Maggie's Journey (McKenna's Daughters) Page 11

  The conductor came down the aisle, stopping occasionally to speak with one of the passengers. Finally he reached them.

  “How are you folks doing?” From his smile, Maggie could see how much the man enjoyed talking to the different people on the train.

  “We’re just fine.” Charles quickly answered the man. “I’m taking care of the ladies.”

  Maggie just rolled her eyes and shook her head, but neither Georgia nor Charles noticed. That man was just too cocky. He was taking care of the ladies. Smugness dripped from his tone. Before they left Seattle, Maggie had toyed with the idea that Charles might be a good man for her, but after this first part of their journey, she could see that he would never look at her as anything but a younger friend. He had his sights set on someone older, hopefully wiser, and definitely more sophisticated.

  But what was Georgia doing flirting back? Was she bored, or did she really find him fascinating? Maggie was sure Charles believed the latter. She watched the conductor move on down the aisle toward the back of the car.

  “So, Charles, why did you think it was a good idea to go into partnership with Joshua?” Georgia’s question pulled Maggie’s attention back to her traveling companions. “What will you gain from the merger?”

  Maggie wanted to hear what he would say about that. Although she knew her father wouldn’t enter into a deal unless he knew it was a good one, was Charles mature enough to look at it that way too?

  Charles stretched his long legs until his feet were under the other end of the seat Maggie sat on. He stared at the roof of the railroad car as if something interesting was written there. “I believe my grandfather would have made the same deal. In this modern time, we need to be innovative. Stepping bravely into the future, making a difference.”

  What is he going on about? He sounded as if he were making some kind of political speech. In addition to being brash, he was wordy. Why didn’t he just say what he meant?

  “I read the New York Times when it reaches Seattle. All kinds of innovations are taking place on the eastern side of our country.”

  More drivel. Where is the young man I remember? He sounded like a stuffed shirt.

  “They have new stores that are a combination of an emporium, like the one Joshua owns, and stores that sell other merchandise. Some are called department stores, because they have several different areas that showcase specific items.”

  He propped one ankle across the other one and laid his arm along the back of the seat only a hair’s breadth from Georgia’s shoulders. Maggie wondered why her aunt didn’t move farther away from him.

  “That’s not exactly what we are doing. Since both the Caine Emporium and Stanton Fine Furniture carry only top-quality items, and because we share the same building, Joshua and I felt that by combining the two stores, we’d have a lot to offer the discerning customer.”

  He flashed his smile at Georgia, and she seemed to be hanging on to his every word. At least Maggie could hold her derisive laughter inside. She wondered if he had any idea just how pompous he sounded. This was going to be a long journey.

  The door at the end of the car opened, and the conductor headed back toward them. “We’ll be stopping in Denver overnight.”

  He stopped beside their seats, and Charles straightened and turned his attention toward the man. “That’s something to look forward to. Is there a hotel where we can spend the night?”

  “You might like the Windsor. A mighty fine place.” He nodded. “Haven’t been inside myself, but it’s a recent construction. People say it’s a good place to stay.”

  Charles rose to his feet. “Do you think we’ll have any trouble getting a room there?”

  “I’m on this run most of the time, and none of our passengers have had a problem.”

  The train jerked from side to side even more than before, and he grabbed hold of the back of the seat. So did Charles.

  The conductor peered out through the window. “We’re approaching the Continental Divide. You folks might find it fascinating.”

  He gave them a salute and headed on down the aisle.

  When Charles had told them about this phenomenon, it had been hard to picture. Anything Maggie could have imagined would have never matched the enormity of the peaks with so much rocky area above the timberline. For a while the train seemed to have trouble puffing up the rails that wound toward the top. And for some reason, Maggie had a hard time catching her breath.

  Not too long after they finally crossed the mountain and headed down the other side, they arrived in Denver. When the train pulled into the station, Charles made arrangements for their transportation to the Windsor Hotel, a luxurious place with soft feather beds and beautiful, lushly carpeted rooms. Electric lights made the place bright and welcoming.

