Mail Order Roslyn

by Zina Abbott

  ~o0o~

  The one thing about there being no ceiling and the space above the rafter beams being open from the front of the building to the back was that, although Mrs. Peterson and Roslyn kept the volume of their voices at a normal conversational level, the building, with its thick walls to block out outside noise, was quiet enough that Elam heard most of what had been said. He wondered if the men who worked here were aware that when they were in the bunkroom, their voices carried over the top of the wall to their boss or his wife on the other side.

  So, Roslyn had not come by her baby by being married a short time. She had not been romantically involved with someone and gotten caught in a compromising position. She had not sold her body to make ends meet. She had been attacked and raped. He mused over that information and the fact that, instead of rejecting her child, she loved it fiercely. She sacrificed for the baby, even to the point of putting herself into unpleasant situations in order to provide for her.

  Elam had not seriously pictured himself ever getting married, especially once he left home to fight in the war. Even after he realized he managed to live through the war, with most of his left leg gone, he could not see any woman considering him as husband material. Men who lost limbs or carried other battle scars and went home to families, they often picked up where they left off the best they could. Men like Elam had no home to go to. He lived with a visible reminder of a war no one wished to think about any longer. Although he still was capable of doing many kinds of work, people were often reluctant to hire someone who might be too limited to do the full job. In spite of the shortage of men in most places, for over a year, he had already dealt with the difficulties of finding a permanent work.

  As for the part of the conversation about Roslyn working as Ross, he certainly was not pleased to hear she intended to follow through on that. One thing he knew, the men would give her no peace about it. Eustace, especially, had only one use for a woman, and it had nothing to do with respect or wishing to marry and raise a family. The fact that Roslyn had let him know right from the start she had no intention of satisfying any of the men’s sexual appetites put her in Eustace’s sights. He would throw a fit when she turned up as Ross.

  Like everyone else at the station, Roslyn needed a paying job to buy things for her baby. Men could be hired as stock tenders. As for women, even in a home station like this where men brought their families, the wives were expected to provide meals and clean the stations although their “pay” was built into the salary of her husbands as stationmasters. There was no such thing as a paying job for an assistant to the stationmaster’s wife.

  Elam knew he had his work cut out for him. Keeping the people and animals in the station safe now meant seeing to it that Eustace allowed Roslyn, using the name of Ross on the pay records, to tend stock with a minimum of trouble.

  ~o0o~

  Before she knew it, Roslyn heard the men holler outside and the gate screech open. The familiar sounds of horses in harness and wheels braked to a stop floated through the closed door.

  Caroline hurried over to the stove to put her last tray of biscuits into the oven. “Wait before you open the door and let them in, Roslyn. I like the dust to settle first.”

  Soon, the driver, messenger, one passenger, and Isaac walked through the door.

  While Isaac traded news and trail conditions with the two men who worked for the B.O.D., Roslyn set plates of food on the table as fast as Caroline dished them up.

  Two more passengers joined the group, and Isaac made introductions.

  Roslyn nodded in response to being introduced, but otherwise she discouraged conversation. She sensed too much curiosity and interest from the men, particularly from the driver.

  Much to her chagrin, the driver who started at Big Creek Station, Fergus Bixby, stayed at the table during the second seating. After the passengers, Danny, and Isaac left, he continued to visit with the three stock tenders. He met Elam, who came in from sleeping all morning in the bunkroom after spending the night staying awake and patrolling the station. The entire time, his gaze followed Roslyn’s every move.

  Eustace, Jim, and Tom returned to work. The new messenger who rode with Fergus, Gunter Schiller, flopped on the bench by the east window to read a newspaper. With only Elam and Fergus still at the table, Fergus began to ask Roslyn a host of questions about who she was and her position there. Roslyn kept some answers short and ignored several questions entirely.

  Fortunately, Caroline helped answer some and deflect others.

  Upon hearing the squawks signaling Emmy had awakened, both Roslyn and Caroline looked toward the bedroom. They knew she would not be happy for long without some attention.

