Maggie's Journey (McKenna's Daughters) (21 page)

Maggie picked up on his last two sentences. “Yes. Something like that.”

She shifted, trying to get more comfortable in a train seat that was becoming increasingly harder the farther they traveled. What had she done with that small pillow? She leaned over and dug it from her carpetbag as she gathered her thoughts.

After placing the puff under her, she turned her attention back toward him. “But even more than that, would you tell your wife she couldn’t own and run a business?”

Charles dropped his foot back on the floor and leaned toward Maggie. “Are you talking about your designing ability? Agatha was very proud of your talents.”

“Sort of.” Maggie hedged, then decided she should lay it all out on the table. “I learned a lot from her, and I really want to start a designing and dressmaking business in Seattle sometime. Do you think that would keep a man from courting me?”

The words hung between them much longer than Maggie wanted them to before he answered. For a moment fear of completely losing her chance with him gained a foothold. If her parentage didn’t stand in their way, maybe her wanting to own a business would.

“I don’t want to give you some glib, easy answer.” The silence stretched between them while Charles pondered what to say. Finally, he answered. “I’d need to pray with my wife as we seek what the Lord wants, but for myself, I would be proud of her talents and encourage her all I could.”

Although she had been anxious because he took so long to answer, she accepted his words with her whole heart. Maggie hugged his words to her heart. Another reason to love this man.

Georgia cleared her throat. Maggie glanced toward her.

“I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but of course, I heard everything both of you said.” Her aunt laughed. “How could I miss it sitting so near both of you?”

Charles laughed. “For a few moments, I forgot we had an audience. I guess I’m just so used to having you around.”

“So you just take me for granted.” Georgia joined in his laughter.

Maggie felt her cheeks heat. Why did she always do that? Was it just part of being a redhead with fair skin? Charles used to tease her that everything showed on her face.

“Maggie, I know there will be lots to discuss with your parents when we get home, but I wanted to tell you what I’ve decided about my own life.” Georgia shot her a hopeful look.

She wasn’t sure what her aunt meant, but Maggie welcomed the interruption. “Go ahead.”

“I’ve been living in Portland since Scott died. With no relatives nearby.” Georgia started pleating the edges of the ruffle running down the bodice of her dress. “He put it in his will that his partner could buy his half of the business if he offered a fair price. My attorney handled the sale, and I have more than enough money to live on the rest of my life, even if I live to a ripe old age.” She dropped her hands in her lap. “And I’m not going to stay in Oregon. Now would be a good time to sell my house and move to Seattle to live near family.”

Maggie threw her arms around her aunt. “I’m so glad. I’d love to have you in the same town.”

After returning the hug, Georgia leaned against the back of the seat. “I’m not finished. I want to do something with my life too. So when the time comes that you’re able to start your design business, I want to be your partner. I helped Mother with the business part before Scott and I married, and I could take care of those details while you design and oversee the sewing. We would have enough capital to invest in anything you think we need—sewing machines, a building, employees, whatever.”

Stunned, Maggie sank back. Could this be the answer to her prayers?

She looked at Charles. His warm smile encouraged her.

“Actually, that sounds like a very good idea.” His eyes held none of the censure she’d seen in her mother’s face whenever Maggie mentioned being a dress designer.

Was God really planning to give her the desires of her heart? She hoped so, but there were still roadblocks ahead.

When they arrived at home, would she be able to face and accept whatever truth she heard from her parents?

Chapter 21

Maggie had hoped she could do some sketching while they were on the train, but she couldn’t. Some of the ride was fairly smooth, but when they reached the Rockies, the train swayed and bumped far too much. So whenever they stopped, she got off the train with her pad and drawing supplies and found a place to sit outside the depot and sketch. Often she sat by a shack. Other times, the station had a platform and other buildings surrounding it. She wanted to remember all the varying vistas the mountains presented. Charles procured food for them, and she would eat on the train after they were underway again.

At first, she drew only mountains and the valleys where they stopped, including whatever buildings the towns might have. On shorter stops, she had to work quickly to get the basic outlines down, hoping her memory would help her fill them in after she arrived in Seattle. But on the longer stops, she was able to almost complete a picture, even adding a few of the interesting characters they met along the way.

In one whistle-stop town, a saloon was right across the dirt road from the tracks. A forlorn saloon girl stood in the doorway, leaning her arms on the top of the swinging door. She looked lost, wistful. Loneliness leaked from her pores.

