Late spring rain dripped from the edge of Rosemary’s bonnet, as if the sky were shedding the tears she wanted to release. The platform of the train depot in Laramie bustled with passengers and freight handlers while she stood under the cover of an overhang, her feet nailed in place by her great reluctance. She clutched her valise and reticule while Pa directed the porter to care for her trunks. All her arguments, pleading, and cajoling had fallen on deaf ears. Pa had cut off her every angle of debate, and here she was, moments from being carried hundreds of miles from the only home she’d ever known.
Pa returned to where she stood out of the rain and held out an envelope along with her ticket. “Here’s enough cash for any travelin’ expenses. I’ll wire money to your uncle to put into a trust for you. Do you have everything? Did you pack enough sandwiches? You never know how long it will be between stops and whether or not there will be a decent place to eat close by the train station.”
His apparent concern over making sure she had something to eat did nothing to ease her resentment. She stared at the raindrop-dotted ticket. It was now or never. “I won’t go, Pa. I refuse to get on the train. You can’t force me.” She braced for his reaction to her blatant defiance. But instead of wrath, moisture filled his eyes.
Pa dipped his head for the space of several heartbeats. His chest swelled and then released a huge sigh. “Rosemary, I’ve failed your mother. It grieves me to admit it, but I broke my promise to her. Right before she died, she begged me to make sure you were raised to be a lady.” When he raised his gaze to meet hers, tears welled in his eyes. Rosemary couldn’t ever remember seeing Pa cry. Her heart hiccupped.
Pa cleared his throat, swallowed hard, and looked past her, as if staring at the gray, rain-bloated clouds eased his words. “You weren’t but three years old. Seein’ you turn out like a lady seemed so far away at the time, so I gave your mother my promise.” He returned his gaze to her face, and his jaw muscle twitched beneath his salt-and-pepper beard. “I don’t know where the years have gone. But here you are, all grown up, with cowboys comin’ ‘round like flies to buttermilk, and it’s about time I keep my promise the only way I know how.”
His Adam’s apple jiggled again. “I know you don’t want to go. But a father’s gotta do what he thinks is best for his little girl.” He blinked and narrowed his eyes. “So you’re gettin’ on that train if I have to pick you up and carry you.”
She’d heard that tone before—right before he promised her a trip to the woodshed when she was eight. Pa wasn’t in the habit of saying things he didn’t mean. Besides, how was she supposed to stand up to him now? He’d never told her that story before, about his making that promise to her mother. Resignation drooped her shoulders.
“All aboard!” The conductor’s bellow prompted the few people exchanging lingering good-byes to cut them short.
Rosemary took the envelope and tucked it into her reticule along with her ticket. Unwilling to even look at Pa, she kept her eyes downcast and tightened her grip on her valise. Pa cupped her elbow as she made her way to the mounting step. Once she ascended to the train car entrance, she paused. “Good-bye, Pa.” She stiffened her spine and stepped into the railcar without looking back.
She chose a seat on the opposite side of the train so she wouldn’t have to see Pa standing on the platform. Steam belched from the locomotive four cars ahead, and the train lurched. The depot and the town of Laramie began slowly rolling past the grit-darkened window, slipping beyond her reach. For a panic-filled moment, she considered running to the door and flinging herself off the train, but her next heartbeat brought sense and reason. No, she couldn’t do such a foolhardy thing.
In the distance, a man sat aboard his horse on a hilltop, slicker hanging over the saddle and hat pulled low. Rosemary squinted through the raindrops. Was the man wearing a blue bandana? The blue bandana was how she always picked Wade out from the others, even at a distance. While the rest of the ranch hands used faded red bandanas, or even scraps of muslin, Wade’s blue neckerchief—the same color as his eyes—caused her breath to hitch.
The foggy mist hung in wraithlike wisps around the hillside, preventing a clear look at the lone cowboy and whether or not he sported a blue bandana. But Rosemary wanted to believe it was Wade. As the train picked up speed, the man and his horse disappeared from sight, along with everything else comfortable and familiar.
Mountains shrank as the train chugged southeast, farther into the prairie. Every bone-jarring joggle took her where she didn’t want to go. Her eyes burned with gathering tears, but she blinked them into obedience.
The conductor came through and checked her ticket. “Miss Denton? My name is Henry. Your pa said I was to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t get yourself into no trouble. If there’s anything you need, you just ask.” He tugged on the brim of his cap and moved on to the next passenger.
Her pa said? How much had Pa paid the man to act as her overseer? She gritted her teeth. Did he think she was a child? And how unfair of Pa to resort to tears and a heart-tugging story about her mother—a story he’d never mentioned before in sixteen years—in order to get the upper hand. An arrow of guilt skewered through her. All right, maybe the story was true, but why wait until now to tell her? Anger smoldered within her breast, but she squashed it. She’d need a clear, level head to come up with a plan.
She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes to the landscape sliding past her window. Was this how a rabbit felt when it got caught in a snare?
