Oregon Trail Boxed Set

by Hutton, Callie

  Despite years of training, Angel slumped against the back of her chair. All her life, money was never an issue or concern. Things were provided before she even asked for them. She was accustomed to shopping at the finest stores, never checked prices; put everything on Papa’s account.

  This can’t be happening. Surely there’s money somewhere. Where will I live?

  She swallowed, posed the question. “I assume I will have to move to another house?”

  Once again Sylvia sat on her chair, and avoided Angel’s eyes. With shaky hands she took another sip of tea. “No, dear. There is no money for any sort of house.” She opened and closed her mouth to speak several times, and finally drew in a deep breath. “I have arranged for you to be married.”

  “Married?” Angel sat back up. Some of the fear seeped out. That would not be so bad. She had many suitors to choose from. Hopefully, Sylvia had picked one she could at least tolerate. “Then there is enough money for a wedding, and possibly a small dowry?”

  The woman glanced at her, then looked away. “No.” The cup rattled as she set it on the saucer.

  Her stepmother’s face grew even paler. She fussed with the timepiece pinned to her shirtwaist, her gaze darting around the room. It was obvious she had more to say that Angel would not like.

  Her fear returned with a vengeance. “Sylvia, you’re scaring me. This is all so puzzling. I’m trying to understand, but something doesn’t seem right. How will there be a wedding if there is no money for it? And who am I to marry?”

  Sylvia took a deep breath, and picked up a piece of paper lying alongside her teacup. “You are to travel to Oregon City to be a mail order bride.”

  The silence in the room had a roar of its own. Wide-eyed, Angel gaped at her stepmother. A loud buzzing echoed in her ears and black dots swam in front of her eyes. With a soft sigh, she slid to the floor.

  * * *

  In her semi-conscious state, Angel fought her return to reality. She flinched when the smelling salts were waved under her nose. Her eyes fluttered, opened, and she coughed at the pungent odor. The concerned eyes of Walker, the family butler, met hers.

  “Is she all right?” Her stepmother’s voice grated as Sylvia leaned over the butler’s shoulder.

  Angel moaned. It all came back in a rush. This was no nightmare to awaken from. Sylvia had arranged for her to be sent off into the wilds to marry a complete stranger.

  Walker, who’d been with the family since before Angel’s birth, put his arm around her back and slowly eased her into a sitting position.

  Angel glared at her stepmother.

  Sylvia stood in front of the fireplace, wringing her hands. The butler helped Angel to her feet and deposited her back on the chair. He bowed to both of them and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Silence ensued while Angel gathered her thoughts, then she addressed her stepmother. “Sylvia, whatever possessed you to arrange for me to be a mail order bride?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “There was no choice,” the woman snapped, flicking her skirt behind her as she continued to pace. “No respectable match could be made with our circumstances. Remember, even though he was on his deathbed when the deposits went missing, your father is being blamed for the debacle at the bank. We are all disgraced.”

  Angel stood and paced along with Sylvia. “Why can’t I be a shop girl, or a maid, or whatever else young ladies do to make a living?” Angel waved her hand in the air. “I could take a tiny room somewhere and stay in New York.”

  Sylvia sank in her chair and sighed. “Think, Angelina. Would you want to serve your friends in the fine shops you frequent? Would you care to be the upstairs maid in another friend’s house? Or how about if a young man in one of those houses, who at one time begged you for a dance, takes advantage of your vulnerable position under his roof? Demands for unwanted attentions happen all the time, you know. You could end up ruined, with no future.”

  “And you call traveling across country to marry a stranger a future? Of course I’m ruined.” Angel closed her eyes.

  I wish I could get Sylvia to share that lavender sprinkled handkerchief.

  The headache she’d awoken with on the floor had become a monster.

  Unable to deal with anything else, Angel headed for the door, then stopped abruptly, and turned. “Who is this man you’ve sold me to?”

  “Angelina, I have not sold you.” Sylvia frowned. “He seems like a nice gentleman. I contacted an agency that does these placements, and they assured me every applicant is thoroughly investigated. They even examine the background of potential wives as well.”

