Separate Roads

by Judith Pella

  Jordana glanced over at Caitlan, whose gaze was fixed out the window. She had been sitting this way for the last fifteen minutes. Jordana didn’t want to tell her that “a watched pot never boils.” Not when Sacramento had to be around the next bend. Like her two companions, Caitlan’s anxiety had to be mixed with anticipation and fear. None of them yet knew what they would find in Sacramento. If Kiernan had died, it would surely be great grief and sorrow. But Jordana made herself believe only the best. She just could not believe God had brought them this far only to mourn a dead brother.

  “Do you see anything yet?” Jordana asked her sister-in-law.

  “Only dust and rocks and trees. But it can’t be too far ahead. The driver said we’d get there well before sundown.”

  “That should be soon, then.”

  Jordana glanced at Brenton, who had also drawn the middle seat that day and so had no window to occupy his time. But he was looking at Caitlan and did not notice Jordana, who smiled to herself at the sight. She imagined that the trip in such close quarters must have been difficult for both him and Caitlan, but they had been reserved with each other to the point of being aloof. Even Mrs. Burleson had commented to Jordana about the situation.

  “Either those two love each other a great deal, or they are sworn enemies—but I’ll wager my dessert at the next stop that it is the former!” And Mrs. Burleson would only risk her dessert on a sure thing.

  Jordana didn’t know how she was going to get those two ninnies together. Maybe Victoria would have some ideas.

  Perhaps Jordana’s efforts would be better spent in working out her own “love” problems. She wondered if she would ever be able to heal so completely from her hurt over G.W. as to find true love. But did she want that really? She wanted adventure and independence, too. Could she have it all?

  Certainly not with Damon. How could she have been attracted to him in the first place? She was all but certain now that he might very well be a bit “touched in the head.” Not so much because of his questionable business activities, but more because of his practically obsessive attitude toward her. Most normal men would have taken the hint long ago and would have moved on to greener pastures. Not Damon. Sometimes she thought he was actually encouraged by her rebuffs.

  Rich O’Brian would certainly not behave so.

  Hmm . . . why would she think of Captain O’Brian? Perhaps because of all the men she had encountered since coming west, he was the only one who didn’t get all mushy around her. She appreciated that. She liked a man she didn’t feel she could handle. He definitely had his own mind, and that made him pleasantly unpredictable. He didn’t treat her like something between a goddess and an imbecile. But he did treat her with respect—she could tell that even when he was teasing her and browbeating her about her behavior. G.W. had been a lot like that. She had felt on an equal footing with him, and she felt the same way with the captain, even if he was constantly rescuing her from one disaster after another.

  Yet, despite that sense of equality, she felt a great respect for Rich. He was smart and levelheaded and strong . . . so very strong. Not to mention tall and good-looking. Closing her eyes, she felt a little tingle course through her as she began to visualize his handsome visage.

  “There it is!” Caitlan broke into Jordana’s disconcerting thoughts.

  Jordana leaned forward to glimpse out the window and could see buildings up ahead and the definite beginnings of a town. She grasped Caitlan’s arm and smiled reassuringly. No matter what greeted them in Sacramento, they would be together, to love and support one another.

  In another ten minutes, the stage rumbled to a stop at the Sacramento terminus of the Central Overland Stage Company. The wheels had barely stopped when Caitlan opened the door latch and jumped out. Jordana followed quickly just as the driver was about to put a step in place. He gave both young ladies a disapproving look for not waiting to be properly escorted in a more seemly fashion from the coach.

  Quickly forgetting him, Jordana began to look wildly about for familiar faces. For a moment she despaired, and Caitlan came up beside her with a look on her face Jordana was certain mirrored her own. What if their telegram hadn’t arrived? What if Victoria was too wrought with grief to meet them? What if . . . all manner of outlandish scenarios raced through Jordana’s mind.

  Then she saw Victoria step from the station building.

  “Victoria!” she cried and ran like a child into her sister’s arms.

