The Traherns #1 (33 page)

“And your gun?” He hadn’t worn it to dinner, as I had looked to
see if it was there.

“For shootin’ varmints. Two-legged, four-legged, and those
without legs.”

I looked puzzled, so he added, “Snakes, Ma’am.”

“Oh.”

“We have a lot of them in Texas.”

“Are you from Texas?”

“I’m from a lot of places. Texas was the last stop.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Some things you don’t ask, Ma’am.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“If you’re going west, you need to know that. If people want you
to know their name and where they’re from, they’ll tell you. Just don’t ask.”

“I see. May I ask if you’re returning to Texas?”

“You can. I’m not. That was the last drive my boss was making.
Now that we’ve had our time in town, the boys and I are headed to Wyoming.
Maybe Montana. Wherever the jobs are.”

Our meal was served and we ate, attending to the business of
eating the excellent food served in the dining car. Looking outside, we had an
ever-changing panorama of scenery, as the train was following a stream. As a
place to have dinner, it was quite unique.

When our dessert came, Shorty proceeded to ask me about raising
bulls like Sir Galahad, how much they were selling for, and how well their get
did on the open range.

“That last I don’t know,” I said. “I know father shipped some
out to Oregon last year. And several to California. I don’t know if they kept
them penned or what, or if they graze their calves out on the open land.”

“I’d think the deep snow would get them. Or the wolves. They run
in packs, you know, and an animal must be quick to turn. A few wolves will go
after his head and while he’s worried about them, one will slip in and hamstring
him from behind. Once they get an animal down, he’s gone.”

“Do they take out many cows?”

“Oh yes. Every rancher carries a gun. Either to shoot wolves, or
to kill an animal the wolves have injured. They do a lot of damage. Along with
the bears and coyotes, though the coyotes are not quite so dangerous.”

“I hope Mr. Trahern keeps Sir Galahad where there’s a barn.”

“Trahern, you say?”

“Yes. James Trahern. That’s the man who bought him.”

“I knew a Trahern in Texas. A girl. Her father raises horses.”

“They might be kinfolk,” I said.

It was the most interesting conversation I’d ever had. Most men
I’d talked too were either only interested in telling me about themselves or in
trying to compliment me. I’d even had some recite poetry to me. I like poetry,
but I didn’t feel the words of a poet described me as well as just a sincere
unpoetic word might have. None of them had an interesting job, or if they did,
they didn’t tell me about it. They probably thought I wouldn’t be interested.

We talked until I noticed the stewards had cleared out all
around us.

“I must go,” I said. “Thank you for a very entertaining
evening.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. My pleasure.” He left a tip and insisted on
paying for the meal.

“But I was supposed to furnish the meal,” I said.

He waggled his finger at me. “You furnished the delightful
company at the meal. A lady doesn’t pay.”

I wondered if all western men were as nice as Shorty, then
remembered he carried a gun for shooting varmints. “Thank you. Goodnight, and I
hope to see more of you.”

“It’s a small train,” he replied.

Back in my car, I got ready for bed. The stays in my corset were
hurting my ribs, and I struggled with it and finally pulled it off and looked
it over.

Why was I wearing this? I was thin enough. I didn’t need to look
thinner. The stays hurt and bruised my ribs, although not so much right now, as
I didn’t have Nell pulling on the ribbons. It was almost impossible to get in
and out of without help.

The weather was getting hot during the day. I noticed the women
here wore fairly loose cotton dresses and now I knew why.

They had looked sloppy to me when I first saw them. I had viewed
them with my mother’s eye, feeling the gowns were poorly sewn. I now realized
that they were cooler. It was full summer, and each day getting hotter as we
moved inland. That night I threw open my windows to get a breeze created by the
train, and slept with just a light sheet over me.

The next morning I searched through my steamer trunk until I
found the dress I was thinking of. It was a light cotton shirtwaister, one of
only two dresses I owned that were not fitted so tight I could hardly breathe
in them. Consequently, they were loose enough I wouldn’t have to wear my corset
underneath.

I washed, dressed and felt much cooler and comfortable. I put on
a pair of old shoes I used around the garden, and went to check on Sir Galahad.
The cowboys had already been there and cleaned his stall. They hadn’t fed him,
probably because they didn’t know how much to give him out of the sacks of
grain I had there. He got a mixture in the morning that I weighed out for him.
It consisted of sorghum, rolled oats, barley, some dried corn and a tablespoon
of sorghum molasses over the top.

Shorty came in while I was measuring, and watched me, asking why
each different grain was fed.

