by Carol Henry
Chapter Eleven
Jason Aderley took his last breath during the night while the others lay exhausted on the opposite side of Weber Canyon’s raging river. Marian’s haunting sobs awakened Emily.
How does one comfort a mother who just lost her son? What if it had been one of her children? Lord, she missed them something terrible. She should never have left home.
As much to comfort herself as Marian, Emily flew to the distraught woman’s side and lifted Marian’s head and placed it in her lap, brushing the woman’s hair aside. She could do no more, for to envelope the already broken body in her arms would only cause more damage. No matter what people said, words did not help ease such pain at a time like this.
Emily hummed a lullaby. Her gentle voice drifted in the night through the ravine. Before long, others gathered around. Some joined in song for their own comfort; others sat close by listening. Word passed like a game of gossip informing everyone Jason Aderley had gone to meet his maker. The humming switched to hymns, heads bowed, hands clasped.
Touched by everyone’s caring, Emily lay down beside Marian and let the spiritual glow from the strangers blanket them in healing. Jonathan moaned in his sleep next to his mother. His eyes remained shut. He would learn of his brother’s death soon enough. The morning hours were not going to be pleasant for this young man who not long ago was so full of life.
The men dug a small grave for Jason in the morning hours. Sadness prevailed as the rest of the passengers and trainmen learned the Aderley boy had passed during the night. Before the sun rose in the sky over Weber Canyon, everyone had gathered to see the boy lay to rest.
“Such a shame,” one passenger mumbled. “He was such a vigorous young man.”
“What a terrible end to a marvelous adventure for him and his brother,” another replied.
“A real heartbreak, for sure.”
“Why, these things aren’t supposed to happen,” Violet Weaver complained in earnest. “They promised we’d be safe. Told us there was nothing to fret over.”
Emily concurred. Once the trains crossed the vast countryside, the long journey wasn’t supposed to be the torturous expedition it was turning out to be. How many other unsuspecting dangers lurked here in the west? According to a letter from Marybelle after she’d gone out west, people had starved, died of untold diseases, and even been attacked by Indians during the early days when the wagons wheeled across the continent. But those hardships were believed to be over. Especially, by railcar. No one anticipated a damaged trestle, let alone a fatal buffalo stampede.
“I say it’s them Injuns what’s to blame,” Violet spouted.
“If’en we don’t get going and get up out of this ravine, they’ll be coming back looking for us soon enough,” someone else agreed.
“We gotta get outta here. I ain’t a’waiting for them redskins to come back for me.” Violet muttered, agitated and fussing with her hands at her throat, her big bosom heaving dramatically.
“Now you just calm down. All of you,” the conductor yelled to those kicking up a fuss. “Soon as we lay this lad to rest, we’ll be on our way. Silver Springs is just over the rise a few miles. We’ll get a good start before the sun rises too high in the sky so’s we don’t bake in the afternoon heat.”
“I’m not walking to no town. It’s too far,” a portly woman protested.
“Ya can stay behind down here if ya want, but I be moving out with the others. Take yer pick,” Mr. O’Leary said, which left the remaining passengers quiet for the time being.
Marian remained silent. Jonathan sat on the ground, mute, his broken leg stretched out in front of him. Mr. O’Leary said a few words over the grave before the last handful of dirt was tamped down. It was a sad group as they turned from the make-shift grave of the small boy to face the problems of the day.
They didn’t dally.
Climbing up out of the rocky ravine was as arduous a task as the night before when they had climbed down. Filled with a panic to arrive at the top without delay, even though there was no sign the Indians had returned to the area during the night, the entire contingent of trainmen and passengers band together to forge up over the rugged rocky ledge.
Emily attempted to climb, but stumbled and lost her grip.
“Mrs. Carmichael. What are ya trying to do to yerself?” Mr. O’Leary called over to her. “You be too weak to be climbing that hill all on yer own. Come. Ya should be using the lift along with the others.”
