Unclaimed Bride

by Lauri Robinson

  Staring at the tiny flowers, Constance asked, “What are you doing here, Lula Mae?”

  “Making tea,” the woman answered still bustling about.

  Constance didn’t want tea. She just wanted to return to the bed. “Why?”

  Lula Mae wasn’t a large woman, nor was she tiny, just average, with a few tiny lines around her eyes and impressions near her mouth that grew deep as she smiled. “Why?” She placed a finger below Constance’s chin, holding her gaze. “Because you need a friend, and by the looks of things, I arrived just in time.”

  To Constance, it felt as if an eggshell surrounded her and someone had just cracked it on the side of a pan. It was an odd sensation, quite inexplicable, and accompanied by another realization. “I’ve never had a friend,” she admitted.

  Lula Mae’s gaze grew soft and tender. “You do now.”

  Believing she didn’t even deserve a friend, Constance shook her head.

  Lula Mae smiled sweetly as she moved to the stove. After filling the teapot with hot water, she dropped in the steeper and sat down on the other side of the table. “I was out to see Ellis and Angel yesterday.”

  A thrill zipped up through Constance, snagging on her heart. “How are they? How’s Angel’s leg?”

  “Fine. Ellis had her sitting on the divan in the front parlor.” Lula Mae patted the large basket. “They sent some things for you.”

  Something inside her burst, made her want to cry again. “They did?”

  Lula Mae tested the tea by pouring a small amount in a cup. “Not quite ready.” Her hand ran along the top of the kettle as she added, “Ellis bought this tea set for you a couple weeks ago.”

  Constance’s throat locked up.

  “He’d ordered Angel a new saddle for Christmas some time ago, and stopped in to pick it up. This set had just arrived. Quick as a whip he told me to wrap it up. Said you talked about having afternoon tea with your aunts back in England. I’d never seen Ellis that giddy. He was downright excited to give it to you.” Lula Mae tested the tea again, and this time filled both cups. “I brought along some cookies, but I have some other things I think you need more than sweets.”

  Bread and cheese, along with ham slices, came out of the basket next. Constance watched the unloading, while her mind danced with visions of Ellis buying the tea set. He was such a thoughtful man, and she missed him so terribly much. The blistering tears came again. “Lula Mae, it’s Christmas Day, you should be with your family,” she half blubbered. The desire to climb back into bed and let the tears roll was overtaking her. “Thank you for coming to see me. It was very nice.”

  Lula Mae laughed. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easy, girl. I said I’m your friend.” She set a plate of food in front of Constance. “Friends are there for us when we need them, no matter what day of the year it is.”

  She didn’t have the strength to stand, and the bed looked a mile away. The trip to Ashton’s place from town wasn’t a short one, either, and it had to be bitterly cold outside, as it was inside. Another lump formed in her throat. “Lula Mae, you shouldn’t have….” She choked up. “I don’t deserve—”

  “Deserve?” Lula Mae shook her head, and then leaned across the table to gather Constance’s hands. “You deserve a life full of happiness and love and friendship. We all do.”

  That’s what she’d had at the ranch, with Ellis and Angel. It had been so wonderful. If only it could have lasted. But that had been impossible from the beginning. She shook her head, chasing away the notion she’d been sent away again, like when she was a child. She’d harbored that excuse for years, believing if she’d remained in Virginia she could have saved her family. Not so unlike Angel and her animals—except Angel put her beliefs into use, whereas Constance had just wallowed in self-pity. Furthermore, she hadn’t been sent away this time—she’d run, all on her own accord. Life was life. Past, present or future, it was time she admitted her shortcomings—without blaming others.

  “It’s Christmas Day. You should be with your husband,” she told Lula Mae.

  “Link knows where I’m at, and we’ll have our Christmas celebration when I get home.” Lula Mae sat back in her chair and her expression grew thoughtful. “I’ll never forget the day I met him. It’s been ten years now. I was on my way to California.”

