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I'll See You In Your Dreams Page 6
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Colton adored his mother and would often sneak peeks at her face when she went about household tasks. She would be in deep concentration at some chore, and Colton would wonder how anyone could abandon such a lovely and graceful woman. She was a wonderful listener and would patiently answer all the questions that Colton could conjure up. He would often ask more questions than he even wanted to know just to see her eyes sparkle and her lips move in her sincere attempt to help him.
She worked in a pub during the day. They were quite poor and lived in a small room adjacent to the pub, part of her employment arrangement. The pub owner was a likeable fellow with a big belly and rosy cheeks, who was always in a constant witty banter with the townsfolk. He often brought the Johansons extra food, which helped stretch her meager pay. Poor or not, they were essentially happy and would spend evenings singing songs and telling stories.
She was born into an affluent family of horse breeders. She was christened Hannah Adele Johansson. Her father, Haldor Johansson, was a successful horse breeder, known for their Swedish Warm Bloods. He knew breeding was everything, and he had plans to insure his future grandchildren would be of the finest stock. He was also a strict disciplinarian of both horses and family.
Hannah had always done all she could to please her father, and had succeeded for the most part. His carping criticisms of virtually everyone else was how he controlled them. He never complimented anyone on a job well done. He thought it would only spoil them. The nit-picking would, so he thought, motivate them to do better and keep them in their place. He justified his bullying by modeling himself after God in the good book. If God was to be feared, then by god, he was to be feared as well.
She had applied herself enthusiastically to learning all about horse breeding and the Warm Bloods. She spent much time around the trainers. Angus Cameron was such a gentleman, and his patience in educating Hannah belied his age of twenty. He, as the son of a trainer, had literally been in training since a toddler. He was handsome and strong.
Hannah fell in love. She loved his kindness and his way of encouraging good behavior. His soft words of encouragement to the horses made her almost jealous. The wondrous feeling of affection he created seemed to contrast sharply with the anxiety created by her father’s method of control.
When Hannah had announced she was in love with a horse trainer by the name of Angus Cameron, her father flew into a rage. No daughter of his was to breed with a common horse trainer.
He promptly fired the trainer. To insure his will would supersede the enormous force of passion, he hired a ship captain and close friend. They arranged to have Angus kidnapped and taken as far away from Sweden and his daughter as possible. Short of murder, this would ensure his permanent absence. Her father fulfilled his mission to make certain Angus would never return.
Haldor told Hannah that he’d learned from the other trainers that Angus had abandoned her, and had secured passage to America to escape his vow of love.
Hannah was heartbroken and cried for weeks until one day her father came to her with the ‘Lost at Sea’ notice that was posted regularly in the town square. 1877, Feb, Ship-Mildred V. Lee-RM; native of Sweden; single; known as Angus Cameron.
Haldor told his daughter that Angus Cameron was not his real name and that he was of questionable character. She had been duped by a charlatan.
Hannah sobbed uncontrollably. She slept almost continually for several days. Then the reign of Haldor’s will came crumbling down as love began to show, and kick.
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Haldor was deeply consumed with rage when he heard the news of Hannah’s pregnancy. His wife, Hannah’s mother, Margareta, tried desperately to calm Haldor and plead for his forgiveness. His hatred was unrelenting as he thought of the whore who was once his daughter. He commanded his wife to pack all of Hannah’s things and banish her from his life forever. Then he had her burn all traces of their daughter and for Hannah’s name to never be spoken again. Margareta knew of Haldor’s power and connections, and ultimately, the futility of protesting.
Margareta helped Hannah to pack her belongings. She sobbed with Hannah as they realized this would be the last time they would see each other. Margareta pulled a purse of coins from the pocket of her dress and shoved it into her daughter’s hand. “There should be enough to cover your expenses for a year or more.” She croaked as sobs competed for her breath, and then hurriedly continued. “In with the money are two addresses, one a cousin in Hastings and the other a prominent horse breeder in Sussex, a Lady Anne Blunt in Crabbet Park. She is a special friend and a lover of horses.”
Margareta held Hannah’s face in her two hands and looked into her eyes as tears streamed down their faces.
“I love you with all my heart, my dear Hannah,” she sobbed, and continued. “Your father’s heart and soul has been replaced by social standing and material wealth.” She sobbed and choked again. “Love is more important, my daughter. In your belly grows a love truer and more valuable than all the material wealth or social standing in the world, and always remember, daughter, that I will always love you like that. I’m just too weak to defend you.”
She sobbed a moment further and continued. “I will always be with you in my dreams.” Her lips quivered and she finished, “I love you!”
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Hannah left Flyinge, Sweden, the village of her birth, and set out in a small wagon driven by a servant that would return it. She headed to Malvo, Sweden and took the ferry to Copenhagen. She made her way through Germany, Belgium, and finally to France where she boarded the ferry to England.
She settled in the small fishing town called Hastings. There she met her mother’s cousin, who introduced her to the pub owner who gave her a job and place to stay.
She took daily strolls down the street she now lived on, which was called All Saints Street. She thought that an appropriate name as she beseeched all the saints every day to help her and her coming child.
