They sat at the table in the railcar, which Josephine had moved in front of the sofa, creating a fourth seat for Nelly. Josephine sat at the table to Nelly’s left, with Frieda across the table, on Nelly’s right. They had her surrounded.
“When the general is here, remember to say please and thank you, and chew with your mouth closed,” Frieda said.
“I always do. Miss Mandy hates hearing people chew.”
“Good for her,” Frieda said. She took the napkin and handed it to Nelly—who proceeded to tuck it into her collar.
“On the lap will be sufficient.” Then Frieda turned to Josephine. “Anything you’d like to add?”
A thousand things. And nothing. What could she tell Nelly when Josephine herself didn’t even know how to act when her father came in?
Footsteps and men’s voices. He was home.
But when Josephine looked toward the door, she was surprised to see Papa was not alone.
“Look who I brought home for lunch,” Papa said, removing his hat.
“Hello, lad—”
When Lewis’s eyes fell upon Nelly, he faltered, and that break in “ladies” caused Papa to look too.
“Hello,” Nelly said.
“Hello, indeed.” Lewis looked at Josephine. “Who’s she?”
Papa answered for her. “Let me guess. Nelly, is it?”
She nodded. Then she lowered her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest—or tried to, as the table was in the way.
“Sit up straight,” Frieda whispered.
Reluctantly, Nelly sat up properly. But she still didn’t look up.
Papa’s head made a deliberate turn toward Josephine. “So much for patience.”
Josephine would have explained the entire thing if it weren’t for Lewis’s presence. “The time seemed right.”
“For you,” he said. “Seemed right for you.” He walked past the table. “I need to wash up.”
Lewis set his hat on the rack near the door, then took a chair at the table. Papa returned from the washroom. Unfortunately, the only remaining seat was beside Nelly on the sofa.
Too late, Josephine thought of offering her own chair.
“May I sit beside you?” Papa asked the girl.
Nelly scooted over. Way over.
“Thank you,” Papa said. He sat on the sofa and looked for a napkin. With Lewis’s unexpected arrival they were short a place setting.
Josephine was horrified. “I will go tell Albert to get—”
“No need,” Papa said. He spoke to Nelly. “Shall we share some dishes? I will take the plate and you can have the bowl. Will that be all right?”
Nelly nodded.
Then Papa picked up Nelly’s fork and spoon.”Which do you prefer, the fork or the spoon?
She took the spoon from him.
“Well now,” Papa said. “Shall we say grace?”
Josephine was relieved when Nelly bowed her head.
Papa gave the blessing. “Bless us, O Lord, for these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Help us to be mindful of all our blessings, and the needs of those who have less. Amen.”
“Amen,” they all said—including Nelly.
Then he lifted the lid on the bowl. “Yum. Roast beef.”
Her eyes wide, Nelly nearly drooled.
“Do you like roast?” Papa asked her.
She shrugged and spoke for the first time since the men had arrived. “I don’t get no meat at Miss Mandy’s. The ladies do, but she says I don’t need none.”
“Need any,” Josephine said. She immediately felt foolish for it, for Nelly’s grammatical failings were the least of the girl’s problems.
“She’s from Miss Mandy’s?” Lewis asked.
Josephine passed him the bread. “Not anymore.”
Papa spooned some sliced carrots on Nelly’s plate. Nelly pushed one onto her spoon and ate it. “Miss Josephine came and took me.”
“So I see,” Papa said. “And how did that go, daughter? Did Miss Mandy agree with your opinions and your plan?”
Frieda let a “humph” escape.
“It did not go without incident,” Josephine said. “But I didn’t expect it would.”
“More than one man tried to stop her,” Frieda said.
Nelly pointed out the window with her spoon. “You shoulda seen the ruckus.”
“There was nearly a riot,” Frieda said under her breath.
“There was no such thing,” Josephine said. “Really, they exaggerate. Yes, I encountered some resistance, but my goal was accomplished and—”
“Once Miss Mandy got the money . . .” Frieda said.
Nelly nodded, trying to cut a piece of roast with her spoon. “She likes money.”
Papa cut it for her. “What money?”
“I didn’t pay any money,” Josephine said. “Mr. Maguire was kind enough to—”
“So she rightly belongs to him.”
Josephine couldn’t believe Lewis’s words. “She does not belong to anyone. Did we not just fight a war to end slavery?”
“I seem to remember that,” Papa said.
