Queasiness unsettled Rosemary for the remainder of the day. Every time she looked up, Otto’s eyes were fixed on her, following her around the depot. His scowl sent a shudder through her.
From the window, she caught sight of Jeremy out on the platform, talking with a man about a load of freight. He pointed and scribbled notations on his clipboard as sturdy crates of various sizes disappeared into the gaping jaws of the boxcars.
She let his words linger in her memory. “When you trust God, He will never leave you alone.” His voice had rung with assurance, as if he knew by experience what he said was true. The idea of God always being close by when she was frightened or lonely or confused appealed to her. It was that first part—the trusting part—that she couldn’t quite grasp. Did it mean she was supposed to trust God the way she trusted her father? He’d forced her into something she didn’t want to do. Wouldn’t it require a very special kind of person to trust in a God she couldn’t see? Her questions certainly weren’t leaving her alone.
The activity out on the platform stepped up with the blowing of the train’s whistle. When the final container was stowed and the door of the boxcar closed and secure, Jeremy glanced toward the depot windows and their gazes connected. A smile tipped his lips, and he lifted his fingers in acknowledgement.
They’d not had an opportunity to speak since Otto’s arrival. The regular agent settled himself in the cubicle, and she went about her tasks with his scrutiny boring a hole in the back of her head. The two men had conversed, and though she couldn’t hear their exchange, judging by Otto’s sharp glances in her direction she suspected she was the topic of debate. When Jeremy calmly retrieved the clipboard, he’d sent her a reassuring smile as he headed out the door. But even now, as she paused by the window to watch Jeremy perform his duties, she sorely wished she knew what they’d discussed.
“All aboard.” The conductor’s bellow drew her attention. Jeremy tossed the mail bag to the conductor and waved. The train engine’s growl began to build from a rumble to a roar.
The westbound 5:15 pulled out of the station, hissing steam and chugging great black clouds in its wake. As soon as the train departed and the smoke cleared, Rosemary retrieved her bucket and rags and scurried outside to remove the grime left on the windows by the steam and cinders.
“You cleaned the windows this morning.”
Rosemary glanced up to find Jeremy leaning against the door frame. She shrugged. “I know. But when I come to work in the mornin’, I like for them to shine in the sunlight.” She halted the motion of her rag against the glass. “Am I comin’ to work in the mornin’?”
Jeremy’s brow dipped slightly. “Yes, of course you are. But I’m not.”
Rosemary dropped her rag, and her hand clutched her stomach. “What? Did Otto fire you? Was he angry because you hired me?”
Amusement pulled Jeremy’s face into a cockeyed half smile. “No. Otto isn’t my boss, and your job with the Burlington and Missouri is safe.” He hesitated, and the smile faded. “My training requires that I work many different jobs. My time here as a depot agent is over, and the next job is learning to manage freight.” He appeared to study the window she’d just finished wiping. “Tomorrow I head up the line to the Grand Island station.”
A cloak of heaviness fell over her. “Will you…” She pressed her lips together. Asking about his intentions wasn’t ladylike, but the desire to throw propriety to the winds was nearly her undoing.
“Will I… what? Are you asking if I’ll be coming through Sweetwater?” A hint of teasing threaded his voice.
He’d read her thoughts again. Could he also hear her heart plummet upon hearing the news he’d no longer be working out of the Sweetwater station? Her cheeks burned, and she stooped to pick up her rag. Maybe her father was right and she needed to learn to become a lady after all. “Guess I’ve just gotten used to seein’ you every day.”
He reached and caught her fingers, pulling her gently upright. “Me, too.” After a brief squeeze, he released her hand, but his touch made an indelible imprint on her heart if not her skin.
“I’ll be based in Grand Island, but the line I’m working on will run between there and North Platte, so I’ll come through Sweetwater regularly. I hope to be here on Sundays for church.”
Her heart, slumped only moments ago, lifted. She tried to school her features but couldn’t stop the smile that grew on her face. “I’ll look forward to seein’ you.”
He cocked his head toward the depot door and winked. “You always have Otto to talk to.”
That night, Jeremy sat up in bed with his Bible on his lap, but the picture of Rosemary’s face in his mind distracted him. He flipped the pages back to the book of Psalms and reread the same verses he’d read to her that morning.
“My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defence; I shall not be moved.”
The impact on Rosemary’s heart had evidenced itself in her tear-filled eyes and the way she’d wrapped her arms around herself. Her faraway expression spoke of conflict within her spirit. If only Otto hadn’t chosen that moment to walk in, he might have been able to get her to open up and talk about what was troubling her.
He longed to share with her how the passage also spoke to him, but couldn’t do so without breaking his father’s trust. Working incognito side by side with the very people who would one day work for him pricked his conscience. They knew him as Jeremy Reide, just a common, hardworking fellow who carried a Bible. They’d think him a hypocrite when they learned the truth. He grimaced. How would Rosemary feel when she learned he’d been less than forthcoming about himself? “Lord, please show me what to do.”
God alone was his refuge. He prayed Rosemary would find the same sanctuary and solace in the Lord. He whispered, “Amen,” and God gave him an idea—to purchase a Bible for Rosemary before he left for Grand Island. “I can’t always be with her, but You can, Lord. Thank You.”
