The whistle sounded, and Joseph replaced the letter in his pocket and stared at the approaching train. Today, his single life would end and his married life begin.
The train slowed but did not stop despite Joseph's frantic waving. As he watched, the last car click-clacked out of sight.
He peeked inside the depot—empty. He took the steps two at a time and rushed to the telegraph office. Surely they could get a message to the train, inform them they missed a passenger’s stop.
The operator looked up. “Joe, glad you’re here. Saved me a trip to your place. You’ve got a telegram from your intended.” He shuffled through items on his desk.
Joe’s mouth went dry. “What is it? What happened?”
“Message says ‘Month delay. Family obligations.’ Read for yourself.” The telegraph operator handed Joe the paper.
“But what does it mean?” He stared at the telegram.
“Means she ain’t coming today.”
Joseph crammed the paper in his pocket, sorry he'd wasted a day's work in the field. "Better go see Pastor Townsend. He expected to be performing a wedding today. What does a month's delay mean? Will she be here July 12, or the end of June, or July?” He looked at the operator for an explanation.
“Can’t tell you, Joe. I’m not a mind reader.”
Rascal trotted by Joe’s side as he walked toward the pastor’s house.
Would Miss York come at all? He’d sent his hard-earned money for her ticket and travel expenses. He’d scrimped and saved, making certain she had sufficient funds for the trip. Her letters convinced him of her honesty, but now, doubt and confusion crept into his mind. He’d heard tales of mail-order brides who pocketed the money and stayed back east.
Matilda opened the door, looking beside and behind him expectantly. “Where is she?”
“Still in Missouri, I guess. Got a telegram instead of a bride.”
“Joseph?” Pastor Townsend looked from his friend to Matilda.
“Miss York didn’t arrive.” He handed the telegram to the pastor.
Matilda shooed them to the kitchen. “A cup of coffee and some buttermilk pie will help you see things right. Joe, you take the end chair.”
“I expected her to step off the train today.”
Sam Townsend shrugged. “Well, I expected to be marrying you off today. Guess we’re both a little disappointed. This says she’ll be here in a month. It’s been a year since you advertised for a bride. What’s another month?”
“Why the telegram?” He pointed to the pie with his fork and nodded to Matilda. “You make great pies, Matilda. I’d planned to tell Miss York to ask for all your recipes.”
“Then it’s a good thing she didn’t arrive today. Joseph, it’s not a good idea to give a new wife cooking advice.” Matilda offered Joe more coffee.
Pastor Townsend returned the telegram and patted Joe’s shoulder. “Write her a letter. Ask her to explain. I’m sure she has a good reason.”
“I don’t know where to write. She planned to see her sister before boarding the train. Maybe her sister told her not to come. What do you think?”
“I think you should expect her in a month,” Matilda said.
“Really? I don’t know much about women, grew up with four brothers,” he said. “I looked around the house today, tried to picture it through a woman’s eyes. I cleaned it up the best I could, but what if my best isn’t good enough? Worried all the way into town she might be disappointed with what I offered. Then she didn’t show up.”
The broad-shouldered, red-haired pastor sat and lifted a forkful of pie. "Stay for supper, Joe. Put your trust in Miss York and God. She sent the telegram. I don't think she'll fail you."
"Think you got your facts backward, Pastor. I should trust God first."
Sam Townsend grinned and nodded. "As long as you're in town, let's go over to your blacksmith shop. My son Eli didn't want any part of my carpentry business, but he loves being your apprentice, repairing tools, and shoeing horses."
"Guess that's the way of fathers and sons. My father was a teamster, so we always had a forge. Daddy insisted we all learn the trade. The family is getting by, but times are tough all over the South after the war. I wanted a different life, to break up the soil and watch the shoots come out of the ground."
“But those pesky plants don’t shoot up with money attached,” Pastor Townsend laughed. “That’s why I’m a minister and a carpenter, and you’re a farmer and a blacksmith.”
“I hope to sell the business to your Eli in a few years.”