  It took a full minute before she remembered poor Caitlan standing there alone, not knowing a soul and no doubt feeling forlorn. Jordana reluctantly broke from her embrace and tugged Victoria to where Caitlan had now been joined by Brenton.

  “Oh, Brenton! Look at you!” exclaimed Victoria. “You are taller than Papa now. And”—she turned a smiling face toward Caitlan—“you must be Caitlan.” She threw her arms around her sister-in-law and kissed her cheek. “I don’t care if we have never met. You are my sister, and I love you already.”

  Caitlan could not speak because of her tears, which flooded even more when a tall redheaded figure appeared close to Victoria.

  “Me baby sis! Look at ya!” he said, holding out his arms.

  “K-Kiernan!” Caitlan managed. “’Tis really yarself?”

  “None other.”

  “Oh my!” And she accepted the invitation of those open arms and wrapped her own around the brother she had not seen for so many years.

  After everyone else had been properly greeted, the party turned their attention to the pile of luggage on the sidewalk.

  “Good thing I have borrowed Charlie Crocker’s wagon!” Kiernan said.

  “Brenton had to pay extra for all his photographic equipment,” commented Jordana. “But he couldn’t leave it behind. There are sure to be many new and exciting things for him to capture here in California.”

  “I’m doubtin’ ya’ve seen anything like it,” said Kiernan proudly.

  And in that single comment Jordana realized this was truly Kiernan and Victoria’s home. She wondered vaguely if she would ever find a place to call home—her very own home.

  ——

  Caitlan’s bewildered sense of being lost had disappeared the moment she had set eyes on her brother at the station. Though she knew she could not be closer to anyone than she was to Brenton and Jordana, there was still something about her own blood. Perhaps it was the Irish in her, but seeing Kiernan had made Caitlan feel connected as never before. Perhaps it was seeing the face of her dead father again in Kiernan’s green eyes and in the shape of his nose and the rise of his forehead, and the red hair that had definitely come from their mother, and their ma’s full, expressive lips. It was so sweetly comforting when he put his arms around her, for it was briefly like having her parents back again.

  But something else had occurred to Caitlan when that mop of red hair had materialized in the crowd at the station. Perhaps Brenton and Jordana were right after all with their talk of faith. During the stage trip Caitlan had all but convinced herself that her brother would be dead. That she had come thousands of miles, all the way from Ireland, only to have her quest end in sorrow. Something inside her made her fear believing that good could happen to her. Yet, since coming to America, only good had been happening, at least when one looked at the broad picture. She had found Brenton—ah, especially, Brenton—and Jordana, her dearest friend. She had been kept safe through countless dangerous adventures. And now, the best thing of all—she was at last with her brother and he, and his wife, had accepted her, literally, with open arms.

  Could it be that God had answered prayers she had not even uttered? Could it be that He really did know and care about a poor Irish girl who had never given God His due?

  Could it be . . . ?

  “You must eat something, Caitlan,” came Victoria’s voice into Caitlan’s wandering thoughts. “I’ve heard how that stage food is, and we need to put meat on your bones.”

  “I’m sorry . . . guess I was daydreamin’ a bit. . . .” C
aitlan took the plate of biscuits and snatched one off before passing the plate to Jordana.

  They were all seated at the table in the O’Connor kitchen, where a delicious warmth radiated from a fire in the stove and an even better warmth came from the people surrounding Caitlan.

  “You must be tired,” said Victoria.

  “Not really,” said Caitlan. “I’m just . . . overwhelmed. Everything is so much more wonderful than I could have imagined.” She reached over toward Kiernan, who was seated at her other side at the head of the table, and took his hand. “We were so afraid for ya, Kiernan, that ya might be—” She shook her head as if knowing such thoughts were not for this joyous gathering. “But ya are here, and so are we—finally! And ’tis almost as good as getting a chance to know our da.”

