Brides of Grasshopper Creek

by Faith-Ann Smith

  In the last two weeks, the sound of her gasping was so horrible, there were moments that I pled for it to stop, if only for a few moments, so that I could get some rest. Now that the hallways are silent and the rooms empty, I find my heart crying out for that sound, for any sound that would tell me that my mother was still there, right around the corner, just beyond a door.

  In the same breath, I am grateful for the silence. With each moment that passes without the horrible gasps and coughs that echoed from the walls and made my body shudder, I am reminded that she is at peace now and the pain is no longer tormenting her. She is with my father and the rest of her babies, her dear parents and her siblings. I know that she is truly the fortunate one, and that I should not grieve for her, for she is happy, but for myself, for I am without her.

  Betsy

  Chapter 6

  The spring breeze brushed across my skin, warming my cheeks as if trying to bring the life back into them. I could feel the glider moving beneath me, but I didn’t know whether I was actually pushing it or if it was just reacting to my weight. I didn’t know how long I had been staring out into the street, but when Valerie came out to sit beside me, pressing a glass of lemonade into my hand, I could feel her intense concern.

  "Are you sure this is what you want, Betsy?" Valerie asked softly.

  "Yes," I said, nodding. "I cannot stay here any longer. It is just too painful to walk through the house alone."

  "Have you thought about opening the boarding house again?"

  Valerie slowly stirred her own glass, seeming to want to have something to do with her hands more than needing to blend the drink. I shook my head.

  "I can't. I'm too young to run it myself. It wouldn't be proper. Besides, I can't bear to think of those boys coming again. It would just be too much of a reminder. I can't even bring myself to open most of the rooms. The dark memories there have far outweighed the good ones and I just want to be away from them all."

  "Where are you going to go?" she asked.

  I began to answer that I didn't know when I heard a giggle and looked up to see Valerie's brother Laurence coming down the street toward the house, a tiny blond woman in an elaborate pink dress clinging to his arm as she giggled into a small white glove. I felt my heart tighten and I looked away before my eyes could well with tears.

  "Oh, Betsy," Valerie said, resting her hand on my arm, "don't you pay him any mind. I love my brother, but you are far too good for him. You leave him to Missy Jenkins and let them make each other miserable."

  I tried to manage a weak smile, but her words did little to soothe the pain. Laurence was yet another of the brutal casualties of the year before. After so much time watching the young men with their sweethearts and knowing that one day it would happen for me, I finally thought that I had found love in the sweet boy who grew up next door.

  Too soon, though, I realized that he was nothing more than a dream concocted from the images I had drawn for myself and the pain that I was suffering. I nearly let the whimsical illusions take over and guide me away from my sensibilities. I would never forget the words that he said to me that last night that I spoke to him. That last time I had been looking at him through tears that were filled with betrayal and agony. Now the tears that stung in my eyes were from emptiness.

  I knew that Laurence was saying something as he and Missy passed us, but I couldn't register the words. I waited until I heard the door behind me close, indicating that he had brought Missy inside to visit in the parlor with his mother, to turn back to Valerie.

  "What if I found a husband?"

  "What?" Valerie asked, her face registering the same shock that her voice held.

  "What other way would I have to get away from here and find a new life?"

  "You will have plenty of money from your inheritance and the sale of the house."

  "Money is one thing. It will ensure that I can live comfortably wherever I end up and not have to rely on anyone to take care of me. If I was a widow it would be just fine for me to hire a companion and set out to reestablish myself somewhere. As a young, unmarried woman, though, I just don't have that option. You know that most of the wagon trains won't even let a single woman travel on them."

  "The eligible men here…" Valerie began but I stopped her with a shake of my head.

  "I don't want any of the men around here. If I married into one of these families, I would never leave. I would be stuck here, just living some semblance of the life that I was meant to, but will never be able to. No. The man I marry must be from somewhere else. He is transportation and name, nothing else."

  "I cannot believe you are talking like this, Betsy. Do you remember when we were just little girls and we used to dream of our weddings?"

  "Of course, I do."

  "Then you remember how excited we were and all of the wonderful plans that we had. We would talk about all of the beautiful flowers that we would have surrounding us and the gorgeous dresses that our mothers would make for us. We said that we would have all of our favorite hymns and would be each other's bridesmaids."

  "Wearing pink," I said with a soft laugh, reminiscing on the conversations that we had had, held down to conspiratorial whispers as we sat amongst the wild flowers in the grass or played with our dolls in our bedrooms.

  "Yes. We even drew those little pictures of what we wanted our cakes to look like. We had so many wonderful ideas. The most important thing that we thought about, though, was the groom who would be waiting for us at the end of the aisle. We dreamed of our papas walking us down the aisle and giving us over to a handsome man who would love us and care for us. We just knew that he would be kind and sweet, and we would spend our entire lives happy because of those dear men."

