Patchwork christmas, p.12
Patchwork Christmas, page 12
Somehow she managed to hobble back to her seat and retrieve her mending kit. She was trying to gather courage to move again when a porter came into the car. His mellow voice was kind as he held out a pillow and blanket “for the young lady.”
Jane shook her head. “That’s very kind, but we can’t—”
“Courtesy of the Union Pacific,” he said with a wink.
Jane could have hugged him. Instead, she snuggled the blanket around Molly.
“Name’s Henry, ma’am,” the porter said. “You need anything else, you let me know. I’m on all the way to Denver.” When Molly stirred and coughed, he glanced her way, then back at Jane. “Tea with lemon and honey? Be happy to bring some on my way through next time.”
“That’s very kind of you, but we—”She swallowed the words don’t have any money and forced a smile. “We’ll be fine.” She busied herself smoothing Molly’s blanket and blinked away desperate tears. The porter went on his way.
As the evening wore on, Jane learned that most of the people in the car had rented sleeping berths. Only one seedy-looking couple at the far end of the car had unfolded their seats to arrange makeshift sleeping quarters on the train car. Once again, Jane fought the temptation to wonder about the extent of Mr. Huggins’s devotion. Why couldn’t he have arranged for a berth? She and Molly would be on the train for two nights.
As the train swayed and the lamp the porter had turned down on his way through the car cast only the faintest glow, Jane once again made her way into the necessary. Removing her gloves, she laid them on the edge of the wash basin and lifted her skirt, fumbling beneath her bustle in a vain attempt to untie the ribbon holding her petticoat up.
The train swayed and she nearly lost her balance. She finally gave up and, taking her mending scissors, felt her way to cutting off one leg of her drawers, which she then cut into strips. Tying the strips together, she bound her injured knee as best she could, happy that the effort did seem to ease the pain a bit. It would help keep the swelling down. At least she hoped so.
Sacrificing her drawers was humiliating. But then, who would know? She supposed it was better to sacrifice drawers than a petticoat. Now that she thought about it, the drawers were definitely the way to go. An observant man might notice the absence of a petticoat. Was Mr. Huggins observant? The thought made Jane blush.
Someone knocked on the door. “You baking a cake in there? There’s other people on the train, ya know.”
Jane opened the door and apologized. It took all her willpower not to cry out in pain as she attempted to take a normal step into the aisle. The other woman didn’t notice, merely brushed past Jane and slammed the door, quite literally almost in her face. Blinking back more tears, Jane hobbled back to her seat. Grabbing the pillow the porter had left behind, she used it to cushion her knee as she settled opposite Molly on the bench vacated by passengers who’d disembarked at the last stop. Leaning her head against the frosted window, she closed her eyes and fell instantly asleep.
Jane started awake. Gray light. She glanced over at Molly, still fast asleep, only the top of her head showing from beneath the blanket supplied by the kindly porter. What time could it be? She gazed about the car. Had the others gone to breakfast? Her stomach growled at the thought. She moved gingerly, all thought on her injured knee as she lowered her feet to the floor. Was it her imagination, or did her knee hurt less? Please let it be better. Please.
She swiped at the window, wondering what stop they were at now. Snow. Bending low, she whispered at Molly’s still form, “Someone is frosting the world with white, princess. It’s snowing!”
Molly stirred. With an audible sigh, she tugged the blanket down and peered over the edge at Jane, croaking, “Snow?”
Jane nodded as she reached for the carpetbag tucked beneath their seat. “Snow and breakfast, if you’re hungry.”
Molly shook her head. Turning onto her side, she snuggled back out of sight. Jane broke off a bit of bread and had popped it into her mouth just as the porter made his appearance, bearing a steaming mug of tea.
“For the little lady,” he said, then offered it to Jane. “Or her mama, since the little lady is obviously not ready for breakfast.” He nodded toward Molly. “I was glad to note a distinct absence of coughing as I passed through in the night.”