  Caroline turned to Roslyn. “I’ll change her so she’s ready for you to hold her.”

  Roslyn stood closer to Elam than Fergus as she cleared the last of the dishes. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I have dishes to scrape before I leave the room.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “I have a baby to take care of.”

  “Sounds like Mrs. Peterson is doing fine.” Fergus reached out to Roslyn.

  She angled her arm away to keep him from grabbing it.

  “I never got a clear answer, Mrs. Welsh. What are your plans when you leave here?”

  Roslyn shook her head as she turned her back to the room. None of your business. “I don’t have any definite plans, Mr. Bixby. I was invited to stay here for a several weeks to help out Mrs. Peterson and…and…” She huffed in frustration and turned toward the dry sink. “That is what I’m doing.” He doesn’t need to know about Ross.

  “There are ways you could help me out, Mrs. Welsh.”

  Her face flaming bright red, Roslyn spun around to face Fergus Bixby.

  The man offered a leering grin.

  From his seat on the bench with his back propped up against the wall, the messenger watched the scene, his newspaper dropped in his lap and forgotten.

  The click of a pistol hammer being cocked filled the room. Elam Stewart now held his revolver pointed at the driver for the Big Creek to Ellsworth run.

  Roslyn closed her eyes for a second to give herself time to decide how to respond. I have to handle this myself, or the man will give me trouble every time he comes here. She clenched her back teeth and hoped her voice came out sounding as cold as she felt. “Mr. Bixby, you are fortunate I am not holding the coffee pot. A comment like that directed at me usually earns a man a hot cup of coffee in his face.”

  Fergus narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  With one hand, Roslyn reached for a cup from the stack of used dishes and, grabbing a wad of apron with the other, she picked up the coffee pot. She stared at Fergus through the rising steam as she poured coffee into the cup. “Try me, Mr. Bixby. I don’t find such talk flattering or amusing, and I refuse to tolerate it.”

  “You heard her, Bixby. Reckon she’s got an apology coming.”

  Fergus continued to watch Roslyn, his gaze shifting between her face and the cup of coffee. “What’s it to you, Stewart? You fancy this woman for yourself?”

  Silence filled the room for a second. And then another second before Elam responded. “Just doing the job Mr. Peterson hired me on for—protecting these women. Figured, at first, he was talking about the Cheyenne and Arapaho. Looking more like the hostiles are inside this here station.”

  Fergus jerked around to stare, first at Elam, and second, at the pistol in his hand. “Hold on, now. I’m just being sociable.”

  “No, you was being insulting to Mrs. Welsh, and I ain’t heard no apology yet.”

  “I’m waiting also, Mr. Bixby. Mrs. Welsh is here as my guest.”

  Aware Caroline had reentered the room carrying a fussy Emmy, Roslyn relaxed her arms.

  Fergus inhaled as he straightened his back. He faced Roslyn once more. “My apologies, Mrs. Welsh. I meant no harm.”

  “Apology accepted, Mr. Bixby.” Then, feeling her milk let down, she quickly set the cup and pot on the dry sink an
d rushed to claim her daughter. She entered the privacy of the bedroom and her fingers fumbled to release the buttons on her calico dress. Through the partially open door, she heard Caroline address the driver.

  “Mr. Bixby, my husband will not be happy to hear that you have come into our station and insulted one of our personal guests. If it happens again, in the future, you will be asked to stay out of this room until your departure time. Please pass the word up and down the line—that’s how it is at the Ellsworth station.”

  “Won’t happen again, Mrs. Peterson.”

  The sound of a wooden bench scraping against the hard dirt floor reached Roslyn’s ears.

  “Figure my time is best spent socializing in Ellsworth.”

  “If that is what you wish, Mr. Bixby. My husband has asked Mr. Stewart to see to it the gate is locked for the night once the sun goes down, and it stays that way. Please be back before then or plan to return in the morning.”

