Westward the Dream (15 page)

“Do you mind some company?” he asked as he joined her.

“Not a bit. But is yar party over so soon?”

“They are having a grand time without me.” He grinned. “I've never been completely at ease as the center of attention.”

“I be feelin' the same way.”

“But I thought all Irish liked a raucous time.”

“That would be like saying all Americans are industrious,” she countered. “And we both know 'tis not so.”

“And is that why you didn't come to my party, Caitlan?”

She glanced up at him; then her gaze skittered away. “Would ya be walkin' with me, Brenton?”

Brenton held out his arm, and she hesitated only a moment before linking hers with his. He tried to think it was merely a gentlemanly gesture, yet he couldn't ignore the thrill that coursed through him at her touch and her closeness.

“So, Caitlan,” he said to get his mind off what he was feeling, “you didn't answer my question.”

“And ya know exactly why I did not come,” she answered shortly. “It was yarself who convinced Jordana when I first came here of the masquerade of me bein' her maid.”

“But I realized soon after that it was a foolish idea. You are family, Caitlan, and I don't know how it is in Ireland, but at least in the Baldwin family we respect and accept one another equally.”

She lifted grateful but sad eyes to him. “And for sure, yar the rare one, Brenton. Ya know well enough most people don't feel that way. The Vanderbilts might have accepted me for your sake, but the fact would never change that I did not belong as a guest at their party. Ya can dress me up all ya like, and I'd still not be fittin' company for the likes of them. And it makes it even worse that I work for them. How do you think the other servants would be feelin' havin' to serve me, their equal?”

“Well, I missed you.”

She smiled at him, and he saw that she needed no green material to highlight her eyes. Even with the gray cloak pulled over her dress, her eyes were as green as the isle where she was born.

“I wanted to be there . . . for ya.” She sighed and looked away. “I'm hopin' ya understand.”

“I do,” Brenton answered with sincere intensity. “I see that it is hard to place yourself into a position where you feel less than qualified to perform. It's rather like this whole idea of going to California.”

Her gaze returned to his. “And why would ya be seein' it that way?”

Brenton shrugged, initially hesitant to share his inadequacies with this dear girl. Yet he sensed that she more than anyone would understand, and, for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he wanted her to know his whole heart. “My parents entrusted a huge responsibility upon me by placing Jordana in my care, so now I feel I may jeopardize that trust by taking you two west. I feel I am not worthy of the task—not only for Jordana's and your care, but also for the work with which Mr. Vanderbilt is entrusting me.”

“Ya'll do a good job.” Caitlan's green eyes penetrated his worried soul. “Ya always do.”

“Jordana says I'm a ninny for my worry.”

“Yar no ninny, Brenton,” Caitlan protested, the emphasis of her words touching his heart. “Yar an honorable man. There aren't many like ya in the world, and those we find should be cherished—that is, I mean . . .” She ended in a fluster.

He felt his cheeks grow hot and prayed she didn't look at him just then. “I suppose I must just step out in faith.” Caitlan's gaze wandered to the played-out flower beds.

They were silent for some time. Brenton grew so lost in thought he did not notice that Caitlan had looked back to study him, until her soft Irish brogue caused him to turn his head and meet her eyes.

“Yar a good man, Brenton. I believe in ya. I know ya won't fail us.”

Her confidence in his ability caused his heart to swell with pride. She treated him as no other woman did. Even Meg Vanderbilt, in all her girlish adoration, was no more than an awestruck little sister. Not so Caitlan. She treated him like a man. She made him feel alive, special, powerful. If she had asked him to sprout wings and fly, he felt he would be able to do so on nothing more than her desire. She believed him capable of anything—and with her near, he could almost believe it himself.

It was after dark when Brenton and Jordana bid their farewells to the Vanderbilts.

“Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt.” Brenton gave each a bow. “Thank you so much for the birthday party. You have truly helped fill the void left by my parents' absence. I am honored and quite content. I look forward to embarking on our business venture, but I shall miss the company of such valued friends.”

“We shall keep in close touch.” Billy slapped Brenton on the back. “Come, I'll see you to your carriage.”

As a servant was helping Jordana into her burgundy wool cloak, she turned toward her host. She had struggled the entire evening over the matter of G.W. and knew she could not leave without somehow easing her pain. “Mr. Vanderbilt, would you please answer a question?”

“But of course, Jordana,” Billy replied. “What is it?”

Jordana finished up her buttons as though gathering her courage with each closure. She looked up to meet Vanderbilt's curious expression and bit her lower lip.

“I never meant to hurt your brother. You must believe that. I care very much for G.W., and I long only that he would allow our friendship to continue. I wonder if you might approach him on my behalf. Might you appeal to him as one brother to another, pleading my cause?” Each word was an agony for Jordana. She took friendship seriously and maintained only a few friends whom she could call intimates. G.W. had been one of those, and now he was gone—not only physically but emotionally as well. The fact tore at her heart.

