Taken by the Muse

by Anne Wheeler

  She opens her sewing bag. Inside, carefully wrapped in an embroidered cloth, is the photo. Beautifully hand-tinted, it reveals a stunning young woman, wearing a heavy woollen dress and shawl, staring straight at the lens. She is strong and confident, with big, wide eyes fringed with long lashes. Her thick red flowing hair is pulled back in waves, tied in ribbon.

  “My goodness, Mrs. Ward! You were a showstopper,” I tease. “He must have been very pleased to see such a beauty!”

  “Yes,” she giggles. “It was the first time I’d ever seen myself, with no mirror of my own. I knew I had good teeth and hair, but nobody had told me, Doris dear, you are a fine-looking woman! I guess I always had my head down, hair wrapped in a scarf, trying not to be noticed. Too many of my friends had started their marriages with a bun in the oven, and I swore that my life would be different from theirs. And this was my chance.”

  “So when Mr. Ward got the picture, I presume he agreed that you would suit him just fine.”

  She carefully puts the picture back in the box and continues.

  “Yes, he liked what he saw. In good order, he sent me the money for passage. I sailed from Cork, knowing I would never be back. And it was awful, a bloody awful boat. I was in the cursed bottom, wet and mucky the whole time.”

  “Seasick?”

  “Oh yes. We all were. Miserable. But I did have some admirers on the boat, oh yes. One young fellow snuck me up to first class — even proposed marriage! There were far more men than women, of course — but I didn’t alter my course. I was going to marry Matthew Ward, have a big family, and prosper in the New World! Ha!” She shakes her head, acknowledging the irony, unable to hide some bitterness.

  “So, then you landed in Halifax, and took a train across the country?”

  “Yes. What a long but glorious journey that was — the country, so new and untouched. I loved it. It took almost a week. By the time I reached Calgary, I had heard enough to give me pause. One couple that got on in Manitoba had decided to quit after two years of hardship. Such a sad pair they were, having lost two children. They advised me to turn around and go straight back home. Others were heading further west, across the mountains to the coast where the weather was not so harsh. There were several sweet young men amongst them ... I could have joined them, but no. When we pulled into the Calgary station, I got off.”

  “And what was Cowtown Calgary like in those days?” I ask.

  “It didn’t look too bad. Actually, quite beautiful. You could see to the mountains that day ... but the mud! Mixed in with the manure! Oh my.”

  “And was he there?”

  “Oh yes, he was there, waiting with a horse and wagon full of provisions. I heard him calling out my name, and then I saw him as he pushed through the crowd to get to me. I should have known then that he was not a true gentleman, as he embraced me long and hard, right in front of everybody, pushing himself against me, holding me in a way that was — too familiar.

  “I’d never been hugged like that before ... by a man. But I managed to convince myself that his behaviour was exceptional. He had waited a long time for my arrival and was overcome with anticipation. My bigger complaint was that he was filthy. His hair was stiff with sweat and dust, combed right back. He had dressed up some, his clothes looked new, but he smelled like — a slop pail left too long.”

  The disgusting memory stops her momentarily. She takes a sip of her tea.

  “Had you seen a picture of him?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No, I had not. He was a lot older than I imagined, close to forty, I guessed ... tall and very thin. Truthfully, I was disappointed. He saw it in my face. I was sorry I could not conceal my reaction, but no matter. He had not made much of an effort and I was put off.”

  “You must have thought of running.”

  “I would’ve. But he took me directly to the church and he paid the minister flat out to marry us right there and then. The minister was annoyed by Matthew’s impatience and his stench. He asked me directly if I was sure I had given my consent enough thought. Even he could not believe that I had chosen to marry this man.

  “What could I do? No money. No options. I had given my word and he’d paid for my ticket. I reassured the minister that I was doing this willingly. So then he insisted that Matthew and I go to the local rest house where we could have a meal as well as a bath.”

