by Ember Pierce
* * *
Sometimes the men would send their mail order bride an engagement ring. And sometimes the women would pawn the ring and use the money sent to go elsewhere. Apparently, Mr. Henderson did not expect any such poor behavior from Mae.
* * *
But should she expect poor behavior from him? What should she do if Mr. Henderson was not a man she wanted to marry? She felt her heart beating in her chest.
* * *
There was nothing to do but go and be married to him. She couldn’t even think about what might happen if he wasn’t who she thought he was. Or worse, if he was like Bill.
* * *
Reaching up, Mae smoothed her hair back. There was no use worrying. She’d made her decision and there was no turning back.
* * *
Not now.
* * *
The thought of being joined in holy wedlock to Bill Masters gave her the courage she needed to continue on with strength even if she did feel slightly guilty for leaving her family and worried about what lay ahead.
* * *
She resolved to send them money as soon as she found work in Fable Springs, though. It was the only thing she could do.
* * *
Her mother, she knew, would be grief stricken that her eldest had left home. Mae had left her last wages on the pantry shelf with a note that said…
* * *
Don’t try to find me. I’ll write when I can.
* * *
Mae
* * *
She knew they’d worry, though. And she knew her father would be beside himself with anger when he realized he’d been outwitted by his daughter.
* * *
She smiled to herself. Her father, she hoped, would get over his anger when she wrote home to tell them where she was and to say how happy she was. A new life ribboned out in front of her. Things were going to be okay. Mae had to keep her thoughts positive. There was no place for worry or fear.
* * *
Mr. Henderson’s advertisement had mentioned that if looks were a top priority then not to apply. Mae wondered what that meant. It intrigued her though.
* * *
Clearly he was someone who didn’t take people at face value. She wondered who this man, who would be her husband within a week, was. His advertisement had said he was a former sheriff. That said quite a bit about him, too.
* * *
Sheriffs were elected officials, so unless Mr. Henderson was a shady type and had paid the people of the county to elect him, he must be well-liked. He would need to be responsible and honest. He must be quite brave and a good shot. She wondered what he was doing currently.
* * *
He’d written that he had land he farmed. And he’d written that he had a lot to offer. She hoped that meant good conversation seated in front of the fireplace, discussions about books, music, and plays. Horses were another favorite of Mae’s. She hoped there were riding horses at Mr. Henderson’s farm.
* * *
Mae had always seen herself as independent and a bit of a loner. But the evening she’d spent with Bill Masters had shown her something about herself. She was lonely. And she hadn’t even realized it.
* * *
Lonely feelings had always been an unknown state to her, but sitting in the parlor with Bill had caused her to realize that she’d been starved for conversation. She enjoyed being next to someone. It wasn’t Bill that made her feel that way, but she realized it was something she wanted in her life. With the right person.
* * *
Love, marriage, children...these were things that came with time, although in the current case, Mae’s marriage was to come before a proper conversation.
* * *
Before a proper letter, even. Her fiancé was an impatient man. He wanted to waste no time in legalizing their union and getting on with a life together.
* * *
She wondered some more about the man she’d promised to spend her whole life with. Was he merely looking for a maid and a companion? Did he want a wife who would be a partner to him and stand by him in all things? Or maybe, it was love he was looking for? And children. Did he want to share his life and build one intertwined with hers? Or were they destined to be together as husband and wife in name only. A marriage of convenience.
* * *
Oh, dear lord. What if her new husband was someone she didn’t get on with? What if he found something lacking in her? Now that she was on her way to Texas, and in spite of telling herself that worrying would do no good, her fears played around in her mind. She fended them off as well as she could until finally the rocking of the train car lulled her and she fell asleep.
* * *
The trip passed quickly and when she awoke from a nap on the day she was to arrive, the train was stationary. She looked out the window. She saw a squat, flat-roofed building which she presumed to be the station house.
* * *
Next to it, about twenty yards away, stood the stagecoach station. She squinted her eyes and looked harder. There weren’t many people around and she saw no one with a wagon. She’d written him that she was on her way and her letter should have arrived before her.
* * *
Surely her fiancé would have expected her to have a trunk with her. Unless he hadn’t received the letter?
