Abigail dragged herself out of bed and quickly changed out of the nightclothes she was still wearing. She pulled back her hair, to make herself more presentable, then went out to speak with her mother.
“Mrs. Thomas stopped by,” Mrs. Jackson stated. Abigail was surprised to hear the news, as she hadn’t heard any noise that the matchmaker visited.
“Jeremy Porter was in to see her this morning, before he left for his trip,” her mother continued. “He told her he’s… he’s not interested in pursuing things with you.”
Abigail felt as though a huge burden had been lifted from her, a huge weight removed from her shoulders. She sighed a sigh of relief and smiled. But then she arched her eyebrow.
“He’s not interested in pursuing things with me?” she asked. Come now, she couldn’t help but be curious!
“He’s thirty-seven, you know,” Mrs. Jackson answered. “He told Mrs. Thomas he thinks you’re too young and good-looking for him to marry.”
“What?” Abigail asked with an inadvertent laugh. “He thinks I’m too young and good-looking? But Father said a man of his age would spoil a woman for her youth and beauty, not avoid her because of it.”
“Most men would,” Mrs. Jackson answered. “But some men are threatened by these things—and obviously Jeremy Porter is one of them.”
Abigail lowered her face so that her mother couldn’t see her smile. She took a moment to even out her expression, then looked up again. “You know, Mother,” she started, “perhaps it’s a good thing that things didn’t work out with Jeremy. In fact, perhaps it’s a great thing. You see, I—”
She was just about to tell her mother about Edward, when all of a sudden the front door opened, and Mr. Jackson walked in. Abigail hadn’t even realized how late it was in the day. It was already after the close of business.
After Mr. Jackson took off his coat, Mrs. Jackson greeted him with a hollow kiss on the cheek, then commenced telling him what she’d just told Abigail about her visit with Mrs. Thomas.
Mr. Jackson was upset to learn that Jeremy was not interested in his daughter, but he commended the man for exercising good reason, even if that reason ultimately worked against him.
Abigail listened to her parents talk things over a bit, and then she finally built up the courage to add to the conversation. “I’m not too upset that Jeremy was not interested in me,” she said.
Her father looked at her curiously, shocked to hear her express her opinion.
“Indeed, I’m quite happy,” she continued. “You see, when you told me that I could try to find a match myself—”
“What?” Mr. Jackson interrupted, cocking his head back. “Who told you such a thing?”
“Why you did, Father,” Abigail answered. “About a month or so, the three of us were in the living room, and we got a message from Mrs. Thomas that she was going to try to match me with older men. I said I didn’t think she would find me a good match—and you told me that if I thought I could find a better one, I could have at it.”
Mr. Jackson closed his eyes and shook his head slowly from side to side. Then he laughed.
He laughed.
“Silly child,” he said, opening his eyes again and narrowing them on his daughter. “I was being sarcastic… I didn’t sincerely mean for you to try and find yourself a match. I was joking, saying something ridiculous for impact.”
Abigail felt very warm, and her face turned as red as a beet. She was embarrassed and felt very, very foolish, and it got to the point where she could no longer contain her emotions. Just as she started to cry, she turned abruptly and ran out of the room.
“How could she have taken such an outlandish remark seriously?” Mr. Jackson asked his wife while Abigail was still within earshot.
Once Abigail was back in her bedroom, she threw herself down on her bed and continued crying. She couldn’t believe she’d taken her father’s words at face value only to have them turn out to mean nothing.
Father’s words meant nothing, she lamented. And my words meant nothing either. It doesn’t matter that Edward never got back to me. I wasn’t supposed to send him the letter to begin with. I was never really given permission to find my own match, or to live my own life.
As Abigail’s mind continued to spin, she spiraled down into depression again. She did not want to move from her bed… ever.
But alas, she did move about an hour or so later. For the second time that day, the sound of her mother’s voice roused her, and she forced herself to respond as she was expected to do.
“Just a moment,” Abigail replied when her mother knocked and announced herself at the door. She sat up in her bed and started quickly straightening herself out. But before she was done, her mother opened the door and entered.
“I brought you something to eat,” Mrs. Jackson said, nodding her head at the small tray she was carrying. “As far as I can tell, you didn’t eat anything today. So you’ve got to try to have something.”
For a split-second, Abigail’s frustrated heart felt warm and at ease. Her mother was actually acting like a mother. But then Abigail was reminded of her mother’s motivation and nature.
“We’ve got to keep you well and nourished if we’re to find you a husband,” Mrs. Jackson added, setting the tray down on the bench at the foot of Abigail’s bed.
Abigail wanted to roll her eyes, but didn’t. Instead, she directed them at the tray. She wasn’t hungry or interested in the food, she just needed somewhere to look. And when she looked at the tray, her eyes widened. “What’s that on there?” Abigail asked. She inched her body toward the bottom of her bed. There was something else on there, something that wasn’t food. It looked like… an envelope.
“Oh,” Mrs. Jackson replied. “That came for you earlier. One of the post officers delivered it this morning.”
