by Ember Pierce
* * *
At the moment, though, it looked like her only other option was fifty-year-old Mr. Silas Adams, who wanted a childbearing, workhorse of a wife. What was she going to do?
* * *
Bonny crumpled the letter in her hand and stuffed it back into her pocket. At that moment, she hated Silas Adams more than anyone she had ever hated in her entire life.
* * *
Angry tears slid down her cheeks, and she swiped at them ineffectively with her fist. Why did life have to be one long agony after another?
* * *
All of her dreams of leaving Philadelphia, moving out west, and having a new life were all in jeopardy. The plans she had tried so hard to make were unraveling with each day that went by without another response to her ad.
* * *
Despite the fact that Bonny rarely cried, at that moment she let herself weep at the unfairness of life. In her spot by the river, she allowed herself those few precious moments of self-pity that she felt she had earned.
* * *
Because once she stood up and went home, new problems would be waiting for her.
* * *
“Are you all right there, little lady?”
* * *
Bonny’s head snapped up and she looked over her shoulder to see a strange man watching her from some ten feet away. He was leaning against another tree, and Bonny cursed at herself for not paying more attention to her surroundings.
* * *
She knew what could happen to a young woman alone out here at dusk. The stories circulated around the neighborhood, whispered from one person to another, always with a slight tone of blame or disbelief.
* * *
“I’m fine,” she snapped, scrambling to her feet and hastily putting as much distance between herself and the man as she could.
* * *
She didn’t look back, but made herself hurry toward the more populated areas; even though she hated them with a passion, they would also keep her safe.
* * *
As she moved forward, she could hear footsteps behind her, and she tried to anticipate if the man was getting close enough to grab her from behind. Still, she refused to look back.
* * *
Bonny didn’t breathe again until she was in the middle of a large crowd of people. Then she allowed herself a quick glance over her shoulder.
* * *
The man was nowhere to be seen, but Bonny found that her resolve to get out of Philadelphia was firmer than it had ever been before.
* * *
She walked down to the Dowans’ house to see Betty, who might be called her best friend. They didn’t have much time for friendship.
* * *
Betty came from a large family, too. But they were able to talk briefly a few times a week. Betty had encouraged her to pursue being a mail-order bride.
* * *
There was nothing for Bonny in Philly. For people such as Betty and Bonny, the city was played out. They had to seek other opportunities.
* * *
Betty smiled as Bonny walked to the door. She opened it and waved hello.
* * *
“Do I look like the wife of a 50-year-old man who doesn’t tolerate any nonsense?” she asked as she walked in.
* * *
“That might depend. How much money does he have?”
* * *
“I didn’t ask.”
* * *
Betty shook her head. “A big mistake.
* * *
“Now, if you get a twenty-five-year-old with a good sized-farm who works hard and is handsome and kind, you can leave the money question aside for a while.
* * *
“But a fifty-year old guy? Think you should inquire how much you’d get in the will?”
* * *
“Betty!”
* * *
“Let’s face it, a girl has to take care of herself. A man who is fifty years old. What if he keels over tomorrow?
* * *
“You want to make sure you are not stranded in some hick town with no money. In fact, if you do become a mail-order bride for a fifty-year-old, the first thing you should do is watch as he writes a new will, and make sure you get everything.
* * *
“Then you can begin the husband hunt again but this time for a younger man.”
* * *
Bonny had to laugh. “That sounds a bit… a bit less than romantic.”
* * *
“Bonny, let’s face it. There is not much romance in the mail-order bride business.
* * *
“We’re looking for decent husbands because we want to get out of the dead-end city where there is nothing but drudgery and work, and where the work is from sunup to sundown with few breaks.
* * *
“Women age quickly here, and that’s one reason why we want to get out. We want to enjoy our youth while we can.
* * *
“We won’t have it forever,” Betty added. “If we stay here, we will be gone tomorrow, or the next day. So, if that fifty-year-old is rich…”
* * *
“I would hope there would be a little bit of romance. I did ask for a picture and I think his next letter should have one.
