“I hate just sitting here, Kiernan. Are you sure we shouldn’t be out there looking for him? What if something happens to him?”
“He’s a grown man, Jordana. Would you go interferin’ in his needs? A man can’t always be sharin’ his heart with his womenfolk. Sometimes it’s just too much to bear and better given over to God than put off on the people he loves.”
Jordana looked at him oddly for a moment, then lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Men! You are all a strange breed.”
Kiernan laughed, lightening the mood. “And ya think women are any different? Yar the most curious, confusin’ creatures to walk the face of the earth. Why, look at yarself. Yar of an age to be settlin’ down and raisin’ a family, but that’s not enough for yarself. Ya have money and a family who loves ya, yet the restlessness in yar heart threatens to strip ya of all happiness. Still, there are those times when ya dress in yar finest and go to church or the opera house or one of the society balls and ya look for all intents and purposes to be a lady of such regal upbringin’ that I would believe ya to be royalty if I didn’t know ya better.”
Jordana smiled. “I guess I’m just multifaceted.”
“Well said,” Victoria interjected. “Honestly, Kiernan, she’s no different than I was when you met me. I had a spirit for adventure as well. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t wanted to taste that adventure. We Baldwins have a determined character. I believe our mother and father raised us to be that way.”
“Then be countin’ Brenton to be raised the same way and be givin’ him the chance he needs to set hisself to rights.”
The women glanced at each other with a rather chagrined expression. “He’s right, you know,” Victoria told her sister. “We never really do give Brenton much credit for knowing how to take care of himself.”
Jordana nodded. “He’s just so kindhearted and easygoing that I always worry someone will take advantage of him and hurt him.”
“He’s a good man,” Kiernan told her earnestly. “He’ll not be puttin’ hisself in danger and riskin’ what’s left to him. He’ll be gettin’ over this, but I’m thinkin’ it’s gonna take time and patience on our part.”
For the first time since Caitlan brought the news, Kiernan sensed a bit of peace returning to the house. The two sisters seemed to notably relax, and the tension gradually eased from their faces as they appeared to accept his suggestions.
As the clock chimed the hour of ten, Jordana gave him a weak smile and sighed. “I guess I’ll go on up to bed. You’ll let me know if you hear anything?”
“Of course I will,” Kiernan replied. “Ya’ll soon see for yarself. Brenton will be fine.”
——
Brenton eased the front door of his house open and stepped inside. A misty rain had begun to fall, leaving him wet and chilled. This only added to his otherwise defeated emotions.
“Ya’ll catch yar death,” Caitlan whispered from the front parlor door. She stood in her nightgown, a light blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her long auburn hair hanging down to her waist.
“It’s all gone,” he managed to say.
Caitlan nodded. “I know.”
“All those years of work. All the equipment. Gone.” He shook his head and pulled the gold wire-rimmed glasses from his face. Rubbing his sore eyes, he didn’t know that Caitlan had crossed the space between them until she took hold of his hand.
“I’ve got hot water on the stove. I think ya should have a hot bath and get right into bed. Ya won’t want to be catchin’ a chill. We can talk about all of this in the mornin’ if ya’d like.”
He looked at her and saw the sympathy in her expression. Nodding, he let her help him shrug out of the damp coat. The wetness did nothing to hide the obvious odor of smoke. Painfully, it only served to bring the vision of his dreams going up in flames once again to his mind. Discouragement and sorrow permeated his soul, and with deep shame he felt tears come to his eyes. It was not the first time he’d succumbed to tears that night, and he hated that now he should break down in front of Caitlan.
But before he could respond or otherwise hide his emotions, Caitlan reached up and touched a tear as it slid down his cheek. Her own eyes filled with tears, but she held his gaze and continued to stroke his cheek.
“I’m so glad yar home safe,” she whispered. “Yar all I desire in the world, and if I lost ya now, I’m not entirely sure I could go on.”
