“Really, Georgia! It’s not as bad as all that, is it?” Bishop chirped. “You may even grow to like me in time.”
Charles looked at his silent daughter and then over at Bishop, shrugging in bewilderment at the older man. Neither of them had any idea where this conversation was going.
Georgia continued to stare at the floor for a long moment and then spoke in a quiet, even voice: “You mean I might grow to like you just like a woman in prison might grow to like the bars on the window of her cell, Mr. Bishop?”
The men shifted uncomfortably on their sofas. Georgia continued, her voice louder now: “You mean a caged bird can learn to sing, Mr. Bishop? Is that what you’re saying to me?” She looked up at Abe and met his eyes. They were cold, annoyed, and something cruel crouched in their depths. She held their gaze defiantly.
“I know nothing of poetry, Georgia...” Bishop began.
“Please...call me Ms. Warton.”
“As you wish.” Bishop’s face reddened with anger. “But in June we shall be married here in Boston, and I advise you to acquaint yourself with the idea, Ms. Warton,” he said icily. “Your father and I have an agreement, and if you decide not to appear, your whole family will shortly appear in Boston Almshouse! Good day to you both.”
Abe stood up quickly and lurched toward the parlor door, his cane thumping the floor loudly with each step. Charles followed after him. “Let me get your hat for you, Abraham!” Bishop plowed ahead without saying a word and angrily snatched up his derby hat on his way to the door.
“Please don’t be dismayed, my friend,” Charles pleaded. “Georgia didn’t mean what she said. She’s a very excitable young woman. Reads a lot of poetry, you know.”
“That daughter of yours needs to learn some manners, Warton,” Bishop growled over his shoulder before slamming the front door behind him without another word. Charles watched the old man climb slowly into a waiting carriage and bark orders to his driver. The driver whipped the reins and the horses started quickly away.
Charles turned back toward the parlor. Georgia was sitting on the couch with a sheepish look on her face. “I hope that wasn’t a deal breaker for you, Daddy,” she said apologetically.
Charles grunted in response. After a moment, he let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. “No. I’m sure he won’t give up that easily. But please try not to insult the man so gratuitously next time, Pumpkin.”
“You’re not mad at me then?” Georgia asked.
“How could anyone stay angry at a daughter like you, Ms. Warton?” Charles replied, a smile appearing on his face.
She rose up and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh Papa, what a world we live in! I wish I didn’t have to marry that man.”
Charles Warton looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. “I wish there was another way too, Pumpkin. I really do.”
* * *
As the time drew nearer for Georgia and Abe’s wedding, her anxiety grew with every passing day. Although her steely resolve remained intact to do the right thing for the family, Georgia began to doubt if she could actually go through with it. The thought of walking down the aisle as Abraham Bishop stood at the altar filled her with a sense of dread that she could not shake.
Abe appeared at the house again, a month after the first disastrous attempt to call on her. But the second time went no better than the first. Despite her best effort to be civil, it ended with Georgia comparing the betrothal to an old man robbing a baby carriage. Bishop was offended and angry: “Yes, I’m an old man,” he growled at her, “but I’m even more stubborn and intransigent than you are, child! You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, Ms. Warton.” He raised his cane in the air with one hand, shaking it at her to punctuate every word: “You will be my bride in June, and you’ll see what these insults will get you then!”
This time her father was deeply upset by the incident. Instead of returning to the parlor to speak with Georgia, Charles went upstairs where Emilia was waiting for him. The timid woman had again been too afraid to attend Bishop’s call. She could only wait alone, hoping for the best. Now she comforted her husband as best she could. “Don’t fret, Charles. Georgia will come around.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he moaned. “Those two have fought like cats and dogs from the first sighting of each other. What are we going to do, Emilia? She hates the man.”
