Emily: Army Mail Order Bride

by Mercy Levy

  Samantha shook her head. “You really know how to mess up a good steak, don’t you, girl,” she fussed.

  Matthew grinned. “I figured that’s what was taking place when I was asked to have supper with you. I only accepted because I didn’t want to be rude. I also accepted because I don’t care much to eat my supper alone. I like good company. My Pa was more than just a sheriff, he was a friend to his town, and he taught me to be the same way.”

  “Well, I’m sure the people in this town appreciate all you do for them,” I told Matthew. Suddenly, the image of the man in gray burst into my mind. A cold chill ran down my spine.

  “What’s wrong?” Samantha asked, reading my troubled eyes.

  “Oh,” I said trying to sound calm, “I saw a man ride into town earlier. I don’t know why, but the sight of him really…made me feel very cold inside…scared too.”

  “What did this man look like?” Matthew asked me.

  “He was wearing a gray coat…had a dark gray hat pulled down over his eyes,” I explained. “And oh, he was riding a horse that had a red circle on his back leg…the right leg, I think.”

  Matthew stared at me. “Are you sure,” he asked me in a voice that caused panic to grip my heart.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’m not blind.”

  Matthew stood up from the table. “Excuse me,” he said and walked out of the dining room. I watched him leave and then looked at Samantha. Samantha sighed and didn’t say a word. Outside the rain continued to fall. Down the street, hidden in the Livery stable, a killer was waiting for Matthew.

  <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

  “I must be crazy,” I told myself as I rushed out of the dining room. I caught up with Matthew just as he walked out of the front door of the hotel. “Wait,” I called out and raced out onto a wet and shadowy veranda.

  Matthew stopped, turned, and looked at me. “Ma’am?”

  “That man I saw,” I said trying to calm my racing heart, “who is he?”

  Matthew tossed his eyes out into the heavy rain. “Jared Logger.”

  “The bank robber who got away?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Matthew confessed. “Ma’am, you better go back inside. If you hear shooting, don’t panic. Jared Logger is in town for one reason. He won’t bother anyone else.”

  “He’s come to kill you,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” I asked. “This man is a wanted criminal.”

  “Maybe so,” Matthew told me, “but his soul is hungering for revenge. I killed two of his brothers. Jared Logger vowed to gun me down. I’ve been waiting for him.”

  I stood still and listened to the rain fall. I felt scared for Matthew. The name ‘Jared Logger’ made me my heart feel as if it were being covered with slabs of ice. “You’re going to fight him?”

  “I have a duty to carry out,” Matthew nodded his head. “Ma’am—”

  “My name is Beth.”

  Matthew turned and looked at me. “Beth,” he said in a soft voice, “I came to this town because Jared Logger grew up here. I figured he would come back here soon or a later. Now he’s back. I know you can’t understand that, but please try.”

  “Oh, I understand,” I assured Matthew. “The wicked must die, Matthew. But God Himself destroys the wicked.”

  “God doesn’t believe in me,” Matthew replied and turned back toward the rain. “Before my brother died I prayed and read the Good Book every day…faithfully. My Pa and me, we served the badge the way the Good Book taught us. How were we rewarded? My brother was shot dead. My Pa gave up the badge and went to drinking. My Ma shriveled up inside of her heart and gave up on living…one bullet caused all that misery…God couldn’t stop one bullet? I believed in God, but He didn’t believe in me.”

  “That’s not true,” I snapped at Matthew. Instead of allowing compassion to flood from my voice I dressed my voice with absolute anger. “My father was killed. Do I blame God? My mother died when I young. Do I blame God? I’m standing here in this miserable little town. Do I blame God? Oh, I fuss and pout at times…much more than I ought to…but deep down, in my heart, I trust that God knows what is best for me. I’m very sorry your brother was killed, Matthew, but God has His reasons.” I approached Matthew and gently touched his shoulder. “Samantha once told me that when a man has carried out his duty for God on this earth, God takes him home. Now, I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it could be. I feel in my heart that it is.”

  Matthew glanced over at my hand and then looked back into the rain. “My brother was a Christian, ma’am. Are you saying that God took him home because he didn’t have any more purpose?”

