The Devil's Bride

by A. S. McGowan

  "No, Mr. Washington. She just stuttered and mumbled a bunch."

  "Figure out which girl has been here the longest and tell her she is now in charge."

  "What about Doris?" Liam hooked a finger into his collar and pulled.

  "Get rid of her." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

  "And the other three?"

  "They will end up in Chicago. I have that area already taken care of." He stood and motioned for the sheriff to leave. There were others in this town more loyal to him; others who made a point to let him know just where those two traitors had run off to. He hated that the priest would be caught up in all of this, but the man did help the other two get away.

  He went to the window, stared out at the view before him. This was his town and he would not tolerate anyone risking all that he had worked so hard for. It was bad enough that in the next town over the Union army had built their ugly fort. It stood as a reminder that their way of life was under attack. He would not tolerate it.

  He turned from the window, grabbed his coat and headed outside. Outside he headed down the street towards the general store where the militia would gather before the men headed out on patrol. He might not be able to get his hands on those traitors, but at least he might have a chance tonight of putting a few more Union soldiers in their graves.

  Chapter 16

  She had tossed and turned that night. Partially from the motion of the train, mostly though from the thoughts that had plagued her. She had agreed to marry Matthew because it was best for her unborn child. Yet she feared the fallout he would face from his family. Surely, they would shun him.

  He had knocked on her door announcing they would be at the station soon, so she pushed the thoughts aside as she hurried to get changed. She pinned her hair up neatly upon her head, then pinched her cheeks. Satisfied, she packed her dirty dress into her satchel bag. With one last look around, she headed out into the hallway to meet up with Matthew and his brother. They were waiting for her right outside their door, their bags by their feet. They quickly exchanged pleasantries before Matthew offered her his arm. With butterflies in her stomach, she took it and let him lead her from the train.

  They stepped into the station amidst a sea of people. They seemed to flow like a river, never stopping for obstacles but swirling around them. There was chatter between them, old friends catching up, new friends being made. The crowd seemed to close in around them. Panic rose up in her chest and she gripped Matthew's arm.

  "Never been in a big city before?" he asked.

  She shook her head, too overwhelmed to speak.

  "It will be alright. We will be outside soon enough. Just keep walking," Gage called out from behind her.

  "My brother is right. We will be outside soon. Just hold on to my arm."

  She nodded, took a deep breath, and kept walking. The doors were up ahead, and the crowd was thinning. Just a few minutes more and she would be free of the suffocating crowd.

  Rough hands grabbed her and she was yanked away from Matthew. She screamed, pushed, and pulled to free herself. She saw Matthew and Gage drop their bags and move toward her. The rough hands that gripped arm pulled her backward into the crowd.

  She continued to scream and struggle, but no one seemed to notice or care. Everyone continued mindlessly about their business. She felt the grip on her arm loosen, then saw the fist right before it connected with her cheek.

  Blinding hot pain erupted in her jaw. Bright lights flashed behind her eyelids. Stunned, she hadn't recovered from the blow before she felt herself being pulled along again. She had to practically run to prevent herself from tripping and being trampled by the crowd.

  She could hear Matthew behind them. He was yelling at Gage, but their voices blended with the crowd. The next thing she knew, Gage was attacking the man. The man let go of her to engage in fisticuffs with Gage. Matthew grabbed her hand to pull her away from the two fighting men. Arms encircled her waist, yanking her away from Matthew yet again.

  Her screams erupted from her throat. This time the crowd of people thinned around them. She saw the police officers coming toward them. She felt relief flood through her when the man stopped moving. He didn't release her but at least he wasn't pulling her farther away.

  The police were shouting. Matthew was shouting. Stunned people stood staring at them. These two strangers were outnumbered. Surely with the police here, they would give up. Tears streamed down her cheeks as fear gripped her, causing her heart to race. She knew better than to think they would give up. No, it was a foolish, wishful thought. She knew how dangerous a cornered man could be.

