The Journey of Josephine Cain (16 page)

Josephine knew they were getting a show, and she didn’t mind one whit. Watching the railroad men fully synchronized as they lay eight hundred feet of track in a mere thirty minutes was exhilarating.

Of course there was one worker who caught her eye more than the others.

Mr. Maguire . . . the way he swung the hammer in a wide arc, over and over and over, with power yet also with grace. There was a rhythm to the work that mesmerized both visually and audibly.

Lewis sidled up beside her. “I’d like to say that I could do that, but I’m not sure I could.”

She was positive he
couldn’t
. Lewis was not a man of muscle, but of mind.

Which wasn’t a bad thing.

Necessarily.

Lewis hadn’t been this nervous since he’d joined the Union army—for the second time. Of course it didn’t help that Josephine’s father was a general—
the
general who had ruined his life. Men like Lewis didn’t feel comfortable with Union officers.

He waited until the general was finished talking to General Dodge.

Two generals. Great. Luckily, Dodge moved on.

“Mr. Simmons,” General Cain said upon seeing him. “Have you enjoyed the excursion?”

“Greatly, sir. I’m very impressed with all the progress you’ve made.”

“Not just me,” he said, stretching an arm toward the track. “The workers are the ones who break their backs to accomplish the dream and build our common destiny.”

“You are very gracious.” Lewis thought the general’s penchant for speaking in such lofty terms as
dreams
and
destiny
was overblown. He really doubted the men who
were
breaking their backs were thinking too much about
dreams
except in reference to getting a good night’s sleep, and
destiny
beyond getting their next paycheck.

But who was he to have an opinion about that? He had his own
dreams and his own destiny, and they both involved the general and his daughter. Possess the one in order to harm the other.

A man was walking toward them, which meant Lewis’s time was short. “If I may be so bold, sir . . . one reason I wanted to accompany your daughter out west was so I had the opportunity of speaking to you in person about . . . in regard to . . .”

“Do you wish to marry my Josephine, Mr. Simmons?”

Lewis drew in a breath and let it out. “Yes, sir.”

“Do you have good assurance that she will accept your proposal?”

Not yet
. “I hope to. Actually, I don’t have an exact plan about when I might ask her, but I wanted to make sure I had your blessing when the time does present itself.”

The man who’d approached now stood a dozen feet away, awaiting his turn.

“We have not yet met your family, Lewis.”

You’ve met my father
. “My mother has passed, but my father lives in New York. He is very busy working with the Commodore to rebuild the steamer business. Those pesky Confederate blockade-runners during the war, using a Northern invention for ill-gotten gain . . .” Lewis smiled inwardly, for his family had benefited from that gain. “Father has given me this time away to nourish my passion, my art.”

“So he approves of it?”

Lewis nodded. “My mother was my patron, and my father wishes to respect her memory.”

“Ah.”

“I do know the steamer business, sir. And if my art does not prove of benefit financially, I am prepared to rejoin my father in his work.” Lewis sensed that he was beginning to sound too eager, and he moderated his tone. “You are in the business of railroads, and my family is in the business of waterways. Both modes of transportation are needed for trade and profit, don’t you think?”

“Of course.” The general stroked his chin. “I do appreciate your family’s roots and high connections. I would not have allowed you to court my daughter had I not approved or felt assured that if your relationship
ripened, Josephine would be able to live in the manner to which she is accustomed.”

“As expected, sir.”

“How is your art doing—as far as providing a living?” the general asked.

“Very well,” Lewis lied. “I have the highest hopes.”
That
wasn’t a lie.

“Then I give you my blessing.” He raised a finger. “But the final decision will be Josephine’s. She is a woman who knows her own mind.”

Don’t I know it
.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your trust.”

The excursion was leaving.

Miss Josephine Cain was leaving.

Hudson leaned on his spike maul and watched as she made tearful good-byes to her father. All this way, to see each other a few hours.

You’d travel that far to see your loved ones for a few hours
.

The image of Sarah Ann and his parents flitted through his mind but didn’t linger. He couldn’t go back to Pennsylvania and visit yet. His place was here with the railroad, undertaking the work that would assure his future. Their future.

His thoughts traveled from Pennsylvania to Nebraska as he saw Miss Cain leave her father’s side and walk toward him.

Raleigh nudged him in the side. “Uh-oh. Here she comes.”

There was a chorus of hoots as the other workers realized that her destination was Hudson.

