Emily: Army Mail Order Bride

by Mercy Levy

  John nodded his head. “Gennifer knew how to manipulate the drunks,” John told Greta in a shameful voice. “Her outwardly looks fooled me because I didn't have enough sense to see the truth. I was a blind horse running straight into a trap.” John looked at Greta. “You're so beautiful. What does a woman like you want with a low life like me?”

  “You weren't a low life when you walked into the church carrying a Bible,” Greta told John in a soft, caring, voice. “John, when you walked into the church carrying a Bible, you were a man, a real man. For the first time, I saw the man your son needed you to be. I also saw the man I knew you could be.”

  “You sure walloped me on the arm mighty good,” John smiled.

  “I was attempting to knock some sense into you and the sin out of you,” Greta smiled back. “John, I love Mark. Please, let me adopt him.”

  John didn't know what to say. “But he's my son,” he told Greta in a desperate voice.

  “If I adopt Mark and we get married, then that makes you his legal parent,” Greta explained. “I've gone and spoken with Judge Green. The man has no intention of ever allowing you to retain custody of Mark.”

  “Judge Green wants to see me hang,” John admitted.

  “If we get married and leave Brown Ridge and move to Sacramento, Judge Green will have no authority over you or Mark,” Greta explained.

  “Married!” John exclaimed. “Now hold on a minute…I mean, I'm almost penniless. I can't afford to get married right now. And what would I do in Sacramento? Besides, didn't you come west to be a teacher? Also, you deserve better than me.”

  Greta gently touched the bars separating her from John. “I deserve who I choose,” she told John. “The man I see in your eyes, the man who walked into the church carrying his Bible, that's the man I deserve.”

  John felt scared. How could such a beautiful, pure, woman choose him to be her husband? What was he but a saddle bum that barely managed to run ten cent ranch that earned enough money to buy a few bags of flour and sugar? “I'm poor,” he said miserably. “I ain't got nothing to offer you or my son.”

  “All we ask for is your love. Isn't that all God asks for?” Greta asked John. “Take my hands, please.”

  John looked at Greta's small and fragile hands. He carefully wrapped his rough, callous-scarred hands around her hands. Greta smiled into John's eyes. “God will show us the way, together. We must have faith, though. Do you have faith?”

  “Standing behind these bars, I'm not so sure,” John admitted.

  “I'm going to leave you alone. When I leave, you need to pray, John. Pray from your heart and see what God tells you.”

  “I... sure, okay,” John told Greta even though his heart wasn't sincere. Doubt was clearly destroying the peace John had attained.

  Before Greta could speak, the sheriff walked in. “John, Judge Green has set the trial date for this afternoon,” he said in a steady voice.

  “So soon?” John asked but wasn't surprised. “That old buzzard has--” John paused and looked into Greta's beautiful eyes. “I mean, Judge Green doesn't like me none.”

  “Maybe not,” the sheriff agreed, “But the men in this town know you. A fair jury will be picked, you can count on that. Don't matter how Judge Green sees you, just the jury. You've got a lot working for you here, John. The body of Gennifer was found outside of Carson City's county line by a mere few yards, putting the murder in my jurisdiction. I just found this out yesterday. I was mighty surprised and mighty happy. I thought I was going to have to give you over to the Sheriff in Carson City, and those men over that way might have wanted you to hang no matter what.”

  John felt a small, warm, sense of hope enter his stomach. “Okay, Sheriff, I'll be ready for the trial.”

  “Ma’am, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” the Sheriff told Greta. “Visiting hours are over for now.”

  Greta patted John's hand with love. “Pray, John, and you will see a miracle this day.”

  Greta thanked the sheriff for his time and left the jail. Returning back to the church, she sat down in a front pew and began to pray for John. A few minutes later, Matthew appeared. “Rosie is tending to Mark in the back,” he explained sitting down next to Greta.

  Something in Matthew's face caught Greta's heart. “Matthew?” she asked.

  Matthew smiled and then frowned as if his mind was in a battle. Calmly, he pulled out a telegram. “I received a telegram from a friend in Sacramento. My friend wants me to relocate and manage a church that recently lost its preacher.”