* * *
The conductor called out the station stop. She was here, in Fable Springs, Texas. It was time. Mae’s stomach felt especially queasy. She took up her satchel and carpet bag and walked out of the compartment to the end of the car. The porter outside offered her his hand and assisted her down from the train car.
* * *
“Do you have luggage, ma’am?” The porter looked at her inquisitively.
* * *
“No. No, I don’t. I’m wondering, though, is there a special area where people wait?”
* * *
“I’m sorry, miss. I don’t understand.”
* * *
“Is there a place around here where those who are picking up arrivals congregate?”
* * *
“Um, no ma’am. Folks just wait around wherever it’s convenient. Usually in the shade somewhere.”
* * *
“Oh thank you.” The porter set her down and handed her carpet bag back to her.
* * *
“Thank you.”
* * *
“Anything else you need, ma’am?”
* * *
“Uh, I don’t see the person who’s to meet me.”
* * *
“You don’t? Well, why don’t you take a seat on the bench over there on the porch. It’s much cooler and you can get a drink of water inside.”
* * *
The porter must have sensed her anxiety because he said, “Don’t worry, ma’am. Fable Springs isn’t all that big. You can get from one end clear to the other in ten minutes walking. Your ride will be along.”
* * *
“Thank you.” She walked over to the porch. There was a clock inside the station house on the wall. Mae looked in the window and saw it was two o’clock. She walked to the rain barrel in the shade of the porch.
* * *
There was a dipper hanging on a nail on the post holding up the porch. This must be the drink of water the porter spoke of. Mae looked around and seeing no one to ask for a glass, or probably something like a tin cup, she dipped the utensil into the cool water.
* * *
She hadn’t realized she’d been so thirsty. The cool water tasted so delicious to her, she finished what was in the dipper and then filled it all the way up again. When her thirst was sated, she took a seat on the bench in the shade and waited.
* * *
In her haste to leave Havenshire, she’d neglected to put a book in her satchel or her carpet bag. It was not the first time on the journey that she’d wanted to kick herself for the oversight. She had no sewing with her either.
* * *
The last three days of no wor
k with her hands had given them a much needed rest. Now as she sat, waiting for Mr. Henderson, she worried about what would happen when she met him. All the worries she’d pushed away for the past two days came back.
* * *
But Mae shook her head to jar herself out of her dark thoughts and stood up. Her carpet bag was safe on the bench and she walked a few times, back and forth, the length of the porch in an effort to get herself into a more positive state.
* * *
She glanced inside the station house again. It was half-past two on the nose. She’d been waiting for thirty minutes already. She couldn’t understand it.
* * *
The letter she’d sent had said when she was leaving Winchester. Mr. Henderson should have been at the station an hour ago to greet the train.
* * *
Mae started getting very nervous. Was there possibly another Fable Springs in Texas? Was she in the wrong place? She hurried back to the bench and sat. Her satchel held the letter from Mr. Henderson and the advertisement she’d cut from the paper. She smoothed the letter out on her knees.
* * *
Yes! There it was in ink on paper. Fable Springs. Texas. She had to be in the right place. There was no one around. All the passengers who’d exited the train were long gone. Even the friendly porter who’d helped her earlier was nowhere to be seen.
* * *
She glanced over her shoulder again and through the window of the station. There was a clerk inside. Mae imagined that people bought train tickets all the time. It didn’t matter that the train arrived in Fable Springs only twice a day.
* * *
She picked up her carpet bag and headed in. It was dim and quiet. The smell of old wood and dust came to her nostrils. The man behind the bars of the opening smiled at her and waited. Mae approached the window.
* * *
“I notice you’ve been waiting, ma’am. Anything I can help you with?” He continued looking at her but it didn’t cause her to feel uncomfortable in any way. The man was not distracted by her, which offered silent comfort to her predicament.
* * *
“Thank you. Actually, the gentleman who was to pick me up...I just realized he must think I’m arriving tomorrow.” She lied. She didn’t want to put a blight on her future husband’s name, especially if things between the two of them worked out wonderfully.
