Faith of the Heart

1

CHAPTER ONE

Train to Omaha

Somewhere in Iowa,
April 1868

             
Claire glanced up from her needlework as the train jerked to a stop. Sighing deeply, she jabbed the needle into the muslin piece
she was working on
and returned the sampler to her small satchel. She peered through the sooty window
,
wondering what dismal town she was in now.

A woman
loaded down with suitcases and hatboxes,
struggled down the narrow aisle
,
a cranky child clinging to her skirts.
Claire offered assistance
,
but the woman just glared at her
,
mumbl
ing
she’d manage just fine. Shrugging, Claire glanced back to the window but dusk had fallen and she could only
see her own unkempt reflection.

             
Three days. Three days she’d been on this dirty, noisy, smelly,
train.
She shivered
,
pulling her wrap closer as she leaned back on the dusty blue padded seat
,
avoiding the spot on the floor where some unmannerly gentleman had spit in her direction
earl
ier that afternoon.
But tomorrow
¼
tomorrow she’d be in Omaha, Nebraska. Tomorrow she’d be safe in her
A
unt Gin’s arms and starting a new life. A life she fervently hoped would be better than the one she had just left.

             
Leaning back, the young woman closed her eyes and thought
over the last few days. The quiet, predictable life she’d been living had disappeared with the arrival of that momentous telegram.

             
             
             
             
  
Earlier that Week

             
             
             
             
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

             
“Miss Secord, Miss Secord! A telegram has arrived for you
!
”

  
             
Claire
jumped
up from the paper she’d been correcting. A jolt of fear coursed through her body. A telegram only meant bad news. Thanking the elderly housekeeper, she hastily tore open the brown Western Union envelope.

             
Claire.
Richard dead.
Heart gave out.
Need you in Omaha
.
Come soon.
Virginia Weikert.

             
Stunned,
Claire read and reread the telegram. Aunt Gin and Uncle Richard ran a small mercantile store in the frontier town of Omaha. Located in the raw new state of Nebraska, Omaha had a reputation as a rough and rowdy jumping off point to the west. The Union Pacific Railroad had just laid down lines through the area on its race to the west coast, meeting up with
the Central Pacific Railroad.

             
Gin’s store provided supplies for townspeople and the wagon trains that rumbled through every spring and summer. The business would be too much for one elderly woman to handle. She needed Claire.

             
Jumping to her feet, the
half-corrected
grammar test forgotten, Claire ran up the back staircase to her tiny attic room. Yanking open the bureau drawers, she began tossing her clothing onto the narrow bed.
Gin needs me, she needs me!

             
A knock on the door startled her and she whirled around
, clutching her hand to her chest.

“Come in
,
”
Claire
called in a shaky voice,
smoothing her dress.

Mrs.
Buckley
, the mistress of the house, sto
rmed
in
,
an exasperated look on her pudgy face.
She stomped a pointy-toed shoe on the worn rug and shook her finger at Claire.

             
“My dear Miss Secord! Whatever is going on? Just look at this room. Have you completely lost your mind?”

             
Claire pulled the telegram from her skirt pocket and handed it to her employer. “
Mrs.
Buckley
, it’s my aunt. She’s just been widowed and she needs me. I must go to her
.
”

             
“What,
leave Gettysburg for Omaha? You’re just a
girl;
you can’t survive in that wild place.
” She flung the telegram onto the floor
without even reading it
and snorted.

             
“Don’t be
ridiculous
!
Besides you have a position here. You are my children’s tutor and I insist you stay. You owe it to me. After all, who took you in when you had no place else to go? Now you want to throw this all away, run off to
who knows where with cowboys and outlaws running around, just waiting to take advantage of young single girls who get the notion to travel west in their heads?
I forbid you!”

             
The matronly woman glared at Claire and placed her hands on her ample hips
,
daring Claire to
defy this logic.
        
             

             
Claire took a deep breath, checked her temper and spoke slowly. “Mrs.
Buckley
, you must know I appreciate how you took me in when my folks were killed during the war
,
but I have earned my keep teaching your children. I have done my best and the boy
s
             

have accomplished a great deal. They have mastered the fundamentals and are
prepared
to work in your husband’s business
or any other respectable trade.
I am no longer a girl. I am 21 years
old
and
perfectly
able to care for myself as well as my dear aunt.”

