Separate Roads (4 page)

“Jordana is rapidly exhausting the Omaha Library Association’s supply of reading materials,” Brenton said. “It’s always good when Mother and Father send books from home.”

“The library is just as happy when I receive books because I usually donate them to the society as soon as I study them through,” Jordana added.

The party continued with several other small articles offered to Jordana to honor her birthday. Rich felt uncomfortable to be the only one without some such gift, but he knew also that his intrusion had been a last-minute act of graciousness on Jordana’s part.

“It’s probably a little less noisy by the fireplace,” Brenton suggested. “Why don’t we go over there, and you can tell me what plans the UP has devised for the future.”

Glad for the excuse to draw away from the others, Rich and Brenton walked to the fireplace and sat down on small wooden chairs. “I can’t say that I know a great deal about it, Mr. Baldwin. My men and I were singled out for this special assignment after someone wrote to my superior praising our company for our performance in Missouri.”

Brenton’s face reddened. “I have to admit, I did send a letter. My father also wrote, and he probably offered even more praise. I can’t thank you enough for what you did for us. I hope this assignment is one of honor for you.”

Rich frowned. How could he admit that he was miserable over the entire matter? The war had caused enough problems for him, sending most of the regular army off to fight the battle back east. Fort Larned in Kansas had become a home to him after a round of tragedies had left him overwhelmed with life, and he liked it there. He longed only to be back at the fort, drilling his cavalry on the open plains, making the land safe for new settlers.

It was bad enough that he’d been transferred to Fort Leavenworth to fight border wars between Kansas and Missouri, but now he found himself playing nursemaid to a bunch of city folk who were trying to map out a route for a railroad. How could he possibly hope that Brenton Baldwin, a man several years his junior and no doubt comfortable in his own existence, would understand that this wasn’t the life he envisioned for himself? Or, that while he found it honorable, it was far from desirable?

Brenton seemed not to have noticed Rich’s discomfort, for he was moving right along and making comments about things his father had spoken of in his letters from New York. “Father believes the war has to end soon. He sees the problem of too few industries in the South and feels confident that they will yield for lack of goods, if nothing else. I believe they will soon reason this thing out for themselves and realize that this nation should no longer be divided. Causes and standards are all well and fine, but I suppose they should mean very little in light of starving families and dying wounded. The Confederates must sooner or later realize the need to put aside their differences and see this nation healed.”

Rich listened to Brenton’s idealistic notions before asking, “And how is it that you aren’t in the service of your country?”

“I had thought to be,” Brenton replied, growing surprisingly sullen. “I labored over the decision because, you see, I have family on both sides of this war.”

“Many do,” Rich replied.

“I suppose that’s true enough, but I grew up in the middle of it all. Our family’s ancestral home is just outside of Washington. Our people dabbled in the political fanfare of that city and set up businesses accordingly. Our grandfather owned a plantation and held slaves but desired to free them long before it became an issue of war.”

“I see.”

Brenton stared into the flames of the fire. “I did go to enlist, but since my parents were abroad, I desired to seek my uncle’s counsel on what I was about to do. He had, however, taken up arms with the South, and I never made it to his home. Instead, I was picked up by Confederate troops and would have been hanged for being a spy, but my cousin, a captain like yourself, saved my life.”

“I take it he was the commander of the soldiers who would have put you to death?”

“Yes. We discussed the situation, and because he knew me to be answering truthfully, he took my plight seriously. I explained the dilemma. How could I fight on the side of the South, even though most of my family were doing just that, when I agreed with the policies of the Union? He took me to his commanding officer, and after we discussed the matter, I was given a letter to sign. It stated simply that I would be pardoned and released. However, I had to pledge to never bear arms against the South.”

“And you signed this letter?”

“I did,” Brenton said, looking from the fire to Rich. “I suppose you think that cowardly of me?”

“Not at all,” Rich replied. “We all have to do what we think is right. I don’t have to live with your conscience, just as you don’t have to live with mine.”

Brenton nodded. “Well, that’s why I am here, instead of there.”

“And it’s probably to your benefit. The war has taken many a life on both sides. Families have lost sons, husbands, and fathers, and our country has lost a unity that will be many years mending. Things will never be the same.”

Brenton nodded. “I suppose not.”

“Still, there is the West to settle. That will help some. Folks will come here to put the war behind them. They’re already doing that. Some of the Confederates are even signing agreements such as yours and coming west to help fight the Indian Wars rather than go to the overcrowded prisons.”

“I heard that southern prisons were certain death. That the conditions are less than humane.”

“There isn’t enough food to feed southerners, much less northern prisoners. Given the choice between caring for their own and caring for their enemy, I guess we can both figure who they’ll see to first.”

Brenton’s brow furrowed. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“I wish I weren’t,” O’Brian said rather harshly. “I also have friends in that war. Family, too. It can’t end soon enough for me.”

“How is it that you’re not there?”

“Someone had to stay behind and train volunteers and raise up support in the forts. The Indians hardly are going to cease to cause problems just because the East is at war.”

