A Spinster in the West
Katie Lockwood & Emma Maas
A Spinster in the West
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
A teaser from “To Win his Heart”
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Chapter 1
Kitty was boiling a load of white linens in the backyard when Eunice—a brunette who was raised in the Chicago orphanage by the Sisters of Mercy like Kitty—came rushing out with wide eyes and flailing arms.
“Mother Superior is on her way,” she said, trying to keep her voice low.
“Oh.” Kitty’s hands didn’t seem to know what to do next, drenched in water and holding the washboard. “That’s rather odd.” She tilted her head. “She almost never comes unannounced.”
Leaning closer with a whisper, Eunice shrugged. “Paper Peter told me she may be coming here to speak to us.”
“Us meaning?” Kitty narrowed her eyes.
She hissed with a warning tone. “Those who’ve crossed over their teens.”
“Right.” She nodded, not wanting to divulge her true feelings.
After all, Eunice loved to gossip and told all the nuns about everyone’s business. She simply couldn’t keep a secret.
“Well,” Eunice abruptly straightened up, “I’d better get ready and I suggest you do the same.” Her eyes quickly scanned Kitty’s water-stained frock. “You could use a dry gown.”
Lightening up the mood, Kitty playfully splashed some water in Eunice’s direction as the latter ran away laughing. When she was finally alone, she let out a long, deep exhale.
While she was grateful for everything that the nuns at Sisters of Mercy had done for her, she was not exactly sure of what she wanted next.
Kitty Blume was the name the nuns had given her when they found her outside the orphanage gates, merely a three-day-old baby abandoned at the entrance one mild Chicago winter’s night.
Since that day, the Sisters of Mercy had shown her nothing but exactly that—mercy. With God’s faith in their hearts and a steadfast calling in their minds, the nuns raised orphan girls with the word of the Lord and the teachings of Jesus Christ.
Knowing that Eunice was right, Kitty pushed herself up and left the bedsheets to soak in the wooden tub while she made her way to her room.
When she stepped in, she realized that her roommate, Jezebel, must have already beaten her and changed. Her work frock was laid out on the bed, and her good necktie was missing from the hook on the wall behind the door.
As Kitty proceeded to untie her wet apron, she stood in front of the mirror and gazed upon her own reflection. Her green eyes were surrounded by slightly dark circles—the effect of the recent sleepless nights she had been spending.
Ever since her nineteenth birthday, Kitty had been agonizing over this very day. The moment when Mother Superior made a list of the girls approaching the age of twenty.
The defining birthday upon which—according to the Sisters of Mercy rules—they needed to resolve. A decision was to be made by those young women who grew up learning of nothing but caregiving, obedience, and sacrifice.
It was all good and well, Kitty would never deny that. After all, it was they who practically saved her life, thanks to their unwavering selflessness and devotion. It was, indeed, their faith that propelled them forward, urging them to help the less fortunate souls who otherwise would be lost.
Something, however, within Kitty’s mind prevented her from wanting that same life they had chosen. To officially enter the Catholic Sisterhood—while noble an endeavor as it was—meant no chance for…
“You’re still here?” Jezebel’s voice interrupted her train of thought, rudely pulling her back into the moment. “Do you need help with that?” She stepped closer and behind, pulling the belt around Kitty’s waist.
“Jezebel, how old are you now?” Kitty tried to strip all pensiveness from her tone as her eye’s met her roommates in the old, cracked full-length mirror.
She coyly smiled, a touch of enthusiasm in her titter. “I’ll be eighteen in the fall.”
“Exciting, huh?”
“Of course.” She tied the ribbon in a knot as her eyes rolled up dreamily. “To get one step closer to giving myself to God and Jesus. I can’t wait.”
Not wanting to discourage the enthusiastic blonde helping her out, Kitty adopted a serious expression. “Of course, but you know—” She paused, forging a contemplative look. “I hope you’ve thought long and hard about it.”
“How do you mean?” She tilted her head, mindlessly smoothing the back of Kitty’s dress and tugging on the skirt from under the belt.
“It’s a decision that you can’t take back.” Kitty turned around to face Jezebel, sweetly smiling as her fingers brushed away a stray golden lock on her friend’s forehead. “You can, indeed, want to help others the way everyone here helped you. In the name of God. But before that, you must know, in your heart, that you don’t mind going through life this way. No husband. No children of your own. No adventure of any sort.”
Jezebel’s smile didn’t falter.
“Are you certain that you’re willing to do that, Jezebel?”
Her eyelids fluttered as though in a dream. “More than anything, because that’s not how I see it, dear Kitty.” She took a few steps back until she softly sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ll be married to my faith. The poor orphans in this temple will be my children, all of them. And my adventure lies within the days and hours of me trying to plant the seeds of God’s love into the hearts of those who found no fortune outside of these walls.”
“Oh, dear.” Kitty sighed in awe, resting her back against the door. “You truly do want this, don’t you?” She smiled.
