by Caroline Lee
The heat didn’t seem to matter anymore. The violin music, the faint murmur of approval from their gathered family and friends, even his brother’s quiet appreciative whistle… all faded. It was as if every fiber of his being was focused on the woman who was about to become his wife. He slowly exhaled, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was right. The grin that crept across his face was soft and sure.
He was home.
Serena clutched Ash’s arm for support, suddenly feeling faint. He glanced down at her, and patted her hand, tucked into his elbow. They started their stately walk down the aisle, and her knees were so weak that Serena felt like she was hanging off of Ash.
“You gonna be okay, missy?” His whisper was for her ears only.
Her mouth was too dry to respond, so she just nodded, and kept her eyes locked on Sebastian, who stood beaming at the altar.
Ash continued. “You know, Molly looked like that the day we got hitched.” She tore her gaze away to glance up at her escort questioningly. “Like she was terrified and thrilled all at once.” He smiled. “I may have talked her into marrying me a bit before she was ready, but I knew that we were gonna be happy together.” Serena smiled slightly. Ash was right; he and Molly had built a beautiful life together.
“I just wanted you to know that, Serena.” He squeezed her hand as he gently disengaged it from his arm, and she was a little surprised to realize that they were at the altar already. “Any fool can see that the two of you are meant to be. You’ll be fine together. It’s a sound match, and you’ll be happy.”
She’d always admired him, but in that moment she positively loved Ash Barker, for overcoming his rough awkwardness around her to make sure that she felt better. Even on her tiptoes, she couldn’t reach him, so she tugged on his hands until he bent slightly, and she was able to plant a small kiss on his rough cheek. “Thank you.”
He smiled, just slightly, and turned to place her hand in Sebastian’s.
She caught her breath at the way her husband-to-be’s gaze slowly took in all of her. His beautifully warm eyes rested on the teardrop pearl laying against her chest, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. The necklace had been his grandmother’s and he’d gifted it to her the day before. She twined the fingers of the hand not clutching the bouquet through his, and he raised them to his lips.
“You are stunning, Miss Selkirk.” She had to smile then, hearing the unseen grin in his voice. Very soon, she’d become Mrs. Sebastian Carderock, and she found that she couldn’t wait. The knowing look in his eyes promised all sorts of new and interesting things to learn, being married to him, and she felt her cheeks heat at the intimation.
He leaned close to her ear. “What are you thinking about?” His breath was warm on her cheek, and she felt her heart speed up.
She stared into his eyes, so close to her. “When I saw you for the first time, right here in this church, I thought you looked like a prince. I would have never guessed that someone as cultured and handsome as you could fall for someone like me.”
“You mean someone as beautiful, kind, and giving as you?” He kissed her then, in front of their families and friends, in front of their wedding altar. Time seemed to stop, but she was intently aware of every passing second; the feel of his lips, the touch of his hand on her back, the sounds of Aunt Agnes and Aunt Agatha sniffling loudly behind her in the front row. It was exactly the way she’d always assumed a wedding kiss would go, and they weren’t even in front of the preacher yet. She felt his lips curve under hers before he pulled away. “I love you, Serena. I’ll never love another woman the way I love you.”
“And I love you more than I thought possible, Sebastian.” She watched his face light up with a brilliant smile, and marveled that she’d found such a stunning man. “I am looking forward to spending a lifetime loving you.” She squeezed his fingers, and felt him squeeze back.
Turning then, to face the altar, she saw Reverend Davis beaming down at them, with Annie and Reggie on either side. Sebastian held out his arm, and she tucked her small hand into his elbow. He looked down at her and asked “Shall we get started, then?”
She smiled back, and they both stepped up to the altar, and into their new lives, together.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
On Historical Accuracy
Cheyenne was just a few rows of tents in 1867, but by the time Sebastian arrived in 1881, it had grown into a bustling metropolis. It was one of the first cities in North America to have electric street lights, and modernized as fast as the cities Sebastian would have known back east. The Cheyenne Club, the Opera House, Millionaire’s Row, M eanea's Saddle Shop, and the telephone exchange stood as examples of the city’s progress. While the city never reached the size or population of Sebastian’s New York, it grew to become the significant force in the American West that he imagined.
The themes of patriotism explored in this story are representative of the time; despite the movie portrayals of cowboys and westerners locked only in struggles with nature and each other, most citizens cared passionately about the future of their Territory. Garfield’s shooting (he died from his wounds—or rather, infection caused by surgery on his wounds—three months later) and the holiday were convenient excuses to start the debate again. But Cam was right; Cheyenne needed all sorts of men to make it successful. Wyoming became the 44th state in the Union in 1890, thanks to the “citified” lawmakers and schoolteachers Cam had so disdained.
Luckily, women like Serena and her aunts weren’t left out of the process. Wyoming was the first territory in the history of the nation to grant women the right to vote, all the way back in 1869. This was mainly because the population was so small that they desperately needed every vote they could get, but it had the added benefit of attracting marriageable women and young families to the territory. Women’s suffrage was written into the state constitution in 1890.