  Seated on the stool in the Peterson bedroom while she nursed Emmy, Roslyn heard nothing more until the door opened and slammed shut. Next, she looked up as Caroline’s soft footsteps entered the room.

  “Roslyn, I watched out the window. Mr. Bixby seems to be talking to the men while they work rather than walking into Ellsworth. Perhaps today would not be the best day for you to introduce the men to Ross. I think, if I were you, I’d wait until you only have Eustace to deal with.”

  .

  .

  .

  .

  Chapter 10

  ~o0o~

  May 4, 1866

  T he next day, immediately following the noon meal, Fergus Bixby, Gunter Schiller, and one passenger that had arrived from the East boarded the stagecoach and left traveling west. Roslyn felt like the inside of the station grew lighter. Even Eustace did not seem as obnoxious in comparison to Fergus.

  She helped Caroline clean the last of the dishes from the noon meal. As she watched the men outside toss hay up from an underground cellar, she bounced a wide-awake Emmy in her arms. She turned to Caroline. “I’ve never seen anyone store hay and grain for the animals in the ground before.”

  “It’s to discourage the natives from trying to destroy the feed by sending flaming arrows over the wall to catch everything on fire. I understand the stations farther west are built so part, if not all, of the structures are underground, including where they keep the livestock. They even have guard stations in underground pits covered with large slabs of rock resting about a foot above ground braced by sections of cut logs. Everything is connected by tunnels.”

  Roslyn shivered. “That doesn’t appeal to me at all.”

  Caroline shook her head. “No, me neither. I’m relieved Isaac did not agree to accept one of those stations. This one is far enough on the frontier for me. At least here, we have the fort nearby.”

  Noticing that Emmy watched her face, Roslyn held out a finger for her daughter to grasp. Next, she leaned forward and rubbed her nose on the baby’s face to coax a smile. “When Emmy first started to smile, my aunt insisted it was nothing more than gas. I think she can now smile when she chooses to.”

  Caroline paused and canted her head as she studied Emmy. “I think you’re right. The baby seems to be doing well here, and she certainly is happy with you playing with her. I hope you realize she’s reached an age where she will start staying awake for longer periods of time.”

  “I thought that might be the case.” Roslyn swallowed and looked away. “As soon as she falls asleep again, I need to change clothes so I can go out there and come to an understanding with Eustace. One of the problems with her growing older is she is going to need bigger clothes soon. I have to earn the money for fabric so I can make them.” She ignored Caroline’s sigh.

  “I know you are determined to work with the animals, Roslyn. I’ll help you all I can with Eustace if he gives you too bad of a time.”

  “That’s just it, Caroline. I have to work things out with him on my own. If I don’t, he will never leave me in peace.”

  Caroline waited several seconds before she responded. “If that is how you want it. I’ll probably sit on the bed with my leg up to rest my knee until it’s time for supper. I’ll keep an eye on Emmy.”

  ~o0o~

  Without a mirror in the storeroom where she changed, Roslyn didn’t know what her hair looked like after she braided it and pinned it to the top of her head by feel. No one but Caroline was in that part of the building, but she still kept the door barely cracked open as she changed. She walked out of the closet that served as her and Emmy’s room—where she and the baby slept when Isaac was home. The nights he was gone, Caroline insisted she and the baby shared the bed with her.

  After inspecting the slouch hat that had been crushed in her carpetbag, she used her fist to beat some semblance of shape into the crown. The brim drooped over one eye in an annoying fashion, but she would have to live with it for now. She carefully placed it on her head so it covered the long strands pulled up into the braid. She walked out into the main room.

  “So, this is Ross. You are determined to do this?”

  Roslyn nodded. “Yes. No time like the present to get started.” She patted the knife she now wore on the outside of her trousers, took a deep breath, and walked through the door.

  Once outside, Roslyn scanned the yard. She viewed it with a different perspective now she would be working there. At this point, the livestock—four mules and three horses that she could see—were in the corral at the far end of the station from the gate. Movement caught her eye, and she jerked her gaze to the opening of the cellar where the hay was stored in time to see a clump come flying out and land on the ground.

