Far Away Home (22 page)

Aislynn lay in
bed, her mind turning over the events of the day. She heard movement above her.
Johnny’s distinctive creaking came down the ladder. As the lamp flared up, he
called her from her bed.

She rose and
found him spreading some papers on the table. “What on earth are you doing?”
she queried.

“I want to show
you somethin’.”

While Aislynn
looked at the drawings, Johnny explained, “They’re plans for a house.”

Her interest
piqued; she took the seat across from him and let him describe his vision. The
plan showed a first floor with a kitchen, parlor, bedroom and a room for
bathing. An incredible three bedrooms covered the second floor.

“We have to have
a room for my mother and my sister. I’d like our girls to have a room separate
from their brothers.” He tapped the drawing of the first floor bedroom, “We
should have some privacy.”

Aislynn’s
stomach flipped, and her face burned red. Her “Oh” was weak and wavering.

“I know you
still have… reservations, but we could get a loan on the smithy and the cabin,
and with the money I have saved, we could rebuild the restaurant and put up the
house.”

Aislynn could not look at him. Outside their pool of light, the cabin
seemed to grow darker, the night’s stillness louder. Speaking to the paper, she
gently expressed her apprehension and hesitance, “Johnny, you know how very
fond I am of you.”

“Yes, I know.” He replied flatly and began rolling up his plans. “Let’s
go to bed.”

She could hear his dwindling patience and felt her own increasing
anxiety. “Johnny?” she whined.

“Go to bed. I’ll get the lamp.”

Aislynn snuggled down into her feather mattress sorting through her confused
feelings. She felt sorry for putting him off; however, she was relieved that he
had allowed it. In the darkness, she heard him moving about. She pulled the
quilt up, but, within seconds, Johnny pulled it down. He climbed onto the cot
and stretched out next to her.

Chapter 22

Aislynn recoiled until the wall stopped her retreat. “What are you
doing?”

“Goin’ to bed.”

“Not here,” she asserted.

Johnny pulled her close and her hands flew between them, falling on his
bare chest. Her entire body jerked away from his nakedness. He whispered,
“Aislynn, I want you to put your arms around my neck and kiss me.”

“I can’t.”

“Aislynn,” he rested his forehead on hers. “Everyone is afraid of
something.”

“What could you be afraid of?”

“Wantin’ you this much and never bein’ able to have you.”

She heard his ultimatum. With her “Yes” or “No,” she knew their lives
were going to change. A barrage of memories assaulted her. She could not sort
them; however, they brought recollections of caring and consideration.

Under her hands, she felt the strength of his heart beating and
remembered the last time she had touched his bare chest. His heartbeat had been
nearly imperceptible. With intense trepidation, she slowly reached her arms
around his neck and brushed her lips against his. She could feel the relief
pass through him. He rested his head on her arm for a moment. She lay still,
hoping he would drift off to sleep.

His hand came up and plucked at the ties of her nightdress. Her eyes
strained in the darkness to watch his progress, an unnecessary effort since she
knew the exact location of his hand. When his electric fingers slipped into her
gown, she jolted from the shock.

“I’m sorry, Angel. My skin’s rough.” He turned his hand over and stroked
her breast with the softer side. Johnny began kissing her, and she discovered
the desire to kiss him back. His mouth traveled down her neck and replaced his
hand, while his hand wandered farther down her body. As he caressed the inside
of her thighs, her hips found movement and pressed against him. Aislynn was
embarrassed that she seemed to be burrowing under him but had no will to stop.
Her world shrank to the size of her cot, a world like a warm river, flowing
slowly. She realized Johnny could give her what she needed, and, suddenly, what
she needed was what she wanted. Johnny covered her and she blossomed, welcoming
him inside.

“Am I too heavy?” he asked.

“No.” Aislynn was astonished by the truth.

Johnny started to move off her, but she held him, “No.”

“I’ll hold you, Aislynn, but I don’t want to hurt you.” He pulled her
onto his chest and surrounded her with his arms. Aislynn buried her face in his
flesh and burst into tears. She cried for what she had gained and for what she
had lost, for what she left behind and for what lay ahead.

She sat up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I do love you,”
she sniffed.

