Separate Roads

by Judith Pella

  “Then it is an official order. We shall close the bank immediately, and I shall take the opportunity to drive you home. If we should, well . . . let’s just say . . . take a longer route to get to your place, then that’s just the way it will be.”

  Something inside her set off a very quiet warning, but Jordana ignored it. She could handle Damon Chittenden. After all, he knew better than to take advantage of her. Brenton had made it quite clear that he’d brook no nonsense from Damon in regard to his sister. And she had threatened him as to what might happen if he tried to kiss her again. Oh, I’m just being silly, she thought, giving Damon a slight smile.

  “Very well, Mr. Chittenden,” Jordana said, eyeing the ledger in her hand. She still wanted more answers, but for now she would simply enjoy the day.

  10

  By the time Brenton saw Damon Chittenden’s carriage stop outside the house, he was beyond worried. He was furious. He’d gone to pick up Jordana from the bank, only to learn that the bank had closed early and that his sister was nowhere to be found. For hours now, he’d worried over her whereabouts, and with the sun fading fast on the western horizon, he had begun to fear for her life. Rumors ran rampant in the small town. Indian wars were threatening, Confederate guerrillas were known to be roaming up and down the Missouri River, and not only that, but Jordana’s position at the bank seemed to make her very vulnerable to robberies and ruffians.

  Hearing her laughter as Chittenden helped her down from the carriage only irritated him more. She hadn’t even considered his feelings in the matter. She had apparently given him no thought whatsoever. How could she be so inconsiderate? Without caring how it might appear to the neighbors, Brenton threw open the front door and stormed out onto the walk.

  “Chittenden, I want a word with you,” he demanded.

  Jordana turned quickly, an expression of worry marring her otherwise beautiful features. Seeing her looking so fetching only made Brenton angrier. She had grown up so fast, and now that he was totally responsible for her, he found the job exhausting. What was he thinking in bringing her here?

  “Go inside, Jordana. I wish to speak to Mr. Chittenden alone.”

  “What for?” she demanded.

  “Go inside.”

  Jordana opened her mouth to protest, but Brenton narrowed his gaze and pointed to the house. “Now!” he said firmly.

  She gave him a look that suggested she’d see to him later, and no doubt she would, then bid her companion good-evening and did as her brother had asked her. Then, standing there face-to-face with Chittenden and realizing Jordana was safe from harm, Brenton began to calm a bit. It wasn’t at all like him to grow so angry, but of late everything seemed to irritate him. It was impossible to explain it or hope that anyone else might understand, especially when he himself didn’t.

  “Where have you been?” Brenton asked Damon in a tone of forced calm.

  “We closed the bank early and went for a carriage ride,” Damon replied. “I’m sorry we didn’t consult you first, but Jordana indicated that you would be hard to find. We figured we could easily make it back before you missed her.” He gave Brenton an uneasy smile and added, “Jordana said you were occupied with some business transaction. I hope it worked out well for you.”

  Brenton recognized that Chittenden was a master at changing the subject. If he hadn’t known it for himself, he would have known it from Jordana. Refusing to be caught up in explaining his own situation, Brenton frowned.

  “Chittenden, I’m not at all pleased you would risk my sister’s life and reputation by taking her out unchaperoned and without my permission. As you are no doubt aware, there are constant concerns with the Indians, conflict with the riffraff who are pouring into town in great numbers, and conflict with a looser standard of ethics, which suggests that because we live far from the civilization that birthed such rules of conduct, they are no longer necessary to live by.”

  “I assure you, Mr. Baldwin, risking your sister’s life or reputation was the furthest thing from my mind. We only sought to enjoy the day. And I should point out that we only traveled in areas under the observation and protection of the army.”

  “It’s not good enough, Chittenden. She’s only eighteen and under my guardianship.” He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and took a deep breath. “I’ve not given you any reason to believe that I would disapprove of her accompanying you, if she so desired. I simply ask that you would come to me first. I was very worried.” He took another deep breath and forced himself to relax.