2
Late one February night in the New Year, Georgia was curled up alone on the sofa reading a book of poetry. A single oil lamp illuminated the Warton parlor. She was trying to distract her mind from the constant worry that had plagued her since the engagement and hoped that reading a few verses would help her relax and get to sleep. It wasn’t working.
Bishop had made no more attempts to call on her, but neither had he given any sign of withdrawing from the marriage plans. She felt trapped, and her soul was in constant turmoil at the prospect of what their wedding date in June would bring.
The sound of a carriage pulling up in front of the house caught Georgia’s attention. It must be Elias, she thought. Out making merry again. Her big brother, twenty-seven years old, stumbled into the foyer. “Hello, house!” he called out, poking his head around the corner and spying her on the sofa.
“What are you still doing up, dear sister?” he crowed with an inebriated smile. “Thought you’d be saving your strength for your Romeo.”
“Hello Elias,” she said flatly. “Must you be out drinking every night of the week and then come tripping in to wake people up with your shouting?”
Elias mugged an exaggerated frown. “Just making a little merry! But I understand. You’re a sour grape because Mother and Father are making you walk the plank with that lecher Bishop. And you know what? I don’t blame you one bit, sis. If I had to crawl into bed with that old geezer, I’d be climbing the walls too!” He laughed loudly as if she should find this remark hilarious. But then, Elias had never shown much concern for her feelings one way or the other, in any situation.
“Shut up, you drunk,” William’s voice called from the other door of the parlor.
“Oh-ho!” said Elias, turning his attention to the younger Warton. “Little brother to the rescue, as always. Sticking up for big sister, are we?”
“Somebody has to. Better than being a drunken cad who doesn’t care about anybody but himself,” William shot back.
“Stop it, both of you,” Georgia intervened. “You’re going to wake up Mama and Daddy.”
“Someone needs to wake them up,” Elias chortled darkly. “They’re selling you down the river for a barrel of cash, Georgie girl.”
William walked quickly into the room and took Georgia’s hand. “Come on, sis. I’ve got something to show you.” He led her out of the parlor and they started up the stairs. Elias stood in the doorway watching them go, swaying unsteadily on his feet.
At the top of the landing they turned into William’s room. He shut the door quietly then pulled open a drawer in his desk and grabbed a couple of newspapers. “Here,” he said, placing them in her hands. “Read these.”
“I don’t feel like browsing the paper at one in the morning,” Georgia groaned, “I just want to go to bed now.”
“Look at what it’s called,” he insisted. The boy took one of the newspapers and held it up in front of her face. “Matrimonial News. It’s a weekly that comes from Kansas City. Guys out west who are looking for a wife put ads in here. They tell you what they do for a living and everything. Even how tall they are.”
Georgia grabbed the paper from him and read the banner underneath the masthead:
Women need a man’s strong arm to support her in life’s struggle, and men need a woman’s love.
She flipped the paper open, found one of the bachelor’s ads, and read it aloud:
“A gentleman of 30 years old, 5 feet 3 inches, doing a good business in the city, desires the acquaintance of a young, intelligent, and refined lady possessed of some means, of a loving disposition from 18 to 23 and one who could m
ake home a paradise.”
“Well I’m too old for that one,” she said in a defeated tone. “What are you trying to do here, Willy, find me a husband?”
“Yes,” he grinned.
She stared at him for a moment. “You’re serious?”
He nodded determinedly.
“But what about Mama and Daddy? If I don’t show up in June then Bishop won’t bail out the company. The family will be ruined.”
“That’s not true,” William replied. “I found out that Bishop inflated the freighter’s recovery costs to get his way with Father. He’s been lying to us all along and I’m going to prove it. You know what that means, sis? We’re off the hook! We don’t need Bishop’s loan and you don’t have to marry the old goat.”
Georgia was stunned by the news. “How did you get this information?”
