Mail Order Bride--Latham's new wife Page 4

  Annis rubbed her stomach and smoothed her hair back.

  “I think we ought to talk to Denny first.”

  “We can talk to ‘im, darlin’, but me mind is made up.” Sorcha kneeled down on the floor in front of her sister. Taking both her hands in her own she held them to her cheek. “Denholm is right. I’ve got to learn how to take care of myself.”

  “But, you’ve never been all alone. And neither have I.” She began to cry.

  “Then maybe it is something we both need to do. Besides, you won’t be alone, Annis. Denholm would walk through a fire naked for ya. You know he would.”

  “But what about you? Whose going to look out for you?”

  Sorcha scooped up the little gray kitten that purred happily to be back in her mistress’s arms.

  “I won’t be alone either.”

  Both sisters cried and laughed together before beginning their letter to Mr. Latham Teeds.

  Chapter 3

  It wasn’t long before Sorcha received a response to her letter from the farmer in Montana. She sat at the table she, Annis and Denholm shared their meals at while Annis sat in a rocking chair, her feet propped up on a log of wood and a pillow behind her back.

  Sorcha read aloud.

  Dear Miss Breck,

  Your letter has been received with much enthusiasm. Please make your way to Rocky Creek, Montana. I have included fare for you to secure transport.

  I would have come to meet you in person but my associate has borrowed my wagon and horse for a trip deep into the mountains for some prospecting and isn’t due back for a spell.

  Thank you.

  Latham Teeds

  She smiled crookedly.

  “Well, he ain’t much for courtin’.” Annis looked sadly at her sister. Her belly had gotten bigger and when she wasn’t crying she was eating.

  “Taint no time fer courtin’, Annis. This is a wealth of money he sent. I can travel first class.”

  “Are you really thinkin’ of riding the iron horse all the way?”

  “Well, I don’t think a train will take me right to Rocky Creek. But I’ll get pretty far before I hitch up with a wagon train.”

  “What about injuns? Ain’t you scared of the savages?”

  Sorcha rolled her eyes at her sister. Those stories were exaggerated, she insisted in an attempt to sooth her emotional sister’s fears. But deep down Sorcha was scared. She was terrified to go alone. But there was no other way.

  “What do you think he looks like?” Annis asked, wiping her eyes and grabbing a piece of cornbread left from the morning breakfast.

  “Probably tall, dark and handsome with lots of muscles and a full beard and hair so wavy it looks like he’s under water.” Sorcha gave her sister a sly grin, bouncing her thick, wild eyebrows up and down, then bursting out laughing.

  “Oh, Sorcha. Don’t be cruel to yerself.” Crumbs fell from Annis’ full mouth.

  “It’s not cruel to know the truth, Annis. I’m homely. Maybe even ugly. But I’m here and I might as well make the best of it. Mr. Teeds says looks are unimportant. Lucky for me.” She slapped her knee like Denholm would do when he made a joke or heard one of Sorcha’s funny stories about Annis.

  Just then, as if feeling the need to add its opinion into the conversation, the little black kitten that was getting as big as Annis's belly, let out a heartfelt meow and stood at Sorcha’s feet.

  “And what do you want?” Sorcha said bending down. The Kitten meowed as if she had perfectly understood what her mistress had asked. She had named the little animal Ruth after one of her favorite stories in the Bible.

  “I guess you’ll be takin’ Ruth with ya, too?” Annis asked pushing herself belly first up out of her chair to stretch. Walking into the small cubby that was their kitchen, she took a wooden ladle that hung from a string and dipped it in a bucket of clean water to drink.

  “She doesn’t take too kindly to you, Annis. I think I better.”

  “What’r you talkin’ about.” She reached her hand down to the animal. “She likes me.”

  Ruth began to hiss and arch her back. Quickly she inched over to Sorcha, peeking at Annis from behind Sorcha’s hem.

  “I don’t get that wee Kitten.” Annis shook her head.

  Sorcha scooped Ruth up in her arms and scratched her affectionately under the chin.

  “I best be gettin’ packed.”

