Westward the Dream

by Judith Pella; Tracie Peterson

  “It’s even worse for those women whose husbands die, and that is a common fate out here. Widows are faced with so few choices. Most remarry immediately; others less fortunate end up in nightmarish situations. Frankly, I think we females need to band together and form some sort of social club to look after one another. Our husbands can’t always be there for us, and as this transcontinental railroad becomes a reality—and knowing my Ted, it won’t be long before it is—more and more men will be sent out on the lines away from their loved ones.”

  Victoria didn’t know how to reply. She hadn’t thought about what might happen if Kiernan hired on with the railroad. Anna didn’t give her long to consider an answer, however, as she continued to speak on the matter.

  “Women seem more inclined to pine away for the things they’ve left behind. It wears on them, and it wears on the men they love. Some women are never able to deal with the isolation, and it ruins their lives and their marriages.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I suppose I’ve even had my moments. I’ve thought about telling Ted how hard it is when he goes away, but I know it would only cause him to worry.”

  “I’ve tried to adapt,” Victoria finally said. “I don’t always like it, but I deal with it. I do miss talking to my mother and seeing my friends, but I love my husband and do not wish to be separated from him any more than I have to be.”

  “I feel the same way, which is why I often travel with Ted. I’ve learned to pack on a moment’s notice, and I know just how little we can take with us and still be comfortable.”

  Victoria smiled. “I don’t suppose I’ve learned the knack of that. It seems we are always at a loss for something. I tried to encourage Kiernan to settle in a bigger city where we wouldn’t have to worry about such things, but he doesn’t know yet what God would have him do.”

  Anna laid a comforting hand on Victoria’s shoulder. “Sometimes we have to set out, expecting God’s direction as we go. Seems to me an awful lot of folks miss the truly important opportunities of life because they hesitate. Fear holds some back, but many are lost for their inability to make up their minds.”

  “Kiernan is good at making up his mind, but unfortunately he’s made some poor choices, and those continue to haunt him,” Victoria admitted.

  “Everyone makes poor choices.”

  “Yes, but his poor choices cause him to question his value as a man.”

  “Men are always like that. Women make a bad decision, and they face the consequences with emotional outbursts and broken hearts. Men, however, see it as a question of their virility and ability. My Ted is no different than your Kiernan. He hasn’t always done the right thing, and sometimes even when he has, it has cost him dearly. But he holds on to his dreams, and your husband must do the same. After all, the dreaming is free.”

  Victoria shook her head at the woman who couldn’t be more than ten years her senior. “No, the dreaming comes at a price. And we’ve paid dearly.”

  Anna smiled sympathetically. “The actions of trying to bring about the dream might well cost you, but keeping the thing alive in your heart is not only free—it often pays you. The dividends are encouragement, hope, even endurance.”

  Victoria looked out across the vast expanse of granite gorges and white-rapid rivers. Sometimes she felt as though her life was a series of maneuvers to get from one canyon across another. Would it never be easy?

  “I suppose you’re right. I just desire so much more.”

  “But perhaps once my husband talks to yours, you’ll have your desire fulfilled.”

  “What do you mean?” Victoria asked, turning to Anna.

  “Ted wants you both to come to Sacramento. We live there, as you know. It would be such a pleasure to have you there with me. You could live nearby, and we could be great friends and share our dreams. Maybe even set up that social club for women. It is just as well I probably won’t travel east. That would give me plenty of time to get you established and introduced in town.”

  Victoria’s heart quickened. “That would be glorious.” She could very nearly picture it in her mind.

  “I can tell it would make you very happy,” Anna said softly. “But even if it doesn’t work out, I know we will remain good friends. I have greatly enjoyed your company. I know the years between our ages aren’t all that many, but never having children of my own, I suppose I tend to mother other women’s children.”

