by Kay Moser
Go in peace, my darling girl. Explore and learn, but never change. It would be a sin to change the perfection that you are.
When the summer is over, return home to the man who loves you, who knows and values the essential you, who refuses to ever give you up.
Always yours,
Lee
Sarah pressed the paper to her heart and turned her head toward the window so no one would see her tears. Outside, the barren, alien landscape of West Texas raced by. Each cactus, with its elongated, moon-cast shadow on the sand, was another marker of the distance she was traveling away from the man she loved. She knew nothing of war from personal experience, but she had heard veterans talk all her life, offering countless descriptions of the no-man’s-land between two armies lined up to fight. She felt she now traveled in such a space, leaving the familiar and beloved behind, racing toward undefined, unreliable experiences. She longed to arrive, to settle once and for all the question of whether she was racing toward fulfillment or had mistakenly left behind the best of her life.
“Life is motion. Life is change,” she murmured. I cannot stop the onward march of time. I chose to leave Riverford, to venture out into the world, to spend the summer with strangers in a new place. Dear God, thank You for going with me, and thank you for Lee. Thank you that the door between us is not closed.
She shut her eyes and concentrated on the steady meter of the turning wheels beneath her.
Sarah was shivering when she awoke from a fitful sleep, a strange sensation indeed to experience on a July night in Texas. She reached for the shawl, which had seemed so superfluous when she packed it, and gladly wrapped it around her shoulders. The moonlit sand outside the window had changed color, and it took Sarah a moment to realize that the sun was rising in the east behind the train. The stale air of the closed car and the enforced containment of the long, narrow, body-filled space turned Sarah’s stomach, and she rose, edged her way around Bert, and stumbled down the aisle. A porter sitting by the door jumped up and opened it for her.
“Just stand here, miss.” He pointed to the railed platform outside. “Take some deep breaths of the mountain air, and you’ll feel better.”
“Mountain air?” Sarah stared at the flat land flying by beneath her feet.
He raised his hand and pointed forward.
“Oh!” Sarah’s mouth flew open, and a smile broke out on her beleaguered face.
In spite of the loudness of the clacking wheels, she heard him laugh. He patted her gently on the shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine. Just hold on good and tight.” He turned and left her with the view of mounds in the distance that were fast rising out of the flatness to become hills and—as the sunlight increased and the train swept forward—finally mountains.
Sarah leaned over the railing as far as she dared and took deep breaths of the cold, dry air. I am coming to the end of my no-man’s-land. The clanging noise and the jolting, jerking movement of the train became her allies as they moved her forward to the battle line, and the goldening of the landscape by the rising sun encouraged her to think of victory.
CHAPTER 19
The train stopped at Raton, New Mexico, and Sarah was the first teacher off. She raced to the end of the platform and around the station building, eager to experience the Rocky Mountains up close. Oh my! There they were, abruptly soaring out of the valley that sheltered the town, dominating the sky, their sides so thickly covered with pointed trees and huge rocks they looked impassable. How will we ever get over them, or through them, or whatever we must do next?
“Hard to believe we’re gonna wrap around the sides of them mountains until we get over the pass, ain’t it?” A train engineer, his face spotted with soot, had walked up behind her and was staring at the mountains as he lit his pipe. “Don’t you worry none, miss. I’ve taken this here train up that mountainside many a time.” He laughed. “’Course, I ain’t never taken a trainload of lady teachers before, but I guess that don’t make no difference. The engine’s gotta make the same climb no matter who’s riding behind her.”
“Are we really going up those mountains?”
“Not straight up.” He shook his head. “We’ll do a pack of winding, kinda picking our way up slowly, but we’ll get to the top just the same. That there is Raton Pass, and this here is the front range of the Rockies. People been using this pass to migrate from the flatland over to the high valley for centuries. ’Course most of them walked, but we ain’t got time for that these days.” He laughed again. “We’ll make it. Don’t you worry. Now you better get back and grab you some breakfast; we ain’t stopping long. Gotta get you ladies to Boulder, to that new place they call ‘Texado Park’ ’fore the sun sets tonight.”