  Without another word the sisters went into Sorcha’s bedroom. Annis took a seat on the bed, resting, as she was wanting to do most of the time while Sorcha bustled about, tucking every belonging into her carpet bag.

  “Please won’t you let Denny and me send you off with a weddin’ present?”

  “No, sister. You need to be plannin’ for that urchin of yours.” She pointed to Annis’ belly. “What do I need? Nothin’.”

  “I’m going to miss you so much!” Annis began to sob in wails and hiccups owing mostly to her pregnancy, but sincere none-the-less. Running to her sister’s side, flopping down on the bed next to her and taking her hand Sorcha laughed through tears.

  “I’ll write as soon as I’m there. I won’t miss a single detail.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Chapter 4

  Taking the locomotive across the country into the wilderness was breathtaking. Sorcha sat on a velvet covered cushioned seat clutching her carpetbag close to her with one hand and Ruth in the other.

  The kitten took to the journey as if she had been born and raised on the iron horse. The conductor would pat the feline’s head as he passed. Wealthy ladies in stiff, rustling petticoats and feathery hats would comment on the cute little creature. Men with fat cigars and shiny gold watches would allow the corner of their mouth to curl in what was as big a smile as they could muster without losing their heir of authority.

  But it was to be expected that when they looked from the cute animal to its owner they would wrinkle their nose or pull back slightly out of surprise.

  Listening to the rhythm of the wheels and swaying easily with the motion of the car, Sorcha watched the scenery roll past her. Trees three times the size of the ones she had left in Boston stood against the blue sky like soldiers standing to attention. There were wildflowers of pink and yellow that dotted the land. In one field the whole stretch was covered in purple as far back as Sorcha could see. It was like God had spilled the color purple everywhere and thought it was perfect the way it was.

  The train stopped at a few tiny towns along the way. So many of them were just a sprinkling of wooden buildings and a wooden platform where one or two anxious residents were waiting for their guest to arrive.

  Sorcha wouldn’t have anyone waiting for her at the train platform in Helena. According to Mr. Teeds letters, there would be no problem finding transportation to Rocky Creek as it was just a few miles from the state’s capital.

  Watching the sun rise and set over the horizon each day and night , Sorcha became more and more nervous. She barely ate. Fearing running out of the generous money Mr. Teeds had provided her she survived on fresh apples and coffee for many miles, splurging on a side of bacon every three days to keep Ruth happy. The cat seemed content with the diet as well.

  The train eased itself into the station in Helena, Montana jolting Sorcha out of a sound sleep when she heard the conductor yell “End of the line!”

  “My goodness.” She whispered to Ruth. “I think we’ve made it.” The kitten purred in response. “Too late to turn back now Ruth.”

  Slowly letting the majority of passengers exit the train before her, Sorcha went up to the conductor who studied her face closely but smiled politely.

  “I’ll be lookin’ to secure transport to Rocky Creek. Would ya happen to know where I might find a wagon headin’ in that direction?”

  “Sure, Miss.” The conductor stepped off the train and offered her a hand as she descended the train steps behind him. Pointing to the building with the word Station in white letters written on it he spoke plainly.

>   “Just go on in there ma’am.” He had a smooth face apart from a large brown mole on his cheek that was hidden in a dimple when he smiled. “There’s always someone there who’ll be willing to offer a lady a ride. If you’ve got money.” He looked at Sorcha sideways as if he thought she might be expected to get by on her looks.

  “I can pay my way.” She said defiantly.

  The conductor nodded his head and stepped aside for her to proceed into the building. She was greeted by four walls, one wooden chair and a heavy set man in droopy pants with a thick belt that held revolvers on each side. If he took off the dingy Stetson hat he was wearing he’d probably be shorter than Sorcha. But after he squinted his eyes to focus on Sorcha’s face he nodded and tipped his hat.

  “The conductor said I’d find transport here.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “Rocky Creek.”

  “You got money? Not doing charity work.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve got money and someone waitin’ for me there.”

  “All right.” The man grumbled as he rubbed his stubbly chin. “Wagon is this way.” He waddled side to side as he walked, his spurs jingling and clanking against the wood with each step.

