Thunder on the Plains

by Rosanne Bittner

  He trotted his horse up and down two swelling hills, weaving through more pines, his keen ears still picking up the sound. He could hear it better now, knew it was a woman who was either hurt or in great mourning. He reached a clearing and saw a wagon farther out in a shallow valley of yellowing grass. A woman was bent over a body, weeping. He looked around, seeing no other wagons, no Indians, wondering who had shot a gun, and why. “Get up there, Buck.” He urged the horse into a gentle lope.

  The woman looked up then and noticed him. Colt saw her reach for something, and in the next moment she raised a rifle and aimed it at him. He quickly drew his horse to a halt, Buck’s hooves pushing up the sod. The horse turned in a circle and whinnied, shaking his mane. “I’m here to help,” Colt called out to her. “I heard a gunshot, heard you crying.”

  “Don’t you come any closer!” she screamed. “I’m alone here!”

  The voice and slender figure told him she was young.

  “Ma’am, I don’t mean you any harm! My name is Colt Travis, and I’m a scout. I know this country. Please, put the rifle down and let me help you. What’s happened?”

  She stood rigid for several long seconds, her shoulders jerking with each sob. She finally lowered the rifle slightly. “You can…come closer,” she said, the words choked.

  Colt cautiously approached, seeing the terror and sorrow in her pretty brown eyes. He guessed she was perhaps seventeen or eighteen years old, and her thick dark hair hung past her shoulders. He could see the body on the ground now, an older man. Part of his head was missing, and the grass around his shoulders was soaked with blood. Colt drew up his horse, still hanging back, noticing then that there was blood on the girl’s hands and arms and dress. “That your pa?” he asked.

  She nodded, her face wet with tears, her nose running. “My mother…is in the wagon. She died last night…had a bad cough for weeks. Pa wouldn’t bring her out of the wagon and bury her…couldn’t face her death. He blamed himself…for bringing her out here. And then today I…I tried to tell him again he had to bury her. He said he would. I went…inside the wagon to dress her and fix her hair…and then I heard the gunshot.” She shook with more sobs, lowering the rifle a little more and staring at it a moment. “He must have just…turned the rifle around and…put it to his head. I guess he just couldn’t…live with the guilt.”

  Colt’s heart went out to her, a young girl orphaned in a strange land. He knew the feeling of being suddenly alone, and this was a horrible way to lose one’s parents. He slowly dismounted. “Why don’t you put down that rifle? I’ll bury your folks for you and I’ll get you to some help.”

  She looked at him helplessly, and suddenly her eyes rolled back and she slumped to the ground. Colt hurried to her side, kneeling down and pulling her partially into his arms. He smoothed the hair back from her face, studying her pretty features, wiping her tears. “I don’t even know your name,” he muttered. She groaned and he gently laid her back into the grass, then went to his horse to retrieve a canteen. He rushed back to her, kneeling down and dripping a little of the cool water over her face. She gasped and opened her eyes again, staring at him a moment, looking confused. She reached up for him, and he pulled her into his arms.

  “Everything will be all right,” he told her gently. “I’ll take care of you.”

  November 12, 1858

  Mr. Lincoln has lost the senatorial race, but I do not believe he is through politically. His loss was only because of the way our districts are divided. Although Mr. Lincoln and his antislavery Republican Party actually received the greater share of votes, Mr. Douglas won the majority of seats by district and thus is again senator. However, the speeches Mr. Lincoln gave during his many debates with Mr. Douglas over the past months have made him very popular in Illinois and, in fact, throughout the North.

  Sunny put down her pen, wondering if her father was right in fearing the country could end up going to war over the slavery issue. She could not imagine that anyone could think slavery was right, but the South was standing firmly in favor of keeping the long-used, barbaric practice. She and her father had followed Abraham Lincoln’s political career, and Bo was convinced Lincoln’s eloquent, impassioned debates with Douglas would eventually take him to the presidency. He had contributed heavily to the antislavery Republican Party during the current senatorial race, and soon they would travel to Springfield to speak with Lincoln and urge him to run for president. Bo was ready to contribute even more to such a campaign; but although he was firmly against slavery himself, his intentions for getting Lincoln elected were not to end slavery, but rather to have a man in the White House who was in favor of a transcontinental railroad.

