Mail Order Roslyn

by Zina Abbott

  Elam agreed with her. There was no need for her to take on the dirty jobs that required more muscle than skill. “I done got the mucking job covered, Eustace. Ain’t no need her doing it.”

  “Stay out of this, Stewart.” With one hand, Eustace tore his hat from his head and slapped it against the side of his leg. With his other hand, he raked his hair. “I don’t like this. I’m either in charge of this station while Isaac’s gone, or I’m not. I don’t want a woman dressed like a man coming out here whenever she pleases and take on a man’s job.”

  Elam narrowed his eyes. He had heard enough talk since he arrived to know what Eustace really objected to was having the one woman he considered available let it be known she was not willing to cater to the men to satisfy their carnal desires. Eustace would entertain himself with her, but in the end, let her go. He turned his head and squinted as he studied the brilliance of the sky over the station wall. I’d never let her go, but with this here wooden leg, ain’t no chance of her choosing me to start off with. He once again turned his attention to Roslyn.

  ~o0o~

  Furious at Eustace’s words, Roslyn placed her hands on her hips and jutted her chin forward. I’m so angry, I’d bet my face is beyond looking like a spring radish. “These are work clothes, Eustace. What I do is not a man’s job. Many women who live on farms do what I do, just not for pay. I’m not going to wear my Sunday best while I’m working with the animals.” I don’t have any Sunday best, but that’s beside the point. “I know you don’t like the authority Isaac gave you challenged, and I’m not trying to do that. Even if it’s only part of what he pays the rest of you, just let me do what Isaac hired me to do so I can provide for Emmy.”

  “But why dressed as a man? That’s not natural.”

  Roslyn glanced around at the men whose collective attention remained glued to what took place. She needed to end this. “I’m sorry if my work clothes offend your Southern gentleman sensibilities, Eustace. But, tell me this—have you ever tried to hold a forelock in place to clean a hoof while wearing a wide skirt?” She waited for the snickers to subside. “Doesn’t appeal to you? Me, either. Skirts can get tangled up faster than you can blink. Out here, especially, where we work in the open instead of in a barn, the wind can whip a skirt around like a sail. I work more efficiently dressed this way. If you don’t like it, don’t look at me.” Roslyn removed her knife from its sheath. “Now, please step aside. I need to start if I’m going to earn my pay.”

  Eustace burst into a taunting laugh. “You think you can threaten me with that puny little knife? Don’t try to take me on, lady. Or Ross—whoever you think you are.”

  Roslyn glanced at Elam who had taken another halting step forward. I’m grateful one man here has my back. She straightened to her full height and, wide-eyed, offered Eustace her most innocent expression. She spoke in the sweetest voice she could manage. “I’m not trying to take you on, Eustace. I use my knife to trim the hooves.” She broke her gaze and looked off to the side as she dropped one hip into a slouch. “I could use a hoof pick, too, if you’ve got one. Just tell me where it is, and I’ll find it.”

  Tom called out. “I’ll get it.” He turned toward the sod shack opposite the main station building.

  “Reckon you might want to start on that light dun mare with the small star. She’s been favoring her right front hoof some.”

  Roslyn felt a comforting warmth envelop her when Elam leaned close to speak in her ear. A tremble of awareness coursed through her as his breath brushed against the skin of her cheek. She turned to him with a smile and nodded. “Thank you. I’ll check her first.”

  “This is not over, Mrs. Welsh. For one thing, I refuse to call you by a man’s name.”

  Roslyn returned her attention to Eustace, whose face had flushed with either heat or anger. “If that is what you prefer, Eustace. I only need to be Ross on the work records so the company will pay me without any questions asked. And, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t plan to be here forever. Once I get enough together for a ticket to someplace else where Emmy and I can start over, I’ll go.”

  Tom ran to the spot by the corral fence closest to Roslyn. “Here’s the horse pick, Mrs. Welsh…uh, I mean…Ross.”

  Roslyn stepped over and reached for it. “Thank you, Tom. I’ll concede to Eustace’s wishes regarding the name. You may continue to call me Mrs. Welsh. But, to any outsiders, my name is Ross.” She faced Eustace once more. “Look at it this way. Any work I do, it is less for the rest of you to do.”