  Sorcha followed behind him still holding her belongings tightly to her. She didn’t think that the man had noticed Ruth in her arms.

  “You’ll ride in back.” He grumbled. “You’ll pay once we arrive.”

  “Oh, I am happy to offer half the fee now and half upon arrival.” She offered. The old cowboy grimaced and nodded his head. Giving her a price, Sorcha was happy she had more than enough to cover the trip.

  Climbing onto the back of the wagon she was greeted by the solemn faces of a woman in her late child bearing years with a baby in her arms and another small child, a boy, about six years of age. They studied her for a moment until the little boy whispered loudly to his mother her face looks sour.

  “Jacob Martin you apologize right this minute or grandpa will take his belt to your hide.” The mother looked at Sorcha with red cheeks. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. Little ones speak their mind.”

  “That they do.” Sorcha smiled her crooked smile and sat Ruth on her lap for the boy to see. His eyes blinked wildly as he stared.

  “Would you like to pet her?”

  He nodded his head and Sorcha reached out her hand to help him cross over the massive trunks and bundles of stuff taking up most of the room in the wagon. He took it with the trust and curiosity of a boy his age, squatted down on his haunches at Sorcha’s side and gently touched the kittens ear making it flutter like a butterfly wing. Jacob Martin giggled madly.

  His mother looked on smiling shyly.

  “My name is Sorcha Breck.” Her introduction to the woman was quiet.

  “Lilian Mayweather.”The woman replied feeling more at ease to observe Sorcha’s peculiar features. “That’s my son, Jacob Martin and this is Velma Rose.” She held up the sleeping baby for Sorcha to get a look. The little pink bundle didn’t open her eyes, but chewed her gums like an old woman with a corn cob might. “My father is Mr. Maryweather who’s driving the wagon.”

  “Is your husband in Rocky Creek?”

  “No, ma’am. My husband was killed by Indians eight months ago.”

  “I'm so sorry, darlin’.” Sorcha replied putting her hand to her heart. “I’ll include him in my prayers tonight. What was his name?”

  “William Jacob Maryweather.” Lilian replied sadly smiling. “Thank you. Much obliged.”

  Within what seemed like minutes the town of Helena disappeared in the distance and the wagon was too far into the prairie for Sorcha to have second thoughts. It was hot in the wagon and Sorcha, unwilling to remove her brown bonnet felt the sweat trickling down her face. She would be a mess when she finally arrived in Rocky Creek.

  Looks unimportant. She took out the letter of correspondence she had received from Mr. Teeds. None of it made her heart skip a beat or gave her unfounded hope that he would somehow see a hidden beauty in her that no one else saw. She just reread it as a reminder of what she was doing in case she forgot.

  The journey ended that day with them making a campfire in the middle of a huge prairie by a bubbling set of boulders that offered them some protection.

  “Just’n case.” Mr. Maryweather huffed before he spat a big glob of juicy tobacco out of his mouth.

  Sorcha didn’t ask any more questions but quietly and expertly helped with the cooking and cleaning. During the night when Jacob Martin was awake with his rifle, watching and listening for any suspicious sounds while his grandpa took a rest she woke up to hear the lonely, haunting cry of coyotes in the distance. It sent shivers up her spine and she held her breath, listening for growling or panting. She wanted to close her eyes but was afraid if she did it might invite the furry, howling devils closer and closer, their eyes reflecting in the embers of the fire, their teeth bared.

  It was just as the sun was starting to lighten the sky that exhaustion took over and Sorcha fell asleep. Lilian shook her gently on the shoulder, yawning herself, asking for help with the coffee and getting a fire started.

  Without complaint Sorcha helped. Mr. Maryweather studied her as she moved about the camp.

  “What’s your business in Rocky Creek?” he grunted while putting his boots on.

  “I answered an advertisement for a wife.” She gave him her odd grin.

  Mr. Maryweather stared at her for a moment then burst into gales of coughing laughter.

  “Pa!” Lilian snapped. Now Sorcha knew where Jacob Martin got his manners. “Why you ain’t no more proper than a field hen.”

