by Carré White
As the oxen plodded along, I kept a sharp eye out for the fort, scanning the horizon often, searching for anything that looked manmade. It would be several hours before smoke in the distance sent a murmur through the caravan, a sense of excitement propelling those before us to encourage their animals to walk faster.
“That must be it.” Father pointed. “Hope it didn’t burn down.”
“If only I knew where the spyglass was,” said mother. “I’ve packed things too well. It would be useful to have it.”
“It’s the fort. We don’t need anything special to see it. We’ll be there in another hour or two.”
Knowing that I was in sight of Fort Laramie, my stomach began to buzz with nervous energy. My future husband was waiting for me. I would be married tomorrow and tomorrow night…oh, I couldn’t think of such things. If he were a gentleman, he wouldn’t demand his conjugal rights immediately, especially since we were strangers. I had hoped he would give me some time to get to know him, but this was only a guess.
The road followed the gentle climb of the foothills, winding its way towards the northward flowing Laramie River, which joined with the Platte River to the south. The fort was larger than I had expected, its walls formidable, hiding the buildings that lay within. Our wagon master guided us to a vast grassy area, where the animals would be able to feed to their heart’s content.
In a fit of nerves, I began to fuss with my hair, tucking in wayward strands that had blown free of confinement. I could only pray there wasn’t dirt on my face. It had been gusty earlier, but the dust hadn’t blown as badly.
Mother placed her hand over mine. “Don’t fret, my dear. You look lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“He might not even be here yet,” said father. “We’ve made good time.” He stepped from the wagon. “Need to unyoke these animals. Bet they’re starving.”
“I’ll start on lunch.”
I gazed at the chaos, as families let their children run free, while unloading tents. It was a treat to be able to remain in one place for a while, and I eyed the river, delighted by its proximity. Washing up would be easy. While lunch was prepared, father had gone to the fort, eager to buy provisions. I expected him to return with my betrothed, knowing that he was here…somewhere. There had been another group of settlers that had arrived before us, but they were only six wagons. Ours held nearly fifty. As tents sprung up and children settled down, a lazy pall descended, and many took this opportunity to either wash up in the river, do laundry, or nap. I waited for father’s return, wondering what was taking him so long. When my impatience would not be held back another moment, I set out to find him, strolling amongst campfires, listening to dozens of conversations.
“There’s that pretty darlin’,” said a male voice.
“Come say hello to us, girly.”
I glanced at a swarthy group of miners. “Good day, sirs.” They sat by a fire, although they had let it burn out.
“You sure are a pretty thing.”
Ducking my head, I hid beneath the brim of the bonnet, embarrassment coloring my cheeks. I was hardly a beauty, although these men had been without female companionship for weeks. That explained their boldness, but it was still rude. I sent out a silent prayer that my future husband wasn’t as coarse, but one had to wonder.
Rounding a wagon, I approached the towering adobe structure before me, spying the doors. A line of homesteaders waited to go in, but I didn’t want to stand in it, suspecting father was inside already. I lingered in the heat, feeling lightheaded. Leaning against a fence, I stared at the dirt beneath my feet, spying a line of black ants.
“There you are.”
“Where have you been?”
“Don’t you want to meet your fiancé, my dear? I found him, Fanny.”
I tamped down a moment of sheer panic, my heart hammering in my chest. Afraid to look at the man who stood next to my father, I forced myself to do so, seeing someone who wasn’t much taller than I was, even with a hat on. He didn’t look like the man in the calotype print, and I assumed the picture had been taken several years ago. He wore trousers and a faded calico shirt, with a thick leather belt. A weapon hung within a holster at his thigh and scuffed boots were on his feet. I swallowed a fair amount of disappointment, realizing that I didn’t care for his looks one bit, especially the bland, yet curious, expression on his face, which was hidden by a substantial beard.
He held out a weathered hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Fanny Hoffman.”
