Westward the Dream (18 page)

20

“Frankly, I'm glad Brenton has something with which to occupy his time,” Jordana told Caitlan as they dressed for the day. “He seems to feel responsible to look over my shoulder at every turn, and that's hardly the adventure I've been seeking.”

“He just cares about keepin' ya safe,” Caitlan replied, helping Jordana do up the buttons of her gown.

“That may be,” Jordana said, barely waiting for the final button to be secured before hurrying across the room to the dressing table. She picked up her hairbrush and tried to work the tangles out of her hair. “But Brenton needn't worry for me. I'm not as addlepated as he might think.”

“I doubt he thinks ya to be addlepated,” Caitlan countered. “He's a level-headed man, yar brother.”

Jordana tied a ribbon in her hair and took up her bonnet from the table. “He is a good man. I've never said otherwise. I just wish he wouldn't be so serious. He needs to enjoy life. Come on, let's go find our way about town.”

“I thought Brenton preferred that we stay here,” Caitlan reminded Jordana. “Besides, I'm thinkin' it might be too cold.”

Jordana frowned. “You may stay behind if that's your desire, but I'm going exploring. Brenton says I've been remiss in studying what's happening around me. I shall seek to remedy that this morning.”

“Jordana, I want to say somethin' first.”

Jordana looked at the worried expression on Caitlan's face and stopped short of opening the door. “What is it?”

Caitlan crossed the room and took hold of Jordana's hand. “I think of ya like a sister, and so I'm givin' ya advice like one. But just as me sisters didn't always care to listen to what the baby of the family had to say, ya might well ignore me too.”

“Of course I won't ignore you. What is it?”

“Ya aren't a little girl anymore. Yar a woman, full grown, and men look at ya as such. Ya don't see the changes the way I do, but just in the last few months yar figure has done some remarkable things.”

Jordana laughed. “I know I'm filling out a bit here and there.”

“Not just a bit, deary,” Caitlan laughed. “I seriously doubt ya could scale a wall again, even if yar life depended on it. Just look at ya. Remember the work we've had to do on yar gowns. And tightness across yar bodice ain't the only change. Ya walk like a woman now, yar hips naturally swayin'. Men look at ya in a different way. I've watched the change.”

“I think you're overly worried about nothing. I'm not a looker, not in the sense of being any great beauty. My figure may be filling out, and I might no longer resemble the boyish child I once was, but that doesn't mean my spirit for adventure has changed. I won't be cooped up here just because the bodice of my dress has grown tighter.”

Caitlan shrugged. “I didn't think it would do any good to speak to ya on the matter.” She retrieved her own bonnet and cloak and opened the door for Jordana. “So I guess I'll just have to be comin' along with ya.”

Jordana grinned, securing her coat. “We shall have great fun.”

Jordana made her way from the Tremont Hotel as though she were a woman with a real purpose and destination. She wanted to explore Chicago before Brenton could appear to tell her the idea was out of the question. Not that she'd necessarily let that keep her from enjoying her day outdoors, but she did like to heed his advice whenever she could. She felt it probably bolstered his confidence and ability to lead them. He seemed such a ridiculous worrier, but Jordana knew he honestly cared about her well-being. If only he wouldn't try to fill their father's shoes and fuss over her about everything, from money to her missing out on school.

“Life is a school,” she had told him. And to her, it was the best of all possible classrooms. She had always been far ahead of her friends in school. Her time at the Deighton School was more college preparation than finishing and polishing of feminine charms, so her education couldn't truly be found lacking.

“Just listen to the noise,” Jordana told Caitlan as they stepped onto the city streets. “It's like New York all over again. I love the city!” She tied the ribbons of her bonnet and waited while Caitlan did the same. It was a frosty winter day, but there was enough of a cloud cover to keep the cold from being unbearable, and for a change there was little wind.

“It stinks,” Caitlan murmured.

“It probably smells far worse in the summer when the lake isn't frozen.”

“Then I'm glad we didn't come then. I've never cared for the smell of rotting fish and wet canvas,” Caitlan replied. “And I heard tell when the cattle are brought into the stockyards for shipping on the trains, the whole city smells of dung.”

Jordana snickered. “But I'll bet you will love the land out west. It stretches out in vast prairies and deserts, or so I've read. Just imagine all that fresh air. Don't you simply love the adventure of it all? The exploration—seeing things for the first time?” Jordana glanced around excitedly at the surrounding buildings. “What a wonderful life we have. Just think how different it could be.”

“I know very well how different it could be.”

Jordana stopped and looked at Caitlan for a moment. Yes, she did know a bit more about life than Jordana did. Jordana figured that because of her growing closeness with Caitlan, the Irish girl would automatically identify with Jordana's lifestyle. But this simply wasn't the case. Caitlan never appeared overly at ease, and no matter where they traveled or how, Caitlan always assumed the role of maid to their little entourage no matter how strenuously Jordana and Brenton protested. Perhaps old habits were hard to shed.