With the help of a midwife, Colton was born a fine healthy boy. At three he roamed up and down All Saints Street until all the merchants knew him by name. He was a precocious child, and his vocabulary was such that many merchants and villagers would try to engage him in conversation just to test his verbal proficiency. His ability to listen and completely grasp and understand any other person’s point of view was extraordinary for such a young child.
Colton loved the beach and all the fishing boats. He enjoyed the many other kids who hung out with him virtually all day every day, until dusk when mothers could be heard calling dinnertime.
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Hannah and her mother wrote letters to each other about once a month. Margareta feared Haldor and posted her letters in town through a friend. She delighted in hearing of her daughter’s happiness and of the many adventures of Colton.
In 1880, when Colton was three-years-old, Margareta sent a letter to Lady Anne Blunt. Lady Anne and her husband, Wilfred, were importing Arabian horses from Egypt to their estate at Crabbet Park. Due to the tremendous number of horses imported, they were becoming the largest and best known Arabian breeders in the world.
Margareta had met Lady Blunt at a horse show, where Haldor was showing his Warm Bloods, and the Blunts were showing Arabians. Margareta and Lady Anne became fast friends and traveled together on several trips throughout Europe.
In her current letter, Margareta poured her heart out and told the entire story of Hannah and Colton. She implored Lady Anne to secrecy. She reminded her of Hannah’s training and skill with horses and if she could help in any way to enhance the future prospects of her daughter and grandson.
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One month later a carriage pulled up in front of The Red Lion Pub where Hannah worked. The carriage was of such a regal design that various inhabitants of All Saints Street followed it to see just who these aristocrats were. A woman with a flowing cape and large hat emerged from the carriage. She walked confidently into the pub. The half dozen regulars froze, mouth agape, as the woman with the opulent beari
ng approached Hannah. In one deft move she pulled a pin and removed her hat. She looked at Hannah and smiled.
“You must be Hannah.”
“I am,” replied Hannah with astonishment.
“Permit me to introduce myself. I am Lady Anne Blunt,” and she gave a short bow. Hannah gave a hesitant small bow in return. “I have traveled here with my husband Lord Blunt to offer you a job on our large and growing Arabian horse breeding farm. We will, of course, provide housing and an education for your son.” She stopped speaking and waited for Hannah’s reply.
The two women stood silently looking at each other. Finally, a tear rolled down Hannah’s cheek. Lady Blunt’s eyes filled with tears. Still they stood for another moment, and as tears flowed down their cheeks, Lady Blunt opened her arms, and Hannah stepped into them. She embraced Hannah with warmth and affection. When they parted she looked into Hannah’s eyes and said with tenderness, “that was from your mother who loves you very much.”
Hannah went into her arms once more and sobbed as though releasing the hurt and loneliness of the last few years. She finally had hope for her son and herself.
Once again they parted, and Lady Blunt enquired with a smile on her face, “So, do we have a deal or not?”
“Deal,” Hannah replied with a huge smile and a radiance not seen in years.
“I will send a carriage and servants to move you to Crabbet Park in two weeks.”
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Two weeks later they were settled into a three-room cottage with a small garden at Crabbet Park. It seemed like a mansion to Hannah and Colton.
Hannah worked enthusiastically with the horses around the farm. She loved every minute. Colton spent all his free time at the barn or corrals. When he wasn’t with the tutor whom Lady Anne had hired for all the children of the workers at the farm, he was with the horses.
In 1896 Colton was nineteen-years-old. His basic education was finished, and he had acquired horsemanship skills second to none. Hannah had met a prosperous merchant and aristocrat and was soon to be married. He was such a prosperous merchant, with land holdings, a limestone and chalk quarry, and farms, that Margareta had finally told Haldor of their daughter’s success.
Haldor had decided to forgive his daughter and was planning to attend the wedding with Margareta. Hannah was so happy and fulfilled that she simply forgave her father for her mother’s sake.
The wedding was a noble affair, the largest ever held in Sussex. Hannah became the wife of Henry Charles Lennox, third Duke of Gordon and soon to be eighth Duke of Richmond. Now that his mother would be safely cared for by a Duke, it freed him to pursue a dream and make a tough decision.
With such ample resources, Colton now had great opportunities. He could virtually pick any profession or employment pursuit and achieve it. Henry’s contacts would open most any door. He knew what he had to do. He needed to make it on his own. He was going to America.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Colton arrived at Ellis Island in 1896 at age nineteen. He made his way through all the red tape and examinations by various doctors.
He finally walked the streets of New York and was in awe of the hustle and bustle and excitement that filled the air. It was a city of hope. He found a room and paid for it from the small pouch given to him by his mother. She’d told him that her mother had given it to her when she left home. She had used little of the money as she had found employment quickly. The gold coins had increased in value, and she was sure Colton could cover travel expenses and overhead for a year or two.
Colton spent a month in New York. He talked to everyone he could and considered every possible opportunity to make his own way and seek his fortune.
One day Colton sat on a bench at New York Harbor eating lunch. It was a beautiful sunny day, and he was intrigued watching a fisherman unload his catch. As he sat pondering a fisherman’s life and possible earnings, a gentleman sat on the same bench and began to eat his lunch. They both watched the fisherman.