  “I see,” Greta said in a sad voice. “You will be leaving then?”

  “Oh no,” Matthew laughed, “My place is here, in Brown Ridge. I have much work to do. However...” Matthew looked at Greta. “John could go in my place.”

  Greta stared at Matthew in Shock. “Matthew, that would be wonderful,” she said and then became sad. “But you would not see Mark very often.”

  “Oh,” Matthew smiled and patted Greta's hand, “God has His ways.”

  Greta smiled and began to tell Matthew how grateful she was when a man wearing a dark gray suit walked into the church. The man, Greta immediately noticed, was carrying a deadly expression and poison eyes, all hidden under a gray hat. The man was also carrying a hostage with him. She looked down and saw that he was shoving a gun into John's side. “Stay calm,” John begged Greta and Matthew.

  “You were supposed to hang,” Brad Mitchell told John in a furious voice. “You killed my brother! And what happened? A few measly yards stopped you from being sentenced in Carson City. I sent Gennifer to kill you, but she failed! She said she couldn't because of the baby. It was me who burned down your ranch, not Gennifer. But she paid with her life, didn't she? I killed her for failing me.”

  Matthew stood up and eased Greta behind him. “This is a church. How dare you!”

  “Pa, he's already knocked the sheriff cold,” John warned Matthew.

  “Don't worry, I didn't come here to kill you or the preacher. I've come to kill the woman,” Brad hissed at Matthew. “I stood outside the window and listened to you to talk. You want to get married, do you?”

  John glanced down at the gun shoved into his side. One wrong move, and he would be eating lead. “You're going to hang,” he promised.

  “Maybe,” Brad said, “But first I'm going to make you suffer for destroying my life. I had a good job at the bank in Virginia City. I was going to get married. But then came news that Nate was killed. The news put my mother in her grave and sent my Pa into the bottle!”

  “Nate Mitchell was a killer,” John told Brad.

  “He was my brother,” Brad hollered and shoved John down into a pew. “Move out of the way of the woman, preacher,” he ordered Matthew.

  “No,” Matthew answered bravely. “You will have to kill me first.”

  “Get out of the way,” Brad warned a second time.

  John stared at Matthew. There was nothing he could do. If he tried to charge at Brad, the man would send a bullet into his chest before he could get up one leg. “Shoot me if you must,” Matthew said shielding Greta with his body. Suddenly, a memory came rushing into John's mind. He saw Matthew shielding the bodies of wounded men with his own as bullets raced through the air. His pa had not been a coward the day the wagon train was attacked. “I'm warning you for the last time!” Brad shouted.

  Greta stared at John and then closed her eyes and began to pray. John understood. He closed his eyes and began to pray with Greta. “I fear God who can kill the body and spirit, not man who can only kill my body,” Matthew told Brad.

  “So be it,” Brad growled and fired his gun at Matthew. The bullet missed. “What?” Brad said and fired again. The second bullet missed Matthew. Brad kept firing. Each bullet missed Matthew. “This can't be!” Brad yelled and began to reload his gun.

  John opened his eyes and charged at Brad. Brad, standing in shock, didn't even notice John come at him. All he felt was a hard fist slam up against his head. He fell backw
ard into a pew and tumbled down onto the floor. The gun in his hand came loose and fell away. “I'll kill you!” Brad yelled trying to fight John.

  John was much stronger and quicker than Brad. His fist came as quick as lighting and landed with the sound of thunder. Brad struggled against John's fist, but when John raised his right fists into the air and brought it down into his face with a power that seemed to shake the ground, Brad knew his end had come.

  Shaking his head in disgust, John crawled off of Brad and stood up. As he did, the sheriff rushed into the church rubbing the back of his head. When he saw Brad lying unconscious on the floor, he nodded his head at John. “I was hoping that rat wouldn't get far,” he said.

  “Are you alright,” Matthew asked the sheriff.

  “Yeah,” the sheriff said a little embarrassed. “Stepped outside to have a puff when that rat appeared. He wanted to speak to me inside the jail. As soon as I walked inside the jail, everything went dark.”

