A Bride for Tobias

by Linda Ellen

  After a bit, Pauline turned her head, her bottom lip clasped between her teeth as if she were contemplating something. He wondered what was on her mind, and was just about to ask when she queried softly, “Um…Tobias…I wanted to ask you… It hadn’t occurred to me until yesterday…but, do you have a sweetheart…or have an understanding with someone?”

  Quick to squash that thought, Toby shook his head. “Nope. Not here, and not back home.” Hmm, funny…I’m still thinking of Champaign as home and not this town where I grew up… “Besides, it wouldn’t have been right for me to offer my name in marriage to you if I was pledged to another. I’m not that kind of man.”

  “That’s good to know.” Seeming pleased with his response and the sincerity of his answer, she smiled and turned her attention to the windows of the shop they were passing—a ladies’ finery shop with hats displayed in the window.

  As they walked on, she turned her head and he felt her study his profile for a moment. “I thought you lived here…are you saying you’ve been living somewhere else?”

  He tipped his hat at a lady he didn’t know as they passed by, and then gave Pauline an answering nod.

  “Yep. I was born here, but I went to Champaign, Illinois when I was sixteen. My sister, Poppy…I mean Augusta…and I went to help our grandfather take care of our grandmother when she got sick.” He slid his gaze to hers and he raised one shoulder in a shrug. “When she died two years later, we just stayed on. Poppy fell in love and married, and my grandpa asked if I’d like to be one of his deputies. I said yes.”

  Listening thoughtfully, Pauline tugged her shawl around her and answered, “So, your grandfather is a sheriff?”

  Toby couldn’t help but grin at the thought of him. “Actually, he’s a U.S. marshal. Been the marshal of Champaign County, Illinois for the last twenty years. His name is Hampton Gibson. They call him the Wyatt Earp of Champaign. I’ve never known a tougher, braver man,” he added with a dose of pride.

  Pauline seemed suitably impressed with that, and, at her encouragement, Toby spent the next few minutes sharing anecdotes about his larger-than-life grandfather, the city and county of Champaign, and the highlights of his life there.

  They had reached the part of Main Street where it began its downward descent toward the river. The view from the spot was majestic, and one could see for miles in both directions, until the river turned in a gradual bend on the right.

  There, to one side, stood a huge, old oak, situated on the bluff overlooking the view, with a bench built around the base. For as long as he could remember, it had been the place in town where people sat to have private discussions or to just sit and rest with a good view of the river.

  Toby gestured toward the circular seat. “Would you like to sit for a spell?”

  They settled together, close enough that the edges of her pretty, lavender skirt brushed his trousers. It amazed him how his entire essence seemed inordinately aware of her proximity. What was it about this girl that affected him so? It was as if they had some sort of…powerful connection. But he was flummoxed to explain the phenomenon, even to himself, as he had never experienced anything like it with anyone, especially not a person of the female persuasion. With happy resolve, he decided to just sit back and enjoy it.

  For a while, they sat watching the river, the ferry, and other boats passing by. Over the span of just a few minutes, loud whistles from around the bend announced the arrival of several of the dozens of steamboats that stopped at the stone wharf on a daily basis before continuing on down the Missouri.

  The river trade was hopping, that’s for sure. It had tripled in the years since he’d been gone. Sam Maynard had mentioned Brownville gets a whopping twelve hundred steamboat dockings a month! Toby had thought the big lumberjack was exaggerating. Somehow, Toby hadn’t been able to wrap his mind around such a number—but sitting here watching how frequent were the landings, it was starting to seem like a reality.

  That was both good and bad, as river trade meant customers with money for the merchants as well as various kinds of visitors, many of which the town could do without. Thinking of that, he knew he should check in with Sheriff Dave and let him know where he was in case the need arose.

