Disclaimer: I do not own the ideas of twilight or the Canadian West Series.
Chapter One: On the Way
I fidgeted on the worn leather of the train seat, willing my nerves to quit jumping and my heart to quit its thunderous beating. I would soon be arriving in Calgary. The very name with its unfamiliar ring made my pulse race.
I would soon be seeing my brother Jonathan. My memories were vaguely outlined in the shadowy figure of a tall, gangly youth with a strong will of his own. I would also be meeting his wife, Mary, whom he declared to be the sweetest and most beautiful woman on the face of the earth.
And I would be introduced to four little children…one nephew and three nieces. I was prepared for them, having purchased sweets at our last stop. Children were so easy to win, but would my brother and my sister-in-law be pleased with me? Was I ready to step out of the relative safety of the train into a strange new world?
I remembered how this whole thing started and I wondered if I made the right decision in starting this new life's journey, instead of relishing the comfort of a known world.
When my mother announced that she received a letter from Jonathan, there was excitement in her eyes.
Jonathan was still special to Mother. Being her firstborn and only child from her first marriage, he was also her first love in many ways. Sister Julie had on occasion suggested that Mother loved Jonathan more than the rest of us. I tried to convince Julie that Mother did not love him more… just differently.
I often thought how difficult it must have been for her to give him up, to let him go. Jonathan had been just nineteen when he decided that he must go west. I was only four years old at the time and too young to really understand it all, but I had been aware after he left that something was different about our home, about Mother, though she tried hard not to let it affect the rest of us
Three months after Jonathan left, baby Matthew had arrived, and mother's world had taken on new meaning. Yet not even Matt had taken Jonathan's place in her heart.
So when I saw how elated she was after her statement of Jonathan's letter, I was not very surprised. She told me small things, like how their family is doing, how Mary is due soon now, and how Jonathan's lumber business is growing. But the spark in her eyes told me there was more.
The train slowed to a stop which pulled me from my reverie. I knew that we weren't in Calgary yet, so I pulled out Jonathan's letter that Mother allowed me to take along and smoothed it out.
I skipped to the part that involved me and read it slowly to myself, for the hundredth time.
"There is no end to opportunities here in the West. I know several men who came out with nothing and who now have great homes and flourishing businesses. All that one needs is determination, stamina, and a bit of horse sense.
"I have given a great deal of thought to my family lately. It would be so good to have one of my own here. I miss you all so much. Especially you, Mother, but you knew that.
"It's easy to think of the West as a man's land, and so it is; but there are plenty of opportunities for women as well. And I might add that we in the West realize that if we are to grow strong, we need fine young women to make homes for our men and ensure proper families for our future.
"So I thought of Elizabeth."
I flushed as I remembered my reaction to his words the first time Mother read them to me. Was he suggesting that I go bargain-hunting for some western shopkeeper or backwoods rancher for a husband? Not me! I felt that I would rather die first.
I looked around me to make sure no one had seen the blood rush to my cheeks before returning to the letter.
"Teachers are sorely needed here. Many mothers in country areas still must tutor their children. But these women have little time or no training. We are anxious to change all of that. We want our next generations to be well educated, because in the future, we hope to pick the leaders of our new province from among our own.
"You say that Elizabeth is a fine teacher and a sensible young woman…and I am sure that she is. I talked today with a school superintendent whom I know. He is short of teachers, and some of those that he does have, he would replace if he could.
"He says that if Elizabeth is willing to come west, he would gratefully give her a position, and, as I said before, it would be so good to have someone from my family here."
The rest of the letter was for Mother's eyes so I refolded the parchment and tucked it away.
I remembered the emotions that played through my mind when Mother stopped reading the letter. First I felt sorry and hoped Mother wouldn't be too hard on Jonathan when she replied to the letter.
But when she looked at me expectantly, waiting for my opinion, I was shocked. Did she want me to go?
But then I realized what it was really about. I was to be Mother's love-offering to Jonathan, his "piece-of-the-family" presented to him over the miles. Somehow my going west to be with him would bring comfort to my mother's heart.
I knew how much it meant to her and I couldn't disappoint her. I loved her too much. So I put on my sweetest smile and told her I'd try it out. I did make it perfectly clear to everyone, however, that I was going strictly to be with Jonathan and to teach the children. I was not going to make a fool of myself and "make a good home" or "ensure proper families" by getting married. I had a plan to shun all the men who looked interested.
My four slow-moving days on the Pacific Western, spent sitting stiffly in cramped train seats, and even slower passing nights, had been gradually preparing me. I finally had been able to overcome my intense homesickness. The first three days I had missed my family to such an extent that I feared I might become ill. Gradually the ache had left, and in its place there now seemed to be only a hollow.
As the pain had left me, I had been able to find some interest in the landscape, which seemed amazingly different from what I was accustomed. Jonathan had tried to describe the land to me in his letters, but I had not visualized the emptiness, the barrenness, the vastness of it all.
As I gazed out the train window, it seemed that we traveled on forever. Seeing hardly any people. Occasionally we did pass small herds of animals…antelope, deer, and even a few buffalo, roving slowly across the prairie, and delaying the train once in a while as they lazily crossed the iron tracks.