* * *
“I just wonder if the West is like it’s portrayed in all those dime store novels. All that shooting and rip-roaring action.
* * *
“Indians attacking ranches and towns. Women being kidnapped by the savages and taken away. Bandits galloping down the streets of a town, shooting in all directions.”
* * *
Betty laughed. “I think those dime-store novels are wildly exaggerated. But they sure are fun reading. I must admit I laugh a bit when I read them.”
* * *
“Do you have the latest one?”
* * *
Betty smiled and looked around. For a once-busy household, the rooms were empty. She nodded. “Yes.”
* * *
She rushed out of the room for a moment and came back with the book, Dead-Eye Dick and the Swanson Gang.
* * *
It told the story of the Swanson Gang, who robbed banks and trains and shot anyone who got in its way, until Sheriff “Dead-Eye” John Johnson challenged them and killed all five members when they tried to rob the Summersville bank in Wyoming.
* * *
At the end of the fight, the gang members were laid out in the cemetery. The graves, the dime novel claimed, became a tourist attraction.
* * *
Bonny took the book and thumbed through it, stopping to read a couple of pages. She shook her head. “The writers definitely have a colorful imagination.
* * *
“To be truthful, this is exciting, but I don’t want the west to be like this. I want it to be peaceful and sociable and friendly. I don’t want to see shooting in the streets.’
* * *
“Well, you won’t be in town. You will be out there on a farm.”
* * *
Bonny signed and closed the magazine. A wistful look spread across her face. “You know what I wish?
* * *
“I wish the rancher has horses, horses I can pat and ride. A horse who can be a friend. Do you know, Betty, that you are the only friend I’ve ever had?
* * *
“But I’ve always liked animals. Dogs or cats or horses. They look sweet and always seem nice. I’d like to have a husband, but right after that I wouldn’t mind a pet.
* * *
“It is a type of companionship. Besides, I’ve always liked horses,” Bonny confided. “I wouldn’t mind riding every day.”
* * *
Betty grinned. “Neither would I, but our first goal has to be to get out of Philly. But you might as well dream big.”
5
Kristian opened his eyes a crack and squinted around the tiny room. Even the miniscule amount of light that squeezed past his eyelids made his head throb so violently that he t
hought he might throw up.
* * *
He thought he recognized the room this time as the same one he had woken up in this morning? Yesterday morning? Wasn’t this Rhonda’s room? Why was he here again?
* * *
He tried to open his eyes again, and as his vision adjusted, he recognized his friend, town doctor Otto Asken, sitting in a chair beside his bed.
* * *
“Whaddaryu doin’ here?” Kristian slurred at him.
* * *
He had known Otto since they were young, and having reconnected once Otto had returned to town after med school to take over for the old doctor, Kristian considered Otto someone to trust.
* * *
But the way his old friend was looking at him now, Kristian wondered what had happened to make the other man look at him with such pity. He hadn’t seen a look like that since John had died.
* * *
The look made Kristian feel almost as bad emotionally as he did physically, which was horrible. His head, in particular, ached much worse than one of his usual late-night-of-drinking headaches.
* * *
“Looking after you, you idiot,” Otto said with tender-hearted affection.
* * *
Kristian took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the light, and to let his stomach settle before he turned his gaze to his friend.
* * *
“Why do I need looking after?” Kristian asked as evenly as he could.
* * *
“I already told you, because you’re an idiot,” Otto said.
* * *
His face had grown serious and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together in front of him as if he were praying.
* * *
“You fell last night, Kristian.”
* * *
“That would explain the headache,” Kristian said, wincing as he tried to smile. “I feel like something is trying to burrow out of my eyeballs.”
* * *
“You were so drunk you fell and split your head open. I had to sew you up, but you almost died.” Otto’s voice was deadly serious.
* * *
Kristian could tell he was waiting for some kind of response to this revelation. But Kristian wasn’t sure how to respond.
