by Lisa Prysock
“Just start at the beginning, ma’am.” He removed his hat and laid it on the empty seat beside him, wishing Isabelle was still alive. He wasn’t doing a very good job of being both mother and father since she’d passed away three years ago. Some days, it seemed like yesterday he’d buried his wife and infant son in Virginia. Moving back home to Belle, Wyoming to take over the family cattle ranch on the outskirts of town had been a blessing, until his Ma had passed on, too. Now, he just felt a little numb, but he had to stay strong for his Ambrosia Rose.
“I have a feeling she hasn’t been giving you any of the letters I’ve sent home,” she began.
“Letters?” He shook his head. No, he hadn’t received any letters.
“As I suspected.” She sighed and pushed her feet on the floor boards of the porch to sway a little in the swing, looking down. Then she looked up at him. “I never seem to see you in town, Mr. Stanton. You’re not at church on Sunday mornings, and I guess I’m teaching at school when you do come into town.”
“How many letters have you sent home with Ambrosia?” he asked, hoping to avoid the subject of church.
“Four. One because of the tardiness, one because she doesn’t do her homework or pay much attention in class, and one because of the frogs, crickets, worms and other critters she keeps bringing into the classroom, not to mention other behavior issues. It’s been very disruptive.” Miss Winkleman stopped swinging and held still.
“How is it she keeps showing me these tests with high scores?” he inquired.
“Oh, she’s a very bright and intelligent young lady for thirteen,” the schoolmarm explained as she placed her hands on each side of the seat, bracing herself. “She is advanced in every subject and retains new information quickly. However—and it hurts me to have to do this—I can’t allow her to return to school this year.”
“You’re expelling her from attending school?” he repeated, an eyebrow raised.
She nodded. “I am, Mr. Stanton. I draw the line at having a young lady wrestle in the creek with another student during recess.”
“Ambrosia Rose was wrestling in the creek with another student?” His mouth dropped open.
“Yes, and that was after the spitting incident, yesterday.” She sighed, shaking her head.
“Spitting incident?” he repeated. This did not abode well for his daughter.
“Well, apparently it was a contest among the boys to see who could spit the farthest, but it’s not a good example to the other young ladies for her to participate, and she seems to find my reactions amusing.” The teacher stopped swaying the swing, a serious look appearing on her face.
“I know she’s a bit of a tomboy, her Ma having passed away and now her grandmother too, but it’s not like her to wrestle with boys in the creek or involve herself in spitting contests. I’m afraid she may have picked up the habit from one of our wranglers.” He’d have a talk with the new wrangler, Thomas, as soon as he was done lecturing Ambrosia. Didn’t Tom understand how impressionable she was at this age?
“Mr. Stanton, your daughter was wrestling in the creek with another female student and pulling her hair. The other student’s dress was torn, and her parents have threatened to demand the school board terminate me if I don’t gain control of the classroom and maintain order at recess.” Tears threatened to well up in her eyes as she spoke, and he really hoped she wouldn’t start to cry right there on his front porch. “I really need this position. I hope you can understand. I’ve given her every opportunity to try to improve. I simply do not have any other choice at this time.”
He nodded. “I do understand, but I don’t understand, all at the same time. This isn’t the way I’ve raised my Ambrosia to behave. I’m sure there are two sides to every story, but it sounds like more than one incident has led up to this.”
She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Look, everyone knows you’re the largest cattle baron in this part of the Wyoming Territory. I admit it made me hesitant for too long to come and speak with you. I really tried my best with your daughter, but if I were you, I’d hire a nice governess immediately to give her etiquette lessons and some personal attention. A proper governess might also teach her some refinements, such as poise, French, Art, Literature, sewing, conversing, and all of the right manners a young lady of her age needs to know. She needs a mother figure and more guidance at this crucial stage in her development.”
He nodded. It was about the only thing he could do. He wanted to ask the name of the student she’d been wrestling with, but he figured he’d find out soon enough. He’d hear about it from Ambrosia, or when the other student’s parents drove out to Silver Aspen to discuss the incident.
