In the bustling summer of 1870, nestled amidst the clapboard houses and cobblestone streets of the East Coast, lived Carla Davis, a woman whose heart was tender and her spirit quietly determined. Her closest companions were not human but rather a pair of sprightly Chihuahuas who, for five long years, had been her steadfast confidants. From morning's first light to the gentle hush of dusk, these diminutive dogs scampered at her heels, their eyes sparkling with devotion.

At twenty-seven, an age when whispers about spinsterhood began to trail her like a shadow, Carla resolved to take a bold step into her future. She envisioned a new life as a mail order bride in the vast, gilded hills of Northern California. The very thought made her heart flutter with equal parts excitement and trepidation. The journey ahead appeared as daunting as it was promising, made more complex by the logistics of traveling with her tiny charges in tow. Questions swirled through her mind—would there be trains that accommodated pets? How would they fare on the long stretches of iron track snaking across an entire continent?