Too weary to protest, Emily let Mr. O’Leary guide her to the lift. Along with the Aderleys, Mrs. Young, and the two sisters, Violet and Pansy, Emily waited her turn to be hoisted out of the canyon.
“Thank you, Mr. O’Leary,” Emily said as the eccentric gentleman gave her a hand, assisting her onto the make-shift platform.
“Me pleasure, to be sure,” he answered, then gave the signal for the men on top to get the pulley operation underway.
Next thing she knew, she was above the ravine and swinging over solid ground. Emily found the earth cooler now, almost cold, as she sat on the coarse sand waiting for the rest of the passengers. She sat next to Mrs. Young, who had come up before her. Emily positioned herself in front of the young mother who was in the process of trying to nurse her crying baby before they started their trek to Silver Springs.
As the others climbed up out of the deep cavern, Emily prayed for their safety. One by one, heads appeared over the rim. Along with the trainmen, Mr. O’Leary helped lift the passengers up. Several of the younger women didn’t bother to wait for the lift, wanting only to get out of the canyon. Emily prayed harder after witnessing one woman, whose dress got caught and wrapped around her legs, making it cumbersome to draw her legs up over the side. The long skirt and petticoats clung to her ankles. Her shoe caught in the hem as she swung first one foot and then the other up onto safety. In an undignified grab, Mr. O’Leary urged the woman away from the edge. The two rolled head over heels several times before coming to a quick stop, at which point the woman righted herself, giving Mr. O’Leary an ungrateful look before she strode away. Emily wanted to laugh but held back. However, she did smile when Mr. O’Leary’s fedora, still fastened to his head, shifted over his left eye.
The rumble of gravel, stones, and even loose boulders sliding down and landing at the bottom of the ravine mixed with the whimpers, the cuss words, and the chanting of prayers as several passengers slid back down only to have to start the climb again.
Two and a half hours later, the chill of the night was gone, and the sun began to climb into the bright blue cloudless desert morning sky. The group, exhausted already, had a long walk ahead of them.
“There’s a mesa over yonder,” the conductor said, pointing west. “We’re headed there. Must be about five miles or so. We’d best get walking now before the sun gets too high overhead. Don’t look like there’s much shade to be had between here and there.”
They were given a few minutes to collect themselves, but time was sparse. The fear of an Indian attack made everyone anxious to get underway.
Several of the burly men had already made a make-shift litter with blankets tied to two long wooden poles taken from the raft. Marian and Jonathan were helped onto one, while Elizabeth Young and her baby onto another. The two older sisters refused to be coddled and insisted they were more than able to walk.
Regardless of their disposition, Emily figured she would be able to keep up with Violet and Pansy, seeing as they were more apt to keep a slower pace. She chose to walk alongside them.
Slow and steady, the contingent spread out across the plains. No one spoke. Before long, fatigue set in.
“I can’t take another step,” a woman wailed. “We have to rest. My feet are paining me.”
Violet, the feistier of the two sisters leaned over to her sister and muttered “If’en she’d worn a more comfortable travel shoe instead of those high-heeled pointy things they wear in the city these days, her feet would be just fine.”
“Now Violet, just think, th
e good Lord is using her to do us good. We’re all in need of a rest,” Pansy chastised.
“Don’t I know it?” Violet sounded contrite. “Miss Emily, you must be near dragging yourself. Soon as we catch up with the others, we’ll have a good sit down and rest, too.”
“I am a bit weary.” Emily managed a weak smile at her companions who hadn’t uttered a word ’til now. “My feet are getting hot and tired as well.”
“At least I’m glad to see you wearing sensible shoes, my dear. Quite serviceable. Quite,” Violet said, nodding her head.
Emily’s shoes were nothing to write home about. She could only imagine how uncomfortable it was to be wearing the kind of shoes several of the other women sported.
The sun had risen higher, and the heat was scorching. Beads of sweat trickled down everyone’s foreheads, streaking the dust on their faces like irrigated fields they had passed back in the Midwest. The trainmen offered everyone a drink from several canteens they had filled with water. Emily sank to the gravel-covered ground where tufts of prairie grass lay scattered about.