Miss Winkleman rose from her seat, signaling the end of their discussion. “I’d also suggest taking her to church, every Sunday, as much as possible. If Ambrosia matures in a few years, we might consider giving her a second chance, but I’d have to see a drastic change in her behavior.”
On that flat and final note, the teacher for the little town of Belle, Wyoming departed, leaving him to find his daughter and figure out how to hire a governess. Church? Well, that was a matter he’d have to work his way up to.
Right now, he had to find a way to help his daughter. He hadn’t been to church since his Isabelle died, except for his Ma, Ida Stanton’s funeral. He’d missed his Pa’s funeral due to being in Virginia. He supposed it might be nearing time to make a little more peace with God, but for now, he’d have to settle with offering a few extra prayers up. Especially since by now, this story had likely circulated all over the town of Belle like wildfire.
He’d send an advertisement to the newspaper back East. There weren’t any governesses sitting around on the vast and wild prairie of the kind his daughter needed. No, not anywhere in Wyoming that he knew of, but maybe back in Williamsburg where he’d attended the College of William and Mary and met his darling Isabelle.
Chapter 2
“EVERY GREAT DREAM BEGINS with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.”—Harriet Tubman, abolitionist.
“WHAT LITTLE GIRL WISHES to take etiquette lessons in the summer? It’s only been a month since you’ve arrived.” Ada looked aghast as she read the newspaper advertisement she held in her hands for the third time. “Mark my words, you’ll have trouble with this one.”
Mia placed her teacup back in the saucer and allowed her eyes to convey as much hope in her friend as her words. “Oh, Ada, please say you won’t mind. It’s the Wyoming and Dakota Territory, a cattle ranch. Don’t you see? It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of and being a governess while I’m there means I’ll have protection. I won’t have to hire a guide and live in a covered wagon.”
“You’ve actually gone so far as to think of hiring a guide and living in a covered wagon?” Ada’s mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide.
“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.” Mia nodded. Why did others not understand her obsession with the western frontier? Ada was still as British as ever, but she had to find a way to convince her this was her best opportunity to see the west.
“Well, I know the Americans do it. They’re a brave and courageous sort, you know. Always expanding into the unknown.” Ada sipped some of her tea and stared at the advertisement.
“You’ll have Miss Flora here to keep you company, and I’ll return after I’ve had a chance to see everything.” Mia had it all planned out, including a list of the places she might like to visit. Cheyenne, forts, Indians, and mountains had been on the top of her list.
“What’s this I hear? What do you intend to see, Lady Mia Arabella?” Reverend Marcus Smith entered the dining room and bent down to give his wife a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning, Ada dear.”
“Good morning, husband,” Ada beamed as he helped himself to the breakfast foods on the buffet.
Mia was happy for her dearest childhood friend. She’d fallen in love with Marcus when he’d visited Englan
d with his mother three years prior. Unable to be parted from each other, he and Ada had married in a small, elegant ceremony before he returned to the States to live in Williamsburg, Virginia with his bride. Mia had stood at her friend’s side as maid of honor. Since her own arrival from England, the last four weeks had been filled with picnics, afternoon tea, shopping excursions, and pleasant afternoons and evenings in Mia’s quaint two-story cottage. They’d even taken an excursion to the seaside for several days and collected all sorts of seashells. Of course, they’d spent every Sunday morning at church, and Reverend Smith’s sermons had been enjoyable, even stirring.
“I’m hoping to accept a position in the Wyoming Territory as a governess so I might explore the western frontier a bit,” Mia explained, biting her lower lip.
“Ah, an excellent plan. Any particular town?” Reverend Smith joined them at the table with a plate heaped with thick slices of bacon, two fried eggs, and two buttermilk biscuits.
