Traveled Hearts (First In Series Book 1)

by Veronica Mahara

  “I’m Kevin Rolland, mum, and this is my wife, Hannah. We are happy to be in your and Mr. Moore’s employ.”

  “Yes, mum. We sure are excited to be on this journey with you. Leaving the older Moores will be a pleasure, I can tell you that.”

  “Hannah!” Kevin looked at his wife, then back to Jessica. “She means we are–”

  “I’m happy to make your acquaintance, Hannah, Kevin. It will be good to travel together.”

  Kevin bowed and Hannah curtsied.

  “We’ll be boarding now, mum,” Kevin said.

  Jessica winced. “That is not our train. Our train is the cargo one. It will board shortly.”

  “Oh,” said the Rollands.

  “It will serve our needs, I’m sure.”

  “No doubt it will,” said Hannah.

  ~

  The small compartment was stuffy and smelled of old clothes and wood that had taken on the stale body odor of so many travelers. With her luggage having been stored in cargo, she placed her satchel on the shelf above her head. At least Frederick had spent the extra for a compartment. The rows of wooden seats she passed in the general seating area looked quite uncomfortable.

  The Rollands settled in across from her. “These seats have good padding,” Hannah remarked. “We should be quite all right,” Kevin said. Jessica sat down and adjusted the skirt of her dress minding the pouch of money sewn into her petticoat. That and her luggage were her only possessions now. Clinging to thoughts of her new life, she was barely able to keep herself from running off the train. It sped up and her heart beat as if it were trying to keep time with the click-clack on the rails. At last she settled her nerves, and the excitement of this new adventure replaced her fears. After all, this was what she craved for so long. A smile crossed her face as the large, steel locomotive took her through time and space to her new home.

  ~

  Valley Depot and Hartford quickly receded into the distance and her future lay ahead. Coming away from the window, Jessica smiled at the Rollands. They looked content. They weren’t much older than she. Kevin was tall and thin, but he appeared strong. With his short, thick, strawberry-blond hair and ruddy complexion, he looked more Irish than English. Hannah was shorter and broader but looked just as capable. Her round face and wavy, blonde hair tucked in a neat bun at her nape complemented her husband’s appearance. Jessica was relieved by their youth. They couldn’t act so much as her guardians, and she could be free to exercise her adulthood.

  The first leg of the journey took her to New York City where she and her companions were obliged to change trains. A steward approached Jessica as they all waited for the next cargo train.

  “Miss, you’re in the wrong area,” he said. “I’ll be happy to direct you to the express.”

  Handing their tickets to the man, Jessica waited. Furrowing his brow, the man looked her up and down then said, “Very well, get along.”

  Jessica’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Rushing to the ticket agent’s window, she waited in line. Finally, she was able to inquire about upgrading their tickets. “How much for the express to San Francisco?”

  “Ninety-five dollars, madame.”

  Frederick had given her only forty dollars and her own money came to less than that. Somewhat deflated, she joined the Rollands and waited to be loaded onto the cargo train.

  By nightfall, the padded benches became their beds, and Jessica bunched her skirt underneath her body for more comfort, resenting Frederick’s lack of consideration. She learned the cargo train took nearly four days longer to reach the coast than the express. The thought of nearly ten days of this made her weary.

  From the vast, rolling hills of green, yellow, and brown to the dipping valleys seen from their vantage point atop a winding ridge, her fingers worked feverishly to capture it all on paper. She looked forward to every stop, hoping it would offer something more than a quick stretch and a local newspaper, but each one seemed just the same as the last—little groupings of houses around a depot, one saloon, maybe a church, and a small general store with nothing worth looking at. Always cargo being unloaded from the train and other cargo being loaded onto the train. Lumber for new houses, housewares, stoves, grain, people. She felt more like cargo with each passing day.