  “And have I been deemed worthy?”

  Sylvia glared as she unfolded the letter. “Sit, Angelina. It hurts my neck to look up at you.” She scanned the paper briefly. “His name is Nathan Hale. He lives in Oregon City. He’s a gunsmith.”

  “A gunsmith.” Angel whispered and dropped her head in her hands.

  Should I laugh or cry?

  At the Harman’s ball last week, she’d danced and flirted with a university professor, an attorney, an industrialist, and a young, handsome Duke from England. “Go on.” She gulped to keep a hysterical giggle from escaping.

  “Well, he has a lovely little house, so that’s promising, and he has children.” The last part came out a whisper.

  Angel’s head snapped up. “Children?”

  Sylvia drew herself up. “Yes, you’ve always wanted to be a mother, so this should please you.”

  Angel slowly stood, walked to Sylvia and took the letter out of her hands. Her eyes flicked back and forth as she read, and then widened. She crushed the paper to her chest.

  “Five!” She croaked. “He has five children!”

  “Oh, dear, is that what it says?” Sylvia’s hand fumbled with the collar of her dress.

  “Yes, madam, five children. Four boys and a baby girl.” She groaned and collapsed into the chair, as the cursed paper fell to the floor. “You must write to Mr. Hale and explain there’s been a mistake, and there will be no mail order bride from New York City.”

  “I can’t,” Sylvia murmured.

  Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

  “Because Mr. Hale has already sent the tickets for your trip, and I signed the contract with the agency yesterday. If you don’t go, we have to pay the fee Mr. Hale gave the agency. That’s five hundred dollars, and we don’t have five hundred dollars to spare.”

  “You could always leave your lady’s maid here to save money.” Angel raised her eyebrows.

  “Angelina, sarcasm doesn’t become you.” Sylvia stiffened. “And furthermore, it’s all been arranged. The house is no longer ours, I leave in the morning for Virginia, and your train leaves tomorrow, early afternoon.”

  Sylvia sniffed and walked to the door. “I suggest you go to your room and pack. I have a terrible headache, and it will take Daisy and me all evening to pack my clothes. I will see you in the morning before I leave.” Without a backward glance, her shaky hand grabbed the doorknob and she left the room.

  * * *

  Oregon City, Oregon

  “Papa, Julia-Rose stinks.” Luke held his nose for emphasis as he danced around his father.

  “See if Matt can change her diaper. I’m trying to get supper together.” Nathan Hale grabbed the pan smoking with a charred steak. Forgetting to snag a towel first, he dropped it, and yelled as he burned his hand. “Dammit, anyhow.”

  “Dammit, anyhow,” Luke’s twin, John echoed.

  “John, make yourself useful.” He spoke over his shoulder as he washed the steak off under the water. “Call your brothers to supper.”

  “Supper!” John cupped his hands and shouted from where he stood.

  “Don’t stand there and scream, for heaven’s sake. Go get them and bring them back.”

  Nate pulled semi-clean dishes from the counter and filled them with soggy steak, and hard carrots. At least there was fresh bread and cookies from the bakery. He slapped the plates on the tab
le, and grabbed silverware from the drawer.

  “Papa, Julia-Rose doesn’t have any clean diapers.” Matt entered the kitchen, holding a naked Julia-Rose at arm’s length.

  “Well, did you at least wipe her off?” Nate poured milk into glasses lined up on the counter.

  “Yeah, I washed her. What can I put on her?”

  “Put her nightgown on for now, and after we eat, I’ll find something. Let’s hope she doesn’t wet herself before then.”

  Mark entered the kitchen and shoved John into Luke. The three laughed and pushed each other.

  “Everybody sit down and eat.” Nate yelled as he grabbed the twins by the back of their shirts.

  Matt came back with Julia-Rose, set her on cushions stacked on a wooden chair, and wrapped the leather strap dangling from it, around her. Nate buttered a piece of bread, and put tiny pieces on the table in front of the baby.

