by Murray Pura
The younger officer smiled. “Sure, Pete, but I get restless just the same. The Irish in me gets awful cramped in Chicago when the spring comes. I wasn’t from Dublin or Cork like your kind, y’know; I grew up under the stars of Connemara.”
The older man put his hands behind his back. “Suit yourself. I’d miss my baseball games. And the wife would miss her church teas.”
The young officer put out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Zeph gripped his hand and shook it. “If you ever make it out west, look me up in Iron Springs. Zephaniah Parker.”
“I may just do that. Pat Cavanaugh.”
The other officer nodded. “Pete Cassidy. A safe trip to Pennsylvania to you both. And”—he winked at Cody—“no more horseplay on the streets o’ Chicago, if you don’t mind. It looked to me like you were layin’ an awful lickin’ on your poor father here.”
They all laughed.
“Come along and let’s walk, Pat,” said Pete. “It’s getting nippy, and I want the blood moving in my veins to warm myself up.”
Zeph and Cody watched them march away down the crowded sidewalk. Then Zeph dug the silver watch Austen had given him out of a pocket of his sheepskin coat. He opened the lid, looked at the time, whistled, and snapped the lid shut. “We’d better find our womenfolk and escort them to the evening train, pronto.”
Charlotte and Cheyenne were in one of the shops down a block that Charlotte had indicated to Zeph earlier, dressed in matching navy blue dresses and bonnets with white lace, their arms full of bags and parcels.
“We were just coming,” said Charlotte. “Here.” She handed several brightly wrapped packages to Zeph.
“What is all this?” he demanded.
“Gifts for the Amish families in Pennsylvania.”
“You mean peace offerings.”
“Call them what you will. Cody, help your sister with her bags. What were you two gentlemen up to?” “Just watching the locals.”
They were walking briskly up a street toward the train station. Charlotte glanced over at Zeph. “Did you get a chance to get to the telegraph station?”
“There were no telegrams for us. Wrote Matt and told him we’d be in Harrisburg in two days—”
“I know we go left here,” she interrupted.
“You’re right. There’s the Pennsy Station. I’d better make sure they’ve put our luggage on the right train. That’s our locomotive there, I believe, Missus Wyoming, am I right?”
“Well, the number is correct. Unless they have two engines using exactly the same numerals.”
“Do you have the tickets?”
“You have the tickets in your pocket, and you know it perfectly well.”
“Here.” He gave Charlotte the boxes he’d been holding. “Find us some good seats in one of the sleepers.”
After talking with an official for the Pennsylvania Railroad who looked over a sheet of paper and nodded his head—“Harrisburg, the Wyomings”—Zeph made his way back to platform four. A young boy was selling the Chicago Daily Tribune and hollering at the top of his lungs, “Double hanging in Wyoming! Raber Gang plunged into eternity!”
The feds sure didn’t waste any time, thought Zeph.
He bought a paper and opened it up. Above the fold were large black letters: HANGED! There was a photograph of two men hanging from ropes with black hoods over their heads. He kept walking toward the train as he read the story under the grim picture.
Charlotte was standing behind Cody and Cheyenne on the steps of one of the cars. Her arms were full of bags and parcels. She was rolling her eyes at a heavy woman who was taking her time making her way into the car. “Move ahead, Cody,” she was saying, “move on ahead, son.”
“I can’t budge.”
“Just push a bit, a little bit. Let them know we’re behind them and that we need to get on board the train, too, before it leaves without us.”
“Conner,” said Zeph as he came up to the car.
“Oh, thank goodness. I thought you’d taken a horse back to the Montana Territory. Can you help me with these boxes again?”
“Conner, it’s over.”
