"Dear Miss Belle,"
Priscilla started reading the creased letter she gingerly held again, despite the shaking of the train as it rattled westward. She tried to relax.
It had been a tense five days watching over her shoulder in Springfield while arrangements were made for her to travel. She had confined herself indoors, the less people that could recognize her, the less clues could be found to where she was going. So, she set to studying her syllabus when she wasn't eating, glancing out the window to the street below, or through a cracked door out to the hall.
One of the few times she had ventured into the city was to have her hair trimmed. The thought had been unappetizing. She had spent some time thinking about it, but decided the additional layer of security was worth it. Now sporting a pompadour style, raising her hair upwards in the central part, and leaving fallen curls at the sides, in a darker drown. She had to admit the shorter cut was lighter and more airy despite her initial reservations, and she had hardly recognized herself in the mirror afterwards.
Three more days of travel and sleeping on the train, and she had decided she did not mind train travel; and only regretted not thinking of finding a good book for the journey and not travelling first class. It rather reminded her of travelling on the water, the slight motion of the train and constant noise. She did not mind sailing.
Pricilla finished the letter once more. She wasn’t sure how many times she had read it. The talk of a cottage seemed quaint, however the mention of it being the best in the town, made her wonder if Mrs Catherine Lennox was prone to hyperbole.
Fifteen kids seemed like an exhilarating challenge that she was looking forward to. She had enjoyed tutoring the younger well-to-do kids who her parents had known the parents of in Boston. Never so many, but Mrs Wolden had assured the number did not matter as long as their teacher kept a firm but nurturing hand.
A shout came from the back of the car and she started, turning in her seat and peeking over it with a ducked head to see the commotion. Had she been discovered? A few moments observation revealed a cramped passenger had become upset with his travelling companion, and she relaxed once more. Glancing over at her seatmate, an elderly man with tufts of grey above his ears who she had only seen awake when they first boarded, she mused. His face and knobby hands were weathered, though even in sleep, he seemed grandfatherly. He must have worked out in the elements most of his life.
Priscilla had decided he was a fisherman heading inland to visit his children. His wife had passed away some time ago. He loved his family, but he couldn’t leave the sea behind, it kept calling him back to his small fishing boat he had known all his life.
She nodded with satisfaction and turned back to the letter she rested in her lap.
Now what did the mining town of Silver Creek look like?
The train shuttered as it began to slow, approaching the Goodwater station. A railroad town, like every other the train had passed through, there was little to remark about Goodwater save for that it was the closest to Silver Creek and thus, her stop.
Peering out the windows at the sparse landscape, she might have been disappointed if it weren’t for the anticipation of arriving at her final destination. Far from the metropolis of Boston, Goodwater seemed a sparse, spartan place with the only colours contrasting the shades of brown filling the landscape, the handful of signs denoting one shop or another. A handful of people gathered at the station platform, one of whom she assumed must be the Mr. Arthur she was to meet. None appeared to be from Boston way, something she checked at every stop, just in case.
As she began gathering her belongings, a warm, rough voice gave her pause, “Disembarking all ready?” The old man beside her peered up at her from bushy grey eyebrows with a toothless smile.
Priscilla smiled back, she hadn’t met her grandfather, but she liked to think this man might have reminded her of him. “Yes, thank you for your company. I hope you have a safe journey to wherever you are going.”
He nodded gratefully. “Thank you kindly little Muss. You mind your way, and keep a hat on your head. That sun out here will dry you up like a raisin like me if’n you don’t.”
He chuckled at his own joke and she thanked him for the advice before bidding him adieu.
The air was cool for mid afternoon under the clouded sky. Perhaps rain was coming, but it did not smell of it yet and the dusty ground held no moisture. Priscilla stepped onto the platform, moving to the side to let others pass as she peered into the handful of faces in the crowd. Her now short black hair was kept as well as she could given she had been train bound for the last few days. She had not bothered with makeup after the first day of travel, how it became mussed while she sat on a train was beyond her reasoning, and her complexion was quite fair. She wore a well cut, unadorned wide skirt in darker sky blue with a protruding bustle, a style falling out of popularity for flat bustles and tighter skirts in Boston. An intentional choice on her part to attempt to blend in with what had been common in Springfield. She had done her best not to dress like someone with money, but anyone with a fine eye for clothing would see a very high quality dress despite its lack of ornamentation. It was the best she could do until she could buy more clothing.
Setting her small suitcase and bag of teaching materials down on the platform, she smoothed her apron and skirts, electing to wait until some of the crowd cleared before searching for ‘Mr Arthur.’
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