“What a beautiful day and a beautiful harbor,” Colton said, as if to himself, but actually to invite comment.
“Yes, it is,” replied the stranger. He was an older gentleman and had an aura of wisdom about him.
“You work around here?” asked Colton.
“No, son, I retired a few years ago.”
“What did you do, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I don’t mind at all. I retired as a merchant seaman and tug boat captain.”
“Wow, that sounds like an interesting life.”
“It had its moments.”
“Did you work this harbor?”
“Oh, yes, the New York Harbor is one of the biggest, and I also worked one of the most beautiful harbors, which was part of the most beautiful city in the world.”
“Really, where was that?” Colton asked with intense interest.
“I worked twenty years in the San Francisco Bay. It’s truly one of the most beautiful cities I ever saw.”
“More beautiful than New York?”
“You truly can’t compare the two. New York is my home and is like my old coat here. It is warm and comfortable and old enough to fit just right. San Francisco is a lot like New York except it’s a bit younger and has that, how do you say, élan, life, enthusiasm, style. It has developed a character that is loved by its inhabitants.” The old man looked at Colton and continued. “If I were a young man, I’d head to San Francisco.”
“How is the best way to get there?” Colton asked.
“By the most powerful corporation in California, the Southern Pacific Railroad.”
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Colton arrived in Oakland, California, which was the railway terminus for San Francisco. It was a major hub of the Southern Pacific Railroad.
Colton loved the bustling activity of the depot and the many boats and ships vying for right of way in the harbor. There was a sense of purpose and verve, and an almost mad dash to capture life and live it to the maximum. The overall exuberance to build, construct, and ostensibly to seek one’s fortune was intoxicating to Colton.
As he walked the dusty street to the wharf, he heard someone call, “wrangler, cowboys, need a job?”
Colton turned to see a black man standing on a box, calling out to a group of a dozen or so men just disembarking from a recently docked paddle wheeler. All dressed in black, he sported a black Stetson with a silver hat band. He had a silver buckle and silver spurs. He appeared confident, with an air of experience about him. No one seemed to respond to the black man’s calls.
Colton walked up to him and said, “I need a job.”
The black man turned his eyes to Colton, and with a slightly bemused expression asked, “You seem a bit young to answer to the request for a wrangler.”
“It is true, I’m only nineteen, but I assure you, no one has walked this street that is more qualified than I am.”
The cool black man stuck out his hand. “My name is Samuel Thomas Aaron Novak. Friends call me Sam. What would you prefer to call me? You have four choices.” He paused as Colton surveyed Sam.
“Shall I call you Mr. Novak until I earn your friendship? And while I’m asking, what must I do to earn the right to call you Sam?”
“You must decide if I am a friend or not.”
Colton and the black man looked at each other with equal amusement in their eyes. “My name is Colton Johanson. Friends call me Colton Johanson. What would you prefer to call me? You have only one choice.”
“How about smart alec, after the exploits of one Alec Hoag.”
“I’m flattered. I didn’t know that came from a famous Alec. What was he famous for?”
“He was a con man and a pimp!”
“You can call me Colton.” They laughed and shook hands.
“So, Mr. nineteen year old wrangler, have you ever heard of a breed of horse called an Arabian?”
Colton burst out laughing.
“Why are you laughing, Alec?”
“It’s Colton, to you. And the rea
son I’m laughing is that I was born and raised on the number one Arabian farm in England, at Crabbet Park.”
“Oh, my Lord, this has got to be more than a coincidence. I emigrated from England myself about ten years ago. I know Crabbet Park well. I was raised by an English general who had served in South Africa when they suffered one of their biggest defeats at the hands of the Zulus.”
“The Zulus defeated the British?” asked Colton incredulously.
“Soundly. Over eight hundred British lost their lives. The British eventually gathered a large enough army to overpower the Zulus. In the ensuing battle, the village of my birth was overcome in a horrific engagement. I was one of the Zulu survivors.”
Colton leaned against a wooden rail. “You were a survivor of a war? How did you end up being raised by a general?”
“I was given to a General Novak by the king of the Zulus, Cetshwayo, who was captured and exiled to Cape Town. This gesture by the Zulu king obligated General Novak to treat me in an exemplary fashion and see that I received a top education. This Zulu tradition was a nation building one. It propagated emissaries throughout warring tribes until the various factions began to unite, rather than war with one’s own brother.”
“So, you’re a Zulu?” Colton asked with admiration.
“I am a descendant of the Zulus, but I’m afraid the noble traditions and courage that I scantly remember, have been subjugated to the might of bigger guns but smaller minds. The Zulus of my birth no longer exist.”
“How did you end up here in California?” Colton asked.
“I came to America and to California to breed Arabians. A visit to Crabbet Park with the General when I was twelve inspired me. The farm, the horses, and overall set up was so impressive. What most impressed me, however, was a woman horse trainer whom the General and Lord Blunt, co-owners of the breeding farm, were discussing, as we all watched her put a horse through its routines.”