Far Away Home

FAR
AWAY HOME

by

Susan
Denning

No
Limit Press

Copyright © 2006 by Susan
Denning

First edition printed 2009;
second edition 2010, third edition 2011

All rights reserved. No part of
this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical
means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission
in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief
passages in a review.

No Limit Press

PO Box 284

Mendham, NJ 07945

Email address:
[email protected]

Website:
www.nolimitpress.com

This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events and locales is entirely
coincidental.

ISBN 978-0-692-00039-7

Library of Congress control
number 2008911151

Printed in the USA

This
book is for TD and Timmy,

for
all you are and all you have given me.

FAR
AWAY HOME

Chapter 1

September, 1867

New York City

“You don't
belong here, Aislynn Denehy,” Jimmy Tully shouted. “ 'Tis a man’s meeting.”

While the huddle
of men surrounding him voiced their agreement, Aislynn pointed to the
announcement tacked to the church door. She addressed them collectively, “The
sign says everyone is welcomed in the West.”

“Everyone who’s
not a woman,” Jimmy replied.

Aislynn knew
each man and through all her sixteen years, made it a habit to dismiss their
good-natured taunts. Yet as she approached the Parish Hall, she saw they were
correct; the entryway was clogged with men. Spying a woodpile, she dragged a
log to the door and stood it on its end. Holding the doorframe, she hoisted
herself up and surveyed the sea of masculinity. The bare-beamed room seethed
with the unemployed and the adventurous. Some greeted each other, shaking hands
and slapping backs, while others elbowed and nudged their way through
conversations punctuated by outbursts of laughter and amiable insults. The
smell of sweat and ale drifted toward her on a thin cloud of cigar smoke.
Aislynn’s eyes searched the throng.

On the stage, a
dark-haired man stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat. “May I have
your attention?”

The sound of the
speaker’s voice quieted the crowd.

“Gentlemen, my
name is Liam Moran, and I am so glad to see you all here tonight. My colleagues
and I have come to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime, the chance to go
west. The chance to be a part of a new world, a new way of life, the chance to
fulfill your dreams.”

Moran exhorted
the gathering like a preacher. “You,” his arms stretched out as he roared, “all
you Irish, you’ve dug the canals for a pauper’s wage. You’ve built this city
and gained little more than your broken backs.”

With narrowed
eyes and a sneer across his lips, he jabbed his cigar at the audience, “You
fought the great Civil War. You freed the slaves. Now they’ve come north and
taken your jobs. I’ve been around. I’ve seen the signs, ‘No Irish need apply.’
” Moran leaned on the podium and scanned the assemblage, “The War’s been over
for two years. What did you get for all your efforts? You earn three hundred
dollars a year, a mere pittance! Is that why you and your fathers came to these
shores?”

He straightened
and paused until the murmuring died down. “You see these men?” His hands swept
toward the speakers seated at the long table behind him. “They’re rich,
wealthy. Do you know how they got rich? They went west, to the great American
West. They cashed in on the abundance of natural resources just waiting for a
man with a dream. Why, the forests are so thick the trees are falling down by
themselves. The ground is so fertile you just have to scatter seeds and watch
them grow. There’s grass everywhere just waiting for cattle to graze.”

A buzz of
excitement rose from the audience. Moran motioned the crowd closer as his voice
became softer, “And, of course, there are precious minerals just floating in
the streams, hinting at the lodes below the surface, waiting to be struck.”

After a pause to
catch his breath, Moran continued in a solemn tone. “This nation is ready to
explode again. Not into war this time. No, it’s going to explode with
expansion. That expansion is going to move on a bed of rails that’s fixing to
run clear across this continent. When it does, that ribbon of rails is going to
tie our ranching, logging, mining, and farming to all the big markets. You,” he
called, waving his cigar, “you can be a part of it. Now, my associates will
step up and tell you about the opportunities they have to offer. They’ll pay
your fare, give you a decent wage, and all you have to do in return is give
them a year of solid work.”

As soon as the
last speaker completed his sales pitch, a mass of men pressed toward the stage
to volunteer. One burly young man with broad shoulders bulging under his worn
shirt approached Aislynn. Hands on hips and a hint of sarcasm in his voice, he
demanded, “What brings you here?”

