Brides of Grasshopper Creek

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by Faith-Ann Smith


  I wonder now what the future holds for me. My sisters have been talking about leaving Boston behind. They seem to think that if we leave the city we will be able to escape our pain and start a new life. I do not know if I agree with them.

  I honestly cannot imagine leaving Boston. This is the only place I have ever known, and the only place where I have memories of Father and the few fleeting ones that I have of Mama, though I admit that those are very few and far between. I think we are fortunate to live in Boston with all of the opportunities available to us, and the comforts of living somewhere as civilized and cultured as the city. If I had my choice, I would stay here and make my way in life the way that Father would have wanted me to do.

  I can hear Lucy in the kitchen now. I should hurry and get down there to her before she ruins the coffee again. She is a lovely girl and I am sure that she will make a wonderful wife one day. I just hope that her husband prefers tea in the morning.

  --Rose

  Chapter 2

  "Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jane asked me.

  It was Christmas Eve and we were the last two awake in the house. This was not an unknown occurrence. Christmas had always been Father's very favorite time of year and the two of us were only ever outlasted by Father, who was known to stay up nearly all night making preparations for the next day. Jane remembers Mama once saying that it seemed that the instant Father's head hit the pillow on Christmas Eve, he would pop back up again, convinced that he had slept long enough and that it was time to get the holiday underway.

  Now it was just the two of us. There was no Father to playfully scold us to get us to go to bed as he snuck Christmas cookies from the kitchen and gulped down another glass of eggnog. We sat quietly in the parlor, staring at the empty corner. I was imagining the enormous tree that should have been there.

  She never said it, but I think that Jane was imagining it, too. The look on her face was soft, distant, and sad, the way it had been for so many months. She was not just grieving Father that year as the three of us were. She was also mourning Adam, the man who she planned on marrying as soon as he returned from the War.

  Waiting for him to return had been so difficult for her, and now she would be waiting forever. I didn't know if she would ever be able to give her heart to another man, not when hers had been broken so completely that pieces of it seemed to come out with her tears. Even if she ever found a man who she could stand being in the same space with for more than a few moments, I didn't know if she would ever be able to find enough of her heart left to give to him.

  "Rose?"

  I realized that I hadn't answered her question, and I turned to her.

  "What did you ask?"

  "I asked if you really thought that this mail order bride business is a good idea."

  I turned away from her again to stare into the fire in the fireplace and took a long breath. That question felt so loaded and I didn't know where I should start to answer it.

  It had been a couple of weeks since Rebecca had brought us a newspaper containing advertisements from men in the Frontier who were looking for wives. The advertisements asked for women to come to Oregon and other areas to marry them and provide what was apparently a much-needed feminine touch to the uncharted wilderness they were still trying to settle.

  "What do you think?" I asked, trying to deflect the question as much as find out what Jane was feeling about the situation.

  She sighed deeply. There was so much in that sigh, like she was breathing out everything that had been inside of her for the last year and trying to replace it each time she breathed in.

  "I have already written to one of the men," she said cautiously, "Don't tell the others. I don't want them to get too excited or try to be too involved."

  I was so surprised in that moment that I don't think I said anything for a full minute. I just stared at her, gripping my cup of eggnog and hoping that somehow the right words would come to me and I would be able to give her the support she needed in that moment.

  "Are you excited?" I asked carefully.

  "No. I haven't heard back from him. I don't even really know if I want to. I mean, I do want to, but I don't know what I want it to say. Lucy and Rebecca both seem so thrilled at this idea. I just don't feel the same way."

  "Do you want to leave Boston?" I asked.

  Part of me hoped that she would say that she didn't want to leave Boston and that the two of us could stay here together even if Rebecca and Lucy chose to go to Oregon to marry men on the Frontier. Though it broke my heart to think about not having all of my sisters with me all the time, I felt that I could stand it if Jane stayed with me.

  "I don't know. I don't really know anything anymore. Everywhere I look, I see Adam. Everything I think about, I'm thinking about what our life should have been. Sometimes I worry that that was my only chance at having a life that would make me happy."

  "I don't think that's true, Jane. I know you loved Adam and that you wanted to marry him, but I don't think that his death means that you will never find anyone else to love."

  My words seemed to sting her and I felt guilty immediately.

  "The man I wrote to has a child," she confided in me, "That's why I chose him. Maybe he will understand the pain that I'm going through and not expect too much out of our relationship."

  I nodded, unsure if I agreed with her. I knew that this idea would probably be the most difficult on her considering the hurt of losing Adam was still so fresh that the thought of marrying another man still felt like a betrayal, but I didn't think it was wise of her to choose a man based on the level of hurt he had experienced. While she might think it was a great way to ensure that there would be fewer expectations in the marriage and that maybe they could spend their time commiserating with one another, I knew that that was not the way to start a marriage.

