by Angela Lain
Mary-Beth Adamson.
The woman who had married John. The woman who had stolen her fiancé.
April looked into her coffee cup. She knew in her heart that was an unkind thought. Mary-Beth had not flirted and schemed and taken John Adamson, she had merely been the girl who had caught his attention after it became obvious that she, April, was unable to become his wife. At the time it had hurt, but she had long since realized that she hadn’t loved John with an undying devotion. If she had, she would have made more effort to solve the impasse in which they had found themselves.
Something could have been schemed; a housekeeper of some sort would have worked. In the end it mattered little, because her father had given up on life. It may have taken him ten long years to join his wife, but it was done, and April now believed she was the one who had suffered the most.
“Miss Cousins? May I join you?”
Mary-Beth stood hesitantly by the table.
April regarded her in some surprise. For the first two years of Mary Beth’s marriage to John, they had studiously ignored each other, since then they had reached the point of exchanging niceties, but they had never been friends. April had so rarely been in the town, friends were few and far between, and Mary-Beth would never have been a first choice of companion.
“Please,” she gestured to the seat opposite. “Help yourself.”
Mary-Beth settled, placing her coffee cup and a plate with two cakes onto the table, and dropping a newspaper beside them.
“Would you like a cake? I got two so you could have one too.” April stared at her in surprise. Mary-Beth gave a small embarrassed smile. “Yes, I know it is unexpected, but I feel… I feel I must offer you my condolences.”
April dropped her gaze and gave a small shrug. “Thank you. It has not been easy.”
“Nothing has been easy for you for many years,” Mary-Beth observed. “What will you do now your father is gone? Will you stay and hire help to work the farm? Or will you sell up and move on?”
April met Mary-Beth’s blue gaze, aware that her own grey eyes were less appealing. Why that should worry her now, she didn’t know. The mere fact Mary-Beth had asked the question meant there was gossip. There was always gossip. She wondered what was being said. Was this woman here to gloat, or to truly sympathize?
“What are people saying?” she demanded softly.
Mary-Beth pushed the cake plate towards her, and murmured, “I think I should warn you, there is gossip, and it’s not nice gossip. It is entirely unfair, because you have done nothing to earn any such words.”
“Of what am I being accused?”
“Oh, hardly accused, but… your father was in debt.”
April sighed, of course such a fact would be known.
“He was,” she acknowledged, “and to the best of my knowledge I have paid off all those debts. If there are any more, I will settle them when asked.”
“And the farm? Is that still yours, or does it now belong to the bank?”
April should have anticipated this; Mary-Beth’s brother was one of the bank tellers.
“I have settled with the bank, the property is now theirs, and I have a sum of money in the bank,” she returned coldly. She didn’t see why she should divulge such facts, but if she didn’t, rumor and gossip would embroider the truth to seem even worse.
“I am sorry. It was very impolite of me to ask,” Mary-Beth murmured, “but I wish to help you if I can. I realize this may be very inappropriate, but my mother has lodgings available if you are in need. She always felt you had been very hard done-by, and she would help you out if needed.”
April stared in disbelief.
She didn’t want charity!
Then again, she did need somewhere to live.
“I will think on it,” she returned stiffly.
Mary-Beth gave a small nod. “Also, I assume you may look for some sort of employment, but I did wonder if… well… maybe you should think to become one of these mail-order brides?”
April stared in utter amazement. Had the woman lost her mind?
“Why on earth…? Why would you think I would even consider…?”
“Because you were going to marry John. Obviously you had intended having your own home and family. The chance was taken from you. Maybe it could still happen?” She gazed earnestly at April. “I still feel so guilty that I took the chance from you. I feel it more now than I did when I was younger. Until I had my children I didn’t truly realize what you had lost.”
April let out a huff of surprise. “You should not feel guilty. It was not your doing, or even John’s really. I was angry at first, and jealous, but you didn’t cause it. John moved on when we couldn’t marry. In truth, there was no point in him waiting when he wanted a home and family; with me it wasn’t going to happen. And now, I am on the shelf, a spinster, too old to attract a man. And I am undesirable, the daughter of the town drunk.”
“That is all rubbish,” Mary-Beth retaliated. “I believe you are little older than me, twenty nine or thirty at most. Many men do not want a child as a wife. You can run a household, and a farm. You have great value. That is why you should look at something like this.” She pushed the newspaper over the table. “Here, in the corner.”
April read the small advertisement.
Land owner of 32 years, in need of wife and mother for young son. Must be capable of all domestic duties and an honest god-fearing woman. Experience of outdoor work would be an advantage. Letters of introduction to Mr. J Kendrick c/o The Post Office, Feather Hill, Wyoming.
“I really don’t think…”
“But you should. You should at least consider the possibility. Maybe not this particular one, although Feather Hill is only sixty miles or so from here, but another may take your fancy.”
April looked down at the advertisement. “There are many of these?”
