by Natalie Dean
“I wouldn’t say that,” Mrs. Paulson said shifting her larger girth to look over her husband’s shoulder. “After miles of nothing but grass and mountains, anything even remotely civilized is welcome. Don’t you agree, Mrs. Dixon?”
“I suppose,” Bernadette said. “Though, truth be told, I prefer the sight of mountains to saloons. I suppose I am a bit odd that way.”
Bernadette could not help but smile when the old woman gave her a very strange look and focused back on the road.
She’d known many older women like Mrs. Paulson in Philadelphia. The sort who were never satisfied with anything no matter what it was. If it was sunny, they always preferred cloudy days. If it was cloudy, they complained about the dreary gray skies.
Her small smile was almost thrown off her lips when the wagon lurched forward, and they came to a stop outside the hotel next to the bank building.
“Oh, dear! I fear I shall never get used to that,” Mrs. Paulson said, a hand clenched dramatically to her heart.
Bernadette tried to think of another politely cutting remark to give the older woman as the hired coachman opened the doors for them. Before she could say anything, however, the coachman opened the door and began escorting the passengers out.
They were met by a large and harried looking woman who rushed towards them from the inside of the hotel.
“Welcome at last!” she said. “We’ve been expecting you for some time. And I am sure you have all had quite the journey. I am Mrs. Matthews, the owner of the hotel. You will find your rooms prepared for you and I’ll have Robert take your luggage inside.”
She motioned for a young man, more of a boy behind her who rushed out to the wagon and began taking the sacks from the bottom of the carriage.
The Paulson’s nodded their thanks to Mrs. Matthews and hurried inside as quickly as they could. Bernadette made to do the same but, before she could, the man from the church who had followed behind the wagon made his way towards them.
“This must be Mrs. Dixon,” the man said giving her a genuine smile, though there now seemed to be a hint of sadness behind his bright eyes.
“Pastor Rhodes,” Mrs. Matthews said moving from Bernadette to greet the man. “I was just about to ask the young lady the same thing. Poor Matt’s been waiting for her for hours. Mrs. Dixon dear, I assume you are Mrs. Dixon? This is Pastor Rhodes. He’ll be performing the marriage ceremony between you and Matt next week.”
She said all this very quickly. So much so that Bernadette could not help but nod at the acknowledgment of her name. She glanced from the jolly but intimidating looking woman over to the pastor who gave her a sympathetic smile.
“It seems as though you’ve had a long journey,” he said evenly. “I hope you do not mind my intrusion. However, I thought it was best if I met the bride I would be marrying before the wedding day.”
“Oh, I’m certain Mrs. Dixon doesn’t mind,” Mrs. Matthews said before Bernadette could answer. “After all, she’s not even met her groom face to face yet!”
“It is very true Pastor Rhodes,” Bernadette said before Mrs. Matthews could continue. “I am never too weary to meet a friendly face.”
“You see, Pastor?” Mrs. Matthews said giving the younger man a roll of her eyes. “You are far too considerate for your own good sometimes.”
“I am not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult,” Pastor Rhodes said with half a laugh that caused Bernadette to give a small smile.
“Consider it both young man,” Mrs. Matthews said with a half-smile on her face.
“Well,” Mr. Rhodes said. “I am certainly glad to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Dixon. I know Mr. Jacobs has been praying that God might send him a good wife for some time.”
“I gather then that Mr. Jacobs is a Christian man,” Bernadette said interested. Mattathias Jacobs had never mentioned religion in his letters to her. Still, the fact that the town pastor was on such friendly terms with her new groom gave her a sort of hope. Perhaps Mattathias would be more like Frank than she imagined.
“He has become more so recently,” the pastor said. “I am sure he will want to tell you about his journey in his own time. Once again, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dixon. If you have need of anything, feel free to ask. The church is always open.”
With that, he tipped his hat to both ladies and made his way back towards his church on the other side of the street.
“Such a sweet man,” Mrs. Matthews said quickly taking Bernadette by the arm. “It is only a wonder that he has not married yet.”
