11

“Mor, you’ve got to let me go.”

Sam glanced back at the train puffing smoke behind him, his shoulders tightening as time pressed. Yet still his mother clung to him.

“It’s so far. How do I know when I’ll see you again?”

Sam dug deep for patience and patted his mor’s shoulder as she wept into the front of his coat. Despite her supposed blessing on his decision, the last two weeks had been filled with fears and tears.

“It’s only a few days’ train ride now, nothing like it used to be. I’ll come home for Christmas if I can, or at least next summer.”

The train whistled again. Sam cast his father a pleading glance.

Far cleared his throat and stepped forward to touch his wife’s arm. “Nora, it’s time. Let him go.”

She stepped back at last, dabbing her handkerchief at her eyes and shaking her bonneted head. “But who will take care of you all the way out there?”

Sam bit his tongue to keep from bursting out that he could take care of himself, that he had been taking care of himself for years, however much she tried to interfere. That indeed a chance to be left alone would be welcome. Shame burned his ears for the thought.

“God will.” His voice firmer now, Far tucked Mor’s arm through his and reached to clasp Sam’s hand. “And may He be with you, son.”

“And also with you.” Sam gripped his father’s hand hard, then bent to kiss his mother’s damp cheek once more.

“All aboard!”

Sam drew a breath, grasped his satchel—his trunk was already loaded—and headed for the train car. His feet hitched briefly at the steps. He couldn’t grasp the handle to pull himself up while holding the satchel, not with only one hand. Lord, please don’t let me prove my mother’s fears true right here in front of her.

“All aboard!” The conductor bellowed again, almost in Sam’s face. With one smooth motion the man reached down, grabbed Sam’s satchel, and tossed it up the steps, then nodded for him to climb on. Face burning with gratitude, Sam hauled himself aboard. He grabbed his bag and made his way down the narrow aisle of the passenger car, ears full of the screech of metal on metal and chatter of passengers. Finding a seat by a window, he sank into it, tucked his satchel beside him, then turned for a last glance out the window.

There his parents stood, Far with his arm around Mor, his mother pressing her handkerchief to her nose. The train lurched forward, engine chuffing. Sam braced himself with his feet and lifted his right hand in a wave. His mother flapped her handkerchief, a flag of surrender. His chest tight, Sam kept his eyes on that fluttering scrap of white till the train chugged around a bend, and she was gone.

Sam leaned back in his seat, a burning in his nose. He was thankful for the empty seat across from him, lest his eyes betray the sudden threat of tears. This was the right decision—at least he’d thought it to be. But . . . would his mother survive it? He closed his eyes, the familiar pinch of guilt in his gut. Mor’s life had been wrapped up in him, in being his mother, for, well, all his life, and over half of hers. What would she do now with him simply not there?

He remembered a friend of his from the cavalry, who shared how an aunt of his simply stopped living after her son was killed in the war. Pulled away from family and friends, refused food. And died herself only a few months later. Sam shook off the morbid thought with a shudder. Mor wouldn’t do that, his father wouldn’t let her. And Sam wasn’t dead, for pity’s sake, merely moving a few states away. He could visit—and so could they.

Still, his mother’s handkerchief fluttered in his dreams that night, a relentless undercurrent to the rattling rock and sway of the train.

———

Between fighting spasms of guilt, Sam spent much of the train trip reading. Ray’s Arithmetic, The Columbian Orator, The Art of Reading. He trusted the school would have books of geography, American history, and penmanship. He’d had a good education, but sometimes the sheer scope of knowledge he’d be expected to impart to the young minds of Salton made his head spin, his breath squeezing past strictures. He closed his eyes after reading five chapters of complicated mathematics and leaned his head against the seat back. He laid the book on the seat beside him to free his hand to rub at the headache building behind his eye sockets. Or was it just from the ever-present soot and smoke in the air?

Soon he’d know whether he could actually put all this book learning, not to mention his time at teaching school, into real-life practice. Flesh-and-blood students in the classroom would be a far cry from students in theory, and no doubt infinitely more challenging—as he ought to know.

Would they find it hard to respect a teacher with a missing arm?

Sam lifted his head and glanced out the window. Dusk was falling over the landscape, the rolling hills of Ohio having given way to the farmland of Indiana and Illinois, and now the cornfields of Iowa.

“Next stop, half an hour.” The conductor stopped beside his seat. “Fine place to get off and get some supper.”

“Thank you.” Sam’s stomach rumbled at the thought. Though his mother had stuffed as many eatables in his satchel as he’d allow, the idea of a hot meal made his mouth water. “Tomorrow we’ll cross the river at Council Bluffs, is that right?”

“Sure is.” The conductor shifted a toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Load up passengers and railcars alike on them big steam ferries and tote us right across the Missouri.”

Sam shook his head in wonder. Whole train cars being ferried across the river. “I can hardly picture it.”

