The Journey of Josephine Cain

by Nancy Moser

  Frieda spooned the oatmeal into two bowls. “We will eat and be fortified.”

  “But I don’t want to eat.”

  “We will eat.” Frieda pushed the bowl in front of her and handed her a spoon.

  She reluctantly took it and started to take a bite.

  But Frieda stopped her with a hand. “But first, we will pray for God’s direction and protection. You want both, don’t you?”

  She hadn’t thought about it until now. “I suppose I do.”

  “I suppose you do.” Frieda bowed her head and began to pray aloud. “Let us be strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might. Help us put on the whole armor of God, that we may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. . . .”

  Josephine hated to admit it, but Frieda was right. They needed God’s help in this.

  Josephine stood near Miss Mandy’s and put a hand to her churning stomach. “I shouldn’t have eaten.”

  Frieda put a hand to her own midsection. “Remember, we’ve put on the breastplate of righteousness—for Nelly.”

  Her words were strong, but Josephine could tell she was nervous too. The workers were in the rail yard, but people in town were stirring. It was best to do it now, before they risked too much of an audience.

  Josephine took Frieda’s hand and stopped before the front door-flap of the brothel. If she knocked on the wooden frame, would they answer? She didn’t dare just go in. Who knew what they might see.

  And so, she knocked, then cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me? Ladies? Anyone?”

  She heard voices and shuffling inside, then someone said, “Whatcha want?”

  “If I may speak to . . . to Miss Mandy, please?”

  There were some half-asleep voices, then a middle-aged woman pulled open the flap. Underneath the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she wore a chemise and pantaloons. She squinted at the full sunlight. “Well, if it ain’t the general’s daughter. Bored so soon? Lookin’ for some diversion? I could keep ya real busy.”

  Frieda stepped between Josephine and the madam. “You watch what you say. You are speaking to a lady.”

  “Beggin’ yer pardon I’m sure.” She dug sand out of one eye, then glared at Josephine. “Enough of this chitchat. You woke us up. What do you want?”

  “Nelly.”

  Her painted eyebrows rose, and Josephine noticed one was drawn higher than the other. And they were smudged. “How do you know Nelly?”

  “I don’t know her. I just saw her at the store the other day, and . . . and I want her to come with me.”

  “Just like that? You ask and I’m supposed to hand Nelly over?”

  “She will be safe with me.”

  Mandy looked up and down the street. “Looks like she’s safe with me.”

  A man stepped out of the saloon across the street. “What’s up, Mandy?”

  “Seems I’m in the presence of a real, live do-gooder.”

  He put his hands on the small of his back and arched it. “I hates do-gooders.”

  “They’re not my favorites neither,” Mandy said. She looked directly at Josephine. “You’ve come and made your case, now go back where you belong.”

  “And don’t forget your teacup,” a female said from inside, which, of course, elicited giggles.

  Frieda tugged on her sleeve and whispered, “Come on, Liebchen.”

  “Yes, go on, Liebchen,” Mandy said, shooing her away with her hands. “Leave us women alone.”

  But then Josephine saw Nelly through the opened doorway. She was standing there with a pile of clothes in her hands. Without thinking twice, Josephine pushed past Mandy, grabbed Nelly’s arm, and pulled her out to the street.

  “Hey!” Nelly said, dropping the clothes.

  Mandy tried to grab her back, but Josephine drew the girl close, wrapping her arms around her torso. Once again, Frieda stepped between. “Let her come with us. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Letting you steal Nelly is the right thing? How’s that the right thing?”

  The saloonkeeper came over, along with a dozen other men who’d heard the commotion. Added to that were six of Mandy’s girls. . . .

  Mandy took advantage of the audience. “She’s trying to steal Nelly from us!”

  “Stealing ain’t right,” said a man. “Not even if you’s the general’s daughter.”

  Others shouted their agreement.

  Josephine was in trouble. Big trouble. Breastplate? Armor? God? Where are You? “I am not stealing. I just think the girl would be better off with me, with us.”