Brenton pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “I’m sorry if I worried you,” he whispered against her ear. He felt his strength return. She gave him hope and filled him with new purpose. It wouldn’t change the past nor take back the fire, but it would help with facing the future.
“I love ya, husband,” she said, her accent thick with emotion.
Brenton stroked her hair and breathed deeply of Caitlan’s sweetness. She’d bathed in rosewater and he loved the way the aroma lingered in her hair. It was such a vast contrast to the bitter, stinging smoke he’d inhaled at the scene of the fire.
“I do love you, Caitlan,” he finally whispered. He could only pray that their love would be strong enough to sustain him when he had to return and face what was left of his shop.
4
Weeks passed, leaving Jordana deeply worried about Brenton and Caitlan. They had kept almost entirely to themselves, refusing to come to Sunday dinner or to sit together with the rest of the family for Sunday morning services. And when Jordana visited them they welcomed her with great reserve. It so infuriated Jordana that she’d finally voiced her opinion of Brenton’s withdrawal.
Caitlan had assured Jordana that time would help to set things right, but Jordana couldn’t help being concerned. All of her life she had felt partially responsible for seeing to her brother’s well-being. It hardly mattered that she was younger and that he was now a man. When their parents had left them in school in New York to venture to Russia some years ago, Jordana had felt herself just as responsible to see to Brenton as he had been to her.
Now Jordana felt misplaced and helpless. Brenton didn’t need her. He was clinging, and rightfully so, to Caitlan. To say that he appeared to be discouraged would be like suggesting that the Pacific was nothing more than a watering hole. Brenton rarely spoke about what had happened and whenever pressed to discuss details he had later learned about the fire, or what he would do to replace his equipment, Brenton would only shrug.
Jordana tried not to be jealous of her sister-in-law. Caitlan came as a pillar of strength to bolster and encourage her husband, and for this Jordana was grateful. But at the same time, the incident only served to leave Jordana feeling even more out of sorts than she had to begin with. Three years of living in Sacramento—three years of tagging along with one married sibling or the other—had taken a toll on her. Now in the midst of adversity, she wasn’t really needed. In fact, when she came to visit and speak to Caitlan and Brenton, she felt like an intruder.
With June in full bloom, the family finally had a glimmer of hope. Sunday morning found Brenton and Caitlan in what had become the family pew at church. They were hardly the animated, lively couple they had once been, but both nodded and smiled, and afterward they promised to be at Victoria’s for the traditional Sunday dinner.
Jordana hugged her brother as they stood outside in the churchyard. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. They pulled away and he gave her a thoughtful nod.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I needed to do this my way.”
Jordana knew he was right, but the words seemed to sever yet another strand that tied her to Brenton. He didn’t need her. Not in the way he once had. It truly was time to move on.
Helping Victoria set the china for their Sunday dinner, Jordana wondered what the day would bring. Having Brenton and Caitlan back in their lives would bring them a certain amount of joy, but there would no doubt still be times of testing.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Victoria said, arranging flowers for the table.
“I guess I’m a bit worried about how things
will go today.”
“I’m sure Brenton will be more like himself.” Victoria placed the vase of flowers between two candelabra. Her countenance boasted a radiance that suggested her absolute contentment.
“I hope so.” As Jordana set an extra plate where Charlie Crocker would sit she commented, “I’m glad you invited Charlie. He always seems to liven things up.”
“Well, with Mrs. Crocker off visiting friends in San Francisco, it only seemed right. Kiernan does so enjoy his company.”
“You’d think he’d want to get away from his boss whenever time permitted,” Jordana said with a smile.
“Kiernan sees Charlie as a sort of mentor. They even came back together from the front of the line this week. They rode in Charlie’s private office car. It’s quite nice—almost as if you were riding in a man’s private study. Nothing as elaborate as the private cars we rode in back east when Mama and Papa took us on trips, but very nice nevertheless.”