  "I do not have a father to walk me down the aisle," I said.

  "I know, but that doesn't mean that you cannot still want the wonderful groom waiting for you down that aisle. What happened to all those dreams, Betsy? How did you stray so far away from everything that you have ever wanted?"

  "Because everything that I have gone through has made me realize that everything that I have ever wanted is unrealistic. I dreamed dreams during my childhood. They were just fantasies, Valerie. They were not what life is really like. As lovely as those dreams were, and as wonderful as it would be if I was able to one day make those dreams into a reality, it simply is not a possibility. It is not how the world works."

  Chapter 7

  May 1863

  Dear Diary,

  I have been thinking about my conversation with Valerie since I left her porch two weeks ago. She has been away tending to an ill aunt since just a few days after so I have not had a chance to speak to her since then. When I returned home from our visit I sat in the empty parlor and thought over what she said until the sun had gotten so low that I was no longer able to see clearly and then made my way into my bedroom, where I prepared for bed and then lay under my blankets and thought more.

  I remember those days when were little girls talking about our future weddings and the husbands that we would have. When a friend of ours from our school days married two years ago, it was quite the dividing experience among those in our town. Some of the adults whispered and made those secretive looks to one another that only people their age understand, and I suppose looking back it did seem strange for her to marry so suddenly and quite young, but to us, it was just another opportunity to dream.

  Valerie and I were not close enough friends of hers to be invited into the bridal party, but we attended with our families as guests. To us, that was even more magical. It gave us the opportunity to watch the celebrations and compare them to what we envisioned for ourselves. I think back on it now and cannot help but cringe slightly at how naïve I was. I sat there in my prim dress, judging the color of the bouquets, the bride's waistline and the length of her train, the food that they served at the reception, and the music that they played, thinking of all of the ways that my wedding would be more impressive and more beautiful.

  How
could I have ever had a mind that simplistic?

  Now that I have learned about the true ways of the world I feel like that was a different person. Though not what I would have planned for myself at the time, and something that I could not even fathom now, I thought that that day was the peak experience for any woman. That single day was everything. It was the day when she was her most beautiful, her most special. I truly believed that she would go on to live a charmed and enchanted life filled with love, children, and everything as perfect as life could be.

  I soon discovered that no matter how lovely the wedding, it did not guarantee you the life that you desired. That blissful bride went on to be an ignored and neglected wife who more often than not browses alone through the shops in town while the nurse at home cares for her children, two already, the second born just one month ago.

  So, I ask you, Diary, what is the purpose of focusing so heavily on the wedding, and even the groom, when after you are actually in the marriage you are just as alone as you were before you wed? I might even argue that you are actually more alone than you would be had you stayed unwed simply because as a wife you are held to so many more restrictions than if you are not married. You can no longer engage with the young men in town, no matter how long you have known them, or gallivant through town and to the homes of your friends without meaning unless you have your husband with you or are visiting another wife.

  That is not the life that I want, Diary. I watched my mother and father have such a beautiful love, yet he was stolen from her much too soon. What is the point in trying so hard to find the right man if the most likely outcome is that I will have a life of loneliness and misery, whether it comes from being ignored during my husband's life or abandoned at his death? I would rather focus my life on myself, and if I must have a husband I will have one whose life runs alongside mine, but not with.

  I have not decided how I will accomplish it, but that is now my goal. The sooner I am able to find a man to marry, the sooner I will be able to leave this city, and all of the memories that it holds, behind.

  Betsy

  Chapter 8

  "And you are absolutely sure that this is what you want?"

  "Valerie, you have asked me that several times now. Yes, I am absolutely sure that this is what I want."

  Valerie sighed and reached for the corner of the sheet. She was helping me move through the house replacing all of the linens. Though no one had touched any of the rooms but my own since the final soldiers left and my mother died, I had finally decided that it was time I air out the entire home to prepare it for sale.

  "One of my cousins recently married a man from California," she offered, her tone sounding like she was not thrilled to even be giving that information.

  Despite Valerie's dark tone, I felt a hint of hope.

  "Where did she meet him?" I asked.

  "Through an advertisement in the newspaper."

  "A mail order bride?" I asked.

  Valerie gave me a strange look.

  "You sound quite judgmental for someone who admits that the only reason you want to find a husband at all is so that you can leave this city and travel somewhere else."

  "No," I said, adjusting the pillow in the center of the bed and smoothing down the blanket, "I don't mean to sound judgmental. As I said, I really do not care much about who I marry, so long as I am able to get away and live the life that I want to live. A correspondence relationship is just not something that I had thought about. I will have to look at the advertisements in this week's newspaper. Thank you."

  Valerie nodded, her mouth a tight line across her pretty face. I knew that she was feeling hurt and upset about my plan to leave, but I couldn't think about that. I had to do what was right for me, and right then I decided that when the newspaper came out later that week I would finally take a step forward in finding the right man for my needs.

