, who had been listening to the conversation, and the two sisters shared a smile.

  For a while Greta watched as Jana’s drawings took on the personalities of her subjects. Someday, when the two women were old, Greta hoped they could look back on this trip and enjoy a laugh together as they recalled this adventure.

  But would this adventure be something they remembered with fondness or with horror?

  Greta turned her attention to the passing landscape. She had tried to be brave for Jana, but inside she was afraid. What if she became a burden for her sister? What if the work proving up a homestead was something she absolutely couldn’t do and all the responsibility would once again fall upon Jana?

  But wasn’t that how it had always been? From childhood on, Greta had always turned to Jana to take care of her, but as Greta stared out the window, she vowed right then and there that she would not allow that to happen—not this time. She would shoulder her part of the responsibility. Somehow, some way, she would find a way to be a productive partner in this endeavor. Tentatively, she reached for Jana’s hand and squeezed it.

  Jana smiled. She could feel the uncertainty and anxiety that Greta was feeling because it mirrored her own. Looking around at all these people, who were doubtless on the same quest that she and Greta had undertaken, among them there were bound to be failures.

  The strong man who had complained about the trains—what made her think she could succeed when perhaps he would not? The woman knitting? Was she with a man or was she going West alone? And the child sitting on the floor? Was she afraid of what lay ahead of her?

  All of these people—all of these thoughts—gave Jana some comfort. If others thought they could do this, then she could, too.

  She put down her pencil and drawing pad and clasped Greta’s hand firmly. Without words, she was conveying a strength that came from deep within her. Greta had to know that her big sister would never let anything happen to her.

  They reached St. Paul at eight o’clock that evening. There, they learned that they would have to spend the night in the depot because the train to Bismarck, which was to be an all-emigrant train, wouldn’t leave until nine the next morning. That night they had supper, but Jana didn’t want to waste any money on lodging, so she was pleased when she saw that others would be spending the night in the waiting room of the Northern Pacific Depot.

  Some of the other passengers were placing boards between two benches to sleep on. She went to one of the ticket windows.

  “Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”

  “I see that some of the passengers have boards that they’ve laid between the benches. Where’d they get those?”

  “I rent ’em. Would you like a couple?”

  “My sister is with me. I’ll need four of them.”

  “That’s ten cents. Jacob, grab four for the lady,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Thank you,” Jana said as she gave the man a dime.

  Jana smiled at Greta when she returned. “Have some cheer, little one, we’ll be able to sleep tonight. It won’t be a comfortable bed, but at least it’ll be better than last night. We’ll be able to stretch out.”

  A moment later a boy of about sixteen arrived, carrying four boards. “These are for you, ma’am?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll put them down for you
. If you wad up your coat, it makes a pretty good pillow.”

  “Thank you, we’ll do that. Are there any blankets?”

  “They’re all gone.”

  The boy put the boards in place, then stood there for a moment, and Jana realized he was waiting for a tip. She gave him a nickel.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” the boy said with a smile.

  “We can make do. We’ll use one coat as a pillow, and the other as a blanket,” Jana suggested.

  Greta rolled her coat into a bundle, then she got on one side of the boards and stretched out. “Oh, this will do just fine.”

  Jana lay down beside her sister, and placing her money pouch under her chemise next to her breasts, she pulled her coat over the two of them. In spite of the hard boards and the various noises from the other weary travelers, she was asleep within a few minutes.

  Jana didn’t know how long she had been asleep when she felt something on her hip under her makeshift blanket. Her skirt had been inched up and she felt her leg exposed to the air.

  “Ahh!” she said, as she forced her elbow back into the gut of the person behind her.

  “What the hell are you doin’, woman? Can’t a body get any sleep?” a man asked in a loud voice, awakening many who were sleeping nearby.

  Looking around, she saw that two more boards had been stretched between the benches, and a man was lying beside her. It had been his hand on her hip.

  “Keep your hands off me!” Jana said angrily as she pulled her skirt down to restore some of her modesty.

  Just then, Greta sat up and opened her eyes with a squint.

  “What happened? Is it time to get on the train?” Greta asked.

  An official-looking man came over to them. “Ladies, please, you’ll have to keep it quiet. People are trying to sleep.”

  “Who are you?” Jana asked.

  “I am G. K. Barnes, the Northern Pacific passenger agent here in St. Paul.”

  “Well, Mr. G. K. Barnes, I was trying to sleep until this . . . this beast tried to assault me.”

  “Why, I did no such thing.” The man looked to be in his thirties and was dressed not unlike any of the other emigrants. “I was sleeping when you suddenly called out and elbowed me in my stomach.”

  “Are you going to deny that you . . . you groped me?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “Then you, sir, are a liar.” Jana pointed to his two boards. “Why are those things so close to mine?”

  “I sought only to take up as little space as possible, so that others may have a place to rest.”

  “Move them!” Jana demanded.

  “Madam, I assure you, if I, uh, touched you, it was unintended, something that I did in my sleep.”

  “I think, sir, that you should put your boards elsewhere,” Barnes said.

  “I shall,” the man replied petulantly. “I certainly have no desire to be attacked in my sleep again by this crazy woman.”

  Jana watched until the man was on the far side of the waiting room.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Barnes said. “I hope you’ll not be disturbed again.”

  “I hope so as well.”

  “Are you all right?” Greta asked after Barnes left.

  “Yes, I’m all right now. Try to go back to sleep.”

  Within a few minutes Greta was asleep once more. But sleep for Jana was fleeting, not only because she feared a return of her would-be assailant, but also because she was afraid she might sleep so soundly that they would miss their train to Bismarck.

