by Zina Abbott
“Some of the others warned me Mr. Bainbridge provided only two chairs. If we want more chairs that match, we need to buy them ourselves from Mr. Nighy. Along with the cabinet you assured me Kate would want, I’ll buy at least two more chairs.”
“You’ll not be sorry buying that cabinet for Kate. She’ll be using it often, and you’ll be getting the benefit of it, now won’t you?” Annie turned to face Michael, only to find a teasing grin on his face.
“And I’ll definitely buy the extra chairs. I imagine there will be no living in peace with Kate until I have enough chairs so she can invite her sister over for Sunday suppers.”
Annie swallowed as a plethora of thoughts raced through her mind. She had tried to ignore how much she looked forward to spending Sunday afternoons with the man she hoped would soon be her brother-in-law and married to the sister with whom she felt such a strong bond. The thought that he wanted her to continue spending Sunday suppers with him and Kate once the two were married should have pleased her. Instead, an uneasy sense of warning coursed through her. She enjoyed the time she spent with Michael too much. It was not fair to Kate for there to be such a close friendship between her and her future brother-in-law, just because Annie had been given the opportunity to meet Michael first.
Annie lifted her shoulder and forced herself to make light of his words. “We’ll see, now won’t we, Michael O’Hare? It might be after meeting our Katie, you’ll be wanting to spend all your free time alone with her.” Annie pulled her cloak more tightly, unsure if the shivering cold she felt was due to the afternoon quickly fading into evening, or if it was due to the prospect that, to be fair to her sister, she needed to spend less time with Michael. “We best be going back. I’m not favoring a dunk in the river while crossing the bridge in poor light.”
After Michael moved away from the window and offered her his arm, Annie took it without speaking. They walked up to the main road for the mine housing and turned in the direction of the bridge that would return them to Jubilee Springs.
Annie wished she knew for certain Kate would choose Michael. After her last letter in which she had told her sister she needed to ask him about his plans for the future, she hoped nothing Michael had written had turned her sister against him. She desperately wanted Kate to live close by. She continually thought and spoke as though it were a given that Kate would come to Jubilee Springs and marry Michael, because the alternative was too depressing for Annie to consider. She only wished one of them would assure her the decision had been made, and Kate was on her way. Until then, Annie knew she would not rest easy.
As if reading her thoughts, just before they crossed the bridge, Michael stopped and turned Annie to face him.
“Miss Flanagan, in my last letter to Kate, I asked her to marry me. I’d hoped to have a reply by now, but so far, I don’t know what her decision is. I just wanted you to know, I’m serious about bringing your sister here. If you write to her soon, I hope you put in a good word for me.”
“That I will, Mr. O’Hare. Thank you for telling me.” As they crossed the bridge and continued into Jubilee Springs, Annie felt the panic rise within her. If Michael had asked for her hand, and enough time had passed for him to have expected an answer by now, why hadn’t Kate written back accepting his marriage proposal? Surely, she was not still considering the man who lived in Central City. Annie knew she needed to send a letter to her sister as soon as possible. Somehow, she must persuade Kate that Michael O’Hare was a wonderful man who would be a good husband and provide her with a nice home. Annie must convince her to come to Jubilee Springs.
Something told her that considering some of the things she wished to write—to assure Kate about certain matters—she perhaps should find someone other than Delly to help her with the letter. For certain, she would describe the house her sister would be living in. However, Annie had discovered Delly had definite opinions about the bridal agency Kate and Michael were using. Plus, there were a few details about the changes in her employer she knew Kate would find important, but Delly might refuse to include in a letter. Yet, something told her, until Kate accepted Michael’s proposal, it was best to not ask him to help her with a letter. Besides, she intended to praise him in hope of tipping the scales in his favor.
The next thing Annie knew, she and Michael arrived at the front steps of Howard Boarding House. She turned to him with a smile. “I’ll be seeing you at mass next Sunday, Mr. O’Hare. I’ll be preparing a Sunday meal for after and serving it in the warehouse. I’m hoping by then you’ll be knowing Kate’s answer.”
