A Shelter of Hope

by Tracie Peterson

  The town itself seemed far larger than anything Simone had ever encountered. She gave the horse a loose rein and stared around her in open amazement at the bustle of activity that greeted her. Buildings stretched out for blocks, and people appeared and disappeared inside the confines without seeming to even consider those around them. Realizing the horse had stopped, Simone stared down to see what obstacle had caught his attention. Both she and the horse quizzically considered the dull silver rails that crossed their path. She studied the rails, wondering what it meant and how it worked when a loud blasting whistle sounded just to the east of her. Simone fought to keep the horse under control as a massive black contraption moved along the rail. It came nearer and nearer, and finally Simone turned the horse away and put some distance between her and the great beast.

  The whistle sounded again, and looking up, Simone found a man waving down from a small platform at the back of the steam-belching machine. What in the world was this?

  Waiting for the entire thing to snake past her, Simone couldn’t help but be amazed by the object. Watching with great curiosity, Simone nearly gasped aloud as she found windows on what appeared to be small boxed houses on wheels. People looked out to her from the windows and some even waved. What could it all mean? It was as if someone had taken a wagon and stretched it out to hold hundreds of people. She would have to find out what in the world it was she’d just witnessed, because within moments the black beast and its many cars were completely out of sight. A person could certainly put a great deal of distance between him and whatever else he wanted to get away from by riding on one of those things, Simone reasoned.

  And it was with this thought in mind that Simone found herself convinced to leave Laramie behind and try a new mode of travel. The locomotive. Trains were said to be the rage, and the stationmaster told her that within a matter of days Simone could find herself completely across the country with hundreds of miles to separate her from the Wyoming Territory. It was the idea of such a great separation between her and Garvey Davis’s dead body that finally convinced Simone. She needed distance.

  Days later, Simone sat glued to the window in complete amazement as the landscape seemed to be literally eaten up. She’d managed to sell Garvey’s horse and gear, and before she knew it, Simone found herself headed for a place called Omaha. After that there was a change of trains, and she would journey on to what the conductor promised her was an entirely different world called Chicago. Without telling him her desires to be lost and forgotten, Simone had listened to him tell of massive buildings and throngs of people. And, he had added with a wink, stores aplenty to strike at the heart of any young woman. But it was only after he added sympathetically that the trip was still a good distance away and included several changes of train that Simone made up her mind. Surely this would guarantee her safety.

  “You travel much?” a matronly woman at her side questioned. The woman’s traveling attire seemed ill fitted, and given the heat of the day, she appeared very uncomfortable.

  Simone shrugged. “When I can.” She thought this the safest answer. With her trip drawing quickly to a close, the hard wooden seat and close quarters were beginning to irritate Simone.

  “I can’t abide these things,” the woman continued, “but they’re the only way to cross a great deal of country in a short while. Don’t you agree?”

  At the woman’s attempt to draw her into a conversation, Simone nodded but said nothing as she continued to stare out the window. She felt overwhelmed with the reality of what she’d done. She knew nothing about the cities she’d passed through except that they were large and heavily populated. Compared to Uniontown, they appeared to be the kind of place where a person could easily be forgotten. But while she’d considered debarking the train before her scheduled stop in Chicago, Simone remained. The conductor had stated that a man might live there his entire life and never cover the entire area of the city. Simone liked that idea, and while it was difficult to imagine such a place, she took the man’s word as gospel.

  “I’ve got two daughters living in Denver,” the woman told her proudly. “Why they’ve chosen to live there is beyond me. The scenery is pretty enough, but it’s in the middle of nowhere. Now, Chicago suits me just fine. It’s close enough to get just about anywhere you want to go.”

  Simone let the woman rattle on about Chicago, hoping she would offer up some meaningful information in the course of her conversation.

  “We have a house near the lake,” the woman announced as though it should mean something to Simone. “Well, it’s not right on the lake. In fact,” the woman added with some hesitation, “it’s several blocks away, but near enough.

  “It’s a good time for you to come to the city,” she continued. “Not too hot yet, and most of the heavy rains have already been spent.” She leaned closer to Simone and added, “We’re a proud people in Chicago. Proud of our city and our heritage. You should see us celebrate the Fourth of July.” Simone struggled to remember what significance that day held over others. “Yes, indeed,” the woman continued, “celebrat-ing the independence of America is something we don’t intend to let our children forget.”

  Simone nodded, suddenly remembering lessons her mother had taught her about the history of America. Of course, she thought, the Fourth of July is the day the Declaration of Independence was signed. The history lesson came back to her in bits and pieces, the phrase “Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” coming to mind. How she’d like to believe that those qualities were extended to her, as well.

  When the woman halted the conversation long enough to retrieve something to eat from her bag, Simone took the opportunity to lean back against the seat and close her eyes. She was a solitary pilgrim on a journey that would lead her into a foreign land. She thought of stories she had read about Abraham in the Bible. He, too, had gone into a foreign land without any idea of what he would find.

  “Next stop, Shee-cog-go,” the conductor announced, coming through the car. “All off for Shee-cog-go.”

