Westward the Dream

by Judith Pella; Tracie Peterson

  “Father, I wish you were here with me,” Brenton said sadly. Below him the streetlights flickered hypnotically and carriages moved, sometimes three abreast, as people hurried from one place to another.

  “You would tell me what to do and how to go about making confidants of strangers.” He smiled to himself. “Or you’d berate me for ever allowing Jordana to set us upon this course.”

  He shook his head. It wasn’t fair to blame this on Jordana. She might have pushed for the adventure, but she wasn’t totally selfish in her desires. He knew that if no one else in the world cared about his dreams, Jordana would support them to the death. She loved him and he knew this. They had grown up to appreciate each other, to solicit each other’s advice, and to comfort each other in their losses.

  No, he wouldn’t blame Jordana. Not wholly. She had the adventurous spirit that he lacked. He had the vision and the dream but often found himself void of the nerve. Jordana quickly filled that void with her own enthusiasm and encouragement. She sometimes made him feel as though she looked down on him as a younger brother, instead of an older one, but she never meant it to be cruel. She had merely assumed a role he had allowed her to play. How could he fault her for that?

  Yawning, he put down the window and stretched. Tomorrow he would face the challenge of ferreting out information for Billy Vanderbilt, but tonight he longed only for the comforts of home. He pulled off his boots and lay back on the soft bed. He really should check out the equipment and make certain that nothing was broken.

  He yawned again. Chicago would no doubt have easy access to anything he needed, should anything be damaged. And since Billy Vanderbilt was picking up the tab . . .

  His mind drifted into hazy sleep, while the weight of the world and all his assumed responsibilities pinned him to the bed. Adventure was an exhausting companion.

  20

  “Frankly, I’m glad Brenton has something with which to occupy his time,” Jordana told Caitlan as they dressed for the day. “He seems to feel responsible to look over my shoulder at every turn, and that’s hardly the adventure I’ve been seeking.”

  “He just cares about keepin’ ya safe,” Caitlan replied, helping Jordana do up the buttons of her gown.

  “That may be,” Jordana said, barely waiting for the final button to be secured before hurrying across the room to the dressing table. She picked up her hairbrush and tried to work the tangles out of her hair. “But Brenton needn’t worry for me. I’m not as addlepated as he might think.”

  “I doubt he thinks ya to be addlepated,” Caitlan countered. “He’s a level-headed man, yar brother.”

  Jordana tied a ribbon in her hair and took up her bonnet from the table. “He is a good man. I’ve never said otherwise. I just wish he wouldn’t be so serious. He needs to enjoy life. Come on, let’s go find our way about town.”

  “I thought Brenton preferred that we stay here,” Caitlan reminded Jordana. “Besides, I’m thinkin’ it might be too cold.”

  Jordana frowned. “You may stay behind if that’s your desire, but I’m going exploring. Brenton says I’ve been remiss in studying what’s happening around me. I shall seek to remedy that this morning.”

  “Jordana, I want to say somethin’ first.”

  Jordana looked at the worried expression on Caitlan’s face and stopped short of opening the door. “What is it?”

  Caitlan crossed the room and took hold of Jordana’s hand. “I think of ya like a sister, and so I’m givin’ ya advice like one. But just as me sisters didn’t always care to listen to what the baby of the family had to say, ya might well ignore me too.”

  “Of course I won’t ignore you. What is it?”

  “Ya aren’t a little girl anymore. Yar a woman, full grown, and men look at ya as such. Ya don’t see the changes the way I do, but just in the last few months yar figure has done some remarkable things.”

  Jordana laughed. “I know I’m filling out a bit here and there.”

  “Not just a bit, deary,” Caitlan laughed. “I seriously doubt ya could scale a wall again, even if yar life depended on it. Just look at ya. Remember the work we’ve had to do on yar gowns. And tightness across yar bodice ain’t the only change. Ya walk like a woman now, yar hips naturally swayin’. Men look at ya in a different way. I’ve watched the change.”

