Far Away Home (13 page)

Aislynn worried
about his breathing in the dust. “How much dust can there be?” he asked. “We’re
only one wagon.”

The mules
presented a struggle. They did not respond to her commands as they did to
Johnny’s. She called them every bad name she could think of while trying to
move them up to the wagon tongue and into their harnesses. “Miss Denehy,” she
heard Johnny call from the wagon, “where did you learn such language?”

“Quiet in there
or I’ll turn my anger on you!”

With the mules
finally hitched, the wagon rolled. At the first small creek, the animals balked
under her hand. Aislynn jumped down and picked up a long switch. She soon
discovered they understood her whip better than her words. Night fell near six
o’clock. From the top of a ridge, Aislynn spied the lights of Bridger, but in
this land there was no telling its distance by the road. Johnny told her to
feed the mules, and let them drink. He instructed her to tie a burning lantern
on the chains between the mules and keep moving.

In the darkness,
they approached Fort Bridger. Like Laramie, Bridger lay on a flat plain without
palisades surrounded by an Indian camp. The trail ran through dozens of teepees
with Indians huddled around sagebrush fires. With their gaunt faces and bony
bodies, they looked like ghouls in the shadowy light.

Aislynn drove
the wagon past a stable and some log and adobe buildings. She could see tents
and wagons scattered to the north on the other side of a creek, but she turned
left toward a neat row of buildings. A distinguished-looking young couple
strolled along the road. Aislynn stopped the wagon, and the woman asked if she
could help.

“You’re a New
Yorker,” Aislynn cried.

“Yes,” the woman
said. “How did you know?”

“It’s in your
voice, and it’s wonderful. I’m Aislynn… Maher.” She started to tell the couple
about Johnny and begged them for help.

“James, put the
man in our bed and then go for the doctor,” the woman ordered her companion.
“You come with me, dear,” and Aislynn fell into the woman’s arms.

The young
couple, James and Abigail Gordon, generously opened their home to Johnny and
Aislynn. The doctor pronounced Johnny well on the mend and sleeping soundly.
Abigail prepared a bath for Aislynn in front of the large stone fireplace
standing in the Gordon’s kitchen. While Aislynn soaked away her anxiety, the
two women conversed. “What do you miss most about New York City?” Aislynn
asked.

“Stewart’s Dry
Goods Palace, of course.”

“Just before we
left, I discovered you can buy most everything at Stewart’s for half price on
Orchard Street.”

“Isn’t it always
the way?” They chatted and laughed until a knock came to the door. “Do you mind
if Lillian comes in?” Abigail asked.

Aislynn emerged
from the tub and covered herself before the door opened, and the commander’s
wife entered. As the wife of Lieutenant Colonel Henry Morrow, Lillian watched
over everyone in the camp. “James has gone to bed at my house, Abigail, and he
does not seem happy to be without you.”

“Oh, he’ll sleep
just fine.”

“I don’t think
it’s the sleep he’s missing.” Sarcasm fell from Lillian’s lips, and they both
laughed at what Aislynn assumed was a private joke.

While Aislynn
dried her hair by the fire, fatigue crept over her. “I’m sorry to end this
lovely and oh, so enjoyable discussion, but I am exhausted.”

Lillian agreed,
“Yes, dear. The overland trip is bad enough, but you have had quite an ordeal.
Well, don’t fret. Women will bring civility to the West.”

Chapter 12

Aislynn woke
with a heavy weight on her chest. In the process of becoming conscious, she
discovered her protective shield, the quilt, lying on the floor. Her nightdress
was pushed up to her hips and untied to her waist. Johnny, clad only in cut-off
long johns, had one leg flung between hers and his face snuggled between her
breasts. In a panic of ignorance, she pushed him awake. As Johnny opened his
eyes and discerned his position, a grin spread across his face. His hand slid
over her soft flesh. Aislynn screamed, “Johnny!”

He bolted
upright alert to danger. He scanned the room and asked, “What are you doin’?”