“I brought
myself, Johnny Maher,” she replied, as he eyed her. Aislynn liked Johnny and
his constant pursuit flattered her. She found him agreeable and good-humored.
Although his round face always brightened for Aislynn, his looks did not appeal
to her. Fair and freckled, he was too big and bulky for Aislynn’s taste.

“This is no
place for a girl.”

Aislynn sighed
with frustration. “The sign says everyone is welcomed in the West. Didn’t the
speakers say it’s the land of equal opportunity?”

“I guess any
place asking for Irish would take women, too.”

Aislynn had to
smile knowing the stigma they all bore. Regardless of their looks, intelligence
or talents, they felt the sting of discrimination. It was one of the things
binding them together and driving them west.

Johnny
continued, “But I didn’t hear them offerin’ any women’s work.”

“I’ll just have
to find work on my own.”

“I suspect you
just want to follow Tim Nolan wherever he goes.”

“Is he here?”
Aislynn tried to sound calm.

“Seems
everyone’s here.”

“Did you see
Tim?” Aislynn asked pointedly.

Johnny looked
over the crowd, “No, but I’m sure he’s here; he’s unemployed like the rest.”
Returning his gaze to Aislynn, he stated, “If you’re goin’ west, you’d be
better off travelin’ with a man like me. I might not have the mind of Tim
Nolan, but I’ve a sturdy back and strong hands and from what I hear, they’re
far more valuable in the West.”

“I don’t believe
Mr. Moran or any of those men up there got rich with their big fists, Johnny
Maher!”

“Aye, so it’s
money you’re wantin’?” He leaned closer, “Let’s combine our talents. We could
go far.”

Blushing,
Aislynn replied, “I am not interested in going where you want to go.”

Johnny guffawed.
“We’ll see, Aislynn Denehy. When Tim marries Emma Greene, you’ll come lookin’
for me,” Johnny stated. “Bein’ the fool I am, I’ll be waitin’. If I’m
dismissed, your Royal Highness, I’ll take my leave.” Johnny lifted her hand to
his lips saying, “ ‘Til we meet again, your Majesty.”

Snapping her
fingers from his grip, she suppressed a smile and ordered, “Oh, just go.”

As Johnny
departed, Aislynn glanced toward the action on the stage and saw Moran eyeing
her. When he rose to the podium, Aislynn noticed he was attractive, for an
older man, tall, well-built, with hair as black as hers combed back from his
face, which was decorated with an equally dark mustache and closely-trimmed
beard. The darkness of his hair set off his light blue eyes, giving him an
almost sinister look. He seemed a man who could make a pact with the devil
confident he could retract his pledge when it suited him. Aislynn thought it
unseemly for a man twice her age to look at a girl of sixteen in this way. She
turned her gaze away from him, but movement in his direction brought Aislynn’s
eyes back. She saw Tim approach Moran.

“No!” she
screamed. Her tiny voice could not penetrate the din. She jumped down from her
perch and tried to push her way through the tangle of men who smelled of hard
work and limited means. They were packed tightly up against the stage. She
attempted to squeeze through small gaps between elbows and legs, pleading,
“Pardon me. Excuse me. I have to get through, please.” The hoop in her skirt
slowed her progress. It needed space, and the men were reluctant to yield any.
When some men stepped aside, it would snag on the others who were pressing to
get ahead.

She slowly
advanced through the mass of men, reaching the stage as Tim was shaking hands
with Moran. “Tim!” she called.

Tim’s head
jerked in the direction of her voice. “Aislynn?” A puzzled look crossed his
face, but it quickly changed to a smile. He extended his hand to her, “Come
meet my new employer.”

Chapter 2

Aislynn hurried
out of the Parish Hall with tears flooding her eyes. Scurrying down the
sidewalk, her pace slowed when she reached the front of the church. From
behind, she heard Tim calling her name, “Aislynn, stop! Aislynn!” She
recognized his tone, and it indicated she should obey. 

Aislynn turned
and cried, “You’re going?”

