Fools Rush In: Mail-Order Bride

by Eveline Hart

  “Ah, St. Brigid, please forgive me. It’s been a long day.”

  Anna fed the baby till her tiny belly was full of milk and her eyes full of sleep. As the baby stretched her rosebud mouth in a wide yawn, Anna fixed a drawer in the dresser with pillows and a blanket as a makeshift bed and tucked her child into quiet slumber.

  There was a private room Mrs. Williams had shown her. This was where she was to get ready for the wedding. The pending nuptials were scheduled to take place that very evening. Now that the bride had arrived, the minister had been fetched. The landlady and her husband would serve as witnesses.

  Anna stretched her own arms feeling the kinks of a perilous journey finally loose. She let her linen chemise drop to the floor and stepped into the waiting copper tub. Her second leg followed, and she gripped the sides of the tub, easing herself down into the deep water. Her journey was almost complete. She had left behind a horror story to follow the rush of gold and a brighter future, if not for her, then most certainly for her daughter. A seemingly decent man had asked for her hand in marriage and had promised to provide for her. She eased her head back onto the edge of the tub watching the cloudy eddies of soap swirl on the water’s surface. Little did she know how clouded her future was about to become.

  “Don’t you have a wedding to get to, Jesse?” the Marshal asked as Jesse ran in the door. “I have McAllister and Farnsworth holed up in a cabin on the outskirts of town.”

  “Now?” the Marshal asked, jumping up from his chair, grabbing his gun and running toward Jesse in the doorway. He called his men and all six of them rode out to the cabin.

  The cabin was dark except for a light in the room where Jesse had left McAllister. Jesse filled everyone in as to the layout of the house and the men’s location when he had left. The deputies surrounded the house and the Marshal went in and found McAllister was a very easy catch. He was still passed out on the floor. Farnsworth was still passed out on the bed.

  “Waking these guys up is the hardest part of this capture,” the Marshal said laughing. Farnsworth and McAllister were swinging their arms like sleepwalkers trying to find a wall. The deputies just led them out laughing the whole time.

  After the deputies handcuffed the two men and sat them out by the wagon, Jesse walked around where McAllister was on the ground, on his knees, with his hands cuffed behind his back. His large frame was slumped over and his stomach was sticking out. Jesse stood there looking at him. He had begun to think he would never see this day. The memories of his wife, his son and his father murdered by this piece of trash had been a burden he had carried for so long. He wondered so many times if they suffered. Did he shoot them dead and then burn the house down, or were they injured by the shots and killed by the fire.

  McAllister looked up at him, still pretty well under the influence. “J.D. they caught us. Go see where they are, we can slip on these two hags and get away if’n they are over by those trees. Now Skit!” he said, his speech slurred and spit running down his jaw.

  Jesse smiled thinking how McAllister had not even noticed that Jesse had not been handcuffed, that he was standing there not only of his own free will but had his guns strapped to both sides of his legs.

  Jesse leaned down on one knee, looking into his red bulging eyes. “SKIT!” McAllister said, spitting at him harder.

  Jesse laughed. “You are a sick man do you know that?” McAllister squinted his eyes, trying to focus at him. “You had a good life McAllister. You threw it away and turned your life into the living hell your own daddy put you through. You could have done better. You did do better until the devil himself snatched you around like a cowboy gored by a bull.”

  “What the hell are you blabbering about J.D.!” McAllister screamed. The harsh scream sent his labored throat into convulsive coughs. Cigarettes and whiskey had taken its toll on him and tonight he didn’t look like that big bad man that Jesse had always thought him to be.

  The Marshal walked around the wagon and saw Jesse talking to McAllister. Jesse lifted his hand and nodded his head to let him know it was alright. The Marshal nodded back slightly and walked off. He knew Jesse needed this time to face the devil on his own terms.

  “McAllister, I have been waiting a long time to see you on your knees, in the mud, in the dark with nowhere to go and with no one to go with you. I have prayed for you to suffer ten times more pain than my family suffered. I have wanted to see you scream up to God to help you and I prayed that God would not listen to your prayers but would turn you loose to Lucifer himself to do with what he wanted to.”

