by Kit Morgan
“Duncan, why are those men standing outside Mrs. Drury’s?”
Duncan glanced at his younger brother. Harrison was inquisitive, but this was more than a question born of curiosity. Their mother was in there, and these men wanted her. He growled low in his throat, grabbed his brother’s arm and headed toward Mrs. Drury’s boardinghouse. “Where’s Colin?” he asked as he pulled him along.
“How should I know? I can’t keep track of the bloke.”
“He’s your big brother. He’s supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”
“I’m not a child –”
“Don‘t be daft –of course you are.”
“– and I’m not the one that needs to be looked after, Mother is.” Harrison looked at the growing crowd of men blocking their path to the front porch. “Isn’t she, Duncan?”
Duncan’s jaw tightened. “Oh, Mother, what have you done?”
“Wait – are these men here to help us get into the Kinzey party?” Harrison asked.
Duncan glared at him. “Something of that nature.” He didn’t dare tell him what was going on, though Harrison may have figured it out already. Still, Harrison was young enough not to care how they managed to go westward – to him it was one big adventure. Colin wasn’t much better, but at fourteen he was becoming a little wiser, thank Heaven. All three were going to have to keep their wits about them on this journey.
“Come on, then,” Duncan said. “Let’s go inside.” He shouldered his way through the group milling around the porch. “Excuse us.” He passed one especially shifty-looking chap, looked him up and down and tried not to breathe. Maybe he was decent under all that grime, but he doubted it.
Upstairs he went straight to their mother’s room and knocked on the door. “Come in,” she called softly.
Duncan entered, Harrison still in his grasp. “Mother, I found Harrison …” He spotted Colin near the window and sighed in relief. “… good, I see you have the other one.”
“The other one?!” Colin objected, coming toward him. “Is that what I’m reduced to? You make me sound like one of Father’s pointers. Poor dogs – a shame we had to leave them behind.”
“Never mind that now.” Duncan released Harrison’s arm. “There’s a group of men outside, and more coming by the minute.”
“Yes, I know.” Their mother said. “Sit down, you three – I have something I have to discuss with you.”
“And we know what,” Harrison said.
Her eyebrows rose. “You do?”
“We all do,” Duncan said. “And I can’t say as we agree with it. I know I don’t.”
“Boys, if we want to go west, I have to do this,” she countered.
“But isn’t marrying a stranger like … well, sacrificing yourself?” Colin asked.
Their mother looked away. “Perhaps. But that’s what parents do – sacrifice themselves for their children. I’m sure this is what’s best for us.”
“Perhaps for us,” Duncan agreed. “But not for you, Mother. This isn’t what Father would want you to do, and he’s only been gone …”
“More than six months,” she cut in. “I hear there are women out west that remarry within days in order to survive.” She’d also heard that some who didn’t were forced into lives of immoral trade just to keep living – if one could call that living.
“But we are surviving,” Colin said. “We’re fine here.”
“For now.” She reached for Colin and took his hands. “If we stay here, we might settle and never be able to live our dream – your father’s dream.” She let go and looked at each of her sons in turn. “It happens, you know.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Duncan conceded. “It almost happened before. Father never would have left England if it weren’t for you.”
“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Which is why I’m going to see this through and get the three of you where he wanted. Our land of milk and honey.”
“And savages,” Harrison said with a gleam in his eye.
Colin smacked him in the back of the head. “Indians.”
“Colin, don’t hit your brother,” his mother said. “And yes, I’m sure there will be some natives there.”
“But to get married in order to go?” Duncan reiterated. “I just don’t see …”
“Duncan, I’ve made up my mind. The only way we can leave with Mr. Kinzey’s company is to abide by the company’s rules. I have to do this.” She looked at him. “We’re almost out of money, you realize.”
Duncan hadn’t. “What?”
“I’ve set aside the amount your father thought we’d need to get started when we reach our destination. But outside of that, we don’t have enough to make it to next spring.”
“Mother,” Harrison said. “Are we going to Oregon City?”
“Your father wasn’t sure if he wanted to go that far. He always said he’d know when we reached our new home.”
“The one crawling with Indians, marauders and rattlesnakes,” Duncan added.
She sighed. “You always were the practical one, my dear.”
“I’m the oldest. It’s my job to look out for all of you.”
“Even Mother?” Harrison said.
Duncan looked into his mother’s eyes. She was determined to do this. She had, as they said in America, grit. Not to mention buckets of stubbornness. “Mother is going to do what she wants, no matter what I say.”
“I value your opinion, darling,” she said softly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have called you here.”
“And if we all say we don’t agree with this plan?” Duncan said.
“You have a right to your opinion, but this is the plan I’ve made. The only one I see that will get us what we all want. Besides, do you really want to stay here?”
Duncan glanced at his brothers. To be stuck in a place like Independence – a frontier town of a few thousand which had only received its charter that year – wasn’t appealing. “No, but there has to be another …”
“If we were still in England, would you put up such a fuss over an arranged marriage your father and I came up with for you?”
Duncan blanched and gulped.
“Especially if it was a matter of duty?” she tacked on. “After all, your father and I had an arranged marriage. We made it work.”