“Nothing Matilda and I would like better than to keep our son close to home.”
***
Eli, clad in a leather apron, looked up when his father and Joe came in the building lit by the blazing fire. “Joseph! What are you doing here?”
"My bride didn't arrive." Joseph cringed when he realized he'd be making this statement to every person he met for the next few weeks. He wouldn't say she'd be here in a month. Better she show up and surprise everyone, than for him to announce a second expected arrival and have her not show up again.
The young man switched the conversation to the orders pending and showed Joe the items completed. “We’ve got more barter requests than money this month.”
Joseph checked the accounts. “Happens every year. Folks pay when the cotton crop comes in. I’ll be in Friday and Saturday. We should work on that hand seeder for the Allen family.”
“I’ve never done one of those. Thanks for letting me be your apprentice,” Eli said.
Joseph touched his hand to his forehead as a salute to the young man, then paused to let his eyes adjust to the sunlight.
He turned to his best friend and pastor. “Was the visit to Eli a hint that I have to inform the whole county my bride didn’t arrive?”
“No. I asked Matilda to handle the task when we left the house. She planned a welcome for your new wife after church. She’ll get the word out to cancel the dinner on the church grounds.”
"Better get back home, still a lot of daylight left for working. See you Sunday, and tell Matilda thanks."
Joe whistled to Rascal and bent to scratch behind the dog’s shaggy ears. “Your big old brown eyes look as sad as I feel.”
At the train depot, Joseph patted the wagon seat where he’d expected Miss Emma York to be sitting. Rascal hopped up and barked his thanks.
He couldn’t change the facts by brooding, but he did have a nice dinner waiting. He’d fried up a chicken and made a cobbler this morning for their marriage supper. Tonight, he’d eat by himself the food prepared for two, unless he shared with Rascal.
Joseph clicked to the team, and they trotted off toward his empty home on the treeless prairie.
Chapter Three
Emma ambled through each room of the house where she and her sister Heather had grown up. Even with the furniture gone and the walls bare, it remained no different than when her family lived there. The house retained its quiet, solemn, officious demeanor. She remembered the ticking of the clock, the click of her mother's knitting needles, and her father's throat-clearing if she and Heather spoke above a whisper. On the porch, she turned the key in the lock, closing this period of her life.
"Ready for an adventure?" Annie returned with the team. "I put a pallet in the back for the girls and rigged a quilt to keep the sun off them. You can put Amos between them in the back."
"I think I'll hold him. Still getting used to his ways. I appreciate your husband loading everything up. Caring for a baby is difficult."
“You’ll get used to it.” Annie slapped the reins. “Thought we’d take our time, stop and let the girls run around when we eat.”
“Annie, thank you. I need to know for certain what happened to Heather. And if it’s bad news, I’d appreciate you being with me.”
“You helped me through two births and raising my wild ones. I want to be with you on this journey, and I need to see you board the Texas train even if I bawl my eyes out when you leave.”
&n
bsp; Emma touched her friend’s cheek. “I can’t believe I might soon be a bride.”
“And you won’t have to wait nine months before you have a baby in your arms.”
As the trip took them farther from the only home she’d ever known, Emma studied the surroundings, memorizing Missouri sights and sounds. She soaked in the flowering dogwoods, the scent of the damp earth, the array of wildflowers, the aroma of the purple Sweet William, the yellow warbler’s song, the grace of the scissortails slicing the sky, and most precious, her friend’s voice.
Toward the end of the day, Emma spied a familiar figure in overalls with an uneven bowl-style haircut. “I think that’s Trouble.”
“Should I stop?” Annie stared at the thin figure in front of a run-down shack.
“No. I think she’d run away, but she is watching us.”
Annie pointed further ahead on the left. “And there’s a grove on the right. “Didn’t the girl say Heather camped in the trees?”
“She did. I’m not sure Trouble’s word is reliable. Missouri is full of trees. But let’s take a look.” Emma scanned the area. “Annie, I’m scared of what I might find.”