“Jordana, I will speak to that pigheaded fool and do what I can to rebuild your bridges.” He placed a fatherly arm around Jordana's shoulders. “G.W. can be ten kinds of idiot when it comes to getting his own way. No doubt he thinks if he makes you suffer long enough, you'll capitulate to his proposal. But I say stand your ground and follow your heart. Perhaps once this war is over, and you've had time to grow up and experience your own adventures with Brenton, you'll be more inclined to consider G.W.'s request. And by that time his health should be restored and he'll see things more reasonably.”

“Perhaps so,” Jordana conceded. “But for now, I miss his friendship and hate that he's angry with me. I've never known such a burden before.”

Billy chuckled. “I've had many a man angry at me, and my skin is pretty thick, but I wouldn't wish such toughness upon you even if it would lighten your present load.” He gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “You are like a daughter to me, which I don't mind telling you is both good and bad. Good, because I hold great affection and concern for you. Bad, because after all these years of fatherhood, my daughters remain great mysteries to me.”

Jordana smiled. “My father says that women are always a mystery to men. And my mother assures me that it will always be so.”

At this, both Vanderbilt and Brenton laughed.

17

“I think with a little more rest, she'll be just fine,” Anna Judah told a worried Kiernan. “Victoria's young. A little pneumonia is a frightful thing, but Doc did a good job in getting her on the way to recovery. And you were right to leave your surveying work in the mountains in order to seek my help in caring for her.”

She arranged the covers and touched the back of her hand to the younger woman's forehead. Victoria slept on in complete oblivion, while Kiernan felt useless and totally miserable. He had failed Victoria and their dream, and now, in spite of his finding steady work, they were still practically penniless and dependent upon the care of their friends.

“Now, Kiernan, don't you worry about a thing. Ted told me he was sending you out to talk with Charles Crocker about a job at his dry-goods store. That will tide you over until you can return to the mountains. I think you'll like it there, and I know you'll love it here in Sacramento. Just give it a chance.”

Kiernan shrugged, his gaze still fixed on Victoria's exhausted form. She looked like a little girl snuggled there under the covers. Her rich chestnut hair splayed across the pillow, framing her pale face. She'd lost weight she could ill afford and looked as if she could scarcely bear the assault of the sickness. Sighing heavily, he stepped out of the room, leaving her to the care of Anna Judah.

The kindness of Anna and Ted had been overwhelming. It couldn't have come at a more perfect time, and because they were already well acquainted, sharing a working relationship and friendship in Dutch Flat, Kiernan didn't feel quite so misplaced in accepting their charity.

But in spite of this, Kiernan could not put aside his feelings of failure. He had taken Victoria from the family she loved—from the city of her birth—and dragged her halfway across the world. Or it might as well be. There was still nothing short of a lengthy, dangerous trip to reunite them with the eastern coast of the country. And given their financial status, it would take a miracle to ever secure enough money to make their way east.

Kiernan walked to the end of the hall, gazed out the window that filled the little reading nook, and plopped down on the cushioned bench seat. The cranny seemed like something Victoria would enjoy. A little place to curl up with a good book or a basket of sewing and escape the noise and rush of the world.

Putting his head in his hands, Kiernan tried to pray. He prayed for strength and wisdom in order to know what to do next. He prayed for guidance and the ability to endure whatever came his way. He prayed, too, for the health and recovery of his young wife. But no matter his words, his prayers seemed to go no higher than the ceiling before bouncing back unanswered. It was like undeliverable mail. Posts written in haste and scribbled off to the last known address, only to be returned because the occupant had moved to another location.

Had God moved to another location?

Kiernan smiled at his own contemplation. God hadn't moved at all—but perhaps Kiernan had. He didn't want it to be so. He had nearly lost his faith as a boy in Ireland seeing the hopeless plight of his family. Such had indeed happened to his brother Red and other family members. But upon arrival in America, Kiernan realized that facing life alone in a new land without faith was an even worse plight. As he relied more upon God, he gained a hope and strength that his tough, burly brother lacked. He knew he must now cling to his faith, even though, and especailly because, things seemed so dark.

“Kiernan?” Anna Judah called softly.

He looked up and forced a smile. “Sorry, I felt like I should go. Doesn't seem to be anythin' I can do.”

Anna smiled sweetly and reached out to take hold of Kiernan's arm. He got to his feet and allowed her to lead him downstairs. “You have a great deal to do. There is much you must and should be responsible for. Don't feel bad that you are unable to be nursemaid as well.”

Kiernan nodded and let her guide him to a chair in her dining room. “Now, we will have lunch and then you will go and speak with Ted's friend Mr. Crocker. While you are gone, I shall send my maid out to inquire about housing for you and Victoria. I thought I heard about a little apartment not three blocks from here.”

Kiernan sighed. It took every bit of his nerve to admit they were broke. “ 'Twould do me little good, even if such a place were available. I've used most of our money just to get us here. For sure we couldn't hike out with Victoria so sick, so we took the stage and it drained our funds. I barely have enough to give ya for Victoria's care.”

“Nonsense,” Anna said firmly. “You owe me nothing, and you and Victoria will stay on with Ted and me until you're back on your feet. Kiernan,” she paused and reached out to take hold of his hand in a motherly fashion, “don't let your pride defeat you. There will be plenty of other chances to prove your manhood. To my way of thinking, it takes a stronger man to admit his need for help than one who allows his family to suffer for his pride.”

