Caitlan composed herself and nodded. “That’s right. I promise I’ll not laugh at all when I present ya with our son.”
Brenton reached up and touched her cheek. “Oh, my darling wife, you may laugh all you like, for I know my heart shall be singing with laughter and joy just to have you safely delivered of our child.”
Jordana felt awkwardly out of place. The tenderness that passed between her brother and sister-in-law was private and intimate. She felt like an intruder. Turning away, she thought of Rich and their kiss and how she had in those few moments foreseen an entire future with this man. She could only imagine in her mind what it would be like to be happily married to Rich and feel his child growing within her.
“I suppose me sister told ya it’s a boy,” Kiernan announced, stepping from the bedroom. He was still looking a bit pale faced behind his black eye patch.
Jordana nodded. “She did and then some.”
Kiernan frowned. “Oh, so ya told them about me fallin’ away dead to the world. Well, thank ya very much!” But his lips, twitching with mirth, proved he could not be upset by anything, even his own embarrassment.
“Oh, go on with ya,” Caitlan said, smiling. “I thought it rather sweet. So how is that fine strappin’ boy of yars? Did ya give him a name?”
Kiernan nodded and proudly hitched back his shoulders. “Aye, we did. James Kiernan O’Connor.”
Moisture sprang to Jordana’s eyes. “Our father will be very proud.”
“Indeed. We should go wire them immediately,” Brenton declared. “Would you like to come along with me to the telegraph office, Mrs. Baldwin?”
“Aye, I’d like that very much,” Caitlan replied. “Watching a new life come into the world puts yar head a bit in the clouds. I might as well be outdoors.”
Jordana watched them go, then turned to Kiernan. “Congratulations! I can’t imagine any parents more deserving.”
Kiernan smiled. “No one deserves a baby more than yar sister. She has patiently endured this life with me, and now at last, she has a worthy reward.”
Just then the doctor arrived, apparently having been let in by Brenton and Caitlan as they left. As Jordana and Kiernan waited in the hall, he gave the new mother and child a careful appraisal. “She looks to be in perfect health,” he announced to them several minutes later. “Your son, too. I’ll be back to check on the both of them tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait another minute!” Jordana told Kiernan. “I have to see them.” Knocking lightly on her sister’s bedroom door, Jordana peeked her head inside. “May I come in?”
Victoria looked radiant as she sat propped up in her bed, baby James tucked snug in the crook of her arm. “Oh, please do.”
Jordana came to the bed and, at Victoria’s insistence, sat on the edge beside her sister. “How proud you must be,” she said, leaning close to kiss Victoria’s forehead. “May I hold him?”
Victoria nodded and handed the wrapped bundle to Jordana. “He has my coloring, but I think he looks like Kiernan.”
Jordana pushed back the blanket to reveal a dark matting of hair. The baby yawned and opened his eyes for only a moment before closing them again. He dozed back to sleep as if completely unconcerned with Jordana’s presence.
Jordana marveled over his little button nose and tiny lips. “Oh my, but he’s sweet,” she said, an aching ever growing in her heart. How perfect he felt in her arms. What a joyous feeling. What a wonder.
Quickly she handed him back to Victoria. Tears coursed down her cheeks. “I cannot be happier for you. You, who above all other women, deserve a baby to love. I thank God for this miracle.”
She left before Victoria could say a word and passed Kiernan as he returned in a boisterous spirit from seeing the doctor off. “What a fine day it is for the O’Connor house!” he declared.
Jordana nodded, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “That it is!” But she could not shake her gnawing sense of being torn between two worlds.
She wanted to be a part of the things she saw here in this household. She wanted them more than she could say. For years the settled existence of home, hearth, and family had been completely unimportant, but now, as she neared her twenty-third birthday, Jordana had given birth to a change of heart. And at the center of that change was the one man whom she could not have. The only man she would ever love. Richard O’Brian.
