by Janette Oke
Gradually the commotion around them began to subside as other passengers settled in, as well. Marty noticed that not very many women had boarded the train. The men around them appeared to be of every type and station in life—from businessmen to cattlemen, from miners to farmers like themselves, drifters and maybe even youngsters running away from home.
Marty shuddered as the scarlet plumes moved past them down the aisle and the woman from the station, with skirts and eyelashes fluttering, took a seat. She had selected a spot far from the other womenfolk in the car, among the men who had already pulled out a deck of cards and made themselves a makeshift table. Great drifts of cigar and cigarette smoke already blurred the air around them. Marty hoped there would be no smokers in her area, but it was in vain. Not being used to smoke at all, Marty found it particularly trying. Were they to endure this all the way to Missie’s? Already she felt about ready to choke, and they hadn’t even left the station yet.
The train gave a long low sound like an anguished groan, and the squeaking wheels began to revolve slowly. They were on the way at last. To Marty’s vexation, she still couldn’t tell if they were headed in the right direction.
Gradually the train began to pick up momentum. The rough-looking buildings on the back streets of the town flashed past them now. Marty watched carriages and horsemen pulled up on side streets waiting for the train to pass by. Children called and waved, and dogs barked. The train’s whistle blew in response, but it steadily moved on.
They left the town behind and moved out into the open countryside. Marty could not draw her gaze away from the window. Trees swished by them, cattle lifted tails and ran off bawling, horses snorted and swung away, blowing angrily, tails and manes flying. Still the train pounded on, wheels clickity-clacking and smokestack spewing forth great billows streaming by their window.
It’s a wonder, that’s what it is, thought Marty. Why, I bet we’re going about as fast as a horse can gallop, and nobody needs to lift a finger for the doing of it. Though she probably would have gotten a vigorous argument if she had expressed such thoughts to the train engineer or coal stoker.
Marty finally took her eyes from the passing countryside long enough to look at Clark, interested in his reaction to this captivating new experience. To her amazement, she found that Clark had settled himself comfortably and, with head leaning back against the makeshift package of their food bundle, he slept soundly as though sleep was the full purpose of a train ride.
“Well, I never,” muttered Marty under her breath and then smiled. She should be sleeping, too. The recent days had been most difficult and busy, and the sleep she had gotten in the last few nights was limited indeed. Clark was wise. He, too, was tired. He needed the rest. She’d try, as well. But, in spite of her resolve, she could not as yet get her mind or body to relax. She’d just watch the scenery for a while. Maybe she could sleep later.
Marty must have slept, for she aroused at the sound of a crying baby. It took her a few moments to get her bearings, and then excitement again filled her as she recalled that they were on the way to Missie.
The baby continued to cry. Marty opened her eyes and turned toward Clark. But when she looked, he was not there. For a moment, she was unnerved. Where could one disappear to on a moving train? Remembering the “lost-watch” scare of the morning, she told herself that Clark would not be far away and not to get in a dither.
The coach was even more blue with smoke than it had been when she had dropped off to sleep. It was hot and stuffy, too, and Marty longed for some fresh air. She gazed about her at the crowded coach. The poker game was still going on at the far end of the car. The woman had removed her brilliant hat, and she no longer sat alone. A distinguished gentleman in a fancy suit and frilly shirt was sitting with her. They laughed as they talked.
The crying baby was in the seat across the aisle. The poor mother already looked tired out. She had two other little ones with her, as well. The man who accompanied her growled to her to “hush the brat ’fore we git throwed off the train,” and the woman tried even more intently to quiet the infant. But the baby was not to be placated. The man got up and, angrily muttering to himself, left. This started another one of the children crying, and the young mother really had her hands full. Marty started to leave her seat and go to the woman’s aid, but a matronly looking woman arrived on the scene first.
“Can I help you some?” she asked the mother, and, without waiting for a reply, she took the crying baby. “You care for your son, and I’ll try to get the baby to sleep.”