“For drinking only. We need to save some for later,” the man said. “We still have a long walk ahead.”
Emily drank from the canteen, wanting to take a dram of Dover’s powder, but she needed to stay awake. She laid her head down in her folded arms on top of her bent knees and closed her eyes.
“Mrs. Carmichael,” Mr. O’Leary said. “Mrs. Carmichael. Ma’am. We’ve made room for you on one of the litters.”
Emily barely registered the two men who helped her over to the litter where Elizabeth and her baby had been.
“If you will cuddle my baby, Mrs. Carmichael, I’ll walk alongside for a spell.” Elizabeth Young’s voice cooed her words in the vicinity of the blanketed baby.
“Thanks. I could use the rest.” Emily lay back, cuddled the infant, and closed her eyes.
Keeping a slow, steady pace so as not to tire everyone, the long trek took hours. When they stopped again, mid-morning, a tin of small biscuits and thin slices of salted ham were passed around. Water was doled out as well. But they didn’t linger.
The sun had risen even higher in the azure, cloudless sky.
Mr. O’Leary took his heavy woolen coat off. Marian tilted her hat down over her face to keep the sun off and placed a thin shirt over her son’s head for protection. Elizabeth Young took the warm blanket from around her baby and instead put a small lightweight cloth over the sleeping infant so she wouldn’t be exposed to the sun. Others in the group were doing the same. Emily, although willing to give up her spot on the litter to one of the older women after her rest, was still tired.
“We’re a sturdy lot, we are,” Violet informed her. “Our mother didn’t raise no weaklings.”
“She’s right. And we ain’t near as ill as you are, my dear,” Pansy confirmed. “You just lie still. Can’t be much farther.”
Emily thanked them, knowing she didn’t have another step in her.
They stopped several more times during their walk to Silver Springs. The threat of an Indian attack was replaced with the danger of the constant heat from the hot sun climbing higher and higher overhead.
Before long, the travel-weary assemblage spotted the small town nestled at the foot of the tall, flat mesa.
“Don’t be letting the distance to that town fool you,” the conductor said, shading his eyes with his hands. “We have at least another hour before we get there.”
The crowd was silent with the news.
“We can make it, sir,” Pansy told him, stepping forward just to prove her point. “Can’t be far if I can hear music drifting this way.”
“Now Pansy, your mind’s just so frazzled you think you’re hearing things,” Violet said. “Perhaps you should take a ride on one of them stretcher contraptions. Give your mind and body a rest.”
“I can make it if you can, Violet. I’m not much older than you.”
The challenge had been given. Neither woman let the other have the advantage.
Just the sight of the town up ahead gave Emily hope they’d be there soon. Those who had lagged behind somehow found renewed strength to pick up their feet and stand a little straighter. Emily gave up her spot on the litter to the other woman whose shoes were causing her so much pain.
****
“New York’s a mess,” Charley gasped rushing into Aderley’s office without waiting for an invitation. “They’re striking in Buffalo and Hornellsville on the Western Division of the Erie. They refuse to let passenger trains go out. The Fifty-Fourth New York Regiment is posted at Canisteo and West Street Crossings in Hornellsville.”
Aderley rubbed his hands over his face, his elbows rested on his desk. “What happened?” His words came out in a defeated sigh.
“A small passenger coach with about fourteen people, and four times the militia, rolled into the station close to ten o’clock. They didn’t anticipate the steep climb of Tiptop Mountain. Can you believe they gathered up enough steam to try and make the climb? But the tracks were slathered with soap? The train didn’t do nothing but slide back down those tracks.”
“What about the militia? Didn’t they do anything?”
“The crowd gathered along both sides of the track right down over the hillside like a sea overflowing its banks. Once the train lost speed, they all clambered aboard in a manic frenzy. Men, women, and children, yelled, shouted, scorning the militia who were ineffective. Even some of the militia started sympathizing with the strikers. Then someone uncoupled the cars and coaches. And that’s not all.”