28
Rich found Ogden to be a muddy, frozen mess when he rode into town on the first train to travel into the city. March eighth would go down in the town’s history with nearly all fifteen hundred of its inhabitants turning out to be a part of the celebration. The trip was actually rather impromptu and very understated for this celebratory accomplishment. But while it might have been understated by the officials of the UP, the citizens of Ogden quickly organized. Captain Pugh’s band rapidly assembled and began to blast out marches and hymns to accompany the continued laying of additional track. For, in spite of their accomplishments in reaching Ogden, the work had to go on. The Union Pacific could not yet rest.
Captain Pugh was followed up by Captain Wadsworth’s artillery. They fired salutes of honor amidst the cheering of the growing crowds. By the time the clock struck five that afternoon, a complete civic ceremony had somehow been orchestrated, and those of importance to either Ogden or the Union Pacific were assembled for official speeches.
Rich found their enthusiasm a precursor for the days to come. Whenever Congress finally decided on where the Central Pacific and Union Pacific would be joined together, a party of grand proportions could then be planned. No doubt someone was already detailing the way it would be and was just waiting to hear where it would be. Rich marveled that the railroad was so close to completion and this momentous decision had yet to be made.
Leaving the well-wishers and speechmakers, Rich made his way to the hotel. He wasn’t more than ten feet from the door, however, when he tripped over someone’s forgotten baggage and stumbled headlong into another man, causing a satchel of papers to scatter everywhere.
“I do apologize, sir,” he said, righting himself quickly. He glanced up to assure himself no harm had been done to the other gentleman and found himself face-to-face with Baxter Montego.
“Mr. O’Brian!” Montego declared with obvious surprise.
“Mr. Montego,” Rich said, then glancing around, he lowered his voice. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I fear you are in grave danger.”
Rich had already decided the course of his game should he ever actually find himself with Montego. And now the situation had presented itself to him, and although he was shocked to find the man here, Rich quickly recovered.
Montego rapidly covered his own surprise, then bent down to pick up the papers and things he had dropped upon encountering Rich. Rich, too, bent down to assist, much to Montego’s immediate agitation.
“There’s no need for you to worry yourself with this.” Montego attempted to brush aside Rich’s eager hands. “I do want to hear more about the danger you believe me to be in, however.”
“Nonsense,” Rich said, picking up a leather-bound book. The initials “J.B.” were clearly evident on the cover. Handing it to Montego as though he had no clue what the book might contain, Rich had to force himself to remain calm. The book proved that Montego had had something to do with Jordana’s capture by the Indians. After all, it had been the Indians who had taken the book away from her. Montego would have had to have been among the Indians in order to put his hands on it.
“Thank you,” Montego said rather harshly as he snatched the book from Rich. “I can manage.”
Rich decided not to push the man. He waited as Montego gathered up his other papers. They appeared to be a variety of things—some were clearly correspondences, while others might have been lists of figures and other detailed information. If only he could get a closer look.
“We have to talk,” Rich said, again glancing around at the people on the street. “I believe you have a traitor working among yo
ur people.”
Montego eyed him curiously. “Why would you say that?”
“Well, I sent a message just as you suggested back in Laramie. A man came and met me at the appointed time. We talked at the depot and arranged what I thought would be a good case of sabotage against the Central Pacific. But the next thing I knew, someone from the Union Pacific had picked me up as a spy and traitor to the UP.”
“Do tell,” Montego said, acting surprised. “However did you manage to escape?”
Rich played the moment for all he was worth. He ran his thumb and finger along the edges of his mustache as if to smooth it down. “I’m good friends with General Dodge. We go way back. I told him I was obviously being set up and he believed me. I was never really worried for myself, but I was terribly concerned for you and Isabella. She is all right, isn’t she?” Rich thought he masterfully feigned deep concern.
“She’s fine. She’s here in the hotel. I know she’ll be glad to see you,” Montego replied. “I still don’t understand why you feel I am in any danger.”