“I am not sure I’ve heard of a pastor who was not married,” Bernadette said, once again interested.
“Well, I am certain you have noticed our lack of eligible young ladies in the territory,” Mrs. Matthews said with a little sniff. “If that were not the case, there would be no need for nice young men like your Matt to write to young ladies back east. Speaking of which, your groom has been waiting for you nearly the whole day. We were expecting you a good deal sooner. I’ll take you to him now.”
Mrs. Matthews grabbed Bernadette’s arm and began to walk her away from the carriage in which she had come and around the side of the building. The older lady talked quickly all the while.
“I am certain you will find our little town very satisfactory,” she said. “Laramie is a small town, but we are growing rapidly. And you will not find a more tightly knit community anywhere. Here, everyone is friendly towards everyone else. You rarely hear of disputes in the town like you do in other places out west. Oh! And here is Mattathias!”
Bernadette looked straight forward and felt her heart constrict in her chest.
A tall man, slender, with bright blue eyes and curly hair was looking back at her. His hat was twisting nervously in his large hands. Tied up behind him, she could see another horse hitched to a much smaller wooden wagon.
This, she knew, was Mattathias Jacobs.
He had sent her a picture of himself. However, as pictures often do, it distorted the true man considerably.
He was taller than she’d expected. His frame was slender, but it fit his height nicely. As she moved towards him, however, it was his eyes that grabbed her attention. They were brighter and larger than they’d looked in his picture.
Those bright blue eyes met hers, and Bernadette felt a strange flipping in her chest as her cheeks went warm. That was strange. She hadn’t felt that since the last time she’d seen Frank.
“Mattathias!” Mrs. Matthews said amiably. “I’ve brought your bride to you! But, of course, you two don’t need strangers about. Not when you’re only just meeting face to face. I’ll head back and take care of my guests while you two get acquainted.”
With that, Mrs. Matthews hurried back towards the hotel leaving Bernadette feeling strangely naked in front of her new fiancé. She turned back to him and swallowed hard trying to find her bearings.
Finally, she cleared her throat and managed to affect the charming smile her mother had taught her. Her mother had always insisted that Bernadette use this smile when she was being introduced to eligible young men.
And, though Bernadette knew her mother would cringe if she knew her daughter was about to turn this charm on for a lowly cattle rancher, Bernadette found she could not help it. It was a habit from her old life that she was loathed to break.
“Mr. Jacobs,” she said, graciously holding her hand out to him. “I am Bernadette Dixon. A pleasure to make your acquaintance at last.”
Mr. Jacobs did not take the hand that was offered to him. Instead, he looked carefully at Bernadette then down at her offered hand as though he didn’t know what she expected him to do with it.
For a moment, she considered taking the proffered hand back. However, she had never known a gentleman not to take a hand offered to him by a lady. In polite society, that would be an awful slight. And, though she recognized that, in many ways, she had departed from her parent’s societal ideals, some of the lessons they’d taught remained with her.
So
, she kept her hand outstretched and cleared her throat, hoping to bring Mr. Jacobs attention to it. At the sound of her throat clearing his eyes widened and his cheeks colored just a bit.
“Oh, yes. Pleased to meet you,” he said, awkwardly taking her hand and shaking it so hard that her entire arm moved along with it. It was the kind of handshake a man would give to another man. Certainly, not the gentle hold or kiss a man would proffer on a lady.
Bernadette felt her charmed smile droop slightly.
“Do you…er…have any baggage with you?” Mr. Jacobs asked. His bright blue eyes moving to the ground.
“Only one trunk. I believe the coachman is taking it down from the wagon now,” Bernadette said. Mr. Jacobs nodded.
“I’ll fetch it and get it into the back of my wagon. Then we can start off.”
Bernadette’s eyes widened and narrowed at the man in front of her. He moved past her towards the wagon where the coachman was taking down her trunk. She followed quickly behind him.
“Pardon me, Mr. Jacobs, where exactly are we starting off to?”