Aislynn curled
up into the corner of the bed repairing her disheveled state. As she tied her
gown, she said, “I could ask you the same thing. You promised!” Aislynn reached
for the quilt and covered herself.

“Promised what?”

“You wouldn’t do
anything to get me pregnant,” Aislynn snarled.

Johnny laughed,
“Damn, Aislynn, even I wouldn’t sleep through that.”

Aislynn scowled
and studied him for a lie. Johnny leaned against the scrolled iron footboard
and folded his arms. His eyes flew open. “You don’t know. Good God, Aislynn,
you’ve been denyin’ me the slightest touch because you don’t know.”

“I do.” She
explained Sean’s warning.

“You don’t know.
I should have realized.” Johnny shook his head. “You lying naked with me isn’t
goin’ to get you pregnant. Me touchin’ your breast isn’t goin’ do it either.”
As he explained the facts, Aislynn recoiled further from him with every word.

“How revolting.
Decent people would never,” she replied while she pulled a blanket up to her
chin.

“Ask Tim.”

Insulted,
Aislynn said, “Don’t drag Tim down to such a level.”

“He’s a man,
Aislynn; every man wants to do it.”

She could not
put Tim and this behavior together. “Why?”

“Because it makes
you feel like your body’s gone to heaven.”

Aislynn’s face
twisted in disgust. “I can’t imagine any one behaving like that and getting
anywhere near heaven.” She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms
around her legs.

“Hey, I didn’t
make things this way; He did,” Johnny pointed upward. “If you would just let me
show you, you’d see.”

Aislynn lowered
her head and asked, “Is that what you did with Patty and Linda?”

Johnny’s tongue
rubbed his back teeth. He reluctantly nodded, “Yes, and they enjoyed it.”

Aislynn hugged
her legs tighter, “I’m not like them.”

“Which is why
I’ve followed you for 2,000 miles.”

Aislynn stared
at the covers trying to absorb the information. Johnny reached out and gently
stroked her exposed toes. Pouting, Aislynn stammered, “I don’t want to.”

Johnny exhaled a
long frustrated breath, “I know.” Johnny rose and pulled on his clothes. “I’ll
accept that for now, but things will change, Aislynn.”

Fort Bridger was
a low, orderly arrangement of adobe, log and plank buildings surrounding a
green parade ground. Tall cottonwoods with leaves rattling in the perpetual
wind stood sentinel around the camp. Groshen Creek separated the enlisted men’s
barracks from the neat row of officers’ quarters. Abigail held Aislynn’s arm
while they strolled around the camp. Aislynn tried to be attentive to Abigail’s
chatter, but her mind wandered back to her morning tutorial.

“Abigail,” she
started, “do you like being married?”

“Being out here
isn’t like being at a big exciting post. I have some duties, but mostly, I just
have to behave properly.” Abigail stopped walking and looked at Aislynn.
“You’re not talking about official duties. You mean the other part.”

Aislynn could
feel her face go red and her nose curl. She looked at the ground and nodded.

“Sometimes it’s
enjoyable, and sometimes it’s the last thing I want to do. But it’s so
important to men, isn’t it? I always begin by telling myself, ‘This time it
might be satisfying.’ It’s always such a pleasant surprise when it is.” Abigail
grabbed her arm again and propelled her forward. “Of course,” Abigail
continued, “James isn’t nearly the size of your husband.”

Aislynn missed a
step. She had not considered a size factor. She took a breath and walked along
thinking the entire idea so repulsive she would not consider intercourse with
anyone, not even with Tim. 

They ambled to
Lillian’s house and found her sitting in the shade of a pine. “Hello, my
dears!” she exclaimed. “You look rested, Aislynn. I hope you’re recovering.”
Old enough to be their mother, Lillian seemed to adopt a maternal air with
everyone under her husband’s command. Aislynn assured her she felt fine.