“I hope Charlie can somehow help Brenton,” Jordana murmured absentmindedly. She glanced at the door as if sensing her brother’s nearness. “I think I hear them.”
She went to open the door and found Caitlan and Brenton coming up the walk. “They’re here!” she announced to Victoria.
“Good. Kiernan and Charlie ought to be here any minute and then we can sit down to dinner.”
“Hello, Brenton—Caitlan.” Jordana caught her brother’s glance and felt a flicker of hope. He actually smiled.
“Good afternoon to you, Jordana,” he called and took hold of Caitlan’s arm. Together they climbed the broad-based steps and joined Jordana at the door. “Something sure smells good.”
“Victoria has prepared enough food for an army. That new cook she has working for her doesn’t quite know how to master our sister’s recipes, so Victoria spent half the afternoon showing her exactly what to do.”
“Nothing is quite so pleasant as Sunday dinner with the relatives,” Brenton said with a grin.
“What has you in such a good mood?” Jordana asked, fearful she’d cause him to slip back into his moodiness with the comment, but curious nonetheless.
“My dear wife has told me what a bear I’ve been,” Brenton said rather formally.
“Well, I told you that days ago,” Jordana replied. “I believe I called you that and a few other choice names.” Her smile broadened when she saw that he had taken her teasing in a good-natured fashion.
“Indeed you did, and they were well deserved.”
“Ho there, Baldwin!” Charlie Crocker called out as he climbed down from the O’Connor carriage. Kiernan drove the conveyance around to the carriage house even as Charlie made his way up the walk. “I had hoped to talk to you today. The Central Pacific is on the move and we need your help.”
Jordana saw Brenton’s expression change in an instant. She worried that somehow Charlie would single-handedly send her brother back into his bleak depression.
“What is it you need from me?” Brenton asked, brow knit.
Jordana could sense the struggle in his tone.
“Well, that’s one of the reasons I’m here.” Charlie’s heavy frame caused the steps to groan slightly as he mounted to the porch. “Suppose we go inside and discuss the matter with a drink.”
Jordana shared a quick, worried look with Caitlan, then stepped aside to let Charlie and Brenton come into the house. It seemed only natural to follow Charlie Crocker’s imposing figure. He emanated a huge amount of energy, like a charging bull, Jordana thought. He was boisterous, tough, at times even crude, but Jordana believed that his heart was at least as big as his two-hundred-sixty-five-pound girth, as evidenced by his many kindnesses toward Kiernan and Victoria. And now toward Brenton? Jordana hoped that was his intention. For now she also remembered Charlie could be rather tactless, speaking what he thought but at times not thinking at all about what he said.
“I hope Charlie knows what he’s doing,” Jordana whispered to Caitlan. “I was just starting to see some hope of Brenton returning to his old self.”
“Don’t I know it!” Caitlan’s own tension was clear. “I ain’t never seen a man spend half so much time in prayer as me husband has lately. Unless of course it was a man of the cloth.”
“You don’t suppose Brenton is about to change professions, do you?” Jordana let a half-joking, half-serious grin bend her lips.
“I’d be acceptin’ that just fine,” Caitlan replied, “if it meant he’d stop being so sad.”
Jordana nodded. “We both would.”
They followed the men to the parlor where Victoria was already serving large glasses of iced tea, which was all the rage these days in the homes of Sacramento during the summer. Jordana had to admit to liking it herself. She took up a glass just as Charlie launched into a story about troubles in the mountains.
“We built several miles of snow sheds last year.” Charlie paused and had a lusty gulp of tea, seeming to enjoy it almost as much as the whiskey he preferred. “These were stretches of framework covering the tracks and offering protection from the snow. This way, no crew needed to waste time out on the line clearing tracks from ten- or twenty-foot drifts, and the trains were protected from falling debris.”
Kiernan came in about this time and Victoria handed him a glass. “I see yar already tellin’ them yar plan,” he said. “And on a Sunday!”