  “She belongs at Mandy’s.”

  That got her ire up. “She most certainly does not!” Josephine scanned the crowd. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. She is a little girl. She does not deserve . . . that.”

  Suddenly, Josephine saw Hudson Maguire make his way through the crowd. He stood close and addressed them. “Hold on, now. I’m sure this can be rectified to everyone’s satisfaction.”

  “I don’t know how,” Mandy said. “Miss Priss here is interfering with business. We need Nelly.”

  The other women nodded, a few winked at Nelly, and one waved.

  Nelly waved back.

  Hudson pressed his hands downward, quieting the crowd. “Come on, Mandy. What kind of compensation will you need to let Nelly go with Miss Cain?”

  Mandy’s objections seemed to lessen with the mention of money. “I dunno . . . she’s worth a lot to all of us.”

  Josephine shuddered at her words.

  Hudson reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out some coins. He placed them in her hand. “That enough?”

  She quickly palmed them. “Almost . . .”

  He pulled out a few more. And with that, the deal was done. Mandy’s women retreated into the tent, and the crowd moved along.

  Nelly looked up at Josephine. “I’m yours now?”

  Josephine hated her wording, but she would clarify the situation later. She put a finger to her lips, then called out, “Miss Mandy? One more thing, please?”

  The woman appeared at the flap. “Yes, your highness?”

  “Would someone please gather up Nelly’s belongings?”

  Mandy shook her head. “We’ll bring ’em over later.”

  “Now, please.”

  Mandy put her hands on her hips. “I gotta give you credit, Priss. You got gumption. Hang on.”

  “I don’t have much,” Nelly said.

  “But you deserve to keep what you do have.”

  A minute later, another woman with jet-black hair came out with a small pile of crumpled clothes and a blanket. She pressed the pile into Frieda’s arms, then touched Nelly’s cheek. “You be okay, Nell?”

  “I think so.”

  The woman thrust a finger in Josephine’s face. “You take care of her, or the whole lot of us will make you regret it.”

  As if they had been taking care of her? But Josephine nodded.

  When they walked back to the railcar, Josephine felt prickles go up and down her spine, as if any minute someone would rush after them.

  It helped that Hudson came along.

  “I have to thank you for your help, Mr. Maguire. And for your expense. I will see that you are reimbursed.”

  “I don’t want your father’s money.”

  Josephine felt herself redden, for any repayment would come from Papa.

  As they reached their railcar, Frieda showed Nelly the view from the back platform of the train. It gave Hudson and Josephine a moment alone. “Now that you have her, what are you going to do with her?”

  “I . . . I have no idea.”

  “Good intentions are sometimes costly.”

  “I said I would pay you back.”

  “I wasn’t talking about money.” He tipped his hat and walked away.

  Josephine didn’t have time for second thoughts, as Frieda said, “Come on, Josephine. Nelly wants to see inside, and I promised her some breakfast.”

  Nelly declared their railcar “fancy,” tho
ugh actually, it wasn’t. Yet compared to a ramshackle structure made of canvas and scrap wood . . .

  As the girl ate the rest of the breakfast food, Josephine and Frieda talked.

  “Where is she going to sleep?” Frieda asked.

  There was little extra space in their railcar, which already slept two adults.

  “She will have to sleep out here on the sofa,” Josephine said.

  Nelly rose from the table and headed toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to pee.”

  “In here, girl,” Frieda said, leading her to the washroom. “And we don’t say ‘pee.’”

  “Whatcha call it then?”

  “We talk about it as little as possible and if we must, we ask to use the facilities.”

  “That’s an awfully fancy word for pee.”

  Frieda showed her the covered commode, shut the door on her, and leaned against it. “What are you going to tell your father?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Josephine and Frieda sat outside, watching Nelly pick spring wildflowers. Josephine spotted some men riding toward the river. She recognized the brown coat and hat of Hudson Maguire. “I wonder where they are going.”

  Frieda fanned herself. The ostrich-feather fan looked ridiculous considering their location, but in their haste to leave, it was the only one Josephine had brought along.

