The Reluctant Debutante (22 page)

Shrieks of pain mixed with breaking glass as other survivors worked to free themselves from the wreckage. The soldiers from the last car — the only one still remaining on the track — came streaming down the embankment to carry the dead and wounded to the river’s bank. Ginger helped passengers from her car to the edge of the river. Her father was one of the last to leave the water, having helped everyone else from their car first, and she embraced him.

“We need to get your arm in a splint, Papa.”

“Yes, I’m pretty bad off but I’ll live, unlike some of the others.”

Together they surveyed the wreckage, as the full enormity of the disaster began to sink in. The railroad cars that, mere minutes before, had been rolling onto the bridge now lay on the floor of the riverbed, covered by heavy wooden timbers from the bridge structure. Under the piles of rubble, people screamed for help. Somewhere in the mess were Basil and Charles Gray.

Ginger allowed herself to shed some tears, which went unnoticed as the unrelenting rain pelted her. She led her father to the bank of the river. Her hair, which had been so carefully coiffed just this morning, now fell around her face in a muddy, sodden mess. Shoving it back from her eyes, she searched the riverbank for a few sticks.

“Here, Papa, sit. I’m going to fix you up.” She lifted her skirt and yanked on one of her petticoats, ripping it into strips, and fashioned a splint for her father’s arm.

George stifled a scream of pain as she repositioned the broken bone, placed a stick of wood on each side of his arm, and wrapped it all together into a crude splint. His face took on an ashen sheen as he sat on the bank, with rain pelting him.

“I know that was painful, Papa. Your face is so pale.” She brushed her hand over his forehead, wiping off the beads of sweat.

“I’ll be all right now, Daughter, thank you. Go look for Basil and Mr. Gray. They were in one of the front cars that plunged headlong into the river.”

“The lieutenant is trying to get to them, Papa. His men are working to free everyone else. He’s sending the people to me, as they get clear of the wreckage, so I can take care of their wounds. He will find them.”

She tried to put on a brave face in front of her father as she surveyed the damage to the cars that had tumbled from the bridge. They were twisted and distorted, crunched together as if thrown into a blacksmith’s hot furnace. Ginger doubted the outcome would be good for either her brother or her father’s best friend.

She ran from one dazed person to another as they came to shore, and ripped apart petticoats to use as bandages. Soon, pieces of her expensive undergarments adorned the heads, arms, and legs of the injured, who sat or lay on the bank of the river, moaning in pain or staring blankly in shock and horror.

One of the soldiers handed her a young boy, and she laid him on the slimy muck beside the river. His eyes were glazed in shock. Ginger ran her hands lightly down the boy’s frame, checking for fractures. He winced when she touched his ribcage.

“Does your stomach hurt?”

The boy nodded. “Where’s my mother?”

“Were you together?”

The boy again nodded. “I tried to wake her up, but her eyes were closed and she wouldn’t open them. Will you try to find her?”

“As soon as I take care of you. What’s your name?”

“Daniel.” He closed his eyes as a wave of pain overtook his little body.

“Well, Daniel. I’ll get your cuts bandaged up and you’ll be good as new. The soldiers will work on getting your mother to shore.”

Ginger could guess Daniel’s mother was one of the lifeless bodies being laid out on the riverbank, but she could not bring herself to tell this small boy he had lost her. He was in a bad way himself. She guessed he had internal injuries of some kind, and all the bandages in the world weren’t going to help him.

“You know, Daniel, I have a little sister who’s about your age. She likes to play with dolls. What toys do you like?” She hoped her idle talk would take the boy’s mind from his pain.

Daniel tried to follow her gentle conversation and answered, “I like trains.” He grimaced again as the pain rolled over him. His eyes opened suddenly and he looked to the skies, which still pelted rain on his small body. “Mama, wait for me,” he cried out and raised his hand in the air. “I’m coming.”

Ginger wrapped his little hand in hers. “Your mama has you now, Daniel.”

She watched as the light in his eyes faded to nothingness. Gulping back her tears as she put her hand over his face, she closed his eyes and shielded them momentarily from the relentless rain. She kissed his wet cheek.

