Judith Pella, Tracie Peterson - [Ribbons West 03]

by Ties That Bind

  “Do you have that kind of power—that kind of money?” Rich asked.

  “No, but the president of this company does and so do other board members. Send this wire to Boston,” Dodge told the messenger. He began writing furiously on a piece of paper and thrust it into the man’s hands. “Do it quickly.”

  ——

  Word rapidly spread that the celebration at Promontory was to be delayed until May the tenth. Leland Stanford, one of many officials representing the Central Pacific at Promontory, quickly wired Charlie to hold off on the Sacramento celebration. Word came back, however, that Charlie could hardly stave off the festivities when they were due to occur that very day. The citizens of Sacramento and San Francisco had amassed for a party, and Charlie would not refuse them. Stanford understood but realized it would hardly be official until the last spike was actually driven into the line.

  The conclusion of Durant’s kidnapping was rather anticlimactic, and considering that someone might actually have been hurt, Rich and Jordana were glad for this result. As soon as they heard that UP President Ames had supplied the money to free Durant, and that the man was actually on his way to Promontory once again, Jordana and Rich made their way back to just west of the Promontory celebration point. Here, Charlie’s private car had been moved up and positioned nearby to allow Jordana’s family to enjoy the festivities in luxury. Of course, Leland Stanford had his own private car behind theirs, along with a couple of other luxury cars. It was like a rolling hotel positioned on the side track of what was to become the country’s most famous railroad. Nearby and running for some distance down the UP side of the track, fourteen saloon tents had been erected to sell all manner of libations and ease the boredom of waiting for the Durant party to finally show up. Otherwise, in spite of the growing crowd, the land was harsh and desolate. In the distance, patches of snow hung on the Promontory Mountains and lent a rather scenic backdrop to the barren land, but beyond this to commend it, it seemed a poor location for such a festive occasion.

  Jordana and Rich took the opportunity afforded by the delay to enjoy quiet moments of conversation with Carolina and James. Brenton and Caitlan had dismissed themselves from breakfast to move from camp to camp taking photographs of important members of the celebration. And seeing that Rich and Jordana could use the time alone with Carolina and James, Kiernan and Victoria took Nicholas and Amelia and baby James and went off to visit old friends along the line.

  “We’ve decided to let you throw us a wedding,” Jordana told her mother after everyone else had gone. She glanced nervously at Rich, who simply squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We can stay through the summer, but no longer than that. We have other plans for exploring, and we’ll need to be on our way before the winter weather sets in.”

  Carolina smiled and looked at James with such obvious joy that Jordana was glad for the decision she’d made. “We will have a fine time of it,” she told her daughter. “June will make the perfect time for a wedding.”

  “June?” Jordana looked at Rich. “I don’t think we want to wait that long.”

  “But it’s already the ninth of May. By the time we return home and get the plans together—”

  “Your mother’s probably right,” Rich stated, glancing at Jordana with sympathy but also with a resigned shrug. “June is just a few weeks away.”

  “We could have the wedding the day after Amelia’s coming out,” Carolina suggested. “That way, those who have traveled to attend will still be on hand to celebrate with you as well.”

  Jordana sighed. It seemed a small concession. “June the fifth?”

  “That sounds like a good date,” James said, winking at his daughter. “It’s a Saturday and that will allow for an all-day celebration. You’ll see. The time will fairly fly. Especially with your mother involved. Why, she’ll have you all over town getting a gown made and arranging for flowers and such.”

  “Your father is right, Jordana. The time will fly and then we’ll have the rest of our lives together.”

  Jordana knew without a doubt that he spoke the truth. He would keep this promise to her if nothing else. He knew her heart in the matter and knew how desperately important it was for her to feel secure in their plans. God had known exactly the right person to send into her life. Not a G. W. Vanderbilt, who would expect her to keep a proper house and raise children in a proper society, and not a Damon Chittenden, who would parade her about as though she had been a prize to be won. No, Rich would lead the way through the wilderness, then step aside and let her have a go at it. But mostly he would walk at her side, needing and wanting for her to be his partner in everything.