* * *
She would never want it to get back to Mr. Henderson that the ticket seller knew that he didn’t come to pick up his bride. It wouldn’t look good for him. Or her, for that matter. She decided to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary.
* * *
“I see. Who is the gentleman?”
* * *
Mae held her breath. This was the moment of truth. What if the ticket seller told her there was no such man in Fable Springs? What if Mr. Henderson turned out to be a drunkard? What if he was already married to someone else?
* * *
Her mind went over every negative scenario she could think of before she gave Mr. Henderson’s name.
* * *
She steeled herself for a barrage of questions. But the clerk simply told her where Mr. Henderson’s house was - though he did seem a tiny bit surprised.
* * *
“You see, we’re on the north end here. You’ll walk out of here and go straight to the next road over. There you’ll turn right. That’s main street. The square is there in the middle of town. It has our church, the jail, the Mayor’s Residence, the schoolhouse, the general store...you’ll find a number of smaller shops over that way too.”
* * *
“I see. And then?”
* * *
“Just keep walking until there are houses. Mr. Henderson’s house is the last on the road, it’s off to the right, set back under some nice shade trees. It will take you little more than ten minutes if you walk at a good clip. Otherwise, give yourself a little more time.”
* * *
“Well, thank you. Thank you, very much. And…” She looked over each shoulder to make sure no one else was in the station.
* * *
“What is it, ma’am?”
* * *
“I don’t have an escort…”
* * *
The clerk smiled. “Not to worry, ma’am. You’re in the west now. We tend to be a little more casual than the eastern cities. Where are you coming from?”
* * *
“Uh, Winchester.”
* * *
“So, I’m thinking you’ve done your share of walking without an escort, eh?”
* * *
“I reckon you’re right. Thank you for your help.”
* * *
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
* * *
Mae turned and walked out of the station house through the front doors. She walked straight across an open, dusty expanse of road and then turned right.
* * *
The walk was enjoyable enough. She passed the square and continued on as the two and three story businesses gave way to private dwellings.
* * *
She spied a small white house off to the right. It was the last house on the main road. She climbed the porch steps, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
5
Scott swept and mopped the kitchen floor. This had to stop.
* * *
He’d gotten into the habit of cleaning on Sundays. Before, his routine had been to go to Church and then have Sunday dinner at a friend’s house.
* * *
He’d had many invitations in the months after the accident but he’d refused so many and for so long that the townspeople had stopped asking. Of course, he’d got into the habit on purpose.
* * *
If he always had something to do, he always had an excuse to say no. And that was how he liked it. He wanted to be left alone. At least it was preferable to the alternative where he would sit at their tables and people would act like they weren’t uncomfortable with his scars.
* * *
He remembered precisely how it had happened that he had ended up cleaning house on Sundays instead of going to church. After the accident, he’d had an aversion to other people, assuming that they would be uncomfortable around him.
* * *
So every time Scott saw people approaching him, he cringed in fear. He didn’t want to go to their homes and share their tables. He avoided it as much as he could. And then one Sunday, when he’d prepared himself to decline yet another invitation to dinner... no one approached him.
* * *
He’d stood with Ephraim and Sheriff Bentley outside of the church. A couple approached them, said hello to Scott, and proceeded to invite Ephraim to their home.
* * *
Scott told Ephraim to go. He was fine, he’d said. So, the mayor of Fable Springs went for his visit. Scott waited a few more minutes, for what he didn’t know, and then he’d walked home to the south end of town.
* * *
The next two weeks, after church, Scott had received no invitations to dinner. And by the third week, he’d decided that he wouldn’t be going back to Church.
* * *
It didn’t matter so much to him that the invitations of the townsfolk had dried up. He reckoned they’d only been extended in the first place because his neighbors felt sorry for him. No families with marriageable daughters seemed to care to have him to their homes that was for certain.
* * *
It didn’t matter, though. Not really. Scott couldn’t fathom sitting down to dinner at a table where everyone was afraid to look at him. The social aspect of going to Church was not what Scott was lacking.
* * *
He wanted to get back to Church not because of anything Ephraim said but because he felt his relationship with God was suffering. He didn’t know how he felt about God these days or how to talk to him.