The Journey of Josephine Cain (15 page)

“How do you know that?”

“I was out looking at the sunset and met her.”

“She was walking in the dark?”

“It wasn’t dark yet.” He thought a moment, then added, “She seemed to really like it.”

“Just remember
you
didn’t make the sunset, brother.”

“I never suggested—”

“Don’t you have a letter to write to Sarah Ann or something?”

Hudson didn’t like the implication. “Can’t I talk to a girl without you accusing me of something. . . .”

“Inappropriate?”

“I was not inappropriate. I would never be, never do—”

“Glad to hear it,” Raleigh said, putting his hands in his pockets.

But as they ended the discussion, Hudson had to force himself to look elsewhere.

Anywhere but at Miss Josephine Cain.

“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.

“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.