“Didn’t you love Father?” Harrison asked with concern.
“Of course I did, my darling, more than anything. But I grew to love him, over time. I did it once, I can do it again.”
Duncan sighed in frustration. “You sound so sure of yourself. Are you really so determined?”
She stood straight. “Yes.”
He looked at his brothers again. “We want a say in the selection.”
“Of course.” She clasped her hands in front of her.
Duncan took another deep breath. “Very well. Let’s bring the first one in.”
“And that’s after my third wife died …” an older gentleman explained.
Duncan did his best not to grimace. He’d sat through ten candidates so far, none of which he considered suitable for his mother. He glanced at her and saw she was doing her best not to wring her hands. Instead she sat, every bit the English lady she was. She was too good for them, all of them. And the ones they’d interviewed so far were appallingly dirty. This old man was the cleanest of the lot, but he wheezed like a bellows and hadn’t planned on going west at all.
“So, uh, I hear you have yourself a bit of land back in England. That so?” the man asked.
Duncan closed his eyes in resignation. “Good day, sir.”
“But Mr. Sayer, I was just asking …”
“Good day, sir!” Duncan shouted.
“There’s no need to raise your voice, darling,” his mother said.
“About the land?” the gentleman repeated.
His mother closed her eyes and sighed before she too said, “Good day, sir.”
“Fine. I wouldn’t want to marry such a high and mighty snob anyway.” The man stood, shoved his hat
on his head and headed for the parlor.
“He was cleaner than most,” Mrs. Drury commented as she entered and set a teapot on the table. “Shall I bring more cookies?”
“No, thank you,” Duncan said.
“You know, it’s none of my business, Mr. Sayer, but don’t you think your mother can choose her own husband?”
Duncan turned in his chair to look at her. “Yes, she can. But I’m here to make sure these gentlemen don’t get it in their heads that she can be pushed around. That she can say no and has the … manpower to make it stick.”
His mother put her hand on his knee. “And I appreciate it, dear. But I’m afraid Mrs. Drury does have a point – you’ve hardly let any of them speak.”
“I haven’t had to. Anyone can see that the ones we’ve met so far won’t do.”
She took a steadying breath. “True, they won’t. I’ll just have to keep looking.”
“Seems to me the only decent men in this town aren’t interested,” Mrs. Drury commented.
“Decent? You mean there are some?”
“Duncan, please,” his mother said.
“Sorry, Mother, but this business has me … well, not myself.”
“I know, and I appreciate you being here,” she told him again. “Now let’s press on, shall we?”
“Quite.” He peered through the dining room doors into the parlor and waved at Harrison, who in turn waved the next man into the dining room. This man looked much like the rest: dirty, smelly, deplorable manners. And what was this business about land in England? They’d sold their land. The only one with any real land or holdings was his Uncle Anthony in Sussex, his father’s cousin. And what good did that do any of them?
“Howdy, ma’am – name’s Jacob McConnell. Got me a boy ‘bout the age of that one in the parlor. Goes by Jacob as well.”
“How lovely,” Duncan’s mother said. “Won’t you sit down?” She motioned to one of the other chairs at the dining table.
“Thank ya.” He removed his hat and sat. “So, um, word is ya need to get hitched. What I wanna know is, how much money’s in it for me?”
“Oh bloody h–”
“Duncan!” his mother snapped, cutting him off. She looked at Mr. McConnell. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I haven’t any money other than what’s needed for supplies once we get where we’re going.”
Mr. McConnell sniffed a few times and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “How much is that?”
His mother frowned. “Is that really any of your business?”
“If’n we’re gonna get hitched, it is. I got debts to pay.”
Duncan rested his forehead on his hand and groaned.
“Indeed,” his mother sighed. “I think I’ve heard enough, Mr. McConnell. Good day.”
“But I ain’t done askin’ questions yet. Like, I won’t take on no younguns, no sirree. One I got’s enough.”
Duncan’s head came up. “Then you’ll be happy to know that you and my mother will not suit. My brothers are a horrible trial.”
Mr. McConnell’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I’m out.” He got up and left.
“Oh no,” Mother said with a smile. “He would never do.”
Duncan smiled back and snorted. She put her hand on his and laughed.
Harrison ran into the room. “What’s so funny?”
“Everything,” Duncan said with a chuckle. “Send in the next poor sod.”
“Duncan!”
Jefferson stood across the street from the Drury House and eyed the men lingering on the porch. They’d thinned considerably over the last few hours, but two more had just showed up. How much longer would this go on? And why was he hanging around watching it? He had no intention of marrying the woman. He was … curious. Yes, that was it.
“Whatcha doing, Pa?”
Jefferson turned to Sam, his eldest son. “Watching men make fools of themselves.”
“Yep, heard about that. I guess it’s worth it if she’s pretty.” He looked at his father. “Is she?”
Jefferson nodded before he caught himself.
“That’d make it tolerable, I guess.”
“Tolerable?”
Sam glanced at him. “Man’s gotta keep his bed warm with something. Might as well be a woman.”
“Sam, I’ll hear none of that. A wife is more than that.”