“H-hello.” I gave him my hand, which he brought awkwardly to his mouth, kissing several fingers. “How do you do?”
“I’m sure glad you showed up, Miss. I was startin’ to worry that you’d changed your mind about our arrangement.”
His speech held a hint of twang, which was slightly grating. “I…we’ve been on schedule, sir.”
“Looks like you showed up in one piece. You’re prettier than the drawing.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m a lucky man to have such a pretty wife.”
“Well, we aren’t married yet, sir.”
“Not till tomorrow.” He grinned, flashing chipped, yellow teeth.
“Why don’t you join us at our campsite?” Father smiled amiably, clearly finding the situation amusing. “My wife’s making lunch as we speak.”
“I’d be pleased to join you fine people.” His gaze roamed over me. “And my beautiful wife-to-be. You sure look better in person, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
“Thank you.”
We walked towards our wagon, father prattling on about this and that, but my mind had taken flight. Was this the same person I had been communicating with in all those letters? I felt doubt in that instant, knowing that I would have to covertly question the man, to make sure I wasn’t being deceived. He couldn’t possibly be the same person, could he?
After we said grace, father bending his head to thank the Lord for guiding us this far, we ate fried bacon with slapjacks, which were smothered in molasses. I chewed the food with difficulty, feeling eyes upon me. Mr. Hatch’s interest was acute. He was wholly fixated, and I couldn’t help feeling twinges of revulsion. It was imperative that I have a private discussion with him to assure myself that he was the same person, as in the letters.
Once we had eaten, I took the plates, intending to wash them in the river. “Mr. Hatch. Would you accompany me, sir?”
His smile was off-putting. “I’d be delighted to.”
My parents exchanged a glance, and I thought I saw concern in mother’s eyes. “How long have you been waiting at Fort Laramie?”
“Two days. I got here lickety-split. Denver City’s only a week away, but it was faster cuz I got me a horse.”
“I see.”
“You sure are purdy to look at, Miss Hoffman. Me and you are gonna do just fine, I believe. You’re still gonna marry me, right?”
It was an effort to speak, my throat having constricted. “I…have some questions, sir, if you don’t mind me asking things of a personal nature.”
“Ask all you want.”
“Um…will your family from Arkansas be joining us?”
He looked perplexed. “I ain’t got no family there. I told you I was from Missouri.”
“Oh, my goodness, yes. I’m sorry.” He had passed that portion of the questioning with flying colors…unfortunately. “You have two brothers, correct?”
“Three. Did you read my letters at all?”
“It must be the sun. My mind feels…foggy.” We wandered down to the river. Fort Laramie was bordered by water on both sides. “I won’t be a minute. I have to rinse these.”
He stood nearby, as I bent, washing the metal plates. “You doubt it’s me, huh?”
“What?”
“You’re testing me to see if I’m who I say I am. I got all your letters with me, Fanny. I’d be happy to show ‘em to you to prove that I am Jason Hatch.”
I stood, facing him. “I was making sure, sir. I hope you can f
orgive me, but I had to be certain.”
He grinned. “That’s mighty sensible of you. I’m glad I ain’t marrying no stupid woman. I like a female with some brains.”
His letters were written with a fair amount of eloquence. I now wondered if he had someone else compose them. My spirits had sunk to new lows, knowing that I had to marry this man, but…perhaps I could find a way out. There had to be an escape route. Oh, please, dear Lord. I don’t really have to follow through with my promise, do I?
But, I had agreed to be his fiancé. I had made a promise in good faith. In that moment, it felt as if the earth shifted beneath my feet, the sky suddenly tilting. Perhaps it was the heat or my tumultuous state of mind, but I felt myself swaying, falling, until I landed on the dusty ground in a heap of fabric and petticoats. When I woke, I opened my eyes, staring at the wooden slats of our wagon, the canvas top shielding me from the elements.
“How are you, Fanny?” Mother peered at me, worry lines etched into her forehead. “You fainted, my love.”
