The Journey of Josephine Cain (48 page)

Frieda got out of her seat and stood beside them in the aisle. “Did
you two even notice the bridge had washed out back there? That they had to get crews to repair it?”

Josephine smiled at Hudson. “What bridge?”

“Did either of you notice when the train was held hostage in Piedmont until Dr. Durant paid a portion of back wages?”

“What wages?” Hudson said, his eyes only on her.

Frieda sighed and threw her hands in the air. “Carry on.”

Gladly.

The next time the train slowed, it was for the best of reasons. The passengers lined the windows, marveling at the crowd that had already gathered.

But the best view was outside, and so the cars quickly emptied. Looking ahead to the track were the mighty symbols of the dream: two locomotives, a few yards apart, head-to-head like two bulls readying for a final fight.

Yet the fight was over, the battle won.

Dr. Durant left the other passengers behind, rushing to claim his congratulations. He shook hands with a dozen other dignitaries, some from the Central Pacific, and some from his own Union Pacific line.

Josephine had little care for those men. There was only one person she longed to see.

“Josephine!”

“Papa!”

His embrace was full of his usual strength, and yet she could feel more power within his arms and torso. With good reason. He had guided the work crews over 1,086 miles.

“Reginald,” Aunt said, giving him her own embrace. “We are so proud of you.”

He spread his arms. “Me and a few thousand others.”

Then a young man ran toward them. “Hudson!”

“Raleigh!”

Hudson made the introductions, then told his brother, “Josie is my fiancée.”

His only sign of surprise was the raise of an eyebrow. “It’s about time I met you proper,” Raleigh said. “I’ve heard enough about you—starting the first day you two met.”

The family reunion was interrupted when an argument broke out at the base of the two locomotives. Papa listened a minute, then rolled his eyes. “Durant is arguing with Leland Stanford, the head of the Central Pacific, over who’s going to give the first blow to the final spike.”

“Arrogance,” Aunt said.

“Exactly,” Papa said. “But come close. We have been waiting for your train to arrive, so I expect the ceremony will commence rather quickly.”

They—along with hundreds of other dignitaries and workers—moved toward the two facing trains. A few speeches were endured, then two ceremonial spikes were presented: a silver one from Arizona, and a gold one from California.

A telegraph wire was attached to the maul that would set the final spike. “It’s supposed to signal the final blows to both coasts,” Papa explained.

Then Stanford and Durant each swung at the spike, but laughter erupted as the men missed their mark. It seemed appropriate somehow.

Sitting close by, there was a frenzy as a telegraph operator tapped a message, then stood for an announcement. “The wire on the maul didn’t work, but I’ve sent word that we are D-O-N-E!”

The crowd erupted with cheers, and Papa lifted Nelly high into the air. Then the two locomotives—the Central Pacific’s “Jupiter” and the Union Pacific’s “119”—inched toward each other. Engineers from each locomotive stretched forward with bottles of champagne to christen the trains.

Josephine noticed Papa staring at the scene. She found her way under his arm and looked up at him. His eyes were brimming. “You did it,” she whispered.

He nodded. “The country has been forever changed.”

“And linked together.”

“It was President Lincoln’s dream,” he whispered. “I wish . . .”

Josephine leaned her head against his chest and watched the merriment. The mention of the president brought a flood of memories of the night of his assassination. The country had changed on that day too, the
bitter culmination of a horrible Civil War. But now men from North and South, ex-slaves, and new immigrants from China and Europe had left their pasts behind and worked together to achieve this enormous task that defied logic and probability.

As Hudson came to join them, Josephine left her own past behind, and thought of another hopeful future.

“Papa?”

“Yes?”

“Can Hudson and I marry here? Today?”

She looked to Hudson and received his nod. “I agree,” he said. “I can think of no better day than this one.”

Papa smiled. “Nor can I. Let me find a preacher.”

When he walked away, Josephine was faced with the reality of her request. “We are going to be married. Now. Right now.”

Hudson laughed. “You were never one who liked waiting.”

Especially today. Especially when it came to becoming Hudson’s wife.

Josephine didn’t know more than a handful of the people gathered at sunset on the tenth day of May 1869. But even if she had personally invited each one to their wedding ceremony, she would not have been aware of their presence.

Her eyes were on Hudson, and his were on her.

Before the preacher began, she noticed dust on the shoulders of the man’s suit coat and mud underneath his fingernails. But his well-worn Bible was sign enough that he was a man worthy of the task.

“Do you, Josephine Genevieve Cain, take Hudson Lee Maguire to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“I’m not done yet.”

There was a titter of laughter.

“Do you promise to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?”

She hesitated, not wanting to get it wrong again.

