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Culpeper Virginia, May 1870
Everything was in place. Hertha would get on a train in one week, and from there she’d get to the edge of Utah in a town called Aneth. She smiled. That’s where she’d meet Raswell. They’d marry, then move on to Hurricane.
There was just one problem with all of that. She hadn’t told her parents yet. Oh, they would be cross with her. But they couldn’t stop her. She was determined to go somewhere, to be something, and not just the spoiled preacher’s daughter.
“What? Hertha, darling, you can’t be serious.” The young woman cringed away from her mother’s shrill voice. “Gordon, tell her she can’t do this.”
Hertha turned to her father. His head was bowed, revealing a gleaming bald spot on his crown. The preacher mumbled something, likely a prayer, then stood, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. He smiled.
“I don’t believe I can do that, Gladys.” Before his wife could interrupt he said, “God is in this choice, love. How can you argue?”
The surprise on Gladys’s face was matched by her daughter. Hertha had thought her father would be opposed to his daughter traveling alone. He’d always been overprotective of his only child. What had changed?
With a sigh, the preacher said, “I’ve tried to keep you close, but . . . I’m an old man. Your mother and I won’t always be here. You deserve to have an adventure, to fall in love. I trust your judgment about this Raswell Walden.”
Hertha wrapped her father in a smothering tight hug. He was stunned for a moment. Their family didn’t display affection often. She was relieved to feel his arms around her, as well.
“I love you, Papa.” When she pulled away, her mother was glaring at both of them, her anger highly apparent. “I love you, too, Mama.”
The preacher’s wife sighed, then kissed her daughter’s cheek. She gave a half-hearted smile.
“I suppose if you feel God is in this, then there’s nothing I can say.”
Anastacia, Mrs. Sheeley prim, and proper daughter, began an attempt to teach Hertha how a proper lady ought to behave when traveling.
“Now, the fact that you’re traveling alone makes it all the more important that you remember the other details of ladylike behavior.” Hertha nodded mindlessly as she laid one of her dresses in her valise.
After half an hour of packing to the sound of “ladylike behavior”, Hertha decided she needed some time alone. She smiled at Anastacia.
“Anastacia, would you mind giving me a few moments to myself?” Though the other woman looked slightly offended, Hertha was tired and honestly couldn’t bring herself to apologize.
“Of course. You have a long day, after all.” With that, Anastacia left, taking her ladylike self to her own quarters.
Hertha knelt beside her bed, leaning her forehead against it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, not sure just what she should pray about.
“Heavenly Father, I don’t know if I should pray for the well-being of Raswell, or ask for traveling mercies, but you know I’m anxious. I feel your will in this, but I’m still worried. I’ve never traveled, especially not by myself.” When her voice broke, she took another deep breath. “Grant me courage and patience, Lord. Help me to have faith in your good plans.”
When the day came for her departure, Hertha couldn’t calm her racing heart. She clutched her valise tightly with both hands, her knuckles white. A cool wind blew through, making her glad for the shawl about her shoulders. Her mother had given it to her.
Hertha sighed, wishing her parents had chosen to see her off. But the train left early before the sun had fully risen. So she stood alone, listening for the chug of fate.
When the train finally arrived, one quiet, unobtrusive young woman stepped into the car, finding a seat in the middle. She hunkered down, pulling her shawl more tightly about herself. And the adventure began.
Hertha had come to hate sleeping on trains. Every night, it took hours to fall asleep, and every morning she woke with an ache in her spine and stiffness in her neck. It wasn’t all bad, though. At night, the conductor lit a few candles in the car, and she’d move to sit nearby, opening one of her books and reading herself to sleep.
One day, as the sun was rising, Hertha’s eyes opened slowly, still full of sleep, to find a little boy staring right in her face. She let out an involuntary yelp, jerking away, only to find that he sat on her lap.
“Good mornin’, lady,” the child said. He couldn’t have been more than six. “How did you sleep?”
Several moments of intense staring from the boy went by before she managed to reply, “I slept well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, lady.” The boy frowned, hopping off her lap. “Where’s your man?”
“In Utah Territory. I’m going there to meet him.” The boy’s eyes widened.
“Isn’t it dangerous that far west?” Hertha smiled, deciding she liked the boy.
“I suppose that it can be. But that’s what makes an adventure, isn’t it? Danger, excitement. Awfully fun at times.” The boy nodded, sitting beside her.
“One time, I stopped a big, mean, stinky coyote from eating my chickens. I think that was an adventure.”
“Of course. I’m sure a very ad -”
“Michael!” The boy groaned as a woman stormed down the aisle. She snatched the boy’s hand when she reached him. “What would your father say if he knew you’d run off?”
“He’d say I’m a real clever hider, I think.” The mother sighed.
“Thank you, Miss. Not many folks like to sit and talk with little ones.” Hertha assured the young mother that her son hadn’t been a problem.
“He’s wonderful company. You’re lucky to have him.” The lady smiled fondly at the boy.
“Yes, I suppose I am.”
Then Hertha was alone, once again, with nothing but the wanderings of her mind and her own anxious prayers.