“Want me to go?”
“I’ll do it.” Emma grabbed her walking stick as she got out of the wagon. She hated using it, but the ground sloped down toward the creek and she didn’t want to fall.
The leafy canopy dropped the temperature by ten degrees, and the water coursing over the stones sang of peace and rest. Bones of a burned wagon teetered on the banks of the creek, but Emma only saw the raised mound of earth accented by sunbeams filtering through the leaves. A crude cross fashioned with wire and two pieces of wood marked the spot. Carved into the crosspiece were the words: Heather, mother of Amos, died June 1882.
Emma leaned against a solid tree trunk and fought to catch her breath. Heather was gone. They’d held each other when each of their parents had died. Emma thought her sister would be there forever. Distance separated them, but their long and confidential letters re-created hours spent sitting on the porch with iced tea and sharing sisterly secrets. Heather encouraged her to go to Texas and marry. Could she follow her plan with Amos to consider? Emma saw movement out of the corner of her eye.
“Didn’t you believe me?” Trouble suddenly appeared at Emma’s side.
Emma stroked the girl’s back. “I needed to know for sure.”
Trouble leaned against Emma’s arm. “Sorry about your sister. You’re real nice, Miss Emma York. I bet she was, too.”
“She was. You must have a sister you love,” Emma said.
“I don’t. If you’re still going to Goodly, Texas, you’ll need help with that squalling baby.”
“How did you know about Goodly?” Emma asked.
“You said it when I gave you Amos. I don’t make things up, and I don’t lie.” Trouble moved away from Emma and lifted her chin.
“I didn’t mean to question your memory or honesty. But I don’t think I could take you to Texas.”
“Texas would be better than marrying.” Trouble kicked a tree root.
“Marrying? You’re a child.”
“Turned thirteen. Mama says I’m old enough.”
Emma peered at the child’s bony frame. “I don’t agree with your mama, but I can’t steal you. Sneaking you away wouldn’t be right. Trouble, would you like to see Amos?”
“Done seen him, those little girls, and Miss Annie, too. You should know our family can’t feed you.”
"We have provisions. Why don't you eat with us?"
“I could eat. You can lean on me, Miss York.” Trouble took the walking stick which left Emma no option but to use the girl’s shoulder for balance.
Lightning bugs flitted through the trees before Trouble offered a reluctant farewell. She’d enjoyed a generous dinner before helping the women settle the children for the night.
“Bye, Miss York.” Trouble shook off Emma’s attempt at a hug and disappeared over the ridge.
Emma and Annie shared a quilt wrapped over their shoulders as they watched the dying fire.
“I’m glad we camped here for the night. Nice to be near Heather’s grave.”
“We can stay another day.”
“No. Annie, I’d rather go to Hidden Fork to look for Andrew.”
“I think if your brother-in-law had survived, he would have come for his family. But we’ll stick to your plan. You have to satisfy yourself. Then you can go to Texas with a clear conscience.”
“A clear conscience and a baby. Trouble offered to accompany me to Texas and help with Amos. Can you imagine what Mr. Walker would say if I arrived with a baby and a teenager?”
Annie laughed. “A trio might be too much.”
“Do you think he’ll accept me and Amos or send us back?” She turned toward her friend, even though the darkness prevented her from reading Annie’s expression.
“You’ll find out when you get there. I believe he’ll be delighted to have you both. The parts of his letters you shared convinced me he is a strong, solid, Christian man,” Annie said.
“I must take one step at a time, and tomorrow will be the search for my brother-in-law.”
Annie squeezed her hand. “One step at a time. I’ll miss you, dear friend. Maybe when I get these kids grown, I’ll come to Texas for a visit.”
“The same stars in Missouri shine down on Texas. Let’s make a pact to think about each other when we see God’s handiwork in the night sky.” Emma leaned back to study the star-filled sky. “Annie, let’s not cry when we part.”
“I don’t know if I can promise that,” Annie said.