  Mr. Lincoln has time and again shown a great interest in a railroad that would span the continent. The only thing that could hold up a vote for such a railroad is the awful possibility of a war between northern and southern states. I dread the thought of such a war, and I also dread knowing that it could be several more years yet before we can even begin thinking about building the railroad. I am so afraid Father will not live to see his dream. He has had a little trouble with his heart, and it frightens me, for I am not sure I could go on living if something happened to him.

  She again put down the pen, wishing they had made more progress toward the railroad so that her father could see that the project was at least under way. So far they had still not even been able to convince close friends to contribute a dime toward the dream. Her father had been forced to pay certain congressmen to introduce a railroad bill, but that bill lay dying, overlooked now because of the growing political problems over slavery. They kept in contact with Thomas Durant, who was also campaigning heavily for the railroad, and Bo had invested in Durant’s Pacific Railroad Company, the bare beginnings of what they hoped would one day be the parent company of a lucrative transcontinental railroad.

  Through her father, Sunny was personally acquainted with both Lincoln and Durant, and with several congressmen and senators. She was only sixteen and a half, but she felt much older and wiser for all she had learned over the past months since returning from the West. Her sixteenth birthday party had been one of the more spectacular parties in Chicago. She had made her grand entrance, coming down the spiral staircase of the Landers mansion on her father’s arm, presented to a crowd of over one hundred fifty dignitaries and their wives, Chicago’s wealthiest, as well as several political figures, including Abraham Lincoln.

  She had worn baby-blue silk, the full bustle skirt of the dress cascading in a tumble of lace and diamond-trimmed tufts. The skirt trailed out in a train at the back, and the scooped neckline of the bodice revealed her bosom in a more enticing cut than she had ever dared to wear before. A brilliant diamond necklace glittered at her throat, a gift from her father, and she had worn elbow-length white silk gloves, silk stockings, and white slippers. She had Vi to thank for helping her dress and giving her encouragement that nervous day. Although her father had hired a new tutor, a widow named Hannah Seymour, and had also hired a personal maid for her, the only woman she could really talk to now was Vi, with whom she had grown even closer. Still, she had not even told Vi of her secret wish that day, that Colt Travis would be in the crowd of spectators, seeing her as beautiful as she could possibly be. She wondered what she might have seen in his eyes.

  The thought made her turn back in her journal to the notes from her trip west. We have moved past the Nebraska Sandhills and are now in what Mr. Travis calls High Plains country, she read softly to herself. She scanned further ahead. I never thought I could survive such a life…Mr. Travis has been very quiet since Mr. Jessup died, and I think he is in deep mourning. I feel sorry for him…She turned a few more pages. Colt Travis is leaving us. Tomorrow will be the saddest day of my life, for from then on I will never see Colt again…I went tonight to tell him good-bye, and he held me.

  She put her head back and sighed. Colt had become just a pleasant memor
y now. Young men had begun calling on her, with particular attention coming from twenty-four-year-old Ted Regis, the son of board member and bank owner Harold Regis. Her father had had time to cool down since the big blow-up with the board of directors, and they were on speaking terms again. He had not objected when Regis’s son had asked to call on Sunny, and Sunny had decided it was time to begin seeing young men. In fact, Ted would be there soon to take her to the theater. Mrs. Seymour, who accompanied Sunny wherever she went, would act as a chaperone. Ted was a mannerly but somewhat cocky young man who seemed totally taken with her, but Sunny had no special feelings for him, nothing like the wonderful feelings she used to get around Colt.

  She rose and walked to her dresser, taking another look at herself in the mirror. She recognized her own beauty, but she recalled Miss Putnam telling her, “Don’t let your looks go to your head.” What mattered was a person’s heart and strength. Still, she had become very aware that her looks could sway a congressman’s vote. Sometimes her father swore it was more her beauty than his money that got them into the offices of men who at first refused to see him and listen to him talk about his “damned railroad.”

