by Linda Ellen
Elvira tipped her head in thought. “Hmm…yes. Oh, well, that’s no problem. I’ll ask Lloyd. He’ll do it for me. He tells me all the time that I have him wrapped around my pinkie, much to his dismay. Besides, he already understands about proxy marriages,” she added with a chuckle.
As the four ladies made their way out of the telegraph office, Pauline’s head felt like it was spinning as Mrs. Fetterman regaled them all, nonstop like a Gatling gun, about an incident that had happened before she had met her husband.
An incident between a marriage broker and a proxy bride.
“Now, send a wire as soon as you get there and let us know you arrived,” Pauline’s mother instructed for the third time.
“I will, Mama. Don’t worry.”
Pearl hugged Pauline again, kissed her on the cheek, and then leaned back to look into her daughter’s eyes as she smoothed a lock of her soft, light brown hair. “I can’t help worrying, sweetheart. It’s what mothers do.”
Livvy and the twins were standing behind Pearl, waiting for their turn to bid their sister a safe voyage, with Dwight on one side and the Fettermans on the other. In turn, Pauline hugged each of her siblings goodbye, and then Mrs. Fetterman. Then she reached out to shake Mr. Fetterman’s hand as she looked up at him with a blush. The man had, after all, just spoken vows with her—although it was all fake and his own wife had been standing on the opposite side—giggling! The judge had made several odd remarks about the incidences of proxy marriages becoming more common, and how they always seemed to wind up in his court.
“Thank you, Mr. Fetterman, for all of your help.”
“You are quite welcome, Miss Christiansen.” He paused and then laughed. “I mean Mrs. Keller. I must say, Elvira,” he added, drawing his wife against his side as he smiled down into her eyes. “This was a brilliant plan. You are quite clever, dear wife, and you never cease to amaze me.”
“Oh pshaw,” Elvira replied, but was nonetheless glowing from her husband’s compliment. Thankfully, before she could launch into a long discourse, the train that would carry Pauline across the country chugged into place and stopped next to the platform in a cloud of steam.
After another round of goodbyes and a flurry of activity, Pauline was all too soon seated by the window, waving farewell to her family, her hometown, and everything familiar. A knot of fear that had been growing little by little with each passing hour now seemed to mushroom into something large enough to fill her chest.
All too soon, the train began to move and the station slowly slid out of sight with the train surging its way north.
Pauline took out a hanky and dabbed at the tears she couldn’t seem to stem. She wasn’t weeping out of sadness, but shedding tears against facing the unknown, all alone. A strange combination of excitement, nervousness, and expectations began to arise within her.
Soon, her attention was piqued as the train approached, and then began to cross, the Fourteenth Street Bridge. Pauline had never been on a train before and had never crossed the wide Ohio River to Indiana, but she had seen the railroad bridge many times from the shore.
“Isn’t this an amazing piece of workmanship, miss?” an older man asked from across the aisle. They were looking out the windows at the iron, V-patterned girders of the lifting span as the train passed them by.
“This is what they call a truss vertical-lift bridge,” the man continued as if Pauline had answered. “It was built thirteen years ago. It’s the longest iron bridge in the country and it has twenty-seven spans that reach all the way over the falls of the Ohio and covers a whole mile from one shore to the other. This part we’re passing through now lifts up high enough for the stacks of a steamboat to pass under and go on down the Portland Canal. Then, the whole thing lowers back down and is strong enough for a loaded freight train to cross over. It’s hard to believe, huh? Trains go over this bridge about a hundred and fifty times a day. Did you know that?”
Pauline managed a smile for the man who seemed as excited as a small boy with a fascination for trains.
“No, I didn’t, but yes, that’s quite interesting,” she answered.
Soon, they were across the river and on their way north to Indianapolis, and then west.
Pauline set her face forward and straightened her back. She didn’t know what exactly awaited her in this faraway place called Brownville, Nebraska…but she had a feeling that everything was going to work out just as it should. As if…as if a large hand was somehow directing the entire proceedings, like a maestro conducting an orchestra.