  McAllister sat back on his heels. He was sobering up now. He was looking at Jesse whose face was blood red. Sweat was pouring down his face and his hands were shaking. McAllister did not know what he was so upset about and had no idea what he was talking about, but he did recognize the signs of a man who was holding back from reaching over and choking him to death. He could tell Jesse was trying to control himself. He saw him grip his legs with his hands to keep them from circling his neck. He couldn’t move with the handcuffs twisted behind his back, so he just let out a sigh and shook his head.

  Jesse slowly stood up, looking down at this big man that suddenly looked so small. “Three years ago McAllister, …..three years ago you killed my father, my wife and my son. You burnt my house down. You took everything I had, and everything I ever loved. You left me with only one thing to live for and that was to see you pay for every minute they suffered and every minute I suffered. I swore I would not stop until I saw you hanging from the ropes. I don’t’ want you to have a proper hanging, I want to see you slowly hang and I want to watch you choke to death.” McAllister turned pale, Jesse knew now that he remembered, but McAllister didn’t want to give in so easy even now.

  Jesse took a deep breath, still staring him deep in his eyes and McAllister just looked very puzzled and said, “J.D. Whut are you talking about here. There was no fire was it?” McAllister said in a normal voice, looking around like he was trying to find a fire.

  There was a dead silence between the men. McAllister realized he wasn’t walking out of this one. That he wasn’t going anywhere. And Jesse knew he was playing games. He glared into his eyes with hate. It felt good to him let him have it face to face.

  McAllister saw all of that hate and felt the anger in Jesse, and he knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one. He realized exactly who Jesse really was; the Marshal’s son. He had been tricked. This job was a setup. He gritted his teeth. How had he been so blind to believe this new guy when he said he had robbed stagecoaches. He remembered now that Jesse had suggested the job. He should have made him do it alone. How stupid had he been. He wanted that strong box so bad. When he heard gold was on that coach, he knew with three of them they could get it faster and not leave a trail. He didn’t want to trust this guy in case he were to run off with the loot.

  The more McAllister thought about getting set up, the angrier he became. “What do you want from me?” he said in a low growl. Trapped like an animal and still feeling powerful.

  “I would say for you to rot in hell, but I think that is already the case,” Jessie snapped. He stood back up leaning against the wagon, watching McAllister squirm, trying to pull against the handcuffs. “I don’t really know what I even want. You rotting in hell is what I have always said I wanted but nothing is going to bring them back.”

  McAllister continued to struggle. He tried to lift his massive body up on his wobbly legs from a kneeling position, but he just fell over on his side.

  Jesse walked over to the side of him, making sure he could see his face. “I just told you everything I have wanted to tell you for years, and it feels good. One thing I know for sure, you will never hurt anyone again, and I am mighty proud to know I played a big part in making that happen.” Jesse started laughing, and it felt good to laugh. He could feel himself letting go of all the pain that he had felt, all the tears he had cried. He smiled thinking about his family, he could see their faces, hear his son’s laugh. He was
different now.

  Jesse looked down at McAllister who was glaring up at him, and he just smiled, turned around and walked away. Everything felt better now. The stars were brighter, the moon seemed bigger. He threw his hand up to the Marshal, “I have a wedding to get to Marshal!” Jesse smiled as he jumped on his bay and galloped toward home.

  Chapter 6

  There was a tap on Anna’s door. “It’s time, dear,” the landlady whispered excitedly.

  “I’ll be there in a moment,” Anna said, smoothing down her Ma’s dress, and adjusting Sissy’s blue ribbon around her waist. She looked at her reflection in the silvered mirror.

  “Oh, you’d be proud, Da,” she smiled sadly.

  A soft coo approved in reply. Anna looked back at her daughter. “Oh, ya think so too, now do ya? How would you know? You’ve never even met him.”

  The baby giggled. Anna giggled in kind. “Well, you’ve got me there. Neither have I. But, he’s a good man in his letters. He sounds as though he’ll take care of us, just as dandy as you please. Maybe he looks like a bug-eyed tuber. Who knows? What’s important is that he’ll treat us proper. Right?”

