by Lynn Landes
"Hey Cowboy." She waits for him to look at her and grins a wicked smile, "Triplet girls." Her reward is to watch the color fade from his face.
“What?” he asks huskily.
His brothers roll with laughter as she waddles away patting her belly with a smug look of satisfaction. Dalton stumbles to the couch and looks at his son, in Chase’s arms. “I can’t leave now.”
"Of course not," Chase states. "I'll escort the next shipment. We'll make sure this one gets through, and you will stay close to home with your family."
“Thank you, Chase. I’m glad you’re home. I wish you’d consider staying this time. I could use the help.”
“I’m glad I didn’t miss this. I’ve been thinking about a change of pace for a while.” He tosses his nephew lightly into the air. A giggle erupts from the chubby cherub, and they all laugh. “You could use more security here.”
“Absolutely.” Dalton turns to go, mumbling, “Three girls,” he is reeling from the shock.
“Daughters are special,” Steele states thinking about his daughter, Violet.
"Daughters! Surely I am a blessed man?" Dalton hurries to check on Cassie.
"Let's go outside buddy," Chase exclaims and takes his nephew out to the front porch. The sun is setting, and he sits quietly with him in a rocker. Soon the small blonde head is nodding off, and he holds him, content to be part of this family.
“It’s good to be home.”
Chapter 6
The following five days pass quickly for Bronnah. Once the Captain discovered they were nurses, he asked for help when the doctor took too ill and could not work. Cholera was rushing through the steerage class. Vomiting and diarrhea were rampant amongst the poor, especially in such dire conditions.
This morning she delivered a baby boy for a second-class couple and returned to her cabin exhausted. Lizzy spent every second with Jules Verne. They danced, played games, ate together and laughed. If the permanent smile on her face didn't give her away, the blush on her cheeks at the mention of his name would.
A knock at the cabin door has Bronnah sitting up quickly from a quick rest. “Coming,” she calls and glances in the mirror to fix her hair before answering.
"Please, can you come?" Mary, one of the twins from dinner at the Captain's table is standing with her hands balled into a handkerchief. Bronnah looks at the fear in her eyes with the tear-stained face, and she pushes back her anger.
"Of course," Bronnah grabs her medical bag and pulls the door shut behind her. She follows her wondering what to expect. "What's wrong?"
“Alice started complaining of stomach pain last night. It hasn’t stopped. You must help her!” Mary whimpers and begins crying once more.
“I’ll do my best,” Bronnah answers and follows her inside the cabin. This suite is the largest cabin on board the ship. It has a sitting room, a massive window, private water closet, and two bedrooms.
A scream sounds out from the bathroom, and the mother comes rushing out. "Oh, Thank heavens! Mary, make us some tea." Mary hurries to do as ordered and the woman begins to pull Bronnah quickly to the bathroom.
“I would ask for your utmost discretion with this situation. Alice is in here.” Her hands are trembling with fear for her daughter as she opens the door.
Bronnah has a sinking feeling when she enters the room. Alice is panting and doubled over in pain. “Make it stop, Mother!” She begs, and her face is blotching from tears and pain.
“Tell me what her symptoms are,” Bronnah demands, thinking of cholera.
They glance at each other before answering. "I'm pregnant," Alice groans, biting back another wave of pain. "I started cramping and bleeding last night. Can you help me?"
Bronnah’s heart sinks. “Again, I will do what I can.”
Turning to the mother, Bronnah guides her to the door and tells her to give them some privacy. "I'll call you if I need you."
“But, I… I need to help my daughter.”
Alice screams as another wave of pain hits her.
“I’m afraid you can’t, Mrs. Brooks. Alice will have to do this on her own.” Bronnah shuts the door and faces the young woman balled up on the floor crying in pain.
Six hours later, Alice suffers a miscarriage. Once she is resting comfortably in her bed, Bronnah allows them to visit her. The three women cry together, and she turns to leave them to grieve. “Thank you, Ms. O’Dalaigh,” Mary says holding her sister's hand.
