Merry's Mission

by Margaret Tanner

  “I don’t know what to do.” Merry blinked back tears. It wouldn’t do for the two of them to break out into heart rendering sobs.

  “You ought to hear the shocking things some of the customers are saying about me now, all because of the way my mother’s behaving.”

  Blanche wiped her tears away. “You need to leave town, Merry.”

  “Leave?”

  “Yes, sooner rather than later before your reputation is so damaged some young fool cowboy, with a belly full of whiskey, tries to accost you in the street.”

  Merry gasped in shock. “They wouldn’t.”

  “There’s some who would. I’ve heard things about Zeke and his shady dealings. They’ll end up in trouble with the law and drag you into it as well.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Did you know he’s using your mother’s place to store stuff?”

  “What!”

  “There was a hold-up a while ago near Cheyanne. A wagon load of whiskey was stolen. I’m hearing Zeke is selling whiskey on the black market. Not hard to work out where he got it from.”

  This would explain the strange nocturnal comings and goings on their property. What had ma got herself into? More importantly, what has she got me into? No-one would believe she knew nothing about it. They could all end up in prison.

  “Merry, are you listening to me?”

  “Um, no. What were you saying?”

  “You should leave town. Get well away from your mother and Zeke before they drag you down to their level.”

  “Leave here? I couldn’t.”

  “You must. Go somewhere and start afresh.”

  “Where would I go?”

  “Maybe, um what about Laramie?”

  “Laramie!”

  “Yes, go on that mission your mother always used to talk about.”

  Merry gnawed her lower lip. She didn’t want to leave here and the only life she had ever known. With her mother carrying on like she was and Zeke’s probably criminal activity, life was becoming intolerable. It wasn’t a matter of it, but when the Nixons would disperse with her services.

  The hurt was terrible, yet she could understand their position. Without customers they had no business.

  “I’ll write you out a good job reference, saying you’ve worked for me. It won’t be a complete lie as you have worked for me on and off over the years. Come into town and get it in the morning. Pretend you’re going to work and take the stage to Glendo and catch the train there.”

  Blanche wrung her hands. “Say nothing to anyone about going. I’ll tell your mother a day or so after you’ve left here. I’m not sure whether you can get a train direct to Laramie. You might have to take two different trains, as long as you get yourself well clear of here.”

  “I’ll hate to leave here.”

  “I know, I know. It will be a wrench for you.” Blanche patted her knee. “But I don’t think you have any choice.”

  Merry nodded. “Thank you for everything. I’m sorry about what my mother did to you.”

  “She hurt a lot of people, and I think she’ll live to regret it, but it’s not your problem. You must think of yourself now. Edith is a grown woman. I wouldn’t have believed it possible for things to end up like this.” She shook her head sadly.

  “Maybe if I waited, she might come to her senses.”

  “It will be too late, once she marries that vile man, that’s it. Not only will he own your mother, but most likely your place as well.”

  “No, it’s ours free and clear.”

  “I’m not sure how the law works, but I’m pretty certain Zeke will be able to claim it. That’s if your mother doesn’t sign it over to him.”

  “She wouldn’t.”

  “No?” Blanche’s lips curled with disgust.

  Of course, she would, her mother was so besotted with that horrible man she would. As proof of her love for him or some such foolish notion.

  “You’re right,” Merry whispered, choking back on a sob. “She would let him have it, even though I helped pay it off.”

  ****

  Early next morning, after spending a sleepless night on her own, Merry washed, dressed and ate breakfast. She had packed two carpet bags with as much of her belongings as she could and hidden them under the seat in the buckboard, so they couldn’t easily be seen. It was unlikely Zeke or her mother would put in an appearance as early as this, but she wanted to be prepared in case they did. She would write a note to her mother and one to the Nixon’s saying she had decided to leave town and Blanche would deliver them. “I’ll wait for an hour after the coach departs, before I deliver the letters, well maybe a couple of hours in your mother’s case,” she had said. “I’ll tell them you’ve decided to go to Denver to stay with my niece for a while. That should throw them off the trail.”