  “Good for him! You must have been relieved —”

  “It annoyed Matthew who said it was ‘a waste of time and money,’ but I was thankful. I didn’t smell like a spring rose either, having been in the same clothes for weeks. And, once Matthew dressed up, he was a handsome man in a wild kind of way — a bit wolfish, but nevertheless fit.”

  “So you went back to the church that day?”

  “And again, the minister was uneasy, asking me questions I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know where we were going. I didn’t even know Matthew’s middle name. He offered us a room, and again suggested that I could do better. ‘If I were so lucky to find such a fine wife, I’d be sure she was rested and content after such a long journey,’ he said, implying for certain that he was single!

  “He was a good-looking younger man. That he was. And Matthew saw that he was tempting me. He got angry, frightening actually, and demanded that we begin the proceedings immediately. So we did.

  “I have imagined a million times what would have happened if I had refused Matthew that day. But it was beyond my imagination then. The plan had been set. After the brief ceremony, even though the sun was going down, we headed out of the city.”

  “Knowing he was a difficult man ...”

  “Not just difficult. He was insanely jealous, possessive. Unpredictable. Possibly dangerous. He was more than one person really. He could be reasonable, and smart, even charming ... singing like the world was his kingdom and dancing funny, making me laugh, when boom! — his mood would shift. Suddenly, he’d be crying, ‘The whole world is against me. The house will never be built. It’s all too much work. I hate everybody. Can’t trust anybody — especially you!’ Then the next day, he’d be back again, dreaming of the house he was going to build.”

  “How far were you from Calgary?”

  “It was a two-day walk. About sixty miles. We didn’t get very far that first night. I asked a lot of questions, but he was in his own head, pouting. After a couple of hours, we stopped. I was terrified. Not just of him but of what might be out there in the wild. I’d never lived in the country. I was used to the city — buildings, noise, and people. He made a fire and I started a meal. He stopped working and watched me for a time. Then, out of the blue, he said, ‘Take off your clothes!’ Just like that! ‘Take them off! I want to see what I got.’”

  The memory embarrasses her even now, and she fusses with her buttons. I try to catch up with my notes and give her a minute to flush out the humiliation she still feels.

  “I had never been with a man, never seen a man naked,” she confesses. “I knew that in marriage I would have to let him ‘satisfy himself,’ but it wasn’t clear to me what that meant. Nothing had ever been explained to me, in plain English. I assumed that it would come naturally, that it would be romantic and sweet.

  “At first I refused, but the more I fought him, the more excited he became. I broke away and ran into the darkness, into the bush — but I stumbled and he fell upon me. When he started to tear at my new blouse, I became very angry. I yelled at him to stop — I’d do what he wanted. It was going to happen anyway. And nobody would know. Nobody would care. Anything I did would make it worse. So I succumbed and went limp.

  “It was awkward and unpleasant. Mercifully, he made quick work of it and was pleased with himself. He took out his harmonica and started to play while I cooked. And I thought, ‘Well maybe that’s it then. We just had to get that over with and now we can get on.’” She goes quiet, and takes a sip of tea, like she is trying to swallow the anger that keeps bubbling up.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I mutter, fe
eling ineffective.

  “Oh, that was just the beginning,” she says in a hushed voice. “Forgive me for being so indiscreet, but I remember it ever so vividly.”

  “Please take your time....”

  She poured more tea. “I know, people talk about ‘the settlers, the salt of the earth, the hard-working, God-fearing, honest and loving people’ like you see on television, on Bonanza — but the truth is, many of us were out in the middle of bloody nowhere, unprotected, living a nightmare. The nice ladies with comfortable parlours were having tea, talking about getting the vote — for themselves and other nice ladies.

  “History, Miss Wheeler, is always about the successful and the charming folks who have their pictures in the paper. History is what people want to remember, when it should be about what we shouldn’t forget. Many settlers were shattered by the experience. Broken. Matthew was already cracked when I met him.

