Prologue

1876

New York City, New York

“You are every bit as unruly as your father!” Virginia’s grandfather’s booming voice filled the little blue New York townhouse until the shutters shook. The house had once been an easier place to live in, but that had been before Virginia’s mother died. Now, the only person Virginia had was her grandfather—or rather all they had was each other. He had always been cold and strict, but over the past two years he had become even more cantankerous. It was nearly unbearable. And his words hurt.

Virginia pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to try and bite back venomous words.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said. “I never knew him.” It was true. All she had were her mother’s stories paired with her grandfather’s refusal to even utter the man’s name. He was way out West and far out of reach.

Her grandfather’s elderly face scrunched up until his eyes nearly disappeared. His hawkish gray eyebrows completely eclipsed the top half of his face to the bridge of his nose.

He ignored her comment about her father, moving onto something else that gave him better footing to yell at her.

“There is dust in this house that I could draw my finger through.” By way of demonstration, he drew his index finger over the mantelpiece and showed her the dust that had collected on the pad. The sitting room was barely used, so it was no wonder there was dust. She didn’t have the strength argue about it, however. Virginia turned her face away, knowing he would interpret it as shame, but she was really trying to swallow down the anger that rocketed up her throat.

“I am sorry,” she said. She tried to stay quiet and demure. She tried to be everything that he expected. She wanted to be a good housekeeper and a lady, but she was also a seamstress, and she worked long hours to make sure that they had the means of getting by. She never held it against him, but she wanted to.

“Sorry does me no good,” he chided. “Sorry doesn’t get this house any cleaner.”

“I know,” she said. “I will clean it tomorrow morning before I leave.” That meant getting up early before the sun even had the idea of rising, but she would do it if it earned her a moment’s peace.

“No, you won’t,” he said. “You will sleep in late, as you always do. You will leave this house for hours, you will come back, and nothing will get done. I am lucky that there is even food on the table in the evenings. I think you intend to starve me. All I can hope for is that my body will be discovered in a timely fashion.”

“Papa!” Virginia buried her face in her hands. It was all becoming too much. After a long, hard day spent bent over yards of fabric, sewing gowns that she would never be able to afford, all she wanted was just a moment to herself. Some peace and quiet spent at the window in her second-floor bedroom, sitting in her little pink chair taking in the last dregs of sunlight and cool evening air. All she wanted was to feel like a human being, and her grandfather made her feel lower than that. Unworthy, even, like she was taking up space that could be handed to someone else more capable.

“What?” He hammered on. “Is it too much for you? Neither of us wanted to see your mother die, but she did, and now—God help me—you are all that is left. I only wish that I could blame her for never teaching you how to be a proper housekeeper before she passed on.”

It was too much. Virginia didn’t know how long he expected her to stand there and be belittled. She drew herself up and pushed her shoulders back, swallowing down the tears that burned the back of her eyes and threatened to spill over.

“You are not being fair to me at all, Papa!” she said. “I have, by all accounts, been very good to you!” She tried to hold back further words, but the dam had broken, and now it was all she could do to keep a civil tongue in her head. “I admit to not keeping house as well as I should. I could do better, but I am working so hard to try and keep a roof over our head and food on the table. I know that I am not as good to you as Mama was, but I don’t think that anybody can be! I don’t think that anyone has that sort of patience!”

“Don’t you take that tone with me!” His anger surged visibly anew. Her grandfather turned red in the face and blustering. Every word came sliding out of his mouth on an angry, snarling huff. “You are family, but that does not earn you the right to a place underneath my roof. I would tread carefully, and respectfully, if I were you.”

Virginia took a deep breath. The look she gave her grandfather was a long one, where the silence stretched between them a taut as a wire.

“I have walked on eggshells around you my entire life, trying not to earn your ire,” she said. “I have only ever wanted your approval and your love. Is it so hard to give that to me?”

“You cannot have what you do not deserve,” he said to her. “You can have it when you earn it. And all I have seen so far from you is that you are a selfish girl, not even a proper woman. I am ashamed to have raised you. Your mother would be ashamed of you, too.”

That was more than she could take. Virginia turned away without responding at all. She kept walking until she hit the staircase and then she ran, taking the narrow wooden steps two at a time until she could dart into her bedroom. Once she was there, she threw herself down, grabbed her pillow, and cried.

