Chapter 2 - On the Road Again
Well, the time had come for Sam and me to say good-bye. I had breakfast with him in the small cabin he rented on the outskirts of town. Before leaving, he gave me an envelope, we hugged and promised to keep in touch with one another. I had the address of his sister in Kalamazoo. I couldn’t give Sam my address as I had no idea where I was going to go.
As I walked back into town, I was sad that I was leaving Turtle River behind. My friendship with Mary had cooled down somewhat but even so; I knew I would miss her as well. As with Sam, we both agreed to keep in touch.
I went back to the rooming house where I boarded, got the little I had and said good-bye to my landlady before catching the stagecoach out of town. The Wells Fargo office was across from the Sheriff’s so I dropped by and had coffee with him before I left. I didn’t even know where I was going. It depended on where the stagecoach was headed.
I was back on the road again just before lunch. I was thankful for the biscuits my landlady gave me when I left. The coach wasn’t expected to stop at the next town for another 3 hours. So there I was, travelling deluxe in a Wells Fargo coach with one other passenger to keep me company. She was a little old lady whom I thought must have been born long before settlers even came to this part of the world.
The three hours seemed to turn into days. The old lady kept on and on about Jesus, his disciples and the biblical events of days gone by. I don’t think she was retelling me things that she had read. Rather, I thought she was recollecting things that she had actually witnessed.
Finally we arrived in Blue Meadows. I was tired so I found lodgings for the night and had a nice hot bath to ease my aching leg muscles from the bumpy road earlier that day. Before I went to bed, I opened the envelope Sam had given me and inside was $100, a small fortune even today. That night, I fell into a deep sleep but do recall dreaming about two fellows named Mark and Luke who went from town to town telling people about a man named Jesus.
In the morning, after a belly filled with the best eggs, bacon and grits that I had had in a long time, I asked the owner if there were any trains nearby. I was told there was a small freight train that would be leaving soon. It was going north to Hot Springs and there, there was a train station where I could continue north, east or west depending on where I wanted to go. The fact that there were no trains going south didn’t bother me at all, having spent most of my life down that way. I wanted new experiences. I wanted to see new places. I thought maybe I would return south briefly a few times, just to see my family but that’s all.
I left to resume my travels. The freight train was leaving in twenty minutes and I was able to get on it. The engineer wouldn’t take any money from me and said he was glad to have some fresh company along the way. The train was carrying hay, ore and lumber. We had to go a distance of some eighty miles before we reached Hot Springs. It took us more than four hours to get there because of the heavy load we were carrying and also because the tracks wound its way around several mountains.
Finally we arrived at our destination. I had seen many trains before but not all at the same time. There were five tracks leading into the station and there were signs by the tracks saying where the trains traveled to. I don’t remember two of them now but I do remember the East Bound Track which had a sign that said “Chicago, New York, Boston”. There was also a train that went to San Francisco and one going to some place I never heard of, Broken Hearts. I thought it was somewhere up north, perhaps in Wyoming, maybe it was near the Canadian border.
I was feeling a bit sad and the name, “Broken Hearts”, seemed to beckon me. Besides, if it was near Canada, I thought maybe I’d cross over and see what was on the other side. I had heard that the people up there were a peaceful lot. Certainly they weren’t fighting amongst themselves as we were down here. I heard there was no such thing as slavery and many of the negroes were going there. There had been rumours of an underground railroad that helped them flee the southern states. Of course, now as I write this, that rumour was proven to be fact when a series of tunnels were found all over the States, leading north to Canada.
I checked with the Ticket Agent who did confirm that Broken Hearts was indeed in Wyoming, 35 miles from the Canadian border. That train was leaving just after supper and would be travelling overnight. That settled it for me. I was going to Broken Hearts.
Once I had purchased my ticket, I ate at a place that served the worst food I ever had in my life. I don’t recall the name but I sure recall the food. I wouldn’t have let my dog eat there, if I had one. I wouldn’t have even let my sister’s dog eat there!
I got back to the train station and had time to kill. I bought a paper and read how the South was winning the war. Being a Southerner, I had mixed emotions. I didn’t want to see the Yankees win but I didn’t agree with much of the slavery I had witnessed. Yes, my Pappy had a slave working for us on the cattle ranch but he was treated well. He even ate with us at suppertime. That wasn’t the case with a lot of the slaves, especially those in Louisiana and Alabama who were picking cotton.