by Debra Samms
"Yes. All three of us," said Moira, and turned to go back upstairs in search of more sheets and towels and pillowcases.
***
The following Sunday, Catherine and her two friends attended an early morning church service at the newly built Roxbury Presbyterian Church. Please, dear God, show me the way, Catherine prayed silently. I cannot believe I am meant only for laundries and kitchens . . . please show me what I must do. I place my trust in you, oh Lord, to guide me and show me the way. Thine will be mine. Amen.
After praying, she felt a calm come over her. She knew that her prayer would be heard and that somehow things would be better. Prayer always gave her courage to carry-on. She would accept God’s way.
As they filed slowly out of the beautiful stone building with the rest of the churchgoers, an older woman in front of them dropped something – looking more closely, it appeared to be a catalog and something of importance.
Quickly Catherine caught it up before it became trampled under the feet of those behind her who were oblivious to what had happened. When they got outside into the foggy coolness of the morning, she tapped the woman on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, ma'am," said Catherine politely. "I think you dropped this."
"Oh!" said the woman, looking at the booklet. "I certainly did. Thank you. Though I must say," she said, looking at Catherine and Bridget and Moira, "I should probably just give it to the three of you."
The woman held out the catalog. Matrimonial Times was written in fancy script across the top. "I found my daughter reading it. But it's for girls who have no prospects of finding husbands where they live."
"No – prospects?"
"Yes," she said patiently. "There are letters in it from men living in the west. Men who are looking for brides. They are willing to pay passage for young women who will marry them and live as frontier wives."
The woman sniffed a little. "Fortunately, my daughter has already had two proposals from good men of means right here in Boston. She only has to decide which one!"
Catherine smiled politely. "If you don't want this catalog, would you allow us to take it?" God sure works in mysterious ways.
"Go right ahead," the woman answered, and Catherine could see her eyes flick over their threadbare dresses and well-worn boots. "Maybe you'll have good luck with it."
Catherine looked skyward and set a little prayer of thanks, grateful for this wonderful possibility.
"Thank you, ma'am," said Bridget.
"Good day," said Moira.
And then, as soon as the woman turned and walked away, all three girls turned around and raced back to the Boston Female Society for Destitute Orphans as fast as they could go.
CHAPTER TWO
Back in Moira's room, she and Catherine and Bridget all piled onto one bed and immediately began studying the copy of Matrimonial Times.
"Look at this," Catherine whispered. "It is almost all advertisements from men out in the west. Men looking for brides, just like that woman said!"
"It certainly is," said Bridget. "They all have letters printed, stating what they want in a wife."
"And look at this," added Moira. "The catalog provides an address. We can write to them!"
All three girls looked at each other. And then they went back to reading each and every word of each and every ad very, very closely.
***
Much later that night, after getting all of her work done and reading the Matrimonial Times catalog at every available moment, Catherine pulled the tiny night table to the edge of her bed and sat down in the lanternlight with pen and ink and a couple of sheets of cheap white wood-pulp paper.
The catalog lay open on the bed beside her. One of the letters, in particular, had caught her attention.
Just as Catherine dipped her pen in the little inkwell, Moira came back into the room. "Catherine! What are you doing? Oh, wait, don't tell me. You're answering one of those letters!"
Catherine couldn't help smiling. "Yes. I am. I am writing to a cattle rancher in Oregon."
Moira shook her head. "You're braver than I am. I'd never have the courage to write to a complete stranger. A man could write anything in an advertisement. What if you got there, and he was not what you expected? Or worse?"
Before Catherine could answer, Bridget walked in. "I'm not sure I could send such a letter, either. Are you sure you really want to do this?"
Catherine paused with the pen above the paper, and then began writing the date across the top of the page. "Yes. I am sure. There is something about this one particular man that . . . makes me feel I have known him all my life."
The two other girls stared at her. She set down the pen. "I will read his notice to you."
Catherine picked up the catalog and cleared her throat. "This is a man named Raymond Cowan. He is twenty-nine years of age. He owns 640 acres of land, nearly 200 head of cattle, and 15 horses in the Willamette Valley of Oregon.
"Also living on this piece of land are Raymond's two younger brothers, an uncle, and the uncle's wife."
"So," said Bridget softly, "there is already a family there."
"Yes," breathed Catherine. "There is. And he describes himself as a strong, hardworking and sincere fellow who has lived and worked hard on this land since he was a boy of ten. He is now ready for a wife unafraid of hard work . . . a wife who can help him grow a family."
She looked up at Bridget and Moira. "It sounds perfect for me. I'm going to send him a letter."
Bridget placed a gentle hand on her friend's arm. "I know you are heartbroken over Jimmy's asking another to marry him. Are you sure you are not doing this to run away from your distress?"
Catherine stood up and pushed the little table back, and began pacing across the small room. "I don't know. You may be right. I only know that I am so weary of endless work and gray walls and gray skies. Mountains and trees and sunlight seems like heaven to me."
Moira stood up, too. "But what if you do not love him?"