  On day four, they neared their next stop. Jessica brushed her wrinkled skirt and redid the pins in her hair. Peering out of the window, she was pleased to see this depot had an eatery alongside the general store. And she wasn’t the only one. The excited passengers swarmed toward both, leaving Jessica, Hannah, and Kevin to fight their way to the first open table they spied in the small café. The food on the train was barely edible, and the aroma surrounding them smelled like home cooking. Jessica could feel the juices in her stomach churn. She had long gone through her aunt’s delicious biscuits.

  As the three savored boiled potatoes and slabs of ham, a man announced that the train would be leaving from the Cheyenne, Wyoming station in one hour. After her meal, Jessica decided to pencil in the scenery. It captured her imagination, which was filled with the lives of cowboys, pioneers and Indians. She was amused at the large, straw-like balls tumbling at the wind’s bidding. Never had she witnessed such open land without trees. Only a few rocky hills in the distance gave a break to its vastness. She wondered how anyone could survive out here, and she thought about the Indians. Would she see any? The conductor had instructed the passengers not to wander too far from the train or station on their recent stops. Her heart quickened, but she felt perfectly safe.

  The shade of the train provided relief from the searing sun and she fell easily back into her relationship with pencil and paper. The air was dry and dusty but without the stifling humidity that accompanied this sort of warmth back home. As she sketched she made references to color on the side of her tablet so she could put paint to it in the future. She loved organizing her subjects for later, when the memory of the moment would be revisited and the pencil drawing would come alive with color. She gazed out at the large fluffy clouds on the horizon.

  “That’s a fine job you’re doing.”

  The baritone voice startled Jessica. She turned around to find a large man leaning over her shoulder. Shading her eyes, she tilted her neck up to take in the full height of the rugged cowboy. She’d heard about these men and what they were capable of doing. Her instincts were alerted, and she immediately felt frightened and vulnerable. Folding her paper around her pencil, she looked for other passengers.

  “Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to catch you off guard like that.” He tipped his hat back exposing a deeply tanned and creased complexion behind a full beard and heavy brows. He squinted his eyes and examined her face. “What’s a pretty lady like yourself doing on that hunk of steel?” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, and his other hand was on her waist. She only heard him say, “Why not you and me …” before clutching her paper to her chest and running back to the café.

  Her insides were still shaking as the train slowly labored out of the station. Finally, she relaxed and with the rocking of the train she fell into an easy sleep. She was awakened by the conductor announcing the next stop. They would remain on the train. She sat up slowly, and stretched her arms and legs, and rubbed her stiff back. The Rollands were leaning on each other as they slept and it made her smile. She longed for the closeness she hoped for with Frederick and was missing with Jacob.

  When the train came to a stop, she peered out the window looking at the passengers disembarking and the large crates leaving the train. She wondered for a moment what these particular ones held. Sitting back, she prayed they’d be at their final destination soon. A newspaper sat beside Kevin, and she gently picked it up. It had last week’s date at the top, but old news was better than no news.

  Her eyes went to the headline: “Illegal Gunrunners Scorched” Recognizing the name Keaton, she hitched a breath. Could this be the same man Jacob and Will had teamed up with? The article described the raid on a camp of outlaws who covered their a
ctions under the title of a trading business run by one Jones Keaton—a wanted man. The sheriff of the small Colorado town claimed they had killed all the outlaws and confiscated many of the illegal weapons and ammunition then set the camp on fire in the dark of night. The bodies of the men were taken to the pauper’s cemetery for burial without informing next of kin, for sanitation and safety. The paper slid out of her hand and fell to the floor. The rumors in Hartford were right. She needed air. She struggled to open the window. Kevin was quickly by her side.

  “Mum, steady yourself. Hannah, wake up!”

  Jessica stuck her head out of the window, gasping.

  “What is it? Oh, dear, I’ll get her some tea.” Hannah rushed out of the compartment.

  Once she had restored her breathing, she broke down and began to cry. She felt Kevin patting her hand, and she was relieved she wasn’t alone. The open paper lay at her feet. “It said they were all dead,” Jessica whispered. Her hands began to shake and she felt faint.

  Looking at the headline, Kevin said, “Mum, that article was about some lawbreaking cowboys I reckon far from here. Don’t you mind it. The tea will help.”

