Grooms with Honor Series, Books 1-3

by Linda K. Hubalek

  "I already guessed your heritage, and it doesn't matter one whit to me. I wouldn't care if your skin were light purple and your hair bright blue. No woman, innocent or not, should ever be hurt.

  “So why were you traveling with Morris?”

  “My half-brother owed Morris a large sum of money that his inheritance couldn’t cover, so he sold me to him.”

  “That’s not legal.”

  Iris temple thumped with tension. “Fergus, slavery continues in the South, even though it’s been twenty-some years since Lincoln set us free.”

  Fergus leaned forward to stare at her. “Us?”

  She barely nodded her head at his question. “My mother was a light-skinned slave—and—my father was her owner.”

  Fergus didn’t say anything right away after her confession. Her words had shocked him.

  “Did he claim you as his daughter?”

  Iris looked out the side window, remembering being in the presence of her father many times, but he never formally acknowledged they were related. “Not really. I just was an increase in his property. The mark on the back of my neck proves that.”

  “So what did your mother do after she was free?”

  Iris shook her head. Free? It didn’t work that way for so many slave women. “She had no money or home, so she continued to work on the plantation until she died.”

  “How old were you then, and what did you do?”

  “Sixteen. Continued as a house servant.” A servant in my own home.

  “Is your father still living?”

  “No. He passed within the past year. My half-brother and his bride moved in and I—was a reminder of the plantation’s past. Paying a debt to Morris with a piece of my brother’s inherited ‘property’ was a way to get rid of me and clear his debt.”

  "That’s illegal. Your brother should have paid his debt with cash or a promissory note.”

  “Well he didn’t,” Iris sadly replied, thinking of the shock of her half-brother’s announcement she was to marry a man almost twice her age.

  “So where was your destination?” Fergus asked next.

  “Morris and I were on our way to San Francisco to marry and to have a month-long honeymoon, before returning to Louisville.

  “Morris was nice at first, and I thought the marriage could work—until he turned mean and demanding. I had no way to get away from Morris—until I jumped off the train.”

  “So now you have a fresh start, a chance to turn your life around."

  Just like that? Turn your life around? Did the man think she wouldn't do exactly that if she could?

  Fergus stepped back, because her face had to look as if she was about to explode.

  "And how am I to do that with no money nor a place to go? And a man hunting me down too?"

  Fergus opened his mouth but she waved her hand in the air to cut him off.

  "I was trying to kill myself because I didn't want that man ever touching me again! And I was out of options! This wasn't the first time I've tried to get away from him, but it was supposed to be the last!"

  Fergus interrupted her hysterical ranting by showing his upraised palms.

  "As I said before, you are welcome to travel with me to Kansas. Once we get to Clear Creek you can stay with my parents until you decide what to do."

  Iris was stunned at his offer. "They'd accept a mulatto into their family home?"

  "Who do you think taught me it was the right thing to always help any woman, even if her hair was bright blue?" Fergus cocked his head, trying to defuse her distress.

  "The parsonage and my parents have given temporary shelter to more people over the years than I could count on my fingers and my toes. I'd swear on my Bible that you'd be welcomed with open arms. But I’ll warn you, my ma loves to smother people, but in a good way."

  The thought of being safe for the first time in weeks was overwhelming, but could she trust this man she'd only known for a few days?

  "I plan to continue taking photographs on my way to Kansas and I already mentioned I needed an assistant. You'd be seeing people nearly every day and if you didn't feel safe with me, you could ask for their help."

  "Morris will still be looking for me, and an unmarried woman with a traveling man will be reported by someone.”

  Fergus reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a gold ring tied in the center of a rolled up piece of a navy blue ribbon. He untied the ring from the ribbon and held the gold band in front of her.

  “But ‘Mrs. Reagan’ will be traveling with ‘Mr. Reagan’, not the woman he’s looking for.”