  Two broken birds should never try to fly together or they will both lose their way. One of them would have to be strong.

  Chapter 3

  Dear Sir,

  I read your advertisement and I—

  Dear Sir,

  I am writing in response to the advertisement that I saw in the most recent newspaper–

  Dear Sir,

  Your advertisement appeared in the same newspaper as a fascinating series of articles chronicling the recent developments in the political sphere and as I was reading them I happened upon it, so I am writing to ask you–

  I sighed and dropped my pen to the desk. This was not going well. While my sisters seemed to have found the perfect advertisement to respond to almost immediately and seemed to have no trouble at all coming up with what to say to the men on the other end of those advertisements, I was struggling. I had scoured the advertisements for three newspapers now and had not found a single one that appealed to me.

  I decided to take a different approach. Father always taught me that there is a solution to every problem, but sometimes you have to start with the solution and work your way backwards to the problem before you realize it is the solution. That had never made much sense to me, but now I thought that I had figured it out. Instead of finding an advertisement that I liked and then writing a letter in response to that advertisement, I was going to write my letter first and then find an advertisement that seemed to fit with it.

  It seemed like a fantastic idea when I came up with it. It would almost be as though I was the one writing the advertisement and the men were responding to me. I’d just have to choose the one that seemed best. When I sat down to write my letter, however, I couldn’t find the words.

  They all made me feel like I was lying, which is not something that I wanted to do. I wanted to find a way that I could feel more in control of the situation but not have to manipulate my words. My sisters had made it very clear to me that they wouldn't accept anything less than us all going together, and now that I knew for sure that Jane was going along with the plan, I felt that I had no choice but to give up my hopes of staying at home and embrace the idea that some
thing else was waiting for me.

  All I needed to do was find what it was and go after it.

  Chapter 4

  March, 1866

  Dear Diary,

  I may be running out of time to find a solution to my problem, Diary. I have still yet to find an advertisement that even begins to appeal to me, and now I am certain that all three of my sisters are in courtships through the mail with the men who they found through their responses. Lucy seems certain she will receive a proposal any day, and even Jane seems more interested in picking up the mail, though I still would not go so far as to say that she is excited about it.

  What am I going to do? I do not want them to think that I am purposely not trying to find someone just so that I can stay here in Boston, though the thought does still cross my mind now and again. I truly do believe I could find a way to make it here. Father did not leave us a huge fortune, but there is certainly enough for each of the others to bring money with them when they travel to Oregon, whenever that time comes, and still leave me enough that I could live off of it for some time while I tried to find my way.

  I have started to think that if I truly cannot stay in Boston, perhaps going to Oregon is really the best thing for me. There is so much out there that is yet to be discovered and even though it is hard work, there is so much opportunity to establish something that is real and tangible. If I could find a husband who has a farm or a ranch, I could put in the hard work to ensure it is successful and perhaps that would give me a chance to do something on my own. There has to be more for me than just to marry a man who wants me to bake his bread and rear his children.

  Is it not possible for me to do those things and also pursue something of my own?

  --Rose

  Chapter 5

  Spring finally came to Boston that year, but while there were new beginnings and fresh starts all around me, I was still feeling stuck. One afternoon I felt like I had been in the house for too long and decided that I would take a walk up to the general store so I could get some fresh air.

  At home my sisters were in a flurry of preparations. Jane and Rebecca both were getting ready for their long journeys to Oregon. Though both of them insisted that they were not engaged, I knew that it was only a matter of time before they were married and starting to disappear into their own lives, leaving me further and further behind them. Lucy was being extremely secretive, as if she was planning something but didn't want to tell anyone about it.

  I was used to her acting that way, though. The baby of the family, Lucy has always been playful and even somewhat silly. She's a grown woman now, but when I look at her I still see the little girl who was always coming up with a new game to play and wanted us to play along with her. Now it seemed that she was trying to play one of her games with us, making us curious about her courtship with her beau, but not giving us even the smallest hint about what may be happening or if any decisions had been made about their future together.

  The wind was chilly against my face as I walked, but it felt good to draw in the fresh air and feel active after staying inside for so much of the winter season. Around me, I could see the signs of the new season and people responding to them in all of the customary ways. Doors and windows stood open to bring in the clean air to freshen up the homes and get rid of the stuffiness that so often happens in the long stretches of being closed up during the winter.

  Lines and racks held bedding being aired out and heavy cloaks and coverings drying after their final wash before being packed up in honor of the warmer weather and the hot seasons to come. The street rang with the sound of children playing, relieved to be back outside and getting their bodies moving after spending so much time being controlled and limited by the cold weather.

  It was refreshing in a way to see that life goes on even in the wake of severe change and horrible events. It felt calming and secure to see that some things simply keep going, one step after another, no matter what has happened or what may be happening in the future.