He chuckled, “I’ve always known that.”

She pushed him, “How? I just realized it.”

“Aislynn, you didn’t say it, but you showed me.” 

Bewildered, she asked, “I did?”

He put an arm under his head and began, “Let’s see, at dances, did you
ever dance with anyone besides me or a Nolan?”

“No one else asked.”

“That’s because you said yes to me so quickly.”

“Because you wouldn’t allow it.”

Ignoring her, he continued, “Did you write to any other non-Nolans during
the war?”

“I had other things to do,” she countered.

Johnny laughed, “And when you saw me on the street with my boys what
would you always say?”

Aislynn was becoming annoyed with his conceit, “How should I remember?”

“You’d say, ‘Johnny Maher, are you goin’ to help me with these bundles?’
and my boys would say, ‘You’re in, Johnny.’ Sure enough, you’d ask me up to
your flat so we could be alone.”

“I never intended such a thing; I was being polite.”

“And when we got here, you bought property for us. You don’t get more
tied to a man than that.”

Aislynn threw her head back, “You are far too sure of yourself.”

“You think so?”
He pulled her down and leaned over her, “Well, tell me this, Aislynn Denehy,
who are you lyin’ with, makin’ love to?”

“I, Aislynn
Denehy, do solemnly swear,” Ogden’s short, balding justice of the peace, with
stains on his shirt and beer on his breath, read the words for Aislynn to
repeat. Aislynn smiled at Tim. It seemed right he should be giving her away. He
had held her heart her whole life.

“…to love, honor and obey.”

Aislynn stopped after honor. She exchanged glances with Johnny and Tim
while No Nose laughed, “That won’t happen.”

Johnny asked the justice, “Does she have to say obey?”

“She’s gonna be your wife ain’t she?”

Johnny nodded.

“Then she oughta obey you.”

“I’ll be happy
if she loves and honors me.”

The justice
insisted, “It’s in the book.”

“Well, if I
don’t mind, neither should you.”

Johnny closed
the book and said, “I now pronounce us husband and wife.” He pushed the
Claddagh ring onto her finger with the heart pointing towards hers and kissed
her hard and long.

Seated at the Western Union office, Aislynn struggled with the idea of
taking another loan, but she needed the restaurant and they needed a home. They
mortgaged their collective property, and Johnny assured her they would be
debt-free in a year. It did not take long to find builders. Grading had slowed
on the UP line and laid-off railroad workers were drifting into camp looking
for labor. In ten days, they had the ruins of the old restaurant cleared away
and new, mail ordered building slapped into place. Work on the house commenced
as quickly.

With Tim and No Nose bunking in the loft of the blacksmith shop, Aislynn
and Johnny passed their evenings alone in the cabin studying wishbooks.
Johnny’s only request was for a big bed. Aislynn selected their other
necessities with frugality.

On April 10
^th
, amid the smell of fresh paint and new
upholstery, they moved into their home. With the exception of Liam Moran, all
their close friends helped them celebrate their housewarming. Moran was in
Washington, DC where Congress came to a decision on the Transcontinental
Railroad. It was resolved that the common terminus would be at Ogden, Utah, and
the rails would join at Promontory Point. Moran’s wager was won.

In four short years, one of man’s greatest engineering achievements, a
solid testament to American ingenuity and imagination, had been completed. On
May 10
^th
, 1869, the entire nation held its breath waiting for the
final hammer to push the “Golden Spike” through the last rail and strike the
telegraph wire silently waiting deep in the last tie. Contact sent the message
“Done” coast-to-coast triggering celebrations in San Francisco, New York,
Washington and hundreds of towns in between. Ogden dressed for the occasion and
joined the hurrah with band concerts, a fair and a dance.

With mourning behind her, Aislynn enjoyed the fair in a new yellow dress
and a wide-brimmed, straw hat streaming yellow ribbons. Aislynn, Johnny, Tim,
and No Nose wandered through the fair gawking at tall men, fat ladies, palm
readers and snake charmers. They listened to hurdy-gurdy and hawkers, ate rock
candy and popped corn. While the band concert commenced, they shared the dinner
Aislynn had packed. When darkness beat down the sun, torches lining the dance
floor were lit. Aislynn granted each of her escorts a dance.