  Turning to the captivating woman sitting next to him, he asked, “So…what did you do back in Louisville? I mean…you told me about your father’s accident and how you, your sister, and your mother had to go to work, so…”

  She nodded before turning to lock eyes with him for a moment. “I was employed as a tutor for the Simmons’ youngest son, Frederick. He’s seven. He’d suffered a bad case of scarlet fever and it left him too weak to go to school or play like other boys his age. I went to their home every day and gave him his lessons, read to him…” she paused and he figured she was thinking about the boy as a fond smile graced her soft lips. “I miss him. He’s a sweet boy, and an attentive student. I suppose they’ll find another tutor,” she whispered, a frown creasing her brow.

  Then with a wistful huff, she admitted, “Truthfully, I’m not sure what to do with myself here. I’m accustomed to getting up early, helping with my twin sisters, and then going to work…”

  An idea instantly popped into Toby’s mind—a way to help her feel like Brownville was home and hopefully help entice her to stay…

  “We have several schools—a primary, a grammar school, a secondary school, and the Sabbath school. I bet one of them would need a good tutor or teacher’s helper. We could ask,” he offered eagerly.

  The responding smile she blessed him with made him feel ten feet tall, and better than the greatest accomplishment in his life thus far.

  For the love of Pete! How could I have it this bad for her this soon? I gotta get this girl to fall for me, or I’m doomed. Already, the thought of their brand-new marriage being annulled and her going back to her life in Louisville—and eventually marrying another man—set his teeth on edge.

  “I’d love that, Tobias. Do you know who I should talk to about it?”

  No, he didn’t. But he determined then and there that he would find out for her. “I’ll check into it,” he answered with assurance.

  She opened her mouth to answer when activity behind them caught their attention and they turned to see several of the women from yesterday’s welcome committee were headed their way.

  Toby figured their time alone had come to an end for the present, and as the ladies came up and surrounded Pauline, he stood and touched the tip of his hat.

  “Well, I’d better go check in with the sheriff. I’ll leave you to visit with the ladies. See you later,” he mumbled.

  With the women fluttering around her, she was barely able to get in a reply.

  He crammed his Stetson further down on his head and aimed his boots toward the jail. He had plans to make. Plans that could not fail.

  Several minutes later, Toby doffed his hat as he walked in the door of the sheriff’s office.

  Sheriff Dave looked up from the new wanted posters he was perusing and flashed him a large grin.

  “I didn’t think you’d come to work today. Not with a pretty new wife to get to know.”

  Toby felt his face flame, but before the sheriff could see it and poke fun, he turned aside, flung his Stetson onto a peg, pleased that he hit it bullseye, and busied himself with pouring a cup of the man’s good coffee.

  “We took a walk earlier. Talked a bit. We’re getting to know one another,” he mumbled before sipping the hot brew.

  “Heard Iris put her in the room right next to yours in the house,” the sheriff admitted with a sly snicker. “She’s a looker, I’ll say that. She say how long she’ll have to stay here…or how long you and she will have to stay married?”

  Toby took a big gulp of coffee and turned around to face his new boss. “Nope. I don’t think she knows. She’ll just bide her time until she hears from home and then skedaddle.”

  The sheriff eyed him nonchalantly, as if he knew Toby was making plans. Toby cleared his throat and tried to supp
ress a grin. “Unless…”

  A slow grin took over the sheriff’s face followed by a wolfish chuckle. “Unless by then she has a reason to stay? Something or someone to stay for?”

  Toby huffed out a laugh of agreement. “Something like that.”

  Oh yeah. I need plans, that’s for sure.

  “Um, hey, boss…who would she talk to about getting a job at one of the schools? She said back in Louisville she was a tutor for a seven-year-old boy…”

  Sheriff Dave ruminated over the sudden change of subject. “Well now, I’m not sure. But I’ll ask around for ya. For now, though, I need you to take a stroll over to the Lucky Buck and check on a couple of gambler types that came in on this morning’s train. Lay down the law. Let ‘em know we mean business and we take a dim view of card sharks and cheaters.”

  “Sure thing, Sheriff,” Toby acquiesced as he gulped down the rest of his coffee before fixing his hat back on and heading out, whistling Camptown Races as he went.