I had expected to see Indian teepees scattered all across the countryside. But in fact, I saw very few Indians at all, and they were almost all in the small towns that we passed through, looking very "civilized" indeed.
I saw no braves painted for the warpath. Most Indian people moved quietly along the streets, concerned only with their own trading activities.
Now we were nearing the frontier town of Calgary, the home of my brother Jonathan and many other adventuresome persons. What would it be like? Would it be at all modern?
After I had made my decision to go, Julie had read all she could find about the West. Where she discovered all of her information, I never did learn; but at any hour of the day of night that she could corner me, she would announce new "facts" she had gathered.
According to her, the West was full of reckless, daring men, so eager for a wife that they often stole one. (I wasn't sure that she disapproved. She had a very flirty, outgoing personality.)
Julie painted word pictures of cowboys, voyageurs, miners and lumbermen…all roaming the dusty streets in their travel-stained leather and fur, looking for excitement, women wealth, and danger, though not necessarily in that order.
And Indians, everywhere Indians. Though most were rather peaceable now, she was sure they still wouldn't hesitate to take a scalp if the opportunity existed. This irrepressible sister of mine had even dared to whisper that perhaps I should bob my hair so none of them would be overly tempted by my heavy mass of waves. She warned me that they might find my dark gold curls with their red highlights irresistible.
"My scalp, complete with its hair, is quite safe from the Indians," I had assured Julie, but I will admit that she made ma shiver a few times. She had nodded solemnly and informed me that I was probably right and it was all due to the fortunate fact that the West now had the North West Mounded Police.
According to Julie, they were the West's knights in red-serge armor, and Calgary abounded with them. Should the need ever arise, a lady had only to call, and Red Coats would come running. Judging from the sparkle in Julie's eye as she described the scene, I would have expected her to avail herself of their services quite regularly.
Julie had also claimed that Calgary was a land of perpetual blizzard. It stopped snowing only long enough to allow an occasional "chinook" to blow through, and then the cold and neck-deep snow would again take over.
Calgary was now only minutes away, according to the conductor and on this august afternoon, with the hot sun beating down unmercifully upon the stuffy coach, I realized that Julie had been wrong at least on this one point…unless, of course this was just one of those chinooks. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if Julie may have been mistaken about some other "facts" as well. I would soon see. In my impatience, I stood up to pace the floor.
There really wasn't much room for walking, and I got the impression that my stalking back and forth in the narrow aisle was irritating to some of the other passengers. I smiled my sweetest smile at those nearest to me. "After sitting so long, I simply must work some of the knots out of my muscles before we reach Calgary," I explained. I hoped that they didn't realize it was in reality nerves rather than stiffness that drove me from my seat.
I walked to the end of the aisle and was nearly hit by the door when it swung open before the returning conductor. He looked at me with a startled expression and then got on with his job which was at this point to call out in a booming voice, "Calgary! Calgary!" He passed through the car and into the next, still calling.
A bustle of activity followed in his wake as people gathered their belongings, said good-byes to new acquaintances, donned jackets or shawls, and put on bonnets or hats that had been laid aside. I used the reflection from the window glass to adjust my new green bonnet.
The train blew a long, low whistle. One could almost feel exhausted thinking of the amount of steam necessary to produce such a sound. Then the clickity-clack of the wheels began to slow down till I was sure that if one would choose to concentrate on the task, each revolution could be counted.
We were now traveling past some buildings. They appeared rather new and were scattered some distance apart. Most were constructed of wood rather than the brick or masonry which I was used to back home. A few of the newest ones were made up of sandstone. The streets were not cobblestoned, but dusty and busy.
Men and, thankfully, some women too, hurried back and forth with great purpose. The train jerked to a stop with a big hiss from within its iron innards like a giant sigh that the long journey was finally over. I sighed too as I stood and gathered my things from the seat where I had piled them neatly together.
Working my way toward the door, half-step by half-step in the slow-moving line of fellow passengers, I couldn't keep my eyes from the windows. It was all so new, so different. I was relieved to spot many men in business suits among the waiting crowd. It was a comfort of sorts to realize that the men of the West were not all rough-and-ready adventurers.
And then through the crowd, seeming head and shoulders above all others, I noticed to men in red tunics and broad brimmed Stetsons. Julie's Mounties! I smiled to myself at the thought of her excitement if she were here! Even their walk seemed to denote purposefulness, and though people nodded greetings to them, the crowd seemed to automatically part before them out of respect.
I bent down a bit so that I could get a better view of them through the window. I was immediately bumped from behind by a package tucked beneath the arm of a rough-looking man with a cigar in his mouth. I flushed and straightened quickly, not daring to meet his eyes.
When it was finally my turn, I carefully stepped down, grateful for the assistance of the conductor with all my parcels and a small suitcase. When I had negotiated the steps, I looked up into the smiling eyes of an almost stranger…yet somehow I knew instantly that it was Jonathan.
Without a moment's hesitation, I dropped what I was carrying and threw my arms around his neck.
A/N: thanks for reading the first chapter.
Reviews are better than the North West Mounted Police with their red-serge armor and all