  “I’m saying,” I told Matthew and softened my voice, “that God took your brother back to His Kingdom because it was time. Who are we…” I rolled my eyes and looked down at my arm, “who are we…people made of dirt…to judge God? Did you ever stop and think, Matthew, that God was with your brother when he was killed…there to comfort him as he crossed over from life to death? You said your brother was a Christian…so surely God didn’t desert him as he died. Of course, it could have been the other way around too. Once I saw a man bitten by a deadly snake. He died…so scared…because he refused to love God with his heart. Of course, before this man got bit he was rough and mean. He died alone…in his heart and spirit…God was not with him.”

  Matthew stood silent for a minute. “I never thought it like that before,” he admitted. “I never thought…that God was with my brother when he died. I always figured God deserted us.”

  “It’s easy to get mad at God when life gets tough. But you know what?”

  “What?” Matthew asked keeping his eyes focused on the rain.

  “When Jesus died on the Cross for you and me…do you know he prayed beforehand?”

  Matthew slowly turned around, faced me, and then bowed his head. “Not My will be done…but yours,” he whispered.

  I nodded my head. “God’s Will be done, Matthew, not out own. I tend to forget that truth myself at times when I start dreaming about being a famous singer, living in a fancy house, drinking expensive champagne. But, in the end, God’s Will be done.”

  “I’m still good to folks. I still serve the badge. I’ve always kept a smile and gentle hand until I’m forced to draw my gun. I’ve continued to serve the law faithfully and—”

  “We have to serve God faithfully before we can serve a badge or people,” I told Matthew with a caring voice. “Before we love people, we have to love God first. Before we can work for people, we have to work for God first and do His Will. Samantha reminds me of this truth all the time.”

  Matthew patted the gun sitting on his right hip. “I have work to do,” he said and walked off into the rain. I watched Matthew walk up the rainy street toward the livery stable. The street was empty, muddy, dark and lonely. Some of the wooden buildings lining the street were dark, some of the buildings had light glowing in their windows. The local saloon was loud and noisy, I couldn’t spot anyone standing outside the saloon doors. Matthew was alone. He walked up the rainy street preparing to fight a man who had gunned his brother out of duty—but I knew anger and pain would be the finger that pulled the trigger on his gun. On the outside, a man could appear normal. Within his heart, though, a personal war was raging. I felt that Matthew was fighting a war, struggling desperately to defeat his inner guilt and find absolution.

  Chapter 3

  Last Fight in the Heart

  I knew not to follow Matthew. I honestly didn’t want to. It was dark, wet and rainy. Besides, what could I do? Matthew and Jared Logger were going to draw guns on each other no matter how desperately I tried to stop the fight. And why should I even try and stop the fight, I thought, easing my way down the left side of a muddy street, struggling to keep Matthew’s shadowy form in my sight. Jared Logger was a killer and Matthew was sworn to uphold the law. Still I wondered, feeling the heavy rain soaking through my dress and drenching my hair. I felt the need to follow Matthew, as if I needed to protect him so
mehow. Of course, I couldn’t protect a rabbit let alone a grown man with a gun…yet in my heart I felt the need to be close to Matthew in his darkest hour. Why? I didn’t know. Was God speaking to my heart? I wasn’t sure. I surely didn’t have any desire to be chasing after a strange man down a rainy street, getting mud all over my dress, and risking the chance of catching a cold. “Then go back to the hotel, dry off, eat dinner, and go to bed,” I whispered to myself stopping in front of the general store. For a couple of second my legs almost turned and walked back to the hotel, but my heart refused. “Oh, pooh,” I fussed and continued to follow Matthew.

  Matthew stopped in front of the livery stable. The livery stable was dark and drenched with rain. The sound of tired horses drifted through the stable’s front door, which was open just far enough for a man to step through. I dashed over to a large tree sitting to the right of the livery stable and watched Matthew examine the dark stable with cautious eyes. “Logger!” he called out in a voice that sent chills down my spine. Death was in Matthew’s voice.

  Jared Logger stepped through the stable door and walked out into the rain. He appeared as a dark shadow and nothing else. “I’ve been waiting a long time, lawman,” Jared Logger told Matthew in a voice filled with the screams and dead, innocent, men. “You killed my brothers.”