  Chapter 7

  A s jovial conversation flowed around her at the table in the large dining room, Pauline sat back in her chair and took a moment to appreciate the Larson’s pleasant home. The long oval table comfortably seated all eight diners.

  A good-sized wood stove on the hall side of the room nicely heated the space, making the room cozy and lent itself to combating the wet elements that were currently evident through the sheer lace curtains of the floor to ceiling windows. Attractive striped wallpaper adorned the walls and a woven carpet with designs in shades of magenta and gold softened the floor. Glancing down, Pauline ran her finger over the gold-embellished white China service, musing that everything about the boarding house was somehow elegant and cozy at the same time.

  The house was lovely inside and out, and so large and roomy, with its three distinct sections—vastly different from what I was accustomed to back home.

  Indeed—her bedroom upstairs was bigger than the room she had shared with her three sisters in their home in Louisville. Although her family didn’t live in the poorest part of town, they hadn’t been wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. The house in which she had grown up was an aptly named shotgun style dwelling on Sixth Street, meaning the living room, two bedrooms, and kitchen at the rear were aligned so that all of the rooms and doorways would enable a straight shot, although why one would wish to do such a thing was something which Pauline had always puzzled over. She’d heard somewhere that the actual reason for such a design was that since the homes were narrow and close together, it helped to block frigid winds and keep heat in them in winter.

  Her family, like others on the block, kept a metal tub out on the covered back porch, which they would drag into the kitchen in order to use for washing clothes or taking baths. The facilities consisted of an outhouse in the fenced backyard. However, they did have running water at the kitchen sink, a service provided a mere few months previous by the up and coming Louisville Water Company, but the house was too small to have a dedicated bathing room.

  This house, by contrast, was one of the largest in Brownville, and sported indoor bathing facilities. According to what some of the welcoming committee ladies had shared, it was only in recent years that the Larsons had opened their home up to boarders; since Ada Larson—Iris’ mother—had tragically passed away in a carriage accident that had also severely injured John. Now, the Larson patriarch found himself hampered in his ability to work.

  Pauline shifted her gaze to the man of the house, seated at the end of the table, the expression on his face indicating he was having trouble following the lively conversations swirling around him. Those that had found the wrecked vehicle and the unconscious driver deduced that he had apparently hit his head when he’d been thrown from the carriage, and now he seemed to have problems concentrating. His children had spent a small fortune sending him to specialists back East in the hopes of his complete recovery.

  John, until his accident, had operated one of the banks in town, but the day-to-day tasks had fallen to his two sons, John Jr., and Stanley. Both were married with homes and families of their own. Everyone hoped John would soon be well enough to resume normal interactions and responsibilities. At times, however, Pauline noticed Iris had to tell her father things two and three times to get him to remember or understand. Pauline could see the devoted daughter was doing all she could to keep herself, her father, and their home afloat—as she most certainly would have done if she’d had the chance following her own father’s accident.

  To Pauline, the Larson house seemed like a mansion. Indeed, it was nearly as large as the Simmons’ mansion back home, but without the impressive gilt and marble decorations, not to mention the velvet furnishings.

  Bringing her attention back to the tête-à-tête at the table, she smiled politely and answered a question from Mrs. Haggler about the climate in Louisville. Then during a lull in the chatter, Pauline glanced at her husband and found him watching her. She smiled, a bit shyly, and he returned the gesture, his grin an answering light that traveled up and infused those blue eyes with an irresistible beam.

  Impulsively, Pauline leaned closer to him, touching his arm lightly as she offered, “I wanted to thank you, again, Tobias, for helping me today. I spoke with Mr. Hewett and he said they did, indeed, need a teacher’s helper at the grammar school…at least until the end of the term,” she said, referring to Obadiah B. Hewett, director of the school board for Nemaha County. Toby had been quick to provide the contact with which to secure the position.

  Once they had a moment alone, she planned to tell him Mr. Hewett had offered her twenty-five dollars a month! Why, back home, Mr. Simmons had only paid her fifteen, but that did include a nice lunch each day and very pleasant working conditions. Plus, she’d only had one student on which to concentrate her attentions.

