Rimfire Bride

by Sara Luck

  If Drew Malone were her husband, he wouldn’t . . . Jana’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. What was happening to her? Such thoughts about another woman’s husband.

  Jana went back to her translating, and the very next line spoke to her: “I beseech you—There are strings in the human heart, which touched, will sometimes utter dreadful discord—I beseech you—”

  Jana Hartmann was in a state of dreadful discord. Right then she decided she would work for Mr. Watson only until Christmas. Then she would set the process in motion to find a plot of land to homestead. She did not come to Dakota to get involved with a married man. Another line from the play spoke to her: Moments, which steal the roses from the cheek of health, and plow deep furrows in the brow of youth.

  This would not be her plight.

  Drew, Sam, and Benji were on board the eastbound Pacific Express, returning from Rimfire. Drew smiled as he listened to the boys’ lively conversation. He decided this had been a worthwhile trip. The house was coming along nicely and would probably be finished by Christmas, but the most important thing was his talk with Sam. He needed that talk with Sam, as much for himself as for his son.

  After Addie died, Drew had thrown himself into his work, withdrawing from anything that was social. Frank and his wife, Caroline, had tried to draw Drew out, but he had used the boys as an excuse not to do anything. Now it was time he accepted responsibility for how his behavior may have impacted Sam.

  It was one thing to tell your son that things happen that we don’t like, and when they do happen, we have no choice but to live with them, but it was completely different to have to live that. For the good of his children, he had to start living a normal life. At first he had hired Elfrieda to satisfy Addie’s mother, but now he told himself he should take advantage of her presence and do some things—some things that were fun.

  The train stopped at Dickinson to take on coal and water, and Drew and the boys stepped off the train to walk around for a moment. This town had a population of about fifteen hundred people, most of whom worked in some capacity for the Northern Pacific. There was a passenger depot, a freight warehouse, a commodious railroad shop, and a roundhouse that until recently had been the end of the track.

  “Boys, we’d better get something to eat here,” Drew said as he led the way across the street to one of the two hotels in town. “We’ll only have about fifteen minutes before the train gets under way again.”

  When they walked into the restaurant, the proprietor had just taken out a batch of potato fritters, and the smell was tantalizing.

  “We’ll take a dozen of those,” Drew said. “Oh, and put in a couple of cream cakes, too.”

  “You on the Pacific Express?”

  “We are.”

  “Then I’d better put ’em in paper for you. That train don’t stay here very long.”

  “I’d be much obliged if you’d do that.”

  When the train started rolling again, the boys, with bellies full, and rocked by the gentle motion of the train, fell asleep. Drew watched the afternoon slowly begin to fade as all the new little towns rolled by: Gladstone, Taylor, Richardton. No wonder he was so busy filing claims, since most of these towns were formed to accommodate the immigrants who were homesteading their section of land from the undulating hills of fertile soil.

  And then he saw a small, insignificant sign saying NEW SALEM. There was only one building.

  So this was where she was going. Drew checked his watch to see what time it was. By his schedule, New Salem would only be about thirty miles from Bismarck. That would be an easy trip.

  A little more than half an hour to go and they would be home. He settled back in his seat, intending to take a nap as well, but that was not to be. As they approached Bly’s Mine, the track took a sharp turn.

  Suddenly a loud crashing noise reverberated through all the train. No longer traveling smoothly on the rails, the car was now bucking badly, as if going over a lot of bumps. A couple of women in the car screamed, and some of them shouted.

  The commotion awakened the boys as they were jostled about; Benji was thrown on the floor. Drew grabbed him and pulled the boy to him.

  “Are we going to die?” Sam said with more calmness than Drew was sure his son felt. The boy held on to the armrest of his seat, his eyes opened wide in terror.

  “No, Son,” Drew said without conviction.

  From the window, he saw that the tender had left the track and was now in the ditch. It sounded as if someone were outside, beating on the side of the car with a sledgehammer, until finally they stopped. All the cars had been thrown from the tracks, and the baggage cars were whirled diagonally across the roadbed. Two passenger coaches were at a precarious tilt, but miraculously, the wheels of the passenger coach Drew and his sons were in rested upright on the ties.