  The newspaper came out three days later and as soon as I bought one I hurried back to the house so that I could read through it in private. I didn't want any of the ladies to see me perusing the mail order bride advertisements and start clucking about it. There was a time when I would have been considered an ideal bride for many of the young men in the city and any idle gossip from these ladies was sure to stir up rumors and mutterings as to why I had withdrawn completely from society and what may be inspiring me to seek out marriage away from my home. It may even be cause for the few bachelor men still left to start paying calls on me, and that was simply something that I did not need.

  As soon as I arrived home, I sat down in the parlor and spread the newspaper out on the table in front of me. I briefly scanned through the news pieces for the day, almost as though convincing myself that I had the paper for a more legitimate reason, but then, deciding that there was no one in the house that I needed to impress, I flipped through to the end page to read the bridal advertisements.

  Many of the messages were poetic and flowery, overtly romantic though written to absolutely no one in particular. Others were stark and to the point, almost as though the men writing them were actually filling out order forms for their spring planting season seed packets rather than seeking out their life partners. I waited for one of them to interest me, for something to jump out at me so that I would know which one I should respond to in order to find the right man, but none of them did.

  I had just about given up on the notes and closed the paper when I noticed another advertisement on the back page. The large picture caught my eye with a headline that said "Bride Train" and an image of a well-dressed woman stepping into a train. Though I had little conviction that that woman was, indeed, one of the brides that was actually using the services of the bride train and not a model used for the advertisement, I was caught by the description. I read through it several times then hurried over to Valerie's house to discuss it with her.

  Chapter 9

  July, 1863

  Dear Diary,

  Though I have spent so many months trying to find the path that would take me away from this city and this house full of horrible memories, now that it is my last night here I am realizing just what I am leaving behind.

  Instead of the sadness, pain, blood, and terror of the soldiers, I am remembering the playful laugh of my father and the games that we used to play when I was a little child. Rather than thinking of my mother's death, I am remembering her smile and how she smelled when she would hug me close to her after putting on a fresh dress dried out in the sun.

  I was not anticipating feeling this level of sadness and hesitance when this day finally came. The new owner of the home will be here tomorrow morning, just before I leave. It will be difficult to think of someone else living in these rooms and moving along these hallways, but I pray that he and his family will be able to fill them with joyful memories that may be able to further dampen out the bad.

  Tomorrow I will take a coach to a meeting place two cities over and join a small wagon train. It is hard for me to even imagine this collection of wagons traveling across the next several states. There will be no husbands other than the one of the woman arranging the journey, and the only other men will be hired hands who will be responsible for driving the wagons and caring for the animals. It will be approximately a six weeks' journey and then we will reach our destination and climb aboard the bride train.

  This train will travel from that point to a city called Bannack, Montana. The woman arranging this journey, Mrs. Sutherland, told us that we will stop at each destination for a period of one week before carrying on with those women who were not selected to the next destination.

  I plan on staying on the train until the last stop. I know nothing about Bannack, except that it is as far from this city as the train will travel, and that is enough for me. When I arrive in Bannack I will simply agree to marry whoever approaches me who I am able to tolerate. I take great comfort in the stories that I have heard from former brides who have chosen the same path as I have. They tell me that for the most part the men are quite court
eous and are happy to have separate sleeping quarters and a formal relationship as they get to know each other.

  I must decide how much of my financial assets I will reveal to my future husband. Though I know I am obligated to offer some in reciprocation for the marriage, part of me wants to withhold a portion as a failsafe for myself. I supposed I have plenty of travel time ahead of me to decide.

  Betsy

  Chapter 10

  Though I had left home in the steamy, almost oppressive heat of July, by the time the train pulled into the station near Bannack, the November air was cool and thin. I clutched my shawl close around me and stepped out onto the platform alongside the few other women who had remained along with me. Many of them looked tired, worn, and emotionally torn after several months of traveling from city to city, stepping out onto the train platforms to meet with the eligible men who gathered there in hopes of finding a suitable wife, and then having to return to the train when they didn't find anyone who was interested in them.

  I knew that this experience had been difficult for them and that many of them were completely torn down by the experience. They had boarded the train with the hopes that they would have their husband within just a few weeks, and now they were at the very end of the line with the fear in the bellies that they wouldn’t find a husband here either and would have to return home ashamed, embarrassed, and cast into lives that had little to nothing to offer them any longer.

  I had purposely remained on the train at each stop, with the exception of the occasional break just to breathe in the fresh air and feel something beneath my feet other than the continuous sway of the train floor. Now that we had arrived at our final destination, I knew that the time had come to face the decision that I had made for my life. The past was far behind me and it was time that I step bravely into the future that lay ahead.