Charlotte looked down at him from the steps. He held up the newspaper. She saw the headline and the picture. The blood ran out of her face. “Oh, my Lord Jesus,” she said. Her eyes rolled back white, and she collapsed, falling down the steps onto the wooden boards of the station platform, cracking her head and lying still. Her bags and parcels tumbled out of her arms and over the toes of Zeph’s boots. Five or six dropped down onto the tracks and lay under the wheels of the 5:17 to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
Chapter 19
Zeph watched her sleep, listening anxiously for changes in breathing that might signal she was in some sort of distress. He had not bothered to transform their seating area into beds, so Cody had rolled his sheepskin into a pillow and leaned his head against it and the window. Cheyenne was awake. She slowly and continuously stroked Charlotte’s hair.
Lights flickered in the dark square of the window. Zeph supposed they would be coming into Fort Wayne soon. The morning would find them well into Ohio and through the Great Black Swamp. Travel would be a bit slower through the swamp, but vast sections of it had been drained for the railroad, and Zeph didn’t think there would be much trouble. He smiled briefly when he remembered a story of how the Michigan and Ohio militias had tried to fight a war with each other over a boundary dispute, but each had gotten lost in the swamp and had a hard time finding one another. What if the Union and Confederate armies had kept missing each other on their marches north and south? But there had been no Black Swamp between Virginia and Maryland to confuse them.
Gently he put one hand on Charlotte’s wrist. Her pulse was not too weak, not too strong. On her forehead was a large bump with a plaster on it, a real goose egg. She would not be too pleased when she woke up and examined it in the mirror, but her anger would not chase it away. That would be difficult for her, not being able to rely on her strength and determination to deal with a problem. He smiled.
Take care of her Lord; she is one special lady.
A small crowd had gathered around Charlotte after she fell. An army surgeon had been among them, and he had Zeph hold her up while he administered smelling salts. She inhaled sharply, coughed and sneezed, and demanded to know who had struck her. When Zeph reminded her softly that she had fainted when he showed her the newspaper headline, her face had reddened. She told the people looking down at her, “I know those men were evil, but I have always found hangings brutal and upsetting. The mere mention of it causes me great distress.”
She had rested there for about five minutes while the surgeon cleaned the cut on her forehead with alcohol and put a sticking plaster in place, then had leaned on Zeph and struggled to her feet. She almost fell a second time, and the people reacted with “oh no” and “keep a good grip on her,” but with Zeph’s help she regained her balance and thanked everyone for their concern.
“You have been most kind. But I fear I have delayed your travels long enough, and I am certain the engineer of this locomotive would like to have pulled into Pittsburgh Station ten minutes ago.” The people had laughed. “Please have a safe journey, and may God bless you all.”
Once Zeph had helped her into her seat in the car she had groaned, “Oh, I made a perfect spectacle of myself.”
“Char—Conner, no one is going to remember this incident a week from now,” he’d soothed her, “except maybe the army surgeon and four or five of the young men who fell in love with you and wished I was your brother.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Zeph—Fremont. The crazy things you come up with.”
“Well, I’m a man, and what they were feeling when they looked at you, lying there unconscious in my arms, was written all over their faces, plain as day. Once the surgeon asked who I was and I told him I was your husband, their faces went flat as pancakes.”
“They did not.”
“You bet they did.”
&nbs
p; “How can you know what’s in another man’s heart?” “I’m a man, and it was in my heart, too.” “What was in your heart?”
“Your face so white and the blond hair falling over your cheek and forehead, your hands so calm, your lips quiet and pale, freckles sprinkled on your skin, your soft breathing. There was a sweetness and a youngness. We could all see your beauty, and we could see the sleeping child in your closed eyes and small hands.”
Charlotte’s face had taken on color for the first time since she had fainted. “I doubt too many of the young men you say fell in love with me while I lay prostrate on platform four had those precise thoughts in their head. You sound like a blend of William Shakespeare and James Fenimore Cooper.”
“Maybe they couldn’t have put it into those exact words, but that’s just about where their thinking was at.”
Charlotte had ducked her head and tried not to smile. “The notions you get in that mind of yours, Fremont.”