Marty’s heart went out to the young mother, and she said a quick prayer of thanks for the kind motherly soul who was helping. She laid the baby in her lap and loosened the blanket. The baby soon was sleeping, and Marty wondered if perhaps the young mother had bundled the little one too tightly and the poor infant was nearly smothering in the discomfort of the sun-heated coach.
Marty laid aside her own hat and tried to fan her flushed face. What I wouldn’t give to be able to go for a walk, she thought. Sure would feel good to have a little wind on one’s face.
Clark returned, and Marty was relieved in spite of her little inner lecture earlier.
“Feelin’ a little better?” Clark asked.
“I did sleep some, an’ it sure didn’t do me no harm. Would be nice to cool off a mite. This here coach is so stuffy an’ so filled with smoke, I feel like I’m travelin’ in a saloon ‘stead of a—”
“Now, what you be knowin’ ’bout a saloon?”
“I don’t, it’s jest—”
But Clark was laughing at her.
“Where ya been?” asked Marty to change the conversation.
“Jest stretchin’ my legs some. Ain’t much of a place to walk, thet’s fer sure. Jest back an’ forth, back an’ forth. S’pose it helped a little.”
“What I wouldn’t give fer a walk ’bout now,” said Marty.
“Ya want fer me to ask ’em to stop the train an’ let ya off fer a spell?”
“Clark . . .” But she didn’t finish, and Clark stopped his teasing.
“What time is it, anyway?” asked Marty finally.
Clark pulled out his pocket watch. “Well, it’s almost noon. Quarter of twelve, in fact.”
Marty sighed heavily. “Thought it would be at least late afternoon,” she said. “Seems like we been travelin’ fer half of forever already.”
Clark smiled.
“How many days did ya say we’d be on the train?”
“Reckon they didn’t say fer sure. They was rather offhand about arrivin’ time. Said thet the trip usually took ’bout a week—dependin’ on the weather, the track, an’ such.”
“A week! I’m thinkin’ we’ll have us enough of this train by the time thet week is over.”
“Well, now, I didn’t say this train, exactly. We’ll be leavin’ this train in three days’ time. We transfer to another one. This one’s usually on time to where it’s goin’. It’s the one further on thet’s some changeable.”
“I didn’t know thet we would be gettin’ on another train. What’ll it be like?”
“I’m not rightly sure. Only thing I know, it seems a bit unpredictable. But it won’t be so bad. By the time we board her, we’ll already be in the West an’ almost there.”
Marty suddenly felt hungry. “Anythin’ still fittin’ to eat in thet there pillow of yours?”
Clark passed her the lunch. It hadn’t suffered much. Ellie had packed it well.
Marty lifted out a box that held sandwiches. “Sure would be glad fer a nice hot cup of tea or coffee,” she commented.
“I think thet I jest might be able to find us some,” said Clark and left his seat, walked down the aisle and out the swinging door. He was soon back with two steaming mugs of hot coffee. It was too strong for Marty’s liking, but it was coffee and it did wash the smoke taste from her throat.
They finished their lunch with a couple of tarts, and Marty carefully repacked the uneaten food.
“Ya kn
ow, ya could stretch yer legs a bit iffen ya like to,” offered Clark. “Seed other women movin’ ’bout some. An’ the little room’s down thet way,” he motioned.
Marty smiled her thanks and stood up. She couldn’t believe how rumpled her dress looked in just one morning. She tried to smooth the wrinkles out but they stubbornly remained, so she shrugged in resignation and moved out into the aisle.
Marty had been vaguely aware of the rock and sway of the train as she sat in her seat, but she had had no idea how decided it was until she took a step forward. The train suddenly seemed to lurch, throwing her off balance. She quickly put out a foot to rebalance herself when the train rolled the other way, leaving her startlingly off-balance again. Each place she went to put her foot was either too high or too low. At last she gave up trying to make it on her own and firmly grasped the seats as she moved forward. It seemed to be an awfully long walk to the “little room,” and by the time Marty had made it back to Clark, she’d had enough of train-aisle walking for the time.
