Westward the Dream (31 page)

33

The heat of the August sun bore down on Kiernan's neck as he rode to the Central Pacific supply office in Sacramento. Having traveled the better part of a week on horseback, Kiernan was on his way to find out what the problems were with the CP building schedule and secure supplies for the Donner Pass road.

Crocker had wanted to send someone else, but Kiernan felt a desperation to see Victoria. He couldn't stop thinking of her, and with each passing day it became more and more apparent that he would be of little good to anyone if he didn't get back home and sort through their differences.

It still grieved him to know that they'd parted on less than the best of terms. There had been a sort of amicable separation as Kiernan went north with Crocker, but the issues between them were still hovering ominously over them. Kiernan realized he'd allowed things to get completely out of hand. He should never have gone with Crocker without first making certain Victoria knew of his deep, abiding love. He should have dealt with his own guilt and grief long before leaving Sacramento, and he should have talked things over with Victoria.

It was funny how it all seemed so clear now. Maybe it took getting away for several weeks in order to see the truth of their circumstances. The fact of the matter was that long ago they had stopped talking to each other. Oh, they still maintained a surface appearance of discussion, but usually they talked only of mining or the railroad. Now that their separation had allowed him time to think about things, Kiernan realized he'd stopped seeking intimate discussions with Victoria about the same time he'd lost her fortune. This was hard to accept and take responsibility for, especially in light of the six years that had passed in the meanwhile. Kiernan could easily see every point where their refusal to speak on important issues of the heart had further driven a wedge in their marriage.

Lord, I've been a fool, he prayed. I'm hopin' it's not too late. I'm askin' ya to help me make things right again.

“Kiernan?” the voice of Ted Judah called from up ahead.

Kiernan waved and reined back on his mount. “Ted, it's good to be seein' ya.”

“I must say the same,” Ted replied. “We've nothing but a nightmare on our hands.”

Kiernan smiled and dismounted. “So the elephant refuses to be harnessed?”

Ted shook his head. “The elephant refuses to be an elephant.”

Laughing, Kiernan questioned his friend. “So what is this all about? A message came sayin' to discontinue work. What's happened?”

“Huntington,” Ted fairly growled. “That man will be the death of me yet. He has taken up refusing to listen to any advice I try to give him. Thinks he knows it all. I went to him with James Bailey and suggested he rethink his plans for moving the line from the river to ‘I' Street, but he wouldn't listen to me.”

“And when did he go decidin' to make this move?” Kiernan asked, pulling his horse over to the hitching post.

“Several weeks ago. I tried to reason with him, but he was concerned about the cost of putting in the flood barriers. Said it wasn't prudent and moved the line.”

“Did he, now?”

“He did, and when James Bailey and I complained, he simply told us it was for the best. The next thing we know, we're each presented with our share of the bill for the cost of moving the line.”

“How's that?” Kiernan was surprised about this sharing of the bill. It seemed odd indeed. “I was thinkin' ya had a central fund for these things.”

“Oh, we do, but money is tight. The board members all agreed to equally share the additional costs. James flatly refused, however. He said he'd not been given a voice in the matter and he wouldn't pay. Huntington proposed Bailey either sell out or pay up, and still James refused. With that, Huntington decided to halt production on the line. James and I have spent these last weeks trying desperately to find someone to buy out Huntington. I believe with him gone we'd be able to finally accomplish something positive with the line.”

“And did ya go findin' someone to buy him out?”

“No,” Ted replied, shaking his head in total dejection. “I thought we had Charles McLaughlin from Boston. But once Mr. McLaughlin found out that it was Huntington's stocks he'd been buying, he backed out. He wired to say that whatever would send Huntington out from the project would also keep him out.”

Kiernan considered suggesting his father-in-law as a prospective buyer, but with James not long in the country, a business transaction of this size might be difficult at best. Moreover, Kiernan feared that in discussing such a business arrangement, the loss of Victoria's money might come to light. He knew he was going to have to confess what had happened to James and Carolina. He just wished that when he did so, he might be a prosperous man in his own right.

“So now what?” Kiernan said.

“James is going to resign his position as secretary and sell off his stock.”

“For sure that's too bad. What about yarself?” Kiernan studied his friend. Ted was a man of determination and purpose. It seemed a shame that such misfortune should have to come to him in the midst of his dream.

Ted shook his head again. “I don't know. I'm beginning to think it may well be the only way.”

“Quittin'?”

“I've never been one to back away from a challenge, but this time is different. I'm tired of fighting a war nobody else seems to want to win.”

“Just doesn't seem like somethin' ya would be doin'.”

“I know it doesn't,” Ted replied. “And that's what makes it particularly hard. I'll probably sell out just as Bailey will do. Then Anna and I will return east, where things are more civilized and people understand the value of listening to those who have knowledge of a thing.”

“Oh, and they do that back east, do they? I never saw it when I was there.”

Kiernan laughed, but Ted would not be cheered or humored. “I should go talk to Anna. This will affect her too.”

Kiernan suddenly realized that Ted was quite determined about quitting the Central Pacific. “Wait, Ted. Don't be actin' in haste! Remember there's still a war going on back east!”

