by Vivi Holt
She hadn’t been certain about going through with the marriage at first, but the more she thought about it, the more she knew it was her best option. She had no money and no way to get her hands on any for several months. The Pokes had been kind to put her up for so long, but she couldn’t impose on their hospitality any longer. It was time for her to move on, and marrying Mr. Taylor seemed the only viable option.
The following week, Christy was in her room packing her bags. She held her cherished stuffed bear to her cheek a moment, then shoved it into the trunk. It was time to leave for Newton and she was nervous, tapping her foot while she packed.
Meredith walked in greeted her with a smile, carrying a pile of clothing. She laid it down on the bed beside Christy. “Here you go, my dear. I know they’re not much, but these ought to get you by for a little while in your new place.”
Christy still had the luggage she had brought with her from Philadelphia, but it was mostly gowns and fancier items. These work clothes would give her enough to last a good while in her new home. “Thank you, Meredith.” Her throat tightened with emotion as she considered all the kindly woman had done for her.
“Don’t mention it, my dear. They belonged to my daughters, and now they’ll find a good second home with you. I know you’ll look after them. Now let’s get you down to the station.”
Morty came in and helped carry Christy’s luggage out to the waiting wagon, where they loaded everything and climbed up onto the bench seat. The drive to the station was quiet as each of them contemplated what lay ahead. Christy felt the tension travel from the pit of her stomach up her back, causing her neck to stiffen.
“I do hope we won’t be late,” said Meredith, holding tightly to the rattling wagon seat.
They made it in time, but the loud whistle of the train gave Christy a jolt. Meredith uttered a prayer of thanks. They hurried to get Christy’s luggage to the brakeman, who loaded it on board. Then she turned to face the couple. “Thank you for everything,” she said, grasping the older woman’s hands in hers. “I shall never forget the kindness you showed me at the worst moment of my life.”
Meredith wiped away the tears spilling down her face as Morty waved goodbye.
Christy stepped onto the train and took a deep breath to steel herself for the journey ahead. It was her first time on a train since the robbery. She sat in the first compartment she found as her legs were threatening to give way beneath her. On the platform, she saw Meredith and Morty and waved again, her heart heavy with the sorrow of bidding goodbye to the couple she’d grown so fond of. She prayed she could reward their faith in her and do them proud in such a tough world.
9
Most days, Brent would have been tending to the daily business of running his farm. But the 29th of July was different – it was for quiet solitude. On that day every year, Brent took a break from the work that would normally consume his waking hours and spent time alone, remembering the past and thinking about what might have been.
He led his horse to the empty field behind the ranch house and tied it to a fence post, then took off his broad-brimmed black riding hat and placed it against his chest. A moment’s silence to remember Annabelle. In previous years, he would have done this in the place where she’d died, his gaze sweeping across the pasture where the thunderstorm hit, the rocks where she fell to her death.
Now he was in a new place, a new field, but the dull thud of her head hitting the ground still resounded in his ears. He closed his eyes and paid his respects one last time. Tomorrow he would will himself to move on, to leave his pain and his tragedy behind. He would begin a new life with his new bride and finally walk away from the past.
He hoped.
The cry of crows in the distance and the occasional low of his neighbors’ cattle were the only sounds that broke the silence. Brent gazed around at the bowing heads of seeded corn swaying to nature’s rhythm in the wind blowing across the open field. The brilliant sunshine made him squint against its brightness. He closed his eyes and soaked it all in, allowing himself a final moment of heartache as he remembered the love he’d lost.
The moment was disturbed by Kip shrilly calling his name. “Mr. Taylor, sir! Where you been?”
Brent drew in a deep breath. “What are you doing here, Kip? I told you I was unavailable today. I asked you to take care of things for me and not come looking for me.”
Kip stopped in his tracks, suddenly remembering his boss’s request. “Aw shucks, I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor. I forgot all about it.” Guilt washed over the young boy’s face. “But one of the hens seems awful sick.”
“You’re more than capable of handling that yourself, Kip.”
Kip hung his head. “I know, but … can’t you just come take a look?”
Brent turned away, his jaw clenched. He didn’t like to have to admonish Kip, and on any other day he would have been more than happy to help. But today was the last day he’d set aside to remember Annabelle and honor her memory. He was more than a bit anxious about meeting his new bride tomorrow, and needed the time to prepare himself, to be sure he was doing the right thing.
“Brent, is anything wrong?” Kip waited anxiously for an answer.
“Three years today, Kip. Three years today that Annabelle had her accident.”
The boy’s face turned ashen – Brent had told him and his father about that. “Sorry, Mr. Taylor. I didn’t remember that neither.”
Brent sighed. “It’s alright, Kip. Come on – you’d better show me that calf.”
The following morning, Brent awoke early after just a few hours’ sleep. Even without dealing with that hen the day before, he would have had trouble sleeping. Today was the day he was meeting, and marrying, Christy Hancock of Philadelphia (by way of Topeka). Once again, he wondered what she would be like – and whether he was doing the right thing.
