Olive rubbed her arms softly and lifted her hand to shield a yawn. It would be only a few hours until she was in Nevada. There was a small town there that would be Olive’s new home. At 23, she was ready for a change. Her large family left behind; she looked forward to a more solitary lifestyle, with just a husband until she would perhaps have a child. No more hustle and bustle. No more noise, talking, clamoring, complaining.
She wouldn’t miss it.
As the train traveled further toward the West, she began to feel much warmer. She didn’t need her gloves and stripped them off. Soon, her shawl and bonnet also came off. She was wearing several layers under her outer dress, and she was beginning to regret it.
She was anxious to get there. When it was announced they would arrive at her Nevada station in 20 minutes, she pulled the envelope and letter from her pocket and read through it. The man who had sent her a ticket to come across the country and be his bride sounded like a professional but someone who also had compassion. He was a carpenter – a very successful one from the sound of it. He sounded charming from the letter. She was nervous and excited about the prospect of leaving her big family to be somewhere completely new and different.
Olive was hoping this man that she was meeting, Henry, did not want to have a lot of children. She’d been afraid to broach the subject because she was afraid he wouldn’t allow her to come if she revealed that she wasn’t interested in a brood of babies running around. She’d watched her own mother give birth too many times and wasn’t interested in the prospect at all.
There were only a few minutes left before the train would reach the station. She was warm now, very warm.
It was late spring of her 23rd year, pushing into summertime and she already missed the colors and vibrancy of Virginia. This place she was going to looked dry and dusty. It looked bleak and miserable. She had a feeling the people would look just as bleak and miserable once she actually stepped off the train.
She discovered she was right as soon as she placed a foot on the long wooden planks that made up the platform between the train and the building. She was ashamed that her hair and face were wet with sweat and patted herself with a handkerchief again and again. It didn’t seem to make much of a difference. The moment she pulled the cloth away, she felt the drips rise again.
Olive wondered if it was possible that the inside of the building was cooler. She hoped so. She picked up her carrying bag and her sewing box and went to the door. A man standing next to it, leaning against the wall, stepped in front of her and pushed open the door, allowing her to go through. She lowered her head, looking up with only her eyes and nodding. “Thank you, sir,” she said in a low voice.
“You’re welcome, miss.”
As soon as she went in the building, she could see that she was the only woman in the place. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Men were milling all around, talking, walking through, carrying boxes and other items.
She looked all around the room. Thankfully, the huge stone fireplace deep inside one of the walls was not lit and looked like it hadn’t been for quite a while. She moved to a bench and sat down, smoothing her skirts out in front of her and wishing she could take them off and wear pants like the men all around her. Even if she could just be wearing one skirt, it would be cooler than the layers she had on. She sighed heavily.
None of the men in the place looked like they were going to take notice of her. She didn’t know what Henry looked like, but she assumed since she was the only woman here, he should be able to find her easily.
She looked around again and wondered if Henry would look for her outside, see that she wasn’t out there waiting for him and leave. There could be little chance of that unless he were a complete simpleton to think she would stand out there in that heat watching for someone she wouldn’t recognize.
She sighed again and glanced at each of the men in her line of sight to see if any of them showed any interest in the only woman sitting in the room. They were watching her. They were looking at her. But they weren’t showing the kind of interest she was looking for. They looked curious. There was no real intention behind their glances. They were just as much in the dark who she was as she was them.
The hour ticked by, then another. Olive had taken to shaking her head and wondering what was going on. The sun was going down rapidly. Soon it would be pitch dark. She wasn’t sure the place would be open much longer.
She stood up and went to the clerk’s window. He was looking down at a list of names and destinations, running his finger down one at a time. He looked up when she cleared her throat.
His face was immediately surprised, and he raised his eyebrows. “May I help you, miss?”
“It looks like my ride forgot about me,” Olive said, her voice coming out smooth and soft. “I don’t know what to do.”