“Will we really be able to go that far today?”
“Oh yeah. See, this ain’t no regular train; we ain’t gonna make no stops ’long the way. It’ll be mighty slow climbing through the pass, but then we’ll roll ’long real fast ’cause it’s flat on the other side. Real pretty, though. Mountains’ll be just strung out all along the left side of the train. You’ll see.”
And Sarah did indeed see.
As the train began to labor up the pass at considerably reduced speed, Sarah stood on the outside platform and contemplated the first fir trees she had ever seen. Her eyes traveled up, up, up the cylinder shapes which towered over her and pointed to heaven. The clarity of the air intensified the colors around her: the sky was the bluest she had ever experienced; the fir trees were the deepest green she had ever seen. The grainy gray rock walls—the very sides of the mountain—had been chiseled to produce a ledge just wide enough for the narrow tracks. Down below, appearing smaller as they climbed, a wide creek rushed over huge boulders, throwing white spray into the air as it bounded down to the flatland.
The other teachers remained inside the car. Some even pulled down the window shades and buried their noses in books rather than acknowledge the precariousness of the present leg of the journey. Sarah, by contrast, could not force herself back inside. She leaned across the railing and stared ahead at the steep climb, exulting in the height they were attaining and imagining what the top would bring.
When the brave engine finally reached the summit, it stopped, and the engineer celebrated with a blast of the whistle. The teachers were invited to exit the cars and climb a small rise, from which they could see layer after layer of mountain peaks, some topped with snow, lining up all the way to the horizon. Amidst all the exclamations surrounding her, Sarah remained silent; she could find no words grand enough for the view. And the height which made the other women shiver with fear thrilled Sarah. This is what I want life to be! An exhilarating struggle upward as high as I can go … the ecstasy of reaching the top.
“All aboard!” the conductor called, and the whistle blew.
“Will you stay outside?” Bert asked as the others entered the car. “We will only be descending into a wide valley now.”
Sarah laughed. “Only? It is the descent that will show me just how high we’ve been.”
“I suspect, Sarah, that you have only begun to make dramatic climbs.”
The train wound its way down the other side of the pass until it reached the high valley which skirted the foot of the front range of the Rockies on the left. To the right, golden-grassed, rolling plains stretched to the horizon. The winding creek continued to frolic near them, the rapids throwing themselves against massive, immovable rocks.
An hour later, Bert dragged Sarah back inside the car to share a huge kettle of tea made by the conductor. Once Sarah found her seat again, she realized that she was quite tired.
“It’s the altitude, miss,” the porter informed her. “Takes a day or two to adjust. Ain’t as much oxygen available up here.”
“But we’ve come down from the pass.”
He chuckled. “We’ve come down to about four thousand feet, nothing like the three hundred you’re used to. You just sit there and watch the mountains from the window. They’re gonna string along with us all
the way to Boulder. If I’s you, I’d consider a nap.”
“I couldn’t possibly sleep! I’ve never seen mountains before.”
“Plenty of mountains ahead; you ain’t gonna miss ’em.”
Sarah settled back against the seat, mug of tea in hand, and happily sipped as the mountain range continued to present its unique shapes and shades. Most often it was dark green, covered with evergreen trees, but occasionally accented with giant rocks, which turned from flat gray to pinky-mauve as the sun rose and splashed across their granite surfaces. At times a magnificent, snow-covered peak towered over the closer mountains, its icy white a hard line against the vivid blue sky. Sarah opened the window a bit, content to have the crisp, cool air bathe her face. Amazing! Cool, dry air in July. So relaxing to rock along … She closed her eyes and slipped into slumber.
She awoke when Bert shook her shoulder.
“We’re coming into Colorado Springs. Conductor says we have twenty minutes to stretch our legs and grab a sandwich.”
“Colorado Springs! That’s not far at all from Boulder.”