  “June fifth sounds just right,” she finally said, bestowing a smile upon her parents. “And I know it will be perfect, because you will all be there.”

  ——

  But Monday, May 10, was the first celebration to concern themselves with. The closing of the line at Promontory Point was clearly heralded as the event of the decade. Gone were the images of a wartorn country, which only a brief five years earlier had seen some of its bloodiest and fiercest battles. Gone were the concerns and prejudices, at least for the moment, as to whether Irish or black, Chinese or red man, had contributed more to see this project put through. Now all that mattered was that the country was united.

  The morning dawned bright and chilly. There was even a thin layer of ice on the puddles near the track, and almost everyone went about in their coats and wraps. An American flag was quickly hoisted up the top of the nearest telegraph pole, and the day’s celebration was put into motion. Workmen quickly assembled to put the finishing touches on the line.

  The last two rails lay ready beside the grading. All of the ties were in place with the exception of one space, which had been left for the eight-foot length of polished laurel wood that would be used for the ceremony. The anxiety and excitement of the crowd built as everyone collected together to watch history being made.

  Jordana stood nearby with Rich and her parents. Amelia and Nicholas chatted amiably about their adventures in the western wilderness, but Jordana barely heard any of the conversation. She felt as though this railroad was as much a part of her life as it was for any other person in attendance. She had been connected to it since the early years, sitting in privileged conversations among men of power, riding with the survey teams, and interviewing the workers. She’d accompanied her brother to photograph the various accomplishments along the line, and she’d attended the funerals of men who had given their lives to bridge the country together.

  UP locomotive No. 119, a brand-new coal-burning engine with a long, slender smokestack, approached very closely, pulling the two passenger cars that housed the UP officials.

  Rich glanced at his pocket watch. “Ten o’clock,” he said as though Jordana had asked him.

  Jordana watched as the engine slowed to a stop, and Durant, the source of all their latest delays, emerged in velvet coat and gaily-colored necktie. General Dodge followed him, looking much as he always did, sophisticated and gentlemanly. Other men emerged, some whom Jordana recognized, others who were strangers. They all looked rather like a wedding party awaiting the bride.

  Then to everyone’s amazement an argument broke out. It seemed no one had planned out how the ceremony should go. Jordana and Rich left their family and moved to where Dodge and Stanford stood amidst a bevy of arguing officials.

  Mindless of her gender, Jordana demanded Stanford tell her what was happening. “Everyone is waiting and watching for something to be done,” she said. “What is the delay?”

  “Dodge believes Durant should be allowed to drive the final spike because the Union Pacific is a longer line,” Stanford answered.

  Rich looked at Dodge and then Jordana. “That makes sense. After all, the Central Pacific started laying track first. They might as well let the UP end it.”

  “It makes no sense at all,” Jordana declared, standing up for Stanford’s position. “They started first, and thus, logically, they should end
it. And the only reason the UP has more track is because they refused to let the CP build at will.”

  “Well, you can have your ceremony without us!” one UP official huffed, glaring at Jordana contemptuously.

  “Maybe we should,” Jordana countered.

  The audience continued to grow, and Jordana felt a growing frustration that she and Rich should be separated on the issue. It seemed a silly thing to argue, yet it was an important moment in the history of both railroads.

  As they spoke, another UP train arrived, bringing with it three companies of the Twenty-First U.S. Infantry and a few men from the Thirty-Second Regiment who had been camping near Devil’s Gate the night before. They had a band with them, as well as some of the officers’ wives, and this seemed to liven up the occasion considerably. Jordana could only hope it would take the attention off the immediate crisis and let clear heads prevail.

  Dodge was in deep discussion with Rich, who pointed toward the track and then to the ceremonial gold spikes and silver hammers.

  Crossing her arms, she leaned over to Stanford and whispered, “I should have worn breeches for the occasion and then they would have listened to me as well.”

