The Shotgun Proposal

by Barbara Goss

  He repeated, “Elsa,” then said something that sounded like he might like the name, but she wasn’t sure.

  He made a motion for her to follow him. She became a bit frightened when he led her to the front door of his home and through the house to the kitchen where a woman was cooking over a stove. He spoke to the woman and when she turned toward her, Rance said some words to the woman, and then pointed and said, “Elsa.”

  The woman smiled and replied in German, “My name is Clara, and I speak German.”

  Elsa smiled and said, “I’m happy that you speak German.”

  Clara nodded and then turned to Rance. “Yes, I’ll give her some tea while she waits for her father.”

  “You can speak German?” he asked in surprise.

  “I can. Although her dialect is a bit different—it’s similar to the language difference in England where some speak cockney and some proper English. I understand some words, but others I cannot. Some words are distorted by their Russian influence, I guess, but I’ll do my best.”

  Elsa got the feeling t Rance was about to leave her with Clara. Should she faint now? It was her only chance, but she just couldn’t do it. She had no choice but to let Rance walk back outside. He did turn and wave with another polite smile before he left, though.

  Clara set a steaming cup of tea before her and Elsa sat down and reached for the cream and sugar. Could this woman be his housekeeper? Maybe she was his mother? No, not his mother, because Rance seemed surprised she had spoken German. She must be his housekeeper.

  The two women made small talk in German. Clara seemed able to pick out enough words from her conversation to answer, and Elsa could do the same. They used small sentences along with gestures, and it seemed to work for them. After a while, Clara caught on to the differences in the German and was able to follow quite well.

  Elsa stood as soon as her father came storming in. She could tell he was about to speak harshly to her, scolding her for not being out there flirting with the man. She quickly put her finger to her lips while Clara was behind her, and said to her father, “Clara,” she pointed, “speaks German.”

  A dawning look appeared on her father’s face. He smiled and nodded at Clara. “Come along, then, daughter.” He looked at Clara and said, “Thank you.”

  As soon as they were outside he pulled her roughly toward the wagon and scolded her loudly. “You’re supposed to be attracting the owner. Why were you inside?” He slammed her back against the side of the wagon.

  She cast her eyes down as she’d been taught to do when her father ranted, but as she did, she spotted Rance standing by the barn, frowning. She could tell he was displeased by her father’s treatment of her. An idea struck her, and she turned so that her back was to Rance. She purposely talked back to her father knowing what the result would be.

  “He took me to his housekeeper. What was I supposed to do? You expect too much of me,” she said between her teeth. She knew Rance wouldn’t see or hear what she’d said to her father.

  Her father slapped her face twice, once on each side, and pushed her against the wagon.

  “You’re useless!” he yelled. “I ask one thing of you in twenty years and you can’t obey?” He turned his back on her and walked to the driver’s perch.

  Henry ran to assist Elsa up onto the driver’s bench before hopping into the back of the wagon.

  Rance clenched his fists at his sides. How dare that man treat his daughter like that. What could she have possibly done to deserve such barbaric treatment? Then he shrugged and reasoned that because it was a different culture, it might be normal behavior. He just wished he didn’t have to look at it. Next time he’d be tempted to punch the oaf, and then that huge monster of a man would probably beat him to a pulp. He supposed if he were in that situation again, he would tell the man to discipline his daughter on his own land, and not on his. He’d heard from the Polish tailor in Hays that European fathers were strict, but he never imagined they could be that cruel.

  The sight he’d witnessed stuck with him all day, as did his problem of being lonely. As long as his father was alive he’d never felt lonely. Though Rance had gone to a few barn dances, he’d never courted anyone. He’d kissed a few females behind the barn during some of the dances, but that’s as far as it ever went. Now, with his father gone, and all his friends paired up, he felt lonely.