Bronnah nods too exhausted to speak. Mrs. Brooks walks her out of the bedroom and stops her at the door to the stateroom.
“Ms. O’Dalaigh please accept my apologies for offending you earlier. If anything happened to one of my girls…” she walks to a table and pulls out an envelope of cash. “Take this,” she murmurs softly pressing seventy-five dollars into Bronnah’s hand. Immediately offended Bronnah is surprised when the woman will not let go of her hand.
"Listen to me. You may find that you need it. New York is not the place you want to be without means. I would suggest you head west as quickly as possible. I realize I spoke harshly to you, but what I said was the truth. The Irish are not well thought of. Many places refuse to hire and hang signs specifically stating that fact."
“I see. Thank you, I won’t lie and pretend I couldn’t use the money. Have you been there often?” Bronnah asks deciding to keep the money. Satisfied Mrs. Brooks releases her and walks over to pour a decanter of wine into a glass and sits on a couch.
"This will be my second trip. I had hoped not to return, but my husband sent for us. He works at the Stock exchange and will be splitting our time between England and New York." She watches Bronnah process the information and sighs. "I can't thank you enough. Will my daughter be alright?" she asks glancing at the door of the room when she hears Alice crying again.
“She should be, with patience and love. Have her checked by the ships doctor before you leave.”
Bronnah sits next to her, “Please, tell me why the Irish are being mistreated?”
"From what my husband tells me it's the jobs. So many people are arriving every day, and it is making jobs harder to find. This ship alone is full of laborers. I'm afraid you will be surprised by what you find."
Bronnah frowns and stands up. “Thank you for the information and the money.”
"You're welcome."
She walks back to her cabin exhausted and drops on the bunk to sleep until dinner.
“Wake up, Bronnah. I brought you breakfast.” Lizzy sits a tray beside the bed and turns the light on. Opening a window, she lets fresh air drift into the cabin and waits for her to sit up.
“I slept all night?” she gasps. “What time is it?”
"Past ten, dove. I heard about your day. I spoke to the Captain, and the doctor is feeling better. You will be able to rest now. Drink your tea." Lizzy is oddly calm and sits in the chair waiting for her to eat.
“Thank you.” After sitting quietly for a moment, Bronnah sighs and sits her cup down. “Alright, out with it.”
Lizzy doesn’t bother to deny it. “Jules has asked me to marry him.”
“What?” she gasps, fully awake now.
“I know it seems sudden, Bronnah, but … I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
“Of course not, but what do you know about him?” Bronnah asks sitting her food aside and scooting to the edge of the bed.
"More than I would know about a stranger in America. I know that he's a twenty-five-year-old lawyer, like his father. He's going to New York to work." Lizzy beams when she speaks of him. "We share so many of the same beliefs, Bronnah. He wants to travel, and he writes the most amazing stories. One day he wants to be published. But most of all I know that when I'm with him, I'm happy."
“I don’t know what to say, Lizzy.”
"I said yes. I can't imagine marrying another man after Jules, say you'll be happy for me," she pleads grabbing Bronnah's hands.
"Of course, I'm happy for you!" They hug, and Lizzy sighs in relief.
“
Good, the Captain has agreed to marry us tonight.”
“Tonight!” Bronnah leaps to her feet. “I… what?”
Elizabeth laughs and begins rushing around the room. "I know it's sudden, but we didn't want to wait. Of course, I'll give you the money to repay the marriage broker. It's in an envelope in your bag. I will move to his cabin after the ceremony, and you'll have the suite to yourself. Won't that be nice?" Lizzy begins tearing through her gowns to find the one she will be married in.
"Wear your evening gown," Lizzy orders, "I had it pressed for you this afternoon. I found a photographer on board too!" The rest of the day passes in a blur of excitement. Elizabeth wears a silver, off the shoulder gown, trimmed in tiny roses. Bronnah wears a lilac gown in a similar shape, and both are glowing with the hope of a new future.