  The reminder of children caused Victoria to instantly close her heart. She wasn’t yet ready to give over this part of herself to Anna. The pain was too intense, and in spite of the fact that she’d heard it said that Anna and Ted suffered the same fate, Victoria couldn’t bring herself to discuss the matter.

  The light was already fading in the west, and with the absence of the sun’s warmth, the air had turned chilly. Victoria rubbed her arms. “It’s getting colder. I suppose I should go back to our camp and build up the fire. The men will be back from their surveying and expect to eat something hot.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Anna replied with a nod. “Let me gather up my sketching materials, and we’ll make our way back together.”

  Victoria waited while Anna picked up her pencils and sketch pad. Ted Judah had put his wife to work sketching out the countryside. He believed her sketches would speak for themselves and convince investors and legislators alike that the transcontinental railroad would have every possibility of making it through the Sierra Nevadas. It was with Anna’s prints and the men’s surveys that Ted hoped to inspire the president and Congress to offer aid in seeing the transcontinental line accomplished.

  Back at their campsite, Anna reached out to stop Victoria. “Please don’t be afraid to come to me if you should need to talk. I sense there is a great deal troubling you, but I won’t pry.”

  Victoria smiled and pushed her chestnut braid back over her shoulder. The older woman’s face was softened with concern and sincerity, and Victoria longed to know her better. “Thank you for being so considerate. You remind me a lot of my mother, except she would have happily pried to learn the truth.”

  Anna laughed. “I’m sure I would like her very much.”

  Victoria nodded. “Yes. I’m sure you would both be great friends.”

  Later that night, Victoria snuggled against Kiernan in the shelter of their tent. She knew nowhere else in the world where she could find such comfort and happiness.

  “Did ya have a good day?” Kiernan asked her softly and placed a light kiss upon her forehead.

  “Anna and I climbed up the mountain a ways, and she made some very lovely sketches. I’ve never seen country quite so beautiful, unless of course it was in Virginia.”

  “Ya miss it a lot, don’t ya?”

  Victoria stiffened. “I wouldn’t be happy there without you.” She prayed he wouldn’t start talking about sending her home to be with her uncle or aunt until her parents returned from across the sea.

  “Aye, and I wouldn’t be happy without ya here. Still, I know ya miss yar family. I know ya wish for a family of yar own.”

  The last thing Victoria wished to discuss was their lack of children. Now the issue had come up twice in one day, and the guilt she felt inside was steadily eating at her. She didn’t know why God had refused to give her a child, but the issue haunted her and made her life miserable. She had often thought that at least with a child, she might not be so lonely. But still no baby came.

  “Victoria?” Kiernan called her name softly.

  “Hmmm,” she said, trying to sound nearly asleep.

  “I hope ya know how much I love ya. Yar all the world to me.”

  “I love you too,” she replied and fell silent.

  He kissed her again on the forehead and said nothing more. For this, Victoria was grateful. Her heart condemned her for turning away from Kiernan and shutting him out. She knew the issue of children was one they would have to discuss, but she feared that once the details were laid out on the table, there would be no taking them back. She would have to face
that she had failed as a wife, and Kiernan would love her less because she could not give him a son.

  She was certain of this. More certain of this than of his promises to love her forever. A tear slid down her cheek, but she refused to wipe it away. Any movement would let Kiernan know she was still awake, and because his breathing had not yet fallen into its deep rhythmic pattern, Victoria remained still. She could not bear to disappoint him, and yet as each month passed by, she was more and more certain she would never be able to give him a child.

  What will happen then? she wondered silently. Will he leave me? Will he close his heart away from me? She forced herself to calm. It wouldn’t be good for either of them if she began to cry in earnest.

  Oh God, she prayed, please help me. I feel so inadequate—so hopeless. Is it too much to ask that you might give Kiernan the son he desires? That you might give me the child I long for?

  She thought of Hannah in the Bible. She, too, had prayed for a child, and God had given her Samuel. She had pledged that child to God. Perhaps, Victoria thought, this is what I’m doing wrong. I haven’t offered my child to God.