  “I think you’re overly worried about nothing. I’m not a looker, not in the sense of being any great beauty. My figure may be filling out, and I might no longer resemble the boyish child I once was, but that doesn’t mean my spirit for adventure has changed. I won’t be cooped up here just because the bodice of my dress has grown tighter.”

  Caitlan shrugged. “I didn’t think it would do any good to speak to ya on the matter.” She retrieved her own bonnet and cloak and opened the door for Jordana. “So I guess I’ll just have to be comin’ along with ya.”

  Jordana grinned, securing her coat. “We shall have great fun.”

  Jordana made her way from the Tremont Hotel as though she were a woman with a real purpose and destination. She wanted to explore Chicago before Brenton could appear to tell her the idea was out of the question. Not that she’d necessarily let that keep her from enjoying her day outdoors, but she did like to heed his advice whenever she could. She felt it probably bolstered his confidence and ability to lead them. He seemed such a ridiculous worrier, but Jordana knew he honestly cared about her well-being. If only he wouldn’t try to fill their father’s shoes and fuss over her about everything, from money to her missing out on school.

  “Life is a school,” she had told him. And to her, it was the best of all possible classrooms. She had always been far ahead of her friends in school. Her time at the Deighton School was more college preparation than finishing and polishing of feminine charms, so her education couldn’t truly be found lacking.

  “Just listen to the noise,” Jordana told Caitlan as they stepped onto the city streets. “It’s like New York all over again. I love the city!” She tied the ribbons of her bonnet and waited while Caitlan did the same. It was a frosty winter day, but there was enough of a cloud cover to keep the cold from being unbearable, and for a change there was little wind.

  “It stinks,” Caitlan murmured.

  “It probably smells far worse in the summer when the lake isn’t frozen.”

  “Then I’m glad we didn’t come then. I’ve never cared for the smell of rotting fish and wet canvas,” Caitlan replied. “And I heard tell when the cattle are brought into the stockyards for shipping on the trains, the whole city smells of dung.”

  Jordana snickered. “But I’ll bet you will love the land out west. It stretches out in vast prairies and deserts, or so I’ve read. Just imagine all that fresh air. Don’t you simply love the adventure of it all? The exploration—seeing things for the first time?” Jordana glanced around excitedly at the surrounding buildings. “What a wonderful life we have. Just think how different it could be.”

  “I know very well how different it could be.”

  Jordana stopped and looked at Caitlan for a moment. Yes, she did know a bit more about life than Jordana did. Jordana figured that because of her growing closeness with Caitlan, the Irish girl would automatically identify with Jordana’s lifestyle. But this simply wasn’t the case. Caitlan never appeared overly at ease, and no matter where they traveled or how, Caitlan always assumed the role of maid to their little entourage no matter how strenuously Jordana and Brenton protested. Perhaps old habits were hard to shed.

  “You know, sometimes I forget your background,” Jordana finally said.

  Caitlan nodded slowly, a faraway look in her eyes. “But I can’t.”

  Jordana wished she could better understand her friend. Sometimes it appeared as if they knew each other quite intimately. Then at other times, Jordana didn’t think she knew Caitlan at all. Caitlan seemed to be good at keeping her feelings and thoughts buried deep inside. Feelings for everything except Brenton. Jordana smiled. Maybe that was the very key she needed to get Caitl
an to open up and share her heart.

  Pressing on, Jordana hailed a cab and grinned when Caitlan seemed surprised at her boldness. “Come along,” Jordana insisted. “I have money for our outing, and I intend that we should have a great and glorious time.” Reluctantly Caitlan joined her as Jordana instructed the driver. “We should like to see something of the city.” She pressed money into the palm of his gloved hand and waited for him to acknowledge it. “Take us wherever this will allow and tell us everything you can about the sights.”

  The man grinned. “I’d be happy to, miss.”

  The carriage driver took them up the precisely ordered streets, which were icy now and banked with shoveled snow. Some neighborhoods were fashionable with lovely carriages in the road and well-dressed people gracing the walkways. Others were less impressive with great swells of garbage in the gutters and animals rooting around for their meals. The river was unimpressive, as were the stockyards with their lingering stench, making both Jordana and Caitlan cover their noses with a handkerchief.