In the letter containing his proposal, they had specifically made plans for her to stay at the Laramie hotel for one week until the wedding. After weeks of riding in a rickety wagon, she had been looking forward to staying put for at least one evening.
“I didn’t get the chance to write you before you set out,” he said. “There’s been a change of plans. Mr. Miles said that he’d like for you to stay at the ranch until the wedding. We’ve made up a guest room for you.”
“And who is Mr. Miles?” Bernadette asked following him back to his small wagon as he carried her heavy trunk so easily that it appeared to weigh nothing. “I was under the impression that you owned a small farm. Not a ranch.”
Mr. Jacob’s cheeks went pink again, and he determinedly avoided her gaze as he pushed the trunk into the wagon.
“I may have…exaggerated a bit about the farm,” he admitted finally. “I do not own it yet. I have made plans to purchase it outright within the coming weeks. Mr. Miles is helping me get the paperwork together.”
Mr. Jacobs climbed onto the front seat of the wagon and offered a hand to help Bernadette up. This time, it was Bernadette’s turn to ignore the hand held out to her. She narrowed her eyes at the man in the wagon, her arms crossing over her too full chest.
“Am I to understand, Mr. Jacobs,” she said as coolly as she could. “That you, currently, own no property at all.”
Mr. Jacobs pursed his lips and heaved a frustrated sigh. The embarrassed pink in his cheeks had disappeared, and he now looked at Bernadette with equal disapproval.
“I expected to have purchased the property before you arrived,” he said. “There were several setbacks. But, I can assure you, shortly after we are married, we will have a home of our own.”
“You are assuming, Mr. Jacobs, that I will still agree to a wedding,” she said, her voice growing sharper. “Given that I have been brought here under false pretenses, I am not certain our agreement still stands.”
Now he gave a hearty roll of his eyes, his hand still held out to her retreating slightly.
“Mrs. Dixon, I would be more than happy to leave you here for the evening if you refuse to come with me,” he said. “And, if you decide not to go through with this arrangement, well…I’m not the kind of man to force a woman to hold to something if she’d rather not.”
For half a moment, Bernadette considered agreeing to this. She considered staying at the hotel overnight and hiring passage back to Pennsylvania in the morning.
But, when she opened her mouth to agree to these terms, she felt a light kick against her stomach. The large stomach still hidden beneath a multitude of skirts that she used to conceal her condition.
It was as though the child in her womb was gently reminding his mother of their circumstances. Bernadette had nowhere left to go, even in Pennsylvania. Lizzie had already rented out the room that Bernadette had recently vacated. Bernadette’s parents would never stoop to allowing their disgraced pregnant daughter to return under their roof. Even the death of Bernadette’s husband, she knew, would not soften their hearts toward her.
She looked back up at Mr. Jacobs, his bright blue eyes still fixed on her brown ones. With a sigh of acceptance, she slowly took his hand as he lifted her up into the small wagon.
His hands were callused and rough. Rougher than any of the men she’d met in Philadelphia high society. Even so, there was a warmth to them. Something she hadn’t felt in many other men. Even Frank’s hands, when they first touched at a dinner in Philadelphia had a certain coolness to them.
Mattathias Jacobs’ hands felt unpretentious, if one could feel such things through touch. When she looked up at the man to whom the hand belonged, he certainly looked unpretentious and simple enough. However, the warmth that his hands hinted at could not be seen at all in his eyes or facial expression.
Their hands dropped as soon as she was seated.
Without so much as another glance toward her, he threw the horses reins, and they started out down yet another rocky dirt path.
As they tilted and bumped along the terrain, Bernadette’s initial fears seemed confirmed.
She closed her eyes and silently prayed to God that she had not just made the worst mistake of her life.
Chapter 3
“So, this is the lucky bride!”
A man with slick dark hair and a mustache who appeared to be in his mid-thirties met them as they pulled up to the large ranch home.
With a bright smile, which would have put her mother’s fake charm to shame, he moved towards the wagon as Mr. Jacobs pulled the horses to a stop.