  The baby had drifted back to sleep, the rise and fall of her little chest putting Anna’s nervous worry to ease. Anna leaned over and dropped an angel’s kiss on her child’s forehead. She opened the door and walked down the hall toward the parlor.

  The minister stood smiling in front of the stone hearth. The landlady and her husband stood to one side as witnesses. And there, to the right of the minister, was her husband to be. He did not resemble the bug-eyed tuber Anna had so feared. In fact, he was so fair of face, Anna had to wonder, for a fleeting moment, if this was all just a cruel dream and she was still bound to the excoriating Jessup. But, she blinked, and her black-haired angel was still there.

  As she walked toward him, she thought she noticed a sudden familiar wave over his features. Whatever she thought she saw, he covered with a slight smile that only grew wider as he soaked in the beautiful features of his Irish angel. She had pulled her hair back, exposing the heart-shape of her fine-boned face. She had only daubed a bit of color on her full mouth, which smiled at him in complete happiness. She looked into his eyes, a stormy blue, as they looked into her own green ones. Something niggled at the back of Anna’s memory, but she pushed it aside.

  When she stepped in front of him, he reached for both of her hands, not taking his eyes off of her eyes. The deep blue color of his eyes filled her mind making her feel dizzy. She was breathing heavier from the anticipation. He was smiling and softly squeezing her hands to reassure her. The minister opened his Bible and began the ceremony.

  Anna didn’t hear a word he said, so when she had not repeated the vows after him, the others snickered. Anna looked up, and the preacher was grinning from ear to ear. Being a good sport, he repeated it for her, and they were both able to complete their vows. They were introduced as husband and wife. Anna froze. Jesse took a step closer, reached down and took her face in both of his hands. His lips were so soft, so full, so demanding. She felt like she was floating. She curled her long fingers into his thick, curled hair and pressed deeper into his demanding kiss.

  The preacher was trying not to laugh so he coughed to get her attention. She jumped. Jesse was still holding her so tight, not even the preacher's reaction had interrupted his concentration.

  The landlady and her husband started clapping for the couple.

  “If you please,” the minister begged. “It’s time to sign the marriage license.”

  He handed Anna the pin so she could sign first. Anna signed, overjoyed that her life could finally begin her new journey in life. Then her new husband smiled and picked up the pen with his right hand. There, in the dancing glow of the firelight, Anna saw what had been niggling at the back of her subconscious. The scar . . . it was the man from the robbery!

  A long, angry scar wound from her husband’s palm and snaked its way down his wrist. The same scar the Blue-Eyed bandit had! She had married a thief!

  In a flurry of white and red, Anna tore down the hall and locked herself in her quarters, leaving Jesse outside in the hall, pounding on the door. Had Anna known what else was coming, she would have wanted a thieving, gun-toting husband to be on her side of the door.

  “Who’s that?” Parker Cassidy asked Pedro Sanchez as they stood on the porch of the Daily California Mail. The paper shared space with the local jail. There had been quite a flurry of excitement when the Marshal and the posse brought in the McAllister Gang. Cassidy and Pedro had helped bring the two drunken and unruly robbers into custody. Now, they were enjoying a well-deserved smoke on the porch before heading home.

  The two men observed a large man, with a generous girth, step down from the last train of the day. He wore his shock of startlingly white hair slicked back over a wide, high forehead. He reached a ham-sized hand into his waistcoat pocket and drew out a solid gold pocket watch.

  Pedro elbowed Cassidy in the side, hard. “That watch? The one the gringo’s looking at? That would feed me and mi familia for a whole year!”

  Cassidy scoffed. “Pedro, you don’t have a family.”

  Pedro laughed rakishly. “Hah. I guess just me then.”

  “What do you suppose he’s after?” Cassidy leaned forward over the porch rail to try and catch wind of what the newcomer was muttering to the train’s conductor.

  The conductor pointed in their general direction, toward the Daily Mail offices. The portly gentleman began a purposeful, measured stride toward them. A scrawny valet scrambled behind him, making a fruitless attempt to load the newcomer’s cumbersome tower of steamer trunks and luggage aboard a wagon for delivery to The Grand Hotel.