  “What happened? Why did we stop?” Benji asked.

  “We ran off the tracks,” Sam said.

  “You mean we had a train wreck?”

  “I wouldn’t say it was a wreck, because everybody is all right. I think the tender ran into the ditch, and then all the cars got off the track,” Drew said as he pulled the boys closer to him.

  “You know why we weren’t hurt?” Sam asked.

  “Why?”

  “Mama. She’s taking care of us.”

  Drew smiled. “That could very well be, Sam. She loved us more than anything else in the world, and she could still be looking out for all of us.”

  Jana was helping Greta set up the soup kettle when a whistle began blowing in several short toots. The sound galvanized everyone in the saloon, and many of the men got up and started toward the door.

  “Carl, what’s that?” Greta asked. “Where’s everyone going?”

  “Those whistles mean something’s happened to a train someplace,” Carl said.

  “What do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know, but I imagine we’ll find out soon enough. It could be engine trouble or the track is out or it could be a wreck. It’s really hard to say.”

  Jana and Greta joined some of the Custer regulars at the front window of the hotel. They saw several people milling about the depot, some railroad workers and townspeople as well.

  After a while a couple of the men who had been having their supper returned.

  “What is it, Mr. Dempsey?” Greta asked one of the men. “What happened?”

  “It’s the Bly’s Mine curve again. The eastbound left the track,” Dempsey said.

  “Oh, dear, was anyone hurt?” Jana asked.

  “I don’t think so. Leastwise we haven’t been told of none. It’s just that curve is the worst one in all of Dakota, and somethin’ happens there every little whipstitch. They’re puttin’ an engine and a passenger car on now to go get ’em.”

  It had gotten quite dark, and the dim lights inside the car caused the windows to act as mirrors so that Drew could see nothing but his own reflection when he tried to look outside. He knew what had happened, though, because shortly after the accident he had gone outside to have a look around.

  Ironically, the locomotive had not left the track, though the tender had, breaking loose from the couplings and turning over in the ditch. Several people were walking around, a few dazed and disoriented.

  “A fine thing this is!” one man was saying angrily. “I paid my fare and I expected to be transported, safely, to Chicago. But I didn’t even get out of Dakota. A fine thing this is.”

  “Mister, don’t take on so,” another passenger said. “I’ve been in train wrecks where people were killed or badly injured. You don’t have a scratch on you.”

  “A fine thing,” the man said again, his grumbling unabated.

  The conductor informed the passengers that word had gone forward, informing the authorities of the accident. “I’ve no doubt but that a rescue train will be here soon enough,” he said.

  That had been more than an hour ago, and the car was beginning to cool, as the steam heat was generated by the now-defunct locomo
tive. Several others in the car huddled together for warmth while a few, like Drew’s two sons, were sleeping. Some conversed quietly, and at the back end of the car a card game had begun.

  Drew looked at Sam and Benji. When the commotion had begun, Addie’s image had come to his mind as well, but not as the guardian that Sam had voiced. Drew’s thoughts had been about what would come of the boys if something happened to him.

  And he knew the answer: Rose Denton. Growing up next door to the Dentons, he had never realized what a pain that woman was. He shuddered as he thought about his children having to go back to Evanston to live with her.

  “Here it comes!” someone called. “I can see the light! A train’s comin’.”

  “I hope it’s the rescue train, and not some limited that’s roaring down the tracks like a cannonball,” someone said. “Why, it could plow right into us.”

  “What?” one of the women asked in concern.

  “Oh, pay no attention to him,” another passenger said. “He’s just talkin’ to hear himself talk.”

  “Anyhow, it’s slowin’ down now,” someone else said. “He sees us, and he’s come to get us.”

  By now the train was close enough that everyone could hear it, and the conductor, who had been in one of the other cars, came in.

  “Folks, grab whatever you’ve got with you, and be ready to get on the train.”

