Time After Time (250 page)

“It does sound exciting. But, I think I’ll take it one trip at a time. St. Louis first, then maybe England, to see Elizabeth.”

• • •

Charles Gray stood, doffed his hat to Ginger, and exited her office. He stopped back at George Fitzpatrick’s office before he left the building.

“You owe me, George,” Charles said quietly.

“You got her to consent to the trip, then?”

“Yes, but it took some work.”

George’s eyes twinkled. “I knew Ginger would never agree to the trip if the suggestion came from me, but coming from one of the bank’s most prestigious clients is a different matter. And you are one of her favorite people.”

“Well, it’s done. And I even think she’s looking forward to the adventure. Before I left her office, I noticed a bit of a sparkle in her eyes.”

George got up from his desk and clamped Charles on the shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Charles. Thank you. Maybe Ginger can find a way to be happy yet.”

Chapter Thirty

St. Louis, November 1855

St. Louis surprised Ginger, with its tall buildings and busy streets. The town had witnessed a rapid expansion during the first half of the 1800s, and was no longer considered just a frontier town, but rather a bustling scene of commerce. She enjoyed the bumpy ride of the omnibus streetcar over the cobblestone road that stretched from the National Hotel to the bustling waterfront, where steamboats were lined up and waiting for patrons, or to be loaded with goods.

Basil told her the town was going to add rails on the city streets for horse-drawn carts to replace the omnibuses, which would result in a smoother ride; he was considering investing some of the bank’s money into the venture. If horse-drawn carts on tracks were to be the future, she was glad she was able to take at least one ride on the omnibus before it faded into history.

Immediately after agreeing to the trip, she had begun a countdown of the days, then the hours and minutes before their departure from New York. When she was alone in her room at home, she fantasized about running into Joseph and falling into his welcoming embrace. She again shed some tears as she acknowledged the life she would never have. She would never be as happy as Elizabeth, and now Quentin, and the dream of having children of her own faded the moment Joseph had fled New York.

She longed to walk on the sidewalks of St. Louis, knowing Joseph had trod on those same boards many times. Even with her trepidations of ever being able to set things to right with Basil, she couldn’t quell her mounting excitement as their departure date neared.

Charles Gray was right. She was far too spirited to sit in her lonely office at the bank, watching life pass by her window, feeling sorry for herself and refusing to partake in any new experiences. Traveling would be an excellent way to fill the voids in her life. She’d roam this vast country and then the world, speaking to women in every station of life about women’s rights, expanding hers and Amelia Bloomer’s cause. It might be a male-dominated world at present, but that would not always be the case, she was certain. Maybe she’d go to England next, and see Elizabeth after she had her baby. Ginger could not wait to see what experiences life would throw at her next. She had been walking in a fog since Joseph galloped out of her life in July. But she now had a renewed outlook and was once again ready to grab life by the horns.

Standing on the platform — even sandwiched between her father and Basil, with Charles Gray in front of them — Ginger was still jostled as hundreds of patrons jockeyed for positions on the train cars, trying to get out of the persistent rain. This was the first time the train would go the entire distance from St. Louis to Jefferson City, and Ginger found herself caught up in the gaiety and frivolity of the crowd. She had been giddy with anticipation about this trip since talking to Mr. Gray, and it was at last here.

Ginger turned her focus back to the festivities taking place on the railroad platform.

“Well, it may have taken four and a half years to lay this 125 miles of track from St. Louis to Jefferson City, but at last, we can celebrate!” St. Louis’s mayor Washington King announced to the milling crowd.

Six hundred invited guests jostled for space on the platform and hundreds of other spectators spilled onto the street below. As the heavy downpour continued, the guests began to board the train and slowly filled the fourteen railcars. Even the rain could not dampen their spirits, as everyone caught the festive nature of this milestone event.