  Chittenden nodded. “I am sorry, Mr. Baldwin. It was not my intention to worry you. In fact, when calmer times prevail, I would very much like to discuss the possibility of taking my acquaintance with your sister to a higher level.”

  Brenton felt his calm returning. Jordana was safe. Nothing else mattered. “Are you speaking of courtship?”

  Chittenden nodded. “That I am. But we can leave this for another time.” He tipped his hat and smiled. “Once again, please accept my apologies.”

  Brenton nodded. “Good evening, Mr. Chittenden.”

  With Chittenden regaining his seat in the carriage, Brenton turned back to face the small white clapboard house. Now he would have to deal with Jordana, and he already knew that would be no easy task. She was rapidly becoming harder and harder to handle. He supposed most of it was his own fault. After all, he’d given in to her whims so often, she’d come to believe it an acceptable practice. How could he explain that she needed to conduct herself more properly? It was bad enough for her reputation that she worked in a bank. She knew as well as he did that the other women talked about her behind her back. She knew herself to be snubbed on occasion at church or social events by the ladies of society. But while the women kept their distance, the men did no such thing. And it was this more than anything that worried Brenton. Jordana was naïve. She couldn’t see the problems that lay in store for her future.

  She spoke openly and commonly with men as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And if truth be told, Brenton figured her to prefer their company over that of her own gender. He’d tried to talk to her about the impropriety of it, but Jordana had defended herself, saying that here in the West there was no time or place for eastern etiquette. He knew that was true to a degree. Women had to work hard to exist in this harsh land. There were few comforts and often the necessities were just as absent, but he hated seeing Jordana lose the gentility that their parents had worked so hard to instill in her.

  He sighed heavily and moved toward the house. Life in Omaha was rapidly losing its charm. He had given great consideration to returning to New York, but with the war continuing to drag on, he feared someone might try to force him into service for the Union, and then he’d be left having to explain not only to them but to his parents how he had been forced to sign a letter of agreement refusing to bear arms against the South. No, the smarter thing would be to get Caitlan on to California.

  He reached the tiny porch and stopped. Caitlan was a whole different issue, and one that was also getting completely out of hand. Brenton could hardly bear to live under the same roof with her anymore. Not because it brought him any displeasure, but because he felt the situation was becoming quite inappropriate. When they had first begun their travels, they had merely been brother- and sister-in-law. It was innocent, and no one thought anything improper about their keeping company. But that was before Brenton realized he’d fallen in love with the woman. Now, seeing her late into the evening, then upon rising first thing in the morning, as well as any other time that they were all gathered in the house together, Brenton had begun to think of her not as a sister but as a desirable woman. The stress of it all was beginning to severely alter his personality, and often Jordana chided him for being moody or out of sorts.

  And he was.

  Shaking his head, he knew the matter wasn’t going to resolve itself while he stood there reviewing the past. Reaching for the door, he braced himself for the angry woman, possibly women, he would find
inside.

  Sure enough, Jordana paced in front of the fireplace like a lioness about to pounce on her prey. “How dare you embarrass me like that!”

  Caitlan stepped between Jordana and Brenton. “Ya’d do better to calm down before takin’ up this fight.”

  Brenton held up his hand as if to silence them both. “I was worried about you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You treat me like I’m a child,” Jordana declared, coming across the small room. “I don’t care what you think. You are not my boss. I will make my own choices, in my own time, and it doesn’t mean I have to consult you just because you’re older.” She pushed past the now silent Caitlan and came to stand directly in front of Brenton. “I don’t need a guardian.”

  “Mother and Father put you in my care,” he said simply. Brief and to the point was the best way to argue matters with Jordana. Her mind usually worked logically, but this time her emotions were overwhelming her senses.

  “I’ve told you before, just as I told them, I don’t desire to be under anyone’s care. I’m fully capable of caring for myself. I think I’ve proven that by taking on a job that pays better than anything you’ve been able to earn.” She instantly clamped her hands over her mouth.