* * *
He’d fallen plenty of times. Dozens of people had claimed that he had almost died. And yet, here he was.
* * *
Somehow, he had an aura of invincibility—whereas John had done everything right and died anyway.
* * *
“Yeah? Well, thank you kindly for your services, Doc,” Kristian said, closing his eyes again and turning his head away.
* * *
“Kristian, you can’t keep this up or you’re going to end up dead.” Otto’s pronouncement hung in the air with such finality that Kristian squirmed.
* * *
“I don’t care,” Kristian said. “Maybe that’s what I deserve.”
* * *
Otto sighed heavily and shook his head. “I know you miss John, Kristian. I do, too. We were all friends, yeah?
* * *
“You have to find a way to get over it, move on with your life. Do you think this is what John would want for you?” Otto asked, exasperation clearly present in his voice.
* * *
Kristian was quiet for a long moment. “Of course not,” he said finally. His chest tightened and he was having trouble getting a deep breath into his lungs.
* * *
He was struggling to find words to express what he wanted to say. Why was it so hard to just say that missing John was the most devastating experience of his life?
* * *
And how could he get past it when nothing felt right anymore?
* * *
Finally, he was able to say, “I know John would have wanted me to go on, have good things. Not to be stuck in this miserable excuse for a life.
* * *
“But the thing is, Otto, I just don’t know how to do that. John was always my guide through things like this.
* * *
“Without him I have to do it by myself, and I’m just not any good at it. Clearly.”
* * *
Otto nodded compassionately. “It’s the hardest thing you’ll probably ever do, but John would not have wanted you to waste your life, Kristian, just because he lost his.
* * *
“He would have wanted you to do all the things that he won’t be able to do. You have to live for him if you can’t live for yourself.”
* * *
Kristian felt tears well up in his eyes. He refused to cry, even in front of his friend. “I don’t even know if I know how to live anymore,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
* * *
“Just think about how much you’re breaking your parents’ hearts,” Otto said.
* * *
“They were devastated when John died, and now they’re losing you, too. How do you think they feel, watching their only living son slowly kill himself with alcohol?”
* * *
Kristian stared back at his friend in stunned silence. How was he supposed to respond to that?
* * *
Something about what Otto had said was seeping into his soul, but he couldn’t quite put it together. Instead, he closed his eyes and made a vague grunting noise at his friend.
* * *
He felt Otto’s hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours. Rhonda will be looking in on you, too, so if you need anything, let her know.”
* * *
With another grunt of affirmation, Kristian rolled onto his side with herculean effort. Once the pain and nausea had subsided, he squinted into the dim light of the room.
* * *
Facing the wall helped dull the pain caused by the light. On this side, things felt slightly less excruciating.
* * *
All the things that Otto had said about John were true, and since that was the case, Kristian knew that all the things Otto had said about him were true, as well.
* * *
Now, if he could just keep going through the pain of these realizations, he might actually find his way to the other side of all these feelings.
* * *
Living life for John, doing all the things that John would never be able to do made Kristian feel a terror like he had never known before. What if he failed in such a huge undertaking?
* * *
Letting John down would be worse than missing him. But if he never tried, Kristian would never know what he was actually capable of doing.
* * *
Then, there were his parents, who he really did love. The fact that he was trying to shut them out just attested to the fact that he did care about them—he didn’t want them to have to deal with their screw up of a son.
* * *
Yet what Otto had said made sense, as well. They, too, had been heartbroken by John’s death, and their living son was wasting away his life.
* * *
Otto’s pronouncement about how he had almost died the night before also made an impact on Kristian. He knew he’d had some pretty close brushes with death before, but he had never felt so bad physically or emotionally.
* * *
Maybe this was the closest. Maybe some supreme power was trying to get him to wake up and pay attention.
* * *
Kristian didn’t know what he believed, but he did know that something had kept him in this world. There had to be a reason that he was still alive.