Threads West, an American Saga

by Reid Lance Rosenthal

  He almost fell over in his rush to rise and pull out her chair. “I can be uncoordinated at times.”

  She laughed. The sound of her voice coursed through the center of his being. He shook his head, as if to clear it.

  Inga noticed. “Are you feeling well, Johannes?”

  He took her hand across the table. Her skin was wondrously smooth and soft and even this slight touch seemed to generate an arc of energy.

  “I was just trying to flip a fly off my nose.”

  Inga giggled, and Johannes laughed as much at his own foolish words as at her response to his lame excuse. Inga ordered tea and they picked up the discussion where they had left off the previous night. Johannes was aware that Inga did not withdraw her hand and their fingers continued to touch.

  She told him of her parents and their untimely death, and Johannes made her smile with his comical description of how he and Reuben had met on the ship.

  “Have you decided yet?”

  They looked up. The waiter seemed annoyed. The dining car was crowded. Several people stood at one end waiting for a table. Johannes realized suddenly that this was the fourth time their server had been to the table to take their order. Three times, he had been dismissed with a “May we have five minutes. We need to look at the menu.”

  Johannes looked at Inga. “We have held up this poor waiter long enough. What will you have?”

  “Two poached eggs, a slice of toast with butter and jam—you do have jam? In a separate serving dish, please. And another pot of hot water.”

  Johannes glanced up at the waiter. “Exactly the same, except a fresh cup of coffee for me.”

  As the waiter walked away, Johannes swiveled back to her, extending his free hand to where their fingertips were entwined, and covered her wrist.

  “I will share something but you must promise not to say a word to anyone. That means Rebecca, Reuben or anyone, ever.”

  Inga returned his stare with steady blue eyes. Johannes felt as if he could lose himself in those eyes.

  “You have my word, Johannes.

  “I was an officer, a captain in the heavy cavalry of the king of Denmark. I served honorably in several campaigns and was decorated. Perhaps I will share that story with you another time. It’s not important. What is important is that my father was also in the army. A few years after he was killed, I resigned my commission and I wandered spiritually and mentally…” Johannes bent his head. “…and physically. I am on this train only through a series of quirks. I’ve been with many women. I managed to get caught with the wife of a very high-ranking minister of the king’s inner circle.”

  “Johannes, you are squeezing my hand.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” He loosened his grip. “To compound matters, I was less than conciliatory and respectful to the minister. Through extreme good fortune I knew the magistrate who presided over my case; otherwise, I would be breaking rocks to construct the newest addition to the king’s castle, and I would not be sitting here with you, enchanted. Part of my sentence was never to speak of this. Reuben does not even know what country I am from, although he has attempted to elicit an answer from me on many occasions. So now you know of certain of my vices and my fall from grace.”

  Inga’s eyes misted slightly. “Johannes…we all have our past. In many ways this journey west is a new beginning for me, too.” Her face had a pained expression. She opened and shut her mouth several times as if in a search for words. “I must tell you…”

  At that moment an attractive young woman swished by the table, her hips swaying with slight exaggeration that swung the bottoms of her bright scarlet dress with black velvet trim from side-to-side.

  Johannes eyes followed her, “Why some women dress like that has always perplexed me. It simply makes them look like tarts.”

  Johannes looked back at Inga. A slight frown furled her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Inga. You were about to say?”

  Pulling her hand away from his, she glanced at the wall clock, “Only that I should be getting back to milady Marx. She is still grumbling about my extended absence last night, and she was none too pleased about our breakfast this morning.”

  Slapping his leg, Johannes laughed loudly. “The same reaction I had from Reuben but what do they know? I have a great idea,” he continued. “Reuben has a stubborn pride and I think without some devilish conspiracy between you and me, he might make an effort to avoid Rebecca once he knows for sure she is on the train. I will plan to bring him to the dining car at seven-thirty. Do you think you could lure Rebecca there shortly after that?”