  “So, that first night he had his way with me over and over, like a cat with an injured mouse. When he was finished with me, I tried to get away, but he caught me and tied me up. I was bruised from head to foot, and covered with the smell of him. In the morning, he put me in the back of the wagon — but I managed to bite him hard. Infuriated that I had hurt him, he whipped the poor horse all the way home, as though now it was her fault. We were less than two days wed, and both of us were in a rage.

  “The following afternoon, we pulled up to his godforsaken place. A herd of bony cattle rambled toward us, hoping to be fed. There was no house, no barn. A wee granary was tucked away in the soggy bushes, maybe eight by ten feet but no more. And this shack was to be my home.”

  “Oh no!” I groan.

  “Well, it was never a home — it was more like a cage, a place to keep me locked up so I wouldn’t run away. Inside, there was a wee stove, a straw bed on the floor, and a trunk that served as a table, pushed up against the wall. It was worse than a barn really, with no windows, no place to wash up, only a bucket. There wasn’t even a well, just a slough in the summer and melted snow in the winter.

  “I learned that the way to stay safe was to please him in every way I could. I had to be smart because, even though he was a bit loony, he was not dim-witted. In fact, he was very clever. For instance, he planned every detail of this house he was going to build, the biggest and best house you could imagine, placed precisely on a hill according to which way the wind would blow in the coldest of times ... and where the sun would be each month of the year, with windows taking full advantage of the view. He wanted to see the sun come up in the morning through the kitchen windows. And there would be a grand, deep porch on the west side so he could sit and watch it set. Even I took pleasure in imagining how grand it would be.

  “I worked hard, not just gardening and cooking, but also in the fields. I became his beast of burden, clearing the land, pulling out stumps, gathering large rocks for the foundation of this magnificent house.

  “And yes, there were moments of wonder. The land, so untamed, so changeable, gave me a sense of being at one with the universe, with God. I loved to watch the night sky as it rotated perfectly every night. Matthew knew all the constellations and changes in the moon; I learned a lot from him. But he would never let me out of his sight.”

  “What about neighbours?” I ask.

  “We had no neighbours. Sometimes I saw smoke rising from far away. You see, there were no roads yet. In fact, you had to cross a good-sized creek to get to our place. No one knew I was there, of course, except for some Indians maybe. I never saw them. Matthew told me they were very dangerous, so I always stayed out of sight and had a gun near me. Of course, that was just another one of Matthew’s games to keep me put.

  “In the summer, Matthew went to town on Saturdays — leaving me locked up in the shack. Usually he came back all cleaned up and cheerful. I didn’t ask any questions about what he did or whom he saw. I was glad enough to be left alone.

  “We harvested ten acres the first year — finishing just before winter set in. He was caught up hunting and butchering, while I filled the cellar, which we had dug into the side of the hill, with root vegetables for the winter.

  “By November, I knew I was pregnant. When I told him, he was thrilled, assuming it was a boy of course. I didn’t mind. Suddenly I was precious, carrying his wee prince. He went to town and bought a large tub for bathing, and ordered in a bed. I was convinced that the worst was over. Life would keep getting better and better.

  “Trouble was, neither of us knew anything about making babies — how long it took, or what to do when the baby came. Matthew knew that a dog took two months, a sheep four, a horse eleven. Our logic was that a human would take longer. Can you imagine?”

  “Was there a doctor in town, or a midwife?”

  “Well, I didn’t know of one, of course. He planned to go into town before Christmas and I begged him to take me with him, so I might talk to another woman about what was happening. How should I prepare? What should I expect? I was huge and could feel the baby moving inside of me. But he kept saying that we didn’t need anyone; that the birth would take care of itself. He wasn’t going to bring someone out here for something that should come natural.

  “He left for town, with me locked up as usual, so I wouldn’t ‘do anything foolish.’ Later that day, it started to snow. I got a fire going and could hear the storm blowing outside. I figured that I would be locked up for a long time if the weather got worse and he couldn’t get back. The cows came in close, looking for shelter.