  I would do that, she said, her eyes trying to focus in the pitch-black darkness of her tent. I would give him back to you, Lord. I would raise him to love you—to serve you. Couldn’t Hannah’s prayer be mine?

  Kiernan began to snore and Victoria sighed in relief. He only did this when he slept on his back with her in his arms. Easing away from him, Victoria knew he would automatically reach out for her and roll toward her. He did this, and in turn the snoring ceased. Victoria found comfort in the fact that he was so certain she would be there. He put his arm across her waist and sighed.

  The action caused Victoria to choke up again. Would the day come when he stopped reaching out? If she couldn’t give him a child, would he no longer care whether she was there or not? The questions had no answers, and they pierced her heart with a sorrow she could not put into words. Her only hope was that God would hear her prayer.

  No, she thought, remembering her mother’s words from long ago. “God is your hope.” With or without giving her a child to love, God would still be her hope. She had to remember that. She had to cling to that one thought.

  11

  “Now, don’t cry,” Brenton said, sounding impatient. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Jordana shook her head. “You don’t understand. You’re leaving me here all alone.”

  “You have Caitlan,” Brenton encouraged.

  “Aye. I’ll not let ya get lonely,” Caitlan assured, looping her arm through Jordana’s.

  Jordana glanced into her new friend’s green eyes and found nothing but sympathy and assurance. Somehow, even though they’d known each other barely a month, Jordana felt confident of Caitlan’s sincerity. She was a woman of her word.

  “When do you suppose you’ll be able to write to me?” Jordana tried hard to control her emotions.

  “I’ll write just as soon as I can. I’ll go first to Baltimore and check out the situation there and speak with our solicitor, then I’ll drop you a line before going to see Uncle York. It shouldn’t take more than a week or so.”

  Jordana looked at him and thought he seemed so much younger than his eighteen years. His features were more refined than rugged, and she knew his constitution was not one that would lend itself to great feats of athletics. How in the world would he ever survive being in a battle? He could scarcely shoot straight. Why, she was a better marksman than he was!

  “You know this is madness,” she said, deciding one final time to try to dissuade him from going. “You can’t shoot straight to save your life, and on the battlefield it may well cost you your life.”

  “Jordana”—Caitlan gently squeezed her arm—“ya don’t want to send him off like this. Brenton can decide these matters for himself. He must be trustworthy, else yar folks wouldn’t have left him in charge.”

  Jordana wasn’t pleased with the rebuke, even if it was spoken in a kind manner. Still, she reminded herself that Caitlan was only trying to help. Perhaps she saw something in Brenton that Jordana failed to see. Cocking her head ever so slightly, Jordana reconsidered her brother for a moment. Could it be that he was truly as capable as Caitlan believed him to be? Always before, Jordana had figured them to be reliant upon each other; now Caitlan was showing her a side of Brenton she’d not yet considered. The side that allowed Brenton to be strong and independent—totally independent.

  Frowning, Jordana decided to keep the matter to herself. She adored Brenton and knew he loved her as well. He was always doing sweet things for her, always considering her needs. Well, most of the time. He’d certainly not considered her feelings when he arranged for her to stay at Deighton. But if that was the way he wanted it, then so be it. She’d have time enough to make her own way, and if Brenton never returned, that was exactly what she’d be doing.

  “I’ll pray for you,” she finally said. Leaving Caitlan’s side, she threw herself into Brenton’s arms. “Please don’t get yourself killed.”

  Brenton grinned. “I don’t intend to.”

  “I’m sure no one intends to, but people die just the same,” Jordana replied, then realized how macabre she sounded. Forcing every protesting particle of her being into submission, Jordana smiled. “But knowing you, you’d be too stubborn to die.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Brenton said, but Jordana knew he, too, was trying hard to sound brave for her. “You must both pray and keep each other encouraged.”

