Free The Journey of Josephine Cain by Nancy Moser Page B

discourse, his brow stern. The translator said, “If you don’t give us what we want, we will come at night with three thousand warriors and clean you out.”
    The general’s chest heaved and Hudson held his breath. “Tell Spotted Tail exactly what I say.” Then he put his doubled fist against Spotted Tail’s nose and let out a string of oaths such as Hudson had never heard.
    Spotted Tail didn’t answer but quickly led his band to their horses. They rode away.
    “Will they be back?” Hudson asked the general.
    He stared after them. “Double the night patrol.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Time would tell whether the Indians would come back—as friend
or
foe.

    Dowd entered the parlor carrying a silver salver. “The mail, Mrs. Cain.”
    “Set it down. I shall look at it later.”
    Dowd did as he was told, but said, “There is a letter for you, Miss Josephine.”
    She popped out of her chair and retrieved it. “It’s from Papa!” She broke open the seal and began to read, “‘
Dearest Josephine and family. I
—’”
    Mother lifted her hand. “Please do not read it aloud. You may inform us if there is anything of interest after you have read it through silently.”
    Josephine stared at her mother.
It is
all
of interest
. But she read it to herself, voicing the highlights. “Papa had Indians visit the train!”
    Aunt Bernice made use of her fan. “Indians!”
    “They were friendly,” Josephine said, realizing she should have made that clear. “They just wanted to have a tour. Papa had a meal with them.”
    “He’s lucky
he
wasn’t the meal,” Mother said.
    “Indians don’t eat people.”
    “Then why are they called ‘savages’?”
    Josephine went back to the letter. Her heart began to beat wildly—and not for more mention of Indians. “Papa has invited all of us to come west for a huge celebration they are having when they reach the one-hundredth meridian!”
    “Median?” Aunt asked.
    “Meridian.” Josephine found the explanation in the letter. “‘It is a point of longitude measured from Greenwich, England.’”
    “England?” Mother asked. “I thought they were in Nebraska.”
    Josephine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “They are. It is only a measurement, a milestone.” She consulted the letter. “It is two hundred forty-seven miles west of Omaha.”
    “I thought they passed the hundred-mile mark,” Mother said.
    So she
had
been paying attention to Papa’s letters. “One hundred miles is not the same as the hundredth meridian. And they will not reach it until October, when they will host a grand celebration.”
    Mother gave her head a little shake. “I do not care when it happens. We shall not be going.”
    Josephine was stunned. “Of course we shall! We must go.” She shook the letter. “Papa says Dr. Durant, the head of the Union Pacific, is leading a promotional excursion. Three hundred invitations have been sent out, and we three have one of them. It is an honor.”
    “An honor to be put in harm’s way? Did he not just mention Indians?”
    Josephine wondered what Papa had been thinking, putting mention of Indians in the same letter as the invitation. And why had
she
read that part aloud? “We would not be alone. Hundreds of people will be going west. Hundreds of dignitaries. They would not let us come if it was not safe.”
    Mother’s head began its slow back-and-forth. “We are not going.”
    “But—”
    “Go see if lunch is ready.”
    Josephine was incredulous. “You think about lunch when we have just been offered the most thrilling excursion of our lives? And we would see Papa! Don’t you want to see your own husband?”
    Mother’s face reddened, and Josephine knew she had gone too far. “Lunch, Josephine. And not another word about the excursion.”
    She turned on her heel. “I’m not hungry.” Then she ran upstairs, slammed her bedroom door, and flung herself on her bed.
    She knew it was childish, but she couldn’t help herself. The chance to see