by Nancy Moser
“Why are we stopping so soon?” Josephine asked as the train slowed.
Lewis looked out and saw that they were on a high embankment. He stuck his head out the window and saw a bridge coming up. Was there a problem on the bridge?
But then he saw a large group of Indians riding fast toward the train. “They’re going to attack!”
The railcars echoed with screams both male and female, and the men called for guns.
But once again General Dodge walked down the aisle of the car, telling them that a Pawnee reservation was close by. “I have arranged for your enjoyment a mock meeting of the grand and terrific, with the Pawnee fighting against the Sioux.”
“So now we have two tribes around us?”
“Just one,” the general said. “Both sides will be played by our friends, the Pawnee.”
“Can we go outside in order to see better?” Josephine asked.
“Josephine!” Frieda said.
But the general smiled. “You may, Miss Cain.”
She turned to Lewis and said, “Let’s go.”
He had no wish to be outside. Friend or no friend, he didn’t trust any Indian.
“Lewis?”
He saw Sam Rosewood exit the train, carrying his equipment. Lewis should go sketch. The lure to capture the moment on paper stirred him. . . .
“Lewis?” Josephine said again, nearly at the door.
He grabbed his art supplies and went with her, but in his opinion, Josephine was too bold for her own good.
Like the sunset the night before, Josephine wished the battle of the Indians would slow down so she could take it all in. “Isn’t this astonishing?”
“It seems a bit excessive,” Lewis said. “A war dance and a mock battle?”
“Oh pooh,” she said. “It is glorious.”
Horses reared and plunged against each other as Indian grappled Indian. Rifles, revolvers, and arrows shot out, and people fell from their horses, leaving riderless steeds roaming over the plain. There was even a mock scalping that made her gasp and other ladies scream. All was confusion and turmoil, until the Pawnee were victorious and brought their beaten enemies into camp, shouting in celebration of their triumph.
Her heart beat in her chest, and she felt her cheeks grow warm in exhilaration. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“It is not wonderful,” Frieda said. “Pretending to kill is near as bad as real killing.”
“No, it isn’t. No one was hurt.” She pointed to the scalped victim, who now stood in full health. “See?”
“It’s not ladylike to be exhilarated, Josephine. Death is not exhilarating.”
No it was not, and Josephine had a hard time justifying her feeling. “Death isn’t, but truth is. If this is the truth of the West, I am glad to see it.”
Dr. Durant rode out among the Indians and threw presents and trinkets into the band. They scrambled for the gifts as if they were gold. Durant returned to the guests like a conquering hero. “And there you have it, folks. The Wild West played out right before your eyes.” He bowed to the applause. “Now, all aboard! Off we go to the one-hundredth meridian!”
As they boarded the train, Josephine caught sight of Mr. Maguire. He tipped his hat.
She felt herself blush with another kind of exhilaration.
Josephine looked out the window as they passed a town called Plum Creek. “I never knew there were so many towns out here. Silver Creek, Lone Tree, Grand Island, Elm Creek, Kearney.”
Senator Hayes heard her remark. “Many of the towns were planted nearly twenty years ago with the expectation that the train would come someday.”
“But what if the train hadn’t come this way?”
He shrugged. “The towns would have died.” He pointed out the window. “Many still will. In the West, only the strong survive.”
Frieda gripped the armrest of the seat. “Aren’t we going too fast?”
General Dodge—who always seemed close at hand—answered her. “We’re making up for lost time. I’ve told the engineer to get us there fast. We’re traveling at upwards of forty-five miles per hour.”
Another man stood to join in the discussion. “Isn’t that against railroad operating rules?”
Dodge leaned close. “It is. So, shh. I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Lewis spoke up. “Wasn’t there a massacre at Plum Creek?”
His words elicited a round of murmurs from the other passengers.
“That was two years ago and involved a wagon train,” Dodge said. “Not the railroad.”
“I remember that,” said a man. “Weren’t a lot of pioneers killed and some of the women and children captured?”
For the first time, Josephine saw the jaw of General Dodge clench, as if he were struggling to control his anger. “Yes. There were nearly a dozen innocent people killed, and a few taken captive.”
Josephine looked out the window, remembering the mock Indian battle they had witnessed just hours earlier. The Pawnee were friendly—now—but were they . . . “Excuse me, General, but were the Indians that attacked the pioneers Pawnee?”
“Oh no,” he said. “They were Cheyenne. You have nothing to fear from the Pawnee.”
“But much to fear from the Cheyenne?” Lewis asked.
He received a glare from the general before the man put on his host-face again. “Now, now, ladies and gentlemen. Enough ancient history. Today we celebrate a magnificent moment. We are making our own history.” He looked out the window and pointed. “And here we are! The one-hundredth meridian!”
The train stopped, and they dutifully got out. But all that was there was a wooden arch with a sign above two posts, announcing its importance:
100th Meridian
247 Miles from Omaha
“I need to make a sketch,” Lewis said.
As he went off to do his work, Mr. Maguire came near. “Are you impressed, Miss Cain?”
