Time of Fog and Fire: A Molly Murphy Mystery (Molly Murphy Mysteries) (8 page)

With such drama I set off for Grand Central Terminal. At the booking office I found that travel across the country was not as simple as buying a ticket. There were too many choices. Did I want to travel on the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad to Denver, then westward on the Denver and Rio Grande Western Railroad to Salt Lake City and the final stretch on the Western Pacific? Or maybe I’d want to take the Chicago and Northwestern to Omaha and then the Southern Pacific via Ogden, Utah? And did I want a first-class Pullman? A second-class Pullman? A tourist ticket? A regular ticket?

When I said the quickest and cheapest way possible the clerk shook his head. “If you don’t mind my saying so, ma’am, you don’t want the cheapest way if you can afford better. If I sell you a third-class ticket you’ll be sitting on a wooden bench. Awful hard and nowhere for the child to sleep. And your car could be attached to a freight train, shunted off into sidings. It could take you up to ten days.”

“Ten days!” I exclaimed. “So what do you recommend?”

“I’d take the
Overland Limited,
” he said. “Pay for a second-class Pullman out of Chicago but it will get you there in just four days. And you’ll just change the once in Chicago. If you want to save some money buy your food at stations and skip the dining car.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll have to do it.”

“So when do you want to travel, ma’am?” he asked. When I said today’s train he burst out laughing. “Sorry, but the
Overland Limited
is booked up for weeks in advance. Everyone wants to go by the fastest and most comfortable route. I could probably get you out on the Western Pacific, Denver Rio Grande and Western routes, but it would mean changes and layovers.”

“Would you take a look and see if you have any seats for today?” I said. “I’ve been summoned to my husband in California as quickly as possible.” Having plucked up all of my courage to undertake this foolhardy journey I didn’t think I could face going back home again for another night and then repeating the good-byes all over again.

He flicked through the pages of a ledger. “Very well, but I can assure you that—” He stopped. “Well, blow me down. Would you look at that?” he said. I tried to see what he was pointing at but couldn’t read upside down. He looked up at me, as pleased with himself as if he’d produced a rabbit out of a hat. “There’s been a cancellation. You’re in luck. I’ve no sleeping berth between here and Chicago, but it would mean just sitting up the one night. But the cancellation is for a second-class berth between Chicago and San Francisco. That will be sixty-five dollars, please.”

My heart was in my mouth as I counted out the bills and handed over the sixty-five dollars. What would Daniel say to this extravagant purchase? Was I really doing the right thing?

Nine

My anxiety turned to anger as I came away with my ticket and followed the porter with our luggage across the station to the waiting train. The air was heavy with smoke as massive locomotives hissed and puffed. Whistles and shouts competed with the sound of running feet. I hurried to keep up with the porter. Why couldn’t Daniel have told me clearly what he wanted of me? Why did he have to put me through this?

Liam wriggled and squirmed in my arms and I wished there had been a way to bring his buggy with us. I’d have to try and rent or borrow one when I arrived in San Francisco because I certainly couldn’t carry him around until we found Daniel.

My bags were safely stowed in the baggage car. My seat was located for me—certainly not a wooden bench but a comfortable plush seat in a long car. The porter put my bag on the rack above my head and I settled down. Liam had been fascinated by the trains and was happy to stand on the seat beside me, looking out of the window. When I opened my purse to find my handkerchief I pulled out Gus’s envelope, which I had quite forgotten. I opened it, expecting to find a funny card or letter and was overwhelmed to see instead five twenty-dollar bills.

For emergencies,
was written on the note with them.

My eyes misted over at their kindness. Who knew what emergencies I might encounter before I was reunited with my husband?

The platform became a hive of activity. Porters wheeled mounds of luggage past our window. Smartly dressed couples headed for the first-class section of the train. For the first time I felt a small thrill of excitement. I was, after all, going across a vast country. I’d be seeing things I’d only dreamed of. And at the end of it I’d be with my husband, whether he actually wanted me there or not.