  The sip of tea Constance took left her stomach growling. She picked up a slice of cheese to nibble on while waiting for Lula Mae to continue. The woman appeared to be in no hurry to leave, and had traveled a long way. The least she could do was listen.

  “My folks owned a saloon back in Abilene—Kansas that is—during the cattle drive days. There was a group of us girls that were pretty good at singing and playing the piano, and decided we’d head west to the gold country and make us some real money.”

  Constance washed the ham in her mouth down with a sip of tea. “What happened?”

  “Link happened,” Lula Mae answered with a laugh. “The girls and I were part of a wagon train that stopped in Cottonwood to replenish supplies before heading over to Gooddale’s Cutoff. The minute I walked in his store, I was lost.”

  “Lost?”

  “Uh-huh,” Lula Mae mumbled while sipping her tea. She let out a laugh then. “Head over heels and cut off at the knees. It took that man less than a day to talk me out of heading to California and staying here instead. ’Course, anyone that’s met him knows he can talk a rattle off a snake, and he sure enough did it to me.”

  “He asked you to marry him?”

  Lula Mae chuckled. “No, I was the one that told him we’d be getting married as soon as the preacher made his rounds.”

  “You were?”

  “Yup. You know how it is, when you can’t think of anyone else, when you can’t keep your hands to yourself no matter how hard you try, and all you want to do is snuggle up next to them and let the world roll on by.”

  The cup in Constance’s hand clattered as it landed on the saucer. The food she’d eaten grew heavy and thick in her stomach.

  Lula Mae eyed her. “You do know what I’m talking about.”

  Constance had no control over how her head nodded in agreement.

  “So what are you doing here?” Lula Mae asked. “When the man you love is over at Heaven on Earth, as miserable as you.”

  “He’s miserable?”

  Lula Mae pointed a finger across the table. “He looks about as worn out and wretched as you.”

  The image of Ellis bowed over his wife’s grave flashed before her eyes like a lightning bolt. “He’s missing Christine, not me.”

  A barrel laugh echoed over the room. Lula Mae covered her mouth, stifling her laughter. “Christine’s been dead a long time, and I’ve never seen Ellis looking the way he did yesterday.” The woman refilled Constance’s teacup. “Why don’t you start at the beginning, back in Europe, and tell me what’s happened. Sometimes saying things aloud makes us understand them better.”

  Constance bit her bottom lip. She hadn’t shared her tale with anyone. Was she even able to do so? Parts of her past were buried so deep she doubted she could recall what had happened.

  “Trust me, Constance, getting it all out will make more sense, and let you find your next steps.”

  The past was best left forgotten, she’d determined that years ago. Yet she did have to move on. Couldn’t stay in the cabin, crying her eyes out for years to come. The yellow roses on the teacup glistened as Constance spun the tiny cup about on the saucer. Aunt Theresa would have loved the flowers, while Aunt Julia would have said the cups were too dainty to be serviceable.

  “I know you lived with family in England, why was that?” Lula Mae asked.

  “My parents sent me there when the war broke out. It was only supposed to be for a few months, but my father, mother and brothers died in the fighting. I most likely would have died, too, so I guess in the end, I was the lucky one.” An unexpected sense of resolve washed over her. She’d never considered the outcome of her leaving Virginia as lucky. Leaving Heaven
on Earth as she had made her understand how deeply her parents had loved her—sending her away meant, saving her life. When you love someone you want the best for them, no matter what it is and how badly it hurts you. Her aunts had loved her, too, she’d never doubted that. She hadn’t been able to save them, no more than she’d been able to save her family, but she could save Ellis and Angel. Perhaps telling Lula Mae everything would help. Make her broken heart understand Ellis and Angel were better off without her.

  “That war was an awful thing. Hurt a lot of families,” Lula Mae said softly. “When did you return home?”

  Home. One little word that means so much. “I wanted to go home so badly,” she admitted, “even after my parents and brothers died. Not just Virginia, but the United States. When I met Byron I couldn’t ask enough questions about America.”

  “Byron?”

  “My husband.”

  “Oh?” Lula Mae’s eyes were wide.