  Greta hurried to John. “Are you okay?” she asked taking John's bloody fists into her little hands.

  John looked deep into Greta's eyes. Gently, he leaned forward and kissed her. “I want to marry you,” he whispered. “I know now that God brought us together. Our prayers saved my pa.” John looked at Matthew. “You're not a coward, Pa. You never were. Can you forgive me?”

  Matthew wrapped his arms around John and nearly cried. “My son,” he said with joy.

  Rosie appeared with Mark in her arms. “He wants his mother,” she told Greta.

  Greta smiled and gently took Mark into her arms. “Hello, Mark,” she said looking down into a warm, smiling face.

  John put his arm around and looked at his son. “Sheriff, can I have a minute with my son before you take me back to the jail?” he asked.

  “I'm not taking you anywhere,” the sheriff told John in a calm voice. “If Judge Green don't like that, let them vote in another sheriff come spring.”

  “Speaking of spring,” Matthew said and smiled, “I received a telegram from a friend in Sacramento.” Matthew handed John the telegram.

  “Well, I'll be. So you'll be leaving Brown Ridge, Pa?” he asked.

  “Not me,” Matthew explained. “John, you're ready to be a preacher. I want to send you, Greta, and Mark in my place. I belong in Brown Ridge and--”

  “Nope,” the sheriff interrupted.

  “Sheriff?” Matthew asked confused.

  “It's time you have a rest,” the sheriff told Matthew. Walking to a pew, he sat down. “This town needs a school teacher, and that little lady is person for the job. This town needs a preacher, a man who can get the job done. I'm not saying you don't get the job done, Preacher, but some men in this town see you as old and soft. We need a hard touch.”

  Matthew considered the sheriff's words. “I guess I have become...a little...soft,” he agreed. Then, he smiled and patted John on the shoulder. “My son, I will be going to Sacramento after all. You will take over here, in my place. I will leave come spring.”

  “Oh, we'll have the New Year’s together,” Greta said happily.

  “Of course,” Matthew smiled, “And just enough time for me to perform a very special wedding.”

  John looked at Greta. “If you'll have me?” he asked.

  “Forever,” Greta promised and placed her head down on John's shoulder. Outside, a soft and gentle snow began to fall.

  *

  Sitting in the dining room of the hotel, Matthew looked around at all the familiar faces. Then, he focused on Greta, who was holding Mark in her arms. “Everyone,” Matthew said tapping a water glass with a knife, “As you can hear, a mighty blizzard is outside. But, here we are, all together, safe and warm, preparing to eat our New Year meal together.”

  John looked into Greta's beautiful face and smiled. He couldn’t believe the woman was now his wife. “Together,” he whispered.

  “And as the New Year begins, we must remember what the old year taught us,” Matthew continued, “The old year was filled with much pain, sorrow, anger, grief, and sadness. Yet, the Lord was merciful and granted us with healing before the year could end and a new year could begin. And we must take that blessed healing and approach this New Year with hope, love, charity and compassion toward one another.” Matthew smiled down at John. “With that said, I have some news. I will be leaving Brown Ridge come spring.”

  The people in the dining room looked at each other, stunned at the news. Greta patted John's hand. John nodded his head and stood up. “I will be taking over for Pa at the church,” he explained in a nervous voice. “Now, I know I ain't much when it comes to public speaking and all, but I sure plan to do my best to serve the Lord with love, compassion, charity, and truth. I spent too many years being a spur in the foot of this town. Now I want to be a light if y’all will let me, that is.”

  Greta stood up with Mark in her hands. She glanced at a grumpy old man who frowned at John. It didn't matter to her if Judge Green approved or not. “I will stay on as a school teacher, too,” she explained, her thick German accent strong and steady. “My husband and I will raise our son to be a good member of this community and to serve its citizens with love and care.”

  John looked at Judge Green. “Every man deserves a second chance, right Judge?” he asked.

  Judge Green huffed and then simply shrugged his shoulders. “I'll be keeping an eye on you, John. However, yes, every man deserves a second chance.”