  “Come on, boys,” Drew said as he scooped Benji into his arms and guided Sam through the car.

  The rescue train rolled into the Bismarck depot at eleven thirty that night. Ordinarily a train arriving in the middle of the night would be met only by those people who had business with it, but as Drew looked through the window, it seemed as if half the town had turned out. He searched through the crowd looking—looking for what?

  Benji woke up and rubbed his eyes. “Why did we stop?”

  “Because we’re home,” Drew said.

  “I’m going to tell Mrs. Considine about our train wreck.”

  “It wasn’t a train wreck,” Sam said. “The cars got off the track. That’s all.”

  “But that’s a train wreck, isn’t it, Daddy?”

  “You’re both right,” Drew said. “The cars ran off the track, and that’s not an actual train wreck, but it is sort of like one.”

  When Drew stepped off the train, he watched as many of the other passengers were met in joyous reunion, and with exclamations of love and thankfulness that no one was hurt.

  But of course no one met him, or his two sons.

  “Oh, Johnny, my sweet Johnny, Mama was so worried about you!” a woman gushed as she embraced a young boy, a few years older than Sam, who had been on one of the other cars.

  Drew felt Sam squeeze his hand more tightly, and looking down at him, Drew saw Sam watching the reunion of the mother and son. Sam didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. His eyes, wide-open and gleaming in the depot platform lamps, were portals to show the ache that Drew knew was in his son’s heart. Drew returned the squeeze.

  “It’s good to be home, safe and sound, isn’t it?” Drew said, not only to get Sam’s mind off the pain of not being met, but his own as well.

  “Yes, sir. But I wish . . .”

  “That Mama was here to meet us?”

  “I know it’s dumb.”

  Drew reached down and put his arm on Sam’s shoulder to draw him closer. “No, Son, it’s love. You don’t stop loving someone just because they died. And love is never dumb. Come on, let’s go home.”

  Elfrieda met them when a dray left them at the back door. She, like nearly everyone else in town, was aware that there had been an accident, but she had no idea that Drew and the boys had been on the train.

  “We were in a train wreck!” Benji said excitedly as he ran toward Elfrieda. “And one of the cars was in the ditch.”

  “It was the tender,” Sam said knowledgeably.

  “My, my, that must have been frightening for you,” Elfrieda said.

  “We weren’t ‘a scared a bit,” Benji said proudly. “Were we, Sam?”

  “No,” Sam agreed. “We weren’t scared.”

  “That’s because you are both brave boys,” Elfrieda said. “But let me ask you this. Would you like a cup of hot chocolate and an apple croûte before you go to bed?”

  “Yes, please,” Sam said.

  “Yes, please,” Benji echoed.

  “What about you, Mr. Malone?” she added.

  “If you have any coffee, I’ll have that.”

  “I’ll make a fresh pot,” Elfrieda said as she cut two slices of bread for the croûte.

  “Slice off another piece of bread,” Drew said.

  “I’m already doing it,” Elfrieda said with a chuckle. “I know you. When you smell the apples and the cinnamon, you’ll be wanting one, too.”

  Drew and the boys watched as Elfrieda toasted the bread in butter and sugar and cinnamon, then cooked the slices of apple in the pan residue. When they were soft, she spooned them onto the bread and placed one in front of each of them.

  “I’m so glad you came to live with us, Mrs. Considine. Daddy never fixes good things like this,” Benji said as he took a bite of the croûte.

  “Thank you, Benji, but do you know it’s already tomorrow? You boys had best get some sleep,” Elfrieda said. “If you don’t need me for anything else, Mr. Malone, I’ll go get their beds ready and then go on to bed myself.”

  “You go ahead. I’ll wash these cups and plates.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Just leave them be and I’ll take care of them in the morning. Come on, boys, let’s get you ready for bed.”

  “Good night, Daddy,” Sam said as he finished his hot chocolate.

  “Good night, Son.”

  “I’m glad we didn’t die,” Benji said as he threw himself into his father’s arms.

  “I am, too,” Drew said as he held his young son. Then Drew saw Sam standing back watching the two of them. “Come here, Sam. I need to hug you, too, because we’re the three musketeers.”