  Silence prevailed as Nate bowed his head and offered thanks for the food, and his family’s health. Then the kitchen filled with the sound of five lively children shouting over each other while shoveling food into their mouths.

  “Papa, these carrots are hard.” Luke banged the vegetable against the table.

  “Carrots are good for you, whether they’re cooked or not. Eat them anyway.” Nate double-checked Julia-Rose’s carrot pieces to make sure they weren’t too big. Not happy with them, he scooped them up and put them on his plate.

  John stared at him, food falling out of his open mouth. “Why did you steal Julia-Rose’s carrots?”

  “I’m afraid she’ll choke on them.”

  Mark immediately grabbed his throat. “I’m choking, steal my carrots, too.”

  He glared at his son. “Never mind, just eat.”

  Before long, the plates had all been emptied, and the boys devoured the cookies from the bakery. Nate cleared his throat, and looked at each boy in turn. “I want to talk to you about something.”

  Four pairs of eyes met his. Julia-Rose, oblivious to the seriousness of her father’s voice, continued to bang the table with her spoon, a soggy cookie in her other hand.

  “Things have been a little crazy around here since your mama died.”

  God, I hope I’m doing the right thing.

  “I know it’s been tough for all of you. And for me, too.” Stiff fingers raked through his hair. “To make things better, I decided to get married.” He mumbled the last part.

  “What?” Matt’s eyes grew wide.

  “I said,” he cleared his throat again. “I’ve decided to get married.”

  Nobody spoke for a moment. Four boys sat open-mouthed. “Does that mean we’ll have a new mama?” Matt wanted to know.

  “Yes.” Nate’s voice strengthened. “You’ll have a new mama.”

  “I like mamas.” Luke wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “They bake cookies, and kiss you goodnight. Sarah says her mama reads story books to her, too.”

  “Is she pretty?” John asked.

  “Well, I’m not rightly sure. I didn’t get a picture of her, just letters.”

  “Where is she now?” Matt shoved the last of his cookie into his mouth.

  “Right now, she’s on her way here. She’s coming all the way from New York City.”

  “New York City?” Luke and John said at the same time, eyes wide. “That must be a million miles away.”

  “No.” Nate chuckled. “Not a million miles, but a long way. Clear across the country.”

  “What’s her name?” Luke climbed down from his seat and wiggled onto Nate’s lap.

  Nate played with the soft, silky hair on his son’s head. “Her name is Angelina. Angelina Hardwick. However, she tells me she likes to be called Angel.”

  “Angel?” John rolled his eyes, blushing.

  “Is she an angel like our mama?” Luke’s serious eyes stared at Nate.

  “No, son, she’s not an angel like your mama. Your mama is an angel in heaven. This Angel is right here on earth.”

  Mark hadn’t said a word. Nate turned to him. “Mark, what do you say about this?”

  “I don’t want no goldarned new mama.” Red-faced, the boy pushed back his chair and ran from the room.

  Nate sighed. One out of five wasn’t bad. He placed Luke on his feet and began collecting dirty dishes from the table. “All right boys, get washed up and into bed. It’s getting late.”

  The boys dragged their feet, never anxious to end their day. Nate walked to the window, and, hands shoved into his pockets, stared at the darkening sky. This had not been an easy decision. Six months wasn’t a long time to grieve a wife of ten years, but his life had begun to fall apart.

  His marriage had been satisfactory, if not great. Lonely after leaving the army, and miles from his home, Amy had filled a hole in his heart. He tried not to dwell on whether he would have married her if she hadn’t become pregnant. She did, so he did, and five kids later, here he was, ready for a new wife. He sighed and turned back to the table, grabbed the rest of the dishes.

  He still had to deal with the no diaper issue, so he stacked the dishes in the sink. Mrs. Darby, his neighbor and sort-of housekeeper, would wash them in the morning. Julia-Rose grunted and thrust her head back, wiggling to get out of the chair.

  “Come on, baby, bedtime for you, too.” He undid the strap, picked her up, and hugged her chubby little body to his chest.

  What is that?