“This is a position to teach the daughter of a cattle baron near a small town called Belle. It’s not far from Laramie and Fort Bridger. I looked on my maps.” Mia handed him one of the books with maps she’d brought to the table in case anyone asked to see it.
“Ah, I see you’ve certainly researched the area.” He eyed the stack of books at her side from across the table.
“She stays up late studying all of those books and many more.” Miss Flora tasted some of the fresh blueberries and strawberries. She sipped some tea and then continued. “Our Lady Mia Arabella is a wealth of information concerning Oregon, Dakota Territory, Wyoming Territory, and more. I think she knows nearly as much as Daniel Boone, or even Lewis and Clark about being a survivor in the wilds beyond the Appalachians.”
Reverend Smith glanced at his wife. “Most remarkable! Now there goes a soul burning with passion to serve the Lord with the desires he has obviously placed there. You are likely needed as a beacon of light to this family.” He smothered his biscuit with some cherry preserves. “I see nothing wrong with accepting the position. Of course, you must keep your father informed, and write to us on a regular basis. Otherwise, my Ada will fret. She has such a sensitive nature.” He reached for some of the orange marmalade and began smothering his other biscuit, smiling at his wife.
Ada returned his smile affectionately and drew in a sigh, evidently pleased with Reverend Smith’s estimation of the situation. Turning to Mia, she leaned in her direction. “If my husband says it is all right, then it is so. I believe you can take a train much of the way, and stage coach through the rest.”
Mia could barely contain her joy. She had to refrain from dancing about the cottage since it was rather small and cozy, but immediately after breakfast, she would pen a letter of reply to Mr. Joshua Stanton. Then she would deliver it to the postal office in person. The nearly thirty-day voyage crossing the Atlantic had been worthwhile. She thought of all of the sailors and people who’d bravely crossed before her to discover a new world each time she’d looked out at the endless waves from the ship. Now she was finally going to join those who traveled the paths of many brave explorers and pioneers.
Chapter 3
“BE STILL WHEN YOU HAVE nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you’ve got to say, and say it hot.”—D.H. Lawrence, English Writer, (1885-1930).
A TRAIN HAD TAKEN MIA as far as Pelican Rapids, Minnesota in Ottertail County. The Union Pacific train track ended there and she transferred to a stagecoach for the journey to Cheyenne. The further they traveled, the more she leaned to look out of the window, thankful she had a seat on a coach with two men and one other lady. Whenever she opened her mouth to converse, they all seemed to stare at her and listen intently, fascinated by her British accent. Nonetheless, she didn’t want to speak. She wanted to take in everything of wonder outside her window, drinking in the wilds of the Dakota Territory as they passed through on their way to Wyoming Territory. After a while, the coach seemed to rock back and forth, jostling them along dirt roads while she stared out the window, trying to memorize everything she saw.
Mia loved the wide open prairie of the Dakota Territory, gloried in the primroses, and deeply inhaled the fresh air of early summer. She was glad the roads weren’t as dusty as she’d expected, but apparently, they’d had a wet spring. She wanted to wrap her arms around every charming log cabin, barn, and farmhouse she saw. They were few and far between, but nonetheless, every now and again, she’d see a farm or a ranch. Then she’d try to imagine how each cabin or farmhouse looked inside as the stage continued the journey west. According to her map, which she referred to often, Belle was located in the far southwest corner of the Wyoming Territory, somewhere between Laramie and Fort Bridger, about thirty miles outside of Fort Bridger, just below Black Creek River and Wynter’s Mountain. They still had quite a distance to travel.
After they left Dakota Territory and entered Wyoming Territory, the passengers all stepped off the stage at the Union Pacific Depot in Cheyenne, including Mia. She waved good-bye to her fellow travelers while attendants from the depot transported her trunks. After spending the night at a hotel, she boarded a train which would carry her toward Laramie and on toward Glenda, the nearest town to Belle. At least she had the seat to herself on the train. She was a little sad to be leaving Cheyenne since she’d always wanted to explore it, but at least she’d seen a lot of Dakota Territory.