Everything within him shied away from marrying a woman he’d never met. But that was just the trouble – he’d never met another woman he wanted to marry. And out here, he never would. The only people he saw these days were his married neighbors and their children, the elderly folks and young families that attended the Baptist church on the outskirts of Newton, the men at the feed supply store, and the occasional Cherokee or Arapahoe family warily skirting the encroaching whites like himself. Single young women here were rarer than diamonds. It made sense for him to have a mail-order bride.
But the whole idea of it still made him so nervous, his stomach did flips as he dressed.
He pulled on his best shirt and tie, noticing for the first time how dingy they were in the light. He tried to rub a clean spot on the dusty mirror he’d cadged from his late mother’s bedroom, but it didn’t help the way he felt. His pants needed mending and his boots should have been cleaned long ago. Too late for that now. He had to hope she wouldn’t mind how raggedy he looked.
He tramped outside to attach his wagon to Patty. The bay horse wasn’t young anymore but was still a little flighty, with a sensitive mouth. He was strong, though, and a keen driving horse. He climbed into the wagon and waved goodbye to Kip. For the second day in a row he was trusting the farm to his young farmhand. “Take care,” he called, then clucked Patty into a trot.
As he turned onto the main road and left the boundary of his property, Brent passed the field where the day before he’d gone to remember. Three years and one day. It was time to move on. And with God’s help, he would do just that.
The Rock Island Line train arrived in Newton just after lunch, and Christy walked to the exit with shaky legs. For a moment her hand lingered on the door frame, a part of her wanting to stay inside the safety of the carriage. But then the whistle blew and the person behind Christy nudged her onto the platform.
Anxious, it took a few moments to get her footing as she strained to pick Brent out of the crowd. She knew to look for a man carrying a bunch of daisies, but she couldn’t see anyone fitting that description. Her stomach was in knots - she was terrified that the man she was there to meet mi
ght be mean or even ugly. She knew she ought not to think such things, that she should want a man who was kind and responsible no matter what he looked like. But she couldn’t quell her fears that she would be repulsed by him or forced to live with a man she couldn’t abide.
But as she finally caught sight of Brent Taylor, she knew she had nothing to worry about. There he was at the end of the platform, a few wilted daisies in his hands and a look of curiosity on his face. She smiled at him and waved, and he returned the smile, tipping his hat.
She watched him stride toward her on the platform, averting her eyes every time he caught them. He’s to be the first man I ever kiss … but will I love him? She gazed at his full lips, imagining what it would be like to press hers against them. Would they kiss at the wedding? She was still hoping for a romantic white wedding with all of the trimmings, but glancing around at the dusty town, she considered that a bit far-fetched.
She certainly couldn’t have asked for a more handsome groom, though. His tanned features were accentuated by sparkling blue eyes, and his muscular physique wasn’t hidden by the gray morning coat and pants, blue button-down shirt and … was that a silk cravat? She didn’t expect her future husband to show up in such finery – but then, he wasn’t a native to the West any more than she was. Apparently she had still been daydreaming of cowboys in leather chaps. But Brent Taylor was, from all appearances, a gentleman.
Christy’s heart fluttered as he drew near, realizing that God really had provided for her – not just a husband, but one that would understand both her trials and her Eastern upbringing. Still, she wondered how she’d even speak to him, let alone kiss him. His eyes seemed to bore into her soul as though he could see and understand her every thought. She shivered with delight and nervousness.
10
Brent was taken aback by how lovely Christy Hancock was in person. The photo the agency had sent him right after they made the match didn’t do justice to her shining red hair piled high in large curls on top of her head, nor her striking green eyes, nor her peaches-and-cream complexion, nor her curvaceous figure. He swallowed nervously as he dipped his hat and made his way to her, his legs trembling as he walked.
When he reached her side, he wanted more than anything to scoop her up into his arms and kiss her full red lips. He figured on settling for a polite peck on the cheek, but now that he was close enough to see the frightened look in her eyes, he realized with a sinking stomach that even that might be too much for her just yet.
Her jaw clenched and she coughed anxiously before she finally got the nerve to whisper a quiet “hello.”
Brent reached out and took her shaking hand. “Miss Hancock,” he said, trying to keep his voice as warm and welcoming as possible. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I have been looking forward to it.” Miss Hancock nodded. It was clear to him she was having great difficulty. “I have somewhere for us to clean up before the ceremony. So we can look tidy.”
Miss Hancock dropped her head, and Brent mentally kicked himself. Look tidy?!? No doubt she wanted to look more than “tidy” on her wedding day ― she probably wanted to wear a long white gown trimmed in frilly, expensive lace. But she was going to have to make do with the clothes she was wearing. Not one minute in, and he’d already put his foot in his mouth.
Now to see if he could make up for it. “I think you look very pretty, Miss Hancock.”
That seemed to help. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor. Um … you look very nice too.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Okay, that was better. “Well, shall we?” He offered her his arm. She took it and they headed to his wagon. An enterprising porter had loaded her trunk and bags onto a cart, and followed behind.
Only once the wagon was loaded and the porter departed did she speak again. “What … what shall we be doing now?”
“Well, of course the first stop is the courthouse, to be married,” Brent replied. “We’ll need to get back to the farm before evening, since I left my farmhand Kip in charge for the day.”
