The Journey of Josephine Cain (31 page)

But then Smith had bragged about the scheme to the wrong person, and the man had turned him in. He’d gone to his death, arrogant to the last, the soldiers shooting him then mutilating his dead body with gun blasts.

It could have been me
.

Lewis felt fairly certain that it
would
have been him eventually, had he not headed south. After two weeks of hiding out in haystacks and caves, he’d found his parents in North Carolina. There he’d joined his father’s blockade running, working for the Confederacy. They ran their steamships—which had been painted gray to match the water—into Southern ports at night, sliding around the Union blockades. And his father had done more than that, spying for the South while feigning loyalty to the North. The situation was risky and complicated, but when it came down to it, Lewis hadn’t really cared who won the war. A wise man made good use of his circumstances.

He had especially enjoyed the trips to the stunning island of Bermuda, where they stored the goods, until he and some fellow sailors brought yellow fever back to Wilmington. His mother had nursed him to health, but then she’d caught the sickness and died of it. He hadn’t lied to Josephine about her death, though he hadn’t mentioned that a third of the population of the city had also died from a disease he’d brought home with him.

He might as well have died too, for all the guilt he felt about it. But it wasn’t all his fault. If his father hadn’t gotten Lewis involved in the blockade running, none of it would have happened. Unexpectedly, his father accepted the blame. He was never quite the same after his wife died, which made him careless. He made mistakes.

And got caught.

When Lewis heard of his father’s arrest, he’d rushed to the jail where his father was held. But he’d been too late to help him.

Lewis pressed his hands against his eyes to rid his mind of the most horrendous memory—that of a certain general giving the order to have his father hanged as a spy. With one nod, the hangman had pushed his father off the gallows. The snap of his neck was forever embedded in
Lewis’s mind. As was the sight of his body twitching and gyrating until it was still.

That accomplished, General Reginald Cain had simply turned and walked away, as if the hanging had meant nothing. As if the death of Lewis’s father was just another task for the day.

With both parents dead, Lewis had gone underground until the end of the war, only bringing with him a few mementos of his life
before
. He’d ended up in Washington. Working at Ford’s Theatre the night Lincoln was shot marked a turning point for him, for his illustration of the event had brought recognition of his talent and the possibility of a new profession. And then finding out that General Cain lived in the city and had a pretty daughter . . .

That was when he’d decided to stay. He’d found work at the butcher shop to support himself while he devised his plans.

Without Mr. Connelly, I’d be on the streets. He saved me
.

He sat upright.
Like Josephine saved Nelly
.

With a start Lewis recognized the parallel acts of kindness, yet he couldn’t move past another fact: he had needing saving just as much as Nelly had.

They were both victims of bad circumstances.

Lewis pulled in a breath. “I am not like Nelly. I’m not. I’ve risen above my past.”

To prove it, he pushed Nelly out of his mind and headed back to town.

Hudson tied his saddlebag shut. “That’s it then.”

Raleigh sat on his bed and pulled on his boots. “When will you be back?”

He hadn’t really thought about it. “I suppose I could turn around and come back right away. My job is to see the ladies home. That’s it.”

Raleigh stood. “You
could
stop in Pennsylvania. See the folks and Ezra. See Sarah Ann.”

He hadn’t thought of that. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “I suppose I could.”

“Your enthusiasm is unconvincing.”

Hudson glared at his younger brother.

“If you ask me—”

“I’m not asking you.”

Raleigh began again. “If you ask me, it would be the perfect time to get in good with Sarah Ann again.”

“She’s the one who has stopped writing.”

“Then see what’s what. You can’t chase after a second woman when you haven’t let go of the first.”

Hudson took his coat off the peg. “I’m not chasing after anyone.”

“Only because you don’t have to. The general’s making it easy for you.”

“He asked me to do him a favor.”

“Convenient favor.”

Hudson put on his coat and brushed some dust from his hat. “Take care of yourself, brother. And behave.”

“You’re the one who needs to be told to behave.”

“I have been—and will continue to be—the perfect gentleman.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Fun or not, it’s who I am.”

“You’re a lovesick fool.”

“I’m no fool.”

“You’re acting like one. You can fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. You’re in love with that girl. It’s probably best you admit it.”

But he didn’t want to admit it. Not to Raleigh, and not to himself.

“She’s engaged to Simmons.”

“Then why isn’t he taking her home?”

“None of our business.”

“Right.”

“Don’t read something into it that—”

Raleigh walked away, shaking his head. “Foolish
and
blind. That’s quite a combination, brother.”

Josephine wrapped her arms around her father’s waist. “I hate to leave you.”

“I hate to see you leave,” he said. “But it’s for the best—for Nelly’s
best, and for your own. I am going to be incredibly busy starting today. I barely have time to say good-bye.”