  Constance waited for fear or dread to trounce upon her like it had in the past, but nothing happened. Evidently she was too numb for even that. “I met him on Christmas Day last year. My aunts lived several miles outside of London, and Byron stopped at our place to ask directions to a party he’d been invited to. My aunts had several friends over, who invited him in, all giving him different directions as to where the party might be.”

  Aunt Julia had been the only one skeptical about his arrival. She’d wanted to chase him off the front porch with the broom. “The family he searched for was a few miles up the road. I’d tutored their children during the summer months, so I gave him the proper directions and he left. But the next day he came back, and the day after. Each time he brought little treats for my aunts, tea and fancy crumpets, and he’d tell me all about America. When he arrived on the third day, Aunt Julia had become ill, so I met him at the door and said he couldn’t enter, not knowing if what she had was contagious. He insisted on seeing her, and even brewed a pot of tea for her. The poor dear couldn’t drink any though, nothing stayed down. She died the next day.”

  “Oh, my, she was really ill.”

  “Yes, Aunt Theresa as well. Byron brought a doctor out to see her, but nothing helped, and ten days later, she died.”

  “How dreadful.” Lula Mae leaned her elbows on the table. “But you never became ill?”

  “No.”

  “And then?”

  “Byron asked me to marry him, and I said yes.” Constance shook her head, trying to recall exactly how it had happened. “There were so many things to see to. A solicitor was at the door when we returned from the funeral, and other people, needing papers signed and payments for things….” It was no clearer now that it had been then. “I was so confused. Byron took care of most of it.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes, he even packed my trunks, since I was quite overcome with grief. I barely recall the ride to London. We were married there and bought our passages to America.” Something cold and chilling tickled her spine. “It was costly and I was uncomfortable spending my aunts’ monies, but Byron assured me once we got to America he’d have access to his funds again. It was as though I was in some kind of a fog. A dream really, and wishing I could wake up so it would all go away.”

  “Did you leave then? For America?” Lula Mae asked.

  Pain grew inside her head, and Constance pressed a hand to her forehead. “No. There was a performance Byron wanted to see. I’d had a headache for days, and the music was so loud we left early. Instead of hiring a coach, we walked back to the hotel. We were in the alley, not on the street, and Byron said it was so he could kiss me.” A sudden lurching happened in her stomach. “But instead, he shot me,” she whispered.

  “What?” Lula Mae gasped.

  Constance hadn’t told anyone the entire story, not even the authorities when asking about Byron. Then again, they hadn’t asked. She ran a hand over her stomach, feeling the scars as tears pinpricked her eyes. “He shot me. The next thing I remember was the surgeon telling me I’d never be able to have children. He’d extracted the bullet, but the damage had been too extensive.”

  “Good heavens, girl. Does Ellis know all this?”

  “No.”

  “How’d you get to America?”

  “I had some money that I hadn’t told Byron about, and I used it to stay at the hotel until I was able to travel. I left for New York as soon as I could. To find him.”

  “Who? Byron?”

  “Yes. He’d sailed for New York the day after I was shot. I believe he left me in the alley to die. The surgeon said two boys found me—saved my life.” Anger of what she’d uncovered before leaving England returned with renewed force. “I had to find Byron, not because I loved him, but to get my aunts’ money back. He’d even sold their cottage. He had no right to do that.”

  “Did you find him in New York?”

  “Not really. I thought I saw him a couple of times, but…” Constance shook her head, chasing away the quivers rippling her shoulders. “I finally found his widow.”

  “Widow? You got my head spinning, girl.”

  “I know,” Constance agreed. Hers had been spinning for months. Still was. “His widow claimed Byron had been shot in England and died shortly after retuning to America. She said she was going to turn me into the authorities for trying to kill him in England. I went to the police station, asking who was investigating the case so I could share my side of the story, but no one knew anything about it. I went back to her house several times, but she was never home, or if she was, she didn’t open the door. I went back to the police, too, but they said without a body there wasn’t a case. Eventually, I ran out of money. I could no longer pay for lodging and started doing laundry at the boarding house in exchange for room and board. That left me little time to continue my pursuit.”