Miss Hancock nodded, and her face fell. Brent cringed, wondering how he’d blown it this time. Not arranging a church wedding? Not booking a night in town for their honeymoon? This was an Eastern lady, after all – she had expectations, and he hadn’t even considered them. She probably never imagined her marriage would be conducted in such haste – just arrived in Newton and already being whisked away to her wedding ceremony. Brent, you fool! he scolded himself.
But she summoned her courage quickly. “All right,” she said, if a little stiffly. “Let’s go.” And even if it wasn’t enthusiastic, the sound of her voice cheered him.
Newton itself was a quaint hamlet, with the unfinished look one would expect from a boomtown a few months old. It was dusty and lined with raw timber storefronts and buildings. Wagons pulled by sturdy horses bounced up and down the streets and folks stood on street corners and in doorways chatting with their neighbors. The county courthouse was a squat wooden building, whitewashed to help it stand out. Brent helped Miss Hancock down and led her up the path to the front door.
But when they reached it, she took a step backward and almost tripped down the courthouse steps. She shook her head. “No,” she murmured.
“What’s the matter, Miss Hancock?” Brent asked, turning to look at her.
“Mr. Taylor … aren’t we going to be married by a minister? At your church?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid the preacher is out of town today. He’s over at the Blacks’ farm since Sarah Black just had her fifth baby and she’s not faring well. So we need to make do with what we have.”
“But it’s important to me that we’re married with a minster present.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I did ask him, but as I said, he was called away.”
“Can we wait – until he gets back to town?” Panic was creeping into her voice.
“I wish we could, ma’am, but I have to get back to my farm. It doesn’t run without me. And I can’t take you back to the farm with me unless we’re married, can I? Besides, there’s really no place for us to stay in town – there’s no hotel, just a working men’s boarding house. Let’s just get married today – it doesn’t matter who does the marrying so long as it’s done. Then we can head on home and take care of things there.” He sounded a little panicked himself, come to think – as though he was afraid she’d run away. Maybe he was.
Miss Hancock stood outside the courthouse doors, stricken with indecision. She didn’t seem to want to cause a fuss, but it was clear she was disappointed – and scared.
Brent’s voice was pleading. “Please come inside, Miss Hancock. Judge Hanley will do fine by us, I promise. Even with only a judge, it will be a marriage as good as any in the eyes of God and the law.”
Finally, she nodded. Unsure what else he could do, Brent opened the door and led her inside.
Judge Hanley was a balding, fat man with a rough manner and little patience. He frowned at them as he recited the vows for them to repeat. Soon they were done and he declared them man and wife in the eyes of God, with the court clerk as their witness. The ceremony was over in minutes.
After three years’ delay, Brent was finally married. He smiled – until he looked at his downcast new bride. He knew he had to find a way to put a smile on her beautiful face.
11
They walked down the courthouse stairs in silence, the distance between them seeming to grow with each step. Christy’s eyes welled up and she had to turn away so that Mr. Taylor – Brent – wouldn’t see her cry. This is nothing like how I imagined it would be, she thought. No guests, no flowers, no grand ceremony, no white dress, no lavish spread of food to share with family and friends. Not even a kiss.
And worst of all, no parents by her side. Despite her best efforts to conceal her tears, her chest began to heave.
“Miss, er, Christy?” Brent said, laying a gentle hand on her arm. “I know the ceremony wasn’t everything you might have hoped for. I’m very sorry.”
She stra
ightened, shaking her head as she sobbed. “It’s not that. I just miss Mam and Daddy terribly. I miss them every day, but most of all at a time like this …” She began to weep again.
But her new husband truly was a gentleman. He put his arms around her, stroking her hair as he let her cry. And when she finally stopped, he gave her a chaste squeeze and stepped back to look her in the eye. “What happened to them, and to you, was awful,” he said gently. “No one should have to see their parents die like that. It’s a horrible thing for anyone to live through. And I promise, I will do whatever I can to make your life a happy one, and help you heal from what happened.”
For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Finally she managed to choke out a “thank you.”
Her new husband smiled and nodded. “Let’s be getting home. You’ve had a long day – perhaps you’ll feel better once you’ve had a rest.”
Back in the wagon, though, Christy couldn’t rest. She shifted uncomfortably on the rough seat as she tried to devise something to say to the stranger sitting beside her. Well, there was always the weather. “It’s very warm out. Quite different from Philadelphia.”
Brent nodded. “It’s drier, though, I imagine.”
“Yes, it is.” What have I gotten myself into? She sat stiffly, her hands pressed tightly together in her lap.
“I apologize if I seem a bit tired,” Brent said. “I had to stay up late last night. With a sick hen,” he added with a chuckle.
“Is she better now?” she asked.
He nodded. “Thankfully, she seems to be. I’m more used to taking care of horses – I didn’t think a hen would be so much work.”
She snuck a glimpse at the man sitting next to her. He did seem happy when he first saw me. He smiled at me, and it lit me all up inside. But now he’s nervous. Huh. Maybe it’s not just me – maybe we both have trouble getting used to this. Strangely, that gave her hope. She wasn’t alone in this.