  As he turned away, Eustace shook his head and grumbled. “Like any of these men are going to get much done with a woman wearing men’s trousers walking around the station.” Eustace waved his arms at Jim and Tom. “Back to work, you lazy louts. Show’s over. Wait until Beelzebub shows up here again. We’ll see how long she lasts.”

  Roslyn raised her eyebrows. Beelzebub? Who’s Beelzebub? She turned to Elam, who had pivoted on his good leg to return to what he was doing. “Mr. Stewart—Elam. Thank you for standing up for me. I know it’s unconventional, but I truly do prefer to do this kind of work rather than get paid pennies for mending clothes or washing laundry, or…well, I won’t do that.”

  Elam turned his upper body back and nodded. “Pleased to help out, ma’am. Only told them what I seen. And, no, ain’t no need to lower yourself to get by.”

  For the rest of the afternoon, Roslyn ignored the men as much as possible while she worked on checking hooves and grooming the horses. She made a point to watch how she bent over, keeping a horse between her and the men’s lines of sight whenever she could.

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  Chapter 11

  ~o0o~

  R oslyn had almost finished currying the last horse, the dark bay mare, when Caroline came outside with a complaining Emmy.

  Tom walked over to her. “I’ll finish up on this one so you can take care of the baby.”

  Roslyn handed him the brush. “Thank you. This mare is a sweetheart. What’s her name?”

  Tom shrugged. “We don’t really name them. They come, and they go. This one we try to keep around because she’s so even-tempered—doesn’t resist at all when we use her for hauling water caskets up the creek bank.”

  “Hmm.” Roslyn canted her head as she studied the horse. “She looks like a Josie to me. I’ll call her Josie.” She patted the mare’s withers. “Be good for Tom, Josie-girl.”

  As Roslyn approached Caroline and the baby, Emmy’s cries eased, and she waved her arms. Roslyn leaned over and kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Let Ma wash up really quick, Emmy, and I’ll feed you.”

  Later, at the supper table, Roslyn sat next to Caroline on the bench closest to the stove. The talk remained rather subdued throughout the meal, especially after Eustace snapped at the men several times. Roslyn chose to ignore the tension with the hope that, after a few days, once the men became accustomed to her working in the corral, the fervor and the novelty over her being there would die down.

  Once she realized the men had almost consumed the food on their plates, she rose and brought over the dried apple cobbler she and Caroline made that morning. She had been at the station long enough to hear snide references from some of the drivers regarding how fed up they and passengers alike were with being served dried apple pies while traveling. However, Caroline did not make it for every meal, and Roslyn noticed the stock tenders enthusiastically dished servings onto their plates.

  Eustace ate one bite and turned to Caroline. “Good cobbler, Mrs. Peterson. My compliments to the cook.”

  A mumbled chorus of appreciation followed.

  “You’re welcome, gentlemen. Mrs. Welsh also helped.”

  Eustace grunted and scooped up a second bite and had it almost to his mouth. He set his fork back on his plate. He turned to confront Roslyn. “Speaking of her helping, we still have unfinished business between us, Mrs. Welsh. I know we got the issue of the name settled.” He shook his head. “Where did y
ou come up with the name Ross, anyway?”

  “It’s my brother’s name. These are his old clothes.”

  “Hasn’t it occurred to you he might not want you wearing his old clothes and using his name?” Eustace’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Roslyn blinked and swallowed. Please don’t get me crying over Ross. She choked out her words. “No, he won’t mind. I made these clothes for him, but he gave them back to me after he outgrew them. He’s—he’s not where he would care about me using his name.”

  “Mrs. Welsh, you said your brother outgrew them. Was he older than you?”

  Roslyn glanced at Tom, who had asked the question, and shook her head. “He and I were twins. Growing up, we did everything together, including helping our pa with his livery business. As he got older and stronger, he did more of the heavy work. Pa insisted I had a gentler hand with the animals than Ross did, plus a better knack of knowing if a horse had a problem that needed tending. We…we made a good team.”

  Caroline canted her head. “Did you two look anything alike?”