“’Course, this is just till they finally get that railway bridge built, once folks can agree on the location. Whole thing’s been a passel of trouble, not to mention Council Bluffs and Omaha always arguin’ over who’s the real beginning of the Union Pacific rails. But President Lincoln named Council Bluffs the terminus, so I figure so it shall be. Even if the UP tracks proper don’t yet begin till the other side.”

“What a world we live in these modern days.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” The conductor chuckled and swayed on down the aisle to the rumble and screech of the locomotive’s song.

———

The next morning, Sam leaned his head out his open window to stare in amazement as the train cars were rolled onto special tracks on the huge steam ferries, then slowly towed across the rolling water of the Missouri. He breathed deeply of the river’s tangy air, a precious change from soot and smoke, then looked ahead to the other side—Nebraska. Might this be his own Jordan River crossing, of sorts? A passage to a new land . . . a new life.

The thought of Lilac Nielsen worked its way into his mind again. Could she be part of that new life? Shaking his head, he pushed away the thought. He wasn’t about to take advantage of her family’s kindness in helping him get this job by throwing himself at their youngest daughter. Not to mention not being a whole man himself . . . No, he’d best devote himself to learning to teach and teach well. To stand on his own as a man, navigate life in this new world while missing a limb before he took any thought toward matrimony. Lilac’s dark curls, dancing eyes, and compassionate listening ear notwithstanding.

They reached the other side, then rolled back onto the tracks through Omaha before heading south toward Lincoln . . . toward Salton. Grassland and salt marsh stretched around him, the prairie so open he could scarcely spot a tree on the horizon. So different from the woods and hills of home, yet welcome. And a great open sky stretching above, blue as his mother’s favorite mixing bowl.

Perhaps here he might finally breathe freely.

Lilac breathed in the scent of fresh earth, newly turned beneath her hoe. Nothing like working in a garden—especially now that the August mornings were starting to turn cooler. Though the rising sun warmed her shoulders, a faint nip in the air heralded autumn not far away.

She knelt between the rows of purple coneflowers, gently pulling the weeds by hand lest she uproot any of the precious plants. Around her were black-eyed Susans, salvia, asters, catmint, and anemone, late summer blooms still filling Leah’s Garden with splashes of rose, violet, and gold. The spring and summer flowers were now going to seed—they’d need to start collecting and saving those soon. Between this year and what they still had left from last year, they should have enough seeds to start filling mail orders by next spring. Lilac flung the weeds onto the pile and rubbed the rich soil from her fingers with a smile as she stood. Finally, their mother’s dream of a flower seed business was nearing full bloom.

The clanking of metal came from the machine shed, where Lark and Jonah worked on the mower. Lilac stretched to ease the kinks from her back, then set to whacking at the stubborn weeds between the rows with her hoe. It seemed that as summer waned, the weeds only gained strength. After this, she needed to harvest more green beans—the bushes hung heavy with them again. In the nearby cornfield, Del walked the rows picking early corn, little Lily Belle wound snug against her mother’s chest in a fabric sling. Lilac smiled at the sight, remembering Del wearing tiny Mikael that same way on the wagon trip west, after they’d found Sofie and Mikael’s mother dying along the trail from a fever. Was that truly only three years ago?

Lilac could have been expecting a baby herself by now if she’d gone ahead with her wedding to Ethan Pritchard. She leaned the hoe into the ground and pushed a stray curl back inside her sunbonnet. She was glad she’d made the decision she did, but she still hoped God had wifehood and motherhood planned for her someday. But with whom?

“Did you want to go to town with me, Lilac?”

Lilac looked up at Jonah’s question, the midmorning sun now beating down harder. “You need a part for the mower?”

“Ja, and I’m supposed to meet Sam Gubberud at the train, remember? Anders asked if we would.”

That’s right, how had she forgotten that was today? Lilac’s brain scrambled. “I, uh, I do need to mail a new set of drawings. Maybe I should come.” Jonah could mail them, but she liked to send them off herself. And the thought of meeting Sam did hold appeal. But there was so much to do here. . . .

“I can take over the weeding.” Lark approached, seeming to read her mind. “If you want to go.”

“The flower garden’s almost finished, but I was going to pick beans next.” Lilac still hesitated, not used to feeling so indecisive. “Maybe I should stay.” There was really no need for her to go—except she wanted to. Which was precisely the problem. Why did she want so badly to meet Sam at the train? Was she imagining feelings for him? If so, all the more reason to be careful—she’d had feelings for Rev. Pritchard, and look how that turned out.

“Oh for pity’s sake, just go or you’ll miss the train.” Lark took the hoe from her. “And wash your face, Lilac, you’ve got dirt smudges on your chin.”

Glad for once to have the decision made for her, Lilac rushed into the soddy and splashed her face and hands, then removed her apron and joined her brother in the wagon, where Jonah sat tapping his foot.