She didn’t keep track of how long she was there. When she finally lifted her head, the sun had almost set entirely, and the sky was a dusky shade of orange.

Virginia pushed her face back into her pillow and heaved. She wanted nothing more than to leave. She could not take it anymore. Her grandfather’s cruelty was too much to bear. She could not continue being the breadwinner and the housemaid, all while bearing the brunt of his disapproval. If there was a better way, she did not know it. She felt as though she was already doing everything that she could.

Finally, Virginia sat up. She sniffled again and pushed her hair away from her sticky forehead. She glanced at herself in the small, tarnished mirror that hung on the wall beside her bed. Her nose was red, her eyes puffy. She had strands of hair stuck to her face and her neck and all-in-all, she looked like a sobbing mess. A silly girl, like her grandfather would say. And maybe he was right.

No. She could not think that. Virginia was a woman who was more than capable of caring for herself. She had cared for him for years, whether he wanted to admit it or not. She had stepped in to fill her mother’s shoes all too early, and had given up on the prospect of finding a husband or entering society as a young New York socialite for the sake of putting her grandfather’s health first.

Privilege and time were not at her disposal. If she wanted to live any differently, she would have to leave. That much was clear.

Virginia rolled off her bed and sank down onto her knees once she hit the floor. She reached underneath her bed and grabbed the worn leather handles of an old trunk. She gave it a tug and slid the trunk across the floor, pulling it closer until she could unbuckle the straps and raise the lid. Inside, there was a velvet-lined box, and in that box was a necklace that had belonged to her mother.

It was a simple thing, pure gold and delicate like a swift’s wingtips. A locket dangled from it, and inside was a dried bit of flower. It was a bluebonnet, Virginia believed, or something like that from out West. She remembered her mother telling her about it, about how such beautiful and colorful wildflowers were everywhere out past the reaches of the civilization they both knew.

Her mother had always said that New York was so gray and dim. That there was no life there. Even the bustling on the street was depressing and the people there were only gossips with nothing to chew on. She said that out West, things were different. People were not stuck in their ways. They were full of hope and longing for adventure. They had dreams of striking it rich, whether it was through panning for gold or through cattle ranching or some other means. It was those dreams of hope, expansion, and freedom that kept them alive. New Yorkers were already content with their lot in life. So many of them, too, were fresh from across the sea and bringing a new wave of European highfalutin nonsense.

Out West, people were all-American. They had American ambitions fit for the size of a new world. Just the thought of her mother’s stories made Virginia clutch the locket a little closer to her chest and she stared out her window, wondering.

After a moment, Virginia kissed the locket and placed it back into its box. She then reached back into the trunk and pulled out a train ticket. It was a little faded from being shuffled around, pulled out and then shoved back in egregious moments of indecision. Virginia held it once again in her hands and stared at the information typed out in black blots of letter-shaped ink.

LARAMIE. WYOMING. ONE WAY.

She couldn’t even remember when she bought it. All she remembered was that she had been angry with her grandfather when she had done it. Then she had felt remorse and shoved it underneath her bed. There were a few occasions where she pulled it out again, only to nearly hurl it into the fire.

But she never could do it. It always found its way back into her trunk and underneath her bed. Sometimes she tucked it into her pocket and started to walk down the stairs. Sometimes she got all the way to the front door.

She never left the house with it, though. It had cost her a pretty enough penny that it was too precious to lose. Up until this moment, it had always represented something more. It was her dream of going out West. Maybe she would even find her father out there. She didn’t believe her grandfather’s boisterous proclamations that he was ‘no good’. If anything, she would more readily believe that it was her grandfather who had driven him away.

Her mother had always spoken about him with such gentle fondness. She always held such a soft, sad, faraway look in her eyes when she did so.

Virginia had to wonder what he looked like. So often did she find herself gazing in the mirror and wondering which parts of her came from him. She had always been told that she looked so much like her mother. No one ever mentioned her father, no one gave him any credit for what might have been his responsibility.