“I’m afraid if I start to cry, I won’t be able to stop.”
“We’ll write regularly, just like you and Heather used to do. Think of me as your Missouri sister.”
Amos added his voice to their conversation, and Emma picked him up before he woke Annie’s girls.
“Go to sleep, Annie. I’ll give Amos his midnight supper. Maybe with a full tummy, he’ll sleep until morning.”
***
Emma handed the baby in the basket to the train conductor, then held to the railing as she tackled the steps, carrying the heavy valise.
“Thank you,” she said, offering to take the cumbersome basket back.
“Where do you want to sit? I’ll take the little one. I noticed…” The conductor allowed his words to hang in the air.
She had trained herself to walk straight and steady, but when she tired, her gait resembled the clump-thump of a horse who’d thrown a shoe. Today, lifting her head proved tiring, and lifting her left foot almost impossible.
“This spot will be fine. Thank you for your kindness. We’ve had a long and sad journey. Both my only sister and brother-in-law died in Missouri.” She accepted the basket, securing the baby in the spot next to the window.
“I’m sorry for your grief.” The conductor, a rotund gentleman with gray hair and mustache, stared at Amos who flailed his arms and whimpered. “When you have to travel with children, trains are better than wagons.”
“The rocking lulls him to sleep, but the nights we spent in hotels on this journey to Texas, he fussed the whole time. I fear he’ll miss the train’s motion when we arrive.”
The conductor checked the platform, then his watch. “Three more minutes until we leave. What’s your destination?”
“Goodly, Texas. My husband is there.”
“He’ll be mighty glad to see both of you.” The conductor moved to the platform door and shouted, “All aboard.”
Joseph Walker promised to marry her the day she arrived, but he wasn’t her husband yet. She’d told the untruth before on this trip. A young woman traveling with an infant generated oohs and aahs over the baby and then curious, pointed stares at the third finger of her left hand. After the second travel day, she placed a ring on her finger, turning the stone to her palm. Instead of disdain, the subterfuge garnered sympathetic glances and offers of help from other women.
Emma appreciated the assistance. T
ending to a new baby and interrupted sleep added to the stress of leaving all she knew behind in Missouri and facing the unknown in Texas.
She fanned herself and the baby alternately to allay the stifling heat while she studied the bleak horizon. The view was flat as far as she could see. Joseph Walker said in one letter that he considered this wide, expansive land a beautiful sight. He praised the brilliant Texas sunsets and boasted of the beauty of the moon rising big and orange from the horizon. Could she learn to appreciate the terrain?
With all the preparations and the journey itself, she hadn’t considered where she would live. She loved each of the seasons, so defined in Missouri by the palette of the trees. This landscape took her breath away, not for its beauty, but due to the starkness. The sheer vastness sapped her energy, and with Goodly less than an hour away, she must compose herself. She’d soon face Mr. Joseph Walker.
“Next stop, Goodly,” called the conductor. He stopped by her seat. “Will your husband be waiting?”
“No. I wasn’t certain when I’d arrive, but he has a blacksmith shop in town as well as a farm. I’ll go to the shop. They’ll get word to him.” Emma felt her face flush. She hoped this friendly man wouldn’t view her as a braggart. Inside, her stomach roiled. She would know Joseph Walker’s response before the day culminated in one of those Texas sunsets he admired.
The conductor checked the removal of her trunks. “Looks like a ghost town today. Goodly’s usually a bustling place.”
Emma removed some coins from her reticule.
He protested her generosity when she pressed them into his hand. “Any man would have helped a young wife traveling with a baby.”
“If you can’t use them, buy something for your grandchildren,” Emma said.
“My wife finds a use for all the money I bring home.” He glanced at his watch again and issued the call for boarding, even though no passengers waited on the platform. “Good luck to you.”
The train pulled away from the station labeled Goodly, Texas. One step at a time, Emma said to herself. She lifted the baby to her shoulder, leaving his basket with her trunks. When his head rested on her shoulder, she kissed his sweaty brow for luck.
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