Molly dozed off somewhere in the middle of the March girls’ Christmas performance of an “Operatic Tragedy.” Jane realized the child had fallen asleep only when a soft snore sounded and was then punctuated by yet another cough—this one accompanied by a significant amount of rumbling in Molly’s chest. A woman a few seats away glanced at Jane with a frown. Closing Little Women, Jane slipped it into her carpetbag, then slid over and pulled Molly closer, offering her lap as a pillow.
She glanced around the train car. Most of the passengers who hadn’t disembarked at various stops along the way had headed for the dining car with murmured comments about the roast beef or a “nice cup of tea.” When Molly coughed again, Jane wished tea were an option for them. Mrs. Abernathy had given them an early supper at the boardinghouse. If they were very careful about portioning out the cheese and crackers, they’d be only hungry and not ravenous when the train finally pulled into the station in Denver. Jane could only hope that Mr. Huggins would be amenable to a late welcome supper. In the meantime … there would be no hot tea … and no real treatment for her swollen knee either. She could, however, get a look at it in the necessary.
Tucking her carpet bag beneath Molly’s head for a makeshift pillow, Jane grasped the edge of the seat to keep her balance, then hopped the few feet to the necessary, hoping the handful of passengers still in the car wouldn’t notice the ridiculous performance. Once inside, she lifted her foot and braced it on the rim of the commode as she leaned back against the wall and pulled her skirt up to see … Oh dear. She hadn’t bled through her stockings. She’d ripped a hole large enough to expose her entire knee. Not only had it ballooned in the last couple of hours; it was also beginning to turn several shades of purple and green. Try as she would, Jane couldn’t straighten it. Probably the swelling. Looking at it seemed to make the pain worse. Trembling, she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, moistening her lips and closing her eyes. All you have to do is make it to Denver.
Somehow she managed to hobble back to her seat and retrieve her mending kit. She was trying to gather courage to move again when a porter came into the car. His mellow voice was kind as he held out a pillow and blanket “for the young lady.”
Jane shook her head. “That’s very kind, but we can’t—”
“Courtesy of the Union Pacific,” he said with a wink.
Jane could have hugged him. Instead, she snuggled the blanket around Molly.
“Name’s Henry, ma’am,” the porter said. “You need anything else, you let me know. I’m on all the way to Denver.” When Molly stirred and coughed, he glanced her way, then back at Jane. “Tea with lemon and honey? Be happy to bring some on my way through next time.”
“That’s very kind of you, but we—”She swallowed the words don’t have any money and forced a smile. “We’ll be fine.” She busied herself smoothing Molly’s blanket and blinked away desperate tears. The porter went on his way.
As the evening wore on, Jane learned that most of the people in the car had rented sleeping berths. Only one seedy-looking couple at the far end of the car had unfolded their seats to arrange makeshift sleeping quarters on the train car. Once again, Jane fought the temptation to wonder about the extent of Mr. Huggins’s devotion. Why couldn’t he have arranged for a berth? She and Molly would be on the train for two nights.
As the train swayed and the lamp the porter had turned down on his way through the car cast only the faintest glow, Jane once again made her way into the necessary. Removing her gloves, she laid them on the edge of the wash basin and lifted her skirt, fumbling beneath her bustle in a vain attempt to untie the ribbon holding her petticoat up.
The train swayed and she nearly lost her balance. She finally gave up and, taking her mending scissors, felt her way to cutting off one leg of her drawers, which she then cut into strips. Tying the strips together, she bound her injured knee as best she could, happy that the effort did seem to ease the pain a bit. It would help keep the swelling down. At least she hoped so.
Sacrificing her drawers was humiliating. But then, who would know? She supposed it was better to sacrifice drawers than a petticoat. Now that she thought about it, the drawers were definitely the way to go. An observant man might notice the absence of a petticoat. Was Mr. Huggins observant? The thought made Jane blush.
Someone knocked on the door. “You baking a cake in there? There’s other people on the train, ya know.”
Jane opened the door and apologized. It took all her willpower not to cry out in pain as she attempted to take a normal step into the aisle. The other woman didn’t notice, merely brushed past Jane and slammed the door, quite literally almost in her face. Blinking back more tears, Jane hobbled back to her seat. Grabbing the pillow the porter had left behind, she used it to cushion her knee as she settled opposite Molly on the bench vacated by passengers who’d disembarked at the last stop. Leaning her head against the frosted window, she closed her eyes and fell instantly asleep.
Jane started awake. Gray light. She glanced over at Molly, still fast asleep, only the top of her head showing from beneath the blanket supplied by the kindly porter. What time could it be? She gazed about the car. Had the others gone to breakfast? Her stomach growled at the thought. She moved gingerly, all thought on her injured knee as she lowered her feet to the floor. Was it her imagination, or did her knee hurt less? Please let it be better. Please.
She swiped at the window, wondering what stop they were at now. Snow. Bending low, she whispered at Molly’s still form, “Someone is frosting the world with white, princess. It’s snowing!”
Molly stirred. With an audible sigh, she tugged the blanket down and peered over the edge at Jane, croaking, “Snow?”
