The two sisters, Jenny and Clara, sat side by side on the porch swing, the last rays of afternoon sun spilling across the frayed hem of Clara's travel dress. Their decision had been made, their trunks were packed, and all that remained was the uneasy waiting.
All their lives, the girls had watched the coal trains crawl west from their Massachusetts town—smoke trailing like a black ribbon into the unimagined. Now, on the thin edge of spring, it was their turn to follow the tracks.
The local men had already paired off with the best of the remaining girls, and any hope of love—let alone a future—seemed to dwindle with every passing Sunday. Desperation, or perhaps boldness, had led them to answer the advertisement in the Providence Gazette: "Western Gentlemen of means and established reputation seek respectable brides to join in the cultivation of new settlements." Jenny and Clara wrote a cautious letter and waited three weeks for a reply.