  Chapter 5

  Iris eyes widened and she stepped back until her spine pressed against the row of drawers that lined the front interior of the wagon.

  Fergus’ mind still reeled with the story of Iris' parentage, but he was serious about helping her.

  "Why do you have a ring?" Iris whispered, almost looking as scared as when she thought Morris was going to find her in the wagon.

  "I bought a ring at the general store when I bought supplies. If you were traveling with me, it would be best to be married. It’s also an insurance since Morris wouldn’t be looking for a married woman."

  "You want to marry me?"

  Whoa, whoa, she's not thinking along the same line as me.

  "Uh, no... You could wear the ring to pretend we're married, so you could safely travel with me."

  "Would you expect marital rights if I wore your ring?"

  All of a sudden, it was too warm inside the wagon. Fergus stepped back until his shoulders thumped the back wall. Even though they were on opposite ends of the wagon, they were still only about five feet apart.

  "No. Absolutely not. Never even thought of that!"

  Golly. He bet his face was so red and flushed; he could boil the stew on his forehead tonight instead of lighting the stove.

  Fergus took a deep breath. "When I officially ask a woman to be my wife, I'll say the whole wedding vow to her, 'for richer, poorer, sickness and health', etcetera, besides promising my love and heart to her."

  He held up the ring he still had between his thumb and index finger. "If I put this ring on your finger, it would be my promise to keep you safe and to honor your wishes. It wouldn't be a pledge in front of a minister, only my solemn vow to protect you."

  Iris rubbed her left temple now as she did last night. Her thoughts had to be so jumbled. To go through who knows what with Morris, then trying to take her life to end her misery. And then a stranger gives her a ring and promises to protect her?

  "I just stopped the wagon to talk to you for a moment. We'll travel further to find a homesteader's place or a campsite along a creek for the night."

  What should he do with the ring since she wasn't reaching for it or the idea to pretend they were married?

  "Please put the ring in your reticule. Even if you decide not to wear it, it's yours. Consider it money in gold if you have to buy or bargain for something."

  "Fergus, I don't know what to say."

  "I was raised to be a Good Samaritan, Iris. My only motive is to keep you safe, not to take advantage of you in any way.

  "Well except to help me with my photography," Fergus sheepishly added, while raising his shoulders to admit he could use the help.

  "Please take this ring, Iris. I bought it for you." He held the ring out and she finally opened her palm up to take it.

  "It's very pretty, Fergus. I've never owned any jewelry." The gold band barely caught the light it was so thin. Now he wished he had bought a fancier band for her finger. He was thinking cheap, not how it would represent his supposed love to people they were trying to fool.

  "I'm sorry I'm hesitating, Fergus. You've been nothing but kind to me. It's just that I've never met a man I could trust."

  Never? And she was in her mid-twenties? "Haven't you had anyone court you, or ask for your hand in marriage? Surely those would have been men you could trust."

  She sniffed, but plump tears still swelled in the corners of her eye
s.

  “No. Around home, I was too white to marry a Negro. And I have tainted blood, so no white man would consider me for his wife, only his mistress.”

  She looked so pained, beaten down, and to the breaking point, again.

  Fergus held out his hands, trying to soothe her and give her something else to cling to than her panicking misery.

  "I swear you are safe with me, Iris, and I promise to protect you if you want to travel with me to Kansas.”

  The wagon moved a bit, reminding Fergus the horse was still hitched to the wagon. He watched Iris fight her mental demons, and wondered what he had gotten himself into. But he would have saved and protected her if he had to do it over.

  “All right. I’ll accept your ride to Kansas.”

  "Do you want to ride with me up front, or stay here in the back of the wagon?"

  Maybe the fresh air and country scenery would give her a sense of safety if she sat outside on the driver's bench.

  “I need to step outside for a minute, but then I’d prefer to be out of sight.”

  “That’s fine. I’m sure the swaying of the wagon will lull you to sleep. Your body needs more rest.”

