The Journey of Josephine Cain (38 page)

“That’s the only reason I’m not tearing my hair out.” She spread face cream on her cheeks. The subtle scent of vanilla always made her inhale deeply, wanting more. Then suddenly she remembered Nelly using some of the cream the day before, saying,
Vera and the ladies would love this
.

And it hit her. Hit her hard.

Josephine grabbed the jar of cream and spun around on the bench to face Frieda. “
This
is what we can do out west to make a living. We can sell your face cream to the women.”

“Sell? It’s not good enough to sell.”

“So it’s good enough for me, but not good enough for the Veras of the world, or the pioneer women?”

“Well . . . when you say it that way.”

Nelly climbed off the window seat where she had been reading. “The powder too. Remember the lavender-smelling powder.”

“I don’t make that,” Frieda said.

“But we could buy it and bring it with us to sell at a profit.” Josephine began to pace. “What other items would women buy from us?” She stopped at her dressing table and pointed from one item to another. “Perfume atomizers, powder puffs, brushes with pretty backs, combs—both functional and decorative, nice-smelling soaps, toothbrushes and powders, mirrors, hairpins, ribbon, lengths of lace . . .”

“Handkerchiefs,” Frieda added. “And maybe some collarettes or lace fichus that can fancy up even the dullest of dresses.”

“And shawls,” Nelly said. “Vera and the ladies like pretty shawls.”

Josephine’s mind swam with ideas. “Frieda, retrieve a paper and pencil and make a list.”

“Can we really do this?” Frieda asked as she looked through the desk. “We don’t know anything about selling.”

“Reticules!” Josephine added. “And parasols. Not as fancy as my peach one, but some that will keep the harsh sun off their faces. And
hats. Not just frivolous hats like the ones I wore, but hats that combine function with beauty.”

“Now we’re milliners?”

“We will be whatever we need to be.”

Frieda was furiously writing the list, which allowed Josephine a moment to ponder their lack of sales experience. “It wouldn’t have to be a real store—not at first,” Josephine said, working through the issue out loud. “We could have a store that travels like the saloons and gambling houses do.”

“And Miss Mandy’s,” Nelly said.

Josephine let the comment slide. “Eventually we can settle in a town that suits us, and wait for the trains to start running back and forth on a regular basis. Our business would grow. It’s inevitable.”

Frieda stopped writing. “If we do this . . . it means we
are
leaving here forever.”

Although they had all said as much the night before, those decisions had been born from frustration and the desperation to catch up with Hudson. But to have a plan and a purpose, to start something brand-new . . .

She was finally ready to answer. “Yes, it means we are leaving here forever.”

They shared a moment of silence. Then Nelly said, “Wow.”

Frieda and Josephine shared a look before bursting into laughter.

“What?” Nelly asked.

Josephine pulled the girl to her side. “You expressed the moment perfectly.”

Frieda was looking over the list. “I can make some more face cream, but where do we buy so many jars, and the other products?”

The overwhelming dilemma found an answer in two words. “Rachel Maddox.”

“Who’s she?” Nelly asked.

“My good friend, whose father owns Hanson Mercantile. He likes me and has known me my entire life. He will sell me the items at good prices, and if our store takes off, he might even connect me with his suppliers.”

“You’re confident,” Frieda said.

“Yes, I am.”

She had never felt so sure of anything in her life.

Josephine walked toward her mother’s room to check on her, but she met Audrey coming out. “How is she?”

“Fine as can be. Your mother recovers from illness faster than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Maybe because she was never sick in the first place
. Josephine kept her opinion to herself.

“You’re going out?” Audrey asked, looking past Josephine to Frieda, and Nelly carrying her hoop and stick.

“For a bit. If you have things attended to here . . .”

“She’s fine. Go on then.”

The coast made clear, Josephine hurried the others along just in case Mother decided to have another relapse.

The three females entered the park near the Maddox residence with the plan that Frieda and Nelly would spend time there while Josephine had a conversation with her friend about their store idea. Nelly wasted no time in racing down the sidewalk with her hoop. “You’d better hurry and catch her,” Josephine said to Frieda. “I will be back soon.”

She then turned toward the row of stately homes that edged the park, hoping that Rachel was home and available for an impromptu visit.

As she passed the house of the Maddoxes’ neighbor, the man of the house came outside. When he saw Josephine, he smiled a greeting. “Miss Cain. How wonderful to see you again.”

“Police Chief Brandon,” she said with a nod. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“I heard that you’ve had some adventures with trips out west.”