             
Mrs.
Buckley
took a long look at the determined young woman in front of her. For perhaps the first time, she saw her not as a plain, serious tutor, but
as
the lovely woman she’d become. Claire stood
as tall as her
5’5”
frame would allow
, with shiny br
own
hair wrapped neatly in a coil at the back of her neck. Her dark green eyes shone with determination and her fists were clenched at her side. Even in her modest navy dress, a curvy, female form was evident.

             
Mrs.
Buckley
glared at the girl and retorted, “You may be 21 but you’ll find that you’re still a long way from being an adult. Why
,
when I was your age I’d been married to Mr.
Buckley
for four years and given him two sons.
You,
you have been sheltered and protected
for
your entire life.
T
hese past few years I’ve provided you with this lovely room and a generous salary to boot. I should have just left you in the cold, but being the God-fearing woman I am
,
I took you under my wing and shared my home with you.” She raised her pug nose and sniffed righteously.

Claire stared at her in astonishment.
             
             
             
             
Lovely room and generous salary
?
She’s got to be kidding. If not for my mother’s quilt I’d have frozen to death
in winte
r,
and I was nearly broiled here in the summer. The mattress is lumpy, the rug is in tatters
,
and the room’s only comforts are the items I made myself from the scraps of my craft basket.

             
“Mrs.
Buckley
,” Claire started firmly
,
“Y
ou hired me to teach your sons. I did that. I’ve helped with the housework and cooking and the vegetable garden.
It’s time for me to start my own life. A life like you did with Mr.
Buckley
. I deserve to find my own way. Perhaps that way is in Nebraska with my dear aunt. Surely you understand the
right
thing to do would be to go to her side.
”

             
She could sense Mrs.
Buckley
begin to reconsider. Claire pressed on.

             
“Besides, just think of the money you could save by
letting me go.
Not only would you no longer have to pay my salary
,
but there’d be one less mouth to feed. Your sons no longer require my
tutelage
. You have done your Christian duty
.” She paused as she saw the woman’s expression soften.
Mrs. Buckley let out a long sigh of resignation.
  

 
  
             
“My dear, I’ve underestimated you. If your mind is made up, I guess I can’t stop you. When shall you be leaving us?”

             
“Just as soon as I am able to purchase a train ticket and send a message to my aunt.”

             
“Very well. I shall notify Mr.
Buckley
and arrange for your final paycheck.” With that the woman strode out of the room
,
shutting the door firmly behind her.

     Claire sat down on the ladder
-
back chair and laughed.

The nerve of that woman, insisting I owe her. I’ve
racked
my
brains
trying to teach those unruly boys. I’ve spent hours grading their papers, trying to raise them to be considerate and intelligent young men. I’ve spent too many years in this tiny room dreaming of what my life should have been, could have been. If only that darn war hadn’t taken my Caleb away.
Then I might be teaching my own boys, or…
Oh
Caleb
what happened to you?

             
Rousing herself
and shaking her head to clear her thoughts,
Claire began
to sort
through her belongings. She knew that she’d need to pack carefully because she was never coming back to Gettysburg, and who really knew what it was like in Omaha? Suddenly she didn’t feel
quite so
brave. It was safe here and while her life wa
s predictable, it wasn’t so bad.
But s
he couldn’t allow herself to think that way
.
Gin needed her, and truth be told
,
she
needed Gin. It was time to start
living again. Caleb was only a memory. The War Between the States had claimed him and there was no changing that. After three long years of hearing nothing,
she had to admit that
he must be dead. Her
fiancé
would have come back to her if he could.
Though a small part of her still held hope that he was somewhere far away, trying as hard as he could to return to her, she knew a
rebel bullet must have found him.
And for Claire,
h
aving a family, even just an aunt, would be better than living in someone else’s house
, in someone else’s life.

             
Rummaging in the back of the wardrobe, Claire extracted her old leather
trunk
. She then surveyed the small pile of clothing and belongings spread on the bed
next to
her mother’s quilt, one of her only prized possessions.

My goodness
, she thought,
I never realized how little I really own
.

She lifted the lid of the old trunk and caught a wisp of lavender. The trunk had belonged to her mother and mother had always used lavender sachets to scent her home. Smiling sadly
,
Claire tucked her belongings into the trunk, carefully placing the large family bible on top. Not only did it
contain all the doctrine she held so dear
,
but the family
history as well. Births and deaths were recorded neatly inside the front and back covers. Her parents might have passed on
,
but she had
record
of their existence and she cherished the Secord heirloom.