Omaha, Nebraska, 1875
It took every ounce of Jane McClure’s waning faith to put her last two coins into the horse-drawn trolley driver’s hand. Normally she and ten-year-old Molly would have walked to the train station this evening. But Molly had developed a slight cough as the temperature plummeted, and Jane was determined that she not “come down with anything.” Mr. Huggins was kind but a bit remote when it came to Molly, and nothing must stand in the way of their enjoying a pleasant holiday together—as if they were a family. He’d enclosed two tickets in his recent letter—a letter that sounded… hopeful. He’d even mentioned how much Molly would enjoy seeing the Christmas decorations in Denver’s department store windows. For Mr. Huggins to be thinking of how to please Molly was a good sign. And so Jane was spending the last of her money for a ride to the train station. Out of the cold. For Molly’s sake.
The driver waved them on board the empty car with a teasing comment about the chilly fog descending over the city. “Just look at it, won’t you?” He waved around them. “The perfect atmosphere for magic!” He winked at Molly. “Tell the truth now, miss. You’re a princess and this old car is soon to become a golden coach.” He called out to the gray horse. “Hear that, yer majesty? It’s a golden harness for ye, and a velvet cape for myself!” The horse shook its head and whickered, as if answering the old man in the battered top hat.
Molly giggled and led the way on board, sliding into a seat near the driver. Jane plopped their two carpetbags on an empty seat and sat down, tugging Molly’s knit cap down over her ears.
“All right, ladies,” the driver called out, “next stop, Omaha City’s train station—with stops along the way for other fares, of course.” With a tip of his hat and a curious smacking sound to the horse, he took up the reins, and they were off.
When Molly put a mittened hand to her mouth to suppress a cough, Jane scolded herself, even as she concentrated on the familiar scenery passing by the plodding car. I should have put the last of that wood in the stove this afternoon. Why couldn’t she seem to conquer her fear at the prospect of using up the last of things? It had wound itself into the fabric of her every day in recent weeks. Three bits of wood in the woodbox meant they wouldn’t freeze. Even one coin in her threadbare change purse meant they weren’t destitute. And as long as there was a bit of cheese and a package of biscuits in the cupboard, hunger couldn’t win.
But the cupboard’s bare now. That’s the last of the cheese and biscuits in your bag. Of course using the last of the food made sense today. They wouldn’t be back for at least a week, and food must not go to waste. But wood for the stove was different. She’d be able to build a fire when they got back. On the other hand … if things went perfectly, perhaps they wouldn’t have to come back. Should Mr. Huggins’s hopeful tone bear fruit, perhaps they’d be wiring Mrs. Abernathy to pack up the few things in their rooms and ship them to Denver.
Molly coughed again and snuggled close. Jane hugged her bony shoulders. “Quite the adventure we’re having, isn’t it? Money for a ride to the station and passage to Denver.” She forced anticipation into her voice. “Mrs. Abernathy says Denver is ‘big and bustling.’ And Mr. Huggins said he’s looking forward to showing you the Christmas displays in the department store windows.”
Molly sniffed. “Wicked,” she said, and shrugged a bit of distance between herself and her mother.
“I beg your pardon?”
Molly repeated the word. “Mrs. Abernathy said that Denver is big and bustling … and wicked.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know why we have to go.”
The ever-present knot in Jane’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t realized just how worried she’d been of late, until Howard Huggins sent those train tickets, and she nearly cried with relief. “Well …” She paused. “It would be rude not to accept such a generous gift. And won’t it be nice to see someplace new? Someplace … exciting?”
“I suppose so.” Molly sat back, then murmured, “I wish Sarah hadn’t moved away. She said she’d write.” She peered up at Jane. “What if her letter comes and we’re gone?”
“Mrs. Abernathy will save it, and it’ll be waiting when we get back. Probably tucked under the door.” If we come back.