  Merry didn’t think such a precaution was necessary, yet Blanche was adamant about not taking any risks. After hitching the horse up to the buckboard, she glanced around to make sure no-one was around, then dashed into the barn. At first glance she saw nothing, but on closer inspection, hidden under a piece of canvas with hay piled on top of it, were crates of whiskey.

  She reeled with astonishment, Zeke was dealing with at the very least, stolen goods, at worst he had taken part in the hold-up. Would her mother know all this whiskey was here? Of course, she would, Zeke would have told her, probably boasted about how clever he was, and the foolish woman had fallen for it.

  Having never had much to do with men in the past, she knew little about them. Now it appeared they were untrustworthy and deceitful. What else had Zeke been involved in? A shiver of apprehension passed through her.

  There was no choice, she either left Winslow or stayed and ended up…. Well, she didn’t know how she would end up. Despised, ridiculed and unemployed for sure, homeless most likely. Even if ma allowed her to stay here, how could she bear being in the presence of a man like Zeke when she didn’t trust him. If it came to the point of choosing between the two of them, her mother would pick him.

  Ma, what have you done? I don’t want to leave you, but I must. It was soul destroying because she couldn’t go to her mother for support, instead she had to slink away when no-one was looking.

  She left the buckboard at the back of the diner and trudged into Blanche. Her heart felt weighted down like saddlebags filled with lead. She tapped on the back door and a solemn faced Blanche opened it and gave her a hug.

  “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

  “It’s awful.” Merry scrubbed the tear trickles off her face. “I hardly slept last night. Maybe I should wait and speak with my mother again.” She couldn’t disguise the note of pleading in her voice. If only this was a nightmare and she would wake up and everything would be as it was before.

  “You don’t have any choice, my dear. Edith took that out of your hands.”

  “I’ll have to go to the bank and get money out, although there isn’t much left. I used most of my savings to help pay off our house.”

  “Don’t go to the bank. Leave straight away. I’ll lend you some. I’ve got a bit put aside here for emergencies.”

  “I can’t take your money you might need it yourself if you lose too many of your customers.”

  “I’ve heard there’s a Federal Marshal coming here.”

  Merry’s hands flew to her face in shock. “You were right, there are crates full of whiskey bottles hidden in our barn. Maybe I should warn….”

  “No, leave while you can. Get yourself to the coach depot and grab the first stage out of Winslow. You can always change to a different one later in the journey. As I recall, there’s a depot at Raeburn. You might even be able to get the stage straight through to Laramie or you could go to Boulder maybe.”

  “Do you think so? Maybe I could get off at some railway station.”

  “I’ve been thinking, you’d be safer on the stage. At least you have the driver for protection, on the train you could end up in a carriage with some
unsavory individual and have no-one to help you.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” Merry gnawed her lip. This trip could be more perilous than what she had envisaged.

  She stood in the kitchen while Blanche hurried over to the side of the cook stove and fumbled around until she was able to remove a brick and pull out a leather pouch.

  Merry didn’t want to take the money, but Blanche insisted.

  “You have wages owing, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, write a quick note to the Nixons authorizing them to give it to me. It should just about cover what I’ve given you. I’m sorry I didn’t have any more. This is my secret stash.” Blanche gave a strained smile. “Take it and good luck. Let me know when you get safely to your destination. Sign it Rose, then I’ll know it’s from you.”

  They hugged each other.

  “I’m sorry it had to end this way, Blanche. Thank you for everything, I’ll never be able to repay you.”

  “If you have a happy life it will be payment enough.” Blanche’s expression turned pensive. “Now, go while you can, and don’t look back.”

  Merry placed the money and the reference letter in her reticule, picked up her carpet bags and left the diner, probably forever.