She hugged him all the tighter. “When will I see you again?”

He gently pushed her back and looked into her eyes. “It may be awhile, sweet girl. You have other responsibilities now, and we’re heading over the mountains. We both have our work to do.”

She fingered the buttons of his coat. “I never meant to be tied down like this. I—”

He tipped her chin upward, and none too gently. “You took that girl away from the life she knew, which makes it your responsibility to give her a better life. And don’t go pawning her off on your mother or aunt either.”

As if they would take her
.

“But I’m too young to be the mother of a ten-year-old.”

“Then be her big sister.”

She saw Lewis running toward them. He was the last person she wanted to see.

“Josephine,” he said, gasping for air. “I’m so glad I caught up with you before you left.”

“Lewis, please . . .” She suddenly thought of Hudson getting settled in the car with Frieda and Nelly.
Please don’t show yourself. Please don’t let Lewis see you
.

“Good-bye, Lewis,” she told him with as much firmness in her voice as she could muster.

“But, Josephine . . .”

Papa put an arm around Josephine’s shoulders and led her toward the train that would take her east. Once on board, he gave her a final kiss. “I love you, daughter.”

“I love you too.”

He stepped back and made an arm gesture to the locomotive. The whistle sounded and the train began to move away. Josephine rushed to the window to wave.

Papa waved back, blowing her a kiss.

Lewis waved too.

But then the others waved their own good-byes.

Too late, Josephine realized that Lewis would see Hudson waving and—

She yanked his arm down. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because Lewis doesn’t know you’re the one taking us home.”

Hudson headed toward the door of the railcar. He opened it and stepped onto the platform.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t have to be here. I can still jump down.”

“No! Don’t.”

“Why not?”

The train was gaining speed. She had to say it. “I want you here.”

“Do you?”

She put her hand on his arm. “I do.”

He turned toward her, and on the narrow landing, he touched her waist. “I want to be here too.”

Josephine felt a tingle at his touch. But then she spotted Lewis, watching them go.

Although she was glad she had ended it with him, although she was glad to have Hudson as their escort home, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

With a silent prayer that God would watch over him, she turned toward the railcar and went inside, letting the distance between them widen.

“Are you all right?” Hudson asked.

“I will be.”

But when Josephine took one last look through the glass of the door, Lewis was gone.

As if he were never there.

Lewis pointed to the train as it pulled away. “Maguire?” He turned to the general. “What is Maguire doing on that train?”

The general walked in the direction of the railway office. “I asked him to go.”

“With them? With your daughter?”

“And Frieda and Nelly.”

Lewis had to rush to catch up with the general’s long strides. “But what about me?”

The general suddenly stopped and faced him. “What about you, Mr. Simmons?”

He was taken aback. “She’s my fiancée.”

The general shrugged. Shrugged! “Has she spoken with you?”

Lewis played dumb. “About . . . ?”

“The truth of it, Mr. Simmons, is that I want my daughter to marry a man of courage and honor, and I am not sure you are that man.”

This wasn’t happening. He’d hoped he still had favor with the general. It was his only chance. “I am that man. What have I done to make you say such a thing?”

The general’s right eyebrow rose, and he began ticking off points on his fingers. “Number one, you let my daughter and Mrs. Schultz run after a thief in Chicago.”

“She told you about that?”

“Number two, during the shooting in front of the gambling hall, you hid in the store, leaving the women open to fire.”

“I—I don’t like shooting.”

The general leaned closer. “And I do?” He eyed Lewis. “There’s no shame in being afraid. Self-preservation makes us all want to run the other way. But thinking only of yourself? That’s unforgiveable—especially where my daughter is concerned.”

He began walking again, and Lewis hurried after him. “So
you’re
saying our engagement is off?”

“That’s up to my daughter.” They reached the rail office. The general went in and closed the door, leaving Lewis outside.

Flummoxed. And seething.

It was all Hudson Maguire’s fault.

And the general’s.

He’d make sure both paid for their sins against him.

Josephine watched Nelly gripping the windowsill of the railcar, hunkered low so her chin rested on her hands.

“Is she scared or sad?” she whispered to Frieda. “She’s been like that since we left.”

Frieda took out her bag of knitting. “Maybe it’s because she hasn’t been on a train before. She came west on a wagon.”

Suddenly, Nelly left her perch and pointed. “What’s that?”

They all moved to the windows. For as far as they could see, hundreds of small mounds dotted the land like smallpox. And out of the mounds popped small tan animals. Many stood erect on their back legs and others scurried from one hole to the other.

“That’s a prairie dog colony,” Hudson said. “They dig elaborate tunnels connecting their underground homes.”