The wedding goes off without a hitch. It is, oddly enough, attended by a great many people in first class. The dining room was transformed, and as Jules and Elizabeth exchange their vows, Bronnah wiped away tears of happiness for her best friend. She sends a silent prayer that this marriage be blessed with many years of joy.
“Presenting, Mr. and Mrs. Jules Verne,” the Captain announces.
Bronnah laughs, and they dance, enjoying the evening under the stars.
In five days, they will be arriving in New York. Watching Lizzy, she can't help but worry about what is waiting for her in New York. Elizabeth will leave, as she should with her husband. Their lives are changing so fast, she can only pray and trust that coming to America was the right decision. "Hope is a choice," her mother reminded her and Bronnah decided to cling to it and trust that she will have a chance at happiness.
“I will chase my dreams, Mother,” she whispers as she stares at the stars from her porthole window.
Chapter 7
“Here is our newest rail car,” Pierce points.
Chase whistles as he looked over the dark green rail car with the name "Rivers Refrigeration," in bright white letters. "Did you design this, Pierce?" Impressed he stares at his brother with new eyes.
"Yes, she's thirty-six feet long with heavier insulation and ice compartments on each end. It's not the rail car that I wanted you to see. Notice the name, Chase."
Chase frowns and looked back at his brother.
"I'm confused. Why does it say Rivers Refrigeration?
"That is really what I brought you here to see." He pulls out a sketch and hands it to his brother.
“What am I looking at?”
The paper is folded up and worn like it has been in his pocket for a little while.
"Rivers Refrigeration is my dream, not ranching." He waits for the explosion, but it doesn't come.
Chase is quiet for a moment before he speaks. “Pierce, it’s good to have goals of our own. Tell me more.”
“I knew you’d understand.” Pierce grins and unfolds the paper.
“This is a design for an ice making machine. I’ve applied for a patent and if it comes through it will revolutionize ice making. We’ll be able to go longer distances and offer products which have never been successfully transported. No more shipping ice from long distances and paying exorbitant fees.”
“Does it work?” Chase asked with a grin.
“Of course,” Pierce frowns in mock offense. “I wouldn’t put our family name on it unless it did. This car will be the test car. I have a working model in my bunkhouse ready to be installed. I haven’t told the family yet, Chase. I want to surprise them.”
“I’m impressed, little brother. Why are you telling me?”
“I guess, I thought if anyone would understand the need to forge my own path, it would be you.”
Chase laughs, “That I do, but apparently I missed out on the brains. You clearly got most of those. Tell me how it works.” The next hour is spent discussing the plans and listening to his brother explain how the machine will work. His admiration for Pierce grows by the second.
Walking over to the rail car Pierce knocks on the heavy metal, “The problem is that we can only store so much ice in each compartment. One tank, if you will, on each end of the car. The cold air from the ice is blown into the compartment housing the product being carried, forcing warm air up and out of vents, while the melted water flows out through drains in the floor…” he points below the rail car and stops talking.
"What's wrong?" Chase asks staring at his brother, then to the rail car. A dark black ooze is pooling on the ground between the tracks.
"Nothing should be coming out of this car. It's never been used." Pierce pulls on the double doors and swings them open before Chase can stop him. The doors slam back against the metal with a loud clang. Chase steps up behind him, and his heart stops for a moment.
Once the scent of death fills your soul, it can never be forgotten. Four young women in various states of dress, all bound and gagged with their throats slit. Pierce yells and stumbles back into his brother who steadies him.
“Damn!” Chase swears knowing what he must do next. “Pierce, I need you to go get the Sheriff.”
“I …” Pierce is frozen in horror.
Chase steps in front of him to block his view. “Sheriff!” he growls. Pierce runs to the side of the car and vomits. Chase pulls himself up inside the car to check for possible signs of life, but he knows what he will find. The bloated bodies are already stiffening up. One, by, one he checks them for a pulse. Each one had their throat slit, some have their eyes closed, and others are frozen open.