Josephine buttered a piece of bread and laid it on Nelly’s plate. Nelly set the roast on top and folded the bread over, making a sandwich. Josephine admired her resourcefulness.
“Mr. Maguire rightly concluded that Miss Mandy’s objections might be quelled by a few coins.”
“She is used to being paid for her favors,” Lewis said.
“Enough,” Papa said to him under his breath.
Lewis looked at his plate.
“Where are you from?” Papa asked Nelly. “Originally.”
She looked at Josephine, as if asking whether she should say.
“Go on. Tell us.”
“I lived in Council Bluffs. In Iowa, with my parents. But they died.”
Josephine’s heart melted. “I am so sorry.”
“How did they die?” Papa asked.
“Pa pushed Mama down the stairs, then shot himself.”
Josephine sucked in a breath, which made her cough.
“That’s terrible,” Papa said. “I’m sure you miss them very much.”
“Not really,” Nelly said, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Pa beat me, and Mama used to be a whore till she had me. Miss Mandy and the other ladies are much nicer than they ever were.”
Josephine felt tears threaten.
“Can I have some more carrots, please?” Nelly asked.
“Of course.” Anything you want.
Papa patted his mouth, then set his napkin aside. He said to Josephine, “If I could have a word outside, daughter?”
Josephine followed him, her stomach tight. They stepped away from the railcar. “I am so sorry—”
Papa stopped her words with a hand. “I don’t object to having Nelly with us, as it is—”
“You don’t?”
“Let me finish. I don’t object to having her with us, as it is clear she needed saving. What I do object to is your taking matters into your own hands. You might have been assaulted or shot or who knows what else. This is not Washington. These are not cultured people, nor are they people with high morals or even much common sense. They are out here in the wild because they have a wild streak within them. You yourself witnessed a man shot for far less reason than what you did today, taking Nelly.”
“I’m sorry, Papa. But the thought of her spending another day or night at Miss Mandy’s made me sick to my stomach. I know you are busy. But I couldn’t wait until you had the time. I had the time, so I just did it.”
“You always just do it. You’re too impulsive. What you want, you take. So far there haven’t been any consequences, but your good fortune cannot last forever. One of these days, your impulsive behavior will get you in trouble. And just because Nelly is here with us, it does not mean she’s completely safe. There are those who might not take kindly to her absence.” He put a finger beneath her chin. “You are the light of my life, sweet girl. I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you.”
She nodded, feeling the same way about him. And now she was doubly glad he didn’t know about her meeting the Indian woman. Or the Mormons.
“That’s why tomorrow I am sending you back home. To Washington.”
“But I don’t want to go home yet. I just—”
“We are ready to lay track again. We’ll be leaving Cheyenne, heading west into untamed country—as if anything is tamed out here.” They both turned toward the sound of a coyote in the distance. “You remember what I told you about the Indian attacks?”
She nodded.
“General Dodge is determined to clean up the Indians and has asked for more troops. Things could turn nasty. You and Frieda and Nelly are going home.”
“Nelly too?”
He gave her a peeved look. “Wasn’t that your plan? You certainly didn’t expect me to take care of her.”
“No, no,” she said. “Not you. I suppose I thought one of the pioneer families would take her in.”
“Mormons?” He gave a little laugh. “Mormons who have shunned the town because of its decadence? You thought they would take in a girl from a brothel and make her one of their own?”
It did seem ridiculous. But in truth, she hadn’t thought much beyond taking Nelly. It was a huge oversight. “But what will Mother say? And Aunt Bernice?”
He held a finger beneath her chin. “You made this bed, so now you must lie in it. Unfortunately it is not just your problem. It will affect Nelly, and Frieda, and those at home. Now do you see the disadvantage of acting impulsively?”
“I can’t very well send her back to Miss Mandy’s.”
“No, you cannot. And so, as a consequence—hopefully as a lesson against future impulsive acts—you must cut short your visit and take Nelly to safety.”
She thought of the way they had arrived, with Lewis to accompany them. “What about an escort? Frieda and I cannot travel that far by ourselves. And I don’t think Lewis is ready to go back to—”
“I don’t want Lewis to go with you.”
“You don’t?”
“I know you two are engaged, and I also know I supported the match. But after spending time with him here . . . something about him rubs the wrong way.”
“It does?”
“I don’t mean to disappoint you or disparage him, but there seems to be a certain . . . deficiency in his character.”