  At the same time the routine felt sad and unnerving. As positive as it was to see that people were able to follow through with their tasks and obligations of life, it also felt like the darkness of the last few years was constantly hovering over them, coloring each move, and forcing them to forget they put the people that they loved and the futures that they hoped for behind them in favor of completing their tasks.

  I walked, contemplating my conflicting emotions and how they made my mind reel, until I reached the store. Inside I could see Mrs. Gregory, the city's consummate gossip, chattering away at the counter with Mrs. Smith, the wife of the owner of the store, tried to both fulfill her order and listen to whatever the older woman was prattling on about.

  I stepped inside and crossed to the barrels of dry goods along one side of the room. Almost immediately, what Mrs. Gregory was saying caught my attention and I found myself drifting closer to her to listen more intently. After a few moments, I gathered my skirts and ran out of the store without buying anything, rushing all the way home without stopping to greet any of the people who called out to me.

  Chapter 6

  June, 1866

  Dear Diary,

  I have never felt quite so secretive, but I cannot bring myself to tell anyone what I have been up to in the last couple of weeks. Jane and Rebecca have left now, so I feel more secure about sharing this with you knowing that there are two fewer sets of possibly prying eyes to see it. Lucy has been so wrapped up in her mysterious courtship that I do not worry about her trying to sneak a glimpse of my private thoughts.

  It seems strange to me to be worrying about someone else prying into my privacy when that is exactly what I did to bring myself to this moment. My visit to the store two weeks ago was meant to be nothing more than a distraction and an opportunity to fetch a few things that we needed at the house, but it ended up being my personal breakthrough.

  I know it was not right for me to listen in on Mrs. Gregory's conversation. Eavesdropping is unseemly and rude, but she did not notice, so it could not have caused any harm. While I was pondering bringing home some fresh coffee, however, I heard something extremely interesting and could not stop listening.

  "Can you believe that these girls have lowered themselves to that? Putting themselves in catalogs like pieces of calico so that men can browse through them and order them for delivery. I simply cannot imagine. It all seems so unwholesome. Lonely men scouring pages of pictures of women and choosing one that they want to bring out to their home to marry."

  "Catalogs?" Mrs. Smith asked, folding up a piece of calico that had obviously inspired Mrs. Gregory's comment.

  "Yes," Mrs. Gregory said, lowering her voice to a whisper that suggested she was nothing short of scandalized by the whole idea of it, "There are catalogs that agencies send to the men in the Frontier that let them choose a woman and start a correspondence with her."

  "Really?" Mrs. Smith said, seeming to struggle with anything to say that would appease Mrs. Gregory's enthusiasm for what she saw as the scandal of the entire situation.

  "Absolutely. There is even such an agency right here in Boston. The Bronson widow opened it and I hear that she has already sent three young women to the Frontier because of it." Mrs. Gregory actually fanned herself at this moment like the whole thing was completely overwhelming her and she was primed to faint if she continued thinking about it, "Things like this simply did not happen when I was courting."

  I did not stay around long enough to find out how Mrs. Smith responded to that, or if there was a way that she would be able to respond tactfully. Instead, I ran out of the store and did not stop until I arrived back home to ask Lucy if she still kept up her correspondence with the Bronson daughter who she had befriended in childhood and occasionally exchanged letters with now that Sharon was married and had left Boston.

  Of course, she did not know that my motivation was not to talk to Sharon, but to find my way to her mother, the widow. I suppose you can guess what happened next.

  I have
met with Mrs. Bronson and expressed my desire to be in her next catalog. She tells me she plans to send copies by post by the end of the month. Could I finally have found my way to the Frontier?

  --Rose

  Chapter 7

  "Rose, this is Nathan."

  I looked up from the recipe on the table beside me and met eyes with the young man standing beside Lucy. I'm sure that I looked plenty confused at that moment, and I saw Lucy try to give me a look that told me she wanted me to smile and look more welcoming. It was difficult, though, considering I had only ever heard Lucy say the name of her beau one time and it was when she told me that he was coming to visit her. When she said, it, however, she had called him "Mr. Thornton".

  "Mr. Thornton?" I asked.

  Lucy and Nathan both giggled and I saw a flicker in their eyes that made me somewhat uncomfortable.

  "No, Rose. This is Mr. Thornton's assistant. Mr. Thornton was unavoidably detained by business and so he sent Nathan to meet me and bring me back to Oregon to meet with him."

  She looked delighted and I could do nothing but smile.

  "Are you joining us for supper tonight, Nathan?" I asked, looking back at the recipe to determine if it would make enough food for the three of us.

  "I asked him to be our guest tonight," Lucy told me.

  I smiled at her and nodded.

  "Welcome," I said, looking over at him again, "Please feel free to go get freshened up while we start supper and we will all meet in the parlor in a few minutes."

  Lucy directed Nathan to the guest room and when she returned to the kitchen I pointed through the door.

 

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