“He says we’ll arrive about five o’clock this afternoon since we won’t do more than slow down in Denver. I’m sure glad the railroad organized this special train for us; otherwise this trip would have taken three days.”
Her stomach rumbling when she descended the steps of the car, Sarah followed the crowd to the vendors’ stands and ordered a ham sandwich, which was tossed together and wrapped in brown paper by the attendant. The sheer weight of the package convinced Sarah they were accustomed to serving incoming miners.
Rather than eat, she wandered around, stretching her legs. Snatches of a heated speech floated toward her.
“We are charting a new course just like Columbus. Only we’re making our new world, not just discovering it. We come as conquerors of the old order, as creators of a new, better one.”
Sarah walked toward the voice until she stood next to Bert and saw Kelly standing on a wooden box, her arm held high, her pointed finger jabbing at the sky as she continued, “No one is going to stop us. We are fed up, finished with this patriarchal society. Who do they think they are—treating us as if we have no brains? If we are clever enough to teach their children—”
“That’s Kelly,” Bert informed her. “The most rabid suffragette I’ve ever met.”
“I know. I met her when we stopped in Amarillo.”
Bert sighed. “We’ll be hearing her kind for the next six weeks … not that they don’t have a point, but their methods … I don’t know ...”
Sarah turned and walked away, preferring exercise of the body to shouts of indignation from this Kelly woman. Far too soon, the shrill train whistle called Sarah to board again. Once she settled in her seat and the train wheels began their slow, cumbersome turns, she watched the busy station, so full of people with different opinions and life experiences, slide by. The outskirts of Colorado Springs, row after row of shanties, soon gave way to the open range with the continuing string of mountains. Sarah welcomed the monotony of the clacking wheels and rhythm of the swaying car. Her recent experience with nature on top of Raton Pass had heightened her sense of the spiritual, and she wanted time to think. She chose to ignore the discord of the human voices in the car, especially the rancor of Kelly’s voice at the other end. I began this journey thinking I wanted to experience every new thing presented, but now I see that I must choose and control my focus.
CHAPTER 20
Much to Sarah’s disappointment, the train turned eastward as it approached Denver several hours later, heading out onto a flat plain and leaving the mountain range behind. The teachers were encouraged to keep their seats as the train slowed and glided through Denver and its station without stopping, but when the train left Denver behind, Sarah could not force herself to sit still. She hurried to the outside platform and leaned forward, eager to gain her first view of Boulder, which she hoped would be close to the mountains. The train snaked through flat, arid land and began to mount a hill. When it reached the summit, Sarah’s eyes widened in amazement. A green valley spread before her, containing a small town nestled up against the foot of mountains that rose to the clouds. While the train raced downhill, Sarah tried to count the layers of peaks, many covered with snow, which provided the backdrop of the small town. As they descended, the back layers disappeared from sight, and the front range of mountains loomed.
“Sarah!” Bert leaned out the door of the car and yelled at her. “Come gather your things. The conductor says we only have a few more minutes.”
Sarah reluctantly returned to her seat and scrambled in her carpet bag as she arranged her possessions and searched for her trunk ticket. When the train slowed, Sarah saw lines of mule-drawn wagons, carriages, and several stagecoaches waiting.
“Oh my goodness. It’s going to be frantic when we stop, isn’t it? Will I be able to send a telegram to Riverford?”
“Absolutely not,” Bert declared. “But I’m sure the organizers have a plan for that. After all, everyone will want to send messages home. Now, where in the name of heaven is Ella? Oh, never mind. I’ve got more important things to worry about.” She stood and raised her voice. “Attention, Fort Worth teachers! We must stay together. When the train stops, follow me. Our boxes will be unloaded from the train and placed on wagons for the trek up to Texado Park. We will ride together in two stagecoaches. If you get separated, look for the Fort Worth placards on the sides of the stagecoaches. Some of you younger teachers may have to ride on the top.”