  Inga’s tense expression relaxed slightly. “I’m quite sure I can.”

  “Want to have lunch with me? If the waiter will serve us again.”

  “I have a number of things to do for milady Marx today, Johannes but I will see you tonight.”

  Johannes felt it wise not to push. Inga still seemed troubled and her tone had changed perceptibly. He lifted his arm, bent his elbow, drew the back of her wrist to his lips and kissed it slowly. He was pleased that the pink color at her collarbones spread upward through her neck into her cheeks. He went behind her, slid out her chair and gave her arm a gentle squeeze as she rose.

  “See you tonight.”

  Inga smiled faintly back over her shoulder but said nothing.

  CHAPTER 30

  MARCH 6, 1855

  AUNT STELLA’S SHOP

  It was midmorning when Jacob awoke. His eyes fixed, unseeing, on the filthy brick of the tenement next door, barely visible through the grimy window. His violent tryst with Mary somehow only whetted his appetite for Sarah. I need to formulate a plan. I know the end goal; the trick will be getting there.

  Rising, he rummaged through his sparse belongings, picking out the cleanest clothes. “Samuel, you drunken son of a bitch, do you have a razor in this hole?”

  Hours later, holding a small bouquet he had stolen from a street side cart, he knocked on the side door of Sarah’s aunt’s sewing shop. He looked down at his hands, annoyed that his fingers were fussing with his shirt buttons. The door was opened by Sarah. A white linen blouse clung to her slender form, and a soft wool tweed skirt accentuated her waist, her petticoats adding flare to her hips. Her eyes were red and watery. She’s been crying. She stepped back, startled to see Jacob in the doorway.

  Jacob bowed slightly, “I was in the neighborhood. I thought you might like these.”

  She smiled cautiously, hesitating before she reached for the blossoms, “Why thank you, Jacob.”

  Looking past Sarah, Jacob rapidly surveyed the dress shop. The space, brightly lit from the storefront windows, was cluttered in a semi-organized fashion with fabrics and sewing materials. Several women were selecting materials and looked at drawings. Hats hung here and there and scraps of cloth decorated the cutting tables. A newfangled sewing machine nestled in one corner. A cozy business, though not highly successful.

  Sarah was silent. “May I come in?” he asked, his gaze returning to her.

  Looking quickly behind her, and then apprehensively back at him, she shook her head. “We are very busy, Jacob. I am not sure this is a good time.”

  The familiar angry tightness welled in Jacob but he forced himself to be pleasant. “Now Sarah, I have come a long way to say hello.”

  Aunt Stella, overhearing the conversation at the door, left an elderly patron with an “Excuse me; I’ll be right back,” and bustled over.

  “Aren’t you the kind man who helped my niece find her way here?”

  Bowing slightly again, Jacob took her hand and quickly brushed it to his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Stella blushed. “You flatter an old lady. Well, come in; come in. Sarah, why don’t you fix some tea? I have to get back to my customer and then I will join the two of you,” Aunt Stella’s voice trailed off. She floated cheerfully across the shop toward a frumpy older woman chirping, “Isn’t that a wonderful color? …”

  Jacob turned to Sarah. “I wanted to stop in and see how you were getting along.�
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  Her cheeks reddening, she bit her lower lip. “I’ve been helping my aunt and trying to get settled. Come in, I’ll make tea.”

  Settling himself uncomfortably in one of four small chairs in the alcove parlor off the main shop floor, he murmured “Thanks,” as Sarah handed him a small porcelain teacup. The tiny vessel was lost in his big hands.

  Taking the silver flask from his shirt pocket, he poured heartily into the cup. “Hope you don’t mind,” Slipping the flask back in her pocket, he leaned forward. “Something bothering you? You seem upset.”

  A tear ran down her cheek as she answered in a quavering voice, “It’s not quite what I expected. My aunt works very hard and the shop pays her living but there is simply not enough business for two here. I hate to be a burden. I’m really not sure what to do.”