Compassion flooded Maggie’s heart. She wondered what had brought this woman, who looked far too young to be working in a saloon, to this place in her life. She wanted to document her pathos in the picture. As she made quick strokes, Maggie’s heart took over, and she poured her mercy into each line. Soon the drawing contained a very good portrayal of the woman, her blonde curls clustering around her shoulders and far too much of her skin revealed above the top of her dress, which slid off one shoulder. For some unknown reason, Maggie wanted to retain a clear picture of this downtrodden woman, so she could pray for God to send someone to help her leave the life she was living. Could her own mother have been a woman such as this? She prayed that if she were, someone rescued her from the situation.

In another town, their stop was longer, so Maggie had time to eat with Charles and Georgia and still get in sketching time. A scraggly miner leading a donkey with a large pack tied to its back soon filled a page of her sketchbook. She was getting pretty good at this. For years, she’d thought all her drawing abilities were confined to designing clothing. If she ever opened a design business, she might frame some of these sketches to hang on the walls in among the dress designs.

Finally, Maggie succumbed to the desire to try her hand at sketching Charles.
What could it hurt?
On the next leg of the journey, she often studied him as unobtrusively as possible, making note of the shape of his face, the way his hair lay across his forehead and curled above his collar in the back, his eyes, his ears, even his hands. Every detail she etched into her mind so she could get them down on paper. She figured the hardest would be getting his sculptured brows and lips. Over and over, her eyes traveled over these features until she could see them in her mind. An unfortunate effect of all this study was his entrance into her dreams every night. At least she wasn’t anxious to awaken in the morning.

At the very next stop, she started her experiment. With each line she made, his handsome face took shape. She even captured the slight quirk of his right brow, and the hint of a cleft in his chin. She’d never studied a man as closely as she had Charles. She hadn’t realized how strong his chin looked or how high the cheekbones were that gave a foundation to his wonderful dark eyes. To her amazement, the drawing emerged lightning quick. When she finished adding every shadow she wanted and smudged them so they blended into the whole, she quickly closed the sketch pad. She didn’t want anyone else to see this drawing until she went back to it later to check how accurate it was. Even with the dress designs, she liked to lay aside a drawing and go back to it later. After the passage of time, she could look at it with a critical eye and see what needed to be changed to improve it.

•••

Charles noticed Maggie when she closed her sketch pad so hard the sheets slapped together. He wondered if she had made a mess of whatever she drew. Maybe sometime he would be able to see for himself.

After a couple more stops, where the air grew increasingly colder, he wondered if they would get out of the mountains in time to beat the snows. By the next morning, the railcar was extremely cold when he awakened shortly before dawn. He made the trip to the necessary room with his whole body shaking against the freezing temperatures. The blanket on the bed didn’t give enough warmth to keep him from shivering. So he got his carpetbag and went back to the privacy in the tiny cold room. The only way to protect from frostbite was to put on every garment he had in that bag. Two pairs of long underwear, three pairs of wool socks, three long-sleeved shirts, two pairs of wool trousers, and his jacket. If he didn’t warm up soon, he’d see if he could get to his portmanteau in the baggage car. Now how could he keep the women warm?

Where is the conductor with wood for the stoves?
He opened the door and stepped out on the small platform at the end of the car. In the early morning light, tiny snowflakes swirled between the two railcars. He didn’t see anyone coming toward him in the next car. Without hesitation, he ducked back into their passenger car, rubbing his hands together. He grabbed his leather gloves from his bag and slipped them on icy fingers, then thrust them under his armpits.

He stared down into the stove, and only a few embers glowed in its belly. The passengers would be in real trouble if they didn’t get wood soon. If he knew where it was, he’d get some himself. At least most of the passengers who had boarded the train in Little Rock had already reached their destinations, so a lot of the seats were empty, and only a few of the beds were pulled down from the wall.

When he arrived back beside his bed, he heard Maggie stirring in the bottom one.

“Maggie.” He hoped she could hear his whisper. He didn’t want to disturb the others who still slept.

“Charles? I’m so cold.” Even through the curtains, he could hear her teeth chatter.

“I know.” He took the blanket off his bed and thrust it through the slit between the curtains. “Use this to cover up too. I’m trying to find out what’s going on. The fire in the stove at the back has almost gone out. I’m sure the front one has as well. I’m going to look for the conductor.”

While he was talking, the brakes set up a squeal and the engine started slowing down.

“It feels as if we’re stopping.” Maggie’s voice trembled as she thrust her head out, but held the curtains together under her chin. “Should I get up?”

“If you want to, but you need to put on all the clothing you have in your bag. I’m wearing all of mine, and I’m still not warm. Maybe we can pull down the empty beds and take the blankets. If we divide them among the few people left in this car, they should help us all warm up.”