“It doesn’t matter right now. Listen, it’s going to take months to prove what Evil Abe has been up to. I’ve got to be very careful and thorough because Father will never believe it without the seeing the proof. You know what he’s like. So that means you have to get out of Boston before the wedding, sis. I’ve got some cash saved up and if you sell your jewelry, that’ll be enough to get as far away from here as you want. Don’t worry, I’ll handle Mother and Father while you’re gone.”
An opportunity to escape marrying Abe Bishop without bankrupting the family was all Georgia needed to hear. She embraced William’s plan wholeheartedly, trusting him completely. She didn’t need to know all the details of Bishop’s corruption – she didn’t even care what they were. All she cared about was that a way out had appeared. An honorable way out.
Sweet William! He had always looked out for her. Now she marveled at how he had come through again. Just a boy of seventeen years old, yet so wise and kind. There was an urgent question pressing upon her mind, however.
“Where will I go?”
William looked down at the copies of Matrimonial News in Georgia’s hands. “You always said you wanted to meet a real cowboy some day, sis. Maybe this is the time.” He smiled at her. “So? What do you think?”
She stared at the window behind him, letting the new reality of the situation sink in for a moment. “Okay. What have I got to lose?” She burst into a happy grin and threw her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, little brother! What would I have done without you?” She kissed him on the cheek and his face flushed with embarrassment.
“Go on now, get out of here,” William scolded with mock annoyance, waving her out of the room. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Georgia turned away with a smile, stole down the hallway to her room and threw herself excitedly on the bed. A thrill of freedom and relief ran through her body. She stretched out deliciously and let the feeling wash over her. After a minute, she closed her eyes and whispered a prayer: “Lord, this has all happened so fast. Thank you for making an honorable way out of the situation so that I don’t have to marry Mr. Bishop! Help Papa and Mama to understand. And I pray, dear Father, please help me find a husband who will be good for me and I for him. Wherever You choose to lead me. Amen.”
She opened the Matrimonial News. “Well, no use wasting any time then, I guess.” Flipping over a couple of pages, Georgia closed her eyes, reached out an index finger, and placed it squarely in the center of the page. Then she opened her eyes and read the ad her finger had landed upon:
Texas cattle rancher and sheriff, 30, near six foot tall, seeks mature woman to share matrimony and hard work in west hill country. Reply - 294
“Well, what do you know? There’s a cowboy in Texas looking for a wife,” she giggled. Georgia grabbed a sheet of paper from the bedside table and topped up her inkwell. Then, dipping the tip of a feather-quill pen into the ink, she began to write a reply to ad number 294.
Dear Sheriff. I am a Boston debutante fleeing from an arranged engagement.
“Oh, dear,” she said, “that will never do! I don’t want to scare the man off in the first sentence.” She threw the piece of paper into the wastebasket and started again.
Dear Sheriff,
I am a seamstress living in Boston, Massachusetts. I am 25 years old, 5’ 5” with green eyes, auburn hair, and a fine figure. I am an excellent cook and not afraid of hard work. I would love to come to Texas to meet you and see if we are a good match to share the matrimony you desire. I can pay for my own ticket. Please write back at your earliest convenience.
Yours truly,
Georgia Warton
PS. I also like to play chess.
The next day she posted the letter but was careful to use a return address at a girlfriend’s house. She didn’t want the sheriff’s reply – if he replied at all – to be sent to the Warton home and somehow get intercepted by her parents or Elias. That would be disastrous. Her girlfriend, Annabelle, was married but her husband was an easygoing fellow and wouldn’t mind the mail arrangement at all.
* * *
A month later, Georgia was thrilled when Annabelle presented her with a letter posted from Sonora, Texas, by a Mr. James McCloud.
“Oh, that’s a fine strong name isn’t it, Annie? ‘James McCloud.’ I love it!”
“I wonder if he carries a six-shooter?” her friend giggled.
“He’s probably killed six or seven outlaws in gunfights, no doubt,” Georgia said with a chuckle. She tore the letter open and read it as Annabelle looked excitedly over her shoulder.