  He regarded her carefully. I thought it would have taken longer than this, at least several visits. But O’Shannahan knows an opportunity when it arises. Keeping his voice soft and off hand, and his eyes locked with hers, he asked, “Have you heard anything about the West?”

  “You mean, St. Louis?”

  Jacob smiled. “No, Miss Sarah, further west than that—Las Coloradas, the western Kansas Territory, the Rocky Mountains.”

  “Oh, I’ve read about those. They are like the Alps.

  Aren’t there Indians? Are there any cities?”

  “I’ve talked to folks. There are small settlements, some forts far apart and there’s a place called Cherry Creek. It’s not like New York but it’s a big town in that part of the world. Things are just getting started there. I have a friend in the mining business. Did you know there’s gold out there?”

  Her eyebrows rose, and her eyes widened with interest. “There is?”

  “There is. Better yet, it’s a brand new land with lots of opportunity for people to build brand new lives. People like you and me.”

  Sarah blinked. “I have heard that St. Louis is growing rapidly. Are you asking me to go west with you?”

  To his dismay, Jacob found himself slightly flustered. Concentrating on his teacup, he shifted in his chair, then rose quickly, stepping to the edge of the alcove parlor. Staring out into the shop, he shoved his hands in his pockets.

  He turned to face her. “That hadn’t occurred to me. But, now that I hear of your situation, I thought I’d share what I’ve learned, friend to friend. I am going out there the end of the week—on Saturday, in fact. I’d be happy to make certain you arrive there safely. It’s not a journey a lady wants to make on her own even if you wish to go no further than St. Louis.”

  Sitting further back in her chair, she dropped her hands from her teacup and clasped them tightly in her lap. “How would that work?” Sarah’s voice was soft but with a suspicious edge.

  Jacob looked her in the eye, willing himself to keep his gaze steady. She does not trust me…yet. “I’m sure we could provide for separate arrangements. I would enjoy your company and I would protect you.”

  Avoiding Jacob’s stare, the redhead, turned her head toward the dress shop and Jacob followed her gaze. Her aunt was doing her best to convince the now solitary customer that a hideous blue taffeta was perfect for her.

  “How long would the trip to St. Louis take? How would we get there? I don’t have much savings.”

  “There’s ways to earn money along the way. We could chip in for common expenses and each of us would pay our own ticket for the train to St. Louis. That would be the cheapest, fastest and most comfortable way.”

  “What happens in St. Louis?” Sarah asked, staying focused on the alcove opening, as if in hope that Aunt Stella would arrive soon to rescue her.

  Jacob shrugged. “From there, the journey gets more difficult. If you wished to continue west, we could maybe tie in with a wagon train. We probably wouldn’t reach Cherry Creek until early summer.”

  Snapping her gaze away from the shop, her eyes widened. “Two or three months? But, how long just to St. Louis, Jacob?”

  “It’s a big country Miss Sarah, with big opportunity. I think the train takes four or five days from here to St. Louis, so your trip would be much shorter.” Jacob said slowly, emphasizing ‘your trip,’ knowing that any further push would merely heighten her resistance. One step at a time. “Well, think about it. Thank you for the tea. May I call on you tomorrow?”

  Standing, she pulled down the sides of her skirt with her hands then looked up and answered, “If you wish,” in a tone that lacked enthusiasm.

  Jacob bent slightly from the waist. “Tomorrow, then.”

  CHAPTER 31

  MARCH 6, 1855

  A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION

  As Jacob exited the shop, he waved and smiled at Stella.

  A customer left, and her aunt hustled back to the parlor. “What a nice young man. What did he want?”

  Sarah conveyed the conversation to her aunt.

  Stella was silent for a minute, apparent worry shadowing her eyes. “Oh, Sarah, I feel so bad. You have traveled so far. When I wrote that last letter before Thanksgiving, I was much busier but now there’s not enough business here to keep us both working. With this new Singer sewing machine, my increase in production has run headlong into a drop in business. This country and this city are very uncertain right now. The slavery issue, talk of war, the upheaval at city hall with the mayor having his own police force that fights with the other law enforcers—well, it all makes people reluctant to spend.” She sighed heavily.