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Chapter 10
~o0o~
November 28, 1881
W ith laundry day at the Nighys’ amounting to nothing more than bundling the dirty clothes and hauling them next door to the Hackett Laundry, Mondays tended to be a surprisingly light work day for Annie. Other than purchasing items she needed for supper from the bakery, butcher, and mercantile, she had a couple of hours she could spend taking care of her own business in town. Rather than ask Delly to help her write a letter like she often did Mondays—which Delly had already told her she did not have time for that morning—Annie walked toward the mercantile with her mind debating on whose help she could request.
Annie’s steps slowed as she approached Brinks Mercantile. Desi Brinks would no doubt be more than willing to help her with a letter, if she was not too busy with the store. After all, her postmistress tasks would not demand most of her time until after the train arrived with the most current load of mail later that day. However, knowing how the Brinks loved to share news about townspeople, Annie felt reluctant to make her aware of some of the things she wished to tell Kate. She turned around and looked at the door to her boarding house. She knew Mrs. Howard would be busy cleaning rooms and preparing the meal for supper. She might not have time to help with a letter before Annie needed to drop it at the post office to go out on that day’s train.
Annie decided to walk the long way toward the railroad depot. Perhaps, while she tried to figure out who to ask to write the letter, she could at least become more familiar with the train schedule.
~o0o~
With an audible huff upon shedding the heavy, fleece-lined leather coat he wore when working outside, Garland McAllister plopped down in his extra chair he kept between the coal-burning heater and the window that offered natural light to the room. Located on the other side of small desk he used when he was not standing at the ticket window or overseeing matters on the depot’s loading dock, he liked to sit there and read when he had the time. He shook his head in frustration as he wondered why Monday mornings were so often like they were. It was as if having Sundays off turned the brains of the railroad workers into mush. It was probably more the case that some of them continued partaking of their Saturday libations into Sunday and were still half-drunk.
Either way, before reporting for work, Garland had bought a nice venison roast to prepare for this evening. He could hardly wait for his lunch break so he could walk to his cabin long enough to build up the fire in his stove, season the meat, and put it on to slowly roast. His mouth watered at the thought of enjoying it with the baked potatoes in white sauce flavored with herbs he planned to prepare as a side dish.
As Garland turned to see who had blocked the light in the window, his eyes widened at the sight of the last person in Jubilee Springs he expected to see that morning. He rose to his feet and quickly donned his black wool jacket he wore for handling railroad business with the traveling public while she entered the small depot’s waiting room and now stood by the open ticket window. “Good morning, Miss Flanagan. How may I help you? I hope you have not already grown weary of our little t-town and are p-planning to leave us.” He waited patiently as the woman smiled and shook her head.
“I’ve a bit of extra time this morning, and I’m needing to learn more about the train schedule. I’m hoping my sister will be arriving in the next few weeks.”
Garland nodded in acknowledgement. “Ah, yes. If I recall, that would be the Miss Flanagan who has been writing to Mr. O’Hare, correct?”
“You’ve a good memory, Mr….sorry I am, but I’ve been learning so many new names this past month…”
“McAllister. Garland McAllister. No need to apologize. It was the s-same for me when I first arrived here.” He inwardly sighed with resignation as he realized that, with the way Annie Flanagan tipped her head and studied him, she intended to stay and talk awhile.
“You’re not originally from here, then?”
Garland smiled indulgently. “No, Miss Flanagan, I’m from Denver. Except for a few old p-prospectors who have been chipping away at these mountains looking for gold since before it became more profitable to mine silver, no one is originally from here.” He turned and pointed to a hand-painted schedule. “These are the days and t-times the t-train runs.” Then he remembered overhearing her tell O’Hare she was unable to read. “Departure to p-points east, including Denver, are in the mornings on T-Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Arrivals from p-points east are in the afternoons on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. There’s not much to the west of here unless you’re headed for Gunnison, which is where the railroad crew building this line s-stopped after the weather forced them to s-set up their winter camp.”