Dear Ms. Warton,
Thank you for your recent reply. I’m tickled pink to hear that you enjoy chess. I’ve been playing for years myself. It’s also good to hear you’re an excellent cook and a seamstress. Those things come in very handy on a ranch.
“What? You told him you’re a seamstress?” Annabelle exclaimed.
“What else was I going to say, Annie? Tell him I’m a Boston deb running away from an engagement to a rich old man? He would have thrown my letter in the garbage.”
I and my brother David own a fine spread near town running beef cattle. Our Aunt Martha cooks and runs the house. I’m sheriff of Sutton County, but am home most nights. If this sounds good to you I would very much like to meet you, Ms. Warton. The train stops in San Antonio and from there it’s two days by mail stage to Sonora.
Yours truly,
James McCloud
“That sounds so romantic, Georgia: a cattle ranch in Texas! Can I come with you?” her friend smiled.
“Yes, absolutely. You and Alexander can chaperone us at the square dance on our first date.”
Annabelle laughed and then stopped abruptly. “Hey! You’ve got to do something about your wardrobe.”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you kidding? You told him you’re a seamstress. You can’t show up in Texas wearing your Boston best. You’ve got to downsize and downgrade your entire closet, girl!”
* * *
Georgia rushed home and wrote a quick reply to Texas.
Dear Mr. McCloud,
I have just received your letter and would be thrilled to come to Sonora and meet you and your family. I also look forward very much to playing chess with you! I will leave Boston in one week’s time.
Yours sincerely,
Georgia Warton
She went directly to the post office to send the letter, then stopped by Annabelle’s house on the way home.
“That’s it, Annie, I’m on my way to Texas in a week. I just posted my reply.”
“I can’t believe it, this is so crazy romantic,” Annabelle smiled.
“Yes. It’s such a refreshing change from all those rude and boring callers over the years. Not to mention you know who.” Georgia rolled her eyes. “William reminded me that I always wanted to marry a cowboy someday. Maybe it really will come true. Who knows?”
“Are you scared?” Annabelle asked.
“Nah! What’s to be scared of? A fifteen-hundred-mile train trip all by myself and then a stagecoach ride across the wilds of Texas. It’s a piece of cake.”
They both laughed. “
I’ve always loved your humor, Georgie.”
* * *
William and Georgia spent the next week smuggling her expensive wardrobe and jewelry out of the Warton house, piece by piece, and then selling it at various pawn shops around the city. With the money they raised doing this – plus a small amount of cash William had saved up for her – Georgia was able to purchase a second-hand seamstress wardrobe and a train ticket for Texas.
She stored her new clothes at Annabelle and Alexander’s house, along with a set of used luggage like the kind they thought a seamstress would own. Her very expensive luggage she gave to Annabelle as a farewell present.
On the appointed day, Georgia arrived at Annabelle’s in her debutante dress for the last time.
“Well, this is it, Annie. I want you to have this dress. I won’t be needing it anymore.”
“Oh, it’s gorgeous! Thank you.” They embraced warmly and Georgia went to Annabelle’s room to finish packing her bags and change into a plain gray traveling dress.
At 7:00 a.m. William appeared in a coach hired to get them to the train station. After he and the driver had loaded the luggage, the three of them climbed aboard and with a flick of the reins they were off.
* * *
“See? Told you so. I knew you’d marry a cowboy, sis,” William joked as they stood on the platform waiting for the westbound train to depart.
“You did not!” Georgia teased.
“Yeah, you’re right. I made that up.” They all laughed. “But I really do hope it works out for you two. You deserve someone special, sis, someone you can be happy with. That old geezer Bishop wasn’t the one for you.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Georgia laughed, then gave him a long hug. “Thanks for this, little brother. Thanks for everything.” They both blinked back tears and she turned to her friend to say good-bye. “I’m gonna miss you, Annie.”
The Redemption 0f A Hunted Bride (Historical Western Romance) Page 28