“If you can get a recent newspaper, yes there are. This paper is several weeks old, it was more to show you the possibilities.” Mary-Beth paused. “Believe me, I am not trying to get rid of you, but I can understand that there is little left for you in this town. Maybe a fresh start would be for the best?”
April stared again at the words on the page.
“Eat your cake, Miss Cousins, and I hope you will give it some consideration.”
***
Half an hour later she set off around the town to enquire at each and every establishment for the possibility of work. She would do whatever was required. She had already agreed to visit Mary Beth’s widowed mother, to discover if lodgings would suit them both.
As she walked, the newspaper advertisement burned a hole in her brain.
What if she tried it?
What if she wrote to this man?
His requirements for a wife seemed easily fulfilled. No doubt he would receive many replies, and would choose the woman who gave the best account of herself.
Could it possibly be her?
Would being a wife to a stranger be any worse being a drudge for her father? At least this man wanted someone.
She rode back to the farm in the growing dusk, with lodgings organized, should she decide to use them, but still no nearer obtaining a job. No-one had anything for her. Some had been sympathetic, some dismissive, but no-one had handed her a lifeline.
That made the decision simple. She would write the letter.
The truth was she had given up on finding a husband to love, and who might love her. Love was something which caused pain, look what it had done to her father! If he hadn’t loved her mother so much, he would have got past losing her, and lived his life properly, he wouldn’t have sunk into despair. No, love was to be avoided. Therefore a marriage of convenience, with all the benefits of a home, was a good idea.
A mail-order bride.
Not something she’d even thought about, but it seemed a sensible way forward for a woman in her position.
After feeding the animals and making a small meal, she sat at the table and tried to compose a letter
. Selling herself wasn’t as easy as she had believed. What would Mr. Kendrick wish to know? Was he concerned about her looks? Certainly he must be interested in her state of health, and her strength to deal with the work.
She picked up a scrap of paper and began her composition. She wrote, and crossed out, and altered. Finally she selected a clean sheet of paper and copied her completed missive. Hopefully she had included enough detail to interest Mr. Kendrick.
Tomorrow she would take the letter to the post office, and await any reply.
She moved the newspaper across the table, and the date at the top caught her eye. Her stomach dived in disappointment, Mary-Beth had said it wasn’t a new paper, but it was worse than she had imagined. It was more than six weeks old, from the middle of October. What were the chances Mr. Kendrick had not already made a choice?
Anyhow, since she had to be out of here in five days, there was no chance she would hear from him in time to save her from the dreaded lodgings.
She sighed in resignation, doused the lamp and made her way to her lonely bed.
Sleep would not come. She tossed and turned, and worried and wondered. Then an idea dawned, and idea so audacious that she sat up in bed.
Could she?
Could she really do something so bold, so brazen?
Why not? Her reputation was shot, her father had seen to that, therefore she would do it!
She would pack up her things, go to town, order the bank to sell whatever remained in the house, and she would get onto the stage when it came through in two days’ time.
She was going to Feather Hill and she was going to introduce herself to Mr. Kendrick, personally.
***
Unable to rest, she rose at dawn and began to pack her bags. The weekly stage would pass through Parson’s Creek sometime on Monday morning, and she had much to do before that.
She found the trunk which had accompanied her family when they moved to the house, into this she packed things she could not carry, but she did not wish to lose. Things like books, personal mementoes, and family treasures like the silver picture frames. She had no way of transporting the trunk, so she would request that it was taken to the bank and stored for her until she sent for it, if that was ever possible.
There were animals here, she had to feed them, and she had to ensure someone would come to collect, and look after them, when she had gone.
Bay Boy and all his harness could probably find a home at the livery. Mr. Emerson would most likely pay her for him, probably not a great sum, because he would want to sell him on for a profit. As far as April was concerned, any money was worth having and she would have no further use for the horse at this time.
She rode into town and set about organizing her departure. She visited her neighbor and organized the sale of all the remaining animals, the milk cow and the chickens. Her neighbor also arranged to take any remaining animal food. She felt she’d made a reasonable deal, she hardly got top dollar, but every dollar she gained was a win.
Her visit to the bank saw the sale completed, and the storage of her trunk organized. She left, having arranged to collect her money on Monday morning. She had wondered at the wisdom of travelling with money, but she would need the funds, leaving them behind in the bank would not benefit her at all. It was hardly a fortune, she would have to conceal the money about her person, should there be such thing as a stage hold-up!
Organized at last, she headed back to the house for the last day in her home. What she was abandoning still had value, the bed covers, the pots and pans, but at this time they were of no use to her. Everything she could not comfortably carry would stay here, only small mementos could go with her.
She ate her final meals, and tended the animals for the last time. Sunday was spent making certain she had everything, and had forgotten nothing for this venture.
CHAPTER FOUR
April was up at dawn on Monday morning. She was on the horse and away, before she could change her mind. The stage was not due till mid-morning, but she would be there and waiting in good time.