“Don’t tell me there’s more?” Aderley shook his head. “Go ahead, you might just as well get it over with and tell me everything.”
Charley didn’t think there was any reason not to tell Aderley at this juncture of the strike. The man needed to know what the trunk lines had started.
“Strikers axed the steel, and brake rods were bent. Wheels were damaged before the cars were run to ground. They stopped a train filled with troops who had set out for Buffalo. They boarded the train, expelled the militia, and sent the locomotive back to the yards. Another train heading out to New York City was ambushed and cleared of its passengers and crew. They stranded it half a mile away on the east side of town. If you ask me, Donahue has been aware of this right along.”
“I’m beginning to believe you,” Aderley mumbled. “I haven’t seen him around, and he hasn’t reported to work in several days.”
The silence was almost piercing as they sat for a moment.
Aderley was the first to speak. “I’m sorry to hear things aren’t going so well up in New York, Charles, but I’ve got to say, I’m glad things have calmed down here as well as in Pittsburgh.”
“Once the militia took control it didn’t take long,” Charley agreed.
“Have you seen Westmüller lately?” Aderley enquired.
“No. I plan to visit him later today to see how he’s fairing. Talk to the family, see if there’s anything I can do.”
“Keep me informed. And, Charles, stay alert. Let me know if there are any more rumblings going on down below.”
****
Mrs. Flanagan proved to be a godsend. The house ran like clockwork, and Seth could concentrate on the farm. He even caught Catherine singing and smiling; something he hadn’t heard in a long time. With Timothy helping with chores and the fields, and Michael and Robert busy feeding chickens, collecting eggs, pumping water for the kitchen, and carting wood for the stove, Seth was feeling right proud of the family. Madeline was a wonder with baby Sarah. In the evening, Mrs. Flanagan even found time to read to them at the kitchen table.
Anna Louise was missing out on a fine family.
“Have you considered selling some of your lace in town?” Seth asked Maggie one evening when they were all gathered around the kitchen table. “I could check in town next time I go and see if one of the dress stores might be interested in buying some. Perhaps you could display some samples at Mrs. Wentworth’s millinery.”
“Oh, these are just some pieces I crocheted for a special Sunday dress for your sister. She’s been working so hard she deserves something nice. I’m sure the ladies in town would be wanting something a bit more delicate than this.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Flanagan.” Catherine’s head popped up from reading her text book. “But Seth is right. Maybe you should let him take a few pieces into town.”
“I’m thinking I need to go to town in a couple of days,” Seth encouraged. “I’d be glad to take a few pieces with me. See what Mrs. Wentworth thinks.”
Seth’s eagerness didn’t fool his sister if the smile on her face was any indication.
“Well, if you have a mind to. ’Twould be a treat, Seth. You have such a head for business, ya do, always thinking up ways to make ends meet here at the farm. If ya don’t mind, maybe I will. Just to see what comes of it.”
“Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind making a trip back into town, Mrs. Flanagan. Seth has business to tend to, I’m sure.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seth glared at Catherine, a warning which didn’t do much good. “Business is business.”
“That’s what you call it? Business?” She chuckled. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Anna Louise, per chance?”
“Per chance, yourself. Mind your own business.”
“Ah-ha. You are sweet on her. Ever since last year at the fair you haven’t been able to stop talking about her. When are you going to do something about it?”
Her smile teased him.
“Leave me alone,” he grumbled.
“Oh, my. Did you two have words? Did she reject your advances?”
“Leave it be, Catherine,” Seth said, scraping the chair back preparing to leave.
“She did, didn’t she? I saw her with Mr. Linsky. Oh, Seth, is that what’s bothering you? I’m so sorry…”
“I said leave it.” Seth grabbed his hat and stormed out of the house. He was going to prove them all wrong. Anna Louise just needed time to get used to the idea of marrying him. He didn’t need an excuse to go into town. If he wanted to go court Miss Anna Louise, he would.
