Train to Glory by Lisa Y. Potocar

Author:Lisa Y. Potocar [Potocar, Lisa Y.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Novel of the American Civl War
Publisher: Lisa Y. Potocar
Published: 2017-08-24T00:00:00+00:00

For to me, sweet Jana Lass is sunshine through the heart …

Chapter 12

Jana ought to be feeling regal and enjoying the ride, but the last time she was a passenger in a carriage as exquisite as this one, she’d been bound and gagged. Compounding her misery, Leanne was enforcing keeping the curtains closed. That doomed Jana to staring at the walls of her rocking prison and forbade her from seeing the historical sites of the city—some built in 1804, immediately after Joseph Ellicott, an agent of the Holland Land Company, mapped the streets to radiate outward like spokes on a wheel from Niagara Park (the affluent residential area where Wyatt resided). She especially bemoaned not seeing Courthouse Square where she was originally scheduled to speak. It would’ve given her the privilege of following in the footsteps of great luminaries. She knew that there Revolutionary-War hero General Lafayette in 1825 commemorated the fiftieth anniversary of the war’s outbreak, Martin Van Buren in 1848 accepted his nomination for president of the United States by the Free Soil Party, and Abraham Lincoln in 1861 gave a glimpse into his genius and charismatic personality on his way to being sworn in as the sixteenth president of the United States. As sulky as she was about it, Jana understood all of the precautions for her safe transport and that Wyatt had been compelled to change the venue for her performance due to the shadowy hollows and large boughs of the heavily wooded area around the square that made perfect perches for snipers to gun her down.

Feeling trapped, Jana began drumming her gauntleted fingers against her lap as if she could hurry along the two white horses, laboring to keep a hoof-hold in the icy ruts and prevent their buggy from overturning. The ride went on longer than she’d anticipated until finally a swaying right turn, then another swaying left turn, landed them at what Jana estimated to be her destination. She made a swift move to disembark.

Not fast enough for Leanne whose gloved hand flung out and put a squeeze on Jana’s upper arm that she felt through the layers of her wintry cavalry garb. “Wyatt’s driver and his man ridin’ shotgun got orders to scout the perimeter before they cut us loose.”

Sitting back with an impatient grumble audible only to herself, Jana followed Leanne’s lead and peeked out through a slit she made between her window’s curtain panels. Their coachman stood before a brick building, jabbering with two burly men: One who Jana presumed by the badge pinned to his outer coat was one of several deputies assigned by the Erie County Sheriff’s Office to quell any riots inside the hall, the other who Jana presumed by his canvas jacket and denim work pants was one of several of Wyatt’s construction laborers he’d hired to guard all entries into St. James Hall. Contacted too late to be of service to Jana in Buffalo, the Pinkerton agents would join her at her next stop.

Finally, the door curbside swung open, and the wintry breath of Mr.

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