by Zina Abbott
Otto looked into the face of the man who had not said a word since he had handed him the gold locket. “It looks like it was made for another.”
The man nodded. “Ya. A customer with same name paid me to make for wedding gift. He was soon to marry. Later, he comes to me, very sad—what you say, in mourning. With the fever his sweetheart died. His money he asked me to return. I give him most.”
“Could you not have redone the locket to take the name out?”
The jeweler nodded. “Ya. Each time I get it out to take out name, something tells me, wait. When I hear you speak German and know your name, I know it is for you I wait.”
It was all Otto could do to keep from laughing. The old Bavarian was quite the salesman. Yet, when Otto looked into the stern face and eyes that stared at him intently, he felt something shift inside him. He looked down and studied the locket more closely. “It’s beautiful. Unfortunately, I don’t have a sweetheart to give it to. I don’t know what I would do with it.”
“A sweetheart someday you will have.”
“I don’t know. I’m in the Army. I never know when we’ll be called into battle. There’s always a chance I’ll be killed before I can meet a woman and fall in love.”
The silence grew deafening as the jeweler said nothing while he studied Otto and waited for him to decide.
“How much do you want for it?”
The longer Otto looked at the locket after he heard the price the jeweler asked, the more he felt the desire to buy it. It was as though it might serve as a promise against the future—a guarantee, of sorts, that he would make it through the war and meet a woman he wished to marry. He was not ready at this point in his life, but he hoped to someday find someone to love—some woman just right for him with whom he could build a family.
In his mind, he started to add up the amount of cash he had on him.
The door to the shop burst open and Ellis’s voice shattered Otto’s musing. “You planning to camp here all day, Atwell? We’ve finished our meal and are ready to see more of the town.” The man paused as he caught sight of the locket. “That’s a pretty little bauble that will warm some woman’s heart. You going to buy it?”
Ignoring how the jeweler’s posture grew straight and stiff at having the locket called a “bauble,” Otto turned to the two men and spoke to both Carter, who had also entered, as well as Ellis. “I don’t know. The locket has a sad, but romantic, history. He told me what sounds like a good price for gold jewelry, but I don’t really know how to judge these things.” Otto told him the amount he had been quoted as he turned the locket over and showed them the inscription.
Ellis whistled in appreciation. “That’s a good price. I might be tempted to buy it myself. I could give it to a lady-love and tell her my name is Otto.”
“No. Only to this man will I sell.”
They all turned to stare at the jeweler, a stubborn, determined expression on his face.
His voice languid, Carter added his opinion. “It is an excellent price, Atwell, considering the gold it contains and the quality of the work. I’d buy it if I were you. If nothing else, leave it with your mother for safekeeping. Tell her, if you never find a sweetheart to give it to, it’s hers to keep, with your love.”
Convinced he should buy the locket, Otto pulled his money out and began to count it. “You better be right, gentlemen. I will have to eat cheap the remainder of this trip and back at the fort, I won’t be able to purchase any extra delicacies from the sutler until next payday.”
“I’ll front you if you need it.”
As he finished his transaction, Otto nodded his appreciation to Carter, who had made the offer. He took the locket the jeweler had carefully placed in a leather poke.
“The strings you tie to your belt and hide inside.” The jeweler patted his trousers below the waist.
Otto held out his hand to shake that of the jeweler. “Thank you, sir. May I know your name?”
“Ya. Wilhelm Mueller. My children, by Miller they choose to be known. It sounds more American, they say. But, the name given me by my Bavarian parents I am proud to go by.”
“Thank you, again, Mr. Mueller. I hope the war has treated you well.”
Wilhelm Mueller shrugged. “My war, it is not. My customers come from north and south. Some trouble we have at the start of the fighting, but out of it I try to stay.”
“Thank you, again, and take care. I will keep this locket safe until I find the right woman to give it to.”
.
.
.
.
ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI – LATE APRIL 1868
CHAPTER 4
~o0o~
Libby Jones had been summoned. The mother superior wished to see her in her private office. She suspected what the meeting concerned.
Libby knew she could not stay where she lived for much longer. Being under the care of the sisters in the special home had been a wonderful blessing—a respite from the fear and difficulties she had experienced in her life during the previous years. However, the purpose for her being there had been achieved. In spite of how long and seriously she had considered the path she should choose for her life, she finally realized she did not wish to move to the convent and start the process of becoming a novice.
Mother Catherine must have realized months before Libby did she was not suited for holy orders. Mere weeks after Libby arrived, arrangements were made with a marriage agency in the city. Libby had never heard of such a thing before joining the sisters. Although for centuries marriages had been arranged between those who lived a great distance from each other, Mother Catherine had explained it had grown increasingly popular ever since the war ended. So many men in the East had died, leaving either widows or sweethearts with no good prospects for marriage. Of the men who did survive, many had moved west—whether because they wished to escape the war, developed a desire for riches, or wanted better farmland. As they settled, they realized not as many women could be found west of the Mississippi River. That was why the marriage agency in St. Louis—the metropolis on the Missouri shore of the river that tended to divide west from east—found itself well-positioned to connect grooms seeking brides. Or so Libby had been assured.