“Can I get you a blanket, Miss Denton?”
Rosemary opened her eyes to find Henry peering down at her. Her lips quivered with the retort she wanted to fire back, but she swallowed the words. “No, thank you.”
“Anything you need, miss, you just call on ol’ Henry.” He patted her shoulder.
Indeed. What she needed was for this train to turn around and take her home. Could he do that? Perhaps if she feigned sleep, her keeper would leave her alone.
She had to think.
Henry’s solicitous attention only confirmed what she already knew: Pa didn’t believe she was grown up enough to make her own decisions or take care of herself. She simply had to prove him wrong.
Rosemary opened her eyes and groaned when she tried to stretch. Travel-weary, the rocking motion of the train had lulled her to sleep, but her cramped position left her muscles stiff.
“Swwweeeetwater, Nebraska.” Henry’s singsong voice echoed through the car. “Thirty minute stop here, folks. The train will blow the whistle five minutes before we get underway again. There’s a café across the way, mercantile and emporium both just down the street. Post office around the corner. Sweetwater, Nebraska. Thirty minute stop.” He kept up his spiel from one car into the next.
After two days of occupying an uncomfortable train seat, Rosemary didn’t care for a café, mercantile, or post office. What she truly wanted was a place to freshen herself and don clean garments. She felt as grimy as the cinder-coated windows. She smoothed her dress and tidied her hair the best she could.
The forward motion of the train slowed, and the brakes began to squeal as the town of Sweetwater came into sight. She curbed her impatience to disembark until the train lurched to a full stop. Ducking her head to peek out the window afforded her a better view of the depot. Half the size of the Laramie station, the limestone building reflected the morning sun, giving it a nearly alabaster appearance. She squinted against the glare.
The passengers elbowed past Rosemary as they scrambled for the exits. She stuffed her reticule into the bottom of her valise, and then plopped the bag on her seat to indicate it was occupied before scurrying after the others.
Her legs wobbled when she set foot on the unmoving ground, and Henry reached out to steady her. “Careful there, missy.” And he patted her shoulder again. She refrained from rolling her eyes.
While most of the passengers headed across the street to the café or the mercantile, Rosemary just wished for solitude. She’d decided the worst part of traveling was the lack of privacy. The billowing prairie grass and sprinkling of colorful wildflowers behind the depot beckoned. The wind teased tendrils of her hair from their pins, and the sun on her face lifted her spirits. The fragrance of the grass reminded her of the grazing range back home, and the ache in her chest grew.
As she walked, the fresh air blew the cobwebs from her mind. She bent and picked a few daisies and buttercups, twirling them between her fingers. She needed to think. She needed a plan.
“There’s bound to be some kind of social event once I arrive in Philadelphia. I’ll ask Uncle Quentin for some money for a new dress and whatever else my cousins think I need. Aunt Florence will get him to agree. But instead of buyin’ a dress, I’ll use the money to purchase a ticket home.”
The plan might be deceitful, but she brushed aside pangs of conscience as she climbed up a gentle slope. She’d do whatever it took to go home. Wade had said he loved her when he coaxed her for a kiss. Was it love she felt for him in return, or was she simply caught up in the flattery? How was she to know how love felt? She’d never been in love before. But if her plan worked, she’d be back home soon, and love could have a chance to grow.
Stopping at the top of the rise, she closed her eyes and let the wind blow her hair, not caring if her tresses became tangled. There was nobody here to impress.
Pink wild roses in the distance caught her eye, and she hiked toward them through the rippling green waves of prairie vegetation. She plucked the blushing blooms and lifted them to her nose. Their sweet fragrance pulled her lips into a smile before she nestled them into her bouquet. Long strands of grass bound the stems together.
A train whistle sounded from afar off. Another train coming through the valley approaching the Sweetwater station?
She glanced back in the direction she’d come and nearly dropped her flowers. The prairie grass all but swallowed the town of Sweetwater, and the depot looked so tiny it could have been a toy. How could she have walked so far? Had thirty minutes passed already?
Rosemary began running, but the long grasses and thorny vines snaked out and snagged her skirt and entangled her ankles. She stumbled and fell. The thorns bit into her flesh, and she winced but frantically tried to free herself from the entrapping vine. Her efforts were mocked by the distinctive sound of ripping fabric.
“Nooo.” Her heart pounded double time as she glanced up toward the train from her seat on the sun-warmed ground. It still sat in front of the depot, but was building up steam. Surely Henry would notice she wasn’t on board and make the train wait until she got there. With resolute tugging, she finally freed her skirt. She pushed away from the ground and scrambled to her feet, her hem hoisted to her knees. And she ran. The long grass slapped at her, as if laughing at her impaired progress.
Black smoke billowed from the locomotive. A few hundred yards still stretched between her and the depot when the train began to roll forward. Its shrieking whistle drowned out her shout.
“Wait! I’m coming! Wait for me!”