This story’s cast of characters is liberally sprinkled with real people: Misters Hay, Carey and Whipple were three of the founding partners of the Stock Growers National Bank, but I used a bit of artistic license with their wives. Reverend Jerome Davis and Mrs. Davis built the First Congregational Church in 1869 after he served as a Lt. Colonel in the Civil War. He’d already been posted to Japan in 1881, but he was such an interesting character that I left him in Cheyenne to marry Serena and Sebastian.
And speaking of an “interesting character”, Barney Ford is deserving of his own book. He escaped slavery in Virginia and traveled via the Underground Railroad to Chicago, where he married and chose the name "Ford", since he didn't have a last name prior to that. He and his wife traveled by ship to California (stopping for a few years in Nicaragua and opening a hotel) and then to Denver, Colorado where they opened the Inter-Ocean Hotel. They faced unbelievable discrimination and hardships that cost them several of their businesses, but Barney persevered, eventually opening a hotel by the same name in Cheyenne. At one point, Barney was the 14th richest man in Colorado, and was the first African-American nominated to the Territorial Legislature. He was instrumental in assuring the Colorado constitution allowed black voting rights.
Finally, I’d be remiss if I left out a short discussion about Annie’s schooling, since that’s what brought Sebastian to Cheyenne in the first place. Oralism was the dominant movement in deaf education at the time. It was based on using lip reading, mimicking the mouth shapes and breathing techniques of speech, and speech itself to teach deaf children. Oralists like Alexander Graham Bell argued that manualism (using sign language) indicated lower intelligence, and often forbid students/teachers from using sign. Manualists argued that forcing deaf students to learn how to form words (essentially learning a new language, when ‘language’ itself was a new concept) meant that they couldn't concentrate on the meaning of those words, and thus they weren't learning as much. Today, deaf education accepts both of these methods as valid, although some people still only use one or the other. And while Sebastian’s method of education wouldn’t be commonly te
rmed “inclusive” for 120 years, students with disabilities were being taught alongside their peers well before the creation of Schools for the Deaf.
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For all of you who were rooting for Cam; don’t worry! He’ll find his own little firecracker to teach him all about love in A Cheyenne Thanksgiving. Now that he’s realized he’s ready for a family, he’s not going to let anything stand in his way! Keep reading for an exclusive sneak peek.
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From A Cheyenne Thanksgiving
August, 1882
They were planning something horrible.
Tess was packing up the leftovers from dinner when she heard the men she’d been traveling with—men she’d known and trusted for months—planning to do her the deepest harm. They were around the far campfire, and didn’t see her on this side of the wagon. They’d been drinking as well, and probably didn’t realize how loudly they were speaking. Or that she could hear their plans.
“Whatdya mean ‘hold her down’?”
“She’s jest a tiny little thing. Ain’t gunna be too hard.” Tess couldn’t hear well enough to know who was speaking. She stood still in shock, straining to hear more, but dreading it.
“All I’m saying,” that was one of Willis’ favorite phrases, so it had to be the foreman speaking, “is that she’s a fighter.”
“You think so?” That was Crowley, the new hand. She’d only met him four weeks before, and didn’t know him as well as the others, but wouldn’t have thought he’d be the type to press his attentions on a woman.
“Yeah, she’s a spitfire alright. It ain’t gunna be easy.”
“What about you, kid?”
“No secret I want her.” Stanley was two years younger than her, and Tess had known he was sweet on her. But she never would have thought he’d do something so… so brutal. So terrible. She should have been terrified, but found herself listening with a detached horrified fascination. She was numb, listening to them discuss how they were going to go about raping her. The sack of leftover biscuits hung unheeded from her hands, and she barely heard Jacob singing to himself as he poked holes in the dirt with his favorite stick. All she could do was stand, frozen, and listen with a kind of morbid curiosity, as if they were speaking about the weather.
Stanley’s voice again, and the sound of liquid in bottle. “What about the boy? She’d shut up fast enough if she thought he was in trouble.”
“I figure we hit him real hard, and he’d stay out of our way.”
“Nah, he’s the key to getting her to cooperate.”
“All I’m saying is, she’ll lie real still if she thinks the kid’s…”
Tess wasn’t sure if Willis had stopped talking, or if the blood pounding in her ears just drowned him out. Jacob! The sudden fear dragged her gaze towards her son. But he was fine, still oblivious of the threat, happy as only a two-year-old in dirt could be. Still, hearing the men discuss how to ‘handle’ him had snapped her out of her daze.
Her heart was beating so fast that she was sure she would throw up, and she had to force herself to take deeper breaths. She couldn’t focus on the anger or fear… she had to hear what they were planning. She had to find a way to outwit them.
“How’s about we jest wait ‘til the boy’s asleep? Hell, wait ‘til she’s asleep too, then just grab her? Tell her we’ll hurt him good if she don’t lie real still?”
“Yeah, I like that. Pass the whiskey.” They quieted, and Tess squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, the world looked the same, but she knew it wasn’t. She couldn’t un-hear what they’d said, and had to do something to ensure they could never, ever hurt Jacob.