  Someone knocked on the door to her room then, and Mae Bitters, her personal maid, came into the room. “Your Mr. Regis has arrived for you,” the young woman told her.

  “My Mr. Regis? He’s just a friend, Mae.”

  Mae giggled, looking Sunny over. “Sure he is. I wouldn’t want to be ‘just friends’ with the likes of him. Those gray eyes and that handsome smile would melt me right away!”

  “Mae Bitters, I swear all men make you melt.”

  “All men with money are good-looking to me, Miss Sunny, and that’s the only kind of man who ever comes around here!” She laughed again, and Sunny could not help a giggle of her own. Mae was from a poorer section of town and had been delighted to get a job in the Landers mansion. She was close enough to Sunny’s age that there were things they could share; but Mae was too flighty to share truly deep feelings with her, and too uneducated for Sunny to talk to her about political events or some of the bigger financial decisions Sunny knew her father was plagued with making. Still, in many ways Mae was already a better, more loyal friend than the young women of her own class.

  Mae helped Sunny pin on her hat, a deep red velvet with pink feathers in it. It matched her red velvet dress that had been perfectly tailored to her voluptuous figure. Forty tiny velvet buttons fastened the dress down the middle of her back, and the puffed shoulders were tapered into tight-fitting long sleeves. Mae draped a fur cape around her shoulders and tied it at her throat, then stood back.

  “How do I look?”

  Mae shook her head. “Do you know how women envy you? I would hate you myself if I didn’t know how nice you are, Miss Landers. When I was first hired, I thought you would be bossy and rude to me, but you’ve made my job so pleasant.” Mae smiled, a gentle smile in a plain face. She was slight of build, her coloring pale, her hair a light brown.

  “Thank you, Mae,” Sunny answered. “That was a very nice thing to say. Did my father get home yet?”

  “No, ma’am. He’s still at his office, I think.”

  Sunny wished her father would not put in so many long hours. She did as much for him as she could, and would be with him now if he had not insisted she accept this date with Ted Regis. The man seemed concerned that his workload was interfering with Sunny’s social life, and she could not convince him that she would rather be with him, going over books and helping plan his railroad investments.

  She went to the door to leave, hearing a commotion downstairs as she stepped into the hall. She recognized Eve’s voice, and her heart fell. What did the woman want now? Vince and Eve hardly ever came to visit, and Vince was often conspicuously absent from board meetings where his father was in attendance. The two men had hardly spoken since the argument over Bo’s railroad investments. Stuart, on the other hand, had apologized and helped his father convince at least two men on the board of directors for the freighting and supply companies to make a contribution toward his father’s project.

  “Her date can wait,” Eve was saying loudly to Mrs. Seymour downstairs.

  Sunny looked over the balcony rail to see an embarrassed-looking Ted Regis running his fingers nervously between his collar and his neck. Eve was already heading up the stairs, skirts rustling, her steps deliberate and stomping. Eve had given birth to a third child the past summer, another daughter. The birth had been difficult, leaving her weak and sick for several weeks. But she was fully recovered and as ornery as ever, motherhood having done nothing to soften the woman.

  Mae watched in wide-eyed fear as the woman came to the top of the stairs. She had never liked Eve Landers, who was rude and demanding. “Leave us!” the woman barked. Mae scurried past them to the backstairs that led up to her own room, but Sunny held Eve’s eyes boldly.

  “I was just leaving for the theater, Eve,” she told the woman. “It’s very rude and unmannerly of you to barge in on us this way. What on earth do you want?”

  “We’ll talk alone.” Eve stormed into Sunny’s bedroom, and Sunny reluctantly followed, closing the door. “I think it’s very rude and unmannerly of you to keep us in the dark on some of the things your father is up to.” The woman looked her over scathingly, her jealousy of Sunny’s beauty obvious.