  He thought about his friends. Travis had Evaline, Ned had Maria, and even Ham Williams was betrothed to a mail order bride from Georgia. Wade Sommers was the only friend he had left that was still single. Did he even want to get married? He’d asked himself that so many times since his father had died. He guessed he did, because he yearned for a partner for life. He just had to find the right companion.

  He hadn’t felt that alone since he’d gotten a housekeeper who lived with him. His brother, Peter, was still single, but had moved to Kansas City when a saloon woman had accused him of fathering her baby. When Peter returned home for their father’s funeral, he’d said he was nearly betrothed to a young women in Kansas City. Peter swore he’d nothing to do with the saloon woman, and that she’d only pointed her finger at him for his money. Their father had left Peter a good sum of money and had left Rance the ranch because he knew he’d continue with it. Peter had always been a bit on the wild side, and his father never completely trusted him. Peter was more than satisfied with his part of the inheritance, yet it put Rance on a tight budget until his first auction. He also had two older sisters who’d married well. One lived in Texas, the other in Missouri.

  That evening, after a delicious dinner—one of many that Clara had cooked—he sat on the front porch with his coffee. He loved looking out over the property that was now his, although he’d have given anything to have his father back with him.

  He watched Manny, one of his many stable hands, trying to train a horse in the corral. All the horses had to be saddle-broken when they were old enough, before they could be sold. It was a big job, when there were perhaps twenty each year that needed to be trained. He wondered what Manny was doing, working so late.

  When he finished his coffee he set the cup down on the porch railing and walked over to the corral. Manny walked the horse over to where Rance was leaning on the fence.

  “Why aren’t you home eating supper?” Rance asked.

  “This one,” he petted the horse’s mane, “was so close to letting me saddle her that I had to stay a bit longer. I don’t expect any overtime—I did it because I wanted to. Besides, I’ve no one to go home to, anyway.”

  Rance could relate to that. In fact, it gave him an idea. “You’ll get the pay, Manny, because I’ve just made you a foreman. That means no more hourly wage; you’ll get a salary. Come to my office tomorrow morning and we’ll work out your schedule and duties.”

  Manny just stared at him with a stunned expression. “I don’t know what to say, but thank you.”

  “You might not think it’s such a great job when I tell you what it entails. You’ll have twenty men to supervise—that’s four men per stable. Think you can handle it?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.” Thank you, again,” Manny said.

  “Now, go home,” Rance laughed. Maybe now, he’d have time for more barn dances and socializing.

  He’d just about gotten back to the porch when a rider—whom he recognized as Wade—approached. He waved.

  “Hey, stranger. What have you been up to?” Rance asked. “Haven’t seen you in weeks.”

  Wade slid off his horse and walked up to Rance. “I’ve been too busy writing letters to pay a visit.”

  “Letters?”

  “I’m going to get myself a mail order bride. Fifteen women answered my ad, but I’ve narrowed my choices down to three. I’ve been writing to each of them and trying to pick the one I want. I’ve come to ask if you’d like one of them.”

  Rance scratched his head. “How do you know what they look like?”

  “Some of them send pictures and some describe themselves.”

  R
ance, remembering his loneliness, nearly agreed to his offer, but then thought better of it. He wanted to get to know a woman before he brought her to Hays for marriage. How can you get to know someone by mail?

  “It would be just my luck to get a horse-faced, old biddy,” Rance said.

  Wade shrugged. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

  “I will, and I’ll give it more thought.”

  Wade mounted his horse. “I need to mail my letters before the post office closes. See ya later,” he called, as he rode off.

  Lying in bed that night, Rance thought about Wade’s mail order brides offer. He did need someone, but he wanted to meet her first. Still, it worked for so many men he knew.

  He thought about how he’d given his life to the Lord a few years ago, and how it had changed his life. What if his mail order bride wasn’t a believer? He’d had his eye on a widow from church who was maybe a few years older than he, and she had two small children. He'd already stopped to chat with her a few times. She was attractive enough, but while he wanted children, he wasn’t sure he could be a good father to someone else’s. He decided to keep the idea of a relationship with the widow on the back burner.

