Angel Train (20 page)

“I found something else, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“What is it, York?”

“You remember the doctor’s office?”

“Yes, of course. Dr. Jamison.”

“Yes. Well, Mr. Davis owns that building. It’s big for one thing, but there are living quarters upstairs and downstairs. My thought is that you can live upstairs with David, Ben, and Rose, and I’ll take the downstairs quarters. That way we could do what I said. You could help me with my practice, take care of the children, and we could make it fine.”

“Would you really like it, York?”

“I would indeed. Is it a bargain then?” he asked eagerly.

“I think that would be wonderful. I need to be of use to somebody, and taking care of David is a good thing for me.”

“Well, you’ll be taking care of me too. I’m hoping we’ll take our meals together. There’s a fine kitchen. It could be a good way to live.”

A secret thought occurred to her, but York couldn’t read her feelings. At the moment he felt he had come into a safe harbor. He had dreaded trying to raise a baby alone and dreaded the thought of finding another housekeeper and nurse who might be unsuitable. He put his hand out and she took it.

“All right, it’s a bargain then.”

“I’m glad, York. I felt so lost and lonely, but I’ve felt that way a long time.”

“Well, you won’t be lost anymore. Come along. Let me show you where we’ll be living.”

* * *

TREMAYNE HAD GONE RIDING over some of the territory and had wound up at Stefan Krisova’s claim. He saw the Gypsy wagon and horses behind a stream that intersected the property.

He stepped down, and Stefan met him with a smile. “Well, you’ve come to see our new home.”

“Fine-looking claim, Stefan. Do you like it, Zamora?”

“Yes, it’s nice.” A sadness lay over the girl, and Tremayne knew that it was the loss of her grandmother. “I’ll stay here. No more wandering Gypsy for me.”

“You won’t be alone long. I expect you’ll have lots of men coming to court you.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled and her eyes brightened. “Where are you going, Casey?”

“I’m going to pick Charity up and take her to see my claim.”

“Where is it?” she asked.

“Over there toward the river. We’ll start building cabins pretty soon. We’ll all pitch in and help. You better be finding yourself a good spot.”

“I’ve already got it picked out,” Zamora said. “Right over there in the middle of those trees.”

“She’s bossy, isn’t she?” Stefan said. “But that is a good place. I’ve got to build corrals for these horses before we do anything.”

“Plenty of good sturdy wood here. There’s something called ironwood. It lasts like iron. I’ve seen some here. I’ll show you when I come back.”

“Thanks, Casey.”

Tremayne nodded to them, stepped into the saddle, and rode on to the Morgan claim. He found the Morgans all busy, but he asked, “Would you like to go see where I’m going to put my sawmill, Charity?”

“Yes, I would. Let me get my horse.”

Tremayne saddled her mare, and the two of them rode out. There was a happiness now in Charity, or a freedom, he hadn’t noticed before. It was a long ride, nearly an hour and a half, and finally when they came to the spot Tremayne had found, he pushed his hat back and said, “Well, there she is. What do you think?”

He didn’t look at the scene before him but at her face. He saw her taking in the sight of the river that lay at the bottom of a steep slope. “Your place goes all the way to the river?”

“Yes. Look at this timber behind and surrounding it. All kinds of cedar. The best thing you can find for shakes. A good market for it always. Doesn’t take much of a mill either, so I can get started quickly.”

The two walked over the property; thick timber rose up to a sharp rim two thousand feet above. Long meadows lay between, good for raising hay, he informed her. And there was a high-frame, half-log house, which someone had built and then left. It wasn’t a spot for the mill, but he wasn’t sure that a woman would ever like it.

“Lonely, I think, around here,” he said.

“It’s a beautiful place, Casey.”

She faced him, and he saw that her face was a mirror that changed with her feelings. Her smile revealed pleasure. Tremayne thought,
She’s got a beautifully fashioned face— graceful—more so than any woman’s I’ve ever seen.
A small dimple appeared at the left side of her mouth. A light danced in her eyes.

“You’ll be a hermit out here,” she said.

“Not for long. People will be coming to pick up shakes. There’ll be a road coming right by here sooner or later. In the
meanwhile, I could take the shakes down to the river. Boats can pick them up.”

She listened and watched the excitement in his face. She knew he was a man who would be good and honest although he’d wasted a great deal of his life. She sensed his subdued capacity for terrific gusts of feelings. As he spoke, she took in his intent eyes, high cheekbones, the minute weathered lines at the corners of his eyes, and his smooth and bronzed skin. She noticed that he was looking at her, and, indeed, he was.