“It’s too awful to bear,” I whispered, not knowing who was nearby.
She smiled sympathetically. “I know what you’re referring to. I wish I could offer you some advice. Are you certain it’s him?”
“I asked him questions only the man in the letters would know. It’s him, although I think he might’ve had someone else write them.”
“Perhaps…in time…you might find common ground.”
I sat up abruptly, my stomach clenching. “I can’t go through with it! I…feel nothing for him. Nothing at all.” I grabbed her shoulders. “Oh, please, mother. There has to be a way out of this. Oh, goodness! This is the worst day of my life. The absolute worst!”
“You’ve made a promise, Fanny. You accepted his hand in marriage—”
“I’ve erred greatly. I’ve made a huge mistake. I can’t possibly marry this person. I find him…revolting!”
“I’ll speak to your father about it, but I do believe your bed’s been made. I’m dreadfully sorry.”
“People break engagements all the time. I could just walk away and find another husband in Denver City. My sisters were successful there. I can be too.”
“I don’t know what to say, Fanny. It pains me to see you so distressed.”
“It pains me to have to look…at him. I can’t marry such a man. He’s simple-minded and…and…disgusting.”
“He’s not that bad, my dear. He just needs a bath and a shave. I’m sure he’ll make the effort for the wedding tomorrow.”
The mention of the nuptials set my mouth into a grim line. “I won’t go through with it.”
“Fanny.” There was a hint of warning in her voice. “He knows nothing about your true character either. I’ve been with you these eighteen years, my dear. I know how stubborn you can be. It’s time you grew up and accepted adult responsibilities, just like your sisters. They’ve all settled for men beneath them, and they’re quite happy about it. If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for you.”
My ire had been thoroughly stirred. “He’s just as lowborn as those miners, who whistle and call women ‘my purdy darlin’’.” I glared at her, hating her in that moment. She knew all about my stubbornness, but I possessed a wicked temper to boot. “I can’t believe you won’t side with me on this issue. You’re supposed to want the best for me, not…this…this…disgusting person.”
“Don’t put this off on me.” Now I had angered her. “You were the one who wanted to marry him. You wanted to come to Denver City. I’ve given up my house, my life, and my closest, dearest friends to escort you to this desolate frontier. I have more than supported you, young lady.”
Tears were in my eyes. “My life is ruined.”
“It’s just not how you thought it would be. God has other plans, my love. You have to trust in Him. He’s looking out for you. He’s watching over all of us.”
“He wasn’t this time.” I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a dangerous swell of emotion that would result in an ugly, heaving, crying fit. “Can I have a moment, please? I need…to be by myself.”
“I’m sorry you’re disappointed. I hate to see you so unhappy, but…what’s done is done. I’ll speak to your father, but I doubt it would do any good.”
“This was a horrible mistake. We never should’ve come here.” I flung myself into a pillow, as tears escaped. I couldn’t face any of it at the moment. I just wanted to lie here and die.
Chapter Three
I had managed to pull myself together by supper, phlegmatically accepting my fate. I had made a promise; I had given a stranger my hand in marriage, which had been foolhardy, but I was now expected to follow through with the arrangement. I’d rather fling myself into the Laramie River and drown in the swiftly flowing current, but I did not have that luxury. And death surely would have been preferable.
With a strength I did not know I possessed, I sat next to my husband-to-be and watched as he grasped at chunks of ham, coating the meat in tomato Catsup and tossing it into his mouth. I picked at a red bean pie, eyeing my parents critically, wishing that they weren’t so irritatingly content. My suffering did not seem to bother them in the least.
“When I’m done with this here food, I’d sure like a taste of that pie,” said Jason. “It’s looks mighty good, Miss Fanny.”
“It’s fine. You can have it. I’m not all that hungry.”
“You sure? I don't want to take your food if—”
“Please, have it.” I thrust the plate in his direction, praying that he would be quiet now.