  And the food in Denver was especially delicious. Maggie enjoyed the fine cuisine instead of the home cooking they’d had along the way.

  After she finished eating, Maggie arose. “Please excuse me. I’m really tired, and I want to get all the rest I can while we have real beds.”

  She hoped Georgia would accompany her back to the room.

  Charles stood. “I’ve made all the arrangements for anything you might need. And I think I’ll stay here and have some of that pie the waitress told us about. Georgia, would you like to join me?”

  When her aunt agreed, Maggie had to grit her teeth to keep from rolling her eyes. What were the two of them thinking? Shouldn’t they also try to get extra rest? She imagined even more of the flirting that would take place in this dining room. At least she didn’t have to watch it.

  Perhaps the best part of staying in the hotel was the large brass bathtub that Charles ordered brought to the room she and Georgia shared. Soaking in the warm water and washing her hair made Maggie feel like a new woman.

  The next morning she didn’t want to get back on the train, even though it was taking her closer to her grandmother, and they had come too far to turn back. They left Denver and headed east away from the mountains. During the rest of Colorado and Kansas, the landscape was fairly level, with gently rolling hills. The scenery was also more monotonous after the wild beauty they’d enjoyed.

  On this side of the Continental Divide, the railroad stations were situated in larger towns and had more modern restaurants where they stopped. Maggie felt as if they had returned to civilization.

  They got off the train in St. Louis. They had to change trains, and theirs wouldn’t leave until the next day. Charles took them by trolley to the Hotel Barnum, where they once again bathed and went to the dining room for a good meal.

  After they had ordered their food, Charles turned toward Georgia. “Have you stayed here on any of your trips back home?”

  “No.” She glanced around the room with electric lights on the walls and lovely wallpaper above the wainscoting. “It’s a lovely place.”

  “I’m glad I’m the first man to bring you here.” He murmured the words softly.

  But Maggie heard every one. She felt like an intruder in this group of three, and she was getting tired of it.

  Georgia glanced at Maggie. “How do you like this hotel?”

  She turned her attention toward her aunt and gave a wan smile. “It’s lovely, but I’m really looking forward to sleeping in a real bed once more. As soon as I finish eating, I’m going up to the room.”

  “So soon?” Her aunt sounded concerned. “But it will be so early.”

  “Georgia, we could stay and visit for a while longer.” Charles had eyes only for her aunt. “Or we could take a stroll. The weather is really nice outside.”

  “I’d like a walk after being on the train so long.”

  While they ate, the conversation bounced around the table, but mostly between Charles and Georgia. Maggie didn’t contribute much to the discussion. And she didn’t want to spend more time with them tonight. She hurried up to the room on the third floor and quickly got ready for bed. If they wanted to carry on such a blatant flirtation, let them. She would get a rea
lly good night’s sleep.

  After breakfast, they took the trolley to the station to board the train bound for Little Rock. They had been riding the other train east. This one took them southwest from St. Louis. After they’d ridden through a large section of Arkansas, they could see the Ozark Mountains in the distance. These mountains weren’t as tall as the Rockies, but they had their own unique qualities. The train had crossed the Ozarks in Missouri before they reached St. Louis. The same mountains spilled from Missouri into Arkansas.

  Maggie could hardly believe the train had almost reached their destination. She’d known the trip would be long, but this one had seemed endless. She couldn’t imagine how those thousands of people who crossed half the continent on a wagon train kept from going crazy. Riding the train was monotonous, but being confined to a wagon behind slowly plodding oxen had to be far worse. Maybe after they returned home, she’d ask Daddy and Mother about their journey. Now she had something with which to compare it.