“The sorghum is nutrient rich,” I told him. “My father swears by
it, and always gives it to his bulls as they are growing up. It produces the
weight you see on these bulls. It makes their bones strong, and just plain
keeps them healthy. Once they are full grown, he doesn’t feed the molasses any
more.”

“I thought he was full grown,” Shorty said, glancing at Sir
Galahad.

“He is. Father was ready to take him off, when he sold him. He
didn’t want to change feed all at once, especially on the trip. I’ve been
instructed to keep feeding him the same until he’s in his new surroundings.
Then I’m to taper off and do a food change.”

“Has he ever eaten grass?”

“Oh, yes. He loves it. I don’t feed him as much grain when he
has grass to eat afterwards.”

“I’m leaving the train in a day. You’ll have to get some other
help for the last leg of your trip.”

“It might just pile up on me. The first time I tried to hit the
wagon, I wasn’t prepared for the speed they wanted it shoveled or the distance
they wanted it thrown. They yelled at me.”
Actually they swore at me, and told me
to get a boy to do it.

“I understand why they were angry,” I added. “They had to get to
all the cars before the train started up again. They couldn’t wait for me.”

“No, Ma’am. That they couldn’t. Do you want me to look through
the train for help for you?”

“Would you? I sent the porter the first time, but he never found
anyone who didn’t refuse as soon as they saw Sir Galahad.”

“There should be some farm families aboard now that we’re moving
west. I’ll look out a farm boy for you, who won’t mind earning two dollars.”

“Thank you. That would really help.”

Later on that day, Shorty brought me Henry, a freckled-faced
youth who looked like he could pick up Sir Galahad if he had to.

We were approaching Cheyenne, where the porter had told me a
wagon would be ready. The stop was longer than normal as they had to take some
cars off this train and route them south, and then add cars from the train that
had come north to this one. Another wagon would follow with hay and straw that
we could load into Sir Galahad’s car.

This boy wasn’t afraid of bulls and handled the pitchfork like
he knew which end was the business end. He offered to come through and clean up
every morning for no extra charge. He said, “My Pa says it’s not fitting for a
woman to have to clean stalls when there’s a husky boy around to do it.”

“Then tell your pa, ‘Thank you.’ I’d appreciate it very much.”

He left, and I made sure Sir Galahad was tied and the big
outside door well secured. I decided to go back to my car and rest before
supper. It was the last sleeper car on the train, so no one would pass through
it. They had put Sir Galahad’s car just ahead of it, and the freight cars
behind it, as this train carried both passengers and local freight.

I opened the door from Sir Galahad’s car and saw a freight car
where mine should have been.
Where was my car?

*2*

Had they shuffled my car forward? I’d seen some cars going by
while Henry was tossing manure, so I turned around and walked the length of the
train. I went by Henry’s family and stopped to speak to them and tell them what
a fine worker he was. I could tell they were proud of him.

Then I passed Shorty and his cowboys, lounging in the day
section. Shorty said they didn’t bother with sleepers. If they could sleep out
on rocks, they sure as shootin could sleep on train benches.

They didn’t look very comfortable. Shorty was just getting
settled in when I walked by. He took one look at my face and jumped up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as he stepped over the tangle of legs
and joined me in the aisle. “You look ready to panic.”

“I can’t find my car.”

“It’s at that end, isn’t it?”

“No. Not unless it’s behind the freight cars now. I thought they
might have moved it forward, but I’m running out of train this end.”

We were close enough to the engine to see the sparks flying off.

“There’s nothing past our car like yours,” Shorty said. “There’s
a car for the stewards and porters. Then the wood car and the engine.”

“Are you sure? How can you lose a car?”

Shorty walked up to the door leading into the employee’s section
and beat on the door until the steward opened it. He glanced from me to Shorty.

“Miss Porter’s car has disappeared,” Shorty said. “Did they put
it behind the freight cars when they were switching?”

“They shouldn’t have,” the steward said, alarmed. He shot out of
the door and practically ran through the train. We followed, as he ran from one
car to the next. When we got to the freight cars, he went up and over them. We
waited until he returned. He dropped down where we were and we went inside.

“It’s not there,” he said. “I went all the way to the caboose. I
don’t know what to say. This has never happened on my route. I’ll check and see
if we have an empty room, but I don’t think we do.”

“What good is an empty room?” I said, wringing my hands in
despair. “That car had my trunk and all my suitcases in it. I don’t have any of
my things.”

“We can reroute it back, Miss. You can get off at the next stop
and wait for it to come through.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. If it really did get routed to Texas, it may take
a week to get it back.”