Catherine paused, and tried to find the right words. "Does that matter so much?" she asked, as her voice began to tremble. "My family has been dead since I was eight years old. Jimmy is marrying another. I may as well start over in a place very far away."
She sighed. "Moira, it doesn't matter if I love him or if he loves me. After Jimmy Thomas, I will never love anyone again."
***
Catherine took her carefully composed letter to the post office the very next day, and learned it would take less than fourteen days for her letter to travel all the way to Oregon by train. "So quickly!" said Bridget. "You'll hardly have time to compose your next letter before you hear from him again!"
But in truth, the weeks crawled by very slowly. Finally, one day, Catherine was overjoyed to get a letter from Mr. Raymond Cowan of Salmon Jump, Oregon.
He wrote of how pleased he was that she had written to him and that he trusted she was well. And he told her that his family, like hers, had originally come to the United States from Ireland. His father had come to Oregon in the early years and claimed a parcel of land that they now work.
In her next few letters, Catherine told Mr. Cowan that she had been orphaned at the age of eight when her parents died in a house fire. She told him that she had lived at The Boston Female Society for Destitute Orphans until age ten, when she had been sent to a family that already had four children of its own.
Yet she never mentioned that she had been only an unpaid servant in that family. Nor did she say that she had been allowed her to go to another family, and then another, but it was always the same . . . she was forever the outsider and never really a part their lives.
In closing, Catherine told Mr. Cowan that she had gone back to the orphanage to work, at the age of nineteen, out of gratitude for all they had done for her as a young child alone in the world . . .
. . . and never spoke of how she had, in truth, gone back there to escape the memory of a young man she could never have, or that she had written a letter to a rancher on the other side
of the continent for that very same reason. Some secrets should never be revealed.
***
Some six months after Catherine had written the first letter, she received the answer she had been waiting for.
Miss Black, Mr. Cowan wrote, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?
The news traveled fast. All of the girls in the house congratulated Catherine and gave her their best wishes. "Will you have to go to Oregon by wagon train?" asked Bridget.
Catherine looked at the letter again. "No," she said, feeling very relieved. "Mr. Cowan says the trains have been running to Portland for a few years now. The journey will only take about ten days from Boston." She smiled. "I will travel just like the mail does."
Then she caught her breath as she read a little further. "He says he will send me first-class train fare, which includes both sleeping car and dining car!"
Catherine looked up at the two of them, and did not know whether to laugh or cry from joy. "Well, Moira – Bridget – I think heaven really and truly must be in Oregon!" At once, they grabbed one another and jumped up and down.
CHAPTER THREE
Town of Salmon Jump
Willamette Valley of Oregon
April, 1887
Raymond Cowan sat on the wooden bench seat of his farm wagon, driving his team of compact and refined Morgan horses on the road from Clear Springs Ranch toward the city of Portland.
Beside him on the seat was Aunt Millie, the wife of Raymond's Uncle Andrew – his mother's brother. In the back of the wagon rode Raymond's younger brother Henry. The youngest of the three Cowan brothers, George, had stayed behind along with Uncle Andrew to do some mending on the barbed-wire fences around the cattle pastures.
Of course, George had pouted as he usually did when he didn’t get his way. But he dutifully stayed to help his uncle.
The town of Salmon Jump was only a mile from the ranch. There were plenty of folks out on this fine April morning, doing their shopping at the Mercantile in the center of the street or at the butcher shop at the far end. Some were getting their horses shod at the blacksmith's forge, while others had business at the small post office or with the sheriff.
And, of course, there was the little wooden church, nicely whitewashed. Its doors were sitting open on this Saturday morning as a couple of women brought in spring wildflowers for the altar . . . and perhaps for a bride's bouquet.
"Place is growing, Raymond," said Aunt Millie. "Look, there. We're getting a newspaper printer going in beside the post office."
"We'll be big as Portland before you know it!" said Henry.
"I hope not," said Raymond, and he meant it. "I like the town just like it is. I could never live in a place like Portland. Far too big for the likes of me. A country boy."
In a moment they had left Salmon Jump and were traveling down the remaining four miles of packed dirt road that led to Portland. The road had the Willamette River on one side and thick stands of enormous black cottonwood trees and tall Douglas fir on the other. The green fields were brilliant like precious emeralds.
"I don't think I could live in the city, either," said Aunt Millie. "Not with countryside like this all around us." She deliberately took in a deep breath of the fresh clean air and smiled at this simple pleasure. She thanked god every day to live in such a beautiful place.
Then she turned back to her nephew. "So, Raymond, you haven't told us much about your new bride – only that she's from Boston and has lived there her whole life."
"A city girl," called Henry from the back, with a smug expression.
They ignored him. "What else can you tell us about her?" said Millie.
But Raymond only looked straight ahead as he guided the team down the road. "Get up, Midnight. Go on, Scout," he called to the horses, and they broke into a shambling trot. The harness and wagon jingled and rattled as the team jogged along. Raymond often kept his thoughts to himself and was hesitant to speak his mind. Truth was, he wasn’t sure what to expect of his intended.
