A Promise for Tomorrow (48 page)

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Authors: Judith Pella

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BOOK: A Promise for Tomorrow
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“A risk? Oh, decidedly that,” James countered. “But one well worth the taking. I know you love her, and that gives me great pride and joy. You love her for herself. For the woman she will become. For the heart that beats within her. I only ask that you consider the future and the tasks at hand. I ask that you pray for wisdom and knowledge, that you might go forward with clear thought for tomorrow.”

“She brooks no idea of waiting,” Kiernan said softly.

“Women are often that way in matters of the heart,” James answered. “Especially Victoria. She has little patience. It greatly vexes her to find her plans interrupted.”

“But ya think those plans should be interrupted, don’t you?”

James was rather taken aback. “Why do you ask that?”

Kiernan shrugged. “I suppose from havin’ heard Mrs. Baldwin speak on the matter, and listenin’, too, to the things ya say. It’s given me reason to think.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Kiernan. Thinking a thing through is sound and wise. I doubt when you’ve come to the conclusion of your contemplation that you’ll love my daughter any less.”

“Aye, it’s certain I am on that point,” Kiernan replied. “I think if anythin’ I’ll be lovin’ her more. Maybe even enough to leave her here in yar care while I make a way for us in California.”

“She won’t like that,” James replied, “but perhaps it would be the clearest act of unselfish love I’ve ever witnessed. Even to hear you say that such a thing would be a possibility proves more than ever the truth of your love for my daughter.”

“Never doubt that, sir,” Kiernan said, meeting James eye to eye. “I cannot say I’ve ever loved another more.”

James smiled. “And that is how it should be.” He clapped Kiernan on the back. “Come along, lad. My feet are fairly frozen, and there’s still work to be done.”

They’d barely stepped out to continue their journey, however, when the air was rent with the unmistakable sound of an explosion. The earth shook fiercely under their feet, nearly knocking Kiernan and James to the ground. From up ahead, shaft number two gave off billowing clouds of dust. Someone had blasted in the tunnel, and James would bet money on who that someone might be.

Kiernan, too, looked at him with a panicked expression that suggested his own understanding of the situation. Without words they ran for the tunnel, hoping, praying, that the worst would not be realized.

“What happened?” James called out to the first supervisor he found.

“It was O’Connor,” the man said, his face stricken with a look of disbelief. “He grabbed up a keg of powder and headed in there before anyone could stop him. Said he’d blow the hole through or die trying.”

James turned toward Kiernan but found that the boy had already left his side. Glancing up, James watched him disappear into the dusty haze that still poured out from the mouth of the tunnel.

“Kiernan, wait!”

James rushed after him, calling his name over and over. He coughed fitfully when he drew in a lungful of dust and reached inside his coat to find a handkerchief. Putting this over his nose and mouth, he drew up a nearby lantern with the other hand and pressed into the tunnel.

At this point, the tunnel was fine; there were no cave-ins or other signs of damage from the blast. Pushing deeper, James felt a strange foreboding as the silence engulfed him. He passed the first shaft, peering upward at the dusty light overhead. Sunlight did its best to filter through, but it was as though someone had pulled a veil across the opening.

As the dust settled, James called out again to Kiernan, but again his call went unanswered. The boy had no doubt set out at a full run in hopes of finding his brother. But James knew that the situation did not suggest Red’s survival. No one had seen him come out, and he certainly hadn’t passed James along the way. The closer James drew to the last of the tunnel’s obstacles, the more certain he was that Red was either severely injured or dead.

The first thing to break the silence was the periodic rumble of rock as it fell from the roof of the tunnel. James knew he’d walked into a very dangerous situation, but he couldn’t leave Kiernan to face this alone. Neither could he ignore the fact that other men might well be involved. After all, no one had given the blasting signal that always saw the tunnel emptied of men. No doubt the laborers on the western side would have been hard at work on preparations to break through. James could only wonder how many lives this grandstanding of Red’s might have cost them.