Tremayne suddenly reached forward and put his hand on her arm. A silence fell on them, but she showed him a glance, half-startled, and a quicker breath stirred her breast. Her eyes widened, and color came to her cheeks. She leaned toward him, and he drew her forward. Her hand uncertainly touched his shoulder, and he brought her to him with a quick sweep of his arm. When he kissed her and felt a gentle hunger in her lips, he knew she would have this power over him, a way of lifting him to a height. He felt vague hints of a glory that a man and woman could know. When she stepped back, her glance gave him hope.

“I’m tired of wandering,” he murmured. “I want to put roots down in this place, and I want to do it with you.”

During a powerful, poignant silence, he saw thoughts go through her mind by the look in her eyes. He waited hopefully for her to speak.

“You will put roots down, Casey.”

“Will it be with you?”

She hesitated, and he saw an impulse in her, and for one brief moment thought with a sudden gust of joy she was going to say yes. But she didn’t.

“We’ll have to see,” she said.

He didn’t argue, for he knew what lay between them was the matter of God.

“We’ll see,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve come this far and found you for nothing. Come along. I’ll take you back to your claim.”

All THROUGH SEPTEMBER OF 1855, the building of cabins went on. It was a tiring business, but the men had become specialists. They had learned to cut the proper-sized trees. One crew trimmed them, and another crew hauled them to the cabin sites.

Raising the cabin was a quick affair. All the men would arrive and start early in the morning. The best of the axmen made the notches, and it was amazing how only by sight they could place the notches so the logs slipped nearly into the joints. When the walls grew too high to lift the logs, they were rolled up on two smaller trees that made a ramp.

All the cabins were the same, with one door and one window. This would be a temporary place to live. Later, these cabins would become a storehouse or a small room added to the main house. There were no floors except for the hard-packed earth, and the final shakes were made of split cedar. For the roof a crew first laid small saplings across the opening, then nailed boards to these. The chimneys were primitive, for the most part, made of mud and sticks with a minimum of stone.

When November came and the weather was growing cold, all the cabins were built and occupied. It was too late to plant, but There was plenty to do, for the land had to be cleared for crops. This was hard, grueling labor. The stumps were simply left in place, and for the first year those tilling the land would simply plow around them. Later, they would learn to build fires and burn them until the fields were perfectly cleared.

When the last of the cabins was finished, the members of the Pilgrim Way met for a time of Thanksgiving. Everyone came, and the hunters had been busy bringing in deer, squirrel, coons, and wild turkeys. They were thankful, and during the service Gwilym conducted there was special mention of those buried along the Oregon Trail—people who had begun the journey but had not finished it.

“We’re here now in Oregon,” Gwilym said, “and life continues. But as Tremayne has often remarked, the land is not really free. It has to be paid for in sweat, grueling labor, and dangers.”

* * *

A WEEK AFTER THE Thanksgiving celebration Elsworth Charterhouse was at loose ends. He was not a farmer and knew he would never be successful at raising livestock; his only knowledge was of fast horses, which he knew well. He had helped with the cabin raising, doing what he could, and had become good at splitting shakes, the extent of his carpentry skills. After the cabins were completed, he felt alone. Tremayne was putting his mill together, going to distant towns to get the blades, pulleys, and various parts, so their companionship grew
dim. He visited several of the settlers, but except for Dr. York Wingate and Marzina Cole, he had no close friends.

York and Marzina had invited him to eat with them several times, and one cold Wednesday evening he arrived at the doctor’s office. It was empty of patients for it was late, and York met him at the door smiling, “Come on in, Elsworth. We’ve got a treat for you.”

“Something to eat?”

“Not exactly. Come on back.” He led Elsworth through the offices—two large rooms and a reception room—opened the door, and passed into the living quarters. This consisted of one very large room with a kitchen, table, and various pieces of furniture. The other room was a bedroom.

Elsworth halted abruptly when he saw a woman in the room, and he took her in in one swift glance. She was not tall but extremely well formed. She had a wealth of light brown hair and warm, brown eyes. Her dress was more stylish than most he had seen here in Oregon; green silk seemed to change colors as she moved under the lamplight. He saw streaks of gold thread on the bodice and sleeves of her dress. Jade earrings moved slightly as her head turned, and she was watching him with a slight smile.

“Miss Russom, may I present Elsworth Charterhouse, a countryman of yours. Elsworth, this is Miss Emily Russom.”

“I’m happy to know you, Miss Russom.”

“And I you, Mr. Charterhouse. What part of England are you from?”