  The man had looked large from a distance, as he got closer, the broadness of his corpulent waist pushed before him like the prow of a grand ship cutting through stern seas. He did not so much as wait for Cassidy and Pedro to step to the side as his massive presence demanded it.

  Curiosity prompted the two men to follow the stranger into the news office.

  “Something I can help you with, sir?” the editor looked over the rims of his bifocals.

  “I am Obadiah Jessup of the Manhattan Jessups.” Jessup waited for whatever accolades that announcement generally garnered back east. When it percolated nothing more than a vapid blink from the editor, Jessup huffed with a tense degree of annoyance. He slapped a bill on the counter. That got the editor’s attention.

  “Hmmph. I thought as much. As I was saying, I am Obadiah Jessup, and I find myself in the annoyed position of having to track down property which rightfully belongs to me. I find it most expeditious in these matters to place an advertisement in the local rag and engender the assistance of the locals. There will be, of course, a reward offered.”

  Mention of a reward stirred one of the bodies lumped in the nearby jail cell.

  The editor handed Jessup a form to fill. In the meantime, he held Jessup’s bill to the light, checking its authenticity. Jessup could not help but notice the editor’s careful study.

  “Oh, it’s wholly real, I assure you. As is this ad.” He pushed his fine handwriting toward the editor for approval, though the stern look on his florid face indicated he expected nothing less.

  The editor adjusted his glasses. “Five shillings reward. Runaway indentured maid from the Subscriber living in Fifth Avenue a little below 63rd Street, Manhattan, New York. Fair skinned. Markedly red hair. Have reason to believe headed West. When last seen, wearing a dark woolen frock and white kerchief, and worn brogues. Whoever takes up this girl and brings her home shall have the above reward and reasonable charges.”

  “Hey, Cassidy, don’t that sound like…OOF!” Pedro’s sentence broke off in a painful exhale as Cassidy leveled an elbow into his ribs. Unfortunately, Cassidy’s elbow didn’t reach into the jail cell.

  Duke McAllister had swayed to his feet. “I reckon I know where your gal is.”

  Jessup swiveled his massive body in McAllister’s direction. H
e raised one, bushy white eyebrow. “Oh, and where is that?”

  “Shut your pie hole, McAllister!” Cassidy warned. McAllister ignored him.

  “How do you feel about weddings?” McAllister asked Jessup.

  “Go fetch the Marshal,” Cassidy urged Pedro.

  Chapter 7

  “And she still won’t come out, Mr. Callahan?” The landlady brought Jesse a cup of coffee. Jesse sadly shook his head. Mrs. Williams retreated back to the kitchen where she felt she could be of the most use.

  He’d been sitting at the base of Anna’s door for hours. Nothing he said, nothing he offered had persuaded her to open the door. He had tried to explain his employment with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. He had tried to get her to understand that his involvement with the McAllister Gang was just part of his job. He reminded her that he’d helped save her baby. That had certainly been a surprise. Both when he’d first discovered the baby in Anna’s bag, and then to make the connection that Anna was his bride-to-be. It was as if the Universe was giving him a second chance at happiness.

  “Our baby, now,” he coaxed.

  Well, it wasn’t “open sesame,” but it certainly did the trick. The door swung in and dumped Jesse unceremoniously on his head at Anna’s feet. Her red hair fanned out about her face, and her eyes blazed with the fire of St. Brigid herself as she towered over him.

  “Fiona is not yours, nor will she ever be!” Anna’s voice rose high and shrill. It nearly overpowered Mrs. Williams’ thin voice as she scampered down the hall.

  “Mr. Callahan! Mr. Callahan! There’s a gentleman at the door, and he’s insisting on being let in. I tried to stop him, but he says you have something that belongs to him.”

  “Saints preserve us!” Anna exclaimed. “It’s him! It’s Obadiah. He’s come to take me back to that horrible place. I can’t! I won’t! And I won’t let him take Fiona!” She retreated back behind the wooden door, slamming it closed. Jesse was certain he heard the heavy scrape of the chest of drawers draw close to the door.