The train hooted and chugged, whined and rocked its way westward. Marty viewed more than one sunrise and sunset, happily content that the train was truly headed in the right direction.
They stopped at small towns to let off or take on passengers. Sometimes the train seemed to sit for a ridiculously long time while train cars were shuffled and shouting men hauled off or on some sort of cargo. At these times Clark and Marty would leave the train and walk, strolling around just to get the kinks out of their muscles. On occasion they visited a store to restock their little food supply. Often it was no cooler out on the station platform than it had been in the stuffy coach, but at least it was a bit of relief from the cramped position. Marty began to wonder if it really would have been much more difficult to cover the miles in a jolting covered wagon.
The landscape around them changed with each passing day. Trees were fewer in number, often forlornly clumped together by a meandering stream. The towns, sometimes no more than a few scattered houses, were now even farther apart than before. On the third day, they rolled into a town that Clark announced was the place where they would transfer to the other train. Marty was not reluctant to make the change. She had no ties to this present train, and she had found very little in common with their fellow travelers. Those few whom she had become acquainted with all seemed to have gotten off at earlier stops except for the one middle-aged lady in dove-gray gown and hat who had helped with the baby. Mrs. Swanson was heading west to live with her son, her husband having died recently. Marty thought it was awfully spunky of the woman to make such a life-changing move all alone.
Clark had visited with several of the men on the train, attempting to learn all he could about the West before arriving at his son-in-law’s ranch. He did not wish to appear to the ranch hands as another “ignorant fella from the East,” he told Marty.
When they arrived at their point of transfer and the train dismissed its passengers, Clark and Marty found their way across the rough platform. People milled about and called to one another, but as there was no one in this town they knew, they kept their attention on the task of finding their luggage and getting it stored in readiness for the next train in the morning. Then they made their way from the station into town to find suitable lodging.
The baggage attendant had informed them that a hotel was just down the street within easy walking distance. When Clark requested a room from the man at the reception desk, he was told that a room was available and named the price. Marty was shocked when she heard the amount. But Clark did not argue with him and counted out the bills from the small roll he carried in his pocket.
They climbed worn carpeted stairs and found their room number. Marty looked about her in shock at the sight that confronted them on opening the battered door. The room was almost bare, except for a good bit of dirt and dust, and the bed linens appeared to have been used by at least one other occupant—maybe more. Marty had little objection to sparse furnishings, but actual grime was another matter.
Marty could see Clark eyeing the muddy boot prints on the floor and the soiled pillows strewn on the bed. But he made no remark on the sad state of the room.
“I think I’ll take me a little walk an’ sorta check out the town. Ya wanta come along or jest rest a bit?” asked Clark.
A walk did sound appealing, yet from what Marty had so far seen of the town, she was not so sure she wanted to investigate it.
“I think I’ll jest rest here fer a bit. I’ll see the town when we go out to git our supper,” she answered.
Clark took his hat and left.
Marty didn’t know what to do with herself after Clark had gone. She wished she had a broom, a pail of hot, soapy water, and a stiff scrub brush. The place looked as though it could use a good cleaning.
She crossed to the bed with the thought of lying down, but then eyed the soiled linen and changed her mind. She walked to the window, intending to pass some time by watching the action down on the street. The window looked out on nothing but the desolate countryside. She lifted her case from the only chair in the room, an overstuffed piece that certainly had seen better days, and tried to settle herself in it. It had a broken spring that made it impossible to sit comfortably. Marty decided her only choice was to pace the floor. Well, she could certainly do with the exercise after being confined to the swaying train for three days. She walked. Round and round she walked, wishing she had gone with Clark.
About the time she thought she would surely go crazy, Clark returned, carrying clean bed linens over his arm.
“The maid has arrived,” he joked.
“Where’d ya git those?” Marty asked admiringly. “Ya been foragin’ through hotel closets?” she teased.
