A Time to Bloom (Leah's Garden #2)(21)
After a couple of days, they reached Omaha, where they would take the new Union Pacific line. Having a longer water break than usual, RJ and Anders headed into town to buy a newspaper.
“You boys heading west?” the friendly owner of the general store asked.
“Just for a visit.” Anders handed over a coin and accepted the paper the man handed back. “My sisters homestead somewhere near Lancaster.”
The man gave a low whistle. “Lancaster. I hear tell they got hit by grasshoppers down that way this week.”
“Really.” Anders stared. “That’s bad.”
“Yep, folks had hoped last summer was the last they’d see of the varmints. You know, they’re thinking to make Lancaster the capital, once we get statehood next year.”
Anders cocked his head. “I didn’t know the town was big enough.”
“It ain’t, not right now. Makes little sense to me, nor most folks around here. But you know them politicians. They got their own ideas, and it makes no nevermind what the common people think. They’ve got some notion of laying it out as a paper town, building it from the ground up. There’s even talk of changing the name from Lancaster to Lincoln.”
“In honor of our late president.” Anders nodded slowly.
A man stepped up to the counter and scoffed. “Just another political move.”
The owner moved to ring up the customer’s order. “It makes little difference to me. I got business enough of my own to worry over. But some folks are awful fired up about it and think the capital should stay here in Omaha.”
“And so it should,” put in the other man, a burly fellow buying bridles and tack. “There’s nothin’ down there but salt marshes anyhow. Like that paper there will tell ya”—he jabbed a finger at Anders’s purchase—“they got no river, no railroad, no steam wagon, nothin’. We’ve been leading the territory this long. The seat of government should stay right here where it belongs.”
The general store owner sent the customer on his way, then quirked an amused brow at Anders and RJ. “As I said, it’s a mighty sore subject around here. You boys have a good trip, now.”
They stepped back into the sunshine, Anders unfolding the newspaper as they walked. He scanned the front page and chuckled. “That man wasn’t joking. There’s an article right here on the state capital debate. ‘Nobody will ever go to Lincoln who does not go to the legislature, the lunatic asylum, the penitentiary, or some other state institution.’ Sore subject indeed. It’d be mighty interesting if the capital did end up down near Salton, though. I wonder what change it would bring to the area.” Anders read further. “And here’s something on the grasshoppers. It sounds like they hit sporadically. I sure hope they spared my sisters’ place. That could set them back terribly.” He shook his head, then folded the paper and nudged RJ. “If they do build Lancaster up as a paper town, they’ll be needing a lot of construction men. Maybe you should consider sticking around this territory. Or state, as it soon will be.”
“I’ll think on it.” RJ squinted in the sunshine, ready to return to the soothing dimness of the cattle car.
Their train rumbled on over the newly laid rails west, then took the beginnings of the southward branch toward Lancaster. By the time the engine pulled up at the Salton water stop, the pain had begun again, sending flashes of agony into RJ’s skull till he nearly acquiesced to the opium once more. He might have if the conductor hadn’t hollered out their stop.
They stepped onto the roughhewn train platform, the summer sun still well above the horizon, though it was early evening. Construction of the station looked well begun. Anders’s oldest sister, Larkspur, met them with a wagon. She was tall and strong for a woman, wearing a man’s hat despite her calico dress.
“Welcome.” She climbed down, her face weary but beaming, and embraced Anders. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, big brother.”
“As are you.” Anders hugged her hard, lifting her boots off the ground despite her height, then released her. “I’ve brought a couple of guests. I don’t know if you got our telegram.”
“We did.” Lark stepped back and turned. “Climie.” She wrapped the frail young woman in her arms. “I’m so glad you came.”
Climie clung to her, her thank-you barely audible.
“And you must be RJ.” Releasing Climie, Larkspur extended her hand. “Welcome. We’ll have to squeeze you all in at Adam and Forsythia’s house. They’re the only ones with extra room, but they don’t mind.”
RJ shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Nielsen.”
“Lark, please. Everyone calls me that.” She blew out a breath. “You’ll find us reeling a bit just now, I’m afraid. But we’re so glad you’re all here.”
Anders’s eyes darkened. “What happened?”
“Grasshoppers. They hit our wheat. Not as badly as some other families, but we took some damage. The worst was the garden.” She blinked hard, her jaw tightening. Even RJ, despite his pain, could see her fight against the tears. “They destroyed most of what we’d planted from Mama’s seeds this year. Smoke from pails we lit did manage to save some of our food for the winter, at least.”
“Oh, Lark.” Anders rubbed a hand over his face. “Can you replant?”