  “I was glad to help…glad it worked out,” Tobias murmured.

  “Ah, that sounds perfect, Mrs. Keller,” Iris enjoined.

  “Yes, it is. He said for me to report to work on Mond—” Pauline stopped short as she and everyone at the table heard a woman’s piercing scream. It sounded like it came from the street just in front of the house!

  Before anyone could blink, Tobias was up and headed toward the entry. Pauline’s eyes followed him like a magnet toward the entrance as he checked his gun, his movements swift and sure. He then took a look through the lace curtains to assess the situation. Opening one of the double doors, he surveyed the area with quick turns of his head before charging out, gun drawn and at the ready.

  The others had leapt to their feet and now everyone barreled after him, only to stop short at the open portal when he ordered over his shoulder, “Everyone stay inside!”

  Pauline grasped the wood frame of the entryway to stop her forward motion, her eyes tracking her husband’s every move. Her heart pounded in her chest with fear for his safety, all the while chastising herself with phrases like… You ninny, he’s a trained lawman, he knows what he’s doing. He’s being careful, and we don’t even know if there is danger or if the woman just fell…Tobias must think there is danger…or maybe he’s just cautious…

  They could all clearly see, lying in the middle of the wet street, a young-looking woman—at least Pauline thought it was a woman, mainly because of the long, dark hair splayed on the ground around her head—but she was dressed in men’s clothing! Few people were out and about, possibly due to the chilly drizzle and Pauline figured most sensible people were probably at home having their dinner. But with a quick glance around, she could see the curtains in a few of the windows moving as people looked out at the action in the street.

  Then, Pauline plainly heard the woman cry out, “I’ve been stabbed! I’ve been stabbed! And he took my money!”

  As she watched, Pauline’s new husband wasted no time in doing what needed to be done. He had crouched down next to the woman, doubtless to gauge her condition, and then slipped his gun back into his holster, quickly scooped her up, and headed to the establishment across the s
treet—the Star Hotel. The two disappeared inside, followed quickly by a crowd of people.

  Where did all these people come from? Pauline wondered as she and her fellow boarders hurriedly donned hats, parasols, and shawls as protection from the inclement weather, and hurried out to join their neighbors. Voices bantered back and forth, “Who is she?” “I hope she’s all right.” “Did you see what happened?” “No, I only heard her scream.”

  When she and the others reached the porch of the hotel, they could already hear snippets of remarks being made evidently by witnesses to the crime.

  “There was a young man with her. They seemed to be walking together, up from the river crossing—maybe they arrived on the steamboat J. Houston that docked earlier—and suddenly they were having some sort of a confrontation. She fell, he bent over her, and then ran off, back down the hill toward the river. That’s when she started screamin’.”

  “Does anybody know who she is, or who he is?”

  “I never laid eyes on them before.”

  “Is she hurt bad?”

  “Donno. Somebody ran for Doc Reeves.”

  “Is she dyin’?” someone asked as the people in the back tried to peer over the heads and shoulders of the ones in front.

  “I don’t think so. She’s movin’ around…”

  “Doc’s here, let him through. Let him through, people!” a man ordered. Pauline moved over as far as she could, peeking past another lady’s shoulder as a man with an overcoat, wet from the rain, hat pulled down over his head, and a physician’s bag in hand, elbowed his way through.

  Following suit, Pauline managed to squirm her way inside, quickly scanning the faces until she found Tobias.

  He was standing next to the girl, talking with another man whom Pauline recognized as the sheriff, while a woman Pauline didn’t know was kneeling next to the duvet on which the girl was seated. The woman was holding a folded towel to the girl’s lower leg, blood was apparent.

  They had torn her pant leg away from the area where she had been stabbed, how horrible, and Pauline’s eyes widened when she saw a good amount of the young woman’s calf—nearly up to her knee—exposed for all to see. Glancing at the girl’s face, Pauline experienced the quick impression that the exhibition wasn’t bothering her in the least. Well…perhaps she’s in a lot of pain and isn’t thinking about modesty…