  Mr. Maryweather straightened himself up and stood up from his seat.

  “I don’t mean nothin’ by it, Miss.” He hiked up his pants and belt just so they could settle low down on his hips again. “What you lack in feminine beauty you certainly do make up for in cookin’. I ain’t had coffee and cornpone this good since Lilian’s mama died.”

  Sorcha nodded her head and blinked understandingly at the man. Something in that exchange set the old timer off and for the rest of the trip he wove elaborate stories about his days fighting in the Mexican Army and his first trip across the country and when he met his beloved.

  Finally reaching a sign that read Rocky Creek Sorcha hugged Ruth tightly to her and began to fan herself with her hand. Her clothes stuck to her back and her stomach was tied up so tight she was barely able to get any coffee down that morning.

  “It’ll be fine, Miss Sorcha.” Lilian patted her hand as they all climbed out of the wagon in the middle of town if Rocky Creek could be called a town. “We wish you all the best of luck.”

  Down the only dirt road there was a post office and a general store that she could see right away. Further down were some quaint houses and if she squinted she saw several horses lined up which probably meant that was the saloon. Men in America were not so different from the men in Scotland.

  But when she thought of Scotland, Sorcha wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the grass and the trees were as green as back home.

  After waving good-bye to her travelling companions, Sorcha headed to the store to inquire about Mr. Teeds.

  “So, you’re Miss Breck. We were told to send for Mr. Teeds when you arrived.” Said the shop-keepers wife. She scrutinized Sorcha’s appearance paying more attention to the quality of her shoes than her face. Her name was Mrs. Planne. She had a face like a parrot. A long nose, eyes that were reluctant to blink for fear they may miss something and a mound of hair piled high on top of her head as the feathers of a cockatoo would have. “Mr. Teeds has several acres of land. My husband and I are the only family in Rocky Creek to have more land but we don’t like to talk about that.” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head as if she hadn’t brought up that very fact herself. “You’re welcome to browse around while you wait for him.”

  “Thank you.” Sorcha adjusted her purse, slipping Ruth into it to make sure she didn’t decide to stretch her tiny claws on any s
ilk fabric or sack of potatoes.

  “So, where are you from?” Mrs. Planne asked with interest.

  “I come here from Boston. But my sister and I came over from Scotland.”

  A man appeared from behind a brown curtain carrying several jars of what looked like peaches and began to line them up on a shelf behind Mrs. Planne.

  “Dear, you’ll never believe who is here. Miss Breck.”

  “Who?” The man grunted.

  “Miss Breck. You know. The woman coming to marry Latham Teeds.” She nudged her husband to get him to turn around but he didn’t.

  “I’m busy right now, Martha. I could use a hand. There aren’t any customers right now. Instead of snooping on Mr. Teeds business maybe you could help me with mine.”

  Mrs. Planne blushed as she gave Sorcha a quick smile that was more like a grimace. Just as she was about to protest, a tall man in a ten gallon hat cast a shadow into the store.

  “Mrs. Planne. Mr. Planne.” His voice was firm like it shot out of his throat as a bullet would a rifle. “Has anyone come for...”

  Before he could finish his sentence Mrs. Planne pointed her soft, dainty finger in Sorcha’s direction. Pulling the hat from his head as he stepped inside he cleared his throat.

  “Excuse me miss. Are you Sorcha Breck?”

  “I am.” She stuttered. Staring up at the giant in front of her she could see brown freckles across his nose. His hands were big and calloused from hard work and his back was broad with muscles.

  “Name’s Collin. I've come to fetch you and take you to Miss Harvey’s boarding house just up the road a piece. We can walk there, that is if you’re not too tired.”

  “Walk there?”

  Nodding his head and kneading the hat in his hands Collin spoke plainly.

  “I’m Mr. Teeds hired hand. Mr. Teeds says its bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

  “Yes.” Sorcha stammered. “I’ve heard that, too.”

  “So he’s asked me to take you to Miss Harvey’s. He’s paid for your room and a bath as well and if’n your hungry she’s got some of the best pie this side of the Mason Dixon.”