  He thought about having to deliver the horse to Ernst Schuster. At first, he thought to send Manny, but Ernst had promised him the other half of the money, so he thought it best if he delivered the horse in person. Any man who’d beat his daughter like that couldn’t be trusted. He hoped the man treated his horses better than he’d treated his daughter.

  At breakfast, Rance asked Clara what she thought of Elsa.

  “She seems like a sweet young lady,” Clara said. “From the bit of conversation, I gathered she has four sisters, no brothers, and a mother at home. Why do you ask?”

  “Once she was out of the house, her father pulled her roughly, yelling at her, and slapped her face twice,” Rance said. “That bothers me.”

  “Oh, dear. No wonder she’s so timid. The poor girl!”

  Rance arrived in Victoria, pulling the thoroughbred Schuster had purchased behind him. He’s been told to look for a white house with a gray barn. When he’d found it, he dismounted, tied the horses, and walked to the door of the house. As he lifted his hand to knock, the door swung open. Another meek woman, dressed similarly to, Elsa opened the door. She was older, but still pretty. Rance decided it must be Elsa’s mother.

  She didn’t speak but motioned him in. She called to someone in her language and Ernst appeared within seconds. “Ahh,” he said. He put his finger up to show Rance that he should wait, then went out the front door and ran down the street.

  Rance looked to the woman for an explanation, but of course, she couldn’t speak English. She made the same wait gesture as her husband had.

  Henry burst into the house with Ernst, greeted Rance, and said, “Ernst would like to conduct his business in the study. While he goes upstairs to get his money, he’d like you to wait there for him. I’ll escort you.”

  Henry walked down the hall and pointed to a closed door. “You go in and make yourself comfortable while I wait for Ernst to get his money.”

  Rance opened the door and sat on the sofa. He jumped a bit when he noticed someone move behind the desk. It was Elsa, dressed in her nightgown and robe. He stood immediately and made for the door. He knew he shouldn’t be in the room alone and with a partially clad woman.

  With his hand on the doorknob, he heard a moan and spun around to see the woman had fainted. Rance stared at her, but she didn’t move. Should he help her? Should he leave and call for help? He decided on the latter, opened the door and called for help.

  “Help! Someone come quickly! Elsa has fainted,” he yelled, but no one came. Rance didn’t know quite what to do.

  “Henry!” he called. “Ernst!” Still no one came. He looked back at the girl, lying unmoving on the office floor.

  As he stood at the door unsure of what to do, the girl moaned again and put her hand out.

  “Hilfe!” she said in a near whisper.

  Rance didn’t know German but that sure sounded like a cry for help.

  He went to her and pulled her to her feet. She clung to him with her arms around his waist as he tried to calm her by rubbing her back, tenderly.

  Before he had time to do anything, Ernst and Henry walked in. Ernst started yelling in his language, while Rance tried prying her hands from around his waist.

  Ernst walked over and removed his shotgun from where it hung on the wall.

  Henry said, “Ernst said you must marry Elsa or she’d be ruined in the community.”

  “I just helped her to her feet after she fainted,” Rance said, “nothing more.”

  Ernst continued to yell, waving the shotgun at Rance. Elsa began to cry.

  Now, what was he to do?

  He turned to Henry and said, “You were the only one outside of family to see this, so why would her name be ruined in the community?”

  Henry shrugged. “Word spreads quickly—servants gossip and all.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Rance said. “I’m not getting married. She can’t even speak my language!”

  Henry shrugged and looked at the shotgun aimed at Rance.

  Rance turned to look at Elsa. Her father was shaking her shoulder with one hand, screaming at her in German while still aiming his shotgun at Rance with the other hand. When he released her shoulder and raised his hand to slap her, Rance grabbed his arm and held it.

  Ernst stared at him and began shouting at him in his language.