  “We will, won’t we?” Jordana replied, pulling back from Brenton to see Caitlan’s expression.

  “I’ll do me best to keep yar sister happy and out of trouble,” Caitlan replied.

  “But no prayers?” Brenton asked softly.

  Jordana knew Caitlan’s heart on the matter of God. They had spoken often of the deep wounds inflicted by the religious warfare of her homeland.

  Caitlan blushed and turned her gaze upward to the cloudy skies overhead. “If God is up there—He’s not listenin’ to me.” She looked back at Brenton and smiled. “I don’t believe in prayin’. No sense givin’ ya bad luck by pretendin’ I do.”

  “I don’t believe in luck—bad or good,” Brenton replied.

  They seemed almost at an impasse. Brenton stood quietly studying Caitlan, while she met his gaze with what looked to Jordana to be an expression of pain. Jordana couldn’t begin to understand how Caitlan’s misery and bitter past had led her to discredit the power of prayer. She wanted to question her more on the matter but knew that now wasn’t the time.

  Looking back at Brenton, Jordana expected to find him making a stance for supporting his beliefs. Instead, his face held a look of tender concern, and it was evident he had no desire to add to Caitlan’s pain by debating the issue.

  Deighton’s chimes rang from the bell tower and combined with several others from all directions in the city to announce midday.

  “You’ll have to hurry if you’re going to catch your train,” Jordana finally said.

  Brenton nodded and turned from Caitlan. “Please promise me you’ll stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

  Jordana smiled impishly. “Would you not go if I refused to promise?”

  Brenton laughed and shook his head. “No, but I would go with an easier mind if you would just do this last thing for me.”

  “Don’t say it like that!” Jordana declared and reached out to hug him tightly. “It isn’t the last thing I’ll do for you. I will behave, I promise. But in turn, you must promise to come back to me quickly. Mother and Father would never have wanted you to leave me here in New York by myself.”

  “But you won’t be by yourself,” Brenton reminded her. “You’ll have the school and Meg Vanderbilt and Caitlan. I know you’ll be in good hands, and you’ll hardly even notice I’m gone.”

  Jordana shook her head, tears spilling onto Brenton’s coat. “I’ll notice,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll notice.”

  12

&nb
sp; Baltimore shuddered under unreasonable chaos. An attitude of suspicion emanated from every corner of the city. Doors that had once stood open in welcome were now closed and barred. Brenton found it appalling that his hometown should suddenly seem so foreign. He had always loved Baltimore—more than any other city. Perhaps it was its stately grace and charm or the peacefulness of its citizens. But peace was far from evident now, and the sight of armed soldiers marching in menacing order appeared completely out of place.

  Baltimore was, in many ways, a city under siege. A cannon atop Federal Hill was directed not at the south, from where the enemy was known to be, but rather toward the city, where the enemy was hidden and could do more harm. Trains were stopped by Federal troops well before reaching the city limits and their contents searched and sometimes even seized. Questions were asked and answers demanded by blue-clad troops who seemed nervous and edgy in their new line of work.

  Brenton had argued to be let back into the city. The guards were reluctant to allow anyone in, but especially those who admitted to having been away for long periods of time. It didn’t matter to the man in charge that Brenton had lived in Baltimore prior to his departure and had family holdings in the city. Nor did it matter that Brenton had made his residence well to the north in New York City. The man saw Brenton as a potential threat and that was all.

  Luckily for Brenton, his good friend Able Stewart was one of the new soldiers to stand guard at the depot. Able had vouched for Brenton, pledging on his honor that Brenton would not take up arms against the Federal troops. The guard had grudgingly allowed Brenton admission into the city, but now that he was here, Brenton longed only to return to New York and forget that he had ever seen such sights.

  Anxious to understand what was happening, Brenton made his way first to Andrew Marcum’s office. The solicitor stared in surprise for several moments before instructing Brenton to take a seat.

  “I had no idea you were coming.”