With a “Whoa” and a tug on the reins, the driver pulled the team up alongside the walkway leading to the train station entrance. Grabbing hers and Molly’s bags, Jane thanked the driver and headed down the steps with Molly close behind. She’d just let go of the bar by the step when she realized that the evening mist was beginning to freeze. One foot found purchase. The other did not. Grabbing for something—anything—to keep from falling,
Jane turned back toward the horse car, but she was too far away. As she fell, she shouted a warning at Molly. Molly took care, but Jane lost the battle to stay upright.
For a moment, everything faded away. When things began to unscramble, Jane realized she was sitting in a most unladylike position, legs sprawled, bonnet askew. Molly crouched next to her, frightened tears shining in her blue eyes. Blinking, Jane concentrated on Molly’s terrified “Mama! Mama!”
“It’s all right … I–I’m … all right.” Jane reached up to straighten her bonnet, grateful to see that Molly was holding on to both their bags. It wouldn’t do to lose the only decent things they owned to some thief taking advantage of the ice and the evening shadows.
“Here now, miss.”
A hand cupped her elbow, and the aroma of stale tobacco smoke wafted down as the driver tried to help her up. Kind eyes shone from beneath his bushy white eyebrows as he asked, “You all right?”
“I—I think so,” she said. But when she tried to stand, she wasn’t sure what hurt more, her right knee … her left ankle … or the elbow the driver held while helping her back to her feet.
“I told one of the porters they needed to spread sand out here. I could feel the temperature dropping long before it did. My knees always give warning, and they’ve been killing me all day. But did anyone listen? And now … now they’ve caused a lovely lady to be injured.”
“Really … I’m all right.” Was she bleeding through her last pair of good stockings? Had she torn anything? She wasn’t bent on deceiving anyone, but she saw no need to let Mr. Huggins see destitution when she and Molly stepped off the train. Thank goodness she’d packed a mending kit. Mr. Huggins had to know she wasn’t well off. He’d insisted on seeing her back to the boardinghouse one evening during his brief visit to Omaha a few weeks ago. It was obvious from her lodging that Jane had suffered a setback. Still, Mr. Huggins had continued to write. And as the weeks wore on and their situation grew more and more desperate … well. This trip simply had to work out.
Her heart pounding, Jane suppressed a groan as pain shot up both legs. She forced a bright smile. “Thank you for being so kind. Please don’t let me make you late for your next fare. We’ll be fine.” She reached for the larger of the two bags and forced another smile for Molly’s sake. Please, God, You know I don’t have the fare to pay for a ride back to the boardinghouse. We have to get on that train.
The driver looked doubtfully toward the station, then back at the trolley, where three people had now taken seats.
“I’ll be fine,” Jane repeated as she reached for Molly’s hand. “We’ll take our time.”
“See that you do,” the old man said, sliding the sole of one boot across the pavement. “It’s slick enough to go coasting without the sled.” With a nod and a tip of his hat, he climbed aboard.
Jane let go of Molly’s hand long enough to straighten her bruised elbow. “Did I tear my sleeve?” she asked, grateful when Molly inspected it, then shook her head. She shifted her weight to her right leg and tested her left ankle. The ankle seemed all right. The knee was another matter. In fact, it nearly gave way. With a quick little gasp, she put her hand on Molly’s shoulder to steady herself. The look of panic on the child’s face strengthened her resolve.
“A twisted knee is not going to keep us from our adventure.” Jane took a deep breath, noticing for the first time the pools of light dotting the slick surface as night fell and the new city gaslights lit up. “We have to take small steps on the ice anyway. Just go slow. I’m sure I’ll feel better once I’ve loosened it up a little. It’ll be warmer inside. That will help, too.” Leading with her left foot, she clenched her teeth and limped her way toward the station.
Once inside, she was afraid to pause. They had to get on that train. She could ice her knee and wrap it and do whatever else might be required once they rolled out of the station, but she could not let a little thing like a silly fall keep her from the promise represented by Mr. Howard Huggins. If this trip worked out, it could mean an end to Jane’s constant worries. They’d have enough. Enough food. Enough fuel. No more days struggling to keep Molly from realizing her mother had skipped a meal to feed her. No more excuses about being tired and needing to turn in early, when the real reason for heading for bed was a lack of fuel and a need to get warm.