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the tall seat and turned her face toward the window to spend some time in silent prayer.
Father…guide me…protect me…take away all fear…help me know what I’m supposed to do. And…let this Tobias Keller—my husband—be a kind man. Surely, he must be, or he wouldn’t have offered the use of his name…and surely the people who know him…Mrs. Fetterman’s friends…wouldn’t have suggested this if he weren’t a good man… Oh, no matter. Your will be done. Thank you, Father. In Jesus’ Name…
She sat there in her seat, eyes closed, soaking in the feeling of peace that began to settle on her like a warm blanket, and she let out a soft sigh. After a while, the rhythmic movement of the wheels on the rails rocked Pauline to sleep.
Although she had no idea at the time, she dreamed of a handsome, bearded, auburn haired man with a heart-melting smile and bright blue eyes.
Chapter 5
F our days later, Toby found himself back on the platform in front of Brownville’s red brick depot, waiting for the 9:05 train to pull in from the last leg of Pauline’s trip. Pauline Nicole Christiansen…no, Keller…his wife.
Toby shook his head with a soft chuckle and took off his black Stetson, swept one hand back through his hair, smoothed down his meticulously trimmed beard, and put his hat back on.
One week! How had so much happened in just one week? Had it truly only been seven days since he’d gotten off the train and stepped foot back into his home town? In that short amount of time, he was already employed as a deputy to Sheriff Plasters, firmly ensconced in the town’s elegant Larson Boarding House, and, oddest of all—married. And to a woman he had never met or even laid eyes on. Only having been informed of her age—twenty—and her name, he had no idea what the young lady looked like, what kind of personality she had, or anything else... And she knows nothing of me…
Pauline…Pauline Keller…my bride.
Toby huffed out a breath and reminded himself that this was just a business arrangement. A way to save a young woman from a fate she did not want—that of marriage to a swindler who had threatened to do her harm. Their marriage was temporary, and the town’s newest attorney, David Mercer—who also served as the city clerk—had already been notified to prepare the annulment papers for whenever the lady heard back from her family in Louisville. It was quite a strange situation, to say the least.
“Nervous, Toby boy?” a voice asked over his right shoulder.
He turned to find one of Brownville’s locals, old-timer Cliff Fulton, grinning at him like a Cheshire cat. Most of his teeth were missing, his body seemed a bit more feeble and bent over than Toby remembered, and not much hair remained on his nearly bald pate, but one look in his eyes and he could see old Cliff was still sharp as a tack.
Toby remembered the man from his childhood in Brownville pretty much the same way, only then there had been three old geezers to tease and annoy the young folks—the Three Old Musketeers—Cliff Fulton, Charlie Grawemeyer, and Cyrus Ames. Toby knew from Nettie’s letters to Poppy that Charlie and Cyrus had already crossed over the bridge to the hereafter, and that left Cliff with the honor of being the sole remaining resident that had come to Brownville with the first wave of settlers and helped build the town. Not that he moped around feeling sorry for himself. No, old Cliff never missed an ounce of gossip. He must be in his nineties now, Toby mused.
“Kind of, Mr. Fulton,” Toby answered. “But…could I ask you
a favor?”
The old man eyed him up close over top of his spectacles and asked, “What’s that, boy?”
When Toby hesitated, the old man flapped a hand and groused, “Well? Speak up, Toby Boy! I ain’t gettin’ any younger!”
Toby cleared his throat and took off his Stetson—again, fidgeting with the silver band and hating that he was being made to feel like a youngster. “Would you, um…please not call me Toby Boy? It…well, it makes me feel like a kid in short pants.”
The cantankerous old man stared at him for a few moments and then threw back his head and cackled long and hard. Then he reached over and slapped Toby on the back with a gnarled, bony hand. “Why boy—compared to the likes of me, you are a kid in short pants!” Then he cackled some more. Toby tried not to let the old man see him wince, but that laugh affected Toby like fingernails scraping down a chalkboard.