  He laughed out loud and put an arm around her shoulder. “My dear, when you speak, people listen despite your attire. You really should consider a future in business or politics.”

  Now it was Jordana’s turn to laugh. “No, thank you,” she said, shaking her head. “There are too many rules and regulations to abide by.”

  Just then Rich and Dodge came back with the other UP men. Rich pulled Jordana aside, while Dodge took Stanford in hand. The two men put their heads together as Rich leaned down to whisper in Jordana’s ear.

  “I don’t know how we managed to put ourselves at odds again, but I think I’ve hit upon a solution.”

  “Oh, really?” She wasn’t at all sure that his solution would meet her idea of a fair arrangement.

  “There are two golden spikes and two hammers. There are two sides of the tie and holes have been drilled in each. Why not have them both drive the final spikes together?”

  Jordana saw Leland Stanford shake Dodge’s hand and nod enthusiastically. She grinned at her husband-to-be. “Ever the diplomat, my dear!”

  He smiled. “I just did it to impress you.”

  She looped her arm through his. “Well, you already managed to do that some time ago.”

  With the issue settled, the ceremony proceeded. The Union Pacific’s best Irish track layers moved the west rail into place and spiked it down, with exception to the last tie. Next it was the Central Pacific’s turn. Using a gang of Chinese, clad in blue jackets and full-legged pants, the east rail was brought to the line.

  “Now’s the time! Take a shot!” someone yelled. The words were the signal for Brenton to take a picture, but the Chinese apparently knew only one meaning for the word “shot” and dropped the rail immediately. Fleeing into the crowd to escape danger, the men were stopped by the nearly hysterical crowd and brought back with the reassurance that they were in no danger. Finally the rail was in place.

  By noon, the entire country was standing by via telegraph. Western Union had arranged to wire directly from Promontory to let those in the East know when the deed was done. And to everyone’s amazement, they had even wired the tie and hammer so that when Leland Stanford drove his spike into the hole, a circuit would be closed and the signal would go out as far as Halifax, Nova Scotia, announcing the completion of America’s transcontinental railroad.

  At 12:27, Dr. John Todd, a Congregational pastor of great renown, stepped forward to offer a prayer. Jordana recognized the name, if not the man. He had authored over twenty moralistic, bestselling books, many of which had been translated into several languages. A good friend of Thomas Durant, he seemed quite inspired by the entire situation.

  “What a place in which to pray!” he exclaimed.

  The anxious crowd bowed for the two-minute prayer, but Jordana wondered if anyone truly had praying on their mind. She had thanked God already for the wonder and ingenuity that had brought them to this place, and she had no doubt that He must surely be sitting in heaven smiling down on them now, for the day was perfect and the moment pure exhilaration. Had they not been blessed by the hand of God, Jordana had no doubt they would never have made it this far.

  Stanford and Durant each said a short piece, but Durant looked tired and clearly less than enthusiastic. Jordana wondered if he were still considering the money that had been given over in order to bring him to this place.

  With a telegraph wire coiled around his silver hammer, Stanford poised over the spike. Durant too stood ready. Jordana reached for Rich’s hand. The moment had come and her own excitement caused her to want to run up to the place and drive in the spike herself.

  With nothing more needed than a simple tap on the spikes, Stanford and Durant joined the two railroads together. The transcontinental railroad was complete.

  Cheers went up and the engine whistles blasted. The band kicked in amidst the wild celebration, and without warning, Rich gathered Jordana in his arms and silenced her joyous cries with a kiss. It was the best possible way to celebrate as far as Jordana was concerned.

  Days later on the eastbound train to New York City, Jordana felt a strange sense of privilege and honor. She rode in complete luxury in the private train car that belonged to her father and mother. She had her family all around her and the man she loved at her side. There seemed no better place on earth to be, and yet as the train ate up the landscape and the wilderness passed into civilization and cities, Jordana felt a tugging in her heart.

