The Widow Wagon: Second Chances
Page 13
She began sobbing again as she bent over to pull up her pantaloons. She turned to walk away, but her father pulled her back to him.
“You’re a good girl, Daisy. I just want you to be a mature, patient woman. Go on up to your room and do as I said.” He sent her off with a light slap to her bottom.
She scooted forward, bunny hopping out of his reach. Daisy quickly made her way across the yard, up and into the house. She ran past her mother in the kitchen, but not fast enough to escape notice.
“Daisy, why are you…? Oh my Lord, did your father do that to you? Oh, Daisy!”
Too embarrassed to answer her, Daisy dashed up the stairs to her room. She didn’t want to anger her father by not being in the corner when he came to check on her, so she quickly stripped and threw a summer nightie over her head. She resolutely walked to the corner and lifted her nightie to her waist. She looked over her shoulder at her very sore bottom, wincing at the angry red welts swelling larger by the second. But she kept her backside on display as required.
She stared out one of the windows, deep in thought. She really was glad to be home and enjoyed her family, but it just didn’t seem fair that her husband had gone off to that damnable war — and now she was subject to punishment for her misdeeds.
The angry voices of both her parents filtered up from downstairs.
“George, how could you?” her mother said. “She’s a married woman. I never!”
“Easy, Mary Beth, I pulled her pants down and strapped it with a piece of harness leather. And don’t say ‘you never.’ You were strapped with a piece of leather our first year of marriage, if I remember correctly. And if you keep it up, I’ll be using a harness strap on your bottom too. So, watch it!”
“George, keep your voice down,” her mother hissed. “She’ll hear you!”
George laughed. “I don’t care if she does! Might make her mind better if she knows her mama gets her tail tanned too. Be careful, Mary Beth. You’re this close to a paddling.”
His heavy footfalls started up the stairs, the thumping getting louder and louder as he drew closer to her room. He stopped just outside of her door. “Good girl. You stay there and think until I holler up for you. Then I want you taking a nap until dinner. Ya hear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
His footsteps retreated and she relaxed into her position in the corner, staring out the window, wishing she was at her — and Jesse’s — house.
In the distance, she could see a handful of men coming down the road. They were all carrying guns. As they drew closer, she realized that they were wearing the blue uniforms of the North. Her heart jumped into her throat.
Oh, God. Did Jesse die? They’re coming to tell me Jesse died.
She dropped her gown, running down the stairs. “Daddy, Daddy! There are soldiers coming up the road. Union soldiers.” She was openly sobbing by the time she hit the last step. “Oh, God! I think they’re coming to tell me about Jesse.”
Her mother came running, and Daisy threw herself into her father’s arms. Footsteps sounded on the floorboards of the front porch, the loud rap of knuckles banging on the door.
Her father eased Daisy into her mother’s embrace, and opened the door. “Good day, Gentlemen. Thank you for your service. What can I do for you?”
“Sir, Ma’am. I’m Captain Crenshaw, and these men are from my company.” His gaze shifted to Daisy. “Ma’am, are you Mrs. Jesse Anderson?”
“Oh, God! Oh, God! Yes. He’s dead, isn’t he?” She screamed, falling to the floor in a heap.
“Son, you better just say it,” George said, his voice solemn. “We need to know. Don’t flower it. Just spit it out.”
Captain Crenshaw exhaled loudly. “Yes, Ma’am. He died in the line of duty. We were in Georgia when he was shot by Rebel soldiers.”
Daisy heard herself screaming, almost as if she’d left her own body. She shrieked repeatedly at the horror of the news, unable to make herself stop.
Her father and Captain Crenshaw brought her to the parlor and gave her a glass of whiskey to calm her down. The Captain dropped to one knee in front of her. “Ma’am, we brought some of Jesse’s belongings for you. These were the things we found on him.” He handed her his wallet, his money clip, a tattered picture of them on their wedding day, his wedding band, and a beautiful gold and ruby ring.
“This ring.” Daisy tried to hand it back to the Captain. “This isn’t Jesse’s ring.”
“No, Ma’am, that’s his. It was in his pocket. All these articles were on his… body. I’m sorry, ma’am.” He bowed his head to her for a moment, then motioned to the soldiers. “We need to be leaving, Sir. My company needs to meet up with our regiment.”
“Thank you for coming to tell us. We appreciate it.”