  “So if y’all will let me,” John continued to speak as the blizzard outside howled and screamed, “I would like to be your preacher. But before you say yes, let me say something. I plan to serve God without backing down. I ain't the same man I was a few weeks ago.”

  Greta spotted the old woman who had called John sour. The old woman stared at John with suspicious eyes and then smiled. She saw Greta staring at her and winked. Greta winked back. “I will stand by my husband's side,” Greta told everyone, “And together we will do what is right in God's Eyes.”

  “What's the vote?” Matthew asked.

  The people in the dining room looked around at each other. Then, they all looked at John and smiled. “We have faith in you, John,” a rugged looking man said in a proud voice. “And we know your wife will teach our children the right way.”

  “And if you step out of line, Greta will whack you with an ax handle again,” the old woman laughed.

  John rubbed his shoulder. “I remember,” he said and smiled at Greta. “My wife sure knocked some sense into my stubborn head.”

  Greta leaned against John with Mark in her arms. “And now we're a family,” she said in a voice so happy she almost began crying. “Oh, John, we were all so broken and now we're a family. We have each other to love and take care of. I'm so happy.”

  “You know what?” John asked and kissed Greta gently on her nose.

  “What?” Greta asked fighting back her tears.

  “This is just the beginning. Now, let's eat,” he said and touched Mark gently on his little nose.

  Greta sat down with Mark. Matthew leaned over and whispered in her ear: “God is very wonderful.”

  Looking down at Mark and then up at John, Greta allowed a tear to fall from her eye. “Yes, He is.”

  Outside the blizzard howled and screamed. But with all storms, the blizzard would eventually go away, and spring would come, but Greta knew spring had come early in her heart.

  THE END

  Dear Captain Ross

  1. Yorkshire, England

  The wind played along the edge of the Dalby forest, spinning fallen leaves into the paddock where Stella smoothed Pumpernickel’s freshly combed coat with a finishing brush. He flicked his braided tail and watched the ribbon she’d run through it over one shiny, muscled brown shoulder. Stella’s shoulders sagged as she finished smoothing the old quarter horse. She was going to London soon, and didn’t know if or when she would see her best friend again.

  As Stella dropped the brush in the old wooden bucket with the combs and files she had already
used on him, Pumpernickel offered her a hoof for examination, just as he had a hundred times before. The horse’s unfailing attention to his beauty regimen coaxed a chuckle from the brooding young woman, and she obediently checked each freshly cleaned and filed hoof one last time for damage or infections. As always, every inch of his trembling cinnamon hide was perfect. She handed the pail to her mother and opened the gate of the paddock to release Pumpernickel into the upper pasture.

  Pumpernickel halted in the middle of the gate and stared at Stella, who feigned confusion for a long moment. He stomped one manicured hoof at her, making her laugh again, before she pulled a small, green and red apple from her pocket and held it in her palm under his muzzle. The gentle old dandy carefully lipped her hand and drew the apple into his mouth, his large front teeth tickling her palm where they grazed her. Stella leaned in for a hug around his broad neck, and the satisfied Pumpernickel cantered into the pasture to pester the mares, sweeping his beribboned tail in long strokes from side to side, showing off for his ladies.

  “That ridiculous old fart.” Stella’s mother laughed as they watched their small herd cavort in the tall, waving grass. “You’d think he had a reason to flirt with the old girls. Seems he never did figure out what made him different from the other boys.” She snorted. Stella chuckled and watched the horses play through tear-blurred eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t notice where all my Yorkshire Greening’s have been going, either” She admonished, swatting her daughter on the rear-end gently. “You’d best go pick a few more, or there will be no pie with dinner tonight.” Stella smiled at her mother and stepped down from her perch on top of the paddock fence.

  “Of course, Mum.” Stella replied as she retook possession of the grooming pail and slipped out of the coverall she was wearing over her dress. “I’ll just put these away and go pick an apron-full.” Mallory Kingsfoot had not stopped worrying about her daughter since she’d first written home from nursing school to inform her parents she’d been accepted into Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Nursing Service.