“Well, I discussed business with the man you put me in touch with. He only knew about me because of my involvement with you. I’m afraid he might well betray you as he did me. He is probably a man of little means—or integrity for that matter.”
“So what do you propose to do now?”
Rich glanced around. “Is there someplace we could talk more privately?”
“Well, not right now. My daughter and I are to attend a special dinner to celebrate the UP reaching Ogden. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. After all, she’s been upstairs primping and fussing over her costume now for nearly an hour.”
“What time is your dinner?”
“Six o’clock. We could arrange to meet here in the hotel afterward,” Montego said, finally replacing his papers and Jordana’s journal back into his leather satchel, snapping it securely shut.
“That would be good,” Rich agreed. “I plan to have a room here myself. I could meet you in the lobby, say around eight o’clock?”
“I would imagine the celebration will continue until nine or ten.”
Rich nodded. “Ten, it is.”
——
Rich waited until he was certain Isabella and her father had left their hotel room before going downstairs to inquire as to their room number. If he could only get a look inside Montego’s room, maybe he would find that Montego had left the precious satchel behind and Rich would be able to sort through the papers.
“I’m to meet Baxter Montego at his room, but I don’t remember the number. I believe it’s on the second floor,” Rich told the desk clerk.
The man nodded. “The Montegos are in rooms 203 and 204. I’m uncertain as to which room Mr. Montego has taken.”
“That’s all right,” Rich stated with a smile. “I’m friends with both Montegos. I’m sure it won’t matter all that much if I knock on the wrong door.”
Finding his way to the rooms, Rich eyed their locations for a moment before deciding that Montego was most likely in 203. The situation of the room was better, but, from gauging the positions of the doors, it appeared 204 was the larger of the two rooms. Isabella Montego would not only require more room for her luggage and finery, but, unconcerned with her father’s comfort, would no doubt insist on the larger of the rooms.
With a cautious glance down the hall, Rich pulled out a ring containing several skeleton keys, which he had obtained from the cleaning lady for the mere cost of two gold dollars. As he slipped a key into the lock, he prayed his money had been well spent. It seemed strange to pray that God aid him in breaking into another man’s room, but Rich figured this was a matter of heart. God knew his heart wasn’t set on wrong but rather was seeking to do right. Rich felt that the crusade he’d found himself caught up in was a fight between good and evil. To Rich it was quite clear. There were evil men attempting evil deeds, and there were good men attempting good deeds. Of course, between these, there were plain folks who cared very little either one way or the other, but simply wanted to be left alone to live their lives and make their way. He didn’t know what to think of them. In a way he envied them and longed for a more mediocre life. But for the most part, he felt sorry for them. They seemed to lack any real interest or vigor for life. Unlike a certain young woman whose kiss he still could not put from his mind.
Jordana Baldwin’s presence haunted him like nothing he had ever known. Even Peggy’s death and the love he’d lost with her were being quickly swallowed up in the wake of that one kiss, that one woman so vibrant and full of verve. He had been the worst sort of fool to let her leave him. Who could say when they’d meet again? And even if they managed to meet, how could he possibly get her to change her mind about marriage?
The third key worked and the door quietly opened. Replacing the keys in his pocket, Rich brushed the handle of his revolver. Something inside him had caused Rich to strap it on. Under normal circumstances he would never have given the weapon a second thought, but tonight he had an ominous feeling about what he would find.
He quickly glanced around the room before closing the door. There was a lamp beside the door and a box of lighters next to this. Rich took up one of the pieces and stepped back into the hall to light the wood from one of the hall lamps.
With the room properly illuminated, Rich could easily see that this was Montego’s room. He closed the door and wondered what to do first. He would have to work quickly in order to put out the light before anyone could notice from the street that someone was messing about inside.