“Thank you.”
The conversation was stilted; my parent’s were frequently the only ones speaking. I had nothing to say, other than commenting on the weather, the travel conditions, and whatever ailments had bothered me. By the time I excused myself for bed, I had developed a crushing headache, the pressure pounding behind my eyes. I longed for the blissful unconsciousness of sleep. Perhaps, when I woke in the morning, all of this would have been a bad dream.
But…it wasn’t. Little relief arrived with the dawn, and I roused myself early, wanting to take a walk in solitude and pray for some sort of escape from the cruel fate that awaited me. I would be married by noon, with the possibility of a wedding night looming. There was a path that ran along the river, but I wasn’t the only one who had come this way, as there were a few men fishing. The coolness of the morning was a welcome respite, but, as soon as the sun appeared, things would grow uncomfortably heated.
I found a spot near the riverbank, sitting on a rock, where I stared at the water. The urge to join the fish and swim away was strong. I longed to escape, but there wasn’t any conceivable way out.
“God,” I whispered. “How can you make me marry someone I have no feelings for? I beg you to reconsider. Please don’t make me do this. Please.” I added, “He’s disgusting. He…is hardly suitable for any young woman. Please, I beg you. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t make me marry him.” I lowered my head, as the tears came. I’d never felt so forlorn before, so powerless. Whatever hopes and dreams I had for my future seemed to have disappeared. How I could possibly enjoy my life from this day forward was a mystery.
When I returned to camp, I was surprised to find everyone awake, and the fire lit. My parents drank coffee, while staring into the flames. I approached. “Where’s Jason?”
“He’s gone to the river, I presume,” said father. “Where have you been?”
“The river.”
“My dear, you look peaked. Are you not feeling well?”
“I am as well as can be expected for someone who is about to face her execution.”
“Oh, Fanny.” Mother seemed to brace herself.
“I want you to know that I’m marrying this person against my will. There isn’t a cell in my body that isn’t thoroughly repulsed by the prospect. The thought that I…might have to…perform…wifely duties with that man makes me want to vomit. I shall never forgive you for making me marry him. Ever. From this day fo
rward, my life is completely ruined. I’m utterly shattered. I shall never recover. I plan to take to my bed, and I never want to see either of you ever again, for as long as I live.”
Mother’s mouth fell open. “Well, she’s in a fine mood.”
“That she is,” chuckled father.
I wanted to pick up rocks and throw them; my anger was so acute. I’d never been in such a fury. The intensity of the emotion was slightly worrying. I knew my behavior was ill-mannered and the words I had spoken were hurtful, but I wasn’t able to control any of it. Things did not improve as the day wore on, and I was forced to dress for the ceremony, wearing a cream-colored gown I had bought for this purpose. When I had purchased the pretty garment, I’d been in a far better state of mind, thinking that the man I would marry was someone handsome, well-mannered, and charming. Jason Hatch was none of these things and never would be.
As we stood before the preacher who presided over the nuptials, my parents were nearby, along with several families we had befriended, wanting to lend their support. None of them knew of my inner turmoil. I schooled my features, swallowed my pride, which felt like a lump in my throat, and within a few, horrible moments, became Mrs. Jason Hatch. I’d never felt worse in my life! Congratulations resonated around us, my parents beamed with happiness, and someone hugged me. I cursed them all, wanting to hide in the wagon and escape, but this was impossible.
The afternoon was celebratory. There was music from a banjo, the happy tune filling the air, while fires had been lit to prepare for a feast of epic proportions. My husband had been given a metal cup, which held whiskey, and it was frequently refilled. I had changed my dress, fearing that the dust would discolor the fabric. I wore a functional calico ensemble with a high neckline. The heat of the sun had dampened the cloth under my arms, and the corset pinched around the ribcage, but I suffered in silence, staring at the simple gold band around my finger, wishing I could toss it into the prairie.