Jane nodded, even as she declined the tea.
“Might as well drink it. You’ll be doing me a favor, actually. Someone in the next car ordered it, then changed their mind and decided to head up to the dining car. Said to just toss it out.” He looked down at the cup. Shook his head. “Never did understand how a body could add cream to a perfectly good cup of black tea.” He held it out. “Shame to let it go to waste.” When Jane finally relented, the porter nodded. “Next stop is Grand Island. They put on a good breakfast if you’re interested.”
“Thank you, but we’ve brought everything we need.”
The porter nodded again and continued on his way. Jane settled back to stare out the window at the empty landscape and the swirling snow, sighing with pleasure as the warm tea coursed down her parched throat.
Molly was still asleep when the train stopped at the place called Grand Island. Peering through the snow, Jane could see evidence of neither an island nor anything grand. When she said as much to the porter, he laughed.
“Can’t speak to the idea of ‘grand,’ but there is an island in the middle of the river. Lovely when it’s warm.” He cocked his head at the still-sleeping Molly. “That little miss is quite the little bedbug, isn’t she?”
“She was coming down with a cold when we left home. Hopefully she’s mending so she can enjoy the sights in Denver.”
The porter nodded. “I might ask you to move up to the Pullman if no one climbs aboard at the next stop. There’s no reason for the two of you to be back here all alone, and to tell the truth, it’ll lighten my load if I only have to keep one car warm. Word from up ahead is we’re headed into quite a storm. Thermometer’s dropping fast at Kearney Junction.”
Jane glanced out at the snow drifting softly to the earth.
“I know. It doesn’t look like much, but there’s nothing to stop the wind out here, and things can change fast.” The porter smiled. “Nothing to worry about. Even if we have to stop over at one of the stations and wait for the storm to blow by, the UP takes good care of its folks.” With a tip of his cap, he was on his way.
The train headed into the storm.
Molly woke not long after the snow began to fall in earnest, grimacing as she stretched her arms above her head.
“It’s about time you woke up.” Jane smiled and nodded outside. “It’s still snowing.”
Molly swiped a hand across the window to clear the steam away. “Wow.” She looked back at Jane, her cheeks red, her eyes bright with … something besides excitement.
Instinctively, Jane pressed her palm to Molly’s forehead. “Tell me how you feel.”
Molly frowned. When she opened her mouth to answer, her words were cut off by a dry, raspy cough. She grimaced. “My throat hurts. And … everything.”
“Everything?”
Molly nodded. “Everything hurts.”
And just like that, money and Mr. Huggins and the snowstorm became the least of Jane’s worries.
True to his word, the porter checked back with them after two more stops and suggested they move to the Pullman. “We’ve only two more passengers,” he explained, “and they’re getting off at Gibbon.
Shame to have that big fancy car and no one enjoying it.”
“I appreciate it,” Jane said. “Really, I do. But Molly isn’t feeling well, and I—well, I slipped on the ice at Omaha, and I’m afraid I’m about as useful as a lame horse at the moment. I’m sorry to make you walk the length of the train just because of us, but I don’t think—”
“How about I carry the young miss, and you lean on my arm?” The man didn’t wait for Jane’s reply before scooping Molly up. “She’s light as a feather. Reminds me of my little gal waiting at home.” With obvious practice, he shifted Molly to his right shoulder so that his left arm was free to assist Jane. He smiled. “I guarantee you’ll love the Pullman.”
Clutching their bags with her left hand, Jane tucked her right hand beneath the man’s arm and hung on. When they traversed the open space between the cars, she shivered. The thermometer was most definitely dropping. She glanced at the landscape, but swirling snow obscured everything.
The porter opened the door to the Pullman. Jane stared in amazement at the opulence—the brass fittings, the plush seats, the velvet drapes, the painted murals up above. Molly barely woke as the porter settled her in one of the overstuffed chairs while he made up a berth, then moved her once he had it ready. With Molly settled in, he stood back with a satisfied smile. “That’s better, don’t you think?”