Slowly, deliberately, she finished tying up the biscuits, and then methodically wrapped up the remainder of the fowl in the oilskin. She’d planned to fry both of them up for breakfast tomorrow, but now wasn’t sure she’d be able. Would she still be the cattle drive’s cook in the morning? Or would what they planned to do to her mean she wouldn’t be able to function? Would she still be alive, come the morning?
She glanced at Jacob again, and winced. He couldn’t afford for her to give up. For his sake, she had to find a way to fight these men. She wasn’t going to let them hurt him to get to her.
How had she misjudged them so badly? She’d known Willis for almost six months, since he had started coming to the store whenever he was in town. He’d always been friendly and trustworthy. When he found out her trouble, he had offered her a spot on the next drive south, and she didn’t have to deliberate long. Why, even Mrs. Patullie had vouched for him! She was sure she would be safe with him. And Stanley had brought her flowers twice. She’d thought he was sweet!
But cursing her own poor judgment wasn’t going to save her now. She had to decide what to do. The men had quieted now, but she could still hear the clink of the whiskey bottle and the occasional bursts of laughter. Had they been serious? Were they really planning on raping her, on threatening her baby to get what they wanted from her? Or had it just been idle pratter, fueled by boredom and liquor?
She couldn’t take the risk of being wrong. She had to treat the threat as a real one, and get her son to safety. But how? They were four days from Fort Fetterman and the dubious civilization it offered, and another week to Cheyenne. The men had waited until they were in the middle of nowhere before voicing their plans. Whether it had been deliberate or not, their isolation worked to their advantage just the same. She hadn’t seen a ranch or homestead in the last three days, and there was no one to whom she could turn for help.
Her .32 was in the wagon, but hadn’t been fired in months. She knew it was loaded, and knew how to use it, but didn’t much like it. Joshua had insisted she know how to take care of herself, and it had been a useful threat several times since his death, when men had tried to accost her. But she’d always been in a town then, with the trappings of civilization around her. She had a strong feeling that just waving the weapon at the three men wouldn’t work this time. They’d likely laugh at her, and take it from her. Worse, once she introduced guns into the situation, one was more likely to go off… and she just couldn’t risk that with Jacob so close.
No, she was going to have to outwit them. And without any sort of resources, anything—or anyone—she could threaten them with, her only hope lay in escape. She had to run, to leave the dubious safety of the cook wagon and the fires, and hope for the best. They’d come after her, but maybe they wouldn’t catch her. And even if they did, maybe they would have lost their violent bent as the whiskey wore off.
She had one hope: Fort Laramie. She’d studied the maps before they’d left, and knew that it should be due east of their location, based on how far they’d come since Fetterman. The drive was headed south, to the depot in Cheyenne, and if she were to head towards Laramie, the men probably wouldn’t bother to come after her. Driving several hundred head of cattle four days out of the way to pick up a stray cook and her son would be foolish. If she could get away from the drive, and the men, she had a chance to make it to Fort Laramie. She’d be safe there; but more importantly, so would Jacob. Willis, Crowley and Stanley couldn’t hurt him to hurt her.
Tess was never one to dally. Once she had a plan, she acted. The biscuits and the wrapped meat fit easily into a cloth sack, with enough room for a few essential
s. She packed quickly, one eye on Jacob and her ears pricked for further hints from the far campfire. Inside the wagon she lingered briefly over her trunk, knowing the loss of all of the clothing and personal items would cost her dearly. But she was nothing if not practical, and knew that everything inside could be replaced with time and money. She could make money, if she had time. And the only way to buy time was to leave the trunk. Still, she took her mother’s silk scarf and her father’s intricately carved opium pipe, because she couldn’t bear to leave them behind.
Hanging the sack over one shoulder, and a canteen over the other, she shrugged into her carrying sling. Now that Jacob was steady enough to walk on his own, she rarely had to carry him. But since joining this drive, she’d occasionally taken him for a stroll in the evening, to rock him to sleep. She hoped that if Willis saw her this evening, that’s what he’d assume she was doing.
Jacob must be sleepy already; he’d rubbed his eyes at some point, and smeared dirt down one cheek. He didn’t protest when she scooped him up and handed him his favorite blankie. As he nestled his head into the hollow of her shoulder, she hoped that he didn’t understand what the beating of her heart meant.
He was used to the sling, and slid easily into the pouch of material, straddling her stomach and popping one dirty thumb into his mouth. She winced, but was glad that he was quiet. Ready now, she slipped the Smith and Wesson into the back of the sling, and shifted in various directions to make sure it wouldn’t come loose… or worse, blow her backside off.
Taking a deep breath, Tess set off in a vaguely northerly direction, humming softly to Jacob. As she passed the second campfire—confident that Jacob’s bulk hid the bags of provisions—she saw Crowley glance at her and then nudge Willis. The foreman probably didn’t realize how loud his voice was when he said “Good, we’ll let her put the kid to sleep first…”