  Rance dropped Ernst’s arm and stood in front of Elsa. “Henry, tell him to stop abusing his daughter or he and I can talk about this with our fists outside.” Although he talked big, he hoped Ernst wouldn’t take him up on it. Rance wasn’t sure he could take him, but he’d give it his best try.

  Henry spoke to Ernst and calmed him down a bit. Then Ernst spoke to Henry.

  Henry turned to Rance. “You will take her with you. He says she is now your responsibility.”

  Rance turned and gazed at the woman. She was pale and he thought she might faint again. When she started to go down, he caught her once again. This time she didn’t cling to him but fell against him, out cold. He lowered her to the floor and knelt next to her, rubbing her hand.

  Ernst and Henry babbled in their language while he tried to revive Elsa. When she opened her eyes, he noticed they were a bright green. Her kerchief had fallen off and her long ebony hair curled around her shoulders. She sat up, and when she looked at her father’s angry face, she clung to Rance’s hands.

  Rance removed his hands and stood. He faced Henry. “I’ll marry the girl, but not because I laid a hand on her, but to get her out of this man’s reach. He will not be allowed on my property. Tell him that and make sure he understands perfectly.”

  Chapter 3

  Reverend Chapman, the new minister at Rance’s church, conducted the ceremony with Wade and Mrs. Chapman as witnesses.

  Was he making the biggest mistake of his life marrying a woman to whom he couldn’t speak, and whom he didn’t love? What, besides sympathy, had made him offer to marry her? She was comely enough, but he knew he’d fallen into a devious trap. Had her father treated her decently, Rance would never have agreed to marry her. By slapping her around, Ernst had made him angry enough to do something impulsive, but once he’d offered to marry her there was no way he could take it back. He’d have to marry her, even though he recognized it had all been a setup. No wonder Ernst had been scrutinizing his property earlier. Could Elsa have been involved in the plot? If she had, he was sure it would have been out of fear.

  He was lonely and needed a wife, but he had a nagging suspicion he was making a huge mistake. He looked down at her just as she looked up at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears, and she smiled. He realized he’d saved her from many beatings in the future, and he could see she was happy with the arrangement. He vowed to make the best of it.

  They were pronounced man and wife and the minister said he could kiss
the bride. He brushed a quick kiss on her cheek.

  As they drove home in silence—as usual—he laughed to himself. Here he was, married and yet still alone.

  He took his eyes off the road for a moment to cast a glance her way and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. Now, why would she be crying? He'd saved her from a horrible father, married her, and instead of being happy, she was crying. He sighed, stopped the buggy, and He tapped her on the shoulder. When she looked at him he gave her a shrug to indicate he didn’t know what was wrong.

  Elsa gestured his concern away with a wave of her hand and a tearful smile. He supposed it meant nothing was wrong. Maybe they were tears of relief? He knew then and there the marriage was bound to be full of frustration for them both. He urged the horses on with the dreaded feeling he’d put himself in an incredibly insufferable situation—for the rest of his life! He could no longer look for the wife of his choosing, the chance to fall in love, the opportunity to propose to someone who would own his heart.

  The day he’d offered to marry her, he’d taken her home and put her in the care of Clara who'd given her one of the spare rooms and dressed her for their wedding day. Elsa wore a green frock he thought might have been one of Clara’s that she’d quickly altered to fit Elsa. Without the drab dress and kerchief, Elsa looked quite pretty. Her hair was pitch black and shiny and her skin was light; and the contrast was remarkable. The green dress made her eyes look like emeralds, shiny with tears. He’d never have to be ashamed to be seen in public with her, but he would be ashamed to take her anywhere since she couldn’t speak English. He sighed again.

  He turned the buggy into the yard of his house and Manny ran out to congratulate him and take care of his buggy. Rance helped Elsa down and escorted her into the house. He looked for Clara, but she’d made herself scarce‒though a complete dinner had been set out on the table, Clara was nowhere in sight.