Tim grabbed her
arm and led the reluctant Aislynn to the church stairs. “Sit,” he commanded. It
was darker and cooler in the stone portico. The steps felt damp. The church
doors were sealed, and the smell of the old wood and moist stone filled the
entryway. Seated, she turned and glared into his bright blue eyes. 

“We were
supposed to go together, and now you’re going by yourself.”

Tim wiped the
tears from her cheeks and said, “Aislynn, I have to find work.”

“You said we’d
make our fortune together.”

“Things change.”

“You let them
change.”

“Aislynn, I
didn’t cause the war or the lack of jobs. I feel like I just returned from the
war; do you think I want to go away again?”

“You made a
promise.”

Tim searched her
eyes, “Surely I’ve kept my promise. We were children then, and you needed me.
Now, I’m grown, and you’re,” he hesitated, “you’re almost grown.” Aislynn
straightened, trying to look taller than her five feet. He continued, “Let’s
not fight, Aislynn. I have to go. I have no future here.”

Tears rose in
Aislynn’s eyes. “What about me and my future?”

“You’ll be fine.
You have your father, my father and all my brothers to take care of you.”

“In truth, I
take care of them and you.”

“You’re right.
I’ll suffer your absence more than you’ll suffer mine." Tim stood and
pulled Aislynn to her feet. “Now, stop this crying. Run on and get dinner.” Tim
planted a quick kiss on her head and turned her in the direction of home. “I’ve
got to tell Emma.”

Aislynn’s
sadness switched to anger.
Emma, what does he see in such a frail bird of a
girl?
Hearing a commotion coming from the street behind her, Aislynn made
an about-face. Three exquisite carriages, with groomed horses clopping their
hooves and jangling their ornate harnesses, pulled up to the curb. The speakers
clambered in. As the carriages jerked forward, wheels grinding on the cobbles,
Aislynn’s eyes caught Moran’s. His glance slowly swept down her body and up
again. She felt her face redden. Reflexive modesty caused her arms to cross
over her breasts. Giving him her back, she walked toward Worth Street.

Aislynn found
her father seated at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and waiting to be
fed. The tiny, yellow kitchen, so bright in the daylight, was dim and shadowy
under the glow of a single oil lamp suspended from the ceiling. The fire in the
stove had faded. Although the wood was stacked within easy reach, neither her
father nor any of the Nolan men would deign to feed the flames. “ 'Tis woman’s
work,” they would declare, and for the past eight years, Aislynn, the only
female between the two families, was responsible for all chores falling into
that category: washing, ironing, mending, marketing, cooking and anything else
they deemed fit only for a woman. Aislynn stirred the stew and let the sweet,
sour scent of bacon with red cabbage, onions, apples and potatoes fill the air.

Her father sat
up and filled his lungs with the aroma. “You’re a wizard; you are, my sweet
daughter. Are we ready to eat?”

“In a few
minutes.” While Aislynn had his attention, she planned to use it. Seating
herself at the wooden table, she asked, “Da, do you remember how we used to
talk about going west, getting a ranch so you could breed horses?”

“Aye, the dreams
of my youth.”

“You’re still
young, Da.”

“Not so young as
all that. I know I talked, but that’s all it was.”

“Couldn’t we
think about going west again?”

“Aislynn, you
can’t just start walkin’ toward the settin’ sun, you know. You’d have to cross
the Hudson River, and you can’t swim,” he joked.

“Da, I’m
serious.”

“Are you, then?
Well, give some serious thought to the cost of such an adventure. You’d have to
buy a wagon and some horses and provisions. Why, you’d need hundreds of dollars
just to leave New York. And how would we buy land and horses once we got to
wherever we’re goin'?”

“Money,
everything comes down to money. I hate it.”

“You’d not hate
it if you had it.” He patted her hand.

“And how will we
ever get it?”

“Are we doin’ so
poorly, daughter? I’ve steady work, and you’ve a roof and food.”

“I’m not
complaining, Da. I just wish for more, like our own house, and I’d work for
it.”