  “Have ya had enough of adventure?” Caitlan teased.

  “So sometimes adventure smells less than favorable,” Jordana replied, laughing. “I’m still not sorry we came out.” Looking up the street, Jordana could see that a crowd had gathered to line the avenue.

  “What’s going on up there?” she questioned the driver.

  “I’m not sure, miss.”

  “Drive closer. I want to have a look.”

  “Jordana, are you certain this is a good idea?”

  Jordana tucked her handkerchief back into her sleeve and cocked her head. “Caitlan, you may go back to the hotel if you wish, but I’m getting out to see what the fuss is all about. Perhaps they are having a parade. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  “I’m doubtin’ there would be a parade on a cold day like this,” Caitlan replied.

  The carriage driver pulled as close to the growing crowd as he dared. Jordana thanked him for his kindness and jumped down unassisted. Turning to look back up at Caitlan, she read the anxiety registered on the older girl’s face. “Come on, we’ll be fine!”

  Caitlan stepped down from the carriage and shook her head. “I’m not thinkin’ this is a good idea, Jordana. There are a great many dangers in a crowd like this. Too much can happen when ya get men riled up for any reason.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a goose,” Jordana protested. She reached out and pulled Caitlan along with her. It was hard to imagine why the girl insisted on being such a ninny when it came to a simple parade. After all, Caitlan had crossed the entire Atlantic by herself. Why should a little crowd and parade unnerve her?

  Jordana pushed her way through the mostly male throng, slipping once or twice on the icy sidewalk. Several women were pressed close to the sides of men who were obviously their protectors in this mob. Their expressions were the first clue to Jordana that something other than a pleasantry might be at hand.

  Still, she was determined to see whatever was going on, and so she elbowed her way through like a common ruffian. It was in the midst of pressing for a place near the front that Jordana accidentally stepped on the booted foot of one man. She looked up and smiled sweetly, batting her eyes apologetically, and met the stern countenance of the injured party. The man’s entire demeanor changed as she continued to smile.

  “I’m so sorry,” she offered.

  “Why, little lady, you’ll get swallowed up in this crowd. Let me make you a way.”

  Jordana loved the feeling of power from his reaction. Maybe there was something to those womanly wiles her mother had often spoken of. She grabbed hold of Caitlan’s hand, noticing the disapproval in her expression, as the broad-shouldered man edged out other onlookers and helped Jordana to the front of the line.

  “Thank you, sir. You are most kind.”

  He beamed her a smile just as an armed Union soldier came forward to move them all back. “Step back and clear the streets. We’re marching over a thousand prisoners through here, and you’ll be trampled in the process.”

  Jordana looked to Caitlan and then to the soldier in front of her. He reminded her a bit of G.W. Only G.W. was an officer, and this man clearly appeared to be no different from many of the other soldiers who were even now being dispersed among the crowds.

  “Sir, what prisoners are you talking of?” Jordana asked him, again smiling and batting her eyes.

  The man scowled at her and spit on the ground. “Reb prisoners. There’s an exchange going on, and these men are being shipped out. Now, get back like I told you or I’ll let them Johnny Rebs run you right over.”

  Jordana was disappointed that her womanly appeal had not worked in this case, but she was undaunted. At least until he reached out to push her back. Caitlan came to intercede, calling the man several names before admonishing him about his manners.

  “Have ya no better sense than to be manhandlin’ a lady?”

  “A lady wouldn’t be standing here with the likes of this mob,” the soldier countered. “If you’re her nursemaid, then I suggest you get her out of here.”

  “Now, wait just a minute—” It was the man who’d helped get them to the front, and he wasn’t at all happy with the soldier. “This lady has just as much right to see the enemy marched out in defeat as anyone else. You apologize to her.”

  The man leveled his rifle at the crowd. “This is the only other word you’ll get from me on the matter. I said move back and I mean it. This enemy isn’t marching to defeat. They’re marching back to their homes and will no doubt be back in the war within forty-eight hours. At least one of them will probably attempt to kill one of us before the trip is over, and I don’t need the distraction of ladies . . . or gentlemen for that matter.”