And then James saw it. A pinpoint of light that grew with every step he took. Light that suggested something other than a torch or lantern. Soon enough it became clear that the blast had breached the hard, rocky wall. They were through! The tunnel was open!

But even as this thought came to him, James was aware of the moans and groans of injured men. Running now, he came to the point where the worst of the debris lay in haphazard piles. To the right he finally found Kiernan—cradling the lifeless body of his brother and sobbing as though he had lost his best friend.

“Let me help you get him out,” James suggested, placing the lamp on a large piece of limestone.

“Nay,” Kiernan said, shaking his head over and over. “Leave me be.”

James eyed him for a moment, then backed away. There were others who needed his help, and clearly Kiernan wanted to be alone with Red. Turning to the job at hand, James had managed to throw aside several good-sized rocks before hearing Kiernan move.

He glanced over his shoulder and found the young man struggling to lift his brother. His heart went out to Kiernan, and he thought to go to him and at least help him secure Red’s weight, but something inside held back. Little by little, Kiernan wrestled with the body, until he bore the full weight across his shoulders. As James watched him walk away, others had come to join the cleanup and rescue. Without thinking, James followed after Kiernan, compelled to stay near his friend—hopeful that he might offer some manner of comfort.

As they passed through the oncoming men, caps were doffed and heads bowed as Kiernan bore Red’s body. James thought it strange that even though the group was now mingled with Corkians, Far-downs, and Connaughtmen, all of these fierce Irish seemed of one mind. They were united through the death of one man in a way that they had never been joined in life. They all seemed to understand the finality of the moment—seemed to know that there was no hope of life in Redley O’Connor’s body. They simply stood back, caps in hand, heads bowed as the dead passed by.

There would be no celebration for the tunnel now opened. The price paid had been too high. This clannish breed understood that price—had paid it elsewhere in other forms and had lived to tell their tales of danger and adventure. Red would become one of those tales now. They would speak of him around campfires and in taverns where the drink ran free.

“Aye, I knew Red O’Connor,” the men would say. “He was as fine a Connaughtman as ever there was, and he died drillin’, as many a good tarrier has. Oh, the stories I could tell ya . . .”

James smiled sadly, thinking of how it would be, knowing it was no less than Red would have wanted.

45
Troubled Days

Two years and eight months after breaking ground at the Kingwood Tunnel, James sent word of completion to Ben Latrobe. Carolina shared her husband’s excitement and enthusiasm for the finished tunnel but knew she shared little else. As her children grew and Nicholas’s first birthday was less than a month away, Carolina found herself in the middle of some strange sort of balancing act. She didn’t want James to know how much she resented his opportunities as a man. It wasn’t a proper attitude for a lady, nor was it Christian. Yet Carolina struggled against herself daily. James had the world open to him. He could come and go at will, and she was expected to keep his home and children in order and busy herself with her hands.

She couldn’t recall how many times her mother had spoken to her of a married woman’s place being at home. So she really tried to be happy doing the things she knew were proper. Yet inside there was a turmoil that kept the fires of envy constantly stirred. She would study her husband’s papers, read the reports sent by Thomas Swann and the ever-educational
American Railroad Journal
, but she knew she was only peering through a closed window into a place where she could not go. It was just as her mother had suggested. She had seen the world beyond the garden wall and found it more to her liking.

Staring out on Greigsville from her bedroom window, Carolina gave a heavy sigh.

“I’m thirty-two years old,” she murmured. “I have a loving husband and four beautiful children. I have good friends and a fine house, and more money than I’ll ever have need of. So why am I so unhappy?”

For the longest time, Carolina thought she had dealt with her frustration. After all, when James had been so desperately ill with cholera, Carolina had felt perfectly content to remain at his side. She had no interest in books or railroads when his life was ebbing away. It was then that she realized how her life centered around James. She wanted to share his life. His dreams. His job. She longed to know what his day consisted of and where he went that took him away from her for so many hours.

Whenever Ben Latrobe came to visit, she listened to their discussions, envious of James’ abilities and position. The men spoke of iron truss bridges and problems with the line at Fairmont; negotiating the Monongahela River had proven more difficult than they’d planned. It was fascinating to hear the details of each crisis and resolution.