Moving around the room, Rich looked at the clothes Montego had laid out on the bed, then went through the bags that sat nearby. Finding nothing, he was about to admit defeat when he spied something sticking out from beneath the bed. Lifting the quilt covering, he found the satchel.
Silently thanking God, Rich shuffled quickly through the papers, stunned by the things he read. There were not only correspondences here that clearly linked Montego to various disasters along the Union Pacific tracks, but there was also some strange plan Montego was putting together to kidnap Thomas Durant. Shaking his head, Rich put off finishing the reading of that particular missive to find Jordana’s journal. Pulling it out of the satchel, he smiled. The book was simple, nondescript, except for the initials emblazoned on the cover. Though he told himself he needed to read the pages so as to be informed about the kind of information they might have revealed to Montego, he nevertheless felt like an interloper. Still, he scanned through the pages, both mesmerized and amazed at the detailed accounts that had been kept. Jordana had even drawn little pictures, sketches that were really quite good. He knew exactly what she was trying to portray by each one. Here was a clear depiction of a trestle bridge, then several pages of script followed by a rough drawing of snow sheds in the mountains of the Central Pacific. He could easily ascertain this, not because the UP had no use for snow sheds, but because the CPRR initials had been included on the side of the locomotive engine Jordana had included. Her artistic talent was really quite something.
Continuing to flip through the book, Rich found a sketch of what could only be Brenton and Caitlan at work with their photography. Why, Jordana even had a flair for sketching people. They stood beneath a large shade tree, camera between them and a bevy of equipment at their feet. But Rich’s eye was quickly drawn away from the scene upon which Jordana had intended the focus to be and instead rested on the trunk of the tree where a tiny heart had been sketched as if carved into the bark and the initials “R.O.” had been set inside. R.O.?
“Why, that’s me,” Rich said, the realization suddenly dawning on him. “That little ninny. She does have feelings for me. It isn’t one-sided. And from the looks of this, she’s been having them for some time.” He snapped the book shut and grinned broadly. “Well, I’ll be. Just wait until I get ahold of her.”
He fell silent at the sound of voices in the hallway. Without thought, he quickly pulled his gun and dropped the journal. Moving toward the door, he reached it
just as it opened.
“I promise I’ll only be a moment. I just need to get—”
Baxter Montego fell silent as he entered the room with a genuine look of amazement, first at the well-lit room, then at the man with the drawn pistol. Rich stepped forward in time to see Isabella, apparently alerted to a problem, flee down the hall. Montego looked around as if he were going to do the same, but Rich shook his head.
“Don’t even think about it,” Rich said, pointing the gun at the man’s chest. “I’d just as soon blow a hole in you for what you’ve caused me and my friends as to look at you.”
Montego gave a strained smile. “Are you certain we can’t come to some mutual understanding?”
“I have a great mutual understanding about you already,” Rich replied. “You’re going to jail. I understand that much, and so do you. That makes it mutual.”
——
After gathering up the evidence and seeing to Montego’s incarceration, Rich wired General Dodge to let him know what had happened. He explained in brief about the plans to kidnap Durant and figured they should count themselves lucky that much of what Montego had planned would now be thwarted. His only real concern was that Isabella Montego had managed to escape.
And because she had escaped, Rich felt compelled, for reasons that went beyond his immediate understanding, to wire Jordana in Sacramento. Isabella was a threat, but to what degree, Rich couldn’t say. He felt that he should warn Jordana, even though he knew Isabella would be foolish to remain anywhere near either railroad. She would have to presume that Rich would put the word out about her activities.
Wiring Jordana also served another purpose. It allowed Rich some much desired contact. Perhaps he could even pin her down as to when she might once again be coming his way. Or maybe he could suggest that he would be free to come to California once the railroad was actually completed. One way or another, he was going to find that little woman and teach her about toying with people’s emotions and feelings. And the lessons he had in mind were quite grand. He’d start with another kiss and then . . . well, who knew?
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