  Matthew rested his right hand on his gun. He stood very still and allowed the heavy rain to cover his heart. My heart began racing as if some madman had attached it to a racing bull. “What do I do, Lord?” I asked. But before I could do anything Jared Logger went for his gun. Matthew shot him dead before the man could blink. And then…only the sound of the rain falling filled my ears. A few minutes later a group of men came running up to Matthew. One of the men in the group rushed over and bent down next to Jared Logger. “Well if the sky ain’t blue,” he yelled, “Matthew done went and shot down Jared Logger! Got him square in the chest, too!”

  “Drag his body up to the hill and dump it in,” Matthew told the group of men. He returned his gun back to its resting place, turned, and walked away.

  “In this rain?” a man called out.

  “In the rain,” Matthew yelled over his shoulder. “I’ll pay double. Just dump the body and come to the jail when you’re done. I’ll be there.”

  Matthew’s voice didn’t enter the rain pleased and happy—instead, his voice sounded angry and upset. I wasn’t sure why? Surely Matthew should have been relieved that he finally killed the man who shot down his brother, but he wasn’t. Confused, I decided to follow Matthew back down to the jail. I wasn’t very happy about being wet and hungry, but God kept tugging on my heart. So I walked to the jail and found Matthew inside preparing to make a pot of coffee. “You saw me kill Jared Logger,” he told me as soon as I walked through the front door.

  “I saw,” I admitted. I stepped into a small wooden room that held a wooden stove and an old desk covered with papers. A few wanted papers were stuck to the right wall and a gun rack holding three rifles rested on the left wall. “Cozy,” I said closing the front door.

  “It’s a jail, not a hotel,” Matthew said shoving wood into the stove. “Why did you follow me?”

  “Why did you let me follow you?” I asked in return. I felt cold and wanted to warm myself beside the stove but decided to remain standing in front of the door. “You don’t seem very happy that you killed the man who shot your brother, either. Why?”

  Matthew slammed the door on the stove shut, stood up, looked at me with upset eyes, and then walked over to his desk and plopped down in a chair that creaked and moaned under his weight. He looked up at the ceiling and then looked down at his desk. “You sing mighty pretty.”

  “So you’ve told me.”

  Matthew nodded his head. “But you don’t enjoy singing, not in towns like this.”

  “No, I don’t,” I admitted. Water dripped down my face. I smelled the fire Matthew had started in the wooden stove begin to take life. I decided to ease over to the stove and warm up.

  “When you sing those pretty songs, you sing for money not for happiness.”

  “True,” I replied as I began to warm my hands.

  “Same with me tonight,” Matthew explained. “I killed Jared Logger because I had to, not because I wanted to. I hate killing…never sits well in my belly. Even though Jared Logger killed my brother, I would have much rather saw him hang from a rope. I knew he would never be taken to a rope without drawing his gun first.” Matthew shook his head. “Logger is dead, my brother can rest in peace, and I can go about my way.”

  “What is your way?” I asked Matthew.

  “Maybe this town?” Matthew confessed. “I came to this town and took up being Sheriff because I knew Jared Logger would return here someday. But now that he’s dead and under the dirt, I don’t have no reason to stay here. I ain’t got no family.”

  I continued to warm my hands. Outside the rain continued to fall. As I listened to the rain fall I felt a strange feeling overtake me. I looked at Matthew. I looked into his troubled, handsome face and saw a very lonely man—a man that was tired of his badge. “What do you want?” I asked Matthew.

  Matthew reached his right hand behind his head and rubbed his neck. “I don’t rightly know what I want anymore,” he confessed. “Being a lawman is all I know. But I’m losing my taste for the law. That saloon across the street will always cause men to act foolishly. Every payday I always expect at least one or two killings. Men work hard and then spend their money getting drunk on whiskey. And then kill each other.” Matthew shook his head. “The mayor of this town gets his share from the saloon. He’s part owner.”

  “Leave this place, then,” I urged Matthew.

  “And go where?” Matthew asked me. “My folks are dead. I have no reason to go back to Texas.” Matthew looked at me. In his eyes, I could see that he thinking how beautiful I was. His eyes hungered to hold me in his arms and gently kiss me. In my heart, I hungered to be held and to be kissed, to be loved by a good man and become his wife.