  Looking down at her lap, Sarah blinked, fighting another of the waves of disappointment she had been contending with since her arrival.

  Shaking her head mournfully, and waving her hand at the shop, Stella continued, “One of the first things many seem to cut back on is finer clothing. You noticed right away that I no longer have an assistant.”

  “It’s fine, aunt, really. I understand. This is not of your doing. I will admit to you that for some reason, I have wanted to go west eventually. I read about St. Louis, even in England. It has grown eightfold or more in ten years, and they have even started laying railway tracks west of the Mississippi, though I understand there is no bridge yet.” Pouring more tea into her cup, Sarah paused, deep in thought. “Perhaps ‘eventually’ is now, Aunt Stella. Events transpire for a reason. Perhaps St. Louis is where I am meant to start my shop. I get the feeling, even in the few days I have been in America, that one has opportunity if one works hard and knows a trade. It is one of the reasons I so looked forward to coming here.”

  “You may be right, dear—there may be no better place to build a life and make something of yourself. But let us talk of the pragmatic. Would you be comfortable traveling with Jacob? Do you trust him? An unmarried woman traveling with a man is bold, even for these times.”

  “I have my reservations, Aunt, and no, honestly I don’t fully trust him but what’s the worst that could happen? He is rough and a bit odd but he has given me no indication that he is violent. Sharing traveling expenses would save money, and I will need every penny to establish myself in St. Louis. If matters become untenable, I can always part company and switch trains at one of the stops…,” Sarah pursed her lips, “and I know how to take care of myself. Father taught the whole family how to shoot a pistol. I have a revolver in the false bottom of my valise. I will hide the money I sent you the same way.”

  Aunt Stella shook her head. “This worries me, child. You will be alone with a strange man, though he does appear to be very nice. He does not seem rough to me. He brought you flowers…” she paused, her features tightening as she reached some decision in her mind, then continued “…but none of that is important. In thinking about it, I recommend you do not travel with him or any man. It is simply not proper.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she was silent again. Then she shook her head, “It is all my fault. It’s just not proper.” Stella fussed with the sugar cup and rearranged the teaspoons on the table. “I should accompany you.”

  Reaching over, Sarah patted Stella’s arm. “You and I k
now that you can’t make the trip. You have your life here—a business and customers who depend on you. The idea of my own shop intrigues me, and St. Louis is at the edge of the frontier. It must be very exciting, with many new people coming and going, all of whom have to have clothes. But I shall make no decision until I talk to Jacob tomorrow and you and I discuss the situation further. With Mother gone, your opinion, support and approval are very important to me.”

  Shaking her head sadly, Stella blinked back tears. “I have placed you in a terrible situation, niece. I am sorry. But please consider that nothing mandates you depart on Saturday, and the extra costs of traveling alone rather than sharing expenses cannot be that great.”

  Sarah noticed that her aunt moved more slowly, and had aged in many ways. They had not seen one another for years. It might well be another very long time until they could again spend an evening just talking. I do not want my own anxiety to interfere with the little time we have together. “I will weigh my alternatives carefully, aunt. Now, let’s make supper and chat. I shall tell you about Emily, and Mother and Father’s graves, side by side in a very beautiful corner of the city.”

  CHAPTER 32

  MARCH 6, 1855

  REUNION

  Reuben was engrossed in practice with his Colt revolver. His fascination with the weapon since first seeing it at Wiggins and Booraems had not diminished. The soft blue-gray of the barrel was perfectly offset by the pearl grip. A blend of art and power. He practiced drawing it from the Slim Jim, sometimes aiming with his arm extended, and at others sliding it quickly from the holster and pointing from belt level using his faint reflection in the window as the target.