“Aye,” Kiernan replied with a sigh. Anna was a fine woman, but she thought and reasoned as any female would. It was impossible for her to understand the dynamics of his situation. He had taken a wife, and it was his responsibility to support and keep her. His da had never needed to seek another man for help—not while he'd lived. Of course, his mother had needed a great deal of help after his father's death, but that had been different. He and his older brother, Red, had been quite proud, and once they were able to take on the full responsibility of their mother and younger siblings, Kiernan had felt a purpose to his life that he'd never known before. People needed him. People he loved and cared about. Their well-being was dependent upon his ability to provide and do his part. Selflessly he had labored and toiled, always thinking of them and their need.

Coming to this great land had been an extension of that task. He had desired nothing more than to earn enough money to bring his remaining family to America. He mourned that his mother had succumbed to her fragile health and broken heart, but he had sisters and brothers, and they deserved a chance in this golden land of opportunity. The only problem was, Kiernan hadn't seemed able to hang on to that opportunity for himself.

“Ah, here's Li Xian with our soup,” Anna said, breaking into his thoughts.

Kiernan looked up into the black eyes of the Chinese maid. She was a tiny woman, barely matching his height while he was seated in a chair. Anna had told them that Li Xian was only sixteen years old but had been rescued out of a life of slavery in San Francisco and brought here by kindly missionaries.

The girl refused to look Kiernan in the eye; instead, she placed the soup in front of him and put another bowl at the place of her mistress.

“Thank ya,” Kiernan murmured, knowing the girl would say nothing in response. She gave a tiny bow and hurried back to the kitchen before anything more could be said.

“She's so quiet,” Kiernan said as Anna took her seat.

“Yes. She's very shy. It's the way of most women in her society. They are taught to remain silent.”

Kiernan grinned. “I can't imagine Victoria assumin' that role.”

Anna laughed. “Nor can I. Your wife is quite a woman. I have come to love her company, and I shall miss her when I go east with Ted.”

“And when will ya go?”

“Not for a time. Ted thinks maybe next summer or even later. Hopefully by then the war will be over.”

Kiernan nodded. “I know Victoria will miss ya greatly. Maybe the war will indeed end before then, and maybe I'll strike it rich in the meantime and she can accompany ya in order to visit her parents.” He paused and shook his head in defeat. “Of course, maybe the Sierra Nevadas will simply part like the Red Sea and let yar husband lay the railroad through without any need to blast.”

Anna smiled. “Have faith, Kiernan. This is but a minor setback. Things will get better. You'll see.”

Kiernan's meeting with Charles Crocker seemed to reaffirm Anna's suggestion. Crocker, a tall, heavyset man of forty, was one of the board of directors for the newly formed Central Pacific. He had a lighthearted, almost comical disposition—quick with a joke or some other witty quip, and a personable nature that drew both men and women to frequent his store.

“If Ted says you're worthy of my attention, then I trust that's true,” Crocker said, securing a white canvas apron to cover his clothing. “Why don't you tell me about yourself?”

“There doesn't seem much ta tell,” Kiernan said, his brogue getting the best of him. Whenever he was nervous or filled with emotion, the telltale sign of his Irish heritage would ring loud and clear in his words. It wasn't that he tried purposefully to deceive anyone into believing him anything but Irish, but he had tried to talk with less of an accent since first stepping foot in America. It seemed appropriate somehow that he make himself as much an American as possible. After all, Ireland had turned her back on him long ago, and America had welcomed him with open arms. Somehow, his allegiance had made a transfer in the process.

“I came here durin' the famine,” he told Crocker. “Me brother Red and I worked for the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal Company for a spell. Then we went to work for the B&O. They were good to us there, and for certain I'd work for them again.”

Crocker seemed to perk up at this. “Yes, Ted told me you had railroad experience. Tell me all about it. What did you do for the B&O?”

Kiernan shrugged. “Whatever I was told.” He grinned, beginning to feel relaxed by Crocker's easygoing nature. “I laid track, blasted mountains, surveyed on the line with me father-in-law—only, he wasn't me father-in-law then.”

“So you met your wife through the railroad.”

“Aye,” Kiernan replied with pride. “And she's quite a woman. Followed me out here, she did, and I don't reckon I could have asked for a better mate.”

Crocker nodded. “I heard tell she was sick.”

“She is, but Mrs. Judah is carin' for her. She believes Victoria will be feelin' quite herself before long.”

“That's good news. If you need anything at all, you just have Anna send Li Xian on over to get it.”

Kiernan didn't know what to say. The man offered him help as though Kiernan could repay the kindness. Boldly, he took his chances. “And would that be meanin' yar offerin' me the job?”

Crocker laughed. “It's always been yours, Kiernan. Once Ted told me about you, I figured you were a man I'd want to keep close at hand. We'll be able to use you once the Central Pacific actually breaks ground. Would you mind going back into railroad work?”

Kiernan thought about it only long enough to remember the image of his exhausted wife so tiny and frail in Anna Judah's guest bed. “I'd go back in a minute.”