The train went through passes, crossed over creeks and rivers on bridges, passing buttes jutting up toward the sky with flat tops making her wonder how to climb them, wound around mountains, and sped along through numerous plains. It seemed like forever when in the train, but she enjoyed the scenery when she wasn’t reading or falling asleep. The tiny towns they passed through usually didn’t have many folks climb aboard, but it was just as well since it gave her more space and a seat to herself.
Finally, the train rolled to a stop in Glenda, Wyoming. She stepped off the train to spend the night in a hotel, glad to be standing still and not moving. Looking around, she saw a church, a school building, and many establishments. She sighed with relief to have a hot bath in her hotel room. Wearily, she went downstairs to have a good meal in the hotel dining room, avoiding discussion with anyone. She only wanted the solace of her room and a good night’s rest.
The next morning, she boarded a stage which turned toward Belle for the last leg of her journey, a fifteen mile ride of about two hours. Staring out the window at the breathtaking mountains in the distance and the prairie grasslands, she thoroughly enjoyed having the coach to herself. She wondered what her new employer would be like, and her future charge, praying for the Lord to grant her favor, wisdom, and protection. The solace of the journey was like a balm of honey to her soul.
As they rolled on further into the beautiful Wyoming Territory, she tucked her brown locks in place and pinched her cheeks when she realized they were progressing close to her destination. When the stage finally rolled to a stop in Belle, the driver was quick to jump down from his seat near the top of the coach. He opened the door, dropped the steps down, and held a hand out to offer assistance as she gathered her skirts and climbed down from the conveyance. Then he removed her two trunks from the top and rear of the coach.
After he placed one of the trunks at her feet and then stood up taller, he tipped his hat in her direction. “You’re one of our first passengers to be delivered directly to Belle by our new stage, ma’am.” The driver winked with a friendly smile. “It used to be you had to send a telegram and Paps Johnson would pick up passengers once a week in a wagon. Paps owns the livery.”
“I had no idea,” she replied, thankful to have arrived safely, thinking Paps was an odd name. It wasn’t a proper name or a proper nickname in her opinion. She definitely wouldn’t have enjoyed being in a wagon for two whole hours with a stranger named Paps under the intensity of the summer sun. It was better to be in the little bit of shade and cover from some of the dust provided by the stagecoach. “I’m glad to hear there’s a regular stage in B
elle now.”
He nodded, depositing the last trunk. “I’ve been driving in this general area for a while now, but it’s time Belle acquired a regular stage. You can purchase a ticket at the livery, uh, right behind you, if you need to travel in the future.”
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” Mia waved good-bye when he climbed back into the driver’s seat, and looked around, feeling quite alone. She turned around and studied the livery for a moment. At the moment, it looked empty of people who might be able to direct her to Joshua Stanton, and there was no sign of this Paps Johnson person, thankfully.
Then, standing still beside her trunks, smoothing her skirts, she looked around at the rest of the town. She spotted a café and just beyond it, a blacksmith. To her left, she saw a seamstress shop, a mercantile, town hall, the sheriff’s office, and what appeared to be a boarding house near a newspaper office.
The hotel and saloon didn’t seem like the right kind of establishment judging by the characters lurking outside of it, but she also noticed a bank, and gas lamp posts on every corner. Glancing back at the café to her right, she caught sight of a steeple beyond it, rising above the town in a more residential area, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least they had a church. It was more than she’d expected.
The town had a certain kind of charming appeal to it. She was certain she’d be happy there, if only she could locate someone from Mr. Stanton’s household to take her to Silver Aspen Ranch. His letter—she’d read it numerous times along the journey—had said he or a member of his staff would meet her at the livery where the stage dropped off Belle, Wyoming’s travelers. She may as well sit down on her trunks and wait. Mr. Joshua Stanton was probably running late. If he didn’t appear soon, she decided she’d find a room at the boarding house. He’d mentioned it with a few other details about the town in his letter.
