Love Finds You in Lonesome Prairie, Montana (5 page)

Now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Isaac needed to exemplify strength for his parishioners—to help and comfort his sheep.

Milo turned to his daughters. As Isaac stepped back to give them a moment together, a woman’s jovial voice called from the swinging door of the saloon, an awkward interruption to the somber setting. “Where’s my brother?”

Isaac looked up and saw his two sisters and their families standing in the doorway. Milo’s daughters crouched around their father as Isaac slowly rose and walked toward the door.

Isaac herded his family onto the porch, and their countenances fell when they noticed the pain on his face. The blood on his hands.

Miriam, his oldest sister, peered past him. Her belly bulged with child, and Isaac’s nephew Josh hung on her leg. Seeing Milo on the floor, her hand flew to her mouth as if blocking a shriek. “Is that Elder Godfrey? Oh, Isaac, what happened?”

Isaac explained.

“We came to hear your sermon,” his sister Elizabeth added, “but one of the wagon wheels got stuck in a rut. All the mud…”

“In a week it’ll be dry,” Isaac commented absently.

“Go to him,” Elizabeth whispered, patting his hand. “We’ll pray.”

His family joined those at the table in prayer, and Isaac returned to Milo.

His friend’s face had faded to a pale, greenish hue. His breathing faltered.

Aponi’s eyes fixed on Isaac, her face stoic, but her brown eyes brimmed with fear and disbelief. “He will not live.”

“I know.” Isaac wrapped an arm around her.

“Isaac,” Milo mumbled, his blue eyes opening. “You need a wife. A good one like Aponi.”

He’s delirious
. Isaac nodded. “She is a wonderful woman,” he said, avoiding Milo’s point. “God has blessed you.”

“That vow you made is stupid. ‘It is not good that the man should be alone.’ Remember.” The dying man grumbled and lifted his head slightly.

“Stupid? I thought you understood why I—”

“I was trying to let you figure it out yourself.” Milo coughed, and a trickle of blood seeped from his lips. “But you need a good woman. Find one. Promise you’ll try.”

“I’m sorry, my friend, but I can’t.” Isaac patted Milo’s hand. “Don’t worry about that now.”

“Promise.”

Isaac shook his head.

“Stubborn!” Milo’s head sank back, his eyes closing again.

After what seemed like a long time, Milo’s eyes opened and searched for his wife. “Aponi, I love you.”

“Your eternity. It has come.” Her voice faltered. “God is with you.”

Isaac opened his Bible to Psalm 23. “‘The Lord is my shepherd….’”

And by the end of the psalm, as Aponi rested her head against her husband’s chest, it had stilled.

“I’m bored,” Liza, one of the five remaining girls, whined in her Italian accent. She twisted around in the bench in front of Julia and rested her chin on the tall seat back. “Three weeks is too long to sit on this rumble-tumble train. My
sedere
hurts.”

Julia rubbed her forehead and threw the girl a cynical glance. “I know. We’ve heard you at least a dozen times…today.” Julia patted Liza’s dark hair. “And it’s so much harder on you than the rest of us.” Julia winked.

Liza stuck out her lower lip. “It is, Miss Cavanaugh. It really is. I’m more
miserabile
than anyone.”

“Oh brother.” Shelby, sitting next to Julia, rolled her eyes.

Julia tucked a bookmark into the last Wild West novel she’d brought with her,
The Prairie Knight
, and returned it to her valise. She was eager to find out what happened but knew she’d have to wait.

Soon I’ll have lots of time to read.
She needed to focus on the five girls who remained. The twenty-seven others had already gone to new homes at stops along the way.

At first Julia had been uncertain of the system. Who were these men and women who would be taking her girls into their homes? Thankfully, the nun from the Children’s Aid Society had explained everything to her. Local clergy recommended the families, who promised to provide the girls with the same food, clothing, education, and spiritual training as they would any biological children. Yet Julia had wondered if her girls would receive the same love.

Julia’s worries had eased when she’d met the mothers and fathers along the way. Their tender gazes, open arms, and kind words assured her the girls would be cared for.

At the next town, the five sitting in the seats around her would also be handed over to new parents. And though she was grateful the girls would have new families and hopeful futures, she realized that for the first time in her life, she’d be alone. The wrench tightened in her stomach, but Julia chose to focus on the present—not her fearful future.
I should enjoy my girls while I still have the chance.

“Did you finish your stitching, Liza? Do you need help?”

“I’m sick of stitching!” Liza pinched her lips together. Standing, she announced, “I’m going to ask the conductor how much longer. He’s sitting in the dining car. I saw him.”

“That’s fine. A walk’ll do you good.” Julia blew out another breath and focused on the never-ending Montana prairie that passed by the window like a blurred Monet painting.

“Maybe you should go, too, Miss Cavanaugh,” Shelby said. “That conductor’s so handsome.”

Julia’s cheeks warmed, thinking of the tall young man who’d “conducted” them on their journey. “He does have really nice eyes, doesn’t he? So dark and mysterious.”

“I think he likes you.”

Julia shook her head. “Oh, he’s just a friendly sort. Besides, who’d want a husband always gone on another train trip? Not me.” She adjusted in her seat. The trip
had
been long, and if Julia was honest, her
sedere
hurt, too.

Over the miles, the landscape had transformed from bustling cities of the East to small townships to miles of uninhabited wilderness. Small depots and water towers located at regular intervals provided brief respites from the smoky, chugging train ride. For the first few days, the girls had awoken every time the train stopped to have its water tanks refilled for the steam engines. After the first week they learned to sleep through it all.