All afternoon, the rain continued to lash them. The air was filled with the sounds of soldiers barking out orders, mixed with the cries of the injured, and the heart-wrenching sobs of the living whose loved ones had perished in the wreck.

Joseph watched as the horse and rider raced through the torrential rain toward the ranch house, as if they were being chased by a band of soldiers. He suspected the rider was bringing bad news. As the horse drew closer, he recognized his brother, Raoul, who had been in Canada with his grandfather, learning the ways of the Ojibwa. Joseph was surprised to see him.

Raoul tugged on the horse’s reins and stopped, then slid off its bare back, landing near Joseph. Raoul clamped his brother on the shoulder, and blurted out, “I am not too late, then. You are still here.”

Joseph placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, too, in a manly hug.

“Too late for what? Is Grandfather all right? You have ridden your horse hard. It is not like you to ride an animal to the point of exhaustion.”

“Do you know a white woman from the East?”

Joseph flinched at the words. His brother was studying to become the tribe’s shaman. He had a gift for seeing into the future, and was trying to harness his God-given talent to help his people navigate in this changing world.

“Let us go inside. You must be hungry,” Joseph said. “Then you can tell me of your vision.” He called to their brother. “Gaston, would you tend to Raoul’s horse?”

Raoul accompanied Joseph inside, where he was greeted by his mother and youngest brother, Etienne. As Mary Tall Feather hurried to gather some food for her sons, Joseph sat quietly, waiting. A sense of dread coiled in his insides. He knew Raoul’s vision must have been strong for him to leave Canada and hurry home. Finally, he could wait no longer.

“Mother, please leave us. Raoul has had a vision and he needs to tell me about it. He will visit with you later.”

After their mother and Etienne left the room, Raoul asked, “So you know this white woman of my vision?”

“Does this woman of which you speak have a small build and brown hair?”

“Yes, except when the sun catches it, then it has a flash of red.”

A cold chill ran through Joseph’s body, making him shudder. “Yes, I know this woman.”

“She is in grave danger.”

“Where is she, Raoul?”

“She is riding on one of those steel buggies.”

“A train? Are you certain?”

Raoul lifted an eyebrow at his brother. “When have my visions ever been wrong?”

“True enough. But there are train tracks over half of America now, and more are being laid every day, to the West.”

“She is with three men, one as young as she is. All of them are injured.”

Even though Joseph had honored Basil’s request to never see or talk to him again, he was aware of Basil’s movements throughout the city. He knew about the Pacific Railroad’s celebratory ride and that Basil’s father, George Fitzpatrick, and Charles Gray were going to be on that train. Had Ginger decided at the last minute to join them?

“Tell me of the scene.”

“It was dark, with much rain. I saw a wide river, and then heard the crack of timbers and the screech of iron against iron as a bridge collapsed. The steel buggy fell into the river below, like it was a toy.”

“The bridge over the wide river is on the Gasconade. It is the route the Pacific Railroad is taking right now.” Joseph stood up, as his insides turned icy cold. “Come, Raoul, let us gather our brothers and some equipment. I fear something terrible has happened aboard the train. We must go to her.”

Although they assembled what they needed quickly, Joseph felt as if centuries had passed before they were on the road to town. Soon they were joined by others who had just gotten word of the disaster. Soldiers had ridden into town with the news, and men were gathering at the railroad platform. One of them called out as the Lafontaine brothers appeared.

“It’s good you’ve come to town, boys. We were just about to send someone out to your ranch to get you to join us. You’ve saved us some valuable time, and we can use all the extra time we can get. We need your strength to help free the passengers from the train. Climb aboard.”

They all boarded a waiting train and headed out on the same rails the celebratory train had taken, toward the catastrophe awaiting them. Raoul and Joseph sat together on the train.

Raoul asked his older brother, “How do you know this woman?”

“She is Basil Fitzpatrick’s sister. We met last summer when I went to New York with him.”

“And this woman? She is your woman?”

