The North Platte Hotel wasn’t exactly the Palmer House in Chicago, but it was nicer than the boardinghouse where Jeremy had been staying in Grand Island. After a very long day and a mediocre supper, he’d begged a couple of pieces of paper and pot of ink from the desk clerk. Bone weary, his body longed for sleep. But before he’d give in to the temptation to collapse on the lumpy mattress, he wanted to write to Rosemary.
Dear Rosemary,
I was glad to finally see you last Tuesday. The other freight man didn’t mind me taking his place on the Sweetwater run at all. But I do regret not being able to escort you to church last Sunday. Thank you for understanding and forgiving me for not being able to contact you.
Disappointed. That was the word she’d used. Some might say he should feel flattered that she’d been disappointed by his absence. But instead, grief skewered him to think he’d failed her—albeit unintentionally. He knew in that moment he never wanted to let her down again.
The future dangled before him. Their paths were destined to go separate directions in another month. An emotion deeper than disappointment made his chest ache. He heaved a sigh and returned pen to paper.
You surprised me, in a good way, with your new faith. I had a hard time stopping joyous tears when you shared with me the way God has been speaking to you. Selfishly, I wish I’d been the one to witness that moment when you understood and accepted God’s love and forgiveness, but I’m thankful Reverend and Mrs. Collins prayed with you. Likewise, I’m grateful for being used of God to plant the seeds of faith. What an exquisite joy! I look forward to spending time with you over God’s Word, hopefully next Sunday if outlaws and thugs don’t do any more damage to the rails.
Jeremy paused with the nib of his pen poised over the inkwell. Even now, days later, a smile spread across his face when he recalled Rosemary’s eyes lighting up when she told him of her search through her new Bible. He prayed she wouldn’t lose the hunger for God’s Word.
It appears my time learning freight management in Grand Island is growing short. By the first of August, I will move on to the next step in my training, which I believe will be learning the mechanics of the locomotives, including fuel and steam production. At this time, I am uncertain to which routes I will be assigned. I will request the Sweetwater route, although I’ve been told the Omaha to Chicago route will provide the most experience.
When Rosemary had asked why he moved from one job to another, he’d merely told her he was going through a training program to become a well-rounded employee with knowledge in multiple areas of the railroad industry. She’d given him a quizzical look but appeared to accept what he’d told her. It wasn’t a lie. The description of his father’s plan was basically the explanation he’d given Rosemary. He’d just left out a few important details.
His gaze landed on the latest missive from his father lying on the desk to his right. Learning his father had made an unexpected visit to the Sweetwater depot caused momentary misgiving, but the elder Forbes had only commended him on hiring “the cleaning woman,” and went on to reiterate the importance of Jeremy’s anonymity.
Jeremy leaned back in his chair and sighed. His father put great importance on putting oneself in a position to lead the corporation into the next decade through sharp business astuteness, ambition, and cunning efficiency. How he wished his father valued integrity as highly as he revered ambition.
He couldn’t see how telling Rosemary the truth about who he was would hinder the agenda’s purpose, but he was honor bound to obey his father’s mandate.
Honor. Wasn’t it a contradiction to honor his father by being deceitful about his identity?
He returned his focus to the incomplete letter to Rosemary. One day he’d be able to tell her he was Jeremy Reide Forbes, son of John Murray Forbes, the president of the Burlington and Missouri Railroad. For now, all he could do was pray she wouldn’t hate him when she learned the truth.
I look forward to seeing you again soon.
Should he tell her how special she was to him? Or would that imply something he couldn’t promise? He dipped his pen tip into the inkwell, hesitating. Then he added Affectionately, Jeremy.
Night had fallen and he had to be up before dawn. He sealed and addressed the envelope, setting it beside his Bible where he wouldn’t forget it in the morning.
Rosemary sat in the Collins’s kitchen and read over the first page of the latest letter she’d written to her father. Hopefully he’d be pleased to hear how she was working hard, learning to stand on her own two feet and be responsible for herself. He’d always seemed to think it important for his sons to be independent and industrious. Surely he’d be proud to know his only daughter possessed the same work ethic.
Would he be able to discern the delight she took in her job? She described Otto and how the grumpy depot agent was really soft hearted underneath the gruffness. The story of the group of greenhorn cowboys trying to load a cantankerous prize bull into one of the boxcars ought to make him chuckle. She told him about the little girl with her grandparents and how she’d made a rag doll like the ones Pa used to make out of his handkerchiefs. Would he smile to know she remembered him doing that when she was a little girl?
But nothing she’d written thus far reflected his reason for sending her away in the first place. She tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “He said he wanted me to become a lady.”