Libby Jones, the name Genevieve had chosen for herself, knocked on the door to the mother superior’s private office and entered when she was bidden to do so. Following Mother Catherine’s direction as she pointed to a chair, Libby sank into the hard wooden seat on the opposite side of the desk.
Mother Catherine got right to the point of the meeting. “You look well, Libby. You know you cannot stay here much longer. There are others we need to help, just as we have helped you.”
Libby dropped her gaze to her lap. “I know. I am grateful for how you and the sisters have provided for me in my time of need.”
Mother Catherine pulled a letter from an envelope she had on her desk. “Have you thought more about the opportunities we have discussed? A decision will need to be made soon.”
“Did you finally hear from the cattleman in Texas? I know we were waiting for his letter before I made a decision.”
Mother Catherine slowly shook her head. “No, my child, other than that first letter we responded to, I have heard nothing. It is possible the agency put him in contact with more than one potential bride, and he felt another woman would be the better choice for him. We must have faith that God will work to arrange things for your good.”
Libby focused on the letter in the older woman’s hand. “Is that from the rancher in Kansas?” At the mother superior’s nod, Libby bit her lip as she fought down a wave of apprehension.
Too close.
“What is your concern about this man, Libby? From his letters, he seems like he has a well-developed ranch and is settled. He says he is twenty-eight, which is quite a bit older than you, but I have known of many successful marriages where the husband is a decade or more older than the wife. My guess is, he is well-settled and would be a good marriage prospect.”
/> “He lives in Kansas, doesn’t he? Is Junction City in the settled part of Kansas?”
The mother superior leaned back in her chair and studied Libby. She assumed her most reassuring voice. “Junction City is in eastern Kansas along the Kansas River. It is near a fort, from what I recall, although I can’t remember which one. It has been over ten years since Kansas was opened up for white settlement, and most of the hostile Indian tribes in the area have moved farther west.”
“So, it is close to the Missouri River and not very far from here.”
Mother Catherine wrinkled her forehead with confusion. “I’m not sure what your concern is, Libby. It is clear across the state of Missouri from St. Louis. Yet, you will be able to take a train to Kansas City, Missouri, cross the river, and board another train to take you the short distance to Junction City. The trip will not be all that difficult.”
Libby nodded in agreement. She fought back the gulps of air as her lungs began to heave with panic.
Too easy—easy to follow.
“There was no one in the western states of California or Oregon looking for a wife?”
Mother Catherine rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and sighed as though seeking patience from a higher source. She leaned forward. “No, my child. The agency did not offer any men planning to move to the far west who were seeking to marry wives before they go. As for men who are already in California or Oregon or one of the more unsettled territories, I told the agency to not offer us those letters. You must understand, Libby, that although you have worked hard and been a great help to us here during your stay, what you have done has not been much as far as bringing in funds to support our cause. Even if a prospective husband paid your way, to find a wagon master who would accept a single woman would be difficult. And to send someone with funds to outfit you personally for a long journey, plus arrange for you to travel with a family going to the same location, requires more resources than what we can manage.”
Libby bit her lip. She realized a big part of where she was to end up depended on finances—those of the groom sending for her, and what the convent could provide to get her started in her new life.
And then there was the other issue. “You’re sure this man from Kansas has said nothing about his expectations in a wife? He will not be disappointed with my age, or…or my appearance?”
Mother Catherine smiled in encouragement. “He has mentioned nothing about wishing for a blue-eyed blonde, if that is what concerns you. With a Welsh name like Jones, he should not be surprised at your appearance, for it is well-known the Welsh tend to have dark hair and eyes. You are very attractive, Libby. Do not reject the gifts God has given you.”
Libby stared at the woman after her comment about the Welsh people. Was she blind?
Libby chose to say nothing more on that topic. “And this man in Kansas, he understands I can read, but I do not write well? He knows, doesn’t he, I dictated these letters and another wrote them? I don’t want him to think I misled him in this.” As a young girl, Libby had gone to school for three years. Afterwards, she was required to stay home and help around the house and farm.
“You have read his other letters, and there is nothing in this one that should worry you about your education level. Besides, many men are unconcerned whether or not a wife can read or write as long as she can keep a house and care for his family. Here.” Mother Catherine handed the letter to Libby before she interlocked her fingers and rested them on her desk, signaling that she would patiently wait while Libby read through the letter, sounding out words that did not easily come to her. She leaned forward once Libby folded the letter, the signal she had finished. “The only concern I have is that he does not appear to be of a religious nature. I added that question to the last letter I wrote for you. As you read, he said he’s not, but he does not mind if you attend church on occasion.”
Libby wondered how many other things Mother Catherine had added to the letters supposedly dictated by her. Once again, panic rose in her gullet and threatened to choke her. “Did you specifically mention I wish to attend a Catholic church?”
Catherine shook her head. “No. I am aware you did not wish to share too much personal information. However, Libby, I do encourage you, once you are married and settled, to make every effort to visit a priest every opportunity you can. Attend a mass as often as possible and go to confession.”
“I will try.”
