by Natalie Dean
“Married?” the big man scoffed. “If you favor my opinion, Miss, marriage’s a far sight more dangerous than prospectin’, but to each his own,” the big man shrugged.
“Per’aps you direct me how to get to the Grass Valley Camp from here? That’s where my betrothed has his claim.”
“You’ll want the stage for that,” the man pointed to the stagecoach that had paced the train on her way into town. “Be wary, though, Miss. There’s a reason they call the roads out here the ‘Wild West.' Fare thee well.”
Anna thanked the big man and made her way to the stage driver. “Excuse me, sir. Is there room for another?”
The driver looked nervously toward the roof of the coach. It was tied down chockablock with steamer trunks, carpet-bags, and something extraordinarily large beneath a canvas tarpaulin. A small droplet of sweat beaded on the driver’s head near the band of his hat. He looked back to Anna.
She noted the man’s hesitation and quickly jumped to assuage any doubts he may have been harboring. “I’ve only got the one bag, sir. I just need to get to Grass Valley. I’m supposed to meet my husband there.”
The hard lines of the driver’s craggy face melted at the plaintive plea on Anna’s heart-shaped face. He finally caved. He nodded. “Alright. Hop aboard. Mind your head.”
Anna managed a bright smile and climbed aboard the waiting stage. This was it. The last leg of a long voyage into a bright, golden future. So enrapt in the excitement of her journey, she forgot the old adage…all that glitters is not gold.
Once Anna was inside the stage and the door swung closed, the driver slid the long, dark metal barrel of his Colt revolver back under his duster.
“So, tell me, darlin’, where about are you from? You might as well tell all your deep, dark, dirty secrets now, because by the end of this trip, we’re gonna be the fastest of friends.” The bold, brash talk matched the brassy blonde curls of Mavis Merriwether. Her silk-gloved hand gave a firm squeeze to Anna’s knee. Nearly eight hours had passed on the journey so far, and everyone on the stage had swapped tales of where they had lived or places they had visited. The Marvelous Mavis was an actress who had been all around the world to places like London and Paris. She’d performed Shakespeare for kings and queens. While Mavis entertained the primarily male contingency aboard the stage, Anna had carefully drawn her betrothed’s letters from her bag and read them over and over. She lingered on the missive wherein she had accepted her beau’s proposal.
16 August 1851
Dearest Anna,
I fear I must call for the doctor soon, for I am certain I must be suffering from fevered visions. You have said ‘yes' my love, and consented to be my wife with neither sight nor sound of me. Surely this is the stuff dreams are made of. I ready our house for your arrival, but for now, it lacks the one thing that will make it a home…that, my dearest heart, is you.
My Sincerest Love-Jesse
Anna allowed a smile to upturn the corners of her lips. She let herself imagine standing at the altar, staring into the eyes of her beloved, dreaming of all the possibilities to come. Free to choose whichever path she pleased….
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