Ada stood at the stove removing two loaves of fresh bread. “What was that, dear?”
Rosemary pulled her attention away from the paper in front of her, not realizing she’d spoken aloud. “Nothing. Just wondering what else to write to my father.”
The aroma of the bread teased Rosemary’s senses as Ada wiped her hands on her apron. “Honey, I know you told me you disagreed with your father for sending you east.” She sat down and covered Rosemary’s hand with hers.
The warmth of Ada’s fingers lent comfort and acceptance, giving her the encouragement she needed to speak freely. “I still do, but my reasons for disagreein’ with him are changin’. I wanted to be independent, make my own choices, control my own life. And I resented Pa for takin’ that away from me. But then God brought me here, and you and Reverend Collins and Jeremy showed me how I could know Him.” Moisture burned behind her eyes, and she curled her fingers around Ada’s. “I found real freedom when I surrendered my selfish wants and let God have control of my life.” She tightened her grip.
Ada returned the squeeze. “I’m so very glad you’ve found that peace and contentment in the Lord. He promises to never leave you, no matter what you face along the way. Your difficulties and struggles may not change, but at least you won’t have to struggle alone.”
Rosemary swallowed the lump in her throat. “I know that now. I believe God stranded me in Sweetwater for the purpose of comin’ to know Him. I just wish I knew what else God has in mind for me.”
“Are you talking about Jeremy?” A tiny smile tipped the corners of Ada’s mouth.
Rosemary wasn’t surprised that Ada suspected she had growing feelings for Jeremy, but heat crept into her face anyway, and she nodded.
Ada patted her hand. “Well, give it time and see what God has in store. As for what to write to your Pa—I expect he just wants to know you love him.”
Ada rose and returned to the stove, humming as she went. Rosemary followed her with her eyes. Everything Ada did, she did with love and grace. A candle of understanding flared to life. Pa had sent her east so she’d become a lady. God brought her to the very place and the right person to do just that. Because being a lady wasn’t about attending fancy balls or dining at a formal table. It wasn’t going to tea parties or wearing the latest fashion or having her name listed on a social register. Being a true lady—the kind of lady she wanted to believe her mother was—meant demonstrating compassion and gentleness, generosity and kindness. Love and inner joy defined a lady who sought to minister to another whose heart was confused and fearful, because a true lady was a woman of God. Ada Collins was a lady, and Rosemary wanted to be like her.
She knew now what to write to Pa.
Pa, I hope you can meet Reverend and Mrs. Collins someday. I know you would like them. With their help, I’ve discovered the kind of faith that can carry me through hardship and uncertain times. Ada Collins has taught me so much just by watching her. I’ve never met anyone with such a heart of grace. God has used her to demonstrate what a real lady is. She’s been the example to me that I believe Mama would have been, and for that, I will always be grateful for becoming stranded here in Sweetwater and meeting these wonderful folks.
When she’d started the letter, she planned to beg her father to allow her to return to the ranch at the end of summer instead of making her go on to Philadelphia. But now she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back. Yes, she missed the ranch and her family, but the draw to go home was no longer as strong as it had been over two months ago. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. Going back to the ranch meant leaving Jeremy, and the very thought grieved her. Not seeing him for days at a time left a void in her life. She didn’t think she could bear never seeing him again.
She signed the letter and tucked it away to mail in the morning. Ada was busy making yeast dough for cinnamon rolls, and Rosemary joined her. If the day was soon approaching when she’d have to tell Ada and her husband good-bye, she wanted to take advantage of every moment with them.
Thick gray clouds blotted out the rising sun as Rosemary detoured by the post office on her way to the depot. As she’d lain in bed last night, she’d struggled to know how to pray, and she’d wrestled most of the night wondering about the direction of her future. The depth of her feelings toward Jeremy startled her. When had her heart grown so in tune with him that being without him left her desolate? The murky dawn didn’t bring with it any answers other than to just keep asking God to guide her, and that is exactly what she suspected Jeremy would advise her to do. Maybe he’d be working on one of the trains coming through today.
She entered the post office and purchased a stamp for Pa’s letter. She handed the letter across the counter and turned to leave.
“Oh, Miss Denton, you have a letter.” The postmaster pulled an envelope from one of the cubbyholes behind the counter. “Here you are.” He slid the missive to her. The envelope bore Jeremy’s handwriting, and her heart soared.
Otto might be grouchier than usual if she was late, but she couldn’t wait to read Jeremy’s letter. She tore open the envelope and hungrily took in every line, the enduring sound of Jeremy’s voice whispering in her heart as she read.