  At the Winslow stage depot, she bought a ticket to Raeburn. Within the hour the coach was on the road leading out of town, taking her to an unknown future.

  A middle-age couple and an elderly man were her traveling companions. She didn’t know them, so they had probably changed coaches here at Winslow.

  She closed her eyes and let the conversation drift over her head. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. The way she felt right now, she might never speak again.

  Blanche had been kind, even after what her mother had done to her one-time best friend. How could she do such a thing to her? To me? All because of a no-good varmint like Zeke.

  Maybe she should have warned her mother about what could happen if the whiskey was found in the barn, especially with a Federal Marshal coming on the scene. Deep down she knew it wouldn’t have done any good. Ma was already embroiled in Zeke’s web of evil and wouldn’t want to escape. How could a reasonably intelligent woman fall for a man like him? Believe him ahead of her own daughter and her almost life-long friends? If that’s what love did to a woman, she didn’t want a bar of it.

  Chapter Three

  The coach arrived in Raeburn a few minutes after midday and set the passengers down. The elderly man was met by a couple waiting in a buckboard, family by the rapturous greetings he received.

  “There’s a two hour stop-over here,” the driver said. “Just around the corner is a nice little diner where you can get something to eat. Good food and cheap, or you can stay here at the depot.”

  “Thank you, I’ll got to the diner,” Merry said. It would give her a chance to look Raeburn over and see if it might be suitable for her to stay.

  “Get as far away from Winslow as you can.” Blanche’s words rang in her ears. I’ll think about it after I’ve eaten. Her brain always worked better when her stomach was full. How could she think of food at a time like this?

  It had come to her on the stage, Zeke would probably try to have her killed if he knew she’d found the whiskey. He might try to get rid of her even if she hadn’t, so he could have her mother all to himself, to manipulate at his will with no interference from her.

  By the time she made it to the diner tremors shook her body. Raeburn was too small; she needed a place where she could blend in with the locals. She had no idea how big a place Laramie was, although it had to be one of the biggest towns in Wyoming, or even Cheyanne might be suitable. Maybe she should toss a coin to select which place to go to.

  If she could get a job as a housekeeper on a ranch it would be perfect. Luckily, she didn’t have any striking features like red hair, which would make her stand out in a crowd. For once she was glad of her brown hair. If caught in the sun it did have copper highlights in it. Her blue eyes were not particularly noteworthy.

  The small diner was full. She glanced around looking for an empty table. A waitress came up to her. “As you can see, we’re full. If you wouldn’t mind sharing a table, I could ask the young lady down the back if you could share hers.”

  “Thank you, I don’t mind sharing.” I’m just desperate to get something to eat.

  The waitress hurried off to the back table, and after speaking with the occupant, waved to Merry who walked over to them.

  “Thank you for letting me sit your table,” she said. “I’ve just got off the stage and I’m starving.”

  “I don’t mind.” The young woman’s voice wavered, and she looked as if she had been crying if her puffy red eyes were anything to go by.

  “We do a nice beef pie,” the waitress said.

  “Thank you, I’ll have that, and a coffee with cream.”

  “I’ll have another black coffee, thank you,” the young woman said.

  Merry sat down. After a minute or so of silence she couldn’t stand it any longer. “I’m Merry.”

  “I’m Maryanne Baker.” She added nothing more.

  “Sorry if I seem nosey, but you look to be troubled.”

  “I am,” Maryanne gulped. “I don’t know what to do.” She wrung her hands.

  “Maybe I can help. I’ve got problems of my own, so I’d be a sympathetic ear at least.”

  “I don’t think anyone can help me. I did a foolish thing. My aunt said I made my own bed and now I have to lie in it.”

  “You live with your aunt?”

  “Yes. I’m in love with one man and I’ve promised to marry another.”