"City girl," Raymond began. "Never been out of Boston. Yankee. I said I wanted a woman unafraid of hard work, who could help me build a family. This one said that's why she answered. Hard work and family."
"Well, that sounds very promising, Raymond," said Aunt Millie. "But how do you think she'll feel about living in such a different place? There are no animals in the city, except maybe rats and a few stray dogs and cats."
"No rattlesnakes or bears, either," added Henry. Again they ignored him.
"There's one other thing," Raymond said. "She's an orphan."
"Orphan?" called Henry. "What do you mean by that?"
"It means she has no parents. No family who could take her in," Aunt Millie told him. She turned back to Raymond. "How old was she?"
"Eight years old. House fire."
"Oh. I'm so sorry. Then – where has she been living?"
"At an institution in Boston."
They were all silent for a time. Raymond cleared his throat. "I know it will be a different kind of life for her. But that is why I proposed to this girl, not one who has been pampered by her mother or father all her life. Catherine will be used to hard work and won't expect to be spoiled out here. I think she'll do fine."
"But what about love, Raymond?"
He glanced at Aunt Millie. "What about it?"
She sighed. "Do you think you can love this woman? Do you think she can love you?"
"I – " He paused and cast his eyes to the right. "I don't expect love. I'll give this woman a home and provide for her. I'll treat her kindly. But I don't think anyone would expect love out of an arrangement like this. I'm sure she doesn't, either."
Raymond slapped the reins against the horses' rumps, and they picked up the pace on the road to Portland.
***
At long last, after months of waiting and working and getting ready for the ten-day train ride to Portland, Oregon, Catherine stood up from her seat on the train and prepared to meet the man she was to marry.
She wore new lace-up boots and a heavy cotton skirt and jacket in a pretty shade of dusty lavender. Her white linen shirt was the best she could afford, after many extra hours worked in the laundries of family homes near the orphanage. There was even a big leather traveling case, worn but usable, that had been part of a donation to the Society for Destitute Orphans.
Following the other passengers as they slowly made their way off of the train, Catherine took a deep breath and stepped down onto the ground.
There were several wagons and buckboards waiting near the small wooden station. They all had stout heavy work horses pulling them, though she did see a beautiful carriage with a pair of fine muscled horses.
She looked around for a man of about twenty-nine years who might be Raymond Cowan . . . and who perhaps had his two younger brothers with him, or maybe an aunt and uncle.
But there was no one here who fit that description, or who seemed to be looking for her.
Then there was the sound of pounding hooves and rattling harness, and she turned to see a big farm wagon swing into the station yard. It was drawn by two huge chestnut Morgans, and at the reins was a tall, dark-haired man with a short-trimmed beard.
The man wore clean denim work pants with a white shirt, a long black coat and a Western-style hat. Beside him was an older woman, and in the back was a younger man who looked very much like the driver.
Catherine knew that this had to be Raymond Cowan at the reins. Her first thought was that Jimmy – the one she had thought she loved so much – had been nothing more than a boy.
This was a man.
The driver of the wagon pulled up near the building, and then stepped down and walked straight over to Catherine.
He took off his hat and stood before her. For what seemed like forever, he only stared at her in silence. She could see his eyes flicking over her.
Catherine began to feel uncomfortable, and even embarrassed. Oh, he doesn't like me! And how I must look after ten days on a train!
In a near panic, she wondered if she could get back on the train – and then he finally spoke. "Catherine Black?" he said quietly, in a deep voice. "I'm Raymond Cowan."
Very shyly, Catherine extended her hand, and he gently closed his fingers around it. "Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Cowan."
Raymond smiled at her. His penetrating eyes remained serious and fixed only on her. "This way to the wagon," he said, and she held her traveling bag close and followed him to the waiting team of strongly muscled horses. These strong powerful horses would take her to her new home and her final destination.
CHAPTER FOUR
Catherine rode up on the wagon seat in between Raymond and Aunt Millie. Henry jumped into the back again, and they started down the road towards the little town of Salmon Jump.
They all seemed a little uncomfortable, as though no one knew what to say; but Catherine was soon caught up in looking around her at the beautiful scenery and trying to glance at Raymond Cowan out of the corner of her eye.
The countryside was truly magnificent. Not a building in sight! There were a thousand different shades of green. The air she breathed was so fresh, she could not get enough of it. She smelled the sweet scent of spring blossoms and the earthy aroma of the rich soil and fragrant evergreens. There was only the wide tumbling river to one side, sparkling in the sun, and the dirt road in front of them, and very tall and densely packed trees everywhere else.
She looked skyward and saw a flock of birds that she could not identify. But they flew in a pattern, as if they were soldiers in the sky. With purpose and direction in unison. What heaven on earth, she bemused. Nothing like the city of Boston. Nothing at all.
Eventually Aunt Millie began asking a few questions, especially about life in Boston. Catherine was grateful to find that the older woman was warm and friendly.