Jane nodded as she reached for the carpetbag tucked beneath their seat. “Snow and breakfast, if you’re hungry.”
Molly shook her head. Turning onto her side, she snuggled back out of sight. Jane broke off a bit of bread and had popped it into her mouth just as the porter made his appearance, bearing a steaming mug of tea.
“For the little lady,” he said, then offered it to Jane. “Or her mama, since the little lady is obviously not ready for breakfast.” He nodded toward Molly. “I was glad to note a distinct absence of coughing as I passed through in the night.”
Jane nodded, even as she declined the tea.
“Might as well drink it. You’ll be doing me a favor, actually. Someone in the next car ordered it, then changed their mind and decided to head up to the dining car. Said to just toss it out.” He looked down at the cup. Shook his head. “Never did understand how a body could add cream to a perfectly good cup of black tea.” He held it out. “Shame to let it go to waste.” When Jane finally relented, the porter nodded. “Next stop is Grand Island. They put on a good breakfast if you’re interested.”
“Thank you, but we’ve brought everything we need.”
The porter nodded again and continued on his way. Jane settled back to stare out the window at the empty landscape and the swirling snow, sighing with pleasure as the warm tea coursed down her parched throat.
Molly was still asleep when the train stopped at the place called Grand Island. Peering through the snow, Jane could see evidence of neither an island nor anything grand. When she said as much to the porter, he laughed.
“Can’t speak to the idea of ‘grand,’ but there is an island in the middle of the river. Lovely when it’s warm.” He cocked his head at the still-sleeping Molly. “That little miss is quite the little bedbug, isn’t she?”
“She was coming down with a cold when we left home. Hopefully she’s mending so she can enjoy the sights in Denver.”
The porter nodded. “I might ask you to move up to the Pullman if no one climbs aboard at the next stop. There’s no reason for the two of you to be back here all alone, and to tell the truth, it’ll lighten my load if I only have to keep one car warm. Word from up ahead is we’re headed into quite a storm. Thermometer’s dropping fast at Kearney Junction.”
Jane glanced out at the snow drifting softly to the earth.
“I know. It doesn’t look like much, but there’s nothing to stop the wind out here, and things can change fast.” The porter smiled. “Nothing to worry about. Even if we have to stop over at one of the stations and wait for the storm to blow by, the UP takes good care of its folks.” With a tip of his cap, he was on his way.
The train headed into the storm.
Molly woke not long after the snow began to fall in earnest, grimacing as she stretched her arms above her head.
“It’s about time you woke up.” Jane smiled and nodded outside. “It’s still snowing.”
Molly swiped a hand across the window to clear the steam away. “Wow.” She looked back at Jane, her cheeks red, her eyes bright with … something besides excitement.
Instinctively, Jane pressed her palm to Molly’s forehead. “Tell me how you feel.”
Molly frowned. When she opened her mouth to answer, her words were cut off by a dry, raspy cough. She grimaced. “My throat hurts. And … everything.”
“Everything?”
Molly nodded. “Everything hurts.”
And just like that, money and Mr. Huggins and the snowstorm became the least of Jane’s worries.
True to his word, the porter checked back with them after two more stops and suggested they move to the Pullman. “We’ve only two more passengers,” he explained, “and they’re getting off at Gibbon.
Shame to have that big fancy car and no one enjoying it.”
“I appreciate it,” Jane said. “Really, I do. But Molly isn’t feeling well, and I—well, I slipped on the ice at Omaha, and I’m afraid I’m about as useful as a lame horse at the moment. I’m sorry to make you walk the length of the train just because of us, but I don’t think—”
“How about I carry the young miss, and you lean on my arm?” The man didn’t wait for Jane’s reply before scooping Molly up. “She’s light as a feather. Reminds me of my little gal waiting at home.” With obvious practice, he shifted Molly to his right shoulder so that his left arm was free to assist Jane. He smiled. “I guarantee you’ll love the Pullman.”
Clutching their bags with her left hand, Jane tucked her right hand beneath the man’s arm and hung on. When they traversed the open space between the cars, she shivered. The thermometer was most definitely dropping. She glanced at the landscape, but swirling snow obscured everything.
The porter opened the door to the Pullman. Jane stared in amazement at the opulence—the brass fittings, the plush seats, the velvet drapes, the painted murals up above. Molly barely woke as the porter settled her in one of the overstuffed chairs while he made up a berth, then moved her once he had it ready. With Molly settled in, he stood back with a satisfied smile. “That’s better, don’t you think?”
“It’s wonderful,” Jane agreed. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
The porter smiled as he moved a chair close to Molly’s berth so Jane could stay close. “You just did, ma’am. If my wife and child were headed into a blizzard alone, I’d hope someone would see to their needs. ‘Do unto others’—isn’t that what the Good Book says?”
A stern male voice sounded from the front of the car, someone demanding the coffee he’d asked for “long ago.”
With a little salute, the porter headed off, leaving Jane to wonder at her good fortune, even as she worried over Molly’s red cheeks, the fringe of damp curls about her face, and the occasional whimper that sounded as she slept.