Jezebel’s smile faded a touch as she tilted her head with a concerned look in her eyes. “Don’t you?”
Deciding to change her demeanor, Kitty suddenly let out a laugh that came out more nervous than she had intended. “Well, I can assure you that at your age, two years ago, I hadn’t the slightest idea of what I wanted my life to look like.”
She quickly turned, looking for her necktie as a way of distraction. She could feel Jezebel’s eyes as they fixated on her, following her every move.
Yes, she had no idea what she wanted when she was eighteen. She still had no idea now, with a few exceptions.
Kitty knew that she was not cut out for a life of obedience and sacrifice. She respected the Sisters, but she did not want to become one of them. She believed in God, but she didn’t believe that there was only one way to live.
And most of all, she knew that if she truly wanted to worship the Lord the way he deserved, she had to experience the life he had given her with a fuller, more knowing perspective.
Chapter 2
Bert woke up at the crack of dawn as always, ate some breakfast, and quickly left the house to attend to the long day’s work ahead.
His ranch estate extended vast and glorious in the middle of Oklahoma—known on that side of the country as the best land in the region, grazed by one of the finest herds of beef cattle.
With such great blessings came great responsibility.
Approaching his twenty-eighth year, Bert Biggum had not only paid his dues, but he was also employing a significant number of ranch hands to help run his acreage. Many families depended on him, even though he was yet to start hi
s own.
Born not long before the fateful beginning of the civil war in 1861, Bert had missed the opportunity of working alongside his dogmatic father on the family’s sugar plantations further south.
The war had taken its toll on his family, first by leaving his mother widowed and him and his sisters fatherless, then by slowly stripping away the rest of their resources.
Over the years, after his father’s death, Bert’s family had to endure the taxing trials and tribulations of surviving without a man in the house. The young boy, at a very early age, had to witness the utter inhumane disrespect with which his mother and older sisters were treated.
Things were going rough, but in the least, they were going. That was until the plantation was plundered, usurped, and then burnt to the ground.
Knowing what it was like to grow up with nothing, Bert was adamant about never having to live like that again.
After years of working whatever jobs he could find, helping out at nearby barns, ranches and plantations nearby, Bert made sure that his sisters were married and that his mother was satisfied living with the eldest.
And in 1889, he made a decision that was to change his entire life forever.
Intent on making a success of the rest of his years, twenty-seven-year-old Bert Biggum had taken his horse and headed for the Oklahoma territory, where Washington was to open two million acres of unoccupied lands for settlement.
On the twenty-second of April, as tens of thousands of settlers, ranchers and cattlemen stood ready at the border like runners at a starting line, Bert understood that it was not going to be a matter of luck. He knew that he was riding a fleet-footed steed.
All he had to do was focus.
As the sun took the center of everything above, high noon marked the signal that was given by the army's guns and bugles. The mad dash ensued to stake land claims in the event later known as the Land Rush of 1889.
Aiming for some of the best unoccupied public lands in the United States at the time, Bert’s keen eye and cooperative stallion earned him the best plot.
The horde of desperate riders on horses and in wagons soon dispersed into a medley of motion, dust, dogs, cattle, and wheels. The frenzied competition for land was wild and relentless, leading to inevitable bouts of chaos and disorder.
Bert watched as the less fortunate contestants spread out like a fan, far and wide to the horizon and beyond. The rush did not last long, and by the end of the day, nearly all of the plots had been claimed.
On that very day in Oklahoma City, Norman and Guthrie were born. Sure as it was, at twelve noon that Monday, the resident population of Guthrie was zero. By sundown, it had numbered at ten thousand at the very least.
“Good mornin’, Mister Biggum,” one of his ranch men greeted him.
“Mornin’ Earl, how’s your day lookin’?”
“Ain’t no rest for the wicked, boss.” He grinned, revealing a gap where one of his teeth once existed. “We got ‘em hay folk comin’ down later.”
“Well, if you need a hand, Clarence knows all ‘bout it.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
As he rode on along the meadows leading up to the big holding pen, Bert’s eyes scanned his surroundings in appreciation. His mind took him back to the day right after he had won his plot.
He recalled how he went riding as the sun rose on the eastern horizon. The streets were already being laid out, lots were staked within the town, and he had heard someone say that the makings of a municipal government were already in place.
In awe and slight disbelief, Bert witnessed Guthrie while it took shape as a proper town. Within just two weeks, it had already started running its own schools, manned by volunteer teachers.
By the time it was a month old, Oklahoma City had boasted five banks and six newspapers up and running, thanks, in a large measure, to the twelve thousand residents it had already adopted.
By the dawn of 1890, some sixty-two thousand settlers had become residents of what was previously known as the Unassigned Lands.
My land. Bert thought to himself as he sat tall atop his loyal charger, gazing over the fertile acres of his making.