  Simone bolted awake and her heart begin to race.

  “You fell asleep,” her traveling companion announced. “Although how you did it with the heat mounting and all the ash from the smokestack making the air unbreathable, I’ll never know. We’ll be pulling into the station within a matter of minutes.” The woman turned her attention to tidying her appearance.

  Simone felt a sensation of panic build inside her. What would she do? Where could she go? Suddenly the stranger sitting next to her seemed very important. “Excuse me,” she said, turning to the woman.

  The woman looked up in surprise and halted her attempt to button the too-tight jacket. “Yes?”

  “Well … that is,” Simone paused uncomfortably, “I just wondered where I could go to get a place to stay.”

  The woman’s expression grew sympathetic. “You don’t have kin in Chicago?”

  “No,” Simone said, shaking her head. “My family is dead.”

  “I’m so sorry. Oh dear, a young woman on her own,” the matron muttered and appeared to consider the matter a moment. “I have an old acquaintance who runs a small boardinghouse. She lives a good distance from the station, but you can get there on foot. I’ll give you

  the directions and write a note of introduction. Elvira Taylor won’t allow just anyone to take a room at her house.” The woman paused for a moment, then added, “You can read, can’t you?”

  “Yes, and I’m obliged for the help,” Simone replied. From somewhere in the recesses of her memory, Simone remembered her mother saying that courteous behavior would take you far. Experiencing the helpfulness of strangers had caused her to soften her thoughts on humanity.

  While she waited for her letter of introduction, Simone turned her attention to the window. The world outside fascinated her in a way that she could not even begin to explain. There were such things, such wonders she had never even considered possible. She remembered her mother talking about huge multi-story buildings of brick and stone,
but until she had seen them for herself, it had been hard to believe.

  She noticed the drastic change of scenery outside her window as such buildings broke the pattern of vast stretches of farm and grazing land that had accompanied her across the plains.

  A suppressed strain of excitement fluttered to life inside of Simone. Perhaps her new life in Chicago would bring her safety and hope. Surely in a city as large as this one, no one would pay any attention to her. With any luck at all, Simone would simply assimilate into the town and become just one more citizen. She timidly smiled at this idea. To simply drift into anonymity without a care in the world. Now, there was a thought.

  The woman at her side signaled the conductor and insisted he allow her to borrow his pencil. The man grumbled and seemed none too willing but nevertheless handed the article over and waited while the woman jotted her note. Upon finishing, she thanked the man and passed the note to Simone. “This should give you an open door. Elvira doesn’t have a fancy place, but she tries to be careful with her tenants.”

  “Thank you,” Simone said, taking the paper in hand. The train had already begun to slow, and Simone felt her nervous anticipation build. “How do I get there?”

  The stranger spent the next few minutes explaining the intricate walk to the Taylor boardinghouse. “Of course, you could just hire a hack,” the woman told Simone seriously.

  “A hack?” Simone questioned in confusion.

  The woman seemed not to hear her question. “But they cost a good sum, and for a healthy girl like you, a walk shouldn’t prove too harmful. Don’t talk to strange men, however. They’re never up to any good, and a woman unaccompanied is oftentimes mistaken for being of lesser quality and character. If you get my meaning.”

  Simone nodded. She did indeed “get her meaning.” She knew full well the consequences of paying too much attention to men. She knew better than to look a man in the eye lest he think her being forward and suggestive, and she knew better than to allow herself to become indebted to any of them. Men had strange ideas when it came to paying back favors.

  “Oh, and since this is your first visit to Chicago, I’d suggest you stick with me until we’re outside the depot.”

  “Depot,” Simone repeated the word solemnly.

  “The station is usually absolute bedlam, and I wouldn’t want a wee thing like yourself to be swallowed up in the rush.”

  Simone started to protest, then thought better of it. If this woman wanted to take responsibility for getting her through a serious situation, then Simone had sense enough to yield to the idea. It wasn’t like the woman could hold her against her will should something go amiss. Besides, Simone was quickly coming to realize that not everyone desired to hurt her. Her father had been an evil and hideous man, but his ways were not the ways of the world, she had learned. Still, there was no need to get out of line over the whole thing. Simone didn’t want the past to keep her from finding peace in the future.

  When the train finally came to a halt in Chicago, Simone found herself caught up in the sea of people hurrying to depart. With the carpetbag she’d purchased after selling Garvey’s horse, Simone followed her traveling companion. It was all so overwhelming—the noises, the people, the bustle of activities. Simone had never experienced anything like it in her life. She actually found herself moving closer to the woman who had so kindly offered her help.

  “It doesn’t profit a soul to stand still in this place,” the woman told her while quickly maneuvering Simone through a group of men and women who seemed equally intent on boarding the train that Simone was leaving.

  Finally, after a series of twists and turns, Simone found herself outside the grand station house. It appeared no less chaotic here, however, than inside the depot. The streets were overrun with carriages and wagons of all manner. Simone felt overwhelmed by a complete sense of confusion. What manner of place had she come to?