“Gotta hurry if we want to be there when the train arrives.”

Lilac squeezed her hands together in her lap as Jonah clucked Prince forward. Calm down, Lilac Nielsen. You’re merely going to welcome an old school chum. And you’d better not think of him as anything else, or the possibility of anything else, which you have precisely no right to do.

And yet . . . there had been something between them at the store reopening. Surely she hadn’t imagined it. She’d never talked that long or freely to a young man, not even when she was engaged to Ethan.

Well, all she could do was wait and see.

They reached the train station right on time, but the train was late. While they waited, Lilac headed into the station to give her packet of drawings for the New York Weekly to Mr. Owens, the telegraph operator who also handled mail. She thanked him, then at the whistle of the train hurried back out onto the platform. She and Jonah both covered their mouths and noses against the billows of smoke and soot that rolled in with the engine.

A few passengers stepped off the train right away, but no Sam. Had they misunderstood the time?

“There he is.” Jonah nodded to the exit of the second passenger car, where a tall young man stepped slowly down, gripping the train car handle with his one good hand, then reached back up for his satchel once he had landed on the ground.

Jonah shook his head. “Gotta be tough, going through life with only one arm.” He spoke low, though no one else would hear over the hiss of brakes and chuffing of the locomotive’s idle engine.

“Hush,” Lilac whispered anyway, waving for Sam to see them.

He glanced about, then spied them and hurried forward, carrying his carpetbag.

“Must say you two are a sight for sore eyes.” Sam wore a weary grin. “Jonah, Miss Nielsen, thanks for coming to meet me. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course we did.” Jonah thumped his shoulder. “Welcome to Salton. Got a trunk?”

“In the baggage car. Thank you.”

Lilac followed the two young men, unusually tongue-tied. Though she’d seen Sam glance her way, he’d given her little eye contact. And what was with the “Miss Nielsen”? He’d called her Lilac before, hadn’t he?

Had she offended him somehow? She’d thought they shared a connection at the mercantile reopening, a renewed friendship at least. Perhaps she’d overblown the memory in her mind. But she was being silly—just now Sam’s focus was on his arrival to a completely new place and life, as well it should be.

“We’ll take you over to Nielsen House, the boardinghouse my sisters started.” Jonah hefted Sam’s trunk into the back of the wagon.

“Their ingenuity seems to know no bounds.” Sam cast Lilac a quick smile.

Heartened, she smiled back. “How was your trip?” At least that question came easily enough.

“Hot and sooty.” He chuckled. “Though honestly, the time passed more quickly than I expected. Incredible how fast one can travel hundreds of miles these days.”

“That’s just what I thought when I traveled back to Ohio this summer. When I think how long it took us by wagon . . .” Lilac spread her hands. “The speed of this age never ceases to amaze me.”

“Exactly. Did you know they have steamboats to ferry the train right across the Missouri River so that tracks can keep on going?” Sam shook his head and chuckled. “Forgive me, of course you do. It just still boggles my mind.”

Jonah, waiting by the wagon seat, cocked his head. “Ready?”

Lilac felt her face heat. She hadn’t meant to delay them. But at least words had started flowing between her and Sam again.

Sam glanced from the wagon to her and hesitated. Was he wondering if he should offer to help her in?

Jonah settled the matter. “Up you go, sis.” He helped Lilac into the back of the wagon by the trunk, then looked to Sam. “Do you, uh, need a hand?”

Lilac bit her lip.

“Thanks, I already have one.” Sam smiled and held up his remaining hand, then used it to grasp the wagon seat and haul himself up.

They all chuckled, the momentary tension easing. Jonah climbed up and took the reins. “Sorry, if I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t be.” Sam flexed his hand. “It’s hard for everyone to get used to at first, me included.”

Jonah clucked the team and turned toward Main Street. “I need to pick up a new part for our mowing machine, but we can drop you at the boardinghouse first.”

“No matter. I’d welcome the chance to see more of this little town I’m to call home.” Sam examined the street with interest.

Lilac followed his gaze. What would he think of their town? The wooden sidewalks that didn’t even stretch the length of the street, the rustic storefronts. Blacksmith, mercantile, bank. Mr. Caldwell’s simple law office. Compared to Salton, even Linksburg was an upscale town.

“There’s the church.” Jonah nodded. “And the schoolhouse.”

Sam craned his neck to see. “Guess that will be familiar to me soon.” He shifted on his seat. “I certainly do thank you folks for helping me get this position. Truly seemed like the Lord’s provision just now.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Jonah shrugged. “That was all Anders and Lilac.” He thumbed back toward his sister.

“And I thank you, Miss Nielsen.” Sam shot a polite smile back, then faced forward again.

Lilac sat back between his trunk and the side of the wagon bed, something deflating in her chest.

But what on earth had she expected, that Sam would ride into town and sweep her off her feet?

She’d let herself start to float after foolish dreams. Again.