“So, Mondays, Wednesdays, or Fridays are the days I can be expecting my sister to be coming?”
“Since your s-sister is using the Colorado Bridal Agency, the way Mrs. Millard had scheduled things in the p-past, she will come here with her, p-probably on a Friday. That will give Miss Flanagan and Mr. O’Hare a couple of days to become acquainted before they make the final decision regarding marriage. Mrs. Millard usually leaves on the T-Tuesday train after the S-Sunday weddings.” Garland paused as he noted the expression of concern on the woman before him as she looked off to the side. “Is there a matter I can help you with, Miss Flanagan?” Wearing a forced smile, she turned her gaze back to him.
“Thank you, I’m not wanting to be a bother. It’s just, I’m needing to send a letter to my sister, and I’m debating on who I can be asking this morning who’d be having the time to write one. Mrs. Nighy being busy, as is Mrs. Howard, the only other person I’d be knowing well enough is Mrs. Brinks. With her running her store and the post office…”
Garland interrupted her with a laugh. “No offence to Mrs. Brinks, who is a lovely lady and very helpful, but unless you don’t mind the whole t-town finding out what you have to say in your letter, you might want to find s-someone else willing to write it for you.” Garland hesitated before he made the offer so out of character for him. “If you like, Miss Flanagan, I’ll be happy to help you with your letter. One thing I can p-promise you is that I will be discreet and not repeat to anyone what you write to your sister. With this office being next to the t-telegraph office, I’m p-privy to a lot of comings and goings by people who expect their business to stay p-private.”
Garland knew his offer to help this woman was somewhat selfishly motivated. Although he spoke the truth regarding not repeating the contents of whatever she asked him to write, he also hoped to satisfy his curiosity. It was not so much that he wanted to know Michael O’Hare’s business, or any gossip about him the sister wanted to pass along. He wondered, what motivated a young woman to leave behind her family and everything she knew to travel thousands of miles to marry a man she had never met except through exchanging letters? If he signed up with this agency in search of a wife, what could he expect? He realized every case was probably different, but why not take the opportunity to get a little more insight into the process?
Besides, the woman before him acted as though she did not notice his stammering. She offered him hope that, if he could convince someone by letter to care for him, once she heard him speak after she met him in person, she might still find him acceptable as a mate. He maintained his professional, helpful expression while he waited for the woman’s response.
“It’s a kind offer, Mr. McAllister. If you’re certain it won’t be inconveniencing you or keeping you from your work…”
Garland shook his head. “The next hour or so is a slow time for me, Miss Flanagan. Assuming your letter is not overly long, I am free to assist you with it.” He gestured toward the door to his small office. “It might be more comfortable for you to join me by my desk next to the heater. For propriety’s sake, I’ll leave the door and ticket window open.”
Garland opened his desk drawer and picked up one of the pencils he kept sharpened. He started to reach for a blank piece of paper until Miss Flanagan handed a pre-folded sheet of plain paper and a blank envelope across to him. He pressed the folds flat and, unsure of how much Annie wished to say, began writing in a small script.
Garland learned more about Mrs. Nighy than he ever wanted to know. He kept a neutral expression as the woman before him raved about Michael O’Hare and what a wonderful husband he would be for Kate. She described in glowing detail the mining company house her sister would move into once she married O’Hare. As far as Garland was concerned, the houses were fine, but nothing like the two-story Victorian in Denver in which he had been raised. He decided the Flanagan family in New York must live in something like the shanties that had sprung up on the outskirts of Denver—like the decrepit cabin he now shared with three slovenly men.
