“I’ll reserve judgment on this. You’ve said it before. I hope you have learned because the next lesson will be harsher than either of us wants to contemplate, but I won’t hesitate. Your behavior needs to improve, girl.” He squeezed her bottom through the skirts in warning.
“I promise, Silas. I love you.”
“I love you too, my prisoner.”
Chapter 15
They had been traveling for eight days now and were just entering Idaho at Soda Springs. Clara had been hearing about this for weeks; Silas and Angus had talked in the evenings about the healing properties of the water and how it was carbonated and warm. Women did their laundry and they filled ceramic containers with it. However, Angus said that they’d have to find a stream for the livestock that wasn’t carbonated—their bellies swelled and didn’t fare as well as humans with it.
She could hardly wait to experience it. It amazed her how much she had since leaving North Carolina and picking up the Widow Wagon in Missouri. Their wagon had been fortunate—there had been no deaths, no births, and no serious illness. She worried about her girls—and her unborn baby. Fall was coming and she didn’t want any fevers or illnesses to take her family. They had been through enough in the past couple years—she and Angus both—between losing spouses, and Angus losing both his girls too, they needed no more excitement or tragedy.
Soda Springs would be where Lizzie and Margie would be meeting their new spouses. They were good women and she’d miss them, but it would be nice to have it be just their little family for the rest of the trip. The nights were already cooler, and Minnie knew that it would be October before they’d arrive in Oregon to make their home.
Angus had been a sheriff in his hometown in Missouri, and they had discussed that he’d look for a similar job there until the baby was born and spring came.
Now that the Union Pacific Railroad was almost done—nearing its completion on the East Coast, they’d be able to take the train home, selling the wagon here for settlers or pioneers looking to go to California for the Gold Rush.
Clara plodded behind the wagon with the other women and her girls. With the cooler temperatures outside, they could travel further, not getting worn out by the heat.
“Lizzie, do you know much about your new husband?” Clara wanted to be sure Lizzie felt comfortable with her new situation. If she wasn’t, Clara would be asking Angus to take her with them to Oregon. That went for Margie too. These were good women and she didn’t want to see them hurt and all alone in Idaho. The good news at least was that Lizzie and Margie would be in the same town; they could meet for tea and socials.
“Oh, yes. I’m very excited to see Pastor Thompkins. He’s been in Soda Springs his whole life and even though he’s thirty-five, he’s never married. Guess you could say he was married to his ministry. It’s difficult setting up a church and tending to his flock.” Lizzie’s cheeks were flushed in the afternoon sun, her beautiful blonde hair waving in the gentle breeze.
Clara couldn’t imagine a better woman to be a pastor’s wife. Lizzie would be perfect for the job; she was quiet and demure, and she seemed never given over to temper, although she had no doubt it was hidden in her somewhere. She didn’t press her opinions on anyone, only giving them when asked. But once engaged, Lizzie was friendly and engaging—she’d do well in a church congregation.
“Where will you live?”
“We’ll have a house that is near the church—it’s a house that James already lives in. He says it has three bedrooms. And—” Lizzie smiled so big her dimples showed. “—it has an upstairs. I’ve never lived in a house with an upstairs. We just had a cabin in Missouri.”
Clara giggled, happy to see Lizzie’s excitement. “I know. I was only used to a cabin as well in Missouri. But where Minnie is from in North Carolina, she said there are big plantation houses, and most of them have not only an upstairs but some have three floors. It’s very different from what we’re used to.”
She turned to address Margie. “How are you feeling about meeting your new husband?”
“Well, John Watson is a good man. He lost his wife about a year ago, and we’re both older. We’re looking more for companionship than we’re looking for love and children. Does that make sense? It’s not to say we won’t fall in love, but it’s more important not to be alone. To have someone to talk to, eat with, sleep with, and grow old with. Loneliness is a hard pill to swallow. It’s easier to deal with life when you have someone at your side to share it with.”
Clara nodded, although she wasn’t as old as Margie. Having lost her husband, she understood the need to be with someone. And even though she wanted more children and the love of a good husband, she had no problem understanding the need to be friends as well as lovers.
“I’m sure you’ll fall in love again too. You’re a good woman, Margie. What does John do for a living?”
She smiled weakly, looking tired from this long journey west. “He’s a blacksmith in town. I’ll be just up the road from Lizzie. Not exactly sure how far away but both our husbands live in town.” Margie wiped the sweat from her brow. “You’ll have to come visit us once spring comes.”