  Roslyn turned and smiled at Caroline. “Yes. Although I know not all twins look alike, we both had the same color hair. His eyes were blue instead of greenish, like mine. For a couple of years, I was taller than he was. Then, when he turned fifteen, he shot up until he had several inches on me. When you see me in the trousers, it’s pretty much what Ross looked like about five or six years ago.”

  “Ma’am, you talk like he’s in the past.”

  Upon hearing the hesitation in Tom’s voice, Roslyn closed her eyes. “He is. After Quantrill’s Raiders descended on Lawrence looking for James Lane, the governor put out the call for men to join the volunteers to hunt down and destroy the bushwhackers. General Lane escaped that attack, but my uncle and cousin, Monroe, were among the more than one hundred and fifty men and older boys rounded up and murdered by Quantrill and his men. Ross felt that, since the attack ended the lives of two of our family, he was honor-bound to join the fight against Quantrill. He lied about his age, because we weren’t eighteen yet, and joined the 15th Kansas Volunteers.”

  Roslyn let her gaze circle the table to gauge the men’s reactions. Jim suddenly grew interested in eating every crumb of his cobbler. Eustace stared straight ahead with his palms pressed together while he tapped his upper lip with the sides of his index fingers. Tom, his face reflecting his curiosity, stared at her. Elam’s face wore its typical stoic expression. Only his gaze that studied her face expressed his thoughts. He knows where this is going.

  “What happened to him, Mrs. Welsh?” Tom asked the question the others waited to hear answered.

  Caroline placed a palm on Roslyn’s forearm. “I take it he did not survive the war.”

  Roslyn looked down and shook her head. “No. His company was part of the campaign to keep Stirling Price from invading and taking over Kansas. From his letters he wrote while in western Missouri, Ross fought in a few battles as they drove General Price and his men south. Then we didn’t hear from him again. His commanding officer wrote and said he died of dysentery.” She glanced up long enough to see Eustace squirm on the bench, a look of discomfort on his face.

  Elam wiped his palm across his mouth and chin as he shifted his gaze and stared at the far wall. “Ain’t no good way to go. Lost a passel of men to the dysentery. Right sorry, Mrs. Welsh.”

  “That’s the truth.” Eustace heaved a breath. “I also offer my condolences about your brother, Mrs. Welsh.”

  At the tone of genuine consolation in his voice, Roslyn looked over at Eustace. “Thank you for saying so, Eustace. It’s been hard. I miss him and my father.” She shook her head, still feeling a sense of disbelief over what had happened next. “Even at his age, my pa got drafted the last year of the war. Ross was only dead a few months and then Pa was killed, too.” Roslyn sat up straight and lifted her face. “I imagine just about everyone in this country has suffered losses. I’ve heard more than once that, all I can do now is look to the future.”

  Those around the table stayed silent for several seconds.

  Eustace cleared his throat. “As much as I understand it pains you to recall the loss of your brother, Mrs. Welsh, and that you wish to honor his name, we must resolve this issue about what you wear outside. If you think you are drawing attention away from the fact you are a woman by wearing the clothes your brother wore, you are not. In fact, you being a woman is even more apparent—and disturbing— to us and our routine. You need to dress like a woman.”

  “I told you, Eustace. These latest styles for woman are terrible when it comes to working around horses. Skirts flap around and get hung up on everything. If that weren’t enough, society expects them to be long enough to cover our shoes. That means they drag on the floor or the dirt outside, not to mention the horse apples.” And I won’t even bring up the subject of how ridiculous cinched-tight corsets are when a woman is working. “Perhaps you would like it better if I dressed like I did when I washed laundry for my aunt’s business. That’s a feminine enough job for you, isn’t it? I’d take my petticoats off, grab the bottom of the back of my skirt, bring it up between my legs…uh, sorry…limbs, and tuck it in my front waistband.”

  Tom and Jim hid snickers behind their palms.

  Eustace groaned as he leaned his elbows on the table and massaged his temples. “That is not proper talk for a lady, ma’am.”