  What would happen to them if they did miss the train? It might be a week before the next emigrant train departed. If she had to sit here all night long with her eyes forced open to keep herself from going to sleep, she would do just that. They were not going to miss the train. They couldn’t afford it financially, or emotionally.

  The next morning Jana picked up a pamphlet from the Northern Pacific. It listed the names of all the officers of the railroad, the distances on the various divisions, and, according to the heading at the top of the page, “Important Information for Settlers and Tourists.” The pamphlet gave information about each of the towns along the route, and Jana looked to see what had been written about Bismarck. Up until now, the only thing she knew about the place where she and her sister were planning to spend the next four or five months, depending on the schedule of Pastor G. L. Kling and the German Evangelical Synod of North America, was its name.

  Bismarck—Population, 2,500. Two first-class and eight second-class hotels, seven churches, two banks, a public hall, a daily and two weekly newspapers, courthouse and town hall, an artesian well, and all branches of trade represented. Products are wheat, oats, and potatoes. Shipments same. Game: antelope, deer, elk, prairie chickens, and ducks. Four lines of steamers receiving and discharging general merchandise and supplies to and from Upper Missouri River forts, posts, and landings. The Chamber of Commerce with the push of its enterprising businessmen will make Bismarck one of the most prominent points on the Northern Pacific line. An iron bridge is just completed across the Missouri, costing $1,500,000. Fort Abraham Lincoln is three miles distant on the opposite side of the river.

  Seven churches. That was a comforting thought. If there were churches, the town couldn’t be all bad.

  By the time they boarded the train, Jana had recovered some of her optimism. When she chose a seat for them this time, she made sure they were sitting close to another woman.

  “Hello,” Jana said.

  “Halla,” the woman replied. “Sverige.”

  “Sweden,” a man sitting next to her said with a wave of his hand and a broad grin.

  Jana nodded and smiled. No wonder no one spoke to one another.

  They had been under way for only a short time when the train was moved to a sidetrack. The conductor, without explaining the reason for the stop, pushed the door to the emigrant car aside and said that any who wanted to do so might step outside for a breath of fresh air.

  Jana weighed the situation. The potbellied stove was warming the car, making it almost too hot. The heat caused the car to reek of body odor, as the people were forced to sit shoulder to shoulder in the crowd. Added to the body odor were the strange smells of various sausages and cheeses that others had brought, but the worst stench was from the curtained “convenience.”

  Outside the air would be clean, but it was also quite cool. She decided that a breath of fresh air was worth the cold, so she and Greta stepped outside.

  They were near no station, and as far as Jana could see, no town was anywhere on the horizon. All she could see was gently rolling country that stretched away upon all sides. The scene did, however, have a sparkling freshness, with not a cloud in the sky, and it smelled of clean earth. It was pleasant, but still a mystery as to why they had stopped.

  Soon the mystery was solved as another train, going east, appeared on the main line. It roared by at tremendous speed, its cars shining bright with varnished wood, accenting paint, and polished metal fittings. The passengers looked out upon the occupants of the emigrant cars who were standing along the tracks as if they were observing an inferior species.

  The scene would be repeated often during the next twenty-four hours, for every train on the line took precedence over the emigrants.

  Soon after the train passed, the conductor shouted, “All aboard!” Jana and Greta went back into the uncomfortable closeness and foul air of their car, and like everyone else on the train, they tried to grab a catnap when they could.

  Thirty-four hours after leaving St. Paul, their trip interspersed with at least a dozen interruptions as they pulled off onto a sidetrack to let another train pass, they arrived in Bismarck. It was seven o’clock in the evening, and since it had now been three nights since either Jana or Greta had enjoyed a real night’s sleep, they checked into the Custer Hotel, which was only a short distance from the depot.

  Jana was awakened the next morning by a knock on the door. For just a second, she had no i
dea where she was, then she remembered that she and Greta had checked into a hotel the night before. The room was bright with sunlight, and she knew that it was much later than she was used to awakening. Greta was still sleeping soundly beside her.

  Again there was a knock, this time much louder.

  “Yes?” Jana called.

  “Miss,” a man’s voice said from the other side of the door, “if you stay past noon, it’ll cost you for another day.”

  “What time is it now?”

  “It lacks ten minutes of eleven.”

  “Oh, my heavens!” Was it possible that she had slept until almost eleven o’clock? Evidently it was, because she was still in bed.

  “Well, will you be checking out?”

  Jana knew she needed to find somewhere for them to stay more permanently. And she had to find some sort of employment so they could afford to stay in Bismarck until spring, when Reverend Kling and the New Salem group would be coming to the Dakota Territory.

  But until she found a place for them, they would have to stay in a hotel.

  “We’ll be here another day,” she called back.

  “That’s good. Just come on down to the desk before noon and ask for Tom McGowan. I’ll be there, and, miss, if you plan on staying a week, I can rent you a cheaper room.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Uhmm,” Greta said groggily. “What is it? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Jana said. “You just stay in bed until you rest up. As cold as it is, and as much sleep as you’ve lost in the last few days, you have no business moving around until you’re rested.”

  “I am tired,” Greta mumbled as she rolled over and pulled the covers up over her shoulders.

  Jana got out of bed, padded across the floor to stand in front of the steam radiator for a moment to warm up, then walked over to the suitcase, where she took out a rose-colored dress with a white collar. If she was going to be meeting people today, she needed to look her best. She dressed quietly and then put a dollar on the dresser.

  “Greta, I hope I’m gone for most of the day, looking for a place for us to stay. I left you some money if you get hungry,” Jana said as she opened the door to leave. “I think I saw a place downstairs where you might get a bite to eat, but don’t go wandering about on your own. I’ll see you sometime this afternoon.”