“Yes, we shall. I don’t know if we’ll be staying in Oregon or if we’ll move back to Missouri. We’ll just have to see how things work once the baby arrives; he seems to be active already.”
“You said he. Do you think it’s a boy?” Lizzie’s eyes widened with a broad smile.
“I do. This pregnancy is so different from my last two. I know Angus says he doesn’t care, and I don’t either, but I think we’d both be beyond blessed to have a son, and I have no doubt that the girls would be delighted to have a brother.”
Margie nodded. “I know that feeling. I hope for both of you that you’re given a healthy baby boy.”
It was at that point that Angus rode up beside them. “Clara, it’s time for you to either nap or ride up on the wagon with Sam.”
Clara loudly sighed. “Angus, it’s not that warm, and I’m fine. I like walking, and I think it’s probably good for the youngun’ too.”
“This isn’t’ up for debate. Are you riding with Sam or napping? Choose one before I choose for you.” His gaze narrowed and his lips thinned in a slow brew of irritation.
Knowing that any arguments at this point would result in punishment, and she surely didn’t want that since the marks hadn’t disappeared from her last whipping, she obediently said. “Well I guess I’ll nap.”
“Good girl.” Angus whistled to Sam, motioning for him to stop the wagon so Clara could climb. Once he saw that she was lying down and settled, he waved Nellie and Rose over to him, and had them join her for a nap; Clara had no doubt it was so they could keep an eye on her. It seemed that her over-protective husband had pulled the girls into his web of deceit and hovering.
“Y’all sleep well. I’ll be back to get you when we’re ready to camp for the night.” He dropped the heavy burlap flap on the back of the wagon, shrouding them in darkness. And although she felt annoyed with him, Clara felt herself drift off almost immediately. She always forgot how exhausted a woman became during pregnancy.
* * *
Angus drove the wagon up to the mercantile in Soda Springs. It was a bustling town, busy with people coming for the healing nature of the Soda Springs, a stop for the wagon trains, and a place for pioneers and travelers to gather warm supplies for the trip further west to Oregon or California.
But first and foremost, he had a message for Margie and Lizzie’s husbands, alerting them to their arrival. Both the women looked nervous, and Angus didn’t blame them. Traveling across the great nation of America, battling disease and death to marry a man you’ve never met before had to be a troublesome and fearsome task. But the women of the Widow Wagon were made of stern stuff; they didn’t wilt under pressure like many women. Women who were used to utilizing a fainting couch were not the ones that traveled out west.
The town of Soda Springs seemed cleaner and better kept than many. The signs
on the saloons, pharmacy, mercantile, and such, were freshly painted. The boardwalks appeared to be newly constructed. So far on this trip, Angus was impressed with Soda Springs.
Angus jumped down from the wagon, walking straight into the mercantile. He found the storekeeper behind the counter. “Howdy, Sir, I’m Angus Warren, wagon master of the Widow Wagon, and I have two women here that are mail order brides who’re to meet up with a James Thompkins and a John Watson.”
“Oh yes, the pastor and the blacksmith. I can have my son go tell them they’re here if you don’t mind waiting?” The man motioned across the room to a blonde haired boy of about nine.
“No rush. I have to gather some supplies while we’re here, but I thank you.”
“Matthew, run up to Pastor Thompkins and the blacksmith, tell them their brides are here waiting on them.”
“Yes, Pa!” The boy shouted and ran out the door.
Angus pulled down three warm, new blankets and asked for some shawls for his girls to keep them warm. “Do you have a pencil and writing book?”
“Oh sure. You needing school supplies?” The storekeeper pulled down a leather-bound notebook that was kept closed with a thin strip of leather.
“Well… as a matter of fact, yes. Grab me three of them, please. If you can make them all different colors, that would be nice.”
The man pulled down dark brown, light brown, and black leather bound notebooks adding them to the blankets and shawls.
Angus picked up spices, flour, sugar, and some candy sticks for his girls. The bell over the door rang, and he saw Clara walk in looking for him.
She brightened when she spotted him looking at combs and barrettes. “There you are. I wondered where you’d disappeared to. Margie and Lizzie look like they’re ready to faint from nerves. Are they coming along?”
Angus nodded at her. “Oh yeah. Hey, look what I found.” He picked up the notebook. “I found your bad girl notebook.”
Clara gasped, looking around to make sure no one had heard him. “Angus! Someone will hear.”