Mr. Huggins might be a bit shorter than Jane and a bit portly and a bit—well—quite bald, but he was forward-thinking enough to believe in education for women. In fact, he’d said there was a very good boarding school they could visit with Molly in mind “if things worked out.” And Jane was determined to see that “things worked out.” Mr. Huggins might not be a knight in shining armor, but he seemed kind, and a woman could learn to love. Friendship was more important than passion anyway.
Pushing against the pain, Jane led the way through the station and to the track, pausing just long enough to look up at the board indicating that the train to Denver was on—of course—the far track. She peered in that direction. Less than a city block. Surely she could walk that far.
“We shouldn’t go,” Molly said. “You’re hurt, and Mr. Huggins doesn’t even like me.” Her voice wavered. She tugged at her scarf, then used it to cover her mouth while she coughed.
“Mr. Huggins,” Jane said with more certainty than she felt, “is actually rather fond of you. It’s just that he hasn’t been around ten-year-old girls. He doesn’t quite know how to— Well, he’s a bit shy.”
Molly tipped her head and met Jane’s gaze with a doubtful eye.
“You aren’t the only one in the world who’s shy, Molly. Even grown-ups can be shy.”
“I’m not shy,” Molly protested. “I’m just … quiet around people I don’t know.”
“Well, then. You should be even more excited about this trip, because once you’ve had the opportunity to get to know him, I’m quite certain you’ll discover that Mr. Huggins has many admirable traits. And he will discover that you“—Jane tapped the tip of the freckled nose—“are wondermous.” When Molly giggled, Jane smiled and nodded at the far track. “Let’s make our way to the train before you turn into a frozen wondermous.” She clenched her teeth and willed herself to walk.
Somehow they made it onto the train, although Jane couldn’t help letting out a grunt or two with the effort of climbing aboard. To make it up the last step, she placed her carpetbag at the top of the stairs, grasped the railing with both hands, and hopped up so she could land on her good—or at least her less injured—leg. She managed to make a joke that put a smile on Molly’s troubled face and then hobbled to the first seat they came to in the emigrant car, where they’d be until night after next.
Mr. Huggins might want them to come, but he hadn’t seen his way to providing berths in the sleeping car. That had been a disappointment, but Jane reminded herself that thrift was an admirable quality. After all, if Stephen had been a bit thriftier, his widow and child might not have found themselves pinching pennies until they— Stop resenting poor Stephen, God rest his soul. He thought that investment was a good idea.
As passengers filtered onto the car and settled in for the long ride ahead, Jane entertained Molly by whispering stories. The tall man with the ridiculous mustache was a prince in disguise. The portly middle-aged woman had once trained elephants in the circus. As for the gentleman across the aisle who had tipped his hat and made Jane blush—well. Jane didn’t know what to say about him, until Molly nudged her and offered the opinion that he seemed much friendlier than Mr. Huggins. By then Jane’s throbbing knee was challenging her forced good cheer.
“You are simply going to have to trust me in the matter of Mr. Huggins. I’ve said all I’m going to say on that subject.” As the train whistle blew, announcing their departure, she reached into her bag and withdrew the book she’d been saving for the long trip. “Would you like me to read to you?”
Molly shrugged. “I guess.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s better.” Jane traced the gilt oval on the dark cover. “I’ve been saving this until you were old enough to enjoy it.”
Molly gazed down at the book. “Where’s it been?”
Jane smiled. “At the very bottom of the little trunk I keep under my bed.” She paused. “I was seventeen when this book was new.” She cleared her throat. “Your grandmother and I took turns reading it to one another through a very long winter when the snow piled up against the windows and we huddled next to the stove trying to keep warm.” The memory of that horrible, hungry, snowbound winter still made her shiver.
The train picked up speed, and finally they were leaving the bluffs along the river and heading out onto the Nebraska prairie. The flickering light in the train car and the rhythmic rocking helped Jane ignore her throbbing knee. She’d check it later when Molly was asleep.
Opening the book, she began to read. “‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents, grumbled Jo….’”