“Such as?” She wanted him to say it plain.
“He puts himself before others.”
Josephine hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath until she let it out. “I know.”
“You’ve seen it too?” Papa asked.
“I didn’t want to see it. I did my best to ignore it, but . . .” She tried to think of a way to be generous. “He is not you, Papa. You have made me expect high standards in a man, and Lewis . . .”
“Falls short.”
She nodded, feeling great relief at having it out in the open. “I thought you supported the match—Mother certainly does—so I left things as they were. But now . . . Would you prefer I was released from the engagement?”
He looked at her for a long moment. “I would.”
She let his words sink in and was surprised when the notion did not cause sadness or pain.
Papa pulled her into an embrace. “You have always spoken your mind, Josephine. Although it sometimes gets you in trouble, I much prefer you be frank rather than suffer because you don’t wish to cause offense.”
She wondered how Lewis would react to the news. Even the thought of ending their betrothal made her stomach clench.
“Can you take us home, Papa? I’m sure Mother would so enjoy seeing you.”
He shook his head vehemently. “There is no way I can leave. It will have to be someone else. Someone I can trust.” He looked south toward the river, then took in a breath. “I know the man. Maguire. Hudson Maguire.”
Josephine’s heart beat double-time, but she dared not show her eagerness—or even acknowledge the emotion to herself. With a new breath she said quite calmly, “He has proven himself to be trustworthy. And a gentleman.”
“I will ask him about it.” He walked away as if he was intent on doing just that. But then he turned back. “If I were you, I wouldn’t say anything to Lewis just yet.”
Josephine nodded, and as she watched him leave, she felt the birth of a smile she had difficulty suppressing. Yes, they were leaving early, and yes, she would have to face the repercussions of bringing Nelly back home. But the fact that Hudson was going to accompany them to Washington?
Her reaction was surprisingly strong. And pleasant.
“What do you think?” the general asked Hudson. “Are you up to the challenge of escorting three females halfway across the country?”
“Well, yes, sir. Though I will say I’m a little stunned by the request. Didn’t Simmons bring them out?”
“He did, but I have had a change of heart about him. I need someone I can trust with my most precious jewel, my Josephine.” The general looked deep into Hudson’s eyes. “Someone I can completely, absolutely trust to see her safely home.”
Hudson got the message. “But don’t you need me here? We’re starting to lay rail tomorrow and—”
“Which only supports my decision to send my daughter home. I must also consider potential trouble with the Indians and the tension Josephine caused by taking the girl.”
“Has there been more trouble?”
“Not yet. But I don’t want to wait until there is. And by the way . . .” The general pulled out a wallet. “How much do I owe you for your payment to Miss Mandy?”
“It’s not necessary.”
“It is. The amount please.”
“Five dollars.”
The general pressed that amount into his hand, then another twenty. “For expenses. I need all of you on that train, heading east. Do you agree to do me this very large favor?”
“I do.”
Hudson could think of nothing he’d rather do.
As soon as they finished the meal and Lewis left, Josephine broached the subject of leaving with Frieda and Nelly. “Papa says we are leaving tomorrow,” she declared.
Frieda stopped her task of trying to run a comb through Nelly’s hair. “So soon? We came all this way for such a short time?”
“Things have changed.” She nodded toward Nelly. “Actually, the three of us are going back to Washington, where it is—” She left off the “safe” word and changed direction. “Because it is time.”
“What’s Washington?” Nelly asked as she played with a hairpin.
“It’s where we live. Where you will live now.”
The hairpin was forgotten. “But I like it here.”
Like it? How can you like it?
“You will like Washington too. My mother and aunt are there and—”
Frieda interrupted. “What will they think of . . . this?”
They will hate it. “They always emphasize how we should help those in need.”
Frieda shook her head. Josephine understood her hesitance and doubt, for it was her own.
She added the pièce de résistance. “Mr. Maguire will accompany us on our journey.”
Frieda dropped the comb. “Not Lewis?”
“Not Lewis. Papa no longer trusts him.”
“And he trusts Mr. Maguire?”
“Apparently.” Josephine retrieved the comb and handed it to Frieda. “As do I.”
Frieda gave her a familiar look. “If the general says so, I will trust Mr. Maguire. But that leaves the larger question.”
“Which is?”
“Can I trust you?”
“Me?”
“I think you know my meaning.”
She did.