“And my bull? Where is he going to room?”

“I’d forgotten.” He ran his fingers through his hair, knocking
off his hat when he did so.

“The man who bought him is expecting him on this train,” I said.
“So I’ll take him through on this train. But my trunk had better follow me.”

“Does your luggage have your address on it?”

“Yes, it does.”

“They’ll send it, then.”

“My Baltimore address. It’ll get home before I do.”

“They should send it to where you are going.”

“I hope so.”

We followed him back to where he had a list of passengers.

He looked over his list. “There are no empty sleeping cars,
Miss. They’re all full.”

I was near tears. Nothing was going as planned. I felt all alone
and vulnerable without my car. It was like I’d lost my home.

We had passed farmlands earlier. Now, as the climate grew drier,
the farms gave way to ranches. I could see cattle grazing by the side of the
tracks, and occasionally a cowboy.

“The next stop has a telegraph operator at the station. I’ll
have him send a message down the line. They’ll find the car and send your thing
on.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“The train will refund your money, Miss.”

“I don’t need the money, I need a place to sleep. I need my
things. I don’t even have a comb.” Now I was beginning to panic. The people in
the day cars barely had a toilet and a place to wash up. They got on the train,
and except for a few stalwart souls like the cowboys, got off the same day.

This morning I had put on my oldest shirtwaister and some low
heeled shoes, so I would be comfortable. I had no nice clothes to wear. Nothing
to meet Mr. Trahern in, as would be fitting a daughter of the man he purchased
a bull from. I knew no one on this train except a bunch of cowboys, who were
due to get off before I did.

I was feeling extremely sorry for myself when Shorty said, “This
is worse than the time a buffalo herd went through my camp. Almost died before
I found my horse.”

“What happened to your things?” I asked him.

“There’s nothing left once a buffalo herd tromps on it. Food,
blanket, saddle. All gone.”

“How did you get away?” the steward asked.

“They were running and the ground shook. I woke up and thought
it was a storm, then an earthquake. I’d never seen several thousand buffs
running together. I had camped near a rock formation that stuck up like a
tooth. My horse was out grazing, as I didn’t tie him at night. I scrambled up
the tooth, just as the herd hit. Took over an hour for them to run by. I clung
to that rock the whole time.”

“Did you get to the top?” I asked.

“Not that good of a climber. I had pulled on my boots, first
thing, then ran for the rock. But it was hard to climb, and I only made it
about ten feet off the ground, so I was practically sitting on top of their
horns. When they passed, there was nothing left. It was like I hadn’t even been
there.”

“Why didn’t you jump on your horse and ride away?” I asked.

“He wasn’t close enough. Besides, I didn’t figure he’d make it.
He might not of, with my weight on his back. I’d seen cowboys caught in cattle
stampedes of just a few hundred head, where their horses tripped. There weren’t
much left to bury. So I took my chances on the rock.”

All of a sudden my plight didn’t seem so bad after all. “Were
you far away from help? From a town?”

“Only about four, five hundred miles. But I knew there was a
fort southwest of me and started walking. It was the direction the buffalo had
gone, and three days later I found my horse. He was mighty glad to see me, came
prancing up, all pleased with himself. I braided some bark into enough of a
cord that I could make an Indian bridle, and rode bareback to the fort. We were
a sorry sight when we got there, I’m a’telling you.”

“So the loss of my comb is not a tragedy,” I said. “Or my
cases.”

“You do have water,” Shorty pointed out.

“And transportation,” I added. “And food.”

“The necessities.”

“But I would like my comb,” I said, tugging at my blonde hair.
It was long and I liked to keep it from getting tangled.

“Why don’t we see if Henry’s mother has a comb? For when you
need it.”

“Let’s go have supper first,” I said. “I’ll buy.”

We turned away and the steward called me back. “If a room opens
up, I’ll put you in it first thing.”

“Thank you,” I said, and walked away behind Shorty.

We went to the dining car and ate, and I felt fairly content. I
had someone who was helping me, who knew what he was doing. If a room didn’t
open up, I’d just have to sleep on a bench like the others were doing.

Afterwards, we walked back to where the people were sitting, all
jammed together, some trying to sleep on the benches, others slumped in their
chairs. Shorty took one look at the cowboys, half asleep by now, and shook his
head. “Sir Galahad has more room than we do.”

I looked at him and he looked at me. “Are you thinking what I’m
thinking?” I said.

“Fresh hay. Just put in. Can you lock the doors from the
inside?”

“I don’t think so.”