  Frieda tapped the closed fan on Josephine’s arm. “He’s gone now,” she said. “You can quit ogling him.”

  “I am not ogling him. Or anyone.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Had she looked at him longer than necessary? What was there about Hudson Maguire that captured her interest—besides the obvious?

  Josephine wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The spring sun felt wonderful, but the air was still cool. “We owe him so much. If it weren’t for his intervening this morning, Nelly would not be with us.”

  Frieda shook her head. “So having Nelly is a good thing?”

  “Of course it is. We saved her from a horrible fate.”

  “Keep telling yourself that—until your father gets home.”

  “It is the truth I am going to stress when I talk to him.”

  Frieda looked up at the sun. “Which will be soon. It’s nearly noon.”

  “Good. Because I’m famished.” Josephine took a deep breath. God, please help this go well.

  As if summoned, they saw Albert approach with their meal.

  The hitch in her stomach propelled her to stand. “Nelly, come on back. It is time for lunch.”

  Nelly came running. “We get to eat again?” She handed Josephine her wildflower bouquet.

  “They are very pretty.”

  “But look at you, girl,” Frieda said, brushing off Nelly’s skirt. “Dirt all over you.” She turned over Nelly’s hands. “You need to wash up and make yourself presentable. The general will be home soon.”

  Josephine lost her appetite.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They sat at the table in the railcar, which Josephine had moved in front of the sofa, creating a fourth seat for Nelly. Josephine sat at the table to Nelly’s left, with Frieda across the table, on Nelly’s right. They had her surrounded.

  “When the general is here, remember to say please and thank you, and chew with your mouth closed,” Frieda said.

  “I always do. Miss Mandy hates hearing people chew.”

  “Good for her,” Frieda said. She took the napkin and handed it to Nelly—who proceeded to tuck it into her collar.

  “On the lap will be sufficient.” Then Frieda turned to Josephine. “Anything you’d like to add?”

  A thousand things. And nothing. What could she tell Nelly when Josephine herself didn’t even know how to act when her father came in?

  Footsteps and men’s voices. He was home.

  But when Josephine looked toward the door, she was surprised to see Papa was not alone.

  “Look who I brought home for lunch,” Papa said, removing his hat.

  “Hello, lad—”

  When Lewis’s eyes fell upon Nelly, he faltered, and that break in “ladies” caused Papa to look too.

  “Hello,” Nelly said.

  “Hello, indeed.” Lewis looked at Josephine. “Who’s she?”

  Papa answered for her. “Let me guess. Nelly, is it?”

  She nodded. Then she lowered her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest—or tried to, as the table was in the way.

  “Sit up straight,” Frieda whispered.

  Reluctantly, Nelly sat up properly. But she still didn’t look up.

  Papa’s head made a deliberate turn toward Josephine. “So much for patience.”

  Josephine would have explained the entire thing if it weren’t for Lewis’s presence. “The time seemed right.”

  “For you,” he said. “Seemed right for you.” He walked past the table. “I need to wash up.”

  Lewis set his hat on the rack near the door, then took a chair at the table. Papa returned from the washroom. Unfortunately, the only remaining seat was beside Nelly on the sofa.

  Too late, Josephine thought of offering her own chair.

  “May I sit beside you?” Papa asked the girl.

  Nelly scooted over. Way over.

  “Thank you,” Papa said. He sat on the sofa and looked for a napkin. With Lewis’s unexpected arrival they were short a place setting.

  Josephine was horrified. “I will go tell Albert to get—”

  “No need,” Papa said. He spoke to Nelly. “Shall we share some dishes? I will take the plate and you can have the bowl. Will that be all right?”

  Nelly nodded.

  Then Papa picked up Nelly’s fork and spoon.”Which do you prefer, the fork or the spoon?

  She took the spoon from him.

  “Well now,” Papa said. “Shall we say grace?”

  Josephine was relieved when Nelly bowed her head.