“It’s wonderful,” Jane agreed. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
The porter smiled as he moved a chair close to Molly’s berth so Jane could stay close. “You just did, ma’am. If my wife and child were headed into a blizzard alone, I’d hope someone would see to their needs. ‘Do unto others’—isn’t that what the Good Book says?”
A stern male voice sounded from the front of the car, someone demanding the coffee he’d asked for “long ago.”
With a little salute, the porter headed off, leaving Jane to wonder at her good fortune, even as she worried over Molly’s red cheeks, the fringe of damp curls about her face, and the occasional whimper that sounded as she slept.
Chapter 3
The grumpy passenger who’d demanded so much of Henry’s attention disembarked at Kearney Junction midmorning. From where Jane sat by Molly’s berth, all she could see of the train station was a dark smudge in a world of white. Moments after the train headed out, Molly began to toss and turn. The porter brought more tea with honey, insisting that the UP would have his head if he didn’t offer comfort for an ailing child. “So please, ma’am, let’s not have any more arguments about the matter,” he said, and Jane relented. When Molly grimaced with each swallow, Jane’s stomach clenched a little more.
A few minutes later Molly whimpered for Katie, and Jane produced the rumpled rag doll with growing concern. Molly had been going through an I’m-too-grown-up-for-dolls phase. They’d only stuffed the doll in her carpetbag at the last minute. Now Jane sighed, alternately grateful for the comfort the beloved doll could give and worried over just how sick Molly was going to get.
Moments later, when Jane handed Molly’s empty teacup over,
Henry said, “Next stop is Elm Creek. There’s not much there save the store and the railroad eating house. But we can wire ahead for you and have the doctor at Plum Creek meet us. We’ll pull in there about 1:30 this afternoon if the storm doesn’t cause any delays.”
Jane shook her head. “I haven’t any way to pay a doctor. Unless—” Did she dare presume on Mr. Huggins to wire money? She swallowed and looked into the porter’s kind, dark eyes. “Surely she’ll be feeling better by then.”
Henry nodded. “The young ones have a way of bouncing back. I’m sure the good Lord can be trusted to undertake for the little miss.”
How Jane longed to be as certain as the porter seemed to be of God’s taking notice of one child on an empty train. She settled back in her chair, newly aware of her throbbing knee as she fought her fear with prayer. I haven’t asked You for anything in a long while. But this—this is important. Please let Molly get better quickly. Let us find a doctor who won’t take advantage. And let Mr. Huggins understand. We need his help. Please let him see that. Let him care.
Molly coughed again. Jane began to hum, then to sing, directing the words of a favorite lullaby toward Molly, who opened her eyes for a moment and smiled. “I like that one,” she croaked, then closed her eyes.
Jane’s stomach roiled with hunger. Breaking off another crust of bread from the increasingly stale loaf in her bag, she chewed and washed it down with the rest of the lukewarm tea Henry had brought her when he brought Molly’s. She’d just reached for the copy of Little Women, thinking to calm her own nerves by reading ahead, when, with the screeching of metal on metal, the train ground to a halt.
Frowning, Jane set the book aside and leaned toward the window, looking first this way and then that. Seeing nothing but a wall of white, she rose and limped to the door. She’d only cracked it open when the roar of the wind and a blast of snow made her yank it shut. With a shiver, she rubbed her arms and sat back down, but not before pulling her coat down to use as a lap robe.
Molly stirred. “Are we there?” She lifted her head, frowning as she glanced at the window.
“It’s snowing even harder,” Jane said. “I think we must be at the next stop, but I can’t tell.”
“I’m c–cold.”