“Ha, there’s no
work for men and even less for women. That’s why Tim’s gone to the meetin’.” A
look of recognition spread over Brendan’s face. “I know what you’re about. You
want to follow Tim.”

“We always
planned to go west.” Aislynn fought her tears. “Now, he’s going alone.”

Aislynn leaned
on the table and cradled her chin in her hands. “We were supposed to be
partners for life.”

“Oh girl, Tim’s
been a fine friend since the day you were born, but it’s time he went his way
and you went yours.”

“And what’s my
way? I’ve planned my whole life around Tim.”

Scowling,
Brendan warned, “You can’t live your life for someone else. You have to follow
your own road, hard as that may be, and it can be hard. I know that. But here,
in this country, you have a chance.”

Aislynn could
hear the anger in his voice. When Brendan thought of his homeland, it raised
the dark specters of troubling times. “In Ireland, we starved; we had nothing.
Couldn’t dig a hole for shelter or eat dirt ‘cause the English claimed all the
land.”

His eyes
narrowed, and she could feel his entire body grow taut. “We had no rights. They
made the rules and enforced them as they would. Here, there’s a place for us.
All those people who call us names won’t be sayin’ such things forever. In this
country, we make strides with every generation. You’re a part of that. You were
born here. You and your children will have American stories, and they’ll be
better than any sorrowful Irish tales. At the end, you will be strong and
independent, and no one will hold you down or deny you freedom.”

Aislynn leaned
across the table and challenged him. “And how much freedom extends to a woman?”

Brendan thought
for a moment, “That’s why you need a man, a man who’ll respect you and give you
what you need.”

“I can get what
I need myself.”

“Ha, a woman
needs a man, love. You know what they say, ‘A woman without a man ain’t a
woman.’ ”

“And do I get to
decide which man?”

“Of course you
do,” Brendan paused, “as long as I agree.”

“Da, you talk of
independence and freedom, and then, you don’t give them to me.”

“ 'Tisn’t me
Aislynn, 'tis a man’s world. You know that. You can’t make your way in it
alone.”

“Well, if I have
to have a man, I want Tim. I’ll find some work, and we’ll get money and a
home.”

“Now daughter,
at sixteen, you think marriage is all love and romance but at twenty-six, when
you’ve babes to feed, you’ll not want a man who reads and talks about ideas
like Tim; you’ll want a man who can provide for you.”

The words “babes
to feed” made Aislynn a bit queasy. She had minimal knowledge about
reproduction. At the Church of the Transfiguration School, she learned the
three “Rs” and how to speak and behave like a proper American, but there were
many unasked and consequently, unanswered questions. With no woman to query,
Aislynn remained ignorant and preferred not to think about that part of
marriage.

“Now, take
Johnny Maher,” Brendan offered. “Hasn’t he been askin’ after you?”

Aislynn lowered
her hands and sent a sour expression his way.

Brendan
persisted, “He’s a good man. Didn’t waste his time in the war gettin’ shot at.
Oh no, he learned a trade, and a good trade smithin’ is.”

“He lied to
enlist; he was too young to fight.”

“There’s no
shame in that. He wanted to serve his country. It wasn’t his fault they found
out and pushed him to the back of the lines with the farriers. It was his good
fortune. Shows he’s lucky.” Brendan winked, “A lucky Irishman, imagine that.”

“Da,” Aislynn
tried to object.

“He’s makin’
good money and supportin’ his dear, widowed mother and that deaf sister of
his.”

“How is it you
know so much about Johnny Maher?”

“He’s been courtin’
me for months. Been buyin’ me draughts every night.”

“Then you marry
him.”

“Don’t you be
fresh with your Da. Goodness, when these boys know how saucy you are, I may
never get you married!”

“Fine, I’ll make
my own way in life.”

The scent of the
boiling stew reached the Nolans in their apartment across the hall. It signaled
dinnertime. Their arrival and their greetings brought her conversation with her
father to a close. Each man took a seat around the table, and Aislynn served
them as custom dictated, her father first, then Papa Nolan. With young Frank
married and living apart from the family, twenty-eight-year-old Sean was next
in seniority, then Michael, followed by Brian. The men wiped their plates with
the buttermilk biscuits Aislynn had baked as Tim arrived. Just seeing his sweet
face and golden hair made Aislynn smile. She watched him take his place at the
table and rushed to prepare his plate.