  Papa gave the blessing. “Bless us, O Lord, for these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Help us to be mindful of all our blessings, and the needs of those who have less. Amen.”

  “Amen,” they all said—including Nelly.

  Then he lifted the lid on the bowl. “Yum. Roast beef.”

  Her eyes wide, Nelly nearly drooled.

  “Do you like roast?” Papa asked her.

  She shrugged and spoke for the first time since the men had arrived. “I don’t get no meat at Miss Mandy’s. The ladies do, but she says I don’t need none.”

  “Need any,” Josephine said. She immediately felt foolish for it, for Nelly’s grammatical failings were the least of the girl’s problems.

  “She’s from Miss Mandy’s?” Lewis asked.

  Josephine passed him the bread. “Not anymore.”

  Papa spooned some sliced carrots on Nelly’s plate. Nelly pushed one onto her spoon and ate it. “Miss Josephine came and took me.”

  “So I see,” Papa said. “And how did that go, daughter? Did Miss Mandy agree with your opinions and your plan?”

  Frieda let a “humph” escape.

  “It did not go without incident,” Josephine said. “But I didn’t expect it would.”

  “More than one man tried to stop her,” Frieda said.

  Nelly pointed out the window with her spoon. “You shoulda seen the ruckus.”

  “There was nearly a riot,” Frieda said under her breath.

  “There was no such thing,” Josephine said. “Really, they exaggerate. Yes, I encountered some resistance, but my goal was accomplished and—”

  “Once Miss Mandy got the money . . .” Frieda said.

  Nelly nodded, trying to cut a piece of roast with her spoon. “She likes money.”

  Papa cut it for her. “What money?”

  “I didn’t pay any money,” Josephine said. “Mr. Maguire was kind enough to—”

  “So she rightly belongs to him.”

  Josephine couldn’t believe Lewis’s wor
ds. “She does not belong to anyone. Did we not just fight a war to end slavery?”

  “I seem to remember that,” Papa said.

  Josephine buttered a piece of bread and laid it on Nelly’s plate. Nelly set the roast on top and folded the bread over, making a sandwich. Josephine admired her resourcefulness.

  “Mr. Maguire rightly concluded that Miss Mandy’s objections might be quelled by a few coins.”

  “She is used to being paid for her favors,” Lewis said.

  “Enough,” Papa said to him under his breath.

  Lewis looked at his plate.

  “Where are you from?” Papa asked Nelly. “Originally.”

  She looked at Josephine, as if asking whether she should say.

  “Go on. Tell us.”

  “I lived in Council Bluffs. In Iowa, with my parents. But they died.”

  Josephine’s heart melted. “I am so sorry.”

  “How did they die?” Papa asked.

  “Pa pushed Mama down the stairs, then shot himself.”

  Josephine sucked in a breath, which made her cough.

  “That’s terrible,” Papa said. “I’m sure you miss them very much.”

  “Not really,” Nelly said, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Pa beat me, and Mama used to be a whore till she had me. Miss Mandy and the other ladies are much nicer than they ever were.”

  Josephine felt tears threaten.

  “Can I have some more carrots, please?” Nelly asked.

  “Of course.” Anything you want.

  Papa patted his mouth, then set his napkin aside. He said to Josephine, “If I could have a word outside, daughter?”

  Josephine followed him, her stomach tight. They stepped away from the railcar. “I am so sorry—”

  Papa stopped her words with a hand. “I don’t object to having Nelly with us, as it is—”

  “You don’t?”

  “Let me finish. I don’t object to having her with us, as it is clear she needed saving. What I do object to is your taking matters into your own hands. You might have been assaulted or shot or who knows what else. This is not Washington. These are not cultured people, nor are they people with high morals or even much common sense. They are out here in the wild because they have a wild streak within them. You yourself witnessed a man shot for far less reason than what you did today, taking Nelly.”

  “I’m sorry, Papa. But the thought of her spending another day or night at Miss Mandy’s made me sick to my stomach. I know you are busy. But I couldn’t wait until you had the time. I had the time, so I just did it.”