Lillian invited
them into the dining room for lemonade. She explained they would have to be
quiet as her husband and some of his officers were in the parlor encouraging
the Bannock and Shoshoni Indians to settle on reservations. After an 1867 gold
strike on the Indians’ lands in the Wind River Mountains, the government wanted
to make the area safe for the prospectors thronging into the region. This meant
confining the tribes.

With the coming
railroad, the tribes recognized they were losing their native ground and their
supply of life-sustaining buffalo. The Western Shoshonis had the added threat
of their traditional enemies, the Sioux, the Cheyenne and the Arapaho, invading
their allocated lands. Before they settled on reservations and adopted farming,
the tribes wanted assurance from the government they would be protected. Henry
was conducting the preliminary negotiations with the chiefs so all would be
ready for General William Tecumseh Sherman to formalize the treaty when he
arrived.

The ladies
climbed the stairs to the porch and Aislynn held the door as Lillian and
Abigail entered the dimly lit hall. She heard Lillian say, “Oh my, isn’t he
splendid?” Abigail giggled, and they turned into the dining room. Aislynn
quietly pulled the door closed and started down the hall. Her eye caught a
tall, well-built Indian leaning against the parlor’s wooden archway. His white,
woolen shirt hung open to his waist, exposing his muscular chest. Her eyes were
drawn to the red fabric flap hanging over his tight, buckskin pants. The
handsome profile had the striking, carved features of a statue. He turned
slightly and gave her a sullen, sideways glance. Abruptly, his head whipped
around, and she could see his skin darken as recognition and embarrassment
spread over his face.

Aislynn tugged
at the sides of her skirt, bowed her head and dipped into a low curtsy. With
suspicion in his eyes, he bowed to her. She tilted her head and sent him a
reassuring smile as she entered the dining room. Although she sat facing the
kitchen, she could see the hall and its occupant in her peripheral vision. He
stood arrow straight. His face held taut muscles and clenched teeth. He
appeared to be wound as tight as a clock.

While Aislynn
carried on a light conversation with the ladies, the discussion coming from the
parlor drew her attention. Chief Washakie’s voice was dignified and solemn. The
Indian’s language became English and English became Shoshoni, as words filtered
through an interpreter with a French accent. The Chief was asking for a
guarantee from the white men not to trespass on the reservation. The Indian’s
repeated requests to be unmolested in their own country resonated with
familiarity for Aislynn.

“And if gold is
discovered on our land, what will the white father do?” Washakie asked.

“Well,” Henry
began, “we cannot promise…”

“Aislynn, are
you all right?” Lillian interrupted her eavesdropping.

The back door
slammed. Aislynn looked up and discovered her Indian gone.

“I do need to
excuse myself,” she said as she rose and went out the back door in the
direction of the privy.

She found him
standing beneath a tall cottonwood, looking up at its leaves clattering like
bones hanging in the wind. As she approached, she could feel the space between
them vibrating with his anger. She stepped into the dark, shaded circle. “I’m
sorry,” she began, “We’ve come to find our place, and we’re taking yours.”

He raised his
hand, encircled her neck and pulled her toward him. Reflexively, her hands shot
up and landed on his bare chest. The smell of burning sagebrush surrounded his
body and tobacco smoke hung on his breath. His thumb ran down her throat and
pressed into the soft tissue above her breastbone. She trembled under his hand,
but she did not feel fear. “It’s wrong, backwards. We take your land, and we
give you back tiny pieces to live on.” Aislynn shook her head. Remembering her
father’s plight in Ireland, tears rose in her eyes, “We’ve become the English.”

His eyes
softened as he visibly passed from anger into grief. She felt the chasm of
their differences narrowing, but she felt the tension between them expanding.
He moved his thumb to her mouth. Slowly, he slid it over her top lip then
pressed it across the wet inside of her bottom lip. Aislynn felt his touch deep
inside her body. For a moment, the taboo against white women with Indian men
vanished. Her breathing faltered and she could feel what Johnny had told that
morning was true.

His language
spilled from the top of the steps. Startled, they turned to find his
English-speaking friend. The distraction allowed her to catch her breath. Her
Indian gave her a slight, spiritless smile. He placed his hand on her shoulder
and nodded toward the house. As she walked past the English speaker, she whispered,
“Tell him I’m sorry.”