“Well, how did
it go at the hall?” Papa Nolan asked.

“I had great
success. The man I approached has a vast ranch in Utah.” The men nodded their
approval as Tim talked on. “He has interests in timber and the railroads, the
Central Pacific to be exact.”

“Sounds
wealthy,” Brendan interjected.

“Very. He was
looking for ranch hands.” This caused laughter from Tim’s audience. Although
Tim was built tall and strong, everyone in the room knew he was more cerebral
than physical. “I know, I’ll never be a bronco buster, but I mentioned I hoped
to earn enough money to attend college. He asked about my skills with figures.
I told him I have a talent for mathematics. He said he needed someone to check
his accounts and be his paymaster. I said, ‘I’m your man. I’m good with sums,
and I’m honest. Ask any man here and he’d vouch for my integrity.’ So I’m off
to Utah.”

Sean interrupted,
“Utah, you say? Do you know you can have as many wives as you want in Utah? You
could have a dozen wives.”

“Oh, no, Sean,”
Tim replied derisively, “I don’t think the law applies to us.”

Sean challenged
him, “And why not?”

“First off,
we’re Catholic, in case you’ve forgotten. It’s a Mormon rule. And secondly, I
can’t afford one wife,” holding up his index finger, “what would I do with a
dozen?”

Michael, the
contrary middle brother, replied, “I could think of a dozen things you could do
with a dozen wives but not all at the same time.”

A palpable
silence followed Michael’s remark. His brothers’ eyes darted from their
father’s to Aislynn’s Da. Michael, unlike his four tall, fair brothers, was
short, dark, and disagreeable. Papa Nolan upbraided Michael for being crude in
front of Aislynn.

Undaunted, Sean
continued, “I still think it would be wonderful. Imagine having twelve women to
wait on you all the time.”

Brian added,
“Sean, you can’t get one woman to marry you. How would you get a dozen?”

As the group
laughed at Sean, Tim rose from the table and brought his empty mug to Aislynn
quietly standing at the stove, listening to the banter. With one hand on her
shoulder, he said, “Sean, you’re imagining all the women in Utah have the green
eyes and pretty, little face of our Aislynn; when in truth, I hear most of them
closely resemble Michael.” He ruffled Michael’s brown hair to everyone’s
amusement but Michael’s.

“And it would be
my luck to get twelve of them.”

Aislynn knew
what lay beneath the joking. Humor masked their pain and their losses. When
things like long, possibly interminable separations were too difficult to
discuss, the subject would be relegated to jokes. The Nolan men and Aislynn’s
Da did not cry. Laughter substituted for tears.

“So when do you
go, son?” Brendan asked.

“Tomorrow, I
take the night train out of Hoboken.”

“Tomorrow?”
Aislynn could not contain her disappointment. The men could see her tears
rising. Brendan stood and announced he had to meet a friend at the pub. Papa
Nolan concurred. Sean, Michael and Brian headed for the door, as well. Tim
returned to his chair and told Aislynn to take a seat.

“Mr. Moran said
I had to leave tomorrow, before winter sets in and the way is impassable.”

“But it’s so
soon.”

“I know,
Aislynn, but this is a wonderful opportunity, and I have to take it.”

Tears slipped
down her face. “So I’m left here. What am I to do?”

“You write to me
regularly, long detailed letters, so I don’t feel so far away from all I love.”

Aislynn sensed
his sadness. She suddenly realized he was not simply leaving her. It was like
the war all over again. He was the one going far from home, alone, in harm’s
way. Aislynn felt ashamed of her selfishness. “How can I help?”

“You can help me
pack my meager belongings. But, right now, you might cut my hair. I don’t know
when I’ll have the chance again.”

With the
barbering finished, Aislynn sat at the table across from him holding a snip of
his hair. She opened her locket and extracted her mother’s black ringlet. Under
his despondent gaze, she twined them together and said, “Our bond is tighter
than blood; we are bound by the history of the life we’ve shared.”