“Would you like some fresh Chicago water?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He’d handed her the Union army canteen. She had sipped at it, made a face, then sipped at it again.
“Well, it’s not Montana mountain water.” She’d handed the canteen back to Zeph. “Thank you, my dear.” “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, yes, I’m so sorry about all that, Fremont.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Conner. What was I thinking? Flapping that photograph in front of your face. I apologize.”
“There have been enough public hangings in Iron Springs and Virginia City. I shouldn’t have been that squeamish.”
“I’m sure you’ve attended exactly none of them.”
“There were always better things to do. Not that I’m saying some of those men didn’t deserve it. Especially that hoodlum Skipjack William, who shot the woman teller.”
Zeph had nodded. “Hard to find room in your prayers for that man.”
“Yes, and hard to find room for Seraphim Raber or any of his gang of beasts.”
A spark of her old vehemence had flared. Zeph stared at the dark fire in her eyes. She had glanced out the window at an engine building up steam on another track.
“Though it is my Christian duty to pray for their black souls.”
She had no sooner said this than a tear slipped down her cheek followed moments later by another. In a burst of anger, she struck at them with her hand. “Oh, stop it!” she snapped.
“Take it easy, Conner,” Zeph said. “There’s nothing to get upset at yourself about.”
“How would you know? Or do you have total knowledge of my thoughts like you do of those young men?”
“I just meant it’s not the time to get all worked up. Rest easy and get your strength back.”
“I have plenty of strength, Fremont Wyoming.”
“No one’s denying that. Just like to see you with more.”
“More?”
“You seem so fragile right now.” “Fragile?”
“Just joking, Conner. Anyone could see—” “No one’s ever used the word fragile to describe me in my entire life.”
“You’re building up a head of steam powerful enough you could roll over a buffalo herd. Don’t want you to burst a boiler, that’s all. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”
“What makes you think I’m tired?”
“Well, you got that knock on your head—”
“I’m perfectly fine. I don’t feel a thing. I could waltz all night.”
“I’m sure you could.”
“Why hasn’t this train left yet?”
“I don’t know. Want me to walk up the track and give the engineer a dressing-down on your behalf?”
Cody had caught Zeph’s eye. He raised his eyebrows. Zeph shrugged. Charlotte saw the interaction between them. Her eyes had narrowed.
“What are you men up to?”
Zeph had touched the brim of his hat. “Polite conversation, ma’am.”
An hour after the train had left Chicago, Charlotte had fallen asleep. Over time the blow on her head had swollen while her breathing had relaxed and become deeper and more even.
Now he gazed at her pale face in the dark of the Indiana night and hoped when she woke up she’d be on the right side of heaven. His hand was still on her wrist. Thank goodness she was warming up. Cheyenne had stopped smoothing down Charlotte’s hair and was asleep against her shoulder.
A lot of things didn’t add up. He’d never known Charlotte Spence to faint over anything during all her years at Iron Springs. When he’d brought Ricky through the door that night, spitting blood, she’d scarcely blinked. She’d been thrown by broncs hard enough to knock the wind out of any ten men and swung right back into the saddle. Had cracked ribs once that she got Doc Brainerd to wrap tight, and Doc said she never dropped a tear or lost color in her face. So why had she fainted when he showed her the newspaper?
He blew out his breath suddenly and shook his head. He hoped she’d feel better after a couple of days’ rest and a few decent meals. The train had a dining car and hot food on board.
“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?” He looked at her, surprised. “How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough.”
He smiled crookedly. “I guess I’m hoping you feel a lot better by the morning, Conner.” “Conner.”
He heard her sigh in the darkness. Her face was a pale smudge.
“I have so many names, don’t I? Conner. Charlotte. Miss Spence. Missus Wyoming.”
She was silent for a few moments. He could feel something building up in her, but she didn’t speak. Finally he heard the rustle of her dress and blanket, and she leaned forward in the dark. He felt her soft, warm hands on his.