“I’ve had nothing but pleasant encounters with the Indians around here. Why, some of the Omaha tribeswomen have been helping with the grading work for the railroad. It seems unchivalrous, but their menfolk stand about watching while their women work. Then come payday, they are there to take the earnings and spend it as they please.”

“It’s their way,” Rich replied. “Men are warriors and hunters, not laborers. Indian men protect their families and hunt. Women do the menial tasks and see to the common work. The Omaha are at peace. There are Indian agents to provide government food and supplies. They have few choices that have not already been made for them, and because of this, they are left rather idle. We aren’t always very wise as educated men.”

“How so, Captain?”

“What did we expect them to do with their lives once we civilized them?” he asked ironically. He didn’t mean to take up a cause for the Indian and, in fact, knew that he would probably fight and kill many an Indian warrior before the wars were behind them and true peace came to the country. But still, he didn’t know why the white settlers and government officials were so surprised that the Indians would rise up against the onslaught of people coming into the territory. The coming of the settlers forced changes in the Indian’s way of life—a way of life that had existed far longer than the white way of life in this country.

The clock on the mantel chimed eight. Rich looked at his own pocket watch as if to confirm the time, then apologized. “I’m afraid I need to be on my way. It was nice of you to invite me to share in your party.”

“I’m sure Jordana was pleased to be able to offer this more formal thanks for what you did for her in Missouri.”

Rich nodded as he caught sight of Jordana in an animated conversation with her sister-in-law Caitlan O’Connor. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes were sparkling from the merriment of the evening. He touched the place on his back where she had struck him. It didn’t hurt much anymore, and in truth, it more amused than encumbered him.

She was some woman. His mother would say she was just the right kind of woman for a man like Rich. Then he frowned and turned to go. No woman was right for him. He wouldn’t saddle any woman with the miseries of his past.

“Jordana!” Brenton called as O’Brian crossed the room toward the door.

He saw her look up to catch sight of him taking his leave. She said something to her sister-in-law, then made her way to the door. “Are you leaving us already, Captain?”

“’Fraid so, Miss Baldwin. Duty calls. I do want to thank you for an interesting evening.” He knew she’d understand his meaning.

Jordana nodded. “I hope you didn’t find it overly stimulating.”

She was teasing him. He could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. Were he not a confirmed bachelor with so many other issues to deal with, he might well have considered giving her more attention.

“No, it wasn’t too stimulating. Perhaps a little out of the ordinary for me, but not to my detriment.”

“Good,” Jordana said with a smile.

“I do hope yar back gets to feelin’ better,” Caitlan said as she joined the others at the door.

“I’m sure it will,” Rich replied as Brenton opened the door for him. He stepped out into the night air and secured his hat. “Good night, and thank you again.”

He heard them close the door as he reached the gate. A part of him wished he could go back inside and spend the evening in companionable conversation, while another part of him was restless from the time away from his men. They had a job to do, and that should be enough to hold his focus.

Jordana’s face came to mind, and Rich smiled. “Then again,” he muttered out loud, “there’s always something to draw you off course.”

He remembered her look of surprise when she’d realized who he was and what she had done to him. He remembered too his own surprise to find that the fair lady in distress was none other than the wildcat he’d rescued in Missouri the year before.

Laughing out loud, Rich slapped his leg. “What a woman!”

4

Jordana yawned as she and Caitlan stepped from the house the next morning. “It was a fine party, Caitlan. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh, go on with ya. ’Twas clear and simple that we needed some fun, and yar birthday was the perfect excuse.” Caitlan pulled her brown crocheted shawl around her shoulders and stifled her own yawn. “I’m supposin’ we shouldn’t have stayed up quite so long.”

Jordana nodded. “I wanted only to crawl back into bed this morning. But instead, I have to go to the bank and explain to Mr. Chittenden why I refused to wait for him to escort me last night.”

“He won’t be givin’ ya grief for it, will he?” Caitlan asked as they crossed the street cautiously. The city was only now starting to wake up to a new day, but freight traffic had seemed to double in the last months. And while Brenton deemed the rowdies were sleeping off the night before, giving Jordana and Caitlan safety in walking to work without his escort, there were other circumstances that often put their lives in peril.

“Mr. Chittenden won’t say a word. After all, he
was
late. Nonetheless, he’ll give me that reproving look, staring down the end of his nose as though a bee had landed there. He’ll ‘tsk-tsk’ the matter, then go about his business,” Jordana replied.

“Ya looked to be havin’ a good time with that Captain O’Brian,” Caitlan said, suddenly changing the subject. “He’s a right handsome man. Irish, too.”

“Now, Caitlan O’Connor. I thought you were sweet on my brother. How dare you go looking at another?”

“I didn’t say I was sizin’ the man up for a weddin’, just that he was handsome. Ya know ya think the same.”

“I said nothing of the sort. Besides, what I happened to notice was that you and Brenton spent most of the evening looking at each other all moon-eyed. When are you two going to stop being so silly and talk to each other sensibly about your feelings?”

Caitlan’s teasing tone instantly faded. “There’d be no sense to talkin’. Nothin’ can come of my havin’ feelin’s for yar brother.”