“By the accomplishment, certainly. But the exact spot is a little . . . anticlimactic.” She looked across the prairie, which stretched long and far in every direction. “I am not sure of the significance, except that it is a nice round number. Why are we measuring from a point in England?”
“Ah,” Mr. Maguire said with a glint in his eye. “I don’t have an answer to your last question, but I assure you, the significance is great. By reaching this milestone, the Union Pacific is guaranteed the irrevocable right to keep laying track westward.”
“So it is about money.”
“Of course.”
Why did everything have to be about money? She looked to the west, where the track continued to the horizon. “I thought this was the end of the line.”
“We’ve gone more than forty miles farther. We got to the one-hundredth on the sixth of October, weeks ago, before you even left New York.”
“So the work never ends.”
“Not until we meet up with the Central Pacific.” He must have spotted someone giving a signal, because he nodded and said, “It’s time to move on. Just a few more miles to milepost 279, our next camp.”
The thought of being able to lie down was appealing. “No more Indian raids?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve had your fill?”
“Actually, yes.”
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.
“What are you wanting to say, Mr. Maguire? I insist you say it.”
“I don’t mean to alarm you, but the camp tonight is purposely located near Fort McPherson. Soldiers will be camped close by to . . . to . . .”
She let one thought lead to another. “To protect us from real Indian attacks?”
“There have been bands of hostiles roaming the area.”
“Knowing this, how am I supposed to sleep?”
His brow furrowed. “I just want you to be aware. And safe. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, no,” she said. “I insisted you tell me the truth.”
“But the truth has caused you to worry, and for that I’m
sorry.”
She was warmed by his concern. “I will be all right. I am tougher than I look.”
Josephine was glad her words made him smile. He touched the tip of his hat and left her.
Left her feeling very much alone.
They arrived at camp after dark and were told there was a grand meal awaiting them. But most of the passengers opted to go straight to bed.
Each tent was lit with a lantern, which made Josephine feel both safe—and targeted. She stood at the tent flap, looking out into the night. How many Indians were waiting in the darkness for the group to turn in?
“Enough looking around, Liebchen,” Frieda whined from inside the tent. “You said you wished to retire, so retire.”
She considered telling her about the Indian menace but decided against it.
It was bad enough she knew. Ignorance would have been bliss.
And yet . . . she was honored Mr. Maguire had told her the truth. She knew she was being two-faced, enjoying her knowledge of the truth but regretting the unpleasant reality it exposed. She couldn’t have it both ways.
Either way, sleep would not come easily.
Chapter Ten
“I’m not looking forward to working on the line again,” Raleigh said as the train neared the end of the tracks.
Neither am I. Setting up the two camps had been a relief from the backbreaking work of laying track. And the highlight of Hudson’s respite had been meeting Miss Cain.
The train slowed and Hudson rolled up his sleeves, ready to resume the role of spiker. They both jumped down before the train came to a complete stop. He spotted General Cain on his horse and hurried toward him to offer a report.
“Did everything go well, Maguire?” the general asked.
“Yes, sir. No problems at all.”
He looked past Hudson, toward the train. “Did you happen to meet—?”
“Your daughter? Yes, sir, I did. I think she enjoyed the journey.”
“Papa!”
Josephine hung out a window and waved. The way the general’s face lit up at the sight of her spoke volumes about their relationship.
The general rode toward her, reaching for her hand. “Come out here, daughter. I’ve missed you.”
Josephine nudged her way to the front of the line of people making their exit. The general dismounted, and she ran into his arms.
There were many appreciative sighs and murmurings. Hudson heard someone say, “Too bad she’ll be going back east tomorrow.”
He didn’t want to think about it.
Josephine knew they were getting a show, and she didn’t mind one whit. Watching the railroad men fully synchronized as they lay eight hundred feet of track in a mere thirty minutes was exhilarating.
Of course there was one worker who caught her eye more than the others.
Mr. Maguire . . . the way he swung the hammer in a wide arc, over and over and over, with power yet also with grace. There was a rhythm to the work that mesmerized both visually and audibly.
Lewis sidled up beside her. “I’d like to say that I could do that, but I’m not sure I could.”
She was positive he couldn’t. Lewis was not a man of muscle, but of mind.
Which wasn’t a bad thing.
Necessarily.
Lewis hadn’t been this nervous since he’d joined the Union army—for the second time. Of course it didn’t help that Josephine’s father was a general—the general who had ruined his life. Men like Lewis didn’t feel comfortable with Union officers.
He waited until the general was finished talking to General Dodge.
Two generals. Great. Luckily, Dodge moved on.
“Mr. Simmons,” General Cain said upon seeing him. “Have you enjoyed the excursion?”
“Greatly, sir. I’m very impressed with all the progress you’ve made.”
“Not just me,” he said, stretching an arm toward the track. “The workers are the ones who break their backs to accomplish the dream and build our common destiny.”
“You are very gracious.” Lewis thought the general’s penchant for speaking in such lofty terms as dreams and destiny was overblown. He really doubted the men who were breaking their backs were thinking too much about dreams except in reference to getting a good night’s sleep, and destiny beyond getting their next paycheck.