No Nose and Aislynn waltzed back to Johnny and Tim just as Liam Moran
approached. She felt her composure slip and her color rise. He greeted each man
with a slight bow and extended his hand to Johnny, “Congratulations, I’ve been
informed of your marriage. You must be very happy.”

Johnny beamed at Aislynn, “Yes, sir.”

As he turned and bowed to her, Aislynn’s stomach churned. She had
forgiven herself for her lapse of propriety in Salt Lake City, blaming his
sophistication and treachery. Yet face-to-face with him, twinges of shame and
guilt returned. “Mrs. Maher,” he said, “my best wishes.”

Aislynn mumbled a thank you.

He returned to Johnny, while the band struck up another waltz. “Perhaps,
your bride would honor me with a dance?”

“That’s up to her,” Johnny shrugged. “She still tends to do what she
wants.”

Strengthened by Johnny’s confidence, she consented. Moran offered his arm
and led her into the middle of the crowd. They faced each other. He pulled her
to him, staring down at her as the music moved their feet. Aislynn could feel
his eyes and tried to push past her discomfort. Her marriage stood between
them, protecting her from his indecent intentions. She knew she was a good wife
and wanted him to know.

Aislynn offered conversation, “Your railroad is complete.”

“Yes,” he answered.

“You must be pleased.”

“Yes.”

Aislynn’s anxiety rose. She could feel his condemnation filling the space
between them. The crowded dance floor and the loud music made discussion
difficult. He danced them to a dark, empty edge of the floor.

Aislynn nervousness became words, “How did you find Washington?”

“Trying, as always.”

“Well, I guess we have to learn to take the good with the bad,” she
mused.

Bending close, the warmth of his breath on her ear raced through her.
“You must be an expert on compromise by now, Aislynn, giving yourself to a man
for a house and a restaurant.”

Anger froze her feet. “That’s not why I married him!”

“Do you expect me to believe that after all these years, you’ve suddenly
realized you love him?”

She twisted out of his arm and seethed, “I don’t have to explain myself.”
Wrenching her hand from his, she snarled, “I only have to answer to one man,
and that man isn’t you!”

Stomping away she heard him shout, “He isn’t Tim Nolan, either.”

Chapter 23

After Aislynn’s
breakfast customers had left the restaurant, she headed out the back door. The
Golden Spike celebration left her tired and her legs aching. As she passed the
woodpile, she heard mewling, “Missus Maher? Missus?”

Startled,
Aislynn searched behind the logs and found a young girl. As quickly as the
girl’s dark skin and coarse hair registered her as a Negro, her dress told
Aislynn she was a whore. The girl crawled into the light. Aislynn’s eyes were
drawn to a fresh gash across the whore’s neck, still moist and red although the
stream of blood on her dress was dry and brown.

“Good Lord!”
Aislynn clapped her hands over her breasts. She struggled for an appropriate
response. Her sensibilities were shaken, but her sympathy was stirred. “Come in
the house; we’ll clean your wound.”

Aislynn sat the
girl on a kitchen chair and started to heat water. The whimpering girl
introduced herself as Carrie. She spun out her seventeen-year-old life. She had
been a plantation slave until a man purchased her and put her to work on the
road. She turned tricks under his command from Georgia to Denver. When her pimp
was shot dead, she ran. Stella gave her work, but Carrie sniffled, “Miners be a
rough lot. Last night, one cut me bad. I had to get.”

The ruffled
neckline of Carrie’s dress interfered with Aislynn’s attempt to clean the
wound. Carrie pulled down her dress, exposing herself, and causing Aislynn to
gasp. Raised scars burned round by cigars marred the girl’s black skin. She had
purple remnants of human bites and dark souvenirs of slashes on her breasts,
shoulders and back. Aislynn filled the bath. Carrie soaked herself clean and
washed away her former profession.

Aislynn was
ready to close up when Moran, Jeb and Buck blew into the restaurant, covered in
trail dust and worry. They took seats with her fellows, and she brought them
the remnants of the night’s offerings. Jeb, silent as always, dove right into
his meal, but Moran and Buck explained their frustration.