  Fergus reached behind him to open the door and descended the steps to get out of Iris’ way. He wished he could give her the comfort of a hug, but she’d panic if he wrapped his arms around her.

  ***

  Iris was instantly alert as she heard voices outside. She strained to hear their words, but the voices were friendly, almost excited.

  "Missy, open the door. We've graciously been asked to stay with a family tonight." The muffled words against the doorframe reassured her it was all right to open the door.

  Iris hadn’t slept while they traveled; instead, she stared at the ring Fergus had given her and thought about her predicament. She thought jumping off the train would settle her problem, but it didn’t.

  But she’d accepted Fergus’ offer of a safe passage to Kansas. So far, he’d proven to be an honorable man and she felt safe with him.

  With shaky hands, she slid the band on her left ring finger, and then rubbed it with her thumb. It was a little big, but not so much it would fall off her finger if she dropped her hand.

  She took her cloak off the hook where it had been hanging and slung it over her shoulders. With only a moment’s hesitation, Iris unlocked and opened the door.

  Iris searched for Fergus' face first but she was immediately drawn to the smiling faces of a family, a man and woman in their late thirties, and five blonde boys stair-stepping down in size who matched their father's features.

  Was the crude earth structure behind them their home?

  The slaves' quarters on the plantation were in better shape than this family's house.

  "Missy," Iris noticed Fergus had his hand stretched out to help her down the steps to meet the family. She hesitated a moment for the first touch of Fergus' hand, or anyway the first one she'd remembered.

  The warm grasp gave her strength to face the family.

  "Missy, this is Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Piper and their boys. This is my wife, Mrs. Missy Reagan."

  The woman stepped forward, excitement in her face. "It's so good to have a woman to visit with, even if it's only for an evening."

  Iris cringed as the woman grasped her hand and squeezed it. She wasn't used to people being friendly towards her.

  "My wife, uh, Missy, has been a little under the weather. The evening before last her cloak tripped her as she stepped over the wagon tongue and she hit her temple on the wagon wheel. Knocked her out cold, so she's been sleeping a lot while she recovers."

  Iris stared up at Fergus, amazed how easily he’d explained her bruised temple.

  Wait. Why did he call her Missy? Oh, so no one knew her real name. They hadn't discussed it, but it was better he didn't call her Iris when they were around anyone.

  He must have rehearsed his story about the bruise on the side of her head too.

  "Oh you poor dear! Let's go inside and I'll brew you a cup of chamomile tea. You're bound to have a headache, seeing the size of the bruise on your temple."

  The woman wrapped an arm around Iris’ middle, guiding her to the house as if she was an invalid.

  "Toby, open the door for us, then go help your brothers with chores."

  The young boy did as he was told and scampered off to the barn.

  Iris stood still a second inside the sod house to let her eyes adjust to the dim light coming from one glass-paned window and an oil lamp on the table. The outside walls were layers of sod and dirt laid like bricks to form the walls, but the interior of the one-room home had been plastered smooth and whitewashed, as if trying to add more light and the feeling of space in the room. Which would be hard since the table and chairs took up most of the room's space. There was only a path between the chairs and the row of trunks along the walls, which probably held all their possessions. A cook stove, taking up a large space, was situated against the left wall and a crude stand of shelves perpendicular held the women's cooking supplies.

  Tattered sheets hung in the middle of room, giving two beds a hint of privacy behind them. Seven people lived in this cramped space.

  Iris’ brightly lit bedroom in the upstairs servant’s quarters in the plantation house was a palatial suite compared to this rough room.

  “Let me take your cloak and you make yourself at home.” Mrs. Piper patiently waited for Iris to slide the cloak off her shoulders and hand it to the woman. She slipped through the sheets, laying the cloak on one of the beds.

  “Please sit down while I unpack my teapot. It’s been ages since I’ve had the chance to use it.”

  Iris watched as Mrs. Piper opened one trunk, then another before she reached in to pull out a cloth wrapped parcel.