  Kiernan’s eyes were glistening with moisture, and his fingers tightened around Caitlan’s hand. “I’m only a big brother, but I’ll take care of ya just like a da, if ya’d like.” He smiled and added, “But how would ya be knowin’ that I look so much like our da? Ya were no more than a babe when he died. In fact, it’s been so long, I can scarcely remember.”

  “I had their wedding photograph to remind me,” Caitlan said softly. “And I talked to our sisters. They told me stories about Da. Believe me, Kiernan, ya are more like our da than any of the boys. Except for that patch, if ya don’t mind me saying. Da never had something so dashing and distinguishing on him.”

  “Dashing!” Kiernan laughed with disbelief.

  “See, I told you,” put in Victoria. “I’ve been trying to tell him how attractive it is.”

  “I think he looks like a pirate,” teased Jordana. “A very nice pirate, though.”

  “Women!” chuckled Kiernan. “And what do you think, Brenton?”

  Caitlan lifted her eyes, taking this opportunity to freely gaze at this man she could love only in secret. Her heart fluttered and she felt heat rise in her cheeks.

  “Well . . .” Brenton swallowed as he considered a thoughtful answer. “It does give you an air of authority. I’d say you will have a much easier time managing your crews now.”

  Everyone laughed at this, and Brenton looked bemused as if unaware that he had made a joke. How Caitlan did love this serious, unassuming young man. Then his eyes momentarily strayed to hers. Their gazes met, and she hated herself for thinking just then of that shared kiss back in Omaha. The memory, and the fact that she chose just then to think about it, made flaming heat surge into her face. She jerked her eyes quickly away from his, hoping no one had noticed.

  “Are you quite all right?” Jordana asked, and there was something in her voice that seemed to say she knew quite well what was happening and wasn’t going to let Caitlan off easily.

  “Sure’n I’m fine,” Caitlan lied. “I was just thinkin’ how sorry I am I didn’t get here sooner. I hope ya’ll forgive me that, Kiernan?” She thought it was a good dodge, even if it opened up another can of worms.

  “I never gave it a thought,” said Kiernan. “I believe ya came at just the time God wanted ya to. And I am too happy to see ya to be questionin’ anything else.”

  Caitlan wondered if she should explain the reasons for her tardiness. But that only made her glance once more at Brenton, who, thankfully, was occupied elsewhere at the moment. At any rate, explanations weren’t really necessary. Besides, Brenton would be returning east soon enough to continue his work with the Union Pacific, so why torture herself? She just had to be thankful that she had her brother now and would somehow make a life for herself in his new home.

  30

  The next morning Jordana, full of excitement, awoke before dawn. Unable to return to sleep and worried that her restlessness would wake Caitlan, who shared the bed with her in the spare bedroom upstairs, she carefully slipped from beneath the covers. After dressing quietly and wrapping a shawl around her shoulders against the early morning chill, she made her way downstairs.

  A lamp burned in the kitchen, and she followed the light and was greeted by Victoria and a warm fire in the stove.

  “You are an early riser also,” smiled Victoria.

  “This morning I am. There are so many new and exciting things to look forward to, I just couldn’t sleep another minute.”

  “Let me pour you a cup of tea. I’ve just poured myself one.” Victoria took a cup from the cupboard and filled it from a china teapot and brought it, with her own cup, to the table. She sat opposite Jordana. “So what is the first thing you want to do while you are here?”

  “Goodness! I don’t even know what there is to see and do. A real gold mine! Yes, I’d like to see one of those for certain. Then, do you suppose we could go to San Francisco sometime? And I have heard there are huge trees not far from here called redwoods that are so huge around a coach could drive through one if it was of a mind. And I’d like to see—”

  “Wait a minute,” laughed Victoria. “That’s enough to keep you busy for a good long time.”