The only thing she had that her mother would freely admit to was his nose. Virginia wasn’t even sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Wyoming. West. The siren’s call of Manifest Destiny. It had a vicious grip on her heart and now it would not let go. She thought about the things her grandfather had shouted only hours before. She thought about the way his face had turned red and how he huffed when he bellowed. He knew that his words hurt her, and he did not care.

That was all right. He did not have to care. Virginia would find her own home. She would make her own way, just like her parents had done in the beginning.

Whatever life was waiting for her there it had to be a better one than this. Virginia tucked the ticket into her bodice and then slipped on her mother’s necklace.

A few hours’ sleep was all she needed. Her grandfather would be asleep by now, but he was an early riser. She would have to get up before he did if she wanted to make her escape.

Chapter One

It was an hour before dawn when Virginia managed to open her eyes and pull herself out of bed.

She had not slept all that well, and she was still exhausted, but her nerves were too jumbled to even allow her to try and grab a wink more of sleep. Her trunk was still on the floor, open just like how she had left it when she pulled out the ticket to Laramie. She set the trunk on the bed and made her way to her dresser, tip-toeing silently so that her footsteps did not wake her sleeping grandfather.

Virginia went over to her wardrobe and grabbed as many articles of clothing as she could. It was hot out West, she knew that much. Her mother had described scathing summers and crisp autumns. Based on that, Virginia left her thicker jackets behind. She took only the barest of what she needed, which included an extra petticoat, her good church gown, and a new pair of boots that she had received several Christmases ago and still not worn, because her new ones were not yet worn to pieces.

She pinned up her hair underneath her good bonnet and tucked a velvet purse into her skirt pocket. She touched the locket around her throat again, just to make sure that it was there.

The trunk barely closed, but she managed to tighten the straps until it was shut. It was heavy, but Virginia was used to hauling bolts of fabric that were as tall as she was, and so she did not find it too difficult to carry.

As soon as Virginia set foot into the hallway, the floorboards wanted to creak. She grimaced and continued, still treading as lightly as she could to avoid making as much noise as possible. Hesitating at the top of the staircase, she placed her hand lightly against the banner. She held her breath, waiting to be interrupted by her grandfather’s angry and puzzled berating.

Nothing happened. She didn’t want to press her luck, either. Virginia started down the staircase, creeping slowly until she reached the bottom.

Once Virginia reached the ground floor, she headed for the front door. Hesitation drew her back once again and she looked over her shoulder. Guilt squeezing her lungs, making her second-guess every choice. There was no telling whether she was doing the right thing. She would not know until she reached her destination.

Still, she had to say goodbye to her grandfather. It was not right to leave him like this. Virginia left the trunk waiting for her by the door and then she made her way into the kitchen, able to move quicker and lighter without the extra burden of her baggage.

There was no light except for the quickly-approaching dawn. She didn’t have much time at all before her grandfather decided to wake up. Virginia went through the kitchen and came out of the other side until she was in her grandfather’s study. It was a small, cramped room with a single desk and a worn green velvet chair. On top of it was a quill, ink, and a stack of parchment that was barely touched anymore.

She grabbed a piece of the paper and dipped the quill in the ink. She scribbled out a note without even sitting down, just stooping over the desk like a deer ready to bolt at the sound of a hunter.

Dear Papa,

I am leaving. I have thought long and hard about it, and I have realized that this is what I must do. All our misunderstandings are at an end. I am going to pursue a new life that I hope will make me a woman that you can be proud of, someday. I hope that you understand and I hope that you can forgive me.

With all my love,

Your Virginia

She did not fold the note. She simply left it on his desk and ran back to her trunk. Virginia glanced back up the stairs once more and strained to listen for the sound of footsteps, or anything that might indicate he was up and about.

What if he is waiting outside the door?

It was a ridiculous thought. Virginia still stayed frozen for half a second longer because of it.

Nothing. The longer she lingered, the more she risked everything. Virginia picked up the trunk and unlocked the door, quietly, before stepping out onto the townhouse stoop.

She closed the door behind her until she heard the lock catch, and only then did she take her first real breath.

The gray morning smelled like smog, and Virginia’s hands shook as she started down the sidewalk, walking as quickly as she could to cover as much ground as possible. She knew that there were a few good hours before the train left but nothing good would come from lingering.