When the oldster quieted again, Toby tried, “Well…at least…could you not call me that in front of…”
“Your new proxy bride?” Cliff supplied with a teasing glint sparkling behind his glasses.
Toby felt his face begin to flame, and oh how he hated the fact that his fair skin glowed when he blushed like a girl. Then a thought hit him—Old Cliff knew about the proxy marriage, which meant most likely everybody in town knew. He hoped this fact didn’t embarrass Pauline overly much. He sighed resignedly. That was the price of living in a small town—no privacy.
Cliff laughed again and then clapped Toby on the shoulder, leaning in to whisper as if he were imparting an important secret. “Not to worry, sonny. I’ll keep my trap shut. Don’t want to embarrass you in front of the little missus.”
Toby ground his teeth together and flashed a look at the old man, but before anything else could be said, they both heard the familiar whistle from around the last bend.
“There she is, right on time,” Charlie’s voice came from just behind.
A shiver of nerves shot down Toby’s spine. Why am I feeling nervous? It’s not like I’m here meeting a mail order bride or anything. This isn’t till death do us part. No chance of anything permanent here. I’m just doing the girl a favor. An odd sort of favor, true, but a favor nonetheless. It don’t matter what I think of her or what she thinks of me…
That’s what he kept telling himself, but…somehow, his heart wasn’t getting the message. It was beating faster than the smoke puffing out of the engine’s smoke stack and his mouth had suddenly gone as dry as a shock of wheat.
Within moments of hearing the whistle, the platform filled with people. Toby glanced around to see Sam and Finn Maynard bracketing their wives, Charise and Beth Ann. Sheriff Plasters and his wife Dottie were squeezing their way in alongside them. The pastor of the Baptist church, Reverend McKnight, and his wife, Rachael, had heard about the unusual circumstances and joined the growing crowd of well-wishers. Iris Larson and her father had come out as well, presumably to invite the town’s newest, although short-term, citizen to stay at their boarding house.
Then Toby’s mother, sisters, and his youngest siblings appeared, with Tad hopping up and down as if the visitor were coming specially to see him. Moreover, other travelers were beginning to mill around, and were stretching their necks to get a look at Pauline as she descended from the train.
With a flash of regret, Toby wished he had thought to scrounge up a bouquet of flowers for her or something. Some way to make her feel welcome. Then, as if he had read his mind, Charlie appeared at his side and thrust a hastily gathered handful of black-eyed Susan’s into Toby’s empty hands.
“Here, you need something to give your bride when she arrives. Can’t just stand there and gawk at her,” the older man chided. Toby glanced at him and confirmed a teasing gleam in his eyes.
Holding the flowers in one hand, Toby reached up to make sure his string tie was straight as the train’s wheels slowed to a stop. From inside, they all heard the conductor call out, “Brownville, end of line!”
Then the door opened and people began to step out onto the landing and down the metal stairs to the wooden platform before greeting friends or family and making their way to their destinations. Toby shifted his head this way and that, trying to see through the dusty windows, but all he could discern were indistinguishable bodies slowly moving toward the exit.
And then…a young woman emerged. Smooth brown hair could be seen, styled and swept up under a small, fashionable hat. She wore a dark blue traveling suit and carried a carpetbag in one hand while her reticule hung from the other wrist. Although a bit disheveled from traveling, she took his breath away.
Somehow, some way, Toby knew it was her. His bride. His wife.
She stood for a moment looking over the small crowd of people, and then her perusal landed on him and something unseen within them seemed to link together. She paused, staring. Then, her eyes widened just a bit and he had the unmistakable feeling that somehow she had also recognized him.
Charise and Beth Ann then moved around from behind him, a bit awkwardly as they were both quite far along with child, and headed toward the young woman, effectively breaking the connection between them.
“Excuse me,” Charise began, “But, are you Pauline?”
The girl’s pretty face, which had worn a bit of a worried frown, now relaxed into a smile that seemed to light up her entire countenance. Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat…she’s beautiful!