“From the southern coast. Hastings was my birthplace, and I grew up very close by. And you?”

“Cornwall.”

“I know it well. A beautiful spot. They say that that’s where King Arthur had his Round Table. I don’t suppose you ever saw any knights there?”

Her smile came quickly. “No, I didn’t, but it’s rather a wild place, and I miss those towering cliffs and the ocean.”

“Miss Russom is our schoolteacher,” Marzina said.

“I’ll have to watch my grammar then.”

“I doubt that,” Miss Russom said.

“Did you come over here to teach school?”

“No, I didn’t. I was engaged to marry a man, and we were going to become missionaries to the Indians here in the West. He came first, and a year later I sailed to be with him. We were to be married, but when I arrived, I found he had died of cholera.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was a very hard time for me.”

“Here, come and sit, you two,” York said, “while I help Marzina with the meal.” He drew the two to the fireplace, and they each took a chair.

Elsworth asked, “How do you like it here in this country? Quite different from Cornwall.”

“Altogether different. There’s a real wildness here. The forests—mile after mile after mile of nothing but trees. Nothing like that in England, not anymore.”

“I suppose there was once. I’m at loose ends myself.”

“I understand you came in the wagon train with the group called the Pilgrim Way. I was very interested in that.”

“They’re interesting people. I was not a part of their original group.”

“Oh, what did you do before you came?”

Elsworth thought for a moment, and then he spread his hands in a gesture of futility, “Well, murder will out and so will truth. I was in prison.”

His announcement caused the woman to open her eyes wide. “Really? Why were you there?”

“Well, the charge was embezzlement. I went into partnership with a man, and I had a fiancée. The two of them took the money and ran, and I was left to answer for it.”

“That must have been very hard.”

“It wasn’t easy, but I’m glad to say I was fortunate enough to be set free.”

“How did that come about?” she asked.

Elsworth told her of the need to have inmates take the people over the trail to Oregon, and he ended by saying, “I really was not a candidate, but the fellow who led us all, his name is Casey Tremayne. We became friends in prison, and he dragged me along. I’m afraid I was mostly dead weight.”

“No, that’s not so. You’ve become a real pioneer,” Wingate commented. “You two come now. Marzina’s a wonderful cook. I’m actually getting fat. Here, you sit here, Miss Russom, and you over there, Elsworth.”

“Really, Emily is my name, so unless you’re in my classroom, in a situation like this I’d prefer it.”

“I always liked that name—Emily,” Elsworth said. “It was my grandmother’s name.”

“Where is your family in England?”

“Still in Hastings.”

They all seated themselves, and there was an awkward silence, and then York said, “I’m afraid we ask the blessing.”

“Quite all right,” Emily smiled. “I like that very much.” They bowed their heads, and York pronounced a quick blessing.

Then Marzina said, “It’s so good to have real food again. Cooking over a campfire for two thousand miles became quite a chore.”

They began to eat, and Elsworth found his interest completely taken by Emily Russom. They kept asking each other questions: “Have you ever been in Dover?” “Have you been to the Lake Country?” Both of them were hungry for memories that linked them.

“Is your family in business in England?” Emily asked.

For a moment Elsworth hesitated, “Actually not. My father is the Earl of Chatworth.”

Everyone suddenly looked at him. “I didn’t know that!” York exclaimed. “Will you be the earl when he dies?”

“I suppose so. I have an older brother, but his health is very bad. It doesn’t mean much. My family is one of the impoverished nobility. They have the title and some land and what used to be a castle, but now it’s mostly memories.”

“What will I call you?” Marzina smiled. “My Lord?”

“You’ll call me Elsworth as you always have. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

The meal continued pleasantly, and afterward they played cards. It was Emily who said, “It’s getting late. I’ll have a room full of noisy, rowdy students tomorrow, all determined to remain unchanged.”

They rose to go, and Elsworth said quickly, “Do you live near here?”

“Oh, it’s not too far.”

“Well, allow me to escort you home.”

“That would be nice.”

The two took their leave. It was cold, and when they reached her door, she turned and put out her hand. “It’s been so nice to meet you.”

“Yes, it has. It has been a good meeting. I get lonesome here. I’m, more or less, useless,” he said.

“I felt the same way when I came. My purpose was gone.”

“Do you suppose we could get together for a meal at the café and talk about England and things like that?”