Even if she changed her mind there was no way she could explain herself at this stage. And if her grandfather knew that she had tried to leave, he would make it impossible for her to ever make another attempt. It was now, or it was never.

“Out West it will be better,” she told herself, over and over, as she walked. A few men hurrying to their appointments or their offices passed by her, as well as some hurried women trying to make their morning socializations or nurses pushing prams. The city was waking up. Everyone was bustling to get to wherever they needed to be.

She wondered exactly how many of them desired to do the exact same thing of hopping onto a train and letting it take them anywhere but here.

Judging from the looks on a few of their faces, she could only guess that the answer was ‘more than would care to admit to it’.

***

The train whistled loudly and woke Virginia up from her sleep. She had dozed off on a wooden bench while waiting for the conductor to call her ticket. Virginia tugged the piece of paper out of her bodice and glanced it over. The number painted on the side of the train in front of her matched that on her ticket.

The conductor was calling out tiredly, somewhat impatiently, “All passengers for Laramie, Wyoming! All aboard!”

Virginia stood up. Her head felt heavier than before, and she was regretting her nap. She swayed on her feet and almost forgot to grab her trunk, but she managed to pick it up and walk over to the train where the conductor was collecting and punching tickets.

“Laramie,” she said breathlessly, thrusting her ticket at the conductor. He gave her a look, and she blushed out of embarrassment. “I am sorry,” she started to apologize. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

The conductor accepted her ticket and punched it in two places.

“This is New York,” he said, and handed it back to her. That was about as much of an acknowledgment of forgiveness as she was going to get. He was right. Brusque was the language spoken by New Yorkers. She just never wanted to be counted among the number that could be considered terse or even rude.

Swallowing her urge to apologize again, Virginia boarded the train and handed her luggage off to a helpful looking young man in a square hat. She then made her way through the cramped aisle until she found a seat by the window and slid in. The train was not horribly crowded, which was a small blessing. She thanked God under her breath and glanced out the window.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Seeing the station from the other side of the glass was entirely surreal. Was she really about to leave it all behind? This smoky, dismal, crowded city that had been her home for as long as she could remember? New York was where so many came to follow their dreams. There were people who died trying to touch its golden shores. And here she was, practically spitting on it as she departed.

Maybe her grandfather was right. Maybe she was an ungrateful brat. Maybe she was a spoilt child and not at a young woman at all. She should go back. What was she thinking? She was leaving behind her job. She had given absolutely no notice that she would not be showing up the next day. They would wonder what happened to her. They might even panic. If her grandfather had not suspected she was missing, before, then he would know for sure when her employer showed up at his door asking after her whereabouts.

And her grandfather… her poor grandfather. How was he going to get by without her? He was getting older every day and he was very stout, very hardy, but he could not manage the entire house by himself. There was a very good chance of everything falling into squalor without her there to maintain it to some degree. He would never hire a maid, as often as she had begged him to. He would sit and let the dust collect on his shoulders before he ever considered it.

That thought broke her heart and Virginia stood up. As she did so, the train started, and she rocked back on her heels. Virginia fell into her seat, feeling like her brain was being jostled as the train started easing its way down the tracks. Steam hissed and the station slowly moved past her window. By the time the station was gone, the train picked up speed, and it was far too late to change her mind.

She watched the city go by, all the landmarks that she knew and loved. She glanced down and saw the tracks disappearing as fast as they came, and then in the blink of an eye, everything was gone. The gray city was behind her, smothered in morning smog where even the sun could not peer through.

Virginia set her hand against her chest and tried to force herself to stay calm. She watched it all go, watched the buildings turn into trees and then watched the sky go from gray to blue. The sun was shining again, and the golden promise of the west was suddenly back inside her heart. Minutes, maybe hours, away from New York was all it took. The fact that she had no choice, that there was no way to stop the train and turn around, took the burden off her shoulders. All she could do was live with her decision. There was no use in dwelling on what might have been, or what she should have done.

She caught sight of the little puffs of steam that the engine left in its wake. The sight made her smile. Hawks circled in the sky, and herons roosted in the heavy tree boughs.

New York did not have such birds. New York did not have such trees. New York had nothing left for her, Wyoming would have everything.

West, she thought to herself. Laramie, Virginia is on its way to you.