  “We shouldn’t be exchangin’ prisoners for any reason,” one of the nearby observers offered. “Should’ve just put a bullet through their heads and been done with it.”

  No one replied to this. In fact, the crowd around Jordana became rather quiet and, surprisingly enough, seemed to move back a pace from the street. It was almost as though the reality of the matter had finally sunk in.

  Jordana suddenly realized that Caitlan’s grip had become quite painful. “Caitlan, you’re hurting me.”

  “Oh!” Caitlan replied, putting her hand to her mouth. “And for sure I’d almost forgotten what I was doin’. I’m sorry.”

  They could hear drums beating out a cadence, and both turned to see the gray-clad soldiers being herded through the icy Chicago streets. Some men seemed scarcely able to stand, much less keep step with their comrades. Jordana hadn’t known what to expect, but what she saw there was more disturbing than she had imagined it would be.

  The men were ragged, their uniforms torn and dirty—sometimes not even complete. They must have been freezing in their threadbare coats and shoes with large holes. They blended together in a hodgepodge of colors ranging from gray to tannish brown to a butternut. Different-styled hats and coats were apparent, and very seldom did more than two or three men appear to be dressed alike, but they all shared the same weary expression.

  Worse still, some of the men had been gravely wounded. Many slipped along on crutches, often missing a leg or foot, the flap of their pants leg blowing awkwardly to and fro. As they drew closer, Jordana witnessed the evidence of other wounds. One man wore a patch over his left eye, and his right sleeve had been pinned up because there was no longer an arm to fill it.

  “You Johnny Rebs should’ve died in the field,” a man nearby was yelling. Others joined in.

  “My brother’s dead because of the likes of you. I hope you die slow like he did. I hope you know the pain and suffering you’ve caused!” someone else called out.

  “The Union forever!” the man standing next to Caitlan yelled. This drew a rousing chorus of voices who chanted the same.

  Jordana grimaced at the hatred. The crowd seemed to cheer each curse and suggestion of death.

  The soldiers were now directly in front of where she stood. Row after row, sombe
r faced and silent, they marched by, hardly seeming to notice the crowd that jeered and called out names. Someone threw a tomato at one soldier. He glanced down at the splattering of red, then looked up at the gathering of people. Jordana met his stare and saw the emptiness in his eyes. His devastated expression took her breath.

  The Union guard, who only moments earlier had threatened her, now stepped forward to nudge the idle soldier with the bayonet affixed to the end of his rifle. The southerner remained stoic, glancing only at the guard for a moment before wiping the tomato pulp from his coat. This done, he resumed his place with his comrades and hobbled off toward the transport that would take them home.

  Jordana felt ill and longed only to get away from the scene. She backed up against Caitlan and turned to her. “Come on,” she said simply.

  Caitlan nodded, immediately understanding.

  They slipped from the crowd, believing themselves to be unnoticed, but the man who’d so kindly helped them to the front now followed after them in protective concern.

  “Are you all right?” he questioned Jordana.

  “I had hoped we were there to see something wonderful,” Jordana replied. “Instead, I’m ashamed to have even been a part of that crowd.”

  The man nodded. “I have a carriage. Allow me to take you wherever you need to go.”

  “I hardly think that would be appropriate, Jordana,” Caitlan whispered. “Ya don’t even know the man.”

  But Jordana felt weak in the knees, and she longed for nothing more than the privacy of her hotel room in order to think through the events of the past few moments. And the cab they had taken there was now gone. “I’m Jordana Baldwin,” she said, extending her hand. “And this is Caitlan O’Connor.”

  “George Pullman,” the man replied, tipping his hat. “Say, you wouldn’t be related to those railroading Baldwins, now, would you?”

  Jordana nodded and gave him a weak smile. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. My father is James Baldwin. He has involved himself heavily with the building of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, and there are other Baldwins, distant relatives of his, who are also fond of the rail works.”