Ginger finally boarded and took a seat on the train, grateful to be out of the rain at last. She deposited her parasol under the seat and smoothed the green-and-brown-striped silk of her skirt. Her many layers of starched petticoats held the wet fabric away from her body. She shook her shawl, removing most of the moisture, and then wrapped the heavy green velvet more closely around her shoulders. Even though it was wet, it provided her some much-needed warmth.

“At least it’s raining, not snowing,” Basil joked as he settled in next to Ginger. “This time of year in St. Louis, it could easily be the heavy white stuff, and at the rate it’s falling, it would amount to a couple of feet. Then none of us would be going anywhere.”

“True enough, Basil,” his father replied. “The cowcatcher on the front of the engine can clear the track somewhat, but it would be no match for two or three feet of snow. We’ll count among our blessings the fact this is just rain.”

“Thank you, Papa, for allowing me to come along for this party. I’m having so much fun,” Ginger chimed in.

George reached for his daughter’s hand. “After what you’ve been through the past couple of months, my sweet girl, I wanted to give you a good memory to remember 1855 by.”

“Well, you’ve most certainly done it. This is a train ride I’ll never forget.”

Ginger watched as her father and Charles Gray took their seats directly across from Ginger and Basil. Then the train with its fourteen cars pulled away from the depot slowly. Ginger glanced out the window at the crowd, which had gathered, despite the weather, to cheer them on their way. She searched the group for the one face that haunted her nightly dreams, but to no avail. She had purposely not asked Basil about Joseph, knowing it would widen the chasm between them. Sighing softly, she bundled up her thoughts of Joseph and put them away, attempting to join in the revelry of the crowd.

The atmosphere inside the train did not match the gloomy, heavy weather outside. People laughed, cheered, and sipped the drinks served to them. A small band had boarded the train, filling the air with lively music and adding to the festivities. The crowd began to sing along to the familiar strains of Stephen Foster’s latest tune, “Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming.”

Basil managed to snag four drinks from the tray of a waiter making his way slowly through the clogged car. He handed flutes of champagne to Ginger, his father, and Mr. Gray, and then raised his own glass in a toast. “Here’s to those of us who were smart enough to invest in the railroad and to be invited along on this inaugural ride.”

Many of those around them cheered and raised their glasses along with Basil. He laughed as most of the car joined in the toast with celebratory champagne. Soon, the mood in the car became even livelier, as the drinks kept flowing. The volume of the crowd grew louder as the drinks lessened restraint. More voices joined the chorus of the songs, although most seemed unaware of the melody they were supposed to be following.

The train slowed or stopped at each little town along the way, to the delight of the locals who had gathered along the route to witness this historic event, which was certain to be talked about for years. Basil pointed out several landmarks on the way as they slowly rolled west of St. Louis.

“I’ve never seen so much open space,” Ginger marveled. “New York, or for that matter, the entire East Coast, is so crowded. Why don’t more people move here and buy up some of this land?”

“Most of what you’re looking at is land the Indians have claim to. The government is systematically forcing them onto reservations so we can civilize the West, but it’ll take time.”

“Ah, of course, the uncivilized Indians ... ” She trailed off and glanced at Basil.

“To answer your unspoken question, no, I have not seen Joseph since my return. During the morning at the cabin in the Hamptons, I asked him never to talk to me again, and he’s honored my request. I hear his father has been awarded the contract to supply horses to the city when the new trolley cars start up, so I know they’re doing well. But Joseph has stayed clear of town, or at least the part I inhabit. For all I know, he may have gone to Canada to join his grandfather and his younger brother.”

“Do you miss him? After all, you two were best friends.”

“I do miss him. We had some grand times together. And I own up to my part in the debacle in New York. But, despite everything, I can’t forgive him for toying with your affections.”

“You make it sound like I had no part in what transpired. We weren’t just playing with each other, Basil. I fell deeply in love with him.”

“But now that you know what his heritage is, surely you’ve come to your senses?”

Ginger sighed as she patted her brother’s hand. “And here I was thinking you had matured since the summer. You’re still a very small-minded man, Basil. For the sake of our family, let’s just agree to disagree on the matter of Joseph’s suitability. Unless you’ve changed your mind, I don’t want to talk about him.”