Proud of what he had accomplished in such a short period of time, Bert knew that luck was somehow by his side. Of course, it took months and months of endless sweat and tears and sleepless nights. But in the greater scheme of things, many had exerted equal amounts of effort yet did not reach the same peaks of success upon which he rose.
Pushed forth by satisfaction and determination, Bert took on the hours ahead as the workday unfolded.
Between supervising his cowmen, making sure that feeding and cleaning were done according to schedule, as well as ensuring veterinary visits were up to date, Bert’s morning was full.
In the afternoon, after eating some lunch with Chuck Masters, his head foreman, Earl, and the rest of the men at the barn, Bert rode on to check on the herds and examine the enclosures before going back into his shed and attending to some paperwork that awaited.
Before he left the men, Chuck approached. “Listen, the doc’s comin’ again later to check on Lola.”
“She alright?” He furrowed his eyebrows. Lola was one of the pregnant cows.
“Yeah, yeah. Pregnancy’s makin’ her iffy. You wanna be there?”
“Do you need me there?”
He shrugged. “Nah. Just thought I’d let you know.”
“I’ll see you tonight. Tell me what he says.”
“You got it.”
Bert loved the life he was leading; it provided him with everything he had ever dreamed of—the security of a sizeable estate, a significant number of loyal workers, and well-earned respect from everyone in town.
He couldn’t have possibly wished for more. Or could he?
He was far too busy to answer that question.
Chapter 3
Walking along the long corridor, Fanny saw her favorite orphan’s petite figure marching forth as she approached in the distance. The grit in her stride reminded Fanny of the first time she met Kitty many years ago.
Then only fifteen years old, before she became a laywoman at Sisters of Mercy, teenage Fanny first encountered the determined eight-year-old brunette when she accidentally witnessed her wage a unique battle of wits against Mother Superior in the cloister’s foyer.
That was the day their binding relationship ensued, lasting many years until this day.
“Good morning, Fanny.” Kitty’s sweet face broke out into a genuine smile, her green eyes sparkling as the sunlight hit them through the glass windows.
“Good morning, love. Late for something?”
“I heard Mother Superior is paying us a surprise visit.”
“Wouldn’t be a surprise if you knew about it, don’t you think?” she teased.
Kitty raised her eyebrows in defiance. “Normally, we know a day before.”
“Ah.” She giggled. “And you’re fueling up for another confrontation, I assume.”
“Give me some credit, will you?” She tilted her head. “We don’t always argue.”
Fanny shrugged, giving her friend a kind smile. “You know what it’s like, and you still like to rock the boat.”
“Yes, and I salute you for putting up with it for, what, ten years now?” Her eyes widened. “I simply can’t imagine living here without rocking the boat.”
“I don’t have the energy,” she tittered.
“Say, how’s your brother? Still in Ireland?” Kitty asked.
“Last I heard from him.” She slightly nodded with a blink.
“If I were you, I’d make amends, pack my things, and go live there.”
“Well then, thank the Lord you’re not me.”
“He’s your only family, Fanny!”
“This is my family. If you met him, you’ll know why this place is paradise.”
They both giggled as they started walking together, side by side.
“You know,” Kitty exhaled, her eyes contemplating a thought, “I really do
admire your choice of occupation. There may be nothing greater than educating the young minds of children.”
“However?”
“How did you know there was a however?”
“There’s always one with you.”
“Well, can you blame me? For instance, you were only sixteen when you joined the Sisters. How did you know what you wanted at such a young age? I’m nearly twenty and I still haven’t got a clue.”
“All men were created equal, but I do suppose some of us take a little longer to figure out their true calling in life.”
“And I’m some of us?” she tittered.
“There’s nothing wrong with that, dear.” She stopped, briefly holding her friend’s hand. “You’re young and beautiful, and let’s be honest, you’ve never experienced life outside of these walls.” She paused. “I can understand your curiosity and desire to see more before you decide.”
“You’ve witnessed life outside.” Kitty’s stare grew fiery, intensifying their eye contact. “What made you settle?”
What was Fanny to say? That she knew, early on, her place in life and the role she was most fit for?
That her large, manly hands, her awkward carriage, her body that was devoid of all feminine curves and wiles, and her face with the rough features let her know that she was born to be a spinster?
Was she simply supposed to admit to her gorgeous friend that life did not give her a fighting chance in the realms of love and romance? That she had decided to make the best out of her time on Earth by caring for the Chicago orphans and assisting the nuns who had been brave enough to dedicate their lives to religion in a way that she had not been?
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Remember… when you asked me why I was not married? On the day of my twenty-seventh birthday?”
“Vividly,” Kitty asserted. “You said that you did not care to enlarge your menagerie of pets.” She giggled. “That you find the animal man less docile than a dog, less affectionate than a cat, and less amusing than a monkey.”
Satisfied with her friend’s response, Fanny took a deep breath and smiled as she resumed walking, immediately joined by Kitty. She did not wish to disclose that her answer was not purely intrinsic—that it was something she had once heard said by another diligent spinster.
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