  “How long were you in New York?”

  “About seven months. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t believe Byron was dead, and continued to search for him, until the night his widow came to the boarding house and took me to the cemetery. She showed me his grave and said Byron had told her all about me on his death bed. She knew about my aunts and their deaths. She called me a husband stealer, and claimed I’d shot and robbed Byron in the alley. She said all he’d wanted was to return home and die in her arms. Their children were with her. Two boys and a girl. The boys looked just like Byron, and the oldest one asked me why I had killed his father.” The child’s innocence tore at Constance’s heart all over again.

  “Oh, Good Lord, girl. My heart’s just a-breaking for what you’ve been through.” Lula Mae leaned across the table. “What did you do then?”

  Constance shrugged. “I had no choice but to believe her, the grave already had grass growing on it. She said she’d gone to the police—told them all about me, not just that I’d killed her husband, but how I had ruined their entire family.” Constance met Lula Mae’s gaze, begging for someone, anyone to believe her. “I never knew he was married. I didn’t particularly want to marry him, it just happened. And I didn’t kill him. I don’t even know how to fire a gun. I’ve never touched one.”

  Lula Mae wrapped her hands around Constance’s. “Of course you didn’t kill him. No one could believe you did.”

  “I thought about going to the police again, but I was scared. If they believed her and not me, I’d be arrested.”

  Lula Mae frowned. “So you became Ashton’s mail-order bride?”

  Constance nodded. “The day after seeing Byron’s grave, a girl I knew showed me Ashton’s letter. She wasn’t interested in traveling to Wyoming, and traded the letter for a dress. It seemed my only hope. I had no money and I thought the authorities were looking for me. I wrote to Ashton that afternoon, and when his reply and funds arrived two weeks later, I left New York.” Now, here she was, a mere month after arriving in Wyoming, in worse shape than when she’d left New York. This time she’d managed to include a broken heart in the tangled mess her life had become.

  Lula Mae sat quietly for a momen
t, and then after giving Constance’s hands a tender squeeze, she let them loose and pressed both hands to her bosoms. “Dear Heavens, I never imagined your tale would be so…so tragic. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “You don’t need to say anything. I need to say thank you. You have no idea what a relief it is to have told someone. I feel as if I just lost a hundred pounds.” It was true, telling the story had cleared out space inside her. Left more room for her heart to wallow in pity. Constance rose and walked to the fireplace. She stirred the flames and added a few logs.

  Lula Mae had spun in her chair; as Constance replaced the poker, Lula said, “It’s a tragic story, Constance, a truly tragic one, but I still don’t understand why you are here, and Ellis is at his ranch.”

  “Because I love them,” she admitted. “I can’t put him and Angel in danger.”

  “Danger?”

  “Yes, if the authorities find me—”

  “If the authorities are looking for you, and if they find you, you’ll tell them the truth. That you didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Which is worse.” In spite of the flames, Constance was chilled to the bone and went to the cook stove to add a few logs to that fire as well.

  “Worse?”

  The authorities had been a ruse she used upon herself, lessening the threat of her real fear. “Byron’s still alive, Lula Mae. I don’t know how I know, but I do. And he’ll find me.”

  Lula Mae jumped to her feet. “We need to get you back to Heaven on Earth.”

  “I can’t go back there.”

  “Why not? Good heavens, girl—”

  “There’s no reason for Ellis to protect me from Byron.” Constance returned to her chair. Not even the fear of Byron overrode her broken heart. “I don’t have anything to give him in exchange. I don’t have anything Ellis needs. Now that the holiday party’s over, he doesn’t even need a housekeeper.”

  Shaking her head, Lula Mae sat down. “Honey, Ellis has put on that holiday party for years without a housekeeper. He loves you. You love him. That’s enough reason right there.”

  Pain came forth as strong as ever. Constance squeezed her eyes shut, holding the tears at bay. “He wants more children. I can never give him that.”