  Standing at the window, she pondered her choices and the life that awaited her. Soon she would be a married woman. She turned and studied Rich sitting across the car, a book resting idly in his lap as he also watched her. She smiled, and he set the book aside and came to stand beside her.

  “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Miss Baldwin. Plotting against me?”

  Her smile broadened. “But of course. What else would I be about? From that first entanglement with Missouri bushwhackers and your famous blue bottle of painful medication, I have desired for nothing but revenge.”

  “You got me to marry you. Isn’t that enough?” he teased.

  She jabbed him hard in the ribs, startling Rich and causing him to let out a surprising howl of protest. The entire car of passengers looked up to see what the problem was.

  “Is he all right?” Carolina questioned in concern.

  Jordana nodded innocently at her mother’s worried expression. “It’s just a little something that bothers him from time to time. Something he picked up in his army days.”

  Everyone looked gravely concerned, except for Brenton, who immediately caught on to Jordana’s meaning and gently nudged Caitlan and winked. Both began to laugh, and the more they laughed, the bigger Jordana’s smile grew. Shaking their heads, Carolina and James went back to their conversations with the other children. Jordana leaned against the wall and smiled sweetly at her husband-to-be.

  “You really should do something about that affliction,” Brenton called out between his chuckles.

  Rich rubbed his sore ribs. “Oh, I intend to,” he said, his look of pain quickly passing into a devilish grin. “You just wait. I have plans for you, Miss Baldwin.”

  “And I have plans for you, Captain O’Brian,” she replied. “The most interesting and adventurous plans a man could ever hope for.”

  He reached out and touched her tenderly. His index finger traced her cheek gently as he stepped close. “I only hope God can keep up with us.”

  “Oh, but of course He will,” she replied. “He’ll be in the lead, remember?”

  “Indeed He will!” Rich smiled. “Of course.”

  JUDITH PELLA has been writing for the inspirational market for more than twenty years and is the author of more than thirty novels, most in the historical fiction genre. Her recent novel Mark of the Cross and her extraordinary four-book Daughters of Fortune
series showcase her skills as a historian as well as a storyteller. Her degrees in teaching and nursing lend depth to her tales, which span a variety or settings. Pella and her husband make their home in Oregon.

  Visit Judith’s Web site at: www.judithpella.com

  TRACIE PETERSON is the bestselling, award-winning author of more than 80 novels. Tracie also teaches writing workshops at a variety of conferences on subjects such as inspirational romance and historical research. She and her family live in Belgrade, Montana.

  Visit Tracie’s Web site at: www.traciepeterson.com

  Books by Tracie Peterson

  * * *

  www.traciepeterson.com

  House of Secrets • A Slender Thread • Where My Heart Belongs

  LAND OF THE LONE STAR

  Chasing the Sun

  BRIDAL VEIL ISLAND*

  To Have and To Hold • To Love and Cherish

  SONG OF ALASKA

  Dawn’s Prelude • Morning’s Refrain

  Twilight’s Serenade

  STRIKING A MATCH

  Embers of Love • Hearts Aglow

  Hope Rekindled

  ALASKAN QUEST

  Summer of the Midnight Sun

  Under the Northern Lights • Whispers of Winter

  Alaskan Quest (3 in 1)

  BRIDES OF GALLATIN COUNTY

  A Promise to Believe In

  A Love to Last Forever

  A Dream to Call My Own

  THE BROADMOOR LEGACY*

  A Daughter’s Inheritance

  An Unexpected Love

  A Surrendered Heart

  BELLS OF LOWELL*

  Daughter of the Loom • A Fragile Design

  These Tangled Threads

  LIGHTS OF LOWELL*

  A Tapestry of Hope • A Love Woven True

  The Pattern of Her Heart

  DESERT ROSES

  Shadows of the Canyon • Across the Years

  Beneath a Harvest Sky

  HEIRS OF MONTANA

  Land of My Heart • The Coming Storm

  To Dream Anew • The Hope Within