He left Raleigh’s side to meet her halfway. “Are you ready to leave, Miss Cain?”

“No, I am not. But I have no choice.” She looked at her father longingly. “I miss him already.”

“He misses you too.”

She nodded once. “I told him how good you were to me, how you gave me special attention and made sure my journey was a good one.”

“I didn’t do that much,” he said.

She looked him squarely in the eyes. “You did more than you know.”
She rested her gloved fingers on his arm. “I shall never forget the prairie sunset, Mr. Maguire.” She pointed to her temple. “It is etched in my memory forever.”

He touched his own temple. “As it is in mine.”

She sighed, and he sensed there was more she wanted to say.

There was more
he
wanted to say, yet the feelings were hard to form into words. “I—I hope we can meet again, Miss Cain. Perhaps you can visit a second time.”

Her eyes lit up. “I . . . Perhaps I can.” She looked back at her father. “Though I doubt it.” She offered him a brave smile. “May God keep you safe, Mr. Maguire.”

“And you, Miss Cain.”

With that, she left him.

Tonight’s my chance
.

Fireworks on the prairie. What could be more romantic? If only Lewis could get rid of Frieda for just a few minutes.

This trip wasn’t working out as well as he’d hoped. He wasn’t being accepted as a member of the elite set that populated the junket, and he wasn’t making romantic inroads with Josephine. He’d thought they would grow closer on the long journey. He’d thought they’d be on kissing terms by now.

But every time he thought the time might be right, Frieda was there, or one of the other passengers. Or Josephine popped out of her seat, wanting to see something out of a window on the other side of the train. They had not enjoyed a single minute alone.

He tried to think of diversionary tactics—like tying her in her tent—but in regard to non-forceful means, his mind was blank. As the dinner ended, and the group moved their chairs to the edge of an open field, he decided that perhaps the direct approach was the only way.

As Frieda finished the last of her dessert pastry, Lewis whispered in Josephine’s ear. “Can you come with me a moment?”

She looked at him curiously. “Of course.” She left Frieda and followed Lewis. “Is something wrong?”

It was the opening he needed. “Actually . . . yes. During this entire excursion I’ve longed to spend time alone with you.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“It’s been special to experience all this with you. In fact, I can’t imagine experiencing it with anyone else.”

She touched his arm. “Thank you, Lewis. I agree.”

“So . . . I was thinking that perhaps tonight, during the fireworks, we could sit together, perhaps away from the rest? If that would be agreeable to you?”

Her smile offered him relief. “That would be very nice.” She looked to the west. The sun was just beginning to set. “Perhaps you’d like to . . .”

“Like to what?”

“Never mind.” She turned her back to the sunset and gave him a smile. “Until later then.”

He couldn’t wait.

As it grew dark and the fireworks were imminent, Josephine saw Lewis beckoning her toward a chair slightly apart from the others.

Frieda was on immediate alert. “Where are you going, Josephine? It’s dark.”

She suffered a sigh. “I am off to California to pan for gold.” Then she flashed Frieda an impatient look. “I am going to sit with Lewis to watch the fireworks display. Right over there, not twenty yards from your prying eyes.”

“Prying? You’re going to give me reason to pry?”

“Yes. So leave us alone.”

Frieda opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. What could she say? Josephine and Lewis had traveled hundreds of miles together, and he hadn’t even tried to kiss her.

Had she wanted him to kiss her?

Absolutely.

That wasn’t completely true. During the journey from Washington to Columbus, she had longed for a bit of romance from Lewis, yet since then . . .

Since Hudson Maguire . . .

Since saying good-bye to the latter, she had suffered a mental and emotional war. There was no doubt she was attracted to Hudson—what female wouldn’t be? He was a virile, striking, thoughtful man. But beyond the attraction, she had to be practical. It did her no good to think of him. He was heading west and she was heading east. They would never see each other again.

Adding a lock to that door were Papa’s comments when they had said good-bye. “I see you and Lewis are still close. Yes?”

“Do you want us to be close?”

“I am agreeable to it. If you are.”

With Papa supporting her courtship with Lewis . . . she had to think of the future. She would be twenty-one at the end of February. It was time to marry.

There was no time for silly daydreams about Hudson Maguire.

Frieda interrupted her memories. “After the fireworks, two men are going to read the bumps on our heads. They are phrenigists.”

Josephine had heard of such people and understood that most presented the readings with a good dose of humor. “Phrenologists.”