Maggie slipped behind her closed curtains. From the amount of movement he heard on the other side, he knew she was following his advice.
Good girl.

He headed toward the front of the car. The door opened before he reached it, and the conductor quickly shut it behind himself. The man looked startled when he turned and saw Charles so close.

“Sorry to awaken you, sir.”

“I’m just trying to find out what’s going on.” Charles clapped his gloved hands together, hoping to get his blood flowing through his fingertips.

“Well, we’ve almost run out of wood. I’m headin’ to get the last of it. We have just enough to fill each of the six stoves one more time. I talked to the engineer. We were scheduled to stop for water and wood right up the rails, but that water tank froze. Thing sprung a leak. Some of the flow’s on the track.”

Didn’t sound good to Charles. “Will this be a serious problem?”

The man slowly shook his head. “They’s got fires goin’ meltin’ as much as they can, so we can get enough water. Some people that live nearby’s helpin’. We’ll have hot coffee and hot stew fer the passengers. Need to get through this next pass before we get snowed in.” The man blew on his chapped fingers.

Charles pulled off his gloves. “Can I get into the baggage car?”

“Sure ’nough. Just come with me.”

Before he could turn to go, Charles gave him the gloves. “Take these. I have another pair in my luggage.”

They crossed the last passenger car, and only a few of the beds were pulled down here as well.

“Why don’t we get everyone on the same car?” Wheels turned in Charles’s mind. “Then we only have to heat one, and the wood will last three times as long.”

“That’s a good idea.” The conductor unlocked the door to the baggage car.

The man headed toward the pile of wood in a fenced-off section while Charles looked for his portmanteau. At least the piece of luggage was on the top of the other trunks where he could easily reach it. After donning his other gloves, he closed the bag, then grabbed an armload of wood before he followed the conductor through the back passenger car to the middle one.

“You kin take that wood to the stove at the front of this car. I’ll build up the fire in this ’un.” The conductor wasn’t even trying to be quiet. “Then I’ll start movin’ the others into this here car.”

Charles followed his directions and soon had the fire crackling in the front stove. He headed back down the car toward the section where he, Maggie, and Georgia had been sitting.

Maggie pulled back the curtains on her Pullman and stood beside him. “What’s going on? I thought we were going to eat at this stop.”

“The water tank up ahead sprang a leak. The conductor said the ice flow froze partly on the tracks. Said it looked almost like an ice sculpture.”

The train came to a complete stop.

“I want to go see it.” Excitement tinged Maggie’s tone, and her cheeks glowed.

Charles frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He didn’t want her falling and hurting herself on the slick ground.

She pursed her lips in a little pout. “You could come with me, so you could see that I’m all right.”

“I wasn’t planning on going out into the cold weather again.”

The conductor came through the car, heading toward the front passenger car. “You folks should get warmer pretty soon.”

“Would it be all right if we take the blankets off the empty beds?” Charles followed the man toward the door.

“Sure as shootin’. Now why didn’t I think of that? We can get the ones from all three cars.” When the man opened the door, the wind whistled through until he quickly closed it.

“Did you feel that wind?” Charles stared down at Maggie.

Her still-braided hair hung over one shoulder. “I know it’s cold, but when will we ever see anything like this again?”

How could he turn her down when she gazed at him like that? No wonder her father often gave her what she wanted. The woman had a strong power of persuasion.

“OK. Let’s go.” He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her as if she were a squaw. Maybe that would keep her warm.

Bundled up the way she was, Charles had to lift Maggie down from the train steps. They walked along the track until they could see the modest building up ahead.

Her shoe slipped on a slick cross tie. He put his arm around her waist to help her over a rough place on the ground. The snow was beginning to stick and cover the fallen leaves and brown grass. At least it wasn’t so thick they couldn’t see what was around them. When they reached the tiny platform beside the building, they finally saw the massive ice formation that reached from the ground and tapered a little near the bottom of the wooden water tank. One of the metal bands had popped off when the thing swelled.

“It’s beautiful.” Maggie huddled beside him against the wall. The wide overhang kept much of the snow from reaching them.

“I suppose it is.” Charles wouldn’t have noticed without the eyes of the artist beside him. Maggie never took her gaze from the massive block of ice that had been sculpted by God . . . and the cold wind. “What are you doing?”

“Memorizing how it looks. I’m going to sketch it when we get back on the train.”

“Which we should do as soon as possible.” He was getting really cold, even if she wasn’t.

“I know.” She pulled the blanket closer around her. “I’m so cold.” Her teeth chattered so hard, she barely got the words out.