“Z,” she whispered, “I think you care a little bit for me.”
“Char,” he responded, “I care a lot more than a little.”
“I’ve cherished the way you’ve treated me ever since we left the Sweet Blue. Your words, the gentle way you look at me, your kisses, your courage. I’m sure God has a special woman for you somewhere. I just don’t think it can be me.”
Zeph felt his heart drop and black dismay roar through his head. He opened his mouth, but felt her hand touch his lips.
“Don’t say anything. All the names you call me by, but you don’t know who I am. The day you find out will be the day you turn your back on me forever.”
Chapter 20
Another day and then a night and a morning and the train slowed as it came into Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Cody and Cheyenne knew the city well and had their faces pressed eagerly to the windows.
“We are almost home,” said Cody. “Soon I’ll be able to introduce you to my aunt Rosa.”
Zeph smiled. “I look forward to that.” “Her apple pies and cherry pies are excellent.” Zeph watched the buildings slip past as they slowly moved toward the train station. Charlotte looked at his face and eyes. Cheyenne was fastening a white bonnet.
“You have been to Harrisburg before,” Charlotte said. “My brothers and I were trained here,” he responded. “Camp Curtin. It would have been back there. They closed it in ‘65. The city’s changed a fair bit.”
“When are we home?” asked Cheyenne. “Well,” replied Charlotte, “there is one more train to take after we leave this one. But that will not be a long trip, less than two hours. Lancaster is only forty miles south and east of here.”
“Then we will see everyone? All our old friends? My playmates?”
“Yes, darling, you will.”
“Who will pick us up at the station? How will we get to Bird in Hand?”
Charlotte leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Remember when we stepped out for a walk in Pittsburgh and bought some ice cream? We telegraphed Aunt Rosa at the same time and told her which day we would be in Lancaster. She will watch the trains this morning and this afternoon.”
“I want to show her my yellow scarf.”
“Oh, no, dear, remember? Soldiers
are not something Aunt Rosa and the others get very excited about.”
“Why not? The soldiers saved us from the outlaws.”
“I know they did. And we thank God they did. But soldiers and their guns and swords do not go down well with the church. You know that. I will keep the scarf and hat safe in my luggage, all right?”
Cheyenne sulked. “All right.”
Charlotte smoothed down her own hair, placed a few more pins, then put on a white bonnet and asked Cheyenne if it was straight or crooked. The girl said glumly, “Straight.”
“It will be fine, dear,” soothed Charlotte, holding Cheyenne’s hand. “I will keep your scarf safe, and one day we will show it to Aunt Rosa. You’ll see.”
“Why white all of a sudden?” asked Zeph, looking away from the window and seeing her bonnet.
She smiled. “That is the Amish way.”
“How are you feeling today?”
“Here and there. Thank you for asking.”
“It is not easy for you to come back to these people. They excommunicated your family. I pray for you day and night.”
She touched his cheek with hers and whispered, “I know you do.”
It seemed strange to Zeph to step off the train and stand on the platform and remember being a soldier here in 1862. He stretched in the cold sunlight and buttoned his sheepskin coat.
No warmer in Pennsylvania than it had been in Nebraska. He and Cody freshened up and got all the luggage on the train to Lancaster while Charlotte and Cheyenne were still using the restrooms. Then the four of them took a few minutes to stroll up and down the platforms and look at the different locomotives.
“How are we fixed for chewing gum?” Zeph asked. “One stick of Black Jack left,” said Charlotte. “Well, I’d better take a quick hike into town and get some. What do you say, Code? Want to come with?” “Sure.”
“You ladies need anything?”
“No,” said Charlotte, “we did our shopping in Chicago.”
Zeph and Cody found a store that sold gum and candy. They not only bought gum for themselves, but also for Cody’s old friends and Cheyenne’s, too.