“Not exactly. They weren’t all thet easy to come by. I went out fer a walk, like I said. There’s only one other hotel, of a sort, in this here town. It boasted ’bout bein’ ‘full up.’ Couldn’t find a decent roomin’ house anywhere. So when I got back here, I jest asked the fella at the desk for some clean linens. I said it ’peared like the maid had somehow missed our room when she was makin’ her rounds. He wasn’t too happy to ’commodate me, but I jest stood right there, smilin’ an’ waitin’. He finally found me some.”
Marty was happy to strip the bed and put on the clean sheets and cases.
“Not too much fer eatin’ places, either,” Clark continued as she worked. “Did see a small place down the street. Looks a little more like a saloon than a café, but it mightn’t be too bad iffen we git there early an’ leave as soon as we’re done.”
“We can go most anytime. I’ll jest fix my hair some an’ grab me a hat.”
They left the hotel and walked out into the brisk wind. Marty held her hat with one hand and her skirt with the other.
“Fella I met says it blows like this most of the time here,” remarked Clark as they leaned into the wind. Marty wondered what in the world the women did if they ever needed one of their hands free to carry something.
When they reached the unpretentious building where they were to get their evening meal, Clark held the door against the wind. They seated themselves at a small table, and Clark nodded for the waiter. They soon learned that the “house speciality” was stew and biscuits; or roast beef, gravy, and biscuits; or beans, bacon, and biscuits. They ordered the roast beef and settled in to wait for their meal.
Marty glanced around the room. The lighting, a lone flickering lamp on each table, was dim. The few windows seemed to be covered with some kind of dark paint. A blue haze from the smoking of the occupants further hindered visibility. Most of those who lounged around were not eating but drinking. Marty did spot three men in the far corner who were having a meal. The others just seemed to be talking or playing cards. Occasionally a loud laugh would break the otherwise comparative silence in the place. At least for now, Marty was the only woman in the place.
Marty hoped their order would come quickly so they might leave soon. If this was Missie’s West, Marty wasn’t sure she woul
d be at home in it. She felt uneasy in her present surroundings. Having never traveled beyond her own small community since leaving her girlhood home, Marty was very unfamiliar with the present environment. She had seen and heard things on this trip that were entirely new to her. She was sure she was not in favor of a lot of what she saw—the brashness, the intemperate drinking, the gambling, the casual attitude toward life and morality.
Their meal arrived. The waiter asked gruffly, “Watcha drinkin’?” as he set the plates down, frowning when Marty asked for tea. She hastily changed her order to coffee before he had time to respond. He didn’t fuss about the coffee, but when he set it before her it was so old and strong she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to drink it.
The meat was a little tough and the gravy was greasy and lumpy, but Marty sopped her biscuits in it and ate like the men in the corner. She was unable to finish it all and was relieved when she felt she had eaten enough that she could leave the rest. Clark had a second cup of coffee, and then they were free to go.
Forgetting it was still daylight, Marty was unprepared for the bright sunshine when they stepped out the door. She took advantage of the fact to study the buildings of the town and look in the store windows. The things on display did not really seem all that different from what Mr. Emory carried at the general store back home. The fact both surprised and relieved her. Perhaps Missie was able to shop for needed items after all.
It was too early to retire, so Clark suggested a short walk. Marty didn’t like the wind but, remembering her confining attempt to walk in the dismal little room, she agreed. They walked on past the remainder of the buildings on the street—the bank, the sheriff’s office, the telegraph office, another store, on past the stagecoach office to the feedstore, the livery, and the blacksmith. Clark slowed his steps to better watch the action at the smithy’s. Two burly men were shouting and shoving as they prodded a big roan-colored ox into the ox sling for shoeing. The ox had decided on his own that he didn’t need new shoes. Marty heard some words she didn’t think were intended for a lady’s ears, so she hastened her steps. Clark lengthened his stride to catch up to her.