But it was too late. Ted Judah was no longer interested in discussing the matter further. He made his way down the street, shoulders hunched in his misery, his head bent as if in prayer.

Kiernan felt a deep sorrow for his friend, and even as he conducted business in the supply office, his mind was on Ted. After handing over the orders and paper work Crocker had sent with him and making provision for his mount, Kiernan dusted off his pants and headed up the road toward his apartment.

He quickly forgot about Ted and the issue of their possible move east. Now his mind was fixed on Victoria. He had to talk to her. Had to help her see that his heart had changed. He knew the problem and wanted to help bring about a resolution.

Pushing up the bill of his cap, Kiernan entered the apartment and took the stairs two at a time. He silently wished he could have stopped and cleaned himself up a bit more, maybe purchased Victoria some little trinket as a surprise, but there'd been neither the time nor money to waste.

Reaching the top step, Kiernan could see that the door to his apartment was wide open. That didn't make sense. What was Victoria thinking leaving it open like that? He approached without further consideration and stopped in stunned surprise at the sight before him.

Victoria was in the arms of another man—the very man she had danced with so long ago at the party. And Thorndike was taking a very obvious liberty by kissing her full on the mouth. Kiernan felt as though he were frozen in place. He saw the situation much like a dream, where he could only watch and do nothing.

“I told you to leave me alone!” Victoria demanded, struggling against the man's arms.

“But you don't mean it,” Thorndike said, trying to kiss her again.

Only when Kiernan saw that Victoria was fighting the man off was he able to shake away his stunned surprised and spring into action.

“And what would ya be doin' with me wife?” Kiernan yelled in a roaring voice that caused the man to instantly let go of Victoria.

Christopher Thorndike turned in surprise at the very moment Kiernan's fist connected with his nose. Thorndike gasped and cursed, his hand flying to his face only to encounter a trickle of blood oozing from his bashed nose.

Victoria backed away from the fight, but Kiernan caught the distinct expression of relief in her face as he went after Thorndike to finish the job.

Thorndike, however, was no fool. He was now ready for Kiernan and managed to get a glancing blow off to the side of Kiernan's head before Kiernan fisted the man again, this time bloodying his lip.

“Get out of me house and leave off with botherin' me wife.” His brogue was heavy, his tone deadly.

“You don't deserve her,” Thorndike said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He obviously believed this would signal an end to the physical portion of their fight.

But Kiernan was panting, thirsting for more, rage flaming in his green eyes. “Neither does the likes of yarself,” Kiernan retorted.

Kiernan, never one to stand on ceremony where a fight was concerned, grabbed the man and threw him out the door. Thorndike nearly fell over the banister, and Kiernan secretly wished the flimsy rail would give way and plunge the man to the floor below.

“If I ever see ya makin' after me wife again, I won't be responsible for what happens,” Kiernan shouted after him and slammed the door.

Turning back to face Victoria, Kiernan forced himself to calm down. It was one thing to see a man take obvious advantage of his wife, but it was another to wonder if she had encouraged such actions. Yes, she had been fighting him off, but Kiernan could only wonder and fear what might have led the man to take such liberties in the first place. Seeing her expression so totally stunned and filled with trepidation, Kiernan doubted the situation was her fault—praying, at least, that was the case. However, he was still hurt and angry, and the memory of Victoria in Thorndike's arms—not only here, but at the dance—was more than he could stand.

“So, wife, what do ya have to say for yarself?” His voice trembled over the words. He hated the accusation in his tone but could not help it.

Victoria shook her head in miserable despair. “I didn't ask him here, if that's what you think.”

Kiernan wrestled with his temper. He had to remain calm. “So what happened?”

“He came here of his own accord,” she replied, tears spilling from her eyes. “I was leaving to see Anna, and when I opened the door, he was there. He said he had to talk to me and he pushed his way in and . . . well . . . you saw the rest.”

“Aye, I did.” Kiernan pulled out a chair from the table. “I still don't understand why the likes of that man would show his face here.” He sat down and looked up at his wife. The expression on Victoria's face and the words that followed could not have stunned Kiernan more than had she slapped him.

“I suppose it was my fault,” Victoria confessed in a shamed whisper.

“Yar fault?”

She nodded and a sob broke through her lips. “I don't know where to begin—how to tell you.”

“Just tell me this, Victoria . . .” He could hardly force the words out, but he had to know. “Have ya been . . . were ya an' . . . ?”

She rushed to the table and dropped to her knees before him. “Please believe me, Kiernan! I was never unfaithful to you!” Tears flooded from her eyes, dampening his trousers as she bowed her head before him.

“Maybe ya better be tellin' me about it, then.” His voice was surprisingly even. But he feared he might start weeping with her if he gave in to the emotions raging inside him.

“Yes, I suppose I must.”

She looked up at him with such woebegone eyes, glistening with tears, that Kiernan thought his heart might break. Was she going to tell him their marriage was over? Had she given up on him and sought out Thorndike to rescue her from her fate? He waited in agony for her to continue.