  He gaped at the warm, wet stream running down his leg from underneath Julia-Rose’s nightgown.

  “Mama.” She smiled up at him. Then with the spoon she still held in her hand, she smacked him in the eye.

  2

  A light tap sounded on Angel’s bedroom door as she closed the last trunk. Her eyes stung from all the tears she’d shed since yesterday. Sadness had turned to anger as she’d packed her clothes. If she could think of one other choice, she’d tell Sylvia she could go be a bride to a stranger with five children.

  In reality, Angel had no choice. The newspaper this morning had carried a front page story about her father’s bank disaster. It wouldn’t take long for the invitations to cease and her friends to stop calling.

  She whipped the door open. Sylvia stood in the doorway, having given up her mourning clothes for a brand new pale yellow and brown outfit.

  “Here.” Sylvia shoved a packet into Angel’s hands. “These are the letters that were sent to the agency for you, or rather for me as you, from Mr. Hale. They will tell you a little bit about the man and the life you’re going to.”

  Her stepmother had the grace to look embarrassed when Angel didn’t take it from her.

  “You’ll also see your tickets in there, and a bit of traveling money. You are to leave by train this afternoon. When you reach St. Joseph, Missouri, you will take a stagecoach the rest of the way.”

  When Angel still didn’t reach for the letters, she grew impatient. “Take them, Angelina. As I told you yesterday, there is no other choice.”

  Angel took the papers from her hand. They felt heavy. Sylvia made a move to leave, then hesitated and turned back. “I’m sorry we couldn’t stay together, and believe me when I tell you I wish there was another way. I’ve never had to make these kinds of decisions before. I really do hope it all works out for you.”

  She cupped Angel’s chin in her hands. “You’re a strong woman, Angelina. Much stronger than me.” Sylvia leaned in and gave her a kiss on her cheek. With skirts swishing, she hurried down the hall.

  Angel walked to the window, and pushed the curtain aside. The last person in her life hurried down the path to the coach her sister had sent. Daisy followed behind, sniffing into a handkerchief.

  She spread her fingers on the glass, as if to touch Sylvia. Would she ever see her again? Not likely. She cursed the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

  Dear God, how am I going to handle this?

  With sweaty hands, she picked up a black straw bonnet and tied it snugly under her chin. One last look around the room she’d slept in every night of her li
fe, and she was ready to go. With the packet of letters from her future husband in one hand, and an already soggy handkerchief in the other, she left.

  * * *

  Angel dabbed at her eyes, watering from the smoke pouring in through the window on the train about to leave for St. Louis, Missouri. Her trunks had been loaded, and she settled in a seat across from a woman with a young child.

  She studied the child. Having had no experience at all with children, Angel regarded her with the fascination one might have for a zoo animal. The little girl screeched when her mama set her in the seat. When the frazzled mother handed the child an apple, she threw it across the aisle, barely missing Angel’s head. The mother smiled a tired apology.

  The poor woman’s hair hung loose from the bun at the nape of her neck. A definite stain of some sort of food had landed on her blouse. Fatigue was written all over her face.

  The girl climbed onto the seat and began jumping up and down, ignoring her mother’s entreaties to settle down. Each time the woman sat the child back down, she would scream “No!” and climb back up again to resume her jumping. Several passengers in the vicinity scowled in the child’s direction, and shaking their heads in annoyance, changed to other seats. Embarrassed for the mother, Angel stayed put.

  Sweat beaded her forehead. What in heaven’s name would she do if one of Mr. Hale’s children behaved that way? Her first instinct would be to hang the child out the window, but it didn’t seem likely Mr. Hale would approve.

  She sighed and looked out the hazy window as the train jerked in its attempt to gain momentum. After several miles of smooth riding, Angel opened her reticule and withdrew the packet of letters from Mr. Hale to Sylvia. She untied the pink ribbon, and began reading.

  Appalled at the lies her stepmother had told, she had a hard time fighting down panic as she read how Mr. Hale wanted a wife who knew her way around the kitchen, could take care of the garden, and put up the produce for the winter.