“Yes.”

“You lust for a white woman?” Raoul’s lip curled in disgust.

“I have no choice in the matter. You are not the only one who has dreams foretelling the future, my little brother. I dreamt of her many years ago, and asked Grandfather what it meant. He told me it was not yet time for the dream to be revealed, and I would know when it happened. She is the woman from my dreams, and I knew it the moment I first saw her.”

Raoul dropped his gaze. “Grandfather must have made the connection. This woman from my dream was the same one as from yours. When I told him of my vision, he said I must ride as fast as I could on the back of the wind to tell you of my dream.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Raoul asked, “What happened in New York? Why did you leave her there?”

“It is of no consequence. She is here now. I only hope it is not too late.”

Soldiers fanned out in either direction, hurrying to the closest farms with news of the train wreck. The farmers dropped their work and came to the aid of the victims. They offered up the shanties close to the river’s bank as temporary shelters for the victims. These rough shacks normally stored the harvest, which was then carried downstream to market, but they now became crude solace from the storm. The soldiers carried the most severely injured persons to these shelters. Women went with them, to perform what rudimentary nursing techniques they could. The dead resembled cordwood as they were laid out beside the river. Nothing more could be done for them. Their families, crying in the rain, kept vigil over their bodies.

Late in the day, one of the large hotels in Hermann, the closest town to the tragedy, offered its facility as a temporary hospital. The offer was gratefully accepted, and, using carts, the soldiers and farmers began moving some of the most severely wounded away from the disaster site. Those who were able to walk began the trek back to Hermann on foot.

Ginger was still at the water’s edge, helping care for the victims once they were freed from the wreckage. She thought this day, and the barrage of wounded people, would never come to an end. David and his men worked as efficiently as they could to free the many people trapped beneath the rubble of the bridge, but progress was slow without the proper equipment. Ginger and the people who were only slightly wounded helped the others make it to shore. They bound wounds, set splints for the broken appendages, and comforted those who had lost loved ones.

As tired as she was, Ginger was reluctant to have evening come. Neither Basil nor Mr. Gray had been rescued yet. Blood covered her clothing, as she had spent the afternoon stripping off one petticoat after another to bind the wounds of her fellow passengers. Her petticoats were gone now, and she was tearing strips from her beautiful dress when someone shouted, “Here come the men from St. Louis to help us! Thank the Lord.”

She glanced up from the woman she had been bandaging to see a group of thirty or so men streaming over the embankment, carrying axes. Ropes coiled around their bodies. For the second time that day, tears joined the rainwater on her face as she watched these men come to their aid. However, this time her tears were not of sadness, but of joy, as she made out the person leading the charge.

Joseph ran toward her, and swooped her up into his arms. He kissed her with all the ferocity and longing the five intervening months had built up in him. Finally he set her down. He took a step back and drank in the sight of her, running his hands over the lovely face that haunted his nightly dreams, brushing away the wet hair falling into her eyes.

“I knew you would be here. I was aware that Basil and your father were onboard the train, but not until my brother told me of his vision did I realize you were with them — and in danger.” His eyes traveled down her body seeing the blood covering her from head to toe. “Where are you injured? We need to get you to the hospital!”

She placed her hands on each side of his face, and kissed him again. “I’m fine. I only suffered a few bruises. I’ve been helping the others, patching them up as best I can. Papa’s on his way to the hospital in Hermann with a broken arm. But you must help us find Basil and Mr. Gray. They were in one of the front cars, and the soldiers have yet to locate all of those people.”

“We are here to rescue them.” He turned to leave her side, and then swiveled back and put his arms around her. “I knew we would meet again,
ma petite
. I am glad you are safe.”

She had fashioned a hairband out of a piece of her petticoat to hold her disheveled locks out of her eyes, but some had escaped. With no remaining petticoats, her dress hung limply at her sides. She smiled up at him, running her hands down her soiled dress. “I must look a fright.”

He gently brushed the stray hair away from her face. “No, I have never seen a more beautiful sight in my life. You look almost like an Indian with your headband.”