Antebellum BK 1

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  “Hold still.” Anna pulled Nancy’s chin around. “I can’t do this unless you look at me and stop fidgeting.”

  “How did the subject of me in Phil’s bed arise?” Nancy asked.

  “The day before we left, I told him I was going to Utah and that he’d have to find a replacement for me.”

  “And you suggested me as your replacement?” Nancy squeaked.

  “No, silly. You were coming to Utah with me. Why would I suggest you?”

  “So he decided on his own that I might be a candidate for his bed?”

  “Yes. But don’t get bigheaded about it. Phil’s always on the lookout for a new quail.”

  “I was actually wondering why he’d consider me, in view of the fact that I’m a married woman.”

  “The word’s apparently out among the men of the world, like Phil, that you’re available.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  “You can’t blame me for it, Nancy. I really did try to keep you in the straight and narrow.”

  “I know you did. The guilt’s all mine. But now that I’ve earned it, I don’t like how it feels to carry it.”

  “Hold still. I almost have it. Ah. There.” She showed the cinder to Nancy.

  “Thank you,” Nancy said. She rubbed her eye, and then once again looked around the crowded platform. “It is absolutely inexcusable to treat first-class passengers in this manner.”

  “The stationmaster explained what happened. This isn’t usual.”

  “Yes, he explained that the luggage train is on the wrong track blocking the passenger train. As if a blunder like that was a completely unimportant occurrence.”

  “It isn’t that important. Standing here for five minutes while they move the two trains around isn’t going to harm us or any of these other people.”

  “Don’t you find the company’s incompetence alarming, Anna? What if, through that same incompetence, they put two trains going in opposite directions on the same track?”

  “Nancy. These tracks in front of us are sidings. The only reason that the track assignment matters is that this platform that we’re standing on makes boarding easier than climbing steps. Somebody thought the baggage train was the passenger train and threw the wrong switch. No harm’s been done.”

  “You are aware that this railroad is entirely unsafe, aren’t you?” Nancy asked, as the baggage train pulled out toward the Pacific and the passenger train began to pull in slowly to replace it at the platform. “Hundreds of people were killed two years ago when this very train derailed. A reporter from one of the daily papers at home was a survivor. The story he wrote was chilling.”

  “I remember reading his story, but the pine railroad ties that caused the accident have all been replaced with some kind of very hard wood. It can’t happen again.”

  The passenger engine in front of the platform lurched violently, sending a noisy chain reaction through the coupled rail cars that caused a few startled gasps and squeals from the waiting passengers.

  “See what I mean?” Nancy pointed. “I think we should find another, safer, more suitable method of crossing the Isthmus.”

  Anna shrugged. “There are only two methods of crossing, Nancy: The Panama Railway or the Camino Real.”

  “I suppose you’re about to tell me why this train is superior to the road,” Nancy said with disdain.

  Anna was very obviously trying to control her temper. “The first half of the Camino Real route’s via the Chagres River in native dugouts, not on a road. During the rainy season, which is now, the Chagres is said to be a raging torrent of whitewater through jagged rocks. The last twenty-odd miles are by mule over ancient Spanish trails that were dug by hand into sheer cliff sides hundreds of years ago. The trip can take over a week.”

  “Getting to the Pacific in a week is a good deal better than being crushed by tons of steel and left for the ants and scavengers in some remote tropical valley.”

  “Fine,” Anna said angrily. She opened her pocketbook and found the Panama Railway envelope. “I’m taking this train.” She pointed at the string of passenger cars. “You can go by mule or walk, for all I care.” Anna handed Nancy one of the two train tickets. “Don’t throw that away, it cost twenty-five dollars.”

  “Twenty-five dollars for a fifty-mile train trip? That’s highway robbery.”

  “What I paid for it is none of your business.” Anna joined the line of people who were beginning to board the train.

  Nancy got in line behind her. “You were the one that brought it up, not I.”

  “You’re right. Throw the ticket away if you want.”

  “Don’t you think that twenty-five dollars is too much, Anna? That’s a half dollar per mile.”

  “I can do the arithmetic, thank you.”

  “I’ll remember that the next time you want me to add a column of figures for you.”

  “I’ll wait for you in San Francisco until the first of July,” Anna said. “If you’re not there by then, I’ll go on to Utah without you.”

  “Why are you being so snotty?” Nancy asked.

  “Because you’ve done nothing but complain since we left,” Anna said as she neared the front of the line.

  “What have I complained about?”

  “The Central America’s staterooms were too small and had no private bath. The first-class dining room was too small and cheaply decorated. The menu was lacking. There was a constant smell of coal smoke. Should I go on?”

  “They were all valid complaints.”

  “Perhaps they were – if you’d been complaining to the ship’s company, but you kept whining to me and I’m sick and tired of it.” Anna gave her ticket to the conductor and stepped into the vestibule.

  “Bitch,” Nancy shouted.

  “Are you boarding, Madam?” the conductor asked politely.

  Nancy glared at him. “What?”

  “There are people behind you waiting to board,” he said. “If you don’t wish to board now, please step aside.”