  “Now, over there is the street I told you about,” the woman said, pushing Simone along. “You head across that intersection and right up that way for three blocks. Then turn right and head six blocks up and …” She continued with the instructions as Simone tried to take it all in. How would she ever find her way in such a place?

  “You’ll have to find work if you’re going to survive in this town,” the woman was saying as Simone once again forced herself to focus on the words. “There’s jobs aplenty, but some of them aren’t for the likes of proper women. You’d do well to get yourself fixed up, get some different clothes. Of course, a lot of folks will expect letters of reference, so you may find yourself limited in what you can and can’t apply for.”

  Simone had never thought about a job. She had very few job skills outside skinning and preparing furs for market. Perhaps there was someone in this town who worked in the pelt business. She thought to ask the woman, then changed her mind.

  “Thank you for your help,” Simone replied, keeping her fears and concerns to herself. One way or another, she would survive in this town. It certainly couldn’t be any worse than what had awaited her in Uniontown.

  And then Simone was alone. Alone in a city with thousands and thousands of people. She had never seen so many people! Standing in the middle of the rushing throngs, Simone felt shaken and wondered if she should take what little money she had left and get back on the train. At least some of the other towns she’d passed through didn’t seem half so big. She glanced upward, looking beyond the street corner. Tall buildings, just as her mother had described, rose around her and spread out in the distance. Chicago!

  “Out of the way, girl,” a harsh voice called.

  Simone glanced up to find a matronly woman pushing her way through the crowd. Following her were three young girls, all who were dressed in such lavish finery that Simone could do nothing but stare. Their gowns were pale pink and trimmed in lovely spidery webs of lace and shimmering ribbon. They reminded Simone of a gown her mother had once shown her. The dress had been something Simone’s mother had owned before marrying Louis Dumas. She had hoped to save it for Simone, but Louis had burned it in a fit of rage one night. Lovely dreams disintegrated in the greedy flames.

  The girls bobbed by in perfect order, from tallest to shortest, following in confident silence. Their faces were turned upward, as if to acknowledge that nothing but the heavens deserved their attention. Simone could only glance down in disgust at her own miserable attire and shake her head.

  After being bumped and jostled by the passing crowds, Simone forced her mind to concentrate on the instructions she’d been given. Moments later, she made her way up the street and finally felt her confidence begin to return. She emphatically reminded herself that she had lived in the rugged mountains of Wyoming. She had spent weeks traveling on her own through unfamiliar territory. She had trapped and hunted for her food, had made shelter for herself and havens of safety. For more years than she cared to remember, she had been required to take care of herself. Why should this big city be any more of a challenge than the wilderness had been?

  The people around her hardly gave her a moment’s notice, and for the most part were too busy scurrying for carriages or hacks to give Simone any notice. For this, she was grateful. As she drew farther away from the station, Simone found fewer people, but the activities were still considerable. As was the noise. Such noise!

  Wyoming had been a tomb of silence compared to Chicago. She found it impossible to take everything in at once as bells, animals, and traffic noise blended in a chaotic rhythm. Then, too, the smell amazed and overwhelmed Simone. The stench of industrial smokestacks mingled with the smoke from the trains was only a fraction of the odors emitted by this strange city. And wrapped around the smells came the ever-present shouts and cries of the street vendors.

  Grateful that her trek took her even deeper into what appeared to be a lower-class neighborhood, Simone no longer felt quite so selfconscious. Here she found women dressed similarly to herself. Simple cotton skirts and blouses, usually accompanied by aprons and children, r
evealed that these women were more her equals than many of the passengers aboard the train into town.

  The closer she drew to her appointed destination, the more comfortable Simone grew. Debris and trash lined the streets, while shoddylooking characters called out from two-wheeled carts.

  “Fresh fish! Get ’em fresh!” a man called from behind her, while another vendor with fruits and vegetables volleyed for customers’ attention.

  The wind began to pick up again, as it had off and on since she started her journey from the depot. The woman on the train had told her that Chicago was well-known for its windy temperament, telling of a fire that occurred nearly twenty years earlier that had wiped out most of the town. The woman had blamed the winds for adding to the problem, citing that this, along with the poor response of the fire brigade, had rendered Chicago helpless. It didn’t appear to Simone that the city had suffered overly from that destruction. She’d never seen so many buildings in one place.

  A woman scurried past, clutching a newspaper-wrapped article in her arms. The two small boys at her side also juggled packages, and when one of them tripped and began to cry, the woman halted and fussed over the child in motherly fashion. Simone froze in her steps not four feet away. Something about the mother’s tenderness brought poignant memories of her own mother.

  “There, now,” the woman cooed, “you’re all right. Let’s get home to Granny and fix us a fine feast before Papa gets home.” The boy, his lower lip still quivering, nodded and reached back down for his bundle.

  A piece of the newsprint had come free from the boy’s package and blew back against Simone’s skirts. She reached down to retrieve the piece and thought to offer it up to the woman, but when she straightened, the woman had already moved off. Glancing down at the newspaper, a boxed advertisement caught her attention.