  “Will I sing in these dusty little towns forever? Will you go on wearing a badge in a town that is sour?” I asked Matthew in a soft voice.

  “You can go to San Francisco or Sacramento and sing your pretty songs.”

  “Oh pooh,” I said and rolled my eyes. “Samantha knows I would starve to death if I tried. The truth is, I may sing pretty, but there are hundreds of other girls who sing prettier than me…and who are much more beautiful than me.”

  “I don’t think so,” Matthew said.

  “I do,” I replied in a painful voice. “It’s…difficult when you have, to be honest with yourself. I know…that even if I tried to leave in a fancy city, I would…fail. I’m a bit naive at times, you see…anxious to be famous and always reminding myself to be humble.” I let out a tired laugh. “I’m sure I would fall victim to the first person who said they would turn me into a famous singer and starve after all my money is taken. Samantha has always been around to guide and protect me…but she won’t be around forever.”

  Matthew stopped rubbing the back of his neck. He stood up, walked over to the front door, opened it, looked out into the rain, and then turned and looked me in my eyes. “Ma’am—”

  “Beth, remember.”

  Matthew sighed. “Beth,” he said, “what do you want?”

  “God knows better than me,” I told Matthew. “I have to trust that God has me exactly where I need to be.”

  “Standing in this dusty office with me?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Listen to me,” I told Matthew and walked away from the wooden stove and inched myself toward the front door, “God loves all of us. He didn’t let us be born just to walk out on us. Now I don’t claim to have God’s ways figured out, and I know sometimes I let my heart think more about this world than I should, but I do know that God loves us. How? Because the Bible teaches me that God gave His only Begotten Son to die on a horrible cross for my sins. I don’t see anyone else giving their child to die for my sins.”

 
Matthew stared into my eyes. “I’ve been angry at God for a mighty long time,” he told me.

  “Not mad,” I told Matthew and stopped inches away from him, “just confused. You didn’t know why God let your brother die and wanted answers that you couldn’t find. Now don’t go thinking I’m smart for saying that because it was Samantha who told me those same words after my mother died when I was a very young girl. I was mad at God too.”

  “There’s world of difference between a child being mad and a grown man being angry.”

  “Sure there is,” I smiled, “but in God’s eyes we’re all His children. “Well, I better get back to the hotel. I’m hungry and I have a show to perform tomorrow. Good night.”

  Matthew began moving away from the front door and then stopped. “Beth,” he said in a tender voice.

  “Yes?” I asked looking up into Matthew’s eyes. For a second my heart actually believed he was going to kiss me. Instead, he moved away from the door.

  “Good night.”

  “Good night,” I said and walked out into the rain. And without understanding why, tears began falling from my eyes. I looked back over my shoulder and saw Matthew close the front door to the jail. “What a sad song,” I whispered and hurried back to the hotel. Samantha was standing out on the Veranda. I ran to her, placed my face on her shoulder, and cried. “I want to leave this town when morning arrives. Please, don’t make me sing.”

  “Okay,” Samantha promised and pulled me into her arms. “I guess I was wrong in hoping that man was good inside of his heart.”

  Two days later Samantha and I drove into another dusty little town that wasn’t much different from the one we left. We checked into a hotel that was nearly identical from the hotel in the town Matthew had shot Jared Logger dead in. We ate a steak dinner that tasted like the steak we had eaten two days before, and then went to bed. The following morning Samantha walked me down a dry, hot street, toward a small theater house. A short, fat, plump man was standing outside on a wooden sidewalk waiting for us. Samantha gave me a stern look and shook her head at me, the way she always did when she was preparing to negotiate a deal. I sighed and looked around the town. I spotted a saloon, a general store, a lawyer’s office, a jail, and other little shops that didn’t offer much to the imagination. My heart sank. I was missing Matthew. Why? I didn’t know. I barely knew the man. Yet my heart yearned for him. “Three nights,” the fat, plump man told Samantha and wiped sweat from his forehead and then straightened out the gray suit he was wearing. “I’ll pay the same for each night, no matter the size of the crowd.”