  Time slowed down, the scene in front of her moved in slow motion. The man fighting with Gage pulled a pistol. Matthew rushed toward her. The man holding her let go and shoved her.

  She landed with a thud. Pain shot through her body. Blackness engulfed her.

  Chapter 17

  She was in someone’s arms being carried. There was so much pain—tightening, gripping, ripping pain. Tears escape her eyes, run down her cheeks as if a great flood had opened up inside them.

  She heard a woman’s voice faintly ask, "Matthew, is that you?"

  "Yes. I need help. Please," he responded.

  "What is all this commotion about?" another voice asked. “Matthew what are you doing here? I thought you were still in Missouri.”

  She felt like she was being carried upward. Stairs maybe? She couldn't will the strength to open her eyes. Pain shot through her. It felt like her insides were being ripped apart. She tried to stifle the scream but it was too much; screams erupted from her.

  "Her water broke. It’s too soon," he said

  "Her water? What are you talking about?" a male voice asked.

  "Who is she?" another voice asked.

  "She is my wife. Now please, help me," he said.

  The upward motion stopped. Shortly after, she felt herself laid upon a bed. She grimaced, her skin pale and clammy. Her insides felt like someone had reached inside her and ripped her apart with their bare hands. Another scream filled the room as she battled to gain control. All around her she heard female voices fluttering about. Matthew's voice drifted to her. He was still here. He was a good doctor; he would make everything better.

  “Matthew, you need to head downstairs. We can handle this,” she heard a woman’s voice say.

  No Matthew couldn’t leave. Without him who would help her baby? She raised her arm and reached out. She felt his strong hand grab her outstretched hand. She forced her heavy eye lids open. Her vision was blurred but she could make out his tall frame.

  “Help me,” she managed to whisper.

  “Relax Sarah. It will be alright,” he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

  He let go of her hand and it fell back onto the bed. She tried to reach for him again. Boots sounded on the floor and she heard the door close a moment later. No he couldn’t have just left her. She looked around and saw the blurry shapes of women darting around the room. No she needed Matthew not these strangers. They kept trying to talk to her, murmuring words of encouragement.

  She felt like something was ripping her apart inside. She tried not to scream. She really tried hard not too but the pain was too much. The pain intensified, she passed out while screaming against the agony.

  She came too at some point. Her vision no longer blurred but the pain was worse than before. She saw three women in the room with her. The older woman was next to her with a wet cloth wiping at her Sarah’s brow. The cool cloth offered a bit of comfort but not much. They encouraged her to push. She didn’t want to push, she wanted to keep her baby inside where it was safe. She shook her head no. She refused to birth this baby so soon. Her body however didn’t listen to what she wanted. The urge to push was too strong. She screamed again and felt the baby slid from her body.

  Someone shoved a spoon and foul liquid into her mouth. Laid back against the pillows she drifted from consciousness.

  Chapter 18

  They had brought the n
ews down to him. Sarah was sedated. The baby she had bore, a little boy, was stillborn. Too small and not longed for this world.

  Slowly he made his way up the stairs. Pain raw squeezed at his heart. Tears burned his eyes but did not fall. Reaching the door, he reached for the knob but his hand fell back to his side. He reached out again, turned the knob, and pulled the door open. He slipped inside and stared at Sarah's sleeping form on the bed. She looked peaceful. He was thankful they had drugged her.

  He spotted the small wooden cradle on the floor at the foot of the bed. With shuffled feet, he went to the cradle. He sat beside it and peered in. The baby's skin was wrinkled like that of an old man. He knew it happened at times when a premature baby died. He noticed they had dressed and wrapped the baby in his old Christening gown and blanket. His mother's doing, he was sure. The gown that fit him as an infant, swallowed this baby up. Yes, Matthew thought, this baby was too small for this world.