A whistle blew. A shout of “All aboard!” There were running feet. Then almost imperceptibly slowly we started to move forward. Then a little faster. At the end of the platform we plunged into the darkness of a tunnel. The air in the railcar became smoky and I tasted soot on my lips. Liam had been standing up, looking at the trains with fascination, but flung himself back into my lap with a wail as we went into the tunnel.

“It’s all right,” I said. “We’ll soon be out again.”

And we came back out into daylight. We were moving fast now and the streets of Manhattan soon gave way to the jumble of new rows of houses, old shacks, and market gardens that made up the northernmost reaches of the city. Then we crossed water on a bridge and were soon traveling along the edge of the Hudson River. Twilight was falling and the snow-clad hills were tinged with pink. The river glistened as it opened up to that lake, the Tappan Zee. Lights twinkled from small riverside towns, but we didn’t stop. We passed them one by one—Irvington, Tarrytown, Peekskill. I had had adventures in these towns, in my days as a working detective. I remembered the dangers I had encountered and felt a shiver of fear go through me. I was now a married woman with a child. Surely my life was now supposed to be safe and secure, and yet here I was setting off once again into the unknown.

Night fell completely as the river narrowed and we were in the wild, rocky country of the Catskills. Liam, exhausted by the emotions of the day and the new experiences, fell asleep. I continued to stare out of the window, as more old memories stirred. The mansion where I had stayed with Senator Flynn. And then the barn where Daniel and I had first made love. I remembered that all too clearly. I should never have let it happen. He was engaged to marry another woman at the time and I thought there was no hope for our future. But if I had pushed him away then, would I be sitting here now with a ring on my finger and a fine son lying in my lap?
What strange twists and turns there are to our lives?
I thought. One small decision can change the course of our histories. I paused, considering this. Would this small decision change the course of mine?

I had brought some food with me, not knowing if any would be available on the train. When Liam woke up again I fed him some hard-boiled egg and mashed vegetables. In a way I wished he were still nursing, as that would have solved the food problem, but then again it would have been hard with such lack of privacy. We’d both have to make do for a few days. I had a cold beef sandwich for myself, and then we shared some cake I had baked. I changed Liam for the night, glad that there was a lavatory close by, and he fell asleep easily enough, lulled by the rocking of the train. I didn’t find it so easy to sleep. It was hot in the car with some kind of forced-air heat in operation and Liam’s heavy body against me made me feel clammy and rather sick. The cold beef lay heavy on my stomach. I had never thought of myself as a poor traveler before and I sympathized with Mrs. Endicott when she had said that she would have been travel sick within the first hour. This thought made me question what I was doing yet again. Had Daniel been writing the truth and really meant that this journey was too difficult for me? How could sitting in a comfortable chair for several days be too demanding? I longed for a drink of water and wished I had brought some.

When we stopped in Albany around ten o’clock at night I lugged the sleeping Liam with me and found the station restaurant. There we both had a drink of milk and I bought cheese rolls for the morning. The milk calmed my stomach and we both slept as the train moved through the night. Morning dawned over a rural landscape still tinged with snow—neat farms and red barns making splashes of color against snowy fields. Liam awoke ready to play. I walked him up and down between the seats, pausing when older ladies wanted to make a fuss of him. Then he sat on the floor at my feet and played with his blocks. He was being amazingly good, I thought, and decided I had worried too much. Let us both enjoy this trip.

We pulled into Chicago’s Union Station at midday. I found a porter without too much trouble and my bags were taken to the ladies’ waiting room as the
Overland Limited
did not leave until four o’clock in the afternoon. That gave Liam plenty of time to run around and we both ate a good meal at the station restaurant of pot roast and vegetables followed by rice pudding. I bought several postcards and wrote the first one to Bridie, as I had promised to do, mailing it in the box at the station. I also bought food for the journey, hoping I could buy more plus milk for Liam at the various stops along the way.

Then at three thirty a porter took us and our luggage to board the
Overland Limited.
I found I was given what looked like a normal seat, until the porter explained to me that at night he would fold out the upper berth and turn the seat below into a bed. The porter was an older Negro man and Liam looked at him fearfully, having seen few colored people in his life. But when the man smiled at him and said, “Well, hello, big fellah, are you taking good care of your mama?” in his deep rumbly voice Liam smiled shyly back.