  Brenton knew she regretted her words, but they hurt just the same. She was right. He’d been unable to supply them with any form of steady income. His dreams of photographing the country had been put aside in order to find a way to earn them money to move further west, and every time they began to see the possibility of continuing their trip, something came up to put a halt to their plans. The latest problem came in the form of Indian uprisings and threats to the safety of travelers moving west. But those were issues for another day. Right now he had to put his pride aside and deal with Jordana’s wayward spirit.

  “You are under my care,” he stated, working hard to keep his own temper in check. “You’ll abide by my wishes, or I’ll pack you on the first means of transportation and send you back to our parents.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” Jordana countered. “You have no right to treat me this way. You know full well that I know how to take care of myself. Damon Chittenden was only being nice. He simply offered me a carriage ride on a pretty day. That’s all!”

  “That’s not all,” Brenton said, irritation edging his tone. “He intends to court you. He’d like to marry you.”

  “Oh, what nonsense. I’ve no intention of marrying anyone!” she declared loudly.

  “Well, maybe you should tell Mr. Chittenden,” Brenton suggested, his tone just as loud.

  “Maybe I will!”

  They were nearly nose to nose when Caitlan interceded. “Look at ya two. Ya need to calm down and leave off with the screamin’. Ya’ll have the neighbors over to be seein’ to the trouble.”

  “Stay out of this, Caitlan,” Brenton said angrily. “This is between Jordana and me.”

  “And for sure I’m seein’ that. But ya’ll not be solvin’ anything out of anger.”

  He turned and looked at her. That was his first mistake. Her spirited expression made her most desirable. How was a man supposed to think rationally when she had eyes that green—no, they were almost turquoise—staring him down. He felt his resolve crumbling, and the only way he found to deal with his helplessness was to lash out.

  “Caitlan, this doesn’t have anything to do with you! I’m not going to ask again for you to stay out of it. Just because your brother doesn’t have the decency to concern himself with your gallivanting doesn’t mean I’ll follow suit with Jordana.” Realizing too late what he’d just said, Brenton was instantly regretful. He hadn’t meant to take his frustration out on Caitlan. In fact, she was the last one he had wanted to strike out at.

  He refused to look Caitlan in the eye. He focused instead on his sister. Jordana’s expression changed instantly, but not in the manner he’d expected. The anger dissolved to a stunned look, and she reached out, not for Brenton, but for Caitlan.

  “He’s just mad at me, Caitlan. Pay him no mind,” she said in a comforting tone to her friend.

  Brenton knew he was rapidly losing control of the situation. “This has gone on long enough. Jordana, I think the best thing for you to do would be to go back to Mother and Father. I’ll wire Father for the money to send you to them, and for money to send Caitlan to Kiernan.”

  “No! I won’t be goin’,” Caitlan declared. “Ya’ll not be orderin’ me around, and I’ll not be takin’ yar charity. Go where ya will, do what ya like, but I’ll be seein’ to meself. Ya may be thinkin’ me nothin’ but a no-account Irish, but I have me standards and morals. And if me brother keeps hisself from worryin’ on my account, mebbe it’s because he trusted yarself to take care of matters.” Her voice sounded unsteady as she finished.

  Brenton had no other choice but to face them both. Jordana had her arm around Caitlan’s waist, and there were tears in Caitlan’s eyes—as well as fire. He’d seldom seen her so worked up, at least not when he was the focus of her attention. Raising his arms in defeat, he went to the door and took his black felt hat from the wall. He couldn’t talk to them about his feelings. He couldn’t make them understand that he feared for their safety—that he feared he wouldn’t be man enough to keep them from harm.