At least he’d ensured her job was safe. The funds he’d left with Otto would pay her wages for the next several weeks, if she stayed in Sweetwater that long.
Rosemary folded her father’s letter and tucked it into her apron pocket. The telegraph lines had been restored for a week, but he’d chosen instead to reply by letter. Pa had never been a man who wasted words, but his missive was short even by his standards.
Was it possible? She read it over three times just to be sure she didn’t misunderstand.
Your uncle wired me the same day you left, saying your aunt had fallen and broken her ankle. In addition, your cousin Penelope has the mumps. But your train had already left the station when I got the wire. So it seems you’ve won, at least for now. I’ve decided to allow you to stay with the Collinses for the summer. But when your aunt and cousin are recuperated, you will go to Philadelphia.
Despite a twinge of sympathy for Penelope and Aunt Florence, Rosemary couldn’t hold back her smile. At the beginning of the whole ordeal, she thought she wanted to stay at the ranch. She was attracted to Wade and thought he was attracted to her. Was it love? Would she even recognize love? She wasn’t so sure.
The swirl of confused thoughts dogged her as she went through her morning duties. At least she knew what to do with dirt-tracked floors and dusty windowsills.
The warm afternoon sun pulled sweat to her brow as she tackled a filth-encrusted bench outside at the end of the platform.
“What’s that thing?” Otto’s bark behind her yanked Rosemary’s attention from the task.
She sat back on her heels and shook dirty water from her scrub brush. “It’s an old bench.”
“I can see that. I ain’t a ninny, y’know.” Otto tramped to stand beside her and pointed to her latest project. “What’re you doin’ with it?”
She set the scrub brush aside and emptied the dirty water from her bucket into the alley beside the depot. “I’m cleanin’ it up so people can sit on it. There aren’t but two chairs in the waitin’ area, and until a couple of weeks ago they weren’t much better than kindling.” She gestured to the bench. “The blacksmith down the street, Mr. Gilstrap, said I could have this bench since he wasn’t usin’ it. It just needs a good scrubbin’.”
Otto snorted. “What for? This place was just fine the way it was.” He jerked his thumb toward the waiting room inside. “All that cleanin’ and sweepin’. I never seen so much lye soap in all my days. This here is a train depot, not a ladies’ tea room. What’s next? Flowerpots and doilies? Y’know, the sunlight glare hurts my eyes since you keep cleanin’ them windows. All that soap makes the place smell funny.”
He stomped back to the door where he stopped to fire a parting shot. “And it makes me feel all itchy.” He entered and slammed the door behind him, but not before she caught sight of his whiskers twitching.
After several days of working with Otto without Jeremy’s presence, she’d finally begun to realize the grizzled man was all bark and no bite. Even when he groused about her telling him to wipe his feet or move his chair so she could sweep, she got the distinct impression he was amused by her. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she brought him cookies and cinnamon rolls from Ada Collins’s kitchen. She carried her bucket to the pump out back to refill it with clean water. One more scrub and she could set the bench in the sun to dry.
As she worked the pump handle up and down, her thoughts drifted to Jeremy. He’d said he hoped to be in Sweetwater for Sunday, but thus far she’d only seen him once since he moved on to his new job. The westbound train on which he came in only stopped long enough to unload a few crates and drop off the mail. They barely had time to say hello, and a hollowness took up residence in her chest when the train pulled out again.
That evening she sat with Ada Collins, the two of them working together to stitch a cushion for the bench to hide some of the stains she couldn’t scrub out. Rosemary found more than friendship in Ada—the dear woman was a counselor, a confidante, and a patient answerer of questions.
“You know that scripture Pastor Collins read after supper this evening?”
Ada replied with an mm-hmm without looking up from her sewing.
Rosemary plied her needle to the cushion. “I don’t understand how those men who followed Jesus and acted like they were His best friends could suddenly turn their backs on Him. One betrayed Him to the soldiers and another denied even knowing Him. How could they do that after He’d been so good to them?”
Ada’s needle halted midstitch, and the wrinkles around her eyes deepened with her smile. “Pastor Collins will be pleased you were listening. But in answer to your question, the disciples’ behavior didn’t take Christ by surprise. He knew all along that would happen. Do you remember what He said as He hung on the cross? Forgive them. When those closest to Jesus turned away from Him, it not only demonstrated His own sinlessness, but also His ability to forgive sin.”
Rosemary chewed on Ada’s words for a moment. “I don’t think I’d respond that way if someone betrayed me.”
Before she could poke her needle into the cloth again, her own words convicted her. Hadn’t she plotted to betray her father? Perhaps not in the same way, but she’d planned to circumvent his will.
She lowered her sewing to her lap and stared into the flame of the kerosene lamp. A startling realization grew in her conscious thought. Her being stranded in Sweetwater was no accident. God had planned it all along. Encountering people like Reverend and Mrs. Collins and Jeremy had introduced her to God in a way she never recognized before. With that new revelation came an understanding of how wrong her plans were. A sudden ache in her middle made her wish she could share the epiphany with Jeremy.