  Roslyn huffed. “That’s what I had to do to get the job done. I could have dressed like I did earlier, but with Emmy coming, Ross’s clothes didn’t fit right.” Plus, Aunt Almena would have disowned me. Since she already had all my money, I was trapped.

  Roslyn looked over at Elam, only to realize he focused his gaze on her. Except for an upward tic on one side of his mouth and the laughter dancing in his eyes, his face remained expressionless.

  Eustace was not above creating a scene to make her feel uncomfortable. Now it was his turn. Suppressing a laugh, Roslyn jammed her fists to her waist. “Well? Would that be less offensive to your male sensibilities, Eustace? Would I look more feminine then? My stockings up to my knees showed, but at least I could move around to scrub clothes on the board. I could stir the pots of boiling water without my skirt catching on fire while I worked next to the outside fire pits.”

  Jim swallowed back his laughter. “Women don’t really hike up their skirts like that when they do laundry, do they?”

  Elam turned to him. “Seen a passel of Army laundresses in my time. They surely do. Ma done the same thing.”

  Eustace threw up his hand, palm out. “All right! Enough! However you do it, Mrs. Welsh, come up with something to wear out there that isn’t so mannish or so…distracting.”

  As Roslyn glared in response to Eustace’s demand, she bit her lip to keep from insisting he mind his own business.

  Caroline leaned toward Roslyn and spoke in a soft voice. “I think I have an idea. How partial are you to that gray skirt you arrived in?”

  “I don’t like it. I feel weighted down by it. There’s enough material in it for three skirts.”

  “Good. I’ll share my thoughts after we chase all these men back to their room. If it works out, you might not only have some good work clothes, but also enough wool fabric left over to make Emmy some soakers to go over her diapers. It’s getting too warm to keep her wrapped in a blanket all the time.”

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  Chapter 12

  ~o0o~

  May 3-6, 1866

  F ortunately, in spite of her reluctance to have Roslyn work in the corral, Caroline did share her idea about a better way to dress when she worked out of doors.

  After they were alone the night of the argument with Eustace, Caroline had asked Roslyn to find her gray skirt before she and Emmy joined her in her bedroom. Once she shut the door, Caroline pointed to the open rafters above them. She then leaned close to Roslyn so she could be heard, even while speaking softly. “With this open ceiling, don’t doubt for a minute tha
t sound travels from one end of the building to the other.”

  “Yes, I noticed.” Roslyn scrunched her face as she wondered at what she might have said since she arrived that had been overheard.

  “Do you hear how quiet it is, even with four men in one small room? They’re listening. If you don’t want them to know what we’re up to and comment on it before we finish, we must speak in quiet tones.”

  “Fine with me. What are we up to?”

  Caroline softly laughed. “Have you heard of Amelia Bloomer and her dress reform?”

  Roslyn looked at her askance. “You mean those…” She remembered to lower her voice. “those silly, frilly dresses with short skirts over those—what did they call them? Turkish trousers?” After Caroline nodded, Roslyn rolled her eyes. “They looked rather ridiculous to me. Then again, it hasn’t been that long since I could hardly wait until I was old enough to be out of short skirts. Little did I realize what a frustration long skirts and corsets could be.”

  “Hear me out, Roslyn.” Caroline spread the gray wool skirt like a fan on top of her bed. She pointed out how they could cut the fabric like trousers, but leave the legs extra full. “They’ll be loose like the Turkish pants, but we won’t put a drawstring in the bottom hems. We’ll let it drape over your natural shape so it looks like a narrow skirt when you stand or sit. Yet, you will be able to sit a horse astride or pull a hoof between your knees without hiking up a skirt. Your legs will stay covered without revealing their shape.”

  Roslyn bit her lip while she considered. “I’ll still have to wear Ross’s old shirt when I’m out working. Just in case I can afford a new skirt someday, I really hate to ruin the one shirtwaist I have with underarm stains and dirt from the corral.”

  “There should be no objection to that. Wear it with the tails hanging outside, like the bloomer dresses over the trousers. As for the corset, instead of one with bone stays in it, I have a soft one that doesn’t fit me anymore. It’s more like a form-fitting camisole. With you still nursing Emmy, you do need some support, but I don’t think it’s good to bind yourself like you did today.”