She smiled, and Elsworth had warm feelings about this woman. All men, even the roughest kind, perhaps, had a picture in their hearts, fashioned by their desires, of the ideal woman. He was aware that few men ever found their ideal in reality, but it was one of the shocks of his life that this woman fit his lifelong dream of what a woman should be. He had never married, and although he had known women, none of them had formed any kind of an attachment with him. He had felt himself out of the mainstream of courtship.

Now as Emily Russom smiled at him, and he was holding her hand, he sensed that her vitality affected him powerfully. It fanned his inner hungers, which had been latent for many years and which he had learned to ignore. He felt like a very young man meeting a sweetheart for the first time, and it was a strange thing for him.

“Would tomorrow be too soon? he asked. I don’t want to rush you, but I do get lonely.”

“Tomorrow would be fine. Why don’t you come to my schoolroom tomorrow? You could talk to my students about England. They’ve heard almost all I’ve had to say.”

“Well, I’ll be glad to do that, although I don’t know that I could add much.”

“It will be a break for them. Come about ten o’clock in the morning.”

“I’ll be there. Good night, Emily.”

“Good night, Elsworth.”

He turned away, and as he walked back to his room in the hotel, he felt alive in a way he hadn’t before, and he knew he would sleep little that night, for the woman brought an excitement he thought had escaped him.

* * *

TWO WEEKS LATER ELSWORTH counted the times he’d had supper with Emily—four times, twice in the hotel dining room and twice with the doctor and Marzina. He recounted each moment, and he felt like a fool. “I’m like a schoolboy,” he muttered as he walked along the street. “It’s like something out of those awful romances some people write.” He shook his head wondering at his own foolishness and stopped at the livery stable.

“I need to rent a buggy,” he said to Evan Smith.

“Where are you going, Mr. Charterhouse?”

“I’ve got to go over to a little town called Hemmings. I hope I don’t get lost.”

“Oh, that’s on the main road. What’s going on in Hemmings?”

“I’ve got to pick up two saw blades for Tremayne. He needs them for his mill, and he’s busy putting the thing together.”

“I’ve got just what you need.”

Twenty minutes later Elsworth was in the buggy, and he stopped at Emily’s boardinghouse. She was waiting for him, and he helped her inside. When he sat back down and took the lines, he said, “I’m glad you’re going with me. It would be a lonely trip otherwise. I hope they have a place to eat there.”

She had been pleased to be asked. Life was dreary in this place. Men had courted her, of course, but none of them were appealing. Most of them had been rough farmers or trap
pers, all men who still seemed very foreign to her. Elsworth Charterhouse was like a breath of fresh air for her. “How far is it?”

“About a three-hour ride. We can pick up something to eat, I’m sure, there and drive back.”

“It’s nice to be free of the schoolroom. I want to thank you again for coming. The students loved you,” she said.

“I think they were just anxious to get out of doing their arithmetic,” he grinned.

Emily’s laughter made a delightful sound. “Well, you may be right about that, but I enjoyed it.”

Later that day, after completing their errand, they were riding back to Oregon City.

“Well, we’ve had a successful trip. Got the saw blades, had a good meal, and now we’re headed home for another good meal.”

“We’re going to wear out our welcome at Wingate’s.”

“I think not. They seem to appreciate the company.”

“It’s sort of a strange relationship, isn’t it?”

“Well, as you know, she lost her husband. They weren’t very close, I’m afraid,” he said.

“Why is that?”

Elsworth shrugged. “As I understand it, she was rather forced by her father into marriage with a man not at all suitable.”

“How terrible. I can’t imagine such a thing.”

The two talked on, and the road made a turn. Suddenly Emily heard a whizzing sound, and Elsworth gave a cry and leaned over. She was horrified; the feathered end of an arrow protruded from his upper body. It had hit him high in the shoulder, and she whirled to see three Indians coming on horseback. One of them had a tomahawk, and the other two were
waiving spears. Quickly Emily grasped the lines and shouted, “Hup! Get up, boys!” The horses leaped against the harness and took off at a dead run. She could hear the yelps of the Indians.

“Are you hurt bad, Elsworth?” she cried.

“I don’t think so.” He straightened up and looked at the protruding arrowhead. “It went all the way through, but it’s so high I don’t think it hit anything vital. Can you drive these horses?”

“Yes, of course.”

Elsworth looked back and saw that the Indians’ horses were poor things, indeed, as were the Indians themselves. He couldn’t see much, but he pulled out the gun Tremayne had insisted he carry. He couldn’t hit much with it, but when he leveled the revolver and fired, one of the Indians jerked to one side. Whether it had hit him or simply come close, he didn’t know. He continued to fire, and one of the horses suddenly fell, evidently hard hit.