  •••

  Florence sat on her dressing stool, fascinated as she watched Ingrid dress her hair in an elaborate style. When she gave the girl to Margaret as her personal maid, she’d had no idea she was so talented. Thinking about her daughter made her wonder where Margaret and Georgia were right now. Had they reached Little Rock? Were they all right?

  Even though she worried about them on their journey, she felt more settled than she had in a long time. Could it be because Margaret wasn’t in the house? If that was the truth, why did her being gone make a difference?

  She wouldn’t let her thoughts return to the night of her daughter’s birthday party. Too many painful memories would assail her, and she wasn’t ready to delve into the reasons Margaret had been like a stranger to her that night. If she ignored the situation, maybe the pain would eventually subside, and when her daughter returned home, they could discuss it dispassionately. High emotions had contributed to their impasse.

  “How do you like it now?” Ingrid stood behind her awaiting her approval.

  “It’s really beautiful, Ingrid. You may go now.”

  The girl curtsied. “Thank you, ma’am.” She turned and left the room.

  Florence leaned closer to the mirror and tried to smooth the crow’s feet beside her eyes and the grooves on either side of her lips. She remembered the smooth face that had smiled back at her for so many years. Her youthful beauty has slipped away without her noticing. Had Joshua taken note of its disappearance?

  The last week and a half with him had been wonderful. Of course, he worked every day, but he hadn’t gotten home late a single time. And often, he came home early.

  He’d planned several special times for them. He took her to Squire’s Opera House on Commercial Street to hear a young singer from Norway who was touring the United States, billed as The New Jenny Lind. Too bad the poor girl had that name tied to her performances. The phrase was all the people remembered. Right now Florence couldn’t even remember her name. Something like Mara, or Maya, or Maria, or something like that. Magda. That’s it.

  At least the girl could really sing. She sang several arias and even a couple of duets with one of the local male singers. A thoroughly enjoyable evening.

  They had dined out with friends on three occasions, and she and Joshua had spent pleasant evenings at home. When they were here, he didn’t bury himself in work in his study as he had for years. Instead, they really talked to each other. He always brought up memories of times gone by when they were so happy, making them live again in her mind. And when they retired for the evening, she welcomed being cradled in his arms, receiving his love in a way that they had almost lost over the years.

  Tonight they were going to a ball at the Arlington House hotel. She went to stand before her cheval mirror. This blue taffeta evening gown set off her figure to perfection. She loved the sound of the swish when she moved. And Margaret designed it. The thought crept into her mind. Why did she resent her daughter’s abilities? Hadn’t she enjoyed the fruits of her labor many times?

  Florence hoped Margaret was enjoying her trip, and she wasn’t going to let her thoughts linger on the problems with her daughter. If she did, they would inevitably take her to that long-ago night and her own selfish desires. A blight upon her soul.

  Tonight she planned to enjoy her husband’s company and push everything else from her mind.

  Chapter 12

  Maggie didn’t have any idea what to expect when they arrived in Little Rock, but excitement throbbed through her veins. As the train pulled into the station, she noticed the hustle and bustle of a busy town instead of a country village. Several clusters of people waited on the platform. Perhaps they were meeting arriving passengers or were there to start their own travels. A smile spread across her face. All this boded well for the time they’d be here. They wouldn’t be stuck in some backwoods place without modern conveniences.

  When the train stopped, Charles helped the women gather their belongings. He went down the steps and set his luggage beside him on the platform, then reached for Maggie’s carpetbag as well. She slipped her hand into his proffered one and let him help her. Even though she had been annoyed by the way he pursued Georgia on the trip, she still enjoyed the feeling of connection when their hands met. Too bad he didn’t experience the same thing. She pulled hers away, sure he hadn’t noticed her quickened heart rate, because Charles turned his attention toward Georgia, even grasping her fingers much longer than needed.

  Turning around, Maggie let her gaze rove over the area. She especially noticed the people. Many of the ladies were dressed in the height of fashion that she had seen in Harper’s Bazar, while others looked as if they’d just come in town off a farm. The diversity mirrored what she saw in Seattle every day.