  “Uh…” Nancy hesitated, handed him the ticket, and then looked behind at the impatient faces. “I’m sorry.”

  June 24, 1857

  Panama

  Anna and Nancy hadn’t spoken since the confrontation at Aspinwall. After arriving in Panama, both had tried to obtain separate staterooms aboard the SS Golden Gate, but the first-class cabin was full, and neither of the women was willing to travel in second-class while the other was accommodated in a first-class stateroom.

  When the maid had finished the unpacking and left them alone, Anna went into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed, leaving Nancy standing in the small sitting room.

  “I’m going to need my clothes and things to dress for dinner,” Nancy shouted as the ship began to make way.

  “The door’s open,” Anna called back in an equally loud voice.

  “I’d like a little privacy, if you please.”

  “Then get your clothes and change out there.”

  “There’s no dressing table out here.”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  Someone pounded on the bulkhead. “Hey hold it down, over there,” a male voice shouted. “Yer not the only people on this tub.”

  Nancy giggled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Nancy walked into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. “Tonight we should put on a show for him.”

  “For who?”

  “For that man next door.”

  “What kind of show?”

  “Moans and groans and squeals of passion.”

  Anna laughed. “You’re so depraved.”

  Nancy wrinkled her nose. “I know.”

  Anna moved over to give Nancy room to lie down. “I don’t know about you, but after fighting with you I was too upset to sleep last night and now I’m dead tired.”

  Nancy began unbuckling her shoes. “We shouldn’t fight. After all these years we should know when to back away.”

  “Believe me, I gav
e you as much room as I could manage, but you were being impossible.”

  “I know I was.” Nancy nodded. “I’ve been worried about seeing Robert. Guilt’s just weighing me down.”

  “Any better now?”

  “No, but I’ll keep it to myself.” She stretched out beside Anna. “Wake me if you decide to go to dinner.”

  “I think I’ll sleep the clock ‘round.”

  “That’d be okay too.” She held up her hand and Anna took it.

  July 5, 1857

  San Francisco, California

  Nancy pushed her way through the debarking passengers and ran into her husband’s arms. “Oh, what a wonderful surprise.” She kissed him and clung to his neck.

  “What are you doing here?” Anna demanded.

  Robert extracted himself from Nancy’s crushing embrace and put his arm around her to face his sister. “I’m going home. And so are you.”

  “No we’re not,” Anna replied. “At least I’m not. You and Nancy can do whatever you wish, but I have an assignment.”

  “Brigham Young declared martial law in the territory and he’s denying access to the Territory.”

  “He doesn’t have the power; he’s not the governor anymore,” Anna said.

  “If you know that for a fact, you’re the only person out here that does,” he replied.

  Anna looked uncertain. “President Buchanan hasn’t sent Young’s replacement?”

  “No, but it doesn’t really matter,” Robert said. “Brigham Young controls the Territory with his militia, and he’s reported to have signed a treaty with the Utes giving them permission to attack anyone trying to enter Utah through any of the passes.” He looked around. “Where’s your baggage?”

  “They said we could pick it up at the terminal,” Nancy said.

  “They gave us these.” Anna handed him several baggage claim checks.

  He thumbed through them. “I have a coach hired, but it won’t be able to carry all this. Maybe we could leave some of the trunks in storage.”

  “Why not have the hotel pick up the luggage?” Nancy asked.

  Robert shook his head. “Every hotel is full. I rented us two adjoining bedrooms in a rooming house about ten miles from here.”

  Nancy made a face.

  “It’s very nice,” Robert said defensively. “The woman who owns the house is a widow and she treats her tenants like guests.”

  “You and your widows,” Nancy said.

  “This one’s about seventy,” Robert replied.

  “I can’t understand why the President hasn’t replaced Brigham Young,” Anna said, going back to the original subject.

  “Sometime in the next few days, Captain Stewart Van Vliet’s supposed to start for Salt Lake City from Kansas carrying a letter from General Harney or the President,” Robert said.

  “How do you know that?” Anna asked.

  “I still have a lot of friends at the Presidio,” Robert replied. “Jack was the military governor with his headquarters here until he resigned. He was well liked by everyone.” He took Anna’s arm. “You must be tired after that long trip. Let’s see about your luggage and get you settled.”

  July 29, 1857

  Rancho San Leandro, California

  Anna and Nancy were sitting on a bench in the garden of Josephina Ward’s comfortable adobe ranch house.

  “You’re going to drive your husband away if you don’t do something to overcome this funk that you’re in, Nancy.”

  Nancy closed her eyes. “I know.”

  “If you’d tell me what’s bothering you, maybe I could help.”

  Nancy sighed and nodded. “You’ll laugh when I tell you.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Nancy turned and looked at her. “Clementine.”

  Anna gave her a baffled look and shook her head.

  “Clementine’s ruined Jack’s career – his whole life.”

  “Could be. I didn’t know that you cared that much for Jack.”

  “I do care for him but that’s not what I mean.”

  “What do you mean, then?”

  “I’m afraid that I may have done the same thing to Robert.”

