Chapter Three

Cabot Rail Station

Boston, Massachusetts

Monday, August 3, 1895

Adela handed the porter her small traveling bag and produced her ticket so he would know where to place her luggage. Turning around one last time, she gave Hermonie Dutton a gentle hug.

"Thank you so much for everything you've done for me, and for Isabella, over the years," Adela said solemnly.

"No, my dear, thank you. I couldn't have navigated half of the things I accomplished these past years without your help. Now, go and have yourself a wonderful life."

Adela blew out a long breath. "I still can't believe I'm to be married in less than two weeks."

"I know you were hesitant at first, but being a wife and mother, having your own home to run, will be the adventure of a lifetime," Hermonie suggested.

"Not to mention traveling west and being close to my sister."

"I'm sure she's excited to see you. Will she be attending the wedding?"

"Yes. She's going to be my matron of honor."

The whistle blew, announcing the first boarding. Missus Dutton returned Adela's earlier hug with one of her own, clinging a moment or two longer than necessary. "You should get onboard and claim a seat in the observation car. I hear the scenery once they clear Boston is lovely."

"Have a safe sailing tomorrow. I wish I was staying long enough to see you off."

"Not necessary. My sons have everything under control. Besides, by leaving today, you make better connections along the way and save two days of travel time."

"I suppose," she agreed somewhat half-heartedly. "Two less days to wonder if I'm doing the right thing."

"Mister Wentworth struck me as a very nice man. I'm sure the two of you will be very happy."

A second whistle sounded, and Hermonie nudged Adela on her way.

"Please write when you reach London," Adela reminded her. "I'll write back as soon as I can."

"Don't be interrupting your honeymoon to read my letters, young lady. Those first few weeks are a special time in a marriage."

Adela nodded, too choked up to speak another word. Turning toward the steps leading up to the train, she laid her fingertips in the porter's outstretched hand. It was now, or never. Rather than disappoint the woman who'd been so kind to her for the past dozen years, Adela chose now .

Wednesday, August 5, 1895

"Will that be all, Miss?" the smartly dressed porter asked.

"Yes, thank you so much. I'm full to the gills," Adela joked. It was a phrase Missus Dutton used often when encouraged to eat more than a bite or two of her evening meal.

Adela glanced out the window of the train as they chugged through open fields somewhere between Chicago and Saint Louis. The landscape was lovely, and she relaxed back in the dining chair and sipped at the last dregs of her tea.

Perhaps she'd venture back to the day car and find herself a comfortable seat. Or, better yet, strike up a conversation. Traveling by oneself got tiring after a day or two. She craved a substantive discussion.

Her teacup empty, Adela rose and made her way down the aisle, resting her hand on empty dining chairs to maintain her balance. The next car was nearly full, so she kept going. The second car held mostly families traveling together. Little camps of supplies were set up along the way. Extra blankets, a basket of apples, and a smaller basket of treats for the children when they got restless.

About halfway down the aisle, Adela found an empty space. The seats weren't nearly as luxurious as those in her cabin, yet she chose one that looked to have at least a small modicum of padding remaining beneath the worn leather.

She'd barely seated herself when a small girl of five or six, she suspected, came to stand beside her. Adelea looked up from her journal and smiled.

"Are you lost?" the girl wondered. "I haven't seen you here before."

"Susan! Leave the nice lady alone," a woman scolded.

Adela turned to the sound of her voice. A young mother sat nursing a baby. A small boy of two or three sat at her side. "She's no bother," Adela confirmed. "I was looking for some company, and Miss Susan here fits the bill perfectly." Adela patted the seat directly across from hers. "Will you join me? We can talk about the beautiful scenery outside."

Somewhat hesitantly, little Susan took the offered spot. "Looks like a bunch of wheat to me. Same as what's on my grandpa's farm."

"A farm? How delightful." Pointing to the cornfield just outside the window, Adela explained, "I'm from Boston. We don't have wheat or corn fields in the city."

"What do you have?" Susan asked, with her attention now focused directly on Adela.

"We have tall buildings. Many of them. Some reach almost high enough to touch the clouds. Or, at least, they seem to."

"I'd like to see a tall building one day," the little girl admitted. "All I ever get to see are farms, and flat dirt roads."

"Where are you from?" Adela queried.

Susan glanced at her mother, then said, "Everywhere. We move a lot because of my pa's work."

"Oh, I see. I've always wanted to travel. It sounds as if you've seen a lot more of the country than I have."

"Don't mind her," Susan's mother said. "She's a talker." After setting the baby in the basket at her feet, the woman introduced herself. "I'm Katie Thompson. You've met Susan. This little fellow is Jacob," she added, ruffling the boy's bangs. "And the little bundle, hopefully sound asleep, is William."

"I'm Adela McIntrye. Where are you headed now?"

"Pikesville, Colorado, just north of Denver. My husband has secured a permanent position with the mining company as an inspector."

"That means we can finally have a home of our own," Susan added helpfully. "Instead of living in row houses. And, we never have to move again."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy being in one place," Adela commented. "You can make friends and have a permanent school and place of worship."