“I’ll see if I can get you another blanket.” Jane rose and hobbled toward the front of the car, searching the compartments overhead as she moved along. Finally she located a thick red-and-black-striped blanket. Shaking it out, she made her way back to Molly. She’d just tucked it around when someone stepped into the car—someone new, Jane thought. He was taller than the porter, his face obscured by a turned-up collar, a bushy mustache, and the flaps of his hat pulled down to cover his cheeks.
His black eyes glittered as he glanced to where Molly lay, peering at him above the edge of the blankets. He nodded at Molly, then turned to Jane. “S. C. Parr, ma’am. Henry’s readying a place for you and the little miss up in the dining car. Sorry to make you move again. Won’t be as comfortable up there, but we’ll do our best. Crew’s on its way to clear the tracks, but it could be awhile. Soon as the storm stops, I expect the stationmaster at Elm Creek will get word as to what to expect. Until then, we’ve enough food to get by for a few days. Fuel’s scarce, but we won’t freeze. Henry’ll be back to fetch you soon as we’re ready to hunker down.”
Jane frowned. She glanced out the window. “Hunker … down?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ve hit a wall. Of snow, that is. Drifted up so high there’s no way through. At least not right now. As soon as the storm blows past, we’ll get out with our shovels and get to digging out. Crews will be heading our way from the west as well. I don’t imagine we’ll be stuck longer than a day or two. Hopefully not even that long.”
Jane’s heart began to pound. “But—my daughter—the porter was going to see about a doctor at Elm Creek.”
“I know, ma’am. And we’ll do what we can about that as soon as possible. In the meantime, you enjoy whatever accommodations the UP can provide—gratis.“
Jane thanked him, just as Henry stepped into the car with an armful of blankets. With a nod, the other man was gone.
“Got things set up for you,” he said, and handed Jane two more blankets. “Wrap yourself up good. Thermometer’s dropping faster than a frog falling down a well. Don’t you worry, though. We’ll be toasty up in the dining car.” He grinned. “Toasty and well fed. Mr. Parr said to use up whatever we want.” He scooped Molly up and headed for the door. “I’ll come back for your bags, ma’am. Soon as we get the little miss and you settled up by the best stove on the train—aside from the boiler, that is.” Before opening the door, he put a blanket over Molly’s head.
Jane hobbled after Henry as best she could. When the car door opened, snow blasted into the Pullman. The wind roared. Henry didn’t have to tell Jane to hold on tight. Even so, she felt compelled to lean against the wind whistling between the two stalled cars. Once in the dining car, she ventured another look outside, shivering at the thought of anyone caught out in the blizzard.
As promised, the dining car was warm and inviting. Henry stretched across a table to lay Molly as gently as possible on one of the cushioned benches. Jane thanked him and slid onto the opposite bench as Henry retreated to get their bags. It wasn’t quite noon yet, but as soon as Henry returned, he began to light the elegant brass lamps hanging overhead. The glow of lamplight did little to make it feel warmer. Jane pulled her own blanket around her shoulders, newly aware of her numb feet and fingers. How far had the thermometer dropped? How cold would it get? Molly whimpered, and Jane moved to her bench, doing her best to gather the child in her arms, all the while trying to ignore the frisson of fear that ran up her spine.
As the storm raged and Molly slept, Jane alternately worried and read. When the wind finally died down, she limped to the doorway and peered out, gasping at the realization that the train was virtually buried in a drift. It was impossible to see beyond the edge of the platform connecting the dining car to the coal car ahead.
The crew worked to dig them out, and as the afternoon wore on into evening, they managed to clear away the snow so that Jane and Molly could see out the windows on the north side of the car. Only an occasional shadow stained the white surface of the earth, albeit without giving a hint of what might lay beneath the drift. As the light faded, snow began to fall again.
Molly woke and croaked a request that Jane read to her, but as Jane opened the book, she cocked her head. “You hear that?” She sat up and swiped at the frosted window, peering outside.
Could it be? Jane slid over to the window on her side of the table and squinted into the distance.