Abigail wanted more than anything to lunge toward the tray and tear open the letter. But as usual, she practiced restraint. She sat where she was until her mother left the room and shut the door behind her, then she quickly retrieved the letter. She eyed the envelope and admired the tight, neat penmanship in which her name and address had been written. She flipped the envelope over and saw the address of the sender—E. Smith, of Laramie, Wyoming. Her heart fluttered.
She carefully opened the envelope, so as not to unnecessarily tear it, then she unfolded the letter.
Dear Abigail,
I am very happy to have received your letter. It is the sixth letter I got in response to my advertisement, but it is the first I have responded to. As I indicated in my ad, I’m not looking to get married for the sake of getting married. I want to marry someone who completes me. You are the first woman to write to me who seems to understand this and be governed by the same ideals and values. And we seem to have so much else in common. I must admit, without having even met you, I am already quite smitten.
Abigail’s cheeks felt warm and full, and so did her heart.
I would very much like to learn more about you. And I would like for you to learn more about me. But, at the same time, I understand what you said about the position you are in, how your parents are urging you to marry soon. So with that in mind, I’d like to invite you out to Laramie, so that we can meet and, if all goes as expected, court and be married.
Abigail’s heart fluttered again. Is he proposing? she wondered. If there was any doubt, she got her answer when she continued reading.
Abigail Jackson, will you do me the honor of becoming my partner? Will you become my wife and share your life with me?
Abigail’s cheeks felt full and warm again, and a few tears trickled down them. “Yes,” she said aloud, though no one was there to hear her. “Yes, Edward, I’ll marry you.”
She finished reading what was left of the letter, then read the whole thing over again. After shedding a few more tears of joy, she put the letter back in the envelope and tucked it under her pillow. Then she lay down and turned her thoughts to less joyful, more pressing matters.
I’ve got to
tell my parents about this, she reminded herself, unsure how they’d take it.
EIGHT
It was just before breakfast. Abigail could smell cured meat, biscuits, and coffee, and she could hear the sounds of footsteps and early morning conversation. Soon she’d leave her room and become a part of things too—but not just yet.
Abigail stared into the reflecting glass affixed to her dresser. She was dressed for the day and had her hair pulled back, like her parents liked it. Her face looked fresh, and her eyes were full and alert. She looked good. Now she just needed to feel good. She needed confidence to do what she was about to do.
You can do this, Abigail told herself. You have to do this.
The sounds outside of her room were getting louder, and she could distinctly hear her father talking.
Abigail took a deep breath, then turned and left her room.
When Abigail got to the dining room, she found her parents sitting at the table. They both looked at her when she entered, but neither of them really acknowledged her.
Abigail sat down at the table and looked back and forth between her parents. “Mother, Father, I’d like to talk to you,” she said.
Mr. and Mrs. Jackson looked back at her unenthusiastically.
“Last month, when you jokingly told me I could search for my own match, I took you seriously,” Abigail explained. “And I took to the task… I wrote a letter to a man who’d placed an advertisement in a mail-order-bride periodical called the Matrimonial Times—and he’s replied and asked me to marry him.”
Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Jackson said a word. They just continued to stare at their daughter for what felt like eternity.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Jackson finally asked, arching his eyebrow. He’d been reading a newspaper of his own—a much different kind than the Matrimonial Times—and he set it down gruffly.
“His name is Edward Smith,” Abigail went on. “He’s twenty-five and is a rancher in Laramie, Wyoming. We have a great deal in common, and we both—”
“A rancher?” Mr. Jackson interjected. “A twenty-five-year-old rancher?” He’d gone from being disinterested to aggravated, and Abigail did not like the change.
“You expect us to allow you to marry a rancher?” Mr. Jackson pushed on. “Have you lost your mind, girl? I am a banker, your mother’s father was a lawyer, and mine was an early investor in the railroads. You hail from a family of powerful, prestigious, professional men. You can’t marry a rancher!
“And he’s twenty-five to boot! You know what that means, don’t you? He’s young, so he can’t have extensive holdings. He’s likely fresh in the business, which means he’s poor—which means you’d be poor. Is that what you want for yourself? You want to live in some shack in Wyoming, eating stale bread and boiled potatoes?
“Fat chance I’ll let any of that happen.”
Right then, the maid brought in breakfast. She set the plates down in front of the Jacksons, starting with the head of the household.
Mr. Jackson looked down at his food and picked up his fork to begin eating. As far as he was concerned, he was done with this ridiculous conversation.
But Abigail wasn’t done. She’d barely slept at all the night before, but she’d used her waking hours wisely. She’d thought out what she wanted to say to her parents, as well as what they might say to her, and how she’d respond to it.
“My brothers are successful businessmen,” she said. “With them, our family name and legacy will live on well into the future… You don’t need me to perpetuate your business—and what’s more, business is not in my nature. As you know, I’m fond of simpler things. I like animals and the outdoors. I’m different than the two of you and my brothers.
“So why not let me live the life that makes me happy? Life on a ranch out west—whether in a mansion or a shack—may not appeal to you, but it does to me. And Edward is more suited for me than any man Mrs. Thomas could ever find. He shares my values and interests.