  “Dear me, what a dilemma.” From what Merry could see the girl’s brown hair was similar in color to hers, well maybe a little darker. She had pale blue eyes and would have been quite pretty if her face wasn’t red and blotchy from crying.

  The coffee came and Merry took a sip of hers. Maryanne took a gulp and yelped as it obviously burnt her mouth.

  “I was betrothed to Brian and he went off to the logging camp to get money for us. About a year ago, I received word he had been killed.”

  “I’m sorry.” Merry gently squeezed the other girl’s fingers.

  “I was so lonely and sad. All I ever wanted to do was get married and have babies. Anyway, I read about this woman, Mrs. Millicent Crenshaw who runs The Westward Homes and Hearts Matrimonial Service. She organizes Mail order Brides.”

  “Mail Order Brides!”

  “Yes, she matches you with someone she thinks is suitable and you write to them and well, then you get married.”

  “Isn’t it dangerous? You never know what kind of unsavory man you might get.”

  “Mrs. Crenshaw makes sure they are respectable. I exchanged a couple of letters with a man who has a small spread near Laramie. He sounds nice, and he sent me the money for my ticket and other expenses.”

  “And?”

  “A couple of days ago Brian sent a message through the telegraph office. He wasn’t dead, it was all a mistake and he was on his way home to marry me. What can I do?” she wailed. “I love Brian.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe if you wrote to this man and explained.”

  “If he doesn’t get a wife, he could lose his ranch. He got it through the Homestead Act of 1862. I only agreed to become a Mail Order Bride because I thought Brian was dead.”

  “I think you should write to this other man and tell him you can’t marry him. Maybe he could get himself another Mail Order Bride.”

  “He doesn’t have time. He’s going to lose his place and it’s all my fault.”

  The pie arrived. The aroma of newly baked pastry and hot meat filling invaded Merry’s nostrils. Would you like to share this with me?”

  “No thanks, I couldn’t I’m too upset. I’m a God-fearing person and feel bad about this. Enough of me. What are you running from?”

  Merry didn’t know why but suddenly she felt the need to unburden herself, so she told Maryanne what had happe
ned.

  “How awful, your friend is right, you would be in danger if you stayed. Why would a mother do such a thing to her own child?

  “I don’t know.”

  The pie tasted as good as it smelled, but she couldn’t really enjoy it. “We’re a good pair,” Merry said.

  “A couple of real sad-sacks,” Maryanne agreed.

  There was silence while Merry ate her pie.

  Suddenly, Maryanne sat bolt upright in her chair. “You can take my place.”

  “What!”

  “You can marry Nathanial Quinn.”

  “No, I couldn’t. The idea is ridiculous.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, well because I don’t….”

  “He sounds like a nice man, read his letters.” She pulled three envelopes out of her reticule and handed them over. “You could have the coach ticket to Laramie too.”

  “I couldn’t do that.”

  “Why not? You’ve got to get away from this place, and with a different name no-one would ever find you.

  Miss Baker,

  I received your name and address from Mrs. Crenshaw at the Matrimonial Service, and she thought we would be a good match.

  I am in need of a wife who can keep me company.

  My name is Nathanial Quinn. I am thirty-four years old, nearly six feet tall with dark hair and blue eyes. I have no physical defects, and as you see, I can read and write. I was born in Texas and now live on a small ranch a few miles out of Laramie.

  I am of clean and sober habits. I am a God-fearing man, but due to my ranch work am not a regular church goer. There are not many young and respectable women out here. Mrs. Crenshaw would have checked my references, so what I am telling you is the truth.

  I need a woman who is familiar with living out West. She needs to be a hard worker and of sober habits and good at housekeeping and be able to help me with some chores outside. I would not expect a wife to do heavy manual labor. My cabin is sound and solid, quite comfortable I think, but it needs a woman’s touch.

  Please write back to me C/o the Laramie Mercantile. I would be prepared to send you a ticket for the stage- coach. I think the stage would be easier than the train.