Aislynn prepared
dinner for Abigail and James to thank them for their kindness. As the
discussion progressed around the table, Johnny announced, “The blacksmith
offered me a job here on the post.”

Fear dashed
through Aislynn.

“Oh, Aislynn,”
Abigail cried, “you could stay. You could buy land and build a house. We could
be together every day.”

Aislynn
struggled for a polite refusal. “But you’ll be restationed soon, and we would
be here alone.”

“We’re hoping
James will be appointed commander. Then, we could both have big houses, and we
could decorate together. We would have such fun, Aislynn. Please stay.”

Aislynn’s heart
raced. “We can’t,” she nearly exploded, “Tim is counting on us. He has no one.”
She looked at Johnny and pleaded, “We have to go on.”

Aislynn held her
breath watching Johnny for a response. He rubbed his tongue on his back teeth
and nodded, “She’s right. We promised Tim. It wouldn’t be fair to stop 135
miles short of him.”

Aislynn relaxed
with relief. James interjected in his formal manner, “Well, if you’re set on
going to the Utah Territory, we’re dispatching a patrol to relieve the men from
Fort Russell who have been escorting some Union Pacific directors and
inspectors along the proposed rail line. I’d be glad to add you to their
detail. I can guarantee you safe passage as far as Echo Canyon. They’ll go on
to Salt Lake City, and you’ll have to travel alone to Ogden, but those last
thirty miles are reportedly well settled.”

An acceptance
burst from Aislynn.

The Union
Pacific’s wagon road was poorly cut and followed the surveyors’ line. It wound
through canyons of rock and over streams full from snowmelt. Everyone followed
Chief Engineer Samuel Reed’s commands. Although they frequently stopped to
examine the route, Johnny’s mules were pressed to keep pace with the mounted
men and their supply wagons teamed with muscular horses.

Neither the
railroad men nor the soldiers paid particular attention to Aislynn; however,
she felt intimidated by her status as the lone female. Her days were spent
riding next to Johnny, only speaking to him. She prepared their meals at the
tailgate and sat in the wagon while Johnny cooked it over their fire within the
corral. Not wanting to create a shadow show for the men, she washed in the dark
of the wagon. It was a lonely journey, but they made Echo Canyon in five days.

Like most
Americans, Aislynn and Johnny followed the progress of the transcontinental
railroad with great interest. The press had reported that the preliminary
survey designated the transcontinental railroad route would run through the
center of the Mormon world, Salt Lake City. Brigham Young, President of the
Latter Day Saints, who ruled the Mormon’s secular and sectarian community,
favored the Union Pacific’s project. Although he worried about the impact the
inevitable outsiders would have on his saintly followers, he welcomed the
economic benefits the Mormon capital would reap by being the terminus of the
line. At Echo Canyon, where all believed the line would turn to Salt Lake City,
the soldiers went south and the Union Pacific workers veered north to Ogden.

For Aislynn,
Ogden was a milestone, the town closest to Moran’s ranch and Tim. Pulling into
the small Mormon community, they found a wide, dirt road stretching through the
center of the town with several tributaries running perpendicular and parallel;
all were flanked by log and false-fronted wooden buildings. Residents glared as
they passed, riding under the American flag. Mormon ideas of separatism and
their practice of polygyny frequently strained relations between them and the
United States government.

The group leader
directed Aislynn and Johnny to the telegraph office. They walked by the furtive
eyes of the onlookers to a small shack radiating wires and waving the Stars and
Stripes.

“How much for
five words?” Johnny asked the thin man.

The operator squinted
at the couple, “You Gentiles?”

Aislynn,
remembering Morton, steeled herself for a difficult time. “Yes,” Johnny
replied.

“Good, we need
more of us ‘round here. Five words for a dollar. Where’s it goin?”

Johnny answered,
“New York City. We want it to say, ‘We are safe in Utah.’ ”