  Jessica trembled. “I guess the traveling has gotten the better of me. I’ll be fine. Yes, some tea would be nice, thank you. And Mr. Moore need not know about this. Do you understand? He worries so.”

  “Of course, mum.”

  Sleep was hard to find, and she lie awake that night, putting together a timeline for her own comfort. As she grew wary of her mind’s endless pursuit for answers, she concluded that Will and Jacob had abandoned the unlawful Keaton to go off on their own long before this terrible tragedy.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The heavy rain pelted the compartment window for the second straight day. By late morning it showed no sign of stopping. Jessica shifted restlessly in her seat, unable to get comfortable. Her bottom was sore and her bunched-up skirt and the thin pad on the bench had long ceased to offer any comfort. Kevin rested a hand on Hannah’s knee as she worked her knitting needles, he in a light snooze. The passenger who had joined their compartment in Laramie City read a book, ignoring them all. Bored and sleepy Jessica fell into a fitful rest.

  Without warning, a loud crash of steel and a violent jolt threw her and the stranger into Kevin and Hannah, whose own bodies were slapped against their seats with the same great energy. The car lit up, struck by a bolt of lightning. Screaming steel penetrated their compartment, and they were thrown onto the floor like rag dolls amid the broken glass and their belongings. Cries and shouts sounded throughout the train as Kevin and the man helped the women to their feet.

  “What happened?” Hannah cried out.

  Jessica’s head was spinning and her whole body hurt. She shuddered uncontrollably as she quickly gathered up the scattered contents of her large satchel. Shards of glass pricked her fingers and her skirts were stained with her blood. Kevin dragged open the wooden door of their compartment. Jessica followed Kevin, with Hannah close behind. The cries of the other passengers, crowded in the narrow corridor, rang in her head. This must be a dream. She wiped her face and came away with more blood. Her head had a small gash. She reached into her pocket for her handkerchief and held it to her wound.

  Squeezing and pushing their way through the chaos of panicking people, Jessica and her companions made their way off the train. The midmorning sky was dark. The smell of rain mingling with the burning coal filled her mouth with an acrid taste. Her feet sank into the soft mud. Making every effort not to slip, she labored to higher ground. Glancing back to see Kevin helping Hannah up the steep bank, she returned to her own struggle and quickly lost her footing, plunging into the soupy earth. Jerking herself upright, she continued to the top of the hill. Wiping her face of mud and blood, she spit out the silt from her mouth.

  From the higher vantage point, she could see what had happened. An avalanche of rocks and mud across the tracks had caused the train to derail. Some of the cars were on their side, their cargo spilling out. It looked like a toy a child had carelessly played with. A small fire ignited in the second cargo hold. The flames hissed under a deluge of rain.

  Assured that she and Hannah were fine, Kevin joined the other men assisting those still trapped on the train. The folks walking from the wreck looked dazed. Her mother’s words came to her mind … “and for the less fortunate.” She felt no different than any of them.

  The merciless rain beat down. Soon she and Hannah were standing in a pool of water. She had to shout to be heard over the downpour. “We can’t stay here! We have to find our luggage! I’m sure there’s another station not far from here!” She hoped she was right.

  Hannah refused to move. “No, we have to wait for Kevin!”

  “We’ll find him, Hannah! We can’t stay up here! The ground isn’t stable!” Jessica gripped Hannah by the arm.

  The others moved from the rain-soaked hill, crowding around them. The young English girl stopped abruptly. One of her shoes had been sucked into the mud. “Oh! My boot, mum! My boot!”

  A stranger pulled the shoe out from the muck as he rushed by, his wife clinging to his side. “Thank you, sir!” She held onto Jessica as she stepped into her sodden shoe.

  “Come on!” Jessica pulled her along.

  The ground gave way beneath them, and they were thrown into a large, black pool alongside the tracks. Jessica pulled herself out of the puddle, coughing up the dirty liquid that splashed into her mouth. Scrambling around for her satchel, she finally found the wet but undamaged bag. The drawings inside of her and Jacob were still dry, and she clutched it to her body.