Three hours later, having sold the horse and harness, she mounted the stage. She had begged Mrs. Marlow, at the mercantile, for a place to tidy herself and prepare to travel.
By the time she reached Rock Springs she knew her dress would be creased and dusty, but she wanted to start out in a respectable fashion. She had even found a smart hat from the depths of a trunk. It had been her mother’s, and it was a far cry from the everyday bonnet she wore. It was probably old-fashioned, but it was a cut above the normal, and made her feel less dowdy.
She had been well aware of the looks she received as she mounted the stage. No-one had bothered to say goodbye. She did wonder if she should have informed Mary-Beth Adamson of her plans, but the thought had not crossed her mind until she was about to mount the steps into the coach. No matter, she could always write her a letter and let her know what had occurred.
In truth, by the time the stage had rolled out of Parson’s Creek, the gossip would be on its way.
April Cousins, aging spinster and daughter of a drunk, had finally left their cozy little town.
***
The stage pulled up at the rail halt in Rock Springs, three of her four fellow passengers were transferring to the train to continue their journey to the west. April needed to go north, her continued journey would be another stagecoach. How long she might have to wait for this she knew not.
The weather had turned wintery again. They had already had some snow. Today there was a cold wind and another scattering of snowflakes. Hardly surprising, it was less than three weeks until Christmas.
She descended to the muddy ground and waited for her luggage to be removed from the top of the coach. The guard busied himself with the task, and soon each passenger was reunited with their bags. The driver pointed her in the direction of the booking office where she could check the times and availability of a stagecoach to Feather Hill.
April found she was in luck, the coach would leave first thing the next morning, all she needed to do was find a room for the night. The clerk gave her directions to the hotel.
As she turned from the desk a train roared and hissed its way into the station. Her fellow passengers had been none too early in their arrival to catch this monster! She looked through the grimy glass of the window, and decided to remain in the office until the smoke and steam had subsided a little. There was no point in getting her travelling dress covered in smuts from the engine.
A few moments later she observed a young woman descending from the train. Elegant and willowy, definitely a little shorter than she was, she wore a fashionable dark blue outfit and her golden blonde hair was tucked beneath a bonnet much more becoming than her own. She was no child, April guessed her to be in her mid-twenties. She was an attractive woman.
April saw a man follow her from the train, he appeared to offer assistance, but the woman brushed past him and made for the office.
She approached the clerk at the desk.
“I need to take a coach to Feather Hill, when is the next available seat please?”
“First thing tomorrow morning, Miss. I will get you a ticket?”
“Thank you. I would also appreciate advice on where I may spend the night.”
The man April had seen descend from the train entered the office and walked up behind the young woman, he crowded her in very familiar fashion. She glared at him over her shoulder and he stepped back slightly.
“I can show you where to stay. Allow me to escort you,” he persisted.
“No, thank you!” she retorted sharply.
“A lady should not be walking alone in a strange town,” he leered at her.
April had seen enough to realize this girl was a stranger to this obnoxious man; he was attempting to proposition her. She decided to take a hand.
“Of course she should not, that is why I am here.” April stepped forward. “I’m glad to see you have arrived, now we may make our way to the hotel. Excuse us, please.” Sh
e stepped to the other girl, took her elbow and directed her towards the door. For just two seconds she resisted, before meeting April’s eyes. She blinked and accepted the assistance.
“Thank you, I was unsure of where to go.”
They walked from the office onto the street, the man followed, but not closely. April was well aware that he watched them walk away.
“Thank you so much,” the girl murmured. “He has been bothering me for the last three hours, there was no way to avoid him on the train. I believe he only got off at this stop in order that he might follow me.” She glanced at April. “You were heading for the hotel, too?”
“I was; I am also taking the morning stage to Feather Hill, so we will be travelling companions.”
“Oh that is wonderful. I hadn’t realized how daunting travelling alone would be. Have you travelled far?”
“Not really, I came from Parson’s Creek, my hometown, by stage coach just this morning.”
“I am Miss Melody Jacobs, and you?”
“Miss April Cousins.”
“Pleased to meet you, indeed, Miss Cousins.”
“I think April will suffice.”
“And you must call me Melody, we shall be friends. It will be so good to arrive in Feather Hill, and already have a friend.”
They mounted the steps into the hotel.
“Since we are to be friends, maybe we should share a room?” Melody suggested.
April couldn’t help but wonder if she too was a little short on money. She agreed readily, it seemed a reasonable suggestion.
Once directed to their room, April was keen to discover exactly why Melody was heading for Feather Hill. She had an awful sinking feeling that she knew the answer.
“Melody, why are you going to Feather Hill?”
Melody sat on the bed. “Actually, I am going there to be married, or at least that is the intention. I am a mail-order bride.”
April’s heart sank even further. “And the name of your intended?”