When Basil didn’t reply, Ginger said, “All right then, let’s put Joseph aside for now. I want to know what would have happened if Annie Schemerhorn had never come up with the idea of a Cotillion and I never would have suffered through the torturous season. You know I was on my way here to help you with the bank. Would you have let me take my rightful place, or would you have continued to be so narrow-minded about a woman working outside the home?”

Basil shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “Ginger, I know you’re very talented at picking companies to support, and you’ve helped the bank’s bottom line tremendously. But, still and all, Father has indulged you, giving you an office at the bank and allowing you to leave the house every day and work alongside him. He even wrote and told me he offered to install you as an officer in the bank. I advised him not to be so foolish, and to recant his offer. Such disgraceful behavior is not to be tolerated in a woman of your station. So, although I would have welcomed a visit from you, I would not have allowed you an office space. It’s my bank, after all.”

Ginger glared at him. “Do you remember what you said when you heard about your actress Rachel’s death? You said you had been a self-centered ass all summer. I think the time of year had nothing to do with it. You’re still a self-centered ass!”

“Let’s not fight today, okay? I will never embrace women’s rights, as you and Amelia Bloomer refer to them. And, I know as long as you think you and Joseph might end up together, there’s no hope for us getting along on that score — we are on totally opposite sides. I regret ever bringing him into our lives. I may be an ass, but you’re a fool if you think you could ever fit into Joseph’s life here. It’s best you forget him and move along.”

Ginger sighed as she turned her gaze back to the scenery. Her eyes filled with unexpected tears, making the rainy countryside even harder to see. She knew Basil was right. He was an ass, and she was a fool.

Chapter Thirty-One

After several hours, the train reached the town of Hermann, seventy-eight miles west of St. Louis. The train stopped while another railcar was connected to it, bringing the total to fifteen. Basil muttered something about wanting to watch the cars be coupled together, left his seat, and wavered down the aisle.

A company of uniformed soldiers and an additional group of musicians joined in the fun of the ride, filling up the final car. Strains of Johann Strauss’s “Radetzky March” filled the air as the band played patriotic tunes in honor of the troops. The commanding officers of the regiment moved through each car, introducing themselves. More champagne was poured and the festive atmosphere expanded. All the while, rain drenched the surrounding countryside, as the torrential downpour continued.

One of the officers, Lieutenant David Whitman, stopped at the car containing the Fitzpatrick family and Charles Gray. He had been told Mr. Gray was one of the primary backers of the Pacific Railroad and special consideration should be given him. But, in truth, he wanted to talk to the fetching young lady who sat by herself a few feet away. He straightened his spine even more than his regular military stance as he strode down the aisle of the railroad car.

“May I join you?” Lt. Whitman asked, hoping for a nod or some gesture from Ginger.

When she smiled up at him, he introduced himself and dropped into Basil’s empty seat. He removed his hat and his dark brown hair curled onto his forehead. His deep blue eyes sparkled as he took in Ginger’s comely shape.

“So, do you have some holdings with the railroad as well, Miss Fitzpatrick?”

Ginger’s glance moved over the fine uniform the tall man was wearing before she replied, “I am a huge supporter of the railroads, yes. I hold some stock in them, and I have been advising Mr. Gray with his portfolio. I think railroads are the key to settling the vast American West.”

David Whitman’s expression revealed his surprise. He had expected a refined East Coast lady, but her intelligence regarding the westward expansion of America was unexpected and welcomed. He grinned at her and made himself comfortable in the seat. He was going to enjoy this ride after all.

“I agree with you. But, until we get the Indian population under control, we won’t be able to claim the land as ours. They are fighting us mightily.”

Ginger bristled. “And why wouldn’t they? This is their land, after all. How can we Europeans just waltz in here and run them off? I’d fight you, too, if I were an Indian!”

David released a small, frustrated sigh. Trying to explain the Indians to an Easterner was like trying to advance the cause of slavery to a Northerner.