  “It was a surprise to me, when suddenly my clothing was wet and a sharp pain brought me to my knees. For a time, I lay on the floor, thinking it would happen quickly. But it didn’t, and I started to get cold and weak. I got out of my wet clothes, and put all of the blankets and rags I had onto the bed.

  “The fire went out, but I could not fix it. For hours, I was in labour, until the pains came one after the other, as they do, and I lost control. I called out for mercy. I thought I was going to die.

  “Finally, I felt the baby’s head, pushing through me and out. I was so tired, I could hardly muster any strength. I felt the release of its shoulders and a gush of fluids. Once I got my breath, I reached down and pulled the baby free from my body. It was limp and blue and I thought it was dead. I gave it a little shake and its dark little eyes opened and looked straight into mine. It was like this wee soul had miraculously arrived from the unknown, to give me strength. I will never forget that moment. Ever. It was the last thing that happened before I passed out.

  “Matthew got home and found us there, wrapped up together, under the mess of blankets. I woke up with him pulling them back, pushing me away and trying to get a look. The baby started to cry. ‘A goddamned girl.’ That’s what he said. ‘A goddamned girl!’

  “He didn’t want to have anything to do with her. Or me. He did cut the cord and took the ‘stinking mess,’ as he called it, out to the pig. I’m sure the pig was happy about that, but I thought it was a wicked thing to do.

  “When he came back inside, he was morose and started to drink. I got up, made a fire, cleaned myself up as best I could, and then went back to bed.”

  “And the baby?”

  “Margaret was her name, but she was called Maggie right from the start. She was perfect in every way, and began to suck eagerly once she got a taste of my juice. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her — amazed that I had brought this darling dear dolly into the world. I wanted to tell someone, to show her off, you know? But I had no one to tell. I had written a letter to my brother, but nothing came back. In a way, the baby and I didn’t exist. At night, I would lie in the dark and think — there must be other women like me, all over the world. Alone and forgotten.”

  “I don’t know how you could bear it, boxed up in that cold dark place, in the winter. I would have gone mad.”

  “Aye. We rarely spoke. The snow was constant. He didn’t talk to me, but he talked to the Almighty constantly. And he was convinced that he was one of God’s chosen — that he
could hear God’s voice inside his head and that he could read my mind. Ha! It wasn’t too hard to read my mind. I had but one thought and that was ‘How can I get away from him?’”

  “Did he ... hit you?”

  “Oh ... yes. Like I was just another animal — he smacked me as a matter of course, whenever he was displeased. That was a given. I confess I might have thought of doing him some harm, while he was sleeping, given the circumstances. Oh yes ... I thought about that a lot. But a wounded bear is more dangerous than a sleeping bear. I decided that my kitchen knife was not long enough.” She laughs bitterly at the memory.

  “But then, one day, soon after he’d gotten back from his usual trip to town, I found a penny in the lining of his coat. I hid it in my rags. A few weeks later, I found a nickel in the wagon, caught between the floorboards. I saw him counting his money. He knew he was short, and I watched him looking all over, confused. He accused me of stealing, but I played dumb. I figured I would need at least three dollars, a lot of money at the time, to get myself and the baby on a train and away.

  “I tried to be patient, but by midsummer I was pregnant again. With a hopeful heart, Matthew added a shed to the shack so we’d have room for a crib. The child came in February. It was another girl. Again, I delivered it alone and thought I was going to die. But I didn’t. I was better prepared and tougher this time. I had a better sense of what had to be done and it was easier.

  “I was his slave now, for I would do anything to protect my babies. He made ridiculous demands — some of them disgusting. He resented having to provide for the three of us. I was losing weight and feeling weak, but still he was determined to have a son.

  “We were living on so little that I didn’t think I would survive another delivery on my own. So — I hope you don’t find this offensive — I started to stuff myself down there with rags. Rags soaked in different things, like rhubarb juice, lye soap, or vinegar. Something must have worked because the babies stopped coming. He wouldn’t leave me alone, but I didn’t get pregnant.