“Yes, I am!” she answered. This seemed to have the effect of a barn door being flung open and the rest of the impromptu welcoming committee surged forward. Hands reached to help Pauline descend the rather high last step, someone offered to carry her bag, another asked if she had more belongings to retrieve, and then people were introducing themselves, introducing others, asking questions, and striking up conversations.
All he could do was stand there like a statue and take it all in.
“I’m Charise Maynard and this is my best friend, as well as my sister-in-law, Beth Ann,” Charise spoke above the clamor. “We’re from Louisville, too, and we came here as proxy brides,” she added, causing the newcomer’s smile to brighten all the more, if that were possible.
“Oh my, you can’t imagine how good that sounds,” the girl answered with a soft laugh that, to Toby, sounded like heaven.
After a while, Sam turned and grinned at Toby before taking Pauline gently by the arm and leading her a few paces as the others moved to make way.
“Pauline…I think it’s about time you met your husband. This is Toby. Oh, ‘scuse me, Tobias Keller. Tobias—Pauline.”
Then, she was there, standing in front of him, and as if in a dream, he extended one hand to give her the flowers and tipped his hat with the other as he murmured, “How ‘do, Pauline.”
She accepted them, lifted them to her delicate nose for an appreciative sniff, and then smiled into his eyes with a gentle, “Pleased to meet you, Tobias. These are lovely, thank you.”
For Pauline, it had been a long four days that at times felt as if they would never end.
She had slept in her seat on the train quite a bit, and had spent a restless night with other passengers on the hard benches at another station when her incoming train had arrived late and they had missed their connecting line.
For the most part, however, it had been a peaceful trip and, along the way, there had only been one frightening incident—the first day.
Mr. and Mrs. Fetterman had been quite generous, both of them pressing money into her hands during their last farewells, with Elvira whispering in her ear to make sure she enjoyed the trip. Feeling hungry toward evening, she and some of her fellow passengers had made their way to the end car—one of the new Pullman Palace dining cars, no less—to indulge in some supper. She and several others from her car sat together at a table. The padded chairs were tight up against those of the next table, which made the seating feel a bit crowded, but the food was good and included salmon with Hollandaise sauce, potatoes, green peas, and mince pie for dessert, followed by delicious coffee.
Afterward, feeling relaxed and satisfied, she had risen from her seat with the other travelers who had also finished their meals, and turned to go back to her assigned compartment when a man entered the dining car at the other end.
Her heart literally stopped as the man’s black hair, the cut and color of his suit, his height, and even the way he moved seemed exactly that of Harold Barrow! Trapped at the far end of the car and being so near the rear of the train, there was no escape!
She had looked around frantically for help of any kind and even briefly flirted with the idea of diving under the table, but she had stopped short as the man turned his face her way.
It wasn’t him.
The release she had felt had made her weak in the knees, and barely able to mumble coherent answers to fellow passengers asking if she were all right.
Thankfully, the rest of the trip had no such heart-palpitating occurrences.
On the morning of the fourth day, she had arrived with the sun in Nebraska City and paid for a room and bath at a hotel, indulging in the first hot soak she’d had in what seemed like forever. Then, she had lain down for a short rest. Refreshed, she had donned her remaining clean outfit and boarded yet another train for the last thirty minutes of her journey.
Before she knew it, she had reached Brownville.
Pauline had never been so nervous in her life as when she had stepped out onto that landing and surveyed all of those strangers on the platform. They all seemed to be staring at her, as if they expected…well, she wasn’t sure what they were expecting. In the nick of time, she had squelched the impulse to glance down at her clothing and make sure everything was clean, straight, and buttoned!
Then, a charming dark-haired woman, obviously with child, had separated from the others and introduced herself as being from Louisville, and that she had been a proxy bride. This was one of the two Elvira had told her about! The relief she felt at that moment couldn’t be calculated. The others had crowded around her then, talking, laughing, introducing themselves…but all the while, a quiet man holding a small bouquet of yellow and black flowers, stood back from the throng and merely watched.