Possessing every intention of being one of the lucky ones who rode on top, Sarah took her filmy veil and tied her hat onto her head. The train ground to a halt, and teachers poured out onto the station platform from all the cars. When Sarah reached the platform herself, Bert’s commanding voice rose above the chaos. “Follow me, ladies! Fort Worth teachers, forward!”
Bert waved an unopened umbrella in the air like a general signaling her troops. Sarah stepped forward into a crush of people, but she followed the umbrella and soon found herself at the designated stagecoach.
“Do you think you can ride on top, Sarah?” Bert asked.
“You forget, Bert, I grew up on a farm.” She hiked up her linen skirt and began climbing. The other teachers cheered, and a few followed her lead.
Bert counted heads, and satisfied with the number, shouted at the drivers. “Let’s go! Fort Worth teachers always lead the way!” She stepped up into the coach and slammed the door behind her. The stagecoach lurched forward so violently Sarah grabbed the railing to hang on.
They soon left the unpaved, ordered streets of Boulder behind and began to mount a steep incline on a deeply rutted, winding road. Ahead of them, Sarah saw an empty, bald, dry hillside, but when she shaded her eyes from the sun, she could just make out two large, white buildings and a tent city at the base of the mountains. She stared up in amazement at the towering mountains. Each was faced with a massive rock that stood on end, jutting beyond the top of the mountain itself, appearing to pierce the sky. Sarah had only seen the great cathedrals with their towers shooting skyward in books, but she felt certain that no man-made edifice, no matter how revered, had ever compared to these mountains. The closer they approached, the more certain Sarah became that God must have taken each of those enormous, iron-shaped rocks and slammed it against the side of the mountain He had chosen for it.
When the stagecoaches reached the entrance to Texado Park, Sarah looked farther up the hill and saw the large wooden auditorium—flags flying from its four corners—intended to host the weeks of speeches and concerts ahead. Slightly below it and to the right she saw the dining hall.
Bert checked the Fort Worth teachers in and received their tent assignments before the stagecoaches and wagons labored farther up the hill, past the dining hall and auditorium, until they reached row after row of tents raised on wooden platforms. Sarah was thrilled to discover that the tent she would occupy with Bert and Ella sat on the edge of the encampment with its back to the mag
nificent mountains. She scrambled down and raced ahead of anyone else into the makeshift structure. She found that curtains divided the tented, large wooden platform into three six-by-nine compartments. Each compartment included the furniture which Bert had rented for them—a narrow iron bedstead, a washstand, and a rocking chair.
“I’ll take the middle compartment, which opens to the outside, so I’ll be more available to the Fort Worth teachers who will be dropping by,” Bert announced. “You two will have more privacy in the side compartments. Sarah, you take the right side; Ella, you’re on the left. Now, if we turn these bedsteads flat against the back wall of the tent, we can open up the curtains during the day, and by joining the empty space of our compartments, we’ll have a decent size sitting area. All we need to do is turn our rocking chairs into a semi-circle, rustle up a table somehow, and we’ll be quite comfortable. Let’s get to it so we can unpack.”
Sarah rushed forward to help as Bert grabbed one end of a bedstead, but Ella made no move. She stood at the edge of the platform, wringing her hands. “Are we really expected to sleep here? Won’t it be dangerous?”
Bert straightened and gave her a hard look. “Not if we use common sense. For heaven’s sake, Ella, we’ve traveled almost a thousand miles to experience fascinating adventures, as well as gain a wealth of knowledge to take back to our students. You’re surely not going to be deterred by a tent! Now, lend a hand.”
Ella hurried forward, and the three of them arranged the furniture as Bert had ordered, then unloaded their boxes and Sarah’s trunk. They had each brought their own bedding, a plate, a mug, silverware, a lantern, candlestick and candles as instructed by the pamphlet sent to them by the organizers. Bert burst out laughing when Sarah pulled a linen tablecloth complete with napkins and a small oriental rug from her box.
Sarah grinned at her. “Victoria,” was all she said as she turned back to the box and produced a silver teapot and a large tin of Frances’ teacakes.