She wondered what the Washington grapevine had picked up about Nelly and Hudson’s presence here. “I have. It’s an exhilarating place.”

Oddly, he looked directly at her left hand. “Are you still engaged?”

Although she wasn’t, she didn’t want rumors to take flight. Remembering the ring she still had not removed, she offered proof by removing her glove and showing it to him. Let him draw his own conclusions.

But instead of offering the typical quick glance and smile, he did a double take. “May I see?” He examined it intently. “This is an emerald?” he asked.

“I believe it is.”

“If I may?” he asked, clearly wanting to take her hand. When she nodded, he tipped her hand this way and that, making her uneasy. “It is a very intricate setting.”

“Yes, it is.” She pulled her hand away.

With a blink, he moved his attention from her hand to her face. “What is the name of the lucky man again?”

Oh dear. Yet she couldn’t backtrack now. “Lewis Simmons.”

He nodded once, then tipped his hat and bid her good day.

The exchange was a bit strange, but she pushed the thoughts aside for another time. The task at hand pressed her toward the Maddox home. The butler answered the knock and informed her that Rachel was available for a visit.

She stepped inside and said a prayer.

Josephine flew out the door of Rachel’s home. She found Frieda and Nelly on the far end of the park, sitting in the grass, looking for four-leaf clovers. When Nelly saw her, she came running. “Look! Frieda says it’s good luck.”

Josephine rolled the stem of the clover between her fingers. “Indeed, for I have just had some very good luck.”

Frieda held out her hand, wanting assistance to stand. When she was stable and her dress brushed smooth, Josephine continued. “Rachel thinks our store is a wonderful idea and is certain her father will help in whatever way he can.”

“How marvelous.”

“She is going to his office right now to ask him whether we might purchase goods at a discount—she mentioned twenty-five percent.”

“That would be very generous.”

“It gives us twenty-five percent profit when we sell the items.”

“Yet we
could
charge more than the regular price,” Frieda said. “Western goods are costly.”

“I will consider it,” Josephine said. “Yet I want to provide a service to western women as well as make a profit. I’m sure there is a middle ground.” She held out her hand to Nelly. “But all that is for another day. Let us return home and wait for Rachel to contact us.”

“Then what?”

“Then, we go shopping.”

“I’ve never really been shopping,” Nelly said. “I’d go look at the stuff in Mr. Benton’s store, but I never had any money.”

“But didn’t you earn . . . ?” Josephine couldn’t take the question any further.

Nelly shook her head. “Miss Mandy said room and board was my pay.”

Josephine couldn’t even think about it. She put her arm around Nelly, and they strode down the street. “Then shopping will be a special treat. For soon we are going to buy out the store in order to create our own.”

Hudson sat on the floor, fixing a chair leg.

Mum stood next to him. “’Tis so nice to have you here, boy. I am ever so glad ye feel better, and I mightily appreciate yer help. Your da never has time for repairin’ things.”

“Ezra could help.”

“I’m supposin’ he could.” She pointed toward the bedroom. “After you be done fixing that chair, could ye hang another shelf?”

Why not?

He heard voices outside and feet on the stairs. Mum rushed to the pot of soup on the potbellied stove. “Never you mind,” she said. “Your da’s home. He’ll be so happy to talk to you.”

Why didn’t she mention Ezra? He lived here too, didn’t he? Was he okay? Hudson righted the chair and stood.

And then his father was there, rushing through the door to embrace him. He smelled of hard work and wool. “I thought o’ you all the day and was fairly itching to get home. I be so glad yer here, I am.” He stepped back to see his face. “I talked to the boss, I did, and you can take a job on the line, take up where you left off.”

Hudson shook his head. “As I said this morning, Da, I’m not staying. There’s still a lot of track to lay. I want to see the railroad through until east connects with west.” He looked toward the door, waiting for his brother. “Where’s Ezra?”

Da glanced at his wife. “You didn’t tell him?”

She shook her head. “’Tis yours to tell.”

“They be coming over,” Da said.

“They?”

He nodded.

And then there was a knock on the door. Da answered it, and Ezra walked in—with Sarah Ann. Hudson gave his brother a strong handshake and looked to his girl. She had gained a little weight—which was becoming on her. She had always been so slight a stiff breeze could blow her over.

“Sarah Ann.” He held out his hand.

She looked down and kept her own hands clasped in front of her.

When Hudson looked back at his family, every brow was furrowed. “What’s going on?”

Da looked at Ezra. “’Tis your responsibility. You be on with it.”