  Her aunt, who was taller than she, stood on her tiptoes and searched the crowd. “There he is.” Georgia hurried toward a tall man dressed in livery, his hat tucked under his arm.

  Maggie grabbed her bag and followed as fast as she could. She didn’t want to lose sight of her aunt, who easily wove through the crowd without displacing anyone. Charles followed behind Maggie.

  “There you are, Miss Geor . . . Miz Long.” The black man with grizzled hair pumped Georgia’s hand enthusiastically, while his wide smile revealed a gold tooth nestled in front. “So good to have you home again.”

  Not exactly the way servants in the Caine household would act. Maggie knew Florence would not allow such a thing. Since she had a more relaxed relationship with the Jorgensens when Florence wasn’t around, she wondered if things would be different when they were around her grandmother too.

  “Thank you, Tucker.” Georgia turned back just as Maggie caught up. “He’s been Mother’s driver since before I left home. I don’t think your mother ever met him though.”

  Charles thrust out his hand. “Glad to meet you. I’m Charles Stanton.”

  After staring at it for a protracted moment, Tucker slapped his hat on his head and gave Charles a hearty handshake. “And this must be Miz Agatha’s granddaughter.” The man’s eyes twinkled when he turned his smile toward her. “She real excited you come for a visit.”

  Knowing that her grandmother had been talking about her sent pleasure streaking through Maggie. For the first time in a while, she felt wanted, and maybe even loved. And the woman hadn’t even met her yet.

  He turned toward Georgia. “Tell me how much luggage y’all have.”

  Charles handed over two of the carpetbags. “These belong to the women. But that’s not all. We have more in the baggage car. I’ll help you retrieve them.”

  “Coach be sittin’ over yonder. I’ll just take these and stow ’em in the boot and come back t’ get the other things.” The driver whistled as he ambled across the street, swinging his arms as if the bags were very light, and Maggie knew hers wasn’t.

  Georgia held out her hand for Charles’s bag. “I can take this to the coach. Maggie and I will wait there.” She glanced toward the train. “They’re unloading things right now.
You can make sure they don’t miss any of ours.”

  Charles let her take the carpetbag, then walked swiftly toward the train.

  Maggie crossed the street with Georgia, and they made their way between other waiting conveyances—farm wagons, plain buggies, other coaches. The warm musky smell of horses wafted through the autumn wind. “The name Little Rock sounds like a village, but it’s not.”

  “No. It’s the state capital and the largest city in Arkansas.” Georgia handed the last bag to Tucker, who quickly stowed it under the canvas at the back of the coach, then headed across the street to join Charles.

  “The town is pretty, but what a funny name.” Maggie caught an errant curl and twisted the hair around her finger before she pushed it toward the bun it had escaped. “Why use such an unusual name? Does it have any special meaning?”

  “The town originally started from a settlement on the Arkansas River. An outcropping of white rock on the bank was used by the Indians, then early travelers, as a landmark. The French called it La Petite Roche, which means ‘the little rock,’” Georgia explained. “Maybe while you’re here, we can go down to the river so you can see the landmark.”

  “I’d like that. I want to see everything I can while we’re here.”

  Maggie realized this might be her only visit to this area, and she didn’t want to return to Seattle and regret missing something interesting. Since her life felt completely unsettled right now, she wanted good memories in case something drastic happened when she got home and talked to her parents. She dreaded that conversation, so she pushed it to the back of her mind. She didn’t want to let it spoil her day.

  Because they had been sitting for such a long time, Maggie didn’t want to climb into the coach until the men arrived with the other luggage. She walked back and forth, enjoying stretching her legs by moving at a fast clip. She tried to take in everything around them. “The train depot in Seattle is by the wharf. It’s not as pretty there as it is here by this train station. I love all the trees and fall flowers. This is almost like a park.”