“Evenin’ Mr. Miles,” Mr. Jacobs said. “This is Mrs. Bernadette Dixon.”
Bernadette saw Mr. Jacobs climb down from the wagon and begin to make his way towards the other side, presumably to see her down safely. Before he could, however, the slick haired Mr. Miles appeared at her side, gallantly offering his hand to bring her down.
“Mrs. Dixon,” he said. “What a pleasure to meet you at last. Matt has told us so much about you.”
Mr. Miles lifted her hand to his lips and placed a gallant kiss upon them, just as her smarmy young suitors had done at balls before she’d met and married Frank Dixon. And, the expression that she saw in Mr. Miles’ face made her like him about as much as she’d liked those suitors.
His dark, beady eyes looked up at her as though she were a prize to be won rather than a human being and the ostentatious greeting which he gave was certainly less genuine than Mr. Jacob’s own awkward ‘hello.'
“It is good that one of us knows something of the other,” Bernadette replied. “Mr. Jacobs failed to mention you entirely in his letters.”
Bernadette had hoped to wipe at least a bit of the smug smile off Mr. Miles face with that statement. Mr. Miles, however, did not look at all perturbed. Indeed, he laughed at this.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “Well, we had both hoped that Matt would have his own homestead by now. We may have been a little more optimistic than the bank. I am sure you are aware how slowly these things can go.”
“I hope they do not go too slowly,” Bernadette said. “After living off the kindness of relatives for the past three years, I am eager to have my own home.”
“Of course,” Mr. Miles said. “And I am sure you must be exhausted from your journey. Matt, why don’t you take Mrs. Dixon’s trunk to her room in the back of the house. I’ll have Billy get the supper ready.”
Bernadette could not help but be surprised at this order. From the way Mr. Miles was speaking, it was as though he, and not Mr. Jacobs, was her host. As if Mr. Jacobs was nothing more than a hired hand, a servant meant to see to the guest's needs.
She turned to Mattathias to see how he might take this. To her surprise, the much taller and clearly stronger Mattathias nodded to Mr. Miles subserviently and grabbed her trunk from the back of the wagon.
“If you’ll follow me, Mrs. Dixon,” he said awkwardly.
> With a curious glance at Mr. Miles, she turned and began to follow her fiancé. Before she got too far, Mr. Miles voice stopped her.
“We’ll give you about an hour until dinner,” he called to them. “Clean up and be back here by then.”
Bernadette, who had never been ordered to appear by a man who was neither her husband nor her father, could not help but feel more than a bit affronted by this order. She opened her mouth to give him a sharp rebuke. Before she could, however, she felt Mr. Jacob’s warm hand land lightly on her arm, stopping her from speaking.
“We’ll be there, Mr. Miles,” he said. Quickly, hand still placed lightly on her arm, he turned her away from the ranch owner and, taking up her trunk again, began to march towards the back of the ranch house.
“I know he seems uppity,” Mr. Jacobs said as soon as Mr. Miles and the wagon had faded from view. “But, he’s a decent man. He gave me a job when I first arrived. He found a small abandoned farm for sale. He’s even helping me secure a loan from the bank. Once you get to know him, you’ll like him better.”
Bernadette wanted to say that she had no intention of getting to know Mr. Miles more than was necessary. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if it was wise to remain here at all. The more she discovered about the situation to which she had promised herself, the more she began to think that returning to Philadelphia penniless and homeless was not such an unthinkable option.
A slight lurch from the child in her stomach, once again, made her reconsider this.
So, instead of saying anything against his employer, Bernadette asked a question that had been plaguing her since Mr. Jacobs told her of his plans to purchase a farm.
“I was not aware that it was so difficult to acquire land out West,” she said. “I believed most of the land to be in public domain.”
“In a lot of places, it is,” he said. “But, when the owners of the farm I’ve had my eye on left, they sold to the bank in town. Now the bank won’t sell it without a written application and some kind of collateral.”