  Jim scooped it up with a pitchfork and dumped it over the corral wall.

  Inside the wall, Eustace moved among the animals—some of which bunched up under the shade of the pole barn while the others milled around in the sun.

  Elam worked with a pitchfork at the opposite end of the corral from the shade cover.

  Roslyn walked toward the wood gate that led to the inside of the corral.

  Eustace lifted his head and focused his gaze on her. He propped his pitchfork against the corral wall and walked toward her. “What you think you’re doing out here?”

  “The job I was hired for, Eustace.”

  Eustace widened his stance and folded his arms. “Look here, Mrs. Welsh…”

  Roslyn cut him off. “When I’m out here dressed like this, you call me Ross.”

  Eustace huffed and shook his head. “Ross, huh? You think you can put on men’s britches and walk out here and do a man’s work? I say no. Go back inside the station.”

  Roslyn shook her head. “I intend to do my job. Inside, what I do to help Mrs. Peterson covers my room and board. Out here, helping take care of the stock, this is how I earn a wage.” She glanced around.

  Tom had stopped pitching hay and now stood on the other side of the corral, his forearms resting on top.

  Even Jim, who had been down in the hay cellar. had come up to see what was happening.

  Without turning around, Roslyn knew Elam had walked over and stood several feet behind her. “Isaac is only paying for two days a week, but he hired me to take care of the hooves and groom the animals—make sure they’re in good health. I’ve done a lot of farrier work, Eustace.”

  His eyes tightening into a squint, Eustace leaned forward. “Now you’re trying to tell me you do blacksmithing and shoeing? I don’t buy it. Besides, they have two blacksmiths at Big Creek Station to take care of all that.”

  Roslyn shook her head. “My pa never let me try smithy work. He hired it out. However, I helped clean and trim hooves and could tighten a shoe or, if a horse lost one, put a new one on, as long as we had one that fit. I can do this job, Eustace, and do it well.”

  ~o0o~

  Elam stopped shoveling horse apples and walked over until he stood only a couple of feet behind Roslyn. From the start, he suspected she would receive this kind of reception if she tried to work
with the stock. “I done seen her work, Eustace. She knows what she’s doing.”

  Roslyn spun around to face him, the movement causing her feminine form to stand out like a fireball on a moonless night. Wearing them bindings across her chest don’t hide much. Elam watched her lift her chin. She knows I know it was her at Henry Williams’s livery now, certain.

  Elam shifted his gaze to Eustace as the man straightened his back and glared at him. “How do you know? I thought you two met on the trip out.”

  The surge of desire to protect Roslyn urged Elam to step in front of her. A saner part of him warned him that, to avoid trouble with both Eustace and Roslyn, he should stand by her side instead. His gaze still focused on Eustace, Elam shook his head. “Day before we come here, she showed up at Williams’s livery where I done worked before Isaac hired me on. Most the afternoon, she worked with two horses, running them, then grooming them. She tended them hooves right smart.”

  Eustace clenched his fists and puffed his chest out as he turned slightly and leaned toward Elam. “What makes you such an expert on taking care of horses?”

  Elam shrugged. “Grew up on a farm. Rode cavalry for the better part of four years. Worked livery on and off after. Been around horses for a spell.”

  Eustace threw his hands in the air. “Fine!” He pointed at Roslyn. “You want to work as a stock tender, then you do what I say. Go down in the hole and start tossing up hay for this evening’s feed.” He pointed to the outside wall of the station compound. “Then you can pitch the horse…ah…manure over that wall there.” He shook his head and grumbled. “We can’t even talk freely if we have to be in the presence of a woman.”

  Involuntarily, Elam’s lips twitched. Eustace tried to blame Roslyn because her presence would discourage the men from allowing the vulgarities they were prone to using from being part of their conversation.

  Roslyn shook her head. “No, I won’t, Eustace. Isaac and I agreed on specifics, and he said he would go over them with you. That’s all I’m going to do.”