All have their arms and wrists tied behind them with no apparent signs of a struggle. Squatting he looks closely at their ankles and wrists. Chase is surprised to see a mark on the wrist of each woman that resembles a flower. The ropes are snug but not digging into the flesh. Behind him, he hears Pierce mounting his horse and riding for the Sheriff. He continues investigating, looking for any clues as to who murdered them and why they were left in this rail car.
Sheriff Howe enters the railway yard, with Pierce leading the way and stops to stare in horror at the nightmarish scene in front of him. The August heat is not helping with the stench and Pierce wonders how they didn’t smell it before now. “Chase, what’ve we got?”
“Sheriff. Four young women, all dead, showing no sign of a struggle. Each one is bound and gagged with their throats slit. We won’t know any more until the bodies are removed. Pierce, how long has this rail car been here?”
Pierce is pale and fighting back another wave of nausea. “God, how do you stand the smell, Chase? Come out of there!”
“Smell? Oh,” glancing back at them, “I imagine it’s something I grew accustomed to during the war.” They stare at him with handkerchiefs over their mouths and walk away. He leaps out of the car and follows them into the main rail yard.
“I’ll need specific details on the car, where it came from and who had access to it, Pierce. Sheriff we will need to know everyone in town, during the same time.”
“All our cars are built in New York, but they make several stops on the way. Dalton will have those records. I’ll see to it.” Pierce hurries away, not making eye contact with his brother.
"Let's get to work, Sheriff, the bodies are already starting to swell from exposure, and I need to inspect the car for any clues."
Sheriff Howe stares at him and nods. "I'm sorry your break is getting cut short, Chase but I'm glad you're here. The Undertaker will be on his way."
Chase stands back as the women are removed from the car and loaded into the back of a wagon before being covered with a tarp. “I want a full report on the condition of the bodies.”
“Of course. Obviously, they were murdered. I want to keep this quiet, Chase until we have more information,” Sheriff Howe states.
“I understand. We need to search the car for any evidence. How long do you think it’ll take him to prepare the bodies?”
"I'd say no more than two hours. The county will pay for the burial, which will be a pine box each and unmarked graves. Unless we find evidence to suggest who they are. I'll start search
ing the other cars; hopefully, we will find something."
Three hours later, they come up empty-handed. No weapons, no clues, no paperwork and thankfully, no more bodies.
“I need a drink,” Chase sighs and orders a beer at the saloon, before turning to the Sheriff. “What’s taking him so long?’
“Four women were murdered Chase, let him do his job,” Howe snaps.
“What’s there to do? Measure them for a box, check for identifying markers or evidence. I think we both can agree that he won’t find anything,” Chase growls and sips his beer.
The Dusty Boot Saloon is beginning to get busy when the undertaker arrives. “Sheriff, Marshall, I’ve got your reports.” He sits heavily and removes his hat.
Mr. Brigs is a furniture maker by trade and undertaker when needed. “We had four female victims of varying ages. Each had their throats cut. I found no evidence of abuse on their bodies. They did not fight back, probably due to the amount of opium in their bodies. It leaves a signature, blue lips, and fingernails.” He sips on a whiskey and stares at them.
“This is crazy. Any other evidence?” Howe asks.
“They each have an identical brand on the side of their right wrist, below the thumb.” He points to his own wrist and continues, “A flower of some sort. Not sure what that is about.”
“Any other clues?” Chase questions.
"None that I could tell. They were dressed like painted ladies, and that is all I can tell you." Sitting back, he waits for his glass to be refilled.
Chase and the Sheriff are stunned by this news.
“So, I’ve got four whores and four boxes. Who’s paying for all of this?” Mr. Brigs asks without sympathy.
“Thank you, Mr. Brigs. Just bill the Sheriff’s office and we’ll pay for the funerals,” Chase replies. They discuss the details of the burials, unmarked graves, pine boxes and agree on a price.
“Chase, I’m going home, and I recommend you do the same. Let me know what Dalton finds out about the rail car,” Howe says standing up.