“You know, sometimes I forget your background,” Jordana finally said.

Caitlan nodded slowly, a faraway look in her eyes. “But I can't.”

Jordana wished she could better understand her friend. Sometimes it appeared as if they knew each other quite intimately. Then at other times, Jordana didn't think she knew Caitlan at all. Caitlan seemed to be good at keeping her feelings and thoughts buried deep inside. Feelings for everything except Brenton. Jordana smiled. Maybe that was the very key she needed to get Caitlan to open up and share her heart.

Pressing on, Jordana hailed a cab and grinned when Caitlan seemed surprised at her boldness. “Come along,” Jordana insisted. “I have money for our outing, and I intend that we should have a great and glorious time.” Reluctantly Caitlan joined her as Jordana instructed the driver. “We should like to see something of the city.” She pressed money into the palm of his gloved hand and waited for him to acknowledge it. “Take us wherever this will allow and tell us everything you can about the sights.”

The man grinned. “I'd be happy to, miss.”

The carriage driver took them up the precisely ordered streets, which were icy now and banked with shoveled snow. Some neighborhoods were fashionable with lovely carriages in the road and well-dressed people gracing the walkways. Others were less impressive with great swells of garbage in the gutters and animals rooting around for their meals. The river was unimpressive, as were the stockyards with their lingering stench, making both Jordana and Caitlan cover their noses with a handkerchief.

“Have ya had enough of adventure?” Caitlan teased.

“So sometimes adventure smells less than favorable,” Jordana replied, laughing. “I'm still not sorry we came out.” Looking up the street, Jordana could see that a crowd had gathered to line the avenue.

“What's going on up there?” she questioned the driver.

“I'm not sure, miss.”

“Drive closer. I want to have a look.”

“Jordana, are you certain this is a good idea?”

Jordana tucked her handkerchief back into her sleeve and cocked her head. “Caitlan, you may go back to the hotel if you wish, but I'm getting out to see what the fuss is all about. Perhaps they are having a parade. Wouldn't that be fun?”

“I'm doubtin' there would be a parade on a cold day like this,” Caitlan replied.

The carriage driver pulled as close to the growing crowd as he dared. Jordana thanked him for his kindness and jumped down unassisted. Turning to look back up at Caitlan, she read the anxiety registered on the older girl's face. “Come on, we'll be fine!”

Caitlan stepped down from the carriage and shook her head. “I'm not thinkin' this is a good idea, Jordana. There are a great many dangers in a crowd like this. Too much can happen when ya get men riled up for any reason.”

“Oh, don't be such a goose,” Jordana protested. She reached out and pulled Caitlan along with her. It was hard to imagine why the girl insisted on being such a ninny when it came to a simple parade. After all, Caitlan had crossed the entire Atlantic by herself. Why should a little crowd and parade unnerve her?

Jordana pushed her way through the mostly male throng, slipping once or twice on the icy sidewalk. Several women were pressed close to the sides of men who were obviously their protectors in this mob. Their expressions were the first clue to Jordana that something other than a pleasantry might be at hand.

Still, she was determined to see whatever was going on, and so she elbowed her way through like a common ruffian. It was in the midst of pressing for a place near the front that Jordana accidentally stepped on the booted foot of one man. She looked up and smiled sweetly, batting her eyes apologetically, and met the stern countenance of the injured party. The man's entire demeanor changed as she continued to smile.

“I'm so sorry,” she offered.

“Why, little lady, you'll get swallowed up in this crowd. Let me make you a way.”

Jordana loved the feeling of power from his reaction. Maybe there was something to those womanly wiles her mother had often spoken of. She grabbed hold of Caitlan's hand, noticing the disapproval in her expression, as the broad-shouldered man edged out other onlookers and helped Jordana to the front of the line.

“Thank you, sir. You are most kind.”

He beamed her a smile just as an armed Union soldier came forward to move them all back. “Step back and clear the streets. We're marching over a thousand prisoners through here, and you'll be trampled in the process.”

Jordana looked to Caitlan and then to the soldier in front of her. He reminded her a bit of G.W. Only G.W. was an officer, and this man clearly appeared to be no different from many of the other soldiers who were even now being dispersed among the crowds.

“Sir, what prisoners are you talking of?” Jordana asked him, again smiling and batting her eyes.

The man scowled at her and spit on the ground. “Reb prisoners. There's an exchange going on, and these men are being shipped out. Now, get back like I told you or I'll let them Johnny Rebs run you right over.”

Jordana was disappointed that her womanly appeal had not worked in this case, but she was undaunted. At least until he reached out to push her back. Caitlan came to intercede, calling the man several names before admonishing him about his manners.