He looked around the day car, at the people trying to get
comfortable. “No one here,” he muttered and walked into the next one. There he
found an elderly woman fanning herself, but alone.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but this young lady here, has had a bit of
bad luck.” He explained the situation to her. “Now she could get some needed
sleep in that car, on the straw, but would need a female companion with her. If
you don’t mind a bull on the other side of the stall, it would give you a
chance to stretch out, too. If you wished, I’d stay there and stand guard for
you.”

She stood up. “Let’s see what you’re talking about. That’s my
bag,” she said, pointing at a fairly large sack under the seat.

We marched ahead of Shorty, he carrying the bag, to Sir
Galahad’s car.

She’ll take one look at that bull and scream
, I thought, but she
didn’t.

“Nice,” she said. “I’ll take a bull over those crowded cars any
day. He is some bull. Where did you get one like this?”

I explained and she looked at the fresh hay. “We’ll have to
brush each other off in the morning, but this is wonderful.”

“You don’t mind?” I asked.

“Dearie, I’ve slept in some pretty strange places. This actually
is one of the nicer ones. I’ll take cow smell to unwashed humans any day.”

Shorty scooped up a pile of hay and carried it over in front of
the door, made himself comfy, laid his pistol beside him and was quickly
asleep. Sir Galahad laid down, and so the lady and I did, too.

“I’m Phyllis. What’s your name, dearie?”

“Brynn.”

“Irish sounding.”

“Yes. My great grandmother.”

“Well, Brynn, I think your cowboy had a good idea. Get some rest
tonight and things should look brighter in the morning. I certainly wasn’t
looking forward to sleeping on those benches.”

“How long are you traveling?”

“Three nights. Even one is too much for these old bones. But I
can’t afford a sleeping car, even one shared.”

“The steward thought there might be an extra car at one of the
stops, but he couldn’t guarantee it.”

“To go from ocean to ocean in a week. Who would have ever
thought it possible?” she said.

I thought of telling my friends and mother about the trip and
realized they wouldn’t understand. I know I wouldn’t have, just a few days ago.

The straw was sweet smelling and clean. No bedbugs to worry
about. I yawned once and went to sleep, with the rocking, jerking motion of the
train somehow soothing.

The next morning I woke to see Shorty scratching Sir Galahad
under the chin. I stretched and walked over to look out the slats on the side
of the car. The scenery was passing by, the same as before, except there seemed
to be a lot more trees.

“We’re over the main part of the Rockies,” Shorty said. “We went
through last night. I get off in less than an hour. I’ll head out on another
train to Virginia City. See if you can find a young couple to come in here
tomorrow night. You should be in Baker City the next day.

“Thank you, Shorty.”

Our voices woke Phyllis up.

“The train’s slowing down,” she said, brushing the hay off her
clothes.

“Maybe we’re already there,” I said, doing some brushing of my
own.

Shorty looked through the slats.

“No, we haven’t got there. We’re being held up.” He turned to
Phyllis. “Throw some hay over your bag. Hide it, quick. Your jewelry, too.”

I had on the ring my father had given me for my eighteenth
birthday. I took it and the money I had, except for a few dollars, and put them
into Sir Galahad’s feed trough. Then I threw some hay over them.

Sir Galahad walked over and started to eat. I ran over and
grabbed more hay and threw it in, too.

Suddenly a masked man threw open our door and charged in.

“What?” he said, looking about, surprised.

“Just feeding the bull,” Shorty said, stepping aside to let him
pass. I noticed he had stuck his pistol in the back of his belt, so I could see
it, but the robber couldn’t.  

“Give me your valuables,” the robber demanded. I handed him my
purse and he pulled out the few dollars. “This all?” he said.

“We’re just workers, taking this animal to town,” Shorty said.

“He’s a fine bull. Worth lots of money,” the thief said, looking
Sir Galahad over.

“But he doesn’t walk fast,” I said. “Look how short his legs
are. You can’t hurry him.”

Frowning, the robber handed my purse back. “You got anything,”
he asked Phyllis.

“Not on me,” she said.

He nodded and stepped out the end door.

Sir Galahad was munching away. I hoped he wasn’t chewing up
money. I started to walk over to him when Shorty shook his head.

“Not yet. He’ll come back through.”

He did and quite quickly. I was glad Shorty had stopped me, or I
would have been found out. The thief glanced around the car, then left. I ran
over and grabbed the money just as Sir Galahad was sniffing it. I stuffed it
into my purse. If Shorty hadn’t been there, the thief would have taken it all,
since I wouldn’t have thought to hide it.