The Journey of Josephine Cain (42 page)

She certainly had feelings for him, deeper now than ever before.

Josephine had thought about him mile after mile, minute after minute. The notion of seeing him again kept her awake, and when she closed her eyes she imagined different scenarios of how their first meeting would come about. In doing so, she gave others the impression she was dozing.

But she wasn’t dozing. She was daydreaming.

And praying. She had honed her prayers to a few words that mimicked the rhythm of the train.
Let us be together, let us be together . . .

“We’re here!” Nelly popped out of her seat. “The very first thing I want to do is see Vera.”

That
pushed thoughts of Hudson aside. “You will not see Vera,” Josephine said. “We cannot risk going back to Miss Mandy’s. Or even close to that place.”

“I agree,” Frieda said.

“As do I,” Aunt said. “Though I am rather curious about such an establishment.”

“Aunt!”

“I have never seen a brothel before.”

“And you shan’t see one today.”

Nelly sank onto a bench. “It’s not fair.”

Josephine pulled her to standing. “Come now. First, I need to check for a wire from Papa. When I sent the letter, I asked for him to leave a response in Cheyenne.”

They stood in line to exit the railcar. Frieda stood behind Nelly, a hand on her shoulder. “I do wonder what he thinks about the store idea, and all three of us returning.”

“He doesn’t know about my coming along,” Aunt said.

What would Papa say to that?

That he was angry Josephine was rebelling against his directive by coming back?

That he didn’t want Nelly in this wild place?

That with Aunt Bernice along, he worried after his wife, left alone?

And by the way, a
store
? What made Josephine think
she
could start a store in the first place, and out west in the second?

She stepped off the train and headed to the depot office. Whatever Papa said, she would take her licks.

She deserved them, each and every one.

“Read it aloud,” Aunt said.

“‘Surprised by your letter. Proud of you. Try Laramie for store. Ask for Adolf Richter.’”

“What’s Laramie?” Frieda asked.

The railroad employee pointed west. “Next big town. Fifty miles.” He raised an eyebrow. “Laramie’s a wild place.”

“Wilder than Cheyenne?”

He shrugged. “As regular folks come to both places, they’ll settle down. Eventually. Last I heard we got two hundred kids here. Talking of building a school for ’em.”

“That sounds promising,” Aunt said.

“Lots of promises going around.” He nodded toward a table nearby. “Sandwiches for sale. Train’s leaving soon.” He pointed at the telegram. “Want to send a reply?”

She took up a pencil and tried to condense her swimming thoughts into a few words:
On to Laramie. Trust me. I love you
.

Josephine was asking for his trust.

Did she trust herself?

The train came to a halt in the middle of nowhere. Everyone looked out the window, trying to see the cause of the stoppage.

A nice man who’d been on the train since Omaha took charge. “I’ll go see—”

But a conductor came into the car. “Sorry for the delay, folks. But the Dale Creek Bridge has some restrictions. When it’s windy out . . . you don’t want to be on that bridge when it’s windy as it sways a bit.”

“A bit?” Josephine asked.

“You shoulda seen the workers building it. I ain’t never seen men so scared. They added some steel cables, but it still ain’t fit for crossing when there’s more than a breeze. Yet it’s the tallest such bridge in the entire world. Worth looking at, if you want to get out and stretch your legs.”

“How long will we be delayed?” Aunt Bernice asked.

The conductor smiled. “If you get God to tell you His plans for the wind, let me know and I’ll tell the watchman.”

“The bridge has a watchman?” someone asked.

“Watching for wind and fire from the locomotive’s sparks. Wood trestles don’t take kindly to neither.”

Frieda shuddered. “I’m not sure I want to cross such a bridge in the best of weather.”

“Then this’ll be the end of the line for you. No other way to cross.”

The passengers filed out of the cars and walked toward the locomotive, shielding their faces from dust blowing in the gale-force winds. There was another waiting train ahead of them.

And then they saw it. A massive trestle bridge spanned a canyon, rising over a hundred feet above a creekbed. It was five times as wide as it was high.

The passengers didn’t stay outside long, as the wind made it hard to even stand.

There was nothing to do but wait.

The wind didn’t bother Nelly. She was outside, hopping from stone to stone on the rocky soil. But then she stopped and pointed east. “There’s another train pulling up behind us!”

Dozing, Aunt Bernice opened an eye. “You would think they’d figure out a better way to do this.”

Josephine agreed. Although it had only been a few hours, the wind still hadn’t let up. A few enterprising men from the nearby hamlet of Dale Creek had brought some food from car to car, charging exorbitant prices that Josephine had refused to pay. But now, as her stomach growled, she wished they would come back. One of the perks of having a new train arrive might be another chance to buy something to eat.

The passengers from the newest train began to stroll past, seeking their own look at the bridge. As usual, it was a contingent of regular-looking people, railroad workers wearing much-worn clothes, cowboys with dust on their boots, soldiers heading to man the next fort to protect against the Indians, and fancy men who looked like they were aching for a way to take other people’s money.

But then she saw a brown Stetson and thought,
That hat is just like Hud—

Josephine sucked in a breath. “Hudson!”

She rushed out of the car and ran to him.

Hudson looked up and saw a woman running—

“Josie!”

He met her halfway, and she flew into his arms. He swung her around, the wind of his emotions forcing him to make an extra circle.

Then he gently lowered her to the ground. But they didn’t let go of each other, keeping hold in a fierce embrace. He whispered in her ear, “I don’t dare let go lest you’re a figment of my imagination.”

“I am real,” she whispered back. “And I am really here. We are both here.”

Finally assured that it was safe to let her go, he gazed upon her bright eyes and delightful freckles, then took her face in his hands. “I feared I’d never see you again.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “Mother had no right to send you away.”

“I went back for you,” he said.

“To Washington?”

He nodded. But that could wait.

Right now all he wanted to do was hold her.

And never let her go.

The couple was joined by Frieda, Nelly, and Aunt Bernice. Hudson kept his arm around Josie as he talked. “To say I am shocked to see all of you is an understatement. Your mother said you were starting a store?”

“We have the goods with us, at least enough for the first goround,” Josie said. “Women’s items like face cream and ribbons and toiletries and—”

“All the luxuries of home.”

“Even some toys,” Nelly added.

“I commend your entrepreneurial spirit.” He looked down at her. “I always knew there was a fire in your belly. I just didn’t expect it to spark Josie’s Emporium.”

“Neither did I.”

He had so many questions. Personal questions—and explanations. He tipped his hat to the other ladies and said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like a little time with Josie.”

“Don’t mind a bit,” Aunt said. “We—”

A boy ran toward them from the front of the train. “There’s a man taking photographs up ahead and selling them. You can have your picture taken by the canyon.”

Many passengers took the bait and headed forward. But then Josephine said, “Lewis? Do you suppose it’s Lewis?”

Lewis Simmons was the last person Hudson wanted to see.

Josephine took Hudson’s hand and led him forward. “Come on. If it is him, I have something I need to do.”

“Need . . . ?”

She gave him a single nod. “Need. Come with me.”

Hudson felt sorry for Lewis Simmons.

The wind whipped the drapery that Lewis pulled over his head in order to see the scene to be photographed. More than once he’d had to collect his tripod from the dust and set it right again. Logically, he should call it a day.