He felt a twinge of competitiveness as she described the stove in the mine housing. Annie promised her sister it was much better than what they had at home. He doubted Mr. Bainbridge purchased stoves nicer than the one in which he had indulged himself, a beauty he kept cleaned and free of rust, which looked entirely out of place in the hovel he called home. As for the kitchen cabinet, he fought back a surge of envy. Right now, he kept his limited food stores in glass canning jars or tins with tight-fitting lids to keep the vermin out. He stacked them in crates by his bed. Unfortunately, his containers did not keep out the vermin of the two-legged variety, so he dared not keep on hand very much of anything his three roommates might consider edible.
It was all Garland could do not to raise an eyebrow as Annie expressed her concern that her sister seemed to favor and might choose a different man, the one who lived in Central City, west of Denver. She assured Kate that O’Hare would be joining her at mass the first Sunday in December, and that she had promised him supper afterward. She shared that she knew Michael had asked for Kate’s hand in marriage. She begged her sister to accept his proposal and join her in Jubilee Springs. Garland refrained from rolling his eyes when Annie promised Kate that she would grow to love him.
Garland suspected Annie had no idea how fortunate she was that she had not shared those tidbits of information with Mr. and Mrs. Brinks. If she had, word of everything in her letter would have spread around Jubilee Springs—not to mention among the crew of Prosperity miners—like wildfire. The couple at the mercantile were not malicious in their gossip—just friendly and chatty. However, he doubted they would have felt the need to refrain from sharing the private business of Annie Flanagan and Michael O’Hare.
Whether or not Kate Flanagan grew to love O’Hare remained to be seen. What Garland began to suspect was that the woman sitting across the desk from him had stronger feelings for O’Hare beyond what one would expect in a prospective sister-in-law.
When Annie stumbled over her description of the weather and its effect on the town, Garland asked if he could write it for her in his own words. Fortunately, what he lacked in verbal skills, he more than made up for in his ability to write well. He began the paragraph with, “Miss Flanagan has asked me, Garland McAllister, to tell you a bit about our weather here in Jubilee Springs…” He also warned Kate, if she did not travel to Colorado soon, the snow in the mountains would make the train schedule unreliable. After he finished the letter, he read it back to Annie. He felt a sense of satisfaction at her approval over his wording.
When the time came to address the envelope, Annie handed over one of Kate’s letters with the return address on
the back of the envelope. Hoping there would be no questions or objections, he wrote out the address on a fresh piece of paper and read it back to her. After her nod of approval, he wrote the address on the envelope. He refolded the paper and slid it inside before he handed the completed letter to Annie. As she accepted it with a wide grin, he admitted to himself, the pretty redhead did have an infectious smile. She wasn’t his type. He also realized if she thought she would be able to live and work in this town without having a multitude of men chasing after her, she would soon discover such was not the case.
“I can’t be thanking you enough for your help, Mr. McAllister.”
“I was happy to be of s-service, Miss Flanagan.” He stood to signal he needed to move on to his next task. “I hope things work out to your liking and your s-sister joins you soon.”
With more words of appreciation, Annie Flanagan rose from her chair and, letter in hand, left his office.
As he watched the woman leave the building and walk past the outside window of his office, he folded the paper containing Katherine Flanagan’s information and shoved it to the back of his desk drawer. Why he kept the woman’s address, he had no idea. He did not understand why he had felt motivated to identify himself as the one who wrote this letter for Annie. Whether it was Michael O’Hare or the other miner in Central City, the young woman would soon be married. Still, a curiosity persisted about why Kate Flanagan would leave all she knew to marry a man, sight unseen.
Garland checked his watch. It was close enough to the noon hour, he decided to go home and start preparing his venison roast. He could be back at the depot in plenty of time to handle any customers who might be expecting someone from Pueblo, Cañon City, or Denver, or who might be traveling to Gunnison. He exchanged his ticket agent coat for his heavy one before he closed and locked the door to his office.
He spotted the three railroad workers from the Denver & Rio Grande construction crew who had come into Jubilee Springs for the weekend. They now dozed on the wooden benches while they waited for the train to take them back to their camp. He knocked on the door to the railroad manager’s office to announce he was leaving and when he planned to return.