But who was he to have an opinion about that? He had his own dreams and his own destiny, and they both involved the general and his daughter. Possess the one in order to harm the other.
A man was walking toward them, which meant Lewis’s time was short. “If I may be so bold, sir . . . one reason I wanted to accompany your daughter out west was so I had the opportunity of speaking to you in person about . . . in regard to . . .”
“Do you wish to marry my Josephine, Mr. Simmons?”
Lewis drew in a breath and let it out. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you have good assurance that she will accept your proposal?”
Not yet. “I hope to. Actually, I don’t have an exact plan about when I might ask her, but I wanted to make sure I had your blessing when the time does present itself.”
The man who’d approached now stood a dozen feet away, awaiting his turn.
“We have not yet met your family, Lewis.”
You’ve met my father. “My mother has passed, but my father lives in New York. He is very busy working with the Commodore to rebuild the steamer business. Those pesky Confederate blockade-runners during the war, using a Northern invention for ill-gotten gain . . .” Lewis smiled inwardly, for his family had benefited from that gain. “Father has given me this time away to nourish my passion, my art.”
“So he approves of it?”
Lewis nodded. “My mother was my patron, and my father wishes to respect her memory.”
“Ah.”
“I do know the steamer business, sir. And if my art does not prove of benefit financially, I am prepared to rejoin my father in his work.” Lewis sensed that he was beginning to sound too eager, and he moderated his tone. “You are in the business of railroads, and my family is in the business of waterways. Both modes of transportation are needed for trade and profit, don’t you think?”
“Of course.” The general stroked his chin. “I do appreciate your family’s roots and high connections. I would not have allowed you to court my daughter had I not approved or felt assured that if your relationship ripened, Josephine would be able to live in the manner to which she is accustomed.”
“As expected, sir.”
“How is your art doing—as far as providing a living?” the general asked.
“Very well,” Lewis lied. “I have the highest hopes.” That wasn’t a lie.
“Then I give you my blessing.” He raised a finger. “But the final decision will be Josephine’s. She is a woman who knows her own mind.”
Don’t I know it.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your trust.”
The excursion was leaving.
Miss Josephine Cain was leaving.
Hudson leaned on his spike maul and watched as she made tearful good-byes to her father. All this way, to see each other a few hours.
You’d travel that far to see your loved ones for a few hours.
The image of Sarah Ann and his parents flitted through his mind but didn’t linger. He couldn’t go back to Pennsylvania and visit yet. His place was here with the railroad, undertaking the work that would assure his future. Their future.
His thoughts traveled from Pennsylvania to Nebraska as he saw Miss Cain leave her father’s side and walk toward him.
Raleigh nudged him in the side. “Uh-oh. Here she comes.”
There was a chorus of hoots as the other workers realized that her destination was Hudson.
He left Raleigh’s side to meet her halfway. “Are you ready to leave, Miss Cain?”
“No, I am not. But I have no choice.” She looked at her father longingly. “I miss him already.”
“He misses you too.”
She
nodded once. “I told him how good you were to me, how you gave me special attention and made sure my journey was a good one.”
“I didn’t do that much,” he said.
She looked him squarely in the eyes. “You did more than you know.” She rested her gloved fingers on his arm. “I shall never forget the prairie sunset, Mr. Maguire.” She pointed to her temple. “It is etched in my memory forever.”
He touched his own temple. “As it is in mine.”
She sighed, and he sensed there was more she wanted to say.
There was more he wanted to say, yet the feelings were hard to form into words. “I—I hope we can meet again, Miss Cain. Perhaps you can visit a second time.”
Her eyes lit up. “I . . . Perhaps I can.” She looked back at her father. “Though I doubt it.” She offered him a brave smile. “May God keep you safe, Mr. Maguire.”
“And you, Miss Cain.”
With that, she left him.
Tonight’s my chance.
Fireworks on the prairie. What could be more romantic? If only Lewis could get rid of Frieda for just a few minutes.
This trip wasn’t working out as well as he’d hoped. He wasn’t being accepted as a member of the elite set that populated the junket, and he wasn’t making romantic inroads with Josephine. He’d thought they would grow closer on the long journey. He’d thought they’d be on kissing terms by now.
But every time he thought the time might be right, Frieda was there, or one of the other passengers. Or Josephine popped out of her seat, wanting to see something out of a window on the other side of the train. They had not enjoyed a single minute alone.
He tried to think of diversionary tactics—like tying her in her tent—but in regard to non-forceful means, his mind was blank. As the dinner ended, and the group moved their chairs to the edge of an open field, he decided that perhaps the direct approach was the only way.
As Frieda finished the last of her dessert pastry, Lewis whispered in Josephine’s ear. “Can you come with me a moment?”
She looked at him curiously. “Of course.” She left Frieda and followed Lewis. “Is something wrong?”
It was the opening he needed. “Actually . . . yes. During this entire excursion I’ve longed to spend time alone with you.”