  “I guess I am a bit overenthusiastic.” Jordana sipped her tea thoughtfully, then looked up at her sister. “I want to see it all, Victoria. Not only California, but the whole country. No—the whole world! Imagine seeing the wonders of the Orient or the dark jungles of Africa. Or, if I want to be more civilized, London and Paris. There is simply no end to what is out there. And then, after I see everything, I’ll write books about it all.” Jordana paused, surprised at her own words. She had never really considered writing but now realized it would be perfect for her. Her enthusiasm continued to build. “I always wondered how I would use my travels constructively, and writing is the perfect way. Wouldn’t it be a great encouragement to other women who would like to travel? Not only to hear about exotic places from a woman’s point of view, but also to know that a woman can do such things.”

  “But you haven’t done them yet,” Victoria remarked.

  Jordana tried to ignore the fact that her sister’s tone was rather droll. “I will. I just know it.”

  “Well, Jordana, I hate to be the one to burst the bubble of your little fantasy, but adventure isn’t all romance and glory as you seem to think. There’s a lot of reality that goes with adventure, and not all of it is pretty.”

  “I always envied you for your bold journey all the way to California.” Jordana looked at Victoria as if for the first time. She realized this was no longer the big sister who had set out eight years ago, full of youthful zest and grand anticipation.

  The person who stared back at Jordana was a twenty-seven-year-old matron, with sad eyes and a drawn, almost reproving expression. She nearly reminded Jordana of her Aunt Virginia, despite the fact that they were not related by blood. It was just a glimpse, a brief flicker of familiarity that in another moment was gone, but the hint of it was bad enough. Virginia had suffered a hard life from a disastrous marriage and too much drink. She looked ten years older than her actual years.

  “Has it really been so hard?” Jordana asked her sister plaintively.

  “I’m happy,” Victoria answered quickly, defensively. “But happiness hasn’t been dished out to me on a silver platter. I’ve lived in mining camps, in filth and squalor, around men who could make a woman feel dirty just by the way they looked at you. I’ve gone hungry and cold. I’ve—oh, never mind, you would probably just think it’s part of the adventure.”

  “I’m sorry it was so hard. But—” Jordana stopped. She wondered about Victoria’s money and how she could have been hungry, but she didn’t say anything because she suddenly felt as if her sister were a stranger.

  “And, Jordana, speaking of men, how are you going to find a suitable husband traipsing all over the world? You won’t run into a lot of gentlemen in the places you want to explore.”

  “Why, Victoria!” Jordana could not keep from exclaiming. “You do sound like Aunt Virginia!”

  “Well, it is something you should think about. You could ruin your reputation doing the things you speak of—”

  “If I do decide to marry, it will be to a man who looks
at me for the person I am and doesn’t judge me for silly societal standards that say nothing of the character and quality of the person but only gauge the exterior.” Jordana set her cup down a little too hard in its saucer. It made a clank sound.

  “Silly standards? Oh, Jordana.” Victoria shook her head and took on an annoying maternal appearance. “The notions you have are silly and just not practical for the world we live in. I know Mama has some of the same feelings, but at least she was able to adjust them to the practical, real-life world.”

  “Men don’t have to do that! If a man goes exploring, he’s a hero.”

  “That’s just—”

  “No! I don’t give a fig about society! If someone doesn’t make the attempt to change it, then we will continue in ways that even you must see are repressive and unfair.” Jordana could hardly believe she was having such a discussion with her sister. She’d never imagined finding such disapproval in her own family.

  “I’m sorry we disagree,” Victoria said softly.

  Jordana could tell she was no doubt thinking the same thing. “Well, disagreement is a healthy thing.” But Jordana only half believed it.

  “I suppose so.”

  They concentrated on their tea, but the tension remained. Then Victoria refilled their cups, which Jordana took as a good sign that their “words” hadn’t spoiled things so badly that Victoria no longer wanted to be around her sister. Jordana searched in her mind for a neutral topic to discuss.

  But Victoria spoke first. “I may not agree with your dreams, Jordana, but you deserve to have them come true. At least one Baldwin woman should.”

  “What do you mean?” Jordana asked, her eyes searching her sister’s, finding great sadness there.