While Frieda hung Nelly’s now-clean dress to dry on the back platform, a freshly washed Nelly was at the window, looking outside. She was dressed in one of Josephine’s nightgowns, the sleeves rolled high. Her brow was dipped in worry.
Josephine moved beside her. “What are you looking at?”
“Will they come get me?”
“Who?”
“Miss Mandy or . . . the sweet man.”
Given the way she said it, Josephine guessed the man was anything but sweet. “What sweet man?”
Nelly shook her head and gave a little shudder. Then she looked at Josephine. “Was that Lewis fellow right? Do I belong to that man who paid for me?”
Josephine wanted to cry. She put her arm around Nelly and drew her head against her breast. “No one owns you, Nelly. And you are safe here with me and Frieda and Papa. We won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
“Or let anyone get me?”
Josephine’s throat grew tight. “Or anyone get you.” Just let anyone try.
Frieda stood, her work done. “Okay, girl. To bed with you.”
Nelly climbed between the covers. “This is soft.” She drew the sheet to her nose. “It smells like fresh air.”
Josephine knelt beside her, looking into the face of not just a child, but her child. In spite of all Nelly had endured, there was innocence there. The knowledge that Josephine was taking Nelly away from anything that could further taint that innocence strengthened her.
She took Nelly’s hands in hers. “Let’s say prayers.”
Nelly closed her eyes. “Now I lay me down to sleep . . .”
Josephine joined in, “I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”
Frieda stood over them and added her voice, “If I shall die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
“Amen,” Nelly said with gusto.
Josephine was pleased—and surprised. “Who taught you that prayer?”
“One of the ladies. Miss Vera. She made me say it every night.”
“Really?”
Nelly let go of Josephine’s hands and turned on her side. “I’m tired.”
Josephine stood. “You’ve had a hard day.”
“So have you,” Nelly said.
She was a smart little whip.
Josephine leaned down and gave her a kiss good night.
Josephine awakened in the middle of the night, but she wasn’t sure of the cause. She lay still and held her breath, but the only sound she heard was Frieda’s soft snore beside her.
But then . . .
There it was again. Voices. Soft, but there.
Josephine slipped out of bed and looked through the door to the main room that she’d left ajar, just in case Nelly needed them.
Nelly was standing beside the town-side of the railcar, leaning out an open window, talking to someone on the ground below.
Had the “sweet man” come to nab her?
Josephine burst out of the bedroom. “What’s going on?”
Nelly jumped back from the window. “I’m just talking to—”
“Who are you talking to?” Josephine grabbed her parasol to use as a weapon, then looked out the window, ready to jab anyone who dared get close.
But then she saw it wasn’t a man but a woman with black hair, a shawl wrapped close around her.
“It’s just Miss Vera,” Nelly said.
Vera of the bedtime prayer. Vera who’d brought Nelly’s belongings out of the brothel.
Josephine dropped the parasol and stuck her head out the window. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
“I couldn’t sleep, thinking about the girl.” She pulled the shawl tighter. “I was just seeing she was all right.”
Josephine let herself take a fresh breath. Everything was fine. There was no threat in the night. “She is doing well,” she told Vera.
Nelly nudged her way beside Josephine. “We’re going to Washington tomorrow.”
“All that way?”
“My father thinks it best.”
Vera looked to Nelly. “You all right going so far?”
Nelly hesitated. “Is it very far?” she asked Vera.
Vera shrugged. “It’s a ways.” She looked at Josephine. “You take care of her, you hear? She’s special.”
Josephine was touched by her concern. “I will make sure she’s safe.”
“And happy. Make her happy.”
“I will do my best.”
Nelly turned to Josephine. “Can I go hug Miss Vera good-bye? Please.”
“I suppose.”
Nelly ran toward the door of the railcar and fumbled with the lock. Josephine helped her with the latch, and the girl ran into Vera’s arms.
Together they rocked, and Vera kissed the top of her head. “It’s good you get away, Nell. But I’ll miss you something awful.”
“I’ll miss you too.”
Then Vera let her loose and walked toward the town.
Josephine ushered Nelly back inside and helped her into bed. She was curious about Vera, but her questions could keep until the long trip home. “To sleep now,” she said, tucking her in.
“Miss Vera’s nice. I’ll miss her.”
“Maybe we can send her a letter when we get home.”
“Really?”
Why not? Sending a letter to a prostitute was nothing compared to taking one into her home.