  “You don’t need to go to such trouble—”

  “Believe me, it’s a treat to use my good china teapot and cups, even if it’s only for an afternoon tea. Tinware is the best with five young boys, so my breakable dishes are stored away for now. Someday when we have a real house and parlor again—and neighbors to visit with—I will use my china again.”

  Mrs. Piper poured a little hot water from the teapot on the stove into the ceramic teapot and swirled around the water to warm the container.

  “I assume you like chamomile tea?” Mrs. Piper asked as she reached for a small tin on the shelf behind the stove.

  “Oh, yes, anything hot would be welcomed.”

  Mrs. Piper filled a metal tea ball with loose tea leaves, set the ball in the pot, and added hot water to fill the china pot. Then she set a blue patterned china cup and saucer in front of Iris, and another set across the table where she was going sit.

  Next, she set out a plate of biscuits, a small crock of butter and a glass jar of an orange-colored jam.

  “Please tell me about your travels. Your husband said you’re from Kansas, but up here in Nebraska taking homestead portraits while your studio is being built.” Mrs. Piper glanced between Iris and the teacups she was pouring the steaming hot tea into.

  What should Iris say? This was the first homestead she’d been to with Fergus so she didn’t have a clue how many places he’d stopped at while touring the area.

  “Uh, we’ve wandered around this area, but I couldn’t tell you how many places we’ve stopped. The days have kind of blurred together.”

  “When will you be heading home?”

  At least she could answer that question. “Fergus’ brother is marrying the middle of this month, so we plan to be home by the twelfth of November.” Home? The word pinged her heart. It hurt to think of the home she left behind. But why, when she had planned her demise so she never had to go home again?

  Iris wanted the conversation moved away from her. “And where was home for you before homesteading in Nebraska?”

  “A little village near Columbus, Ohio. We decided to start over someplace new,” Mrs. Piper shrugged her shoulders but looked uncomfortable talking about it.

  “Wasn’t it hard t
o leave everything behind?” Iris imagined the family had a wooden or brick home, friends and family nearby…

  “Yes, but it was a new start for us.” Mrs. Piper looked down at her hands clamped around the teacup. “Ronald was accused of something he didn’t do. Even after he was cleared in the trial…we couldn’t stay there.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Iris gave her sympathy because she knew how life could be unfair.

  “Well, I’m making the best of it. My husband and the boys love it out here and we’ll survive.” Mrs. Piper took a deep breath, straightened her shoulder, and smiled.

  “Now, if you feel up to it, please tell me anything and everything you’ve heard while traveling around. I’m dying for news.”

  *

  "Will they survive the winter?" Iris’ breath clouded the cold air when she asked Fergus the question that had been on her mind since they left the Piper's homestead this morning.

  She couldn't imagine living in a hole in the ground after Fergus described the winter blizzards they could expect at any time.

  "Dugouts are the warmest place to live in the winter, so they'll be okay, as long as they have food, water and don't wander out in the blinding storm."

  Their evening was spent with the family, in the cramped quarters of the dugout. Mrs. Piper served rabbit stew, biscuits with Sandhill plum jelly, and a pie made from dried apples. It was different food than she grew up with, but it was good.

  Iris retired to the wagon long before Fergus did, and he was out of the wagon when she woke this morning. He’d been sleeping on the floor beneath the sleeping bunk, using their outer garments as his pillow and blanket.

  Mrs. Piper insisted they eat breakfast with the family, and Iris ate the biscuits and milk gravy out of courtesy, even though she didn't have much of an appetite.

  After the meal, the men carried two chairs outside of the dugout for the family portrait. Other than Mrs. Piper putting on her good dress, no one else changed clothes. The parents sat on the chairs while their children stood around them. Their dog wandered into the picture just as Fergus squeezed the shutter. Hopefully the dog wouldn't show up as a smear of gray in the portrait.