Sam smiled. At eighteen, he liked the ladies, maybe too much so. One more reason, Jefferson thought, to take his boys west.
“I hear she’s rich.”
“I don’t think so,” Jefferson said. “That’s just a rumor.”
Sam shook his head. “Dunno, Pa. I heard tell she’s related to royalty or somethin’ back in England.”
“Not true,” Jefferson corrected. “She’s just a widow with three sons, trying her best to make a life for herself.”
Sam eyed him. “Ya interested? ‘Cause ya sound like ya are.”
“Of course not. And besides, what if I was?”
“Pa, Ma’s been gone a year,” Sam argued.
“A year maybe a long time to some men, son. To others, it’s nothing but a blink of the eye.” Jefferson went back to watching the men. “Mighty big country, Oregon Territory. Women are scarce out there. Best learn to treat them with respect if you hope to have a wife one day.”
“Wife?” Sam scoffed. “What do I want with one of those?”
Jefferson bit his tongue. Sometimes he wondered if his sons were his. Seemed the older they got, the more disrespectful they became. “Everyone needs someone, Samuel. Even you.”
“And what do you need?” Sam asked. “That woman in there? Why else would ya be hangin’ ‘round out here this long?” He strode away before Jefferson could so much as open his mouth.
Dagnabit, was the boy right? Why was he loitering across the street, watching and waiting? For what, to see Mrs. Sayer come onto the porch? Appear in a window? To get another glimpse of the woman that hadn’t left his mind since he first laid eyes on her? He sighed. “Cooke, get a hold of yourself.”
A lad of maybe twelve or fourteen came out to the porch, directing more men inside. Another, probably his brother, followed them in. Jefferson hadn’t noticed him until now. He wondered where the third one was – had he seen him? He couldn’t remember.
What he did remember was Pete Smithers and Kinzey’s other men fighting over her like dogs over a bone. She’d never survive alone, sons or no sons. If the rumors were true and she did have some money, many would marry her just to get their hands on it and leave her. Worse still, others would use her first … he glared at the remaining men on the porch. No woman deserved such treatment. Unfortunately he’d been in Independence long enough to know that most men there would do exactly that.
Before Jefferson knew it, he was across the street, standing on the boardinghouse porch. A good thing too, as a minute later Pete Smithers bounded up the steps, a wily smile on his face. “Well, well, if it ain’t Jeffy Cooke. I owe ya a punch in the face.”
“Drop it, Smithers. I never touched you.”
“Nope, but ya sure got Mattson good!”
Jefferson shook his head. “He earned it. What are you doing here?”
“Same thing everyone else is,” Pete said with a grin.
“You’re wasting your time.”
“Me? What are you doin’? Think ya got a claim on the pretty lady?”
“I’m not here to …” Jefferson stopped. Wait a minute, why was he standing there? A moment ago he’d been across the street, minding his own business. Then suddenly …
“Ha!” Pete laughed. “Yer no better’n the rest of us, Cooke. Yer after her money and land and don’t care a whit about her. Admit it.”
Jefferson looked at the shorter man. “Unlike you, I do care. She’s a human being, not a piece of meat.”
Pete sneered. “Yeah, sure.”
“Er, excuse me …” Jefferson and Pete turned to see one of Mrs. Sayer’s sons staring owlishly at them. “Sir, would you be so kind as to follow me?�
�
“Me?” Pete jabbed his chest with his thumb.
“No, the other gentlemen.”
“Me?” Jefferson said. “What for?”
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” the boy said.
Jefferson glanced at Pete, who could only shrug. “All right, let’s go.”
“Fine.” The boy turned to the other men still standing around. “That’s all for today, gentlemen.”
“What?!” Pete spat. “But I just got here!”
“Alas,” the lad said with a smile.
Jefferson had to hand it to him – the boy had guts. Pete Smithers might be short, but he was tough. He hoped the boy realized the risk he was taking.
“I’m sorry, but it’s getting late,” the boy continued. “Mother will see one more this evening. If she can’t decide on someone suitable, we’ll try again tomorrow.”
At this point several men started to form a circle around Jefferson, the boy and Pete. “Well, all right,” Pete grumbled. “But I’m gonna be here bright and early tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure there will be a need, but one never knows,” the lad said with a mischievous smile. “Now off you go.” He tapped Jefferson on the arm. “Not you, sir. You’ll be the last one today.”
“But I didn’t come here to …”
“Yes, ya did!” Pete yelped. “No sense denyin’ it, Cooke!” He leaned toward him. “Like I said afore, yer no different than the rest of us.”
Jefferson seethed, but remained calm. To be compared to Pete and his lot was the greatest of insults. “And like I told you, Smithers, at least I care.” He watched Pete stomp down the porch steps, through the yard and down the street, the other men following.
Soon only Jefferson and the boy remained. “Right,” the boy said. “Let’s go.”
Jefferson glanced between him and the front door. “And?”
“And meet my mother, of course – what else? My name’s Colin, by the by.” He offered his hand.
Jefferson shook it, feeling suddenly numb. What had he just gotten himself into?
Chapter Four
Mother?” Colin said.
Honoria looked up and, much to her embarrassment, gasped. “Mr. Cooke …”