* * *
One month later
“Daisy, your mother and I have been in touch with your aunt Mae in Independence, Missouri.” George grasped her hand in his large one. “Your options are limited as a widow, but we want you to be happy. You’re only eighteen and you deserve to start your life over.”
“I don’t care, Daddy. It’ll be fine.”
“No. It’s not fine. With the migrations to the Oregon Territory and all the people looking for gold out west, there are men looking for mail order brides. My sister says there is a covered wagon that books safe travel on the Oregon Trail to head out west. It’s called the Widow Wagon. It only takes on widows and brings them to men along the trail that are looking for a wife.”
Daisy felt the blood drain from her face, her head beginning to spin. “You want me to leave and go West? Is that what you’re saying?”
“We don’t want you to leave, but we know that it’d be the right thing to happen. It’s a way for you to start your life over. Find a new man, have a husband — and have children. We’ve purchased a stagecoach ticket for you to go to Missouri. You’ll stay with your Aunt Mae until it’s time to leave in the spring on the next Widow Wagon.”
“But, Daddy—”
“No. There’ll be no discussion. This is for the best. We’ll come and visit you. The steam engine is brand new, and before we know it, we’ll be able to take the train to visit you yearly. Until then, we can purchase a ticket and travel out to you by stage coach.”
And that’s how Daisy came to find herself in Independence, Missouri, answering an ad from one Noah Jensen in Chimney Rock, Nebraska.
And purchasing a ticket on the Widow Wagon.
* * *
The family had just sat down for dinner, finally together in the dining room, when the dogs out front began barking, a loud knock sounding at the front door. Ben answered the door, finding a Confederate soldier standing on their porch.
“Sir. I knew your son Bobby Gibson,” the soldier said.
Ben sighed, extending a hand. “Ben Gibson, Sir. I’m Bobby’s father.”
The soldier took a deep breath. “I know my company commander’s already been out to give you the sad news, but I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss. He was a good man, a good soldier.”
“Thank you, son,” Ben murmured, giving him a little nod.
“I was there… when it happened. He shot and killed a Yankee, but unfortunately, that same man killed Bobby with his rifle before he died.” The soldier reached into his pockets. “I have some of his personal belongings and wanted to get them to you.” He handed over a wallet, some pictures of family, and a folded document.
Ben frowned, opening the document and reading it. “It’s a… map. A map of Georgia?” He tapped the tattered paper. “What’s this red X mean?”
The soldier cleared his throat. “I don’t know, sir, but I have some other information that may be of interest to you. I regret to report that those damn Yankee soldiers got to your son before I could, and they took his money out of his wallet. They even took a ruby ring that was with this map. Bobby showed me the ring himself not a day before he died. They said that they were going to give the ring and the money to wife of the soldier Bobby
killed. They said his name was Jesse. I have a feeling that the ring is attached to this map somehow.” The soldier drew a piece of tattered paper from his breast pocket. “Bobby also had this letter in his shirt. I’m not sure why the Yankees didn’t take it too, but fortunately they left it behind. It’s a letter from someone named PGT Beauregard. He was the man who sent the map, and I’m thinking the ring too.”
“Uncle PGT?” Ben’s son Willie asked from the dining room, obviously listening in on the conversation at the front door. “Why would he send Bobby a letter?”
“I have no idea, son.” Ben stared at the map, shaking his head. We’ll have to get in touch with PGT.”
The soldier continued. “Well, Sir. I hope you can figure it out. But like I said, those Yanks said they was going to give that ring to Jesse’s wife. A Mrs. Daisy Anderson? They said she lived in Boston. I’m sorry, I ain’t got any other information than that.”
Ben shook the soldier’s hand. “It’s a tough job, I know it. We thank you soldier. Now, I’ll have to tell Bobby’s ma and the rest of the family. I’ll be in touch with my brother, General Beauregard. Then it looks like we’ll be making a trip to Boston to find out who this Daisy Anderson is — and where my son’s ring went off to.”
If you’d like to read the extended excerpt for Widow Wagon - Book Two, Chapter One can be found on Megan’s blog here.
By Megan Michaels
The Service & Submission Series:
Finding Submission
Mastering Inga
The Widow Wagon Series:
The Widow Wagon (Book One: Second Chances)
Published By Stormy Night Publications
What Naughty Little Girls Get
The Little Princess Cruise
From The Author
Thank you for buying this book. Authors love reviews and if you can take the time to leave a review for this book it would be greatly appreciated. Please feel free to friend request me on Facebook and Twitter!
Facebook
Twitter