  “You’re talking about Phil Key’s comment, I gather?”

  “Yeah, that, and some other things that’ve happened recently to make me think that a lot of people know about my infidelity.”

  “I don’t have any advice.”

  “No, I didn’t think you would, but it was worth a try.” She sighed. “Maybe I should just confess and get it over with.”

  “That’ll make you feel better and it’ll crush Robert.”

  “But he may already know. I mean – maybe he’s forgiven me and I’m suffering for nothing.”

  “If your only concern is for yourself, by all means, tell him,” Anna said. “But if you really love him, and you don’t want to hurt him any more than you already have, stay silent and suffer for your sins.”

  Nancy nodded slowly. “I wish I could live my life over again, knowing what I know now.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  They both stood up and walked toward the gate at the sound of a horse coming up the long driveway.

  “It’s Robert,” Anna said.

  “He doesn’t look happy,” Nancy replied. “I hope it’s not my fault.”

  “Stop that,” Anna whispered. She took Nancy’s elbow and steered her back to the bench where they had been sitting.

  Robert came through the gate a short time later, reading a letter. “Brigham Young’s called in all his missionaries and he’s told the Saints in Salt Lake to be prepared to burn their homes and repel the invasion.”

  “Then I don’t suppose he’s changed his mind about visitors,” Anna said.

  Robert looked back at the letter. “He says that ‘no person shall be allowed to pass or repass into, through or from this territory without a permit from the proper officer.’ That pretty clearly means no visitors.”

  Anna nodded. “It doesn’t look like I can get there, does it.”

  “It doesn’t look like you have any reason to get there.” He handed her a telegram. “Sorry. I thought it might have been from somebody in the family so I opened it and read it.”

  Anna read the telegram and handed it to Nancy. “My freelance contract’s been cancelled.”

  Nancy read through the wire. “Well, at least they’re paying your expenses.”

  “They’ll pay for second-class and you were critical of the first-class accommodations coming out here.”

  “I’ll pay the difference for first-class,” Nancy said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Anna replied. “I don’t care about the money; I was just commenting that they weren’t really being very generous by paying for second-class accommodations.” She sighed. “I would have liked to have interviewed Brigham Young and seen Salt Lake City after hearing Jack’s description of it.”

  “Some of the eastern papers are calling this affair Buchanan’s Blunder,” Robert said. “I anticipate a negotiated end to it by next year. You can come back then. Brigham Young and Salt Lake City will still be here.”

  Anna looked at Nancy. “So? How do we go home? By land or sea?”

  “Sea,” Robert said before Nancy could answer. “The mountain passes are sometimes snowed in before the end of September.”

  “Are you coming with us?” Nancy asked.

  He shook his head. “I have to wait for Stewart Van Vliet’s report or further word from Washington.”

  “Why?” Anna asked.

  “I had some dealing with the Mormons in Iowa. The State Department has asked me to stand by.”

  “When do you expect to hear from someone?” Nancy asked.

  He shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow, maybe next month, maybe next year.”

  “You won’t stay a year, will you?” Nancy asked in alarm.

  He shook his head. “I’ll give it until fall and if things are the same, I’ll come home.”

  August 15, 1857

  San Fra
ncisco, California

  Anna, Nancy and Robert were waiting on the dock for the boarding call. Anna pointed toward a steam-powered crane that was lifting cargo nets from the dock and lowering them into the ship’s aft hold. “Do you know what’s in those crates that they’re loading now, Nancy?”

  “I do,” Robert said.

  “I didn’t ask you,” Anna growled.

  “No, Anna,” Nancy giggled. “I don’t know what’s in those crates.”

  “Gold,” Anna said. She stuck her tongue out at her brother.

  “Freshly minted twenty-dollar gold pieces,” Robert added. “From the San Francisco mint.”

  “How much does all that gold weigh?” Nancy asked nervously.

  Robert shrugged. “A lot. Ten tons, maybe.”

  “Was the ship built to hold that much weight?”

  “I’m sure that the captain wouldn’t permit his vessel to be overloaded,” Robert said. He took his watch from his pocket, looked at the time and closed it.

  Anna turned toward him. “There’s no need for you to wait. Kiss me goodbye.”

  He gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek, then turned to Nancy. “I’ll be home soon. I promise.”

  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. “I’ll be waiting for you every day.”

  September 12, 1857

  Off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina

  The bow of SS Central America, which had been turned into the ferocious wind that had been battering her for two full days, was now drifting freely. Wearing only a soaking-wet shift, Anna staggered into the stateroom that she’d been sharing with Nancy since they left the Panamanian port of Colón on the third. “It’s no good,” Anna shouted over the creaks and groans of the tortured ship. “The water’s put out the fires in the boilers. The steam will be gone soon. Without the pumps, the bucket brigade can’t hope to keep up, and without propulsion we’re at the fate of the hurricane.”

  Nancy hurried toward her with a towel. “I know.” Nancy too was dressed only in wet undergarments. “The water’s pouring in through the breached seal of the paddle wheel. It can’t be stopped. That was going to drown us anyway, pumps or no pumps.”