  How long he sat staring at the baby, he was unsure. He felt a presence behind him. Within a moment, his mother was sitting and pulling him against her. He went without resistance. He could not count how many times he had found comfort in her arms. His mother always had been his safe place—all her children knew they could come to her with anything. She was their rock.

  "I keep wanting to pick him up. I'm afraid I will hurt him. Crazy, I know, since he is dead. Far beyond the pains of this world." Hot tears broke free and slid unashamed down his cheeks.

  "There, there, me sweet boy. Ye go ahead and have ye a good cry."

  "Men shouldn't cry. I should be out there hunting down who did this to her. To this baby." Even as the words left his mouth, more tears rushed down his cheeks.

  "Nonsense. A father loves his children, so it reasons he would grieve as well." She kissed the top of this head. "I remember me own Angus cryin' something terrible when our firstborn died."

  "Ma, what are you talking about?"

  "Be for ye brother David, we had a wee little girl. Stillborn she was. The grief almost tore us apart. But the Good Lord gave us ten for the one he took home. "

  "I never knew."

  “Aye, we don’t much talk about that dark time. I have never forgotten. I just learned one had to move on. Now ye go ahead and grieve as is yer right. I will go make the arrangements for the wee one."

  His mother squeezed him one more time while placing a kiss upon his head. Alone again, he stared down into the cradle. The baby wasn't his, yet he felt like it was his child lost today. Despite his mother's words, the baby wasn't his to grieve. Wiping the tears from his face, he stood, never taking his eyes off the baby.

  "I will find who did this to you. I will make him pay. I promise you that." He turned and left the room in search of his brothers.

  Chapter 19

  Matthew stared blankly at the fireplace as he sat in the parlor with his family. They had buried the wee boy that morning in the same cemetery as his father. A headstone would be erected later, simply reading Baby Boy O'Brian, marking his birth and death on the same day. The sun had shone too brightly, its glare offensive. It was as if the universe conspired to show him how life would go on. It shouldn't. No, the sky should have been gray and foggy to reflect his inner turmoil. At least here no one had argued his need for the curtains drawn and the gas lamps lit. He couldn’t stomach the sun's cheerful rays.

  He felt his mother sit next to him. Silently, she took his hand in hers. She gave it a squeeze and he squeezed back. John placed a glass of whiskey in his free hand. He held it up, swirling the brown liquid around in the glass. After a moment, he raised it to his lips. He downed the contents in one gulp and it burned all the way down.

  "Where is my baby?" Sarah cried.

  He turned and saw her in the doorway. She wore only a nightgown; her hair hung loose and tangled.

  He rose and went to her. "Sarah, you need to be back in bed."

  She pushed away from him. "No. I want my baby!"

  "Oh, my dear, his funeral was today," Ester said as she moved toward Sarah. "He was buried in the family plot."

  Sarah held her hands up and Ester stopped in her tracks. Matthew looked and noticed the blood trail Sarah was leaving on the floor as she backed away.

  "Sarah . . ." he began.

  "No. You had no right to bury him. No right at all." Tears streamed down her face and she wiped angrily at them.

  "You were in no shape, child. The boy's father had no choice but to have him properly buried," Agnes O'Brian said.

  "Father? He wasn't my son's father. Oh no, my baby was a right proper bastard." Her eyes darted around the room. "Guess the good doctor didn't bother to mention that I'm a saloon whore."

  "Sarah, that's enough," Matthew hissed.

  "It will never be enough." She moved toward him, then collapsed.

  He picked her up and carried her back upstairs. With her placed back in bed, he pulled the covers up over her and sat down. He checked her pulse, which was steady. He could see her breathing was steady as well. The bottle of laudanum sat on the nightstand. He figured it had more to do with her passing out than the blood loss.

  He held her hand and watched her sleep. There was nothing he could do for her. Only time would heal her. He let go of her hand, rose from the edge of the bed, and headed downstairs. He had some explaining to do.