"I do miss Sunday School," Susan admitted. "Now that Jacob's old enough, he can go too."

Once Katie was ready to put the two older children down for the night, Adela excused herself and made her way back to her stateroom. The urge to offer her accommodations to Katie and her children was weighing on her thoughts. Yet, she decided against it when she saw how happy they all seemed just to be settling down with something permanent.

When Adela arrived at her stateroom, the bed had already been turned down, and a small tray of sweets sat on the table in the corner. She changed into her nightclothes, unpinned her hair, and gave the wavy locks a good brushing. After washing her face, she climbed beneath the covers and drew a breath. Sleep would come quick enough, she supposed.

Rather than sleep, Adela's thoughts rambled from the here and now, back to the past. She thought about the commitment she was making… marriage to a virtual stranger. Try as she might, she couldn't pull up all of her mother's comments about marriage, and a woman's duty. At twenty-six, she wasn't any more cognizant of the "duties" as she'd been as a young girl.

Perhaps… she should have… bought a book… on the subject.

Saturday, August 8, 1895

Arriving in Denver

Adela stood and stretched. The conductor's shouts of ‘Next stop, Denver' echoed through the train. She'd packed up her valise before breakfast, and donned her traveling suit, rather than the day dress she'd been wearing for most of the trip. Turning to Katie and the children, she offered, "I can help you with getting your things to the platform, if you'd like."

"We'll be fine. The porter is sending someone," Katie explained. "However, I could use some help with the children."

Rather than Susan, it was Jacob who offered Adela his pudgy hand. "Come on, Miss Adela," the boy coaxed. "I can't wait to ride a stagecoach."

"Me either, Jacob. However, my stage doesn't leave until tomorrow, so I'll be spending the night visiting my sister."

"It's so nice that you have family to greet you," Katie remarked. "Our ride leaves in an hour, so we'll be on the road until dusk."

"Yes, I suppose that is going to be tiring. However, once you arrive, your husband will be there to meet the stage, and you'll be a family again."

Once Katie and her children were safely deposited on the platform, and their belongings brought to them on a trolley, Adela made her way into the small station to look for Isabella. It didn't take long to spot her, her glossy blonde hair piled high atop her head, her slender body…

Oops!

When Isabella turned, it was obvious she was carrying another baby. The bulge in her belly was unmistakable.

"Izzy!" Adela shouted. "Over here."

"Adela, sweetheart," her sister called back before weaving her way through the crowd of passengers, some coming, some going.

"You're expecting. Again."

Isabella rolled her big blue eyes. "Yes. It would seem that old wives' tale about not conceiving while you're nursing is just that… a fairytale."

"But the baby's barely six months," Adela reasoned. "How far along are you?"

"Four months, by my reckoning. Mister Hastings… Milton… sought to celebrate his promotion to bank manager on a few occasions. One of them took."

"Oh dear," Adela commiserated. "I wish I were staying here in Denver so I could help."

"Comstock's not that far away, sis. If I need you, I know you'll come running." Linking arms, Isabella hurried them forward. "So, tell me all about Mister Wentworth."

"There's not much to tell really. I barely know him. We met one time, at the holiday party the year you moved away. He seemed nice enough. Properly raised. The Dutton family thinks well of him. We didn't have time to converse by mail before the plans were made, but I trust Missus Dutton's input."

"And you're prepared for married life?" Isabella asked.

"Not as well as I should be, I presume. I have questions. Lots and lots of questions."

The following morning, Adela and Isabella attended church services together before Milton loaded Adela's bags onto the back of his carriage and drove her to the waystation. This was it. She was on her way to Comstock and to her future as a wife and, hopefully someday, mother.

"Write often," Isabella said as they hugged tightly.

"I will write weekly. You do the same. Keep me abreast of how quickly little Milton is growing, and how you're feeling."

Adela accepted the driver's hand into the coach and settled onto the bench seat. The thin leather, and lack of padding, reminded her of the car on the train. Only worse.

"We'll be arriving in Comstock around five o'clock, maybe a tad earlier since there's nobody to stop between here and there," the driver said. "According to the instructions I received from the station manager in Comstock, I'm to deliver you directly to the hotel. Mister Wentworth will meet you there."

"That's perfect. No unloading and reloading of my luggage."

The man gave a cursory glance at the top of the stage, as well as the space inside the coach where two of her cases sat. "True enough, Miss. I don't think anyone would want to load and unload this gaggle of bags more than once."

Adela balanced herself on the coach seat as best she could. The ruts in the road and the constant bouncing of the stage made it next to impossible to sit still. Thankfully, the weather was cooperating with sunshine and a slight breeze.

Although she'd had her fill of strangers during the long train ride, she found herself wishing for some company on this last stretch of her journey. Instead, she got little more than silence broken only by the driver's occasional shouts to his team of horses.

Covering her mouth with her gloved hand, she fought back the urge to yawn before checking the time on her brooch. Half-past four, which meant they had barely thirty minutes to go. No sooner had the thought come when the stage began slowing down.

Eagerly, Adela sat up straight and peered out the window, getting her first glimpse at the town that was to become her home.