  “What does that mean?” Benji asked as he cocked his head quizzically.

  “It means we love each other.” Drew kissed each of his sons on the top of his head. “Now off to bed with both of you.”

  Drew gathered the plates and the boys’ cups and put them in the dishpan. He poured hot water from the copper teakettle that always sat on the back of the cookstove, then refilled it with water from the kitchen pump, which brought water up from the cistern under the house. He carefully washed and dried the dishes, then put them back on the shelf above the marble sink.

  He smiled. Frank often said Drew would make some woman a good wife someday, because until he hired Elfrieda, he had tried to do everything himself. He had done none of it well. Probably Rose was right to goad him into getting help. Even she had suggested he should take a wife. Addie’s mother. How could she even suggest such a thing?

  He refilled his coffee cup and sat at the kitchen table, holding his cup until the coffee grew tepid. Normally the kitchen was brightly lit by a gas chandelier, but at the moment a low-burning kerosene lamp dimly illuminated it.

  In his mind, Drew was once again cradling the dying Addie in his arms, her blood soaking his shirt as he applied pressure to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Again he heard the words, as clearly as if she were lying here before him.

  Get a good woman to take care of my boys. I love you.

  It was time.

  Sam’s teacher wasn’t the only single woman in town who, in Elfrieda’s words, had “set her cap” for Drew. There was also Bessie McNiel, a young widow, the mother of a ten-year-old daughter. She had let Drew know, in no uncertain terms, that she was more than ready to find another husband, and father for her daughter.

  Clara Hollenbaugh was a German immigrant who worked at A. Logan’s Bakery and often brought pastries. Presumably they were for Sam and Benji, but she always brought them to the law office. Drew had finally convinced her that while he loved the honey-glazed krapfen
and the fried Berliners filled with vanilla cream, “the boys” should not always have something sweet. So now, every Tuesday, as regular as clockwork, Clara delivered warm krautkrapfen for both Frank and Drew. The dough was rolled up jelly-roll fashion with a filling of sauerkraut, onions, and ham, and both men looked forward to their Tuesday lunch.

  All three eligible women—teacher, widow, and baker—were active in the Ladies’ Christian Union, a group of ladies who did charitable work around Bismarck. They also managed the Reading Room, where single men of all ages, mainly soldiers from Fort Lincoln, transients, and newcomers, could come listen to readings of the classics. Drew himself had been invited to read on numerous occasions, and he had enjoyed the evenings, even though the joke around town was that the Reading Room should really be called the Marriage Market. It was said that after only four visits to the Reading Room you would find your name in Colonel Lounsberry’s “Current Comments” section of the Tribune announcing your betrothal.

  Jana Hartmann.

  How would she be as a wife, and a mother to his children?

  He had thought she could be the perfect package: attractive without being self-centered, intelligent without being overbearing, and effervescent without being gushy. But why would such a woman enter into a business arrangement with Elizabeth McClellan?

  TEN

  Did you go down to meet the rescue train last night?” Mr. Watson asked the next morning when Jana walked into the store.

  “No, my sister and I were both in bed by ten o’clock.”

  “Well, it was nearly midnight when it finally pulled in. I and about half the town were at the depot, mainly to meet Phin Causey. He sent word ahead that he’d be on the train with a fine lot of Mercer County venison. Everybody wanted a hindquarter and nobody wanted to wait till morning, so we all were there to meet him.”

  “I’ll bet the other people were pleased to see all of you out to meet them, too.”

  “I expect they were, but I was surprised how many prominent citizens were on that train. It would have been a blow to the community if it had been a bad accident. Billy Pye and his son, Johnny, were on it, and then Lulu Mason and Sadie Cole were coming back from Miles City. You know they’re the favorites over at the Opera House. Oh, and Drew Malone and his two little boys were in the wreck, too. Somebody said he was coming back from Little Missouri. Must be he’s defending some good-for-nothing over there, but why oh why would he subject those poor children to that riffraff.”