  Chapter 20

  She wasn't sure how much time had passed. The days and nights blended in a haze. Maids came and went to help her use the chamber pot, brought food she barely ate, and even attempted to get her up and dressed, but she wanted none of it. She wanted to be left alone.

  Was being left alone too much to ask, she thought. She yanked the covers over her head. The covers roughly yanked off her body, and she laid there exposed. She opened her eyes as bright light flooded the room. She blinked against the offensive light.

  "Good, you're awake," Ester said, standing beside the bed. "You have laid about long enough. Time to get up."

  "Leave me alone." She reached for the covers.

  "Since this is my house, I will do no such thing." Ester moved the covers farther from Sarah's reach.

  "Where is Matthew?"

  "Oh, now she wants to know about Matthew," Topsannah said as she fussed with the curtains. "She didn't care too much about our Matthew while she laid about all these weeks."

  "Weeks?" she asked. That couldn't be right. No, weeks had not passed since her sweet baby came and left this world. The days and nights had blended together; a week might have passed but not several weeks.

  "Yes, weeks. Now a maid will be along shortly. I expect you up and dressed. You will have tea with us while you fully explain yourself." Ester moved toward the door and motioned for Topsannah to follow her.

  A maid entered shortly and helped her dress. She sat in the chair to have her hair tended. The maid never spoke as she pulled the brush through the tangled mess. Sarah winced with each stroke of the brush. The maid didn't seem to notice or just didn't care as she kept up her work.

  She entered the parlor half an hour later where she found Ester and Topsannah sitting on the settee. She took the high-backed chair and took the teacup Topsannah offered her. She waited as the two women stared at her. The silence stretched. She wasn't sure where to begin or how much to tell them.

  She took a sip of tea, sat the cup on the mahogany table, then took a deep breath. She told them of her mother's illness. How desperate the older woman had been in wanting Sarah married. Then of her mother’s death and being alone on the streets and hungry. Then how she had answered the ad for a bride in the newspaper. She thought he was the answer to her prayers; instead, he was the stuff of nightmares.

  "I don't mean to be rude, but why not simply leave?" Topsannah asked.

  "I had nowhere to go. None of us there had anywhere to go." She thought about Lucy. "One I know tried to leave. He killed her or had someone kill her." Tears started to slide down her cheeks. She angrily wiped at them. She would not cry, especially not in front of these two uppity wome
n.

  "Now I see why Matthew insisted he go face this man," Ester said.

  "Matthew went back there?" Fear gripped her heart. "Clyde Washington is evil. He will kill him."

  "Yes, he went back and took our husbands with him," Ester said.

  "What are we going to do? I can't have anyone die because of me."

  "We are going to mass, then we are going to pray very hard." Ester rose and motioned for them to follow her.

  She sat on the seat inside the carriage, opposite Ester and Topsannah. She wasn't sure what going to this thing called mass would do to help Matthew and his brothers. She hadn't argued this point though. The determined looks on their faces said any argument would have been pointless. So, she watched out the small window as the carriage brought them into the poorer part of Chicago. The houses were smaller and rundown, the people on the streets looked polar opposite to the women inside the carriage.

  Once in front of the large church, the driver stopped, got down, and opened the door. After helping them alight the carriage, he climbed back up onto his seat. Ester led the way to the church doors, then stopped and faced Sarah. "As far as anyone is concerned, you are Matthew's wife. The baby we buried was his son. He does not deserve the humiliation of anyone here knowing the truth."

  "So, you wish I lie? In the Lord's house?"

  "While I don't like lying, I hate hurting innocent people even more. So yes, you will uphold his lie in order to protect him." Ester looked around and then back at Sarah. "He told that lie to protect you." Ester opened the door and held it for them.

  "Also, Sarah, you should pray hard that our husbands return safely. My mother was raised Comanche. I know a thing or two about scalping someone . . ." Topsannah said before slipping into the dim church interior.