All through the rainy spring, Carolina had felt James’ anticipation. With every problem, with every conflict, she urged James to explain the situation and detail his thoughts on solutions. She tried to offer her own suggestions, as well. But this only furthered her frustration, as James would point out to her where her thinking was flawed.

And another source of frustration now made itself visible to her. In the yard below, Kiernan and Victoria were walking hand in hand. She paused momentarily to glance up at him with such love and adoration that Carolina found herself unable to look away.

“My child can be content, but I cannot?” she questioned aloud.

Of course, she had convinced herself that the source of Victoria’s satisfaction came in the fact that she had set her sights very low. She wanted nothing more out of life than to be a wife and mother.

“You seem very deep in thought,” James announced as he came through the door to their room.

“I didn’t expect you to be home this soon,” Carolina said, turning from the window but remaining fixed in place. She offered him a smile, feeling love for him that she knew must surely outweigh all of her discontentment. I am simply taking my eyes off of what is real and important, she thought. I get all worked up over issues that have no validity in my life.

“ . . . or so it would seem.”

Carolina shook her head. “What? I’m afraid I was thinking of something else. I didn’t hear what you had to say.”

“I said the fair weather has given over to stimulating young love, or so it would seem,” he said, throwing his frock coat on the bed. “I saw Kiernan and Victoria walking about town.”

“I know. I was just watching them.”

“Oh, spying, are we?” James teased and went to the small rolltop desk where he kept his business papers.

“I was just thinking,” Carolina said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “how Victoria is happy with what she has because she’s set her sights so low.”

James stopped what he was doing and looked at her hard. “That’s not a very gallant thing to say. Do you mean to suggest that her desires to marry and keep house for the man she loves is less than admirable? That is the normal expectation of most women, you know.”

Carolina felt slapped by his words. “It’s just that there’s a whole world out there.”

“A world she doesn’t want if it means having it without Kiernan O’Connor.” James came to stand in front of her. “Carolina, I’m rather surprised by your attitude. Are you that unhappy here?”

“No!” she declared defensively. “It’s not that.” She paused and looked down at the floor. “Not truly. I don’t know why I feel this way. Just when I think I have an understanding of my feelings, it flees me and I find myself as confused as ever. I pray, seek the Scriptures, and ask God for direction, and while I know I’m doing the job set out for me, I can’t help but feel—” She fell silent.

“Feel what?” asked James.

Just then Miriam knocked on the door. “Miz Carolina, I gots the mail and this here done come for you.” She extended a letter and smiled. “It’s from Oakbridge.”

Carolina took the missive and smiled. “Thank you, Miriam.” She waited until the woman left before breaking the seal to read the contents. With the very first line, she felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh no.” She glanced up at her husband.

“What is it?” James asked, reaching for the letter.

“Papa has been hurt. The doctor says it’s serious enough to call for the family.”

James read the remainder of the letter aloud.

“ ‘The slaves revolted two nights ago. Your father was a week in Washington, and during his absence, Hampton acted most unreasonably. He made impossible demands on the slaves and took to beating several of them on a daily basis. His nocturnal abuse of the young women became evident, and when I confronted him about it, he accused me of lunacy. I sent word to your father, and, of course, he returned home. But by then it was too late. Hampton had already stirred the fires of hatred to a raging inferno. His behavior alone can be blamed for the revolt. Your father tried to ease the tensions, but even as he tried to speak, one of the slaves lashed out—I’m certain Hampton had been his target, but your father was struck instead and rendered unconscious.

‘Oh, my dear daughter, you are needed here at my side. I cannot bear this thing alone. I have sent for York and Georgia, but, of course, Maine is too far away to reach. I pray you will come see your father. The doctor does not hold much hope for him at this point.’ ”

James handed her back the letter. “Of course you must go. I’ll make immediate arrangements. Thank God the railroad is in place. You can be to Oakbridge in sight of three days.”

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