“Let me go to Laramie to marry him. Let me be happy.”
Mr. Jackson took a deep breath, then sighed as he stabbed his fork into a piece of sausage. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. He drew the piece of meat to his mouth and took a bite. Then after he was done chewing, he swallowed and turned to his wife. “Did you hear that Albert Black is retiring?” he asked her. “I hear he’ll be hanging up his hat come January—which means his clients will be looking for someone else to manage their accounts.”
Mrs. Jackson smiled and proceeded with the conversation, and Abigail bowed her head in disappointment. She’d spent all night and morning planning this big talk, and now, within a matter of minutes, it was over. She stared down at the food in front of her and wished she was looking at stale bread and boiled potatoes.
NINE
Abigail sat with her face buried behind a book. It was the travel book she’d gotten with her mother that afternoon in town before they’d met with Mrs. Thomas, and she’d read it at least twenty times by now. She practically had it memorized at this point. But still she kept her eyes locked on the pages, to keep them, and her mind, busy.
The particular story she was reading was about a man who’d traveled through the mountains of Pennsylvania, and as Abigail read about the long hikes he took, she wanted more than anything to stretch her own legs. But there simply wasn’t enough space for her to do so.
She continued to read on and got to another story, one written by a woman who’d visited Paris, France. In addition to writing about the sights she saw, she also wrote about the area’s wonderful foods, namely pastries, and Abigail’s mouth watered at the thought of something so tasty.
As Abigail got to the end of the tempting story, she heard a noise. “God bless you,” she said to the woman beside her, who’d just sneezed.
I hope I don’t catch what she’s got, Abigail said to herself, scooting over a little.
Indeed, that was one of the most troublesome things about train travel. The quarters were so cramped that it sometimes felt like the passengers were sitting right on top of each other, and whatever problems they had—such as sickness or bad tempers—seemed to spread like wildfire among them.
That’s right, Abigail was on a train. She’d been riding the rails for two weeks, in fact. She’d managed not to catch a cold yet, and she hoped she’d beat the odds and make it to Wyoming unscathed.
Now as to how Abigail got on the train, that’s an interesting albeit simple story. Her father had made it abundantly clear that he would not allow her to go off to Wyoming to marry Edward. But she decided after much thought to go ahead and do it anyhow… without his permission. She wanted so much to live the life that she envisioned living with Edward that she took matters into her own hands and defied her father. She ran away in the middle of the night a few nights after their discussion.
Abigail knew what she was giving up and leaving behind. But she also knew what she was getting out of her decision. Even if she had to do without the luxuries she was used to, even if she had to struggle, she’d be sharing her life with someone who understood her and cared about the same things. Whatever she was giving up, it was a small price to pay.
When the train finally arrived in Wyoming, Abigail was relieved that her journey would be over soon, and she was excited, to say the least, at the prospect of finally meeting Edward. The day before she ran away, she’d sent him a wire letting him know she’d be out on the next train. So she was sure he knew that she was coming, which only further fueled her excitement. As the train pulled into the station at Laramie, she eagerly eyed the platform as she expected Edward to be there waiting for her.
And sure enough, Edward was there, waiting on the platform. In fact, he’d been waiting there for two hours. He’d arrived early out of his own extreme eagerness, which mounted as the train slowed to a stop in front of him.
She’s here, Edward thought to himself. She’s finally here. He eyed the locomotive door closely and watched as passengers stepped out of it.
About a dozen or so peo
ple had stepped off, and Edward’s heart skipped a beat when the next did. He could tell, just by looking at her, that the young woman was Abigail—and he could tell he was going to spend the rest of his life loving her.
She was beautiful and refined and was dressed in nice clothing that’d held up well throughout her travels. But these weren’t the things that made Edward recognize her, or what impressed him. He knew her by the smile on her face and the kindness in her eyes. Yes, yes, he told himself. That’s my Abigail.
At the same time Edward took notice of Abigail, she took notice of him. It seemed her eyes were drawn to him. There were well over fifty or sixty other people on the platform, but of all of them, she saw only Edward. In her mind, it was as if the two of them were the only people there.
“Abigail!” Edward exclaimed. He rushed toward her and stopped just short.
In his heart, he wanted to embrace her, but he did not want to frighten her or break social convention.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he smiled.
Abigail’s eyes locked with his, and she felt a tickling in her tummy that told her she’d made the right decision to come to Wyoming. “I’m glad to be here,” she replied. She was grinning from ear to ear, though she didn’t even realize it.
As Edward stared back at her, he too felt as though the two of them were the only people on the platform. It was as if no one else existed. “I was surprised to get your telegraph and didn’t expect you here so soon,” Edward admitted. “But, wow, let me just say again: I’m so glad you’re here.”
Abigail couldn’t help but giggle, and she bowed her head bashfully. But no sooner than she did, she missed gazing into Edward’s eyes and felt drawn to look up at him again.
Edward felt short of breath and unable to reduce his racing thoughts into sentences. All he could do was stare at Abigail. He felt so happy to have her there with him. He was so excited about what lay ahead.
New Beginnings Spring 20 Book Box Set Page 63