“So, are we settled on Mr. Chambers of Junction City? He is ready to send your tickets and travel money as soon as we tell the agency you have made a decision.”
Libby felt seized with internal paralysis. She did not feel ready. However, she must go. She could not stay in St. Louis. She could not return home. She had no money of her own and no other options. She lowered her gaze and nodded. “I will marry Mr. Chambers from Kansas.”
“Thank you, Libby. I believe you have made the proper choice. I will write the letter and send it off today.” Mother Catherine rose from her seat, signaling to Libby it was also time for her to rise and return to her assigned duties for the day. She leaned forward and patiently waited until she caught Libby’s eye. “Pray, child. Trust God will go with you. Be sure to see the father and let him hear your confession before you go.”
Libby nodded. She would go to confession, but she would sin greatly once again, just as she had each time the priest had heard her confession. She had not told him the whole truth about herself, and she did not intend to. She held back because she worried he might not appreciate the danger she faced. If he spoke of it to the wrong person, it would be disastrous for her.
Then, when she became involved with the nuns, she realized some of them were very naïve and trusting—too trusting. They could not envision anyone having evil motives behind seemingly innocent questions and would tell strangers what they knew. It was best they did not know anything about her. As much help as she had received over the past several months, she had felt justified in not revealing the full truth about herself. Not even as she prepared to leave St. Louis would she dare truly confess all.
She also had no intention of going to confession once she reached Kansas—not until she felt safe enough to tell of all her sins and deceptions.
.
.
.
.
WEST OF ABILENE, KANSAS – MAY 1868
CHAPTER 5
~o0o~
Compared to the previous two weeks, it had been an easy day. Otto smiled as he recalled Henry’s statement the day before about skipping Sunday observance. Even though this was a Tuesday, it felt more like a Sunday since he and Henry had taken it easier that day.
They had started with a hearty breakfast eaten more leisurely than had been the case most mornings after Henry arrived. He had sent Henry out to do barn chores while he focused on washing the dishes and cleaning up the house as best he could. Although his mother would not be there that trip, knowing his father, the Palmers and Uncle Sidney would spend the night in his house proved to be motivation enough. As much as he did not enjoy making multiple trips up and down his stairs, he made sure all his clothes and other personal belongings were put out of sight in his room. He swept, mopped and dusted.
Otto helped Henry haul buckets of water from the holding tank by his windmill over to the garden. Henry might or might not remember to water his vegetable patch. He figured if they didn’t get rain in the next few days, his fledgling sprouts needed enough moisture in the soil to hold them until he returned home and relieved Henry.
Later that afternoon, after soaping up and rinsing off from his hair down to his toes and shaving off his beard and moustache, Otto dressed in clean clothes to greet his expected guests. He started heating a pot of beans he had soaked all day. He made sure the water barrel inside was filled, and he cleaned out his dressing table washbasin and filled his pitcher for Mrs. Palmer to use.
After doing everything he could think of to prepare the house, he decided to go outside to enjoy the pleasant temperature of the spring
afternoon. For as tired as he felt, he could have spent the day harvesting wheat instead of cleaning around the house.
The door slammed behind Otto as he stepped out on the back stoop. “Henry, you got those chicken cages put together the way I showed you?”
Henry walked out of the barn, a grimace of dissatisfaction on his face. In his hands he carried two cages made of inch-thick branches from the trees that banked nearby Mud Creek. “I think so. I wet the rawhide like you said, and it looks like it shrunk up tight as it dried. They’re holding together pretty good.”
“They look sturdy, Henry. You did a fine job.”
“Yeah, I suppose.” Henry lifted them up over the sideboards of Otto’s wagon. “Like I said, if you’re bringing chickens home, you best bring a wife with you to take care of them. If Pa sends me here again to help, I’m not much on taking care of chickens.”
Otto put his hands on his hips and studied his youngest brother. “Don’t worry about the chickens, Henry. What’s got you so down in the mouth, anyway?”
“I like tending your livestock, and all. It’s not like you’ve got so much that they’ll keep me hopping from the time I get up until I sack out at night. It’s just…I wish I was going with Pa to take the cattle into Junction City instead of being stuck out here by myself. It’s like Pa’s still treating me like a small child. I can drive a team. I can ride, and I can herd cattle, too. But, he’s leaving me behind.”
Otto shook his head. “That’s not how I see it. It’s no big deal to drive a wagon. I know you’ve been doing it a long time. Same with riding a horse. I’m sure you could drive cattle just fine. But, take my advice, Henry. Don’t let on to Pa you’re disappointed about being left behind.”
Henry kicked a pebble across the yard and folded his arms. “Why do I have to act all happy about it when I’m not?”
“Because, the way I see it, Pa wants to know just how much you can be trusted to do the right thing when you’re by yourself and there’s no one else to rely on. You go with him and everyone else, there’ll be someone to jump in and yank you out of any trouble, should it arise. But, you staying here by yourself, even though it will just be the one night, everything is all up to you. If something you don’t expect happens, you have to figure out what to do by yourself with no one else to step in and take care of you.” Otto pointed towards the bed of the wagon. “We got all the sacks of grain loaded?”