“Do you?” he repeated.

“I do!”

The preacher repeated the words for Hudson, who never took his eyes off of his bride. “I do too,” Hudson said.

“What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. And so, I am proud to pronounce you husband and wife.” He nodded to Hudson. “Go ahead, man, kiss your bride.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

When his lips met hers, Josephine heard a cheer go up—or was it an angel chorus? For she felt as though God Himself approved of their union. For He had brought them together. It was the one fact that Josephine would forever embrace.

And then there was one other fact . . .

“I love you,” Hudson said as they walked arm-in-arm through the crowd.

“I love you too.”

This is indeed a great event of the world. It is one of the victories of peace—a victory grander than those of war, which leave in their track desolation, devastation, misery, and woe. It is a triumph of commerce—a triumph indicating free trade as a future law of our nation
.

—T
HE
R
EVEREND
D
R
. V
INTON
, T
RINITY
C
HURCH
, N
EW
Y
ORK
C
ITY
M
AY
10, 1869

Dear readers,

Thank you for coming along on the journey of Josephine Cain. She and I both appreciate your interest.

Even though I hail from Nebraska, I knew very little about the Transcontinental Railroad when I started—and only half of it when I finished. There’s so much to learn and too little time and too many pages to get it all read and included in the book. And I only covered part of the Union Pacific’s story heading west from Omaha, Nebraska. There’s a whole other set of circumstances and stories that belong to the Central Pacific heading east from Sacramento, California.

Many of the events in Josephine’s story actually happened. To name a few: General Cain was inspired by Union Brigadier General Jack Casement, who was hired to run the Union Pacific crews with his brother, Dan. Casement was responsible for inventing the unique bunk cars. The Indian visit where they had a tour and dinner on the train was true. As was the mock war dance and battle at the 100th Meridian celebration; Lewis’s memories of his friend Henry Smith’s execution; the influx of Mormons heading to Utah; the attacks on both sides of the Indian issue; the deaths of nearly two thousand in Wilmington, North Carolina, from Yellow Fever brought back from Bermuda by blockade runners; the lynching of “The Kid” and his outlaw gang in Laramie; as well as the condition of the Dale Creek bridge. And Hudson’s fellow bobbin-boy, Andrew, mentioned in
chapter 21
, was future billionaire and steel magnate Andrew Carnegie, who worked in the Allegheny City cotton mills. Colonel Anderson, the book-lender, was real, and inspired
Carnegie to construct 1,700 public libraries across the country so anyone could have access to books. One act of kindness led to so much good.

I tried to include as many facts as possible, but alas, there were many, many facts I had to leave out (or else you’d be reading a book of a thousand pages or more!). Plus, in order to have a proper romance I had to condense time. The actual time span for the building of the railroad from Omaha was June 1865 to May 1869. Rails were being laid in California as early as December 1863. Fremont and North Platte, Nebraska, were the towns the Union Pacific wintered in the first and second winters, Cheyenne was the spot where they hunkered down during the
third
winter, and they stayed at Evanston, Wyoming (on the Utah border), during the
fourth
winter. Laying 1,086 miles of track took nearly four years. Or should I say,
only
four years considering the hardships and challenges the crews encountered along the way.

How many men worked on the railroad? It’s hard to say, as men came and went. But it is known that Chinese immigrants were the prominent work force on the Central Pacific line heading east, while the major ethnic group working for the Union Pacific were Irish (like Hudson). Add men of every background, character, and ethnicity, and tens of thousands of men worked on the project. Many died along the way.

As for what came next? The following is paraphrased from a PBS timeline of the project: By 1880, the Pacific railroad carried $50 million worth of freight annually. It served as an artery for 200 million acres of settlement between the Mississippi and the Pacific. The Plains Indians were scattered to reservations, and a little over one thousand buffalo remained of the millions that once populated the grasslands. A trip between San Francisco and New York, which once might have occupied six grueling months, only took a few days.

Progress always comes at a high price. That price is what continues to capture my interest in all things historical. Those who came before us left everything they knew to take a chance on the unknown. Would I be so brave? I’m not sure.

If you’d like to do further research, there are many good resources. Here are a few: AMC has a very interesting, frank miniseries called
Hell
on Wheels
that details the life in the transient towns that followed the railroad. Season Three started last August (2013). Eugene Arundel Miller has three books that detail the construction in Nebraska, Wyoming, and Utah, which include ways for you to personally visit the sites along the railroad’s path.
Empire Express
by David Haward Bain has a very detailed account of all sides, and
The Journal of Sean Sullivan
by William Durbin is a fictional diary of one young worker. All the books provide many photographs and illustrations to help bring the history alive.