I had just taken my place and stood Liam beside me to watch the trains when I was joined by a young man.

“Here’s your berthmate, ma’am,” the porter said. “Mr. Paxton. This is Mrs. Sullivan, sir. And I’m Roberts. You just call on me if you want or need anything.”

It hadn’t crossed my mind before that men and women might be required to share sleeping quarters on a train. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him either. He looked quite flustered and said, “Mrs. Sullivan.… I hadn’t realized … I thought…”

“So did I, Mr. Paxton,” I said. “But I only got this berth because there was a cancellation, so I suppose the original occupant was a male. I hope you will not find it too disagreeable to be faced with a young child for several days. He’s usually quite well behaved.”

He gave me his best smile then. “Not at all. I’ll welcome the company. It’s the first time I’ve made such a journey myself and I’ve left my own wife and baby behind.”

I examined him with interest. He had a pleasant, open face, sandy hair and a freckled face that made him look very young.

“Do you come from Chicago?” I asked.

“No, from New York. I work for the Metropolitan Opera Company.”

I could not have been more surprised. He was certainly too slender for an opera singer and his attire would have made me think more along the lines of bank clerk. “Oh, my,” I exclaimed. “You’re an opera singer? Or a musician?”

He grinned. “Nothing so grand, I’m afraid. I’m assistant to the administrator and I’ve been sent out in advance to make sure everything is in order when the majority of the company arrives in San Francisco. Perhaps you have heard that they are to perform with Enrico Caruso?”

“I knew Caruso was to sing, but I hadn’t realized that the Metropolitan Opera was to perform with him.”

“Señor Caruso doesn’t think that local talent would be up to his standards and requested our company instead. He performed with us recently so he is comfortable reprising familiar roles with us. And so we’re taking the whole production to join him in San Francisco. Costumes. Scenery. The whole shebang. And I can tell you, it’s taken a lot of organization to ship everything across the country.”

“I’m sure it has, Mr. Paxton,” I said.

We both looked up as the train gave a sudden jerk, and then started to move.

“Looks like we’re off,” Mr. Paxton said. “Three days of sitting ahead of us, but I’ve heard there is glorious scenery ahead.”

We chuffed out of the city and soon were moving very fast, passing through unremarkable countryside, snow-streaked fields, lonely farms, patches of woodland with bare branches, and no sign of the spring that must be right around the corner. Night fell. Mr. Paxton went to find the dining car, while I retrieved the food I had brought with us. We had eaten a good lunch and neither Liam nor myself felt like anything more than a snack. We had just finished when Mr. Paxton returned, having brought with him an orange and some cookies.

“I sneaked out a treat for you,” he said, handing Liam a cookie.

Our porter came to make up the beds. I changed Liam into his nightclothes but didn’t think it was proper for me to change. Neither did Mr. Paxton apparently, although he did hang up his jacket. I lay on the bed with Liam beside me and sang to him softly until he fell asleep, then I tried to sleep myself. I was tired but sleep wouldn’t come. I had hoped that the rhythmic rocking would help me, but instead it made me feel rather queasy, as one does on a ship at sea. I ate one of the cookies and that helped a little. Eventually I nodded off and awoke to hear whistles and voices. We were not moving. It seemed we had arrived at Council Bluffs, Iowa, and dawn was just breaking.

I left Liam sleeping, asking Mr. Paxton to keep an eye on him, and disembarked to find food. I had a cup of strong black coffee, much stronger than I liked to drink it, but at that moment I was grateful for any warm liquid. I still felt a little queasy and it seemed too early to feel like breakfast, even though other passengers were tucking into hotcakes and sausage. I brought back a couple of sausages for later, plus some toast for Liam before we set off again, crossing the mighty Mississippi River into the Wild West. One could see the change in the landscape immediately. Instead of the neat fields of the day before there was now just grassland, brown and dry after the winter, with patches of snow clinging to hollows where the sun didn’t shine. Sometimes we saw cattle grazing. Sometimes just empty land. We stopped for an hour in Omaha and this time I took Liam for a proper breakfast and a good wash in the ladies’ facility. I washed as much of myself as I could reach too.