“She be gone or
dead. Can’t find her nor any trace of her nowheres,” Buck offered.

“I’m going to
have a real problem if another woman is dead.” Moran added.

Aislynn’s
curiosity was piqued, “Who’s dead?”

“Carrie, one of
Stella’s whores.” Johnny explained.

“She’s not dead;
she’s asleep,” Aislynn stated.

The men were
astonished. Even Jeb emitted words of surprise.

Tim spoke up,
“Aislynn, Mr. Moran has been looking for that girl all day.”

“Well, no one
asked me about her.”

“You don’t even
look at the whores.” Tim explained.

Aislynn
shrugged, “She’s not a whore any more. She’s my… assistant.” She nodded at No
Nose, “You can help in the smithy, Carrie’s going to replace you here.”
Starting for the door, she called, “You can lock up. I’m tired, and I’m going
home.” She looked over her shoulder at Johnny. Wide-eyed and expectant, she
invited him to bed asking, “Are you coming with me?”

Moran heard her
proposition and chagrin raced across his face. As he spoke up, Aislynn could
hear his disbelief. “Johnny, would you mind if I walked your wife home? I’d
like to have a word.”

Aislynn could
hear Johnny’s irritation. “It’s up to her. After all, it seems she’s making all
the decisions now.”

With a few long
strides, Moran reached her. The pout she sent to Johnny fell into a frown for
Moran. He opened the door, and she passed before him. Outside, he said, “You’re
full of surprises, aren’t you?” His eyes raked her. “I should have known you’d
… adjust to certain aspects of marriage.”

“What do you
want?” Aislynn burned. She had expected this reprisal and chose not to dignify
it.

Following her
across the yard, he started in his superior tone, “She’s going back to
Stella’s.”

“Why, so next
time they can kill her?” she challenged.

“Don’t be so
dramatic. It’s her job.”

“It’s not.” She
halted abruptly. “I…I know what she’s suppose to be doing,” she looked down at
the ground and twisted the toe of her shoe in the dirt. “She said she can bear
the, you know, but they torture her.”

Moran huffed,
“Some men are pigs.”

“It’s not right.
There should be rules, some kind of protection.”

Moran chuckled,
“There are rules; the first one is- when a man’s paying, he does what he wants.”

Aislynn was
determined to make her point. “I don’t pretend to know a great deal about this,
but it seems there should be limits.”

Frustrated,
Moran explained, “These men don’t want limits. That’s why many of them came
west in the first place.”

 “Mr. Moran, I
have rules, and the men follow them just fine.”

“Aislynn,
Stella’s is not a restaurant.” She could hear the condescension in his voice,
and it angered her.

She looked up at
him and declared, “Liam, she’s a human being. She has a right not to be burned
or bitten or sliced or scarred.” She could hear herself becoming shrill, “You
go tell Stella that Carrie is not coming back.” She marched up the front steps
and put the key in the door.

She heard him
kick the dirt and stomp up behind her.

As Aislynn
stepped inside, he called, “Don’t shut me out!”

She slammed the
door behind her. It flew open and crashed against the wall. She backed into the
hall and inhaled, “I didn’t ask you in.”

An over-wound
spring, he seemed ready to snap. “Too late,” his breath came short and hard.
Aislynn stood her ground. He hovered over her, and she could feel his heat as
he hissed, “I want that girl.”

For an instant,
she thought she saw into him, into a place where he kept his secrets, his pain.
He caught her looking, and anger flared in his eyes. She lifted her face up to
his and shook her head. She whispered, “You can’t have her.”

“Aislynn,” he
shouted in a voice that pushed her back two steps, “she owes money, and she’s
going back.”

“So, it’s money
you want, Mr. Moran.” Aislynn wheeled around, opened the closet door and
stooped. Out of the dark, quiet space, she produced a glass jar full of coins
and a few greenbacks. She held the jar out at arm’s length, “Here, Liam, the
most important thing in the world.”

Her eyes never left
his as he raised his hand and swept it before her. The jar shattered against
the wall. Coins flew, clattering to the floor, rolling, and entwining them in
invisible circles until they lay exhausted.