At many depots farther west—out past Nebraska and into the Dakotas—the sound of new construction filled the air. Town plans were a common topic among land scouts, who frequently joined Julia and the girls on the train while surveying the prospective new communities. They talked about the six-mile-square townships and showed one another their sketches of roads and buildings.

Peering out the window in the evenings, Julia caught glimpses of the first residents’ flickering campfires in these sprouting gardens of America. She wondered what dreams and hopes these late-century pioneers had carried with them—and what they had discarded along the way.

Julia fumbled through her bag for the letter she’d started writing to Mrs. Gaffin in Bismarck, North Dakota. She remembered that remarkable territory and how, at one of the depots, she’d seen a mighty elk, antlers stretching against the sky, chest puffed proudly. She ran a finger over her penciled descriptions.

Dear Mrs. Gaffin,

Intending to post the letter at the next depot, Julia placed it on the top of her new valise.

The wind outside picked up, and the prairie grass swayed gently. So far the West had been all she’d dreamed. Looming buttes, acres of lush sage, wild prairie roses and foxgloves, vast skies, and rambling streams. And how she loved the people she’d met at the depots. Such peculiar characters, just like out of her books.

Just this morning they’d met a woman, Mabelina, in Fort Benton. The stocky, cherry-haired woman lavished warm greetings on them. When she learned their last stop would be Big Sandy, Mabelina grasped Julia in a full hug.

“We need good womenfolk in my town.” A twinkle lit her brown eyes. “Our parson needs a wife!”

Julia had chuckled and explained she was only dropping off the remaining girls and would immediately return to New York. The woman’s whole face frowned, and then, as quick as a city rat could scamper off with a dropped morsel, her face depicted sweet joy once again.

“Oh well, the Good Lord’s sure to bring someone, someday.”

“Miss Cavanaugh.” A voice jolted Julia from her thoughts, and Liza rushed in. “The conductor said Big Sandy is five miles away. Fifteen minutes. We’re almost there! I can’t wait to meet my new parents. I just know they’re good people.”

“I good people!” Bea, who’d been snoozing in the seat behind Julia, wobbled to her and clambered onto her lap. Julia lifted a ledger from her bag. The nun at Grand Central Depot had given it to her before they’d left New York. It listed where each girl would be living.

Bea sat up on Julia’s lap. “I go Wonesome Pwaiwee.”

Julia viewed her list. “That’s right. I suppose it must be a town close to Big Sandy. Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?”

Shelby scooted next to Julia and leaned her head against Julia’s shoulder. “It doesn’t sound good to me. Sounds lonely.”

“Maybe not. Let’s hope not.” Julia smoothed Shelby’s straight, yellow-blond hair.

Even though the girls had been with Julia since Bea was a newborn, Shelby hadn’t been easy to win over. Too many years of disappointment and neglect had built a fortress of feisty, stubborn anger around the girl. It was only recently that Julia had broken through. She’d gained Shelby’s trust.
And now?

Shelby glanced up, and Julia took the moment to memorize the girl’s blue eyes. Her cheeks. Her smile.
Such a beautiful face. Such a beautiful heart.

“I don’t want to leave you, Miss Cavanaugh.” Shelby’s voice quivered like a leaf on a windy day. “I’ve been thinking.” She sat straighter in the seat next to Julia. “Why can’t you adopt us? You can be our mother. Wherever you go, we’ll go. I can work in the factories to help pay, and Bea will be a good girl.”

Please, no.
Didn’t Shelby think Julia had already considered this?

More than once Julia had imagined returning to New York with Shelby and Bea. Surely Mrs. Gaffin wouldn’t put them out on the street. Maybe they all could live in her big, new house…at least until Julia could find work. Then she and the girls could rent a small room somewhere. It wouldn’t be much, but they’d at least have each other.

An ache pounded at her temples, but its source was the throbbing in her heart. When she considered these things, reality always took over. Mrs. Gaffin was starting a new life. She’d done her duty by providing for the girls to go on the orphan train. Julia couldn’t ask her to do more. And Julia simply couldn’t provide for them herself, not as a new family could.

“Sweetie.” Julia touched Shelby’s cheek. “I want to be your mother…with all my heart, but—”

Shelby cut her off, her eyes pleading. “We need each other. What will Bea do without you?”

Julia struggled to keep her voice calm. “We have to trust that this is the right thing to do. That God has chosen these folks as your parents.” She reached for the girl’s hand.

Shelby jerked it away, pulling back as if stung by a wasp. “I knew you’d say no. I thought you loved us, but you’re just like everyone else—happy to be rid of us.”

Shelby stood and stomped to the next car.

“Please, Shelby,” Julia called after her, but she was already gone.

The train’s whistle blared as it approached the depot.

Julia focused on the four girls anxiously staring out the window. “Girls,” she said, organizing her things and watching for Shelby, “make sure you have everything ready.”

“We’re here?” Liza frowned. “But I don’t see any town. Not even a building.”

Only a stark and waterless prairie stretched in all directions. “I see what you mean,” Julia said. “But don’t worry. Big Sandy must be nearby. Now come on, girls; are you ready to meet your new parents?”

Before any of the girls could answer, the train jerked to a stop. Shelby entered and, without looking at Julia, grabbed her carpetbag.

“All right, girls.” Julia somehow found the strength to sound cheerful. “Quickly, gather around.”

Julia reached into her valise and pulled out the pillowslips she’d embroidered for each one during their journey. Creating these personal mementos had eased Julia’s ache and distracted her thoughts. She would not send them off empty-handed; she’d send them with a memory of her love. And when lonely or scary moments came, maybe these simple pillowslips would remind them of that.

She handed a pillowslip to each girl with a simple hug. “Fold them up and tuck them inside your carpetbags.”

They did as she asked. All except Shelby.