  Slamming the door behind him, Brenton headed in the direction of the small photography studio he’d set up. There was seldom enough business to keep him occupied and certainly not enough business to merit paying rent on the place. He only had the place because Hezekiah Chittenden saw a potential in his work with the Union Pacific, and because the place was really too small for much of anything else. The elder Chittenden had taken pity on Brenton, willingly loaning him the use of the building until a paying businessman showed up. So far there had been no takers. Not for the small two-room shop, nor for the photographer’s talents.

  Feeling very sorry for himself, Brenton gave serious thought to giving up on everything. Maybe he should just wire his father and request money enough to bring them all back to New York. He grimaced and muttered an apology as he nearly collided with several uniformed soldiers.

  “Is that you, Baldwin?”

  Brenton looked up to find Rich O’Brian trailing behind the soldiers. “Hello, Captain. I guess I wasn’t being very observant.”

  “You had me wondering what was so fascinating about the ground.” He grinned at Brenton, causing his thick mustache to twitch a bit.

  “I just had something on my mind.”

  “Let me guess. Is that something about five foot two, one hundred pounds, and packs a fine wallop?”

  Brenton couldn’t help but smile. “If you mean my sister Jordana, then yes. It has a great deal to do with her.”

  O’Brian sobered instantly. “Is she well?”

  “Oh yes, she is well, but she can be a handful. I pity the man whom she finally lets marry her.”

  With a look that wavered between sympathy and pity, O’Brian said, “I’ll be praying for you.”

  Brenton shook his head and glanced heavenward. “I need all the help I can get.” Then curiosity got the better of him. “What do you mean ‘packs a wallop’?”

  O’Brian laughed. “Don’t fret about it. I’ll tell you another time. Right now I need to catch up to my men. We’ve been summoned to a meeting.”

  “Have a good evening, Captain, and if time permits, you must stop by and see us again soon.”

  Although he had already turned to leave, O’Brian stopped and turned to offer Brenton a grin. “Maybe after you get your female problems under control.”

  Brenton nearly moaned out loud. “I could die an old man before then.”

  He heard O’Brian laughing all the way down the street. For not knowing his sister that well, O’Brian certainly seemed to have a fixed opinion of her.

  Passing by the telegraph office, Brenton paused and looked at the sign for several moments. He could go inside and put an end to their misery right now. His father would no doubt have the money wired to the bank in record
time, and they could easily purchase tickets on a steamer or cross the river by ferry and take the stage or train. They could be home in New York in ten days, maybe even a week, if the war didn’t cause them any interference.

  Of course, Jordana would hate him forever, and Caitlan . . . Oh, Caitlan, what have I done to you? He wanted to crawl under a rock when he remembered the way he’d acted and the things he’d said. He’d hurt her, and there was no way he could take back his harsh, unfeeling words.

  Again Brenton looked to the skies, but this time there was a prayer on his heart. “Help me to make things right again. I never meant to hurt either one of them. Not by my words or actions. Or for that matter, my lack of action.”

  11

  When Brenton received a summons the following morning to meet with Peter Dey, chief engineer for the Union Pacific, he felt a tremendous exuberance. He’d been trying for days, even weeks, to get an appointment with this man, and finally his moment had come.

  Striding into the Union Pacific’s plain office, Brenton found himself one of several men on hand to meet with Dey. So much for his thought of a quick meeting.

  The men nodded in greeting, and Brenton did likewise as he slowly scanned the room. The furnishings were nothing to brag about. Wooden floors and simple, unadorned furniture made up the lobby. A large oak door, void of any placard to announce its occupant, was closed to them. With a sigh, Brenton slipped into a polished wooden chair and waited for his turn.

  “This isn’t anything like the offices old Durant has for himself back in New York,” one man was saying to another. “I was there a couple of weeks ago. You should have seen it. Marble fireplaces and black walnut paneling on the walls. The carpets on the floor were probably worth a hundred dollars each.”

  “Do tell,” the man replied. “Well, maybe that’s where all the building of the Union Pacific is taking place.” The men laughed heartily while Brenton fidgeted with the buttons on his coat.