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about your father investing a good sum of money from Landers Enterprises into some fly-by-night company called the Pennsylvania Fiscal Agency. It’s already done now. Vince came home and told me about it, but don’t tell me you didn’t know he was going to do it!”

  Sunny pulled on her silk gloves. “Of course I knew, but as owner and founder of Landers Enterprises, it’s my father’s business in whom he confides in when he makes investments.”

  “Things like this have to be brought up before the board! You know that!”

  “The board is there only to help run the business and make certain policy decisions, Eve. My father might not be able to control all the funds of the subsidiaries anymore because he gave them over to Vince and Stuart, something, I might add, that he now regrets doing. But he does have control over the parent company, and over the railroads, thank goodness. As a seventy-five percent stockholder, he can make certain investments of his own choosing without consulting anyone. When it comes to investments that have to do with the railroad, he doesn’t bother taking it to the board because Vince and most of the others have made it very clear how they feel about the idea! They don’t want any part of it, so my father is making sure they have no part in it!”

  Eve glowered at her, her face darkening with rage. “That man is going to bankrupt us!”

  “The Pennsylvania Fiscal Agency is a very solvent company founded by Thomas Durant. Do you really think anything Mr. Durant creates and supports is going to be a fly-by-night company, as you put it?”

  “Mr. Durant is as crazy as your father when it comes to this ridiculous transcontinental railroad! I swear, both men would sell their teeth for it!”

  “Mr. Durant is a very wealthy man. He and Father have some excellent connections in Washington, and are on very good terms with Abraham Lincoln, who just might be our next president! They know what they’re doing, Eve. They have vision. They see far beyond the small world you and Vincent live in!”

  “Oh, yes, you would know! It’s you he takes to New York and Washington with him, you he confides in, instead of his sons!”

  “Vince made it very plain what he thought of his father’s dreams, Eve. This is the way he wanted it, so don’t come crying when Father goes ahead with certain investments without consulting people who don’t give a damn!”

  It was the first time Sunny had used a swear word. Eve’s eyes widened, and she straightened, surprised not just by the word, but by Sunny’s firm retort. Always before it had
been easy to make the girl shiver in her shoes, but in the last few months Sunny had changed dramatically. It worried Eve, who had been sure that once Bo Landers died, it would be easy to browbeat Sunny into giving up control of what she received in Bo’s will.

  “I suppose you think that just because Father has been seeing a doctor about his heart, it’s time to stop him from spending too much money before he dies,” Sunny said coolly. “That way there will be more left for you when he’s gone.”

  “It’s something that must be considered,” Eve answered. “The man is getting senile, Sunny. Can’t you see that?”

  Sunny struggled against tears at the thought of her father’s somewhat failing health. She forced herself not to show her panic in front of this woman who would love to see her crumble. “I’m only sixteen, Eve. Would you say I’m senile? I think the same way he does. I see nothing wrong in his investments, so that makes him no different from me. Father is as bright and creative as he ever was! And I won’t have someone in my house who is waiting with baited breath for him to die! Now, get out!”

  Eve’s face turned even darker. “I see he’s training you well. He’s making a real man out of you, isn’t he? When are you going to be a woman, Sunny? When are you going to learn to leave the business world to men, take a husband, have children, and let the men make the decisions?”

  “Is that what you’re doing by being here trying to talk me into changing my father’s mind?”

  “This is the only way I have of doing my part. I’m not privy to the board meetings and the books like you are! And God knows you’re the only one who might be able to talk some sense into Bo Landers!”

  “I don’t need to. He’s doing some very sensible things, as far as I’m concerned. I told you once to leave. Shall I get the butler to show you out forcefully?”

  Eve sucked in her breath and shook her head. “You poor thing,” she scowled. “You might be beautiful and feminine on the outside, but you’re becoming ugly and domineering on the inside.” The woman turned and stormed out, failing to notice Mae Bitters scurry away from the door where she had been listening. Sunny struggled against an urge to scream and weep. She knew Eve’s words were meant to deliberately undermine her self-confidence and create self-doubt, and she would not let that happen. If she folded now and wept as she wanted to, Eve would win.