“That I am,” Charlie admitted. “I think the good Lord would honor my enthusiasm for the plan. I told Mr. Baldwin I’d need his help, but I haven’t told him why.”
“That’s true, and let’s just say, we’re all quite curious, so please continue,” Jordana interjected.
Charlie laughed and nodded. “Well, a good portion of the sheds were lost to us in avalanches. We couldn’t keep the land above the shed cleared, and instead of passing over the track and shed as we had hoped, the snow collected on the slopes above and then destroyed everything in its wake as it plunged down the side of the mountain.”
“So what will you do now?” Brenton asked.
“Well, we’re already doing it, and that’s where you come in. I know you’ve lost your photographic equipment, but I need you to come ahead as we planned and take pictures anyway. I have some equipment you can use until you reorder and receive things from back east. It’s not the good stuff like you had, but I obtained it from a man desperate to head into the gold mines and make his fortune.”
“I suppose I could look it over,” Brenton said.
Jordana found herself exhaling rather loudly. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. She felt a surge of hope as Brenton continued.
“I know you spoke of the importance of the sheds and that you wanted me to help you with a historical record of the line, but what do you have in mind now?”
“Much the same,” Charlie replied. “We’re going to need to make changes as we repair the snow sheds. We figure to put a line of retaining walls up the mountainside. This will block the snows and prevent slides.”
“It’s bound to snow as much as before.” Jordana tried to picture Charlie’s plan in her mind. “Won’t the snow just avalanche again and destroy the walls as it did the sheds?”
“We don’t see it that way. First off, we plan to build them so that when the snow builds to a certain point, it can just go over the top and down—much like a dam holding back water. Then we’re going to rebuild the sheds to have an angled roof to match the mountain’s slope.”
“So that if the snow goes over the wall, it will proceed down the mountain and over the sheds as though there were no structures in the way at all,” Jordana murmured.
“Exactly so,” Charlie agreed. “I want Brenton to come and keep a photographic journal for us, and we’ll see to it that his new equipment catches up to him wherever he is along the line.” At this, all eyes turned to Brenton.
“My wife tells me I’ve been idle too long,” Brenton said aloud. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try. But as for new equipment, well, I’ve not ordered any.”
; “What?” Jordana exclaimed before anyone else could speak. “Why not?”
Brenton looked first at Caitlan and then Jordana. “Because I wasn’t sure I would go back into photography.”
“Not go back? But that’s been your dream—your life,” Jordana said in disbelief. “How could you not go back?”
Brenton smiled wanly. “I don’t know, but it has been a consideration.”
“Well, consider it later,” Charlie declared. “I need you with me on the line. I want to hire you on to help us document the rest of the route. At the slow rate the Union Pacific has set, we’ll build all the way to the eastern Utah territories before they come anywhere near to meeting our track front. I want pictures of it all, and so do Hopkins, Huntington, Stanford, and my brother the judge.”
Charlie had just named the most important people on the Central Pacific’s board. If they wanted this, Jordana had little doubt it would be done. Now it was just a matter of getting Brenton to agree to help.
“I suppose I could give it a try,” Brenton finally said. “Caitlan can come along and help me. You too, Jordana. If you want to,” he said, seeming to extend the offer as a gift of peace. “You could surely find plenty to write about for those New York papers.”
Jordana smiled broadly. “When do we leave?”
Charlie laughed heartily. “If I weren’t married, Miss Baldwin, I think I’d be seeking you out to court. You’re a woman after my own heart. See a thing and get it done—that’s my motto.”
Jordana nodded enthusiastically. “Mine too.”
“Well, if that’s all settled,” Victoria said, beaming her guests a smile, “I would like to suggest a toast.” She lifted her glass high. “Here’s to the future of the Central Pacific—may you double the line this summer and add hundreds of miles in addition to the original plan.”
Judith Pella, Tracie Peterson - [Ribbons West 03] Page 3