  With one hand holding her heavy skirt high above her ankles and the other holding on to Hannah and her bag, she searched for Kevin through the chaos. Stunned into silence, the other passengers huddled together, waiting for instructions from the conductor and his crew. The dark clouds drifted to the east, yet the rain continued. After what seemed like hours, Jessica heard horses neighing in the distance. Several buggies and flatbeds dropped toward them over the ridge. Her shoulders relaxed. Someone had found them.

  Helping to place a young woman with an open gash on her neck into a flatbed, Jessica hoped the girl wasn’t dead, only unconscious. Staring down at the woman, helpless in her horror, she felt a tugging at her sleeve. It was Kevin, his face flushed, rain dripping off his nose. In a hoarse voice he said he had secured passage to the next station. She and Hannah hurried alongside him in the direction of a man who was speaking to a small crowd. “I’ve got a horse and flatbed on my ranch not far from here!” the man shouted. “I could get about twenty of you in it. Only the able-bodied. Can’t care for the injured. You’ll have to walk the mile or so to get to my place, but I can take you from there to the stagecoach station.”

  Jessica turned to the baggage car where the rest of her luggage was stored. “I’ll ask the conductor where my cases are.”

  Kevin jerked her back. “No. That man is leaving now. We have to go!”

  Forced to walk away from the disabled train and its forlorn passengers, and somewhere in it all her baggage and the rest of her art supplies, Jessica trudged along with the rest of them. Yet she couldn’t grieve her loss. She was alive, after all, and mostly uninjured.

  The rancher rode ahead of their weary group in a small, covered buggy, his horse splashing its way through the rain-soaked grassland, leaving a dismal path for them to follow. Though none of the twenty passengers spoke a word, they could be heard by the sucking sounds of their shoes stepping through the mud. Soon Jessica couldn’t feel her feet. Any daydreams she had entertained of her future now turned to thoughts of survival. Once at the rancher’s stables, they piled into the back of his open wagon, each finding a tiny bit of space on its slatted bottom and between the straw bales. Some women had to sit on their husbands’ laps. The rain finally let up.

  Kevin was in front of her with Hannah curled up next to him. Leaning into the railed side to avoid touching the man next to her, she let the smell of the wagon take he
r mind to happier times–the hayrides she had taken with her friends on clear, crisp fall evenings. Sometimes Will and Jacob would join in those hayrides. Her memory fell on one occasion when she was fourteen. Jacob had brought a red-plaid, wool blanket with him, which he draped over her shoulders. She ached for him to be with her now, keeping her warm. The wagon jerked violently, and she got tossed to the side into the man next to her. She pulled herself upright. The man said nothing and she didn’t apologize. Feeling embarrassed and humiliated, she swore she would never again take for granted a decent carriage or hackney. Her impulse to ride a horse as fast as she knew how and find a way out of her predicament was a mere fantasy. She looked around at the others and sighed. The landscape was flat and dotted with cattle, offering only boredom and the reminder of why she was there.

  When they finally reached the Brice Ford Stagecoach Station, about ten miles from the train wreck, the rancher undid the board from the pen-like enclosure they had traveled in for nearly four hours. Jessica was one of the last to climb down, her legs cramped. She felt dizzy and held to the wagon to get her balance. The low hanging sun piercing through the clouds gave little warmth. A chill ran through her entire body and she rubbed her achy, stiff shoulders.

  As she came around the wagon, Jessica took in the mob of people surrounding the stagecoach office. No doubt, word of the train wreck had already reached the waiting crowd. The long, low building was neatly painted white, and several coaches were parked in a graveled area to the side. She looked at the big, round clock hanging outside the station. Seven thirty. It would be dark soon, so they needed to find a place to stay. The station manager was doing his best to give out his limited information above the shouts of questions and cries for loved ones. Kevin helped to push them to the front, and after some time, they were issued tickets for the morning’s stagecoach departure, which would take them to the next train station.