She had left Kimbell only five days before, and yet she felt she had been traveling for years. From one railroad line to another, she’d switched. At Shreveport. In Dallas. In Red River City and again in Junction City. The names were all so similar that in her exhaustion they jumbled up so that she couldn’t remember which was which. The New Orleans Mississippi and Texas Railroad—that was the one through Kimbell. But the others! The Texas Pacific Railroad. The Texas Central Railroad. The Missouri Kansas Texas Railroad, and now the Kansas Pacific. One line was very like another, she thought as she peered bleary-eyed at the early morning landscape. The cars were all noisy and crowded. No matter how well upholstered the seats, after a few hours of sitting her posterior would be numb. And the spittoons! Such a disgusting feature in a public conveyance! Fortunately, with the hot weather the windows were kept open, and those who felt compelled to spit could do so discreetly. The only commendable thing about her journey had been the spectacular views.