He chuckled, tossing the notebook back onto the counter. “Wouldn’t even need one if my wife could behave herself while carrying my child. Watch yourself, girl, or you’ll be writing in your new notebook before you can go to bed.”
Her face blushed a light pink, and it tickled him inside to see her so embarrassed about writing down her misbehaviors. If he’d known it would have this reaction, he’d have instituted it a long time ago.
Once the items were paid for, Angus wrapped his arm around Clara’s shoulder and walked with her to put them in the wagon.
Matthew came running up the dusty dirt road, shouting as he ran. “They’re coming! They’re coming for their brides!”
An announcement such as that wasn’t ignored quickly in the town. Women, and even men-folk, came out of the buildings and gathered near the wagon to see the couples meet for the first time. Angus was always amazed at how excited people got in the town to see the couples together. Romance—for men and women—was very much still alive.
People liked the thrill of two souls meeting and meshing—the twinkle in an eye or a dimpled smile. The flushing of a neck and a crooked, uncomfortable smile. A touch of a hand, the tip of a hat—all the things that signal not only respect but the beginnings of the promise of love.
Love at first sight kept hope alive for the young, brought back memories for the old, and tears of the loss for the widowed. He’d never tire of watching it himself. And once again, he found himself thinking how much he’d miss the Widow Wagon now that people were taking the trains out west. In 1870, there was no need for the Oregon, California, or Utah trails. They bought a ticket in Missouri and within a week they’d arrive in California.
But would there be a meeting of mail order brides with the trains?
He wondered. He supposed there would be—if there were transportation and a loss of spouses, there would be a need and desire for mail order brides. Maybe. Just maybe… there would be an option for the widows.
Chapter 16
Silas forgot how much he enjoyed a beautiful Wyoming day, blue sky, cool breezes blowing, and not a cloud to be seen. He had hitched the horses to the family carriage and told his parents that he was taking his bride to Green River for dinner and a hotel room. He had a fun evening planned and could hardly wait.
Minnie had dressed in an emerald green gown; it turned her blue eyes into a beautiful blue-green. He swore he was mesmerized by her. How? How did he become such a fortunate man to have not only met such a beauty but to marry her as well?
He stopped his carriage just outside the Laurel Hotel; its bright white paint in contrast to the trees changing for fall. The reds, oranges, and yellows were brilliant near the Green River. They had barely exited the carriage when a large black steam locomotive chugged its way across the black bridge over the river, the large billowing clouds of steam rolling over the black steel. Silas had read about dragons as a child in books at school, and he couldn’t help but think it looked as he always imagined—a dragon puffing in anger. He wasn’t sure he liked how it changed the quaint, placid view he’d grown up with, but at the same time, he knew he’d love having the convenience of traveling to other states.
“Come along, Minnie. Let’s check into our room before we go to the shops.” He helped her step down the small steel steps, grabbing their carpetbag with their clothes and necessities for the night. “Every man in town will be envious of my bride; my little captive.”
Entering the small foyer of the hotel, there were small tables with lanterns and padded chairs for quaint gatherings. They walked across the patterned rug to the counter, tapping a bell for the manager.
“Hello, Sir, Ma’am. How can I assist you?” The middle-aged man with spectacles on his nose and a black suit quickly opened his logbook, grabbing a gold pen out of the inkwell as he addressed them.
“My wife and I have room for the night. Silas and Minnie Stone.”
“Oh, Marshal Stone. I’m sorry; it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I’m Charles Hanford; I didn’t realize you had taken a wife. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Stone.” He cleared his throat, searching the logbook. “Yes, here you are. Would you like to pay now, Marshal Stone, or wait until tomorrow morning?”
Silas pulled out his embossed leather wallet, extracting the money for the gentleman.
“Thank you, Sir.” Charles reached behind him grabbing a large skeleton key on a round metal ring. “Here is your key. Do enjoy your stay. We’ll bring your bag to your room, and if you purchase any items from the local stores or shops, feel free to ask them to have a delivery boy bring them here and we’ll put them in your room for you.”
“Thank you, Charles. We’ll see you soon.”
After shopping for hats, parasols, dresses, under things, and more combs and ribbons than Silas wanted to know existed, he leaned into his wife and said, “I have a place I’d like to stop at for a bit. Something of interest, I believe, to both of us.” With a hand on the small of her back, Silas guided her out the door of the hat shop onto the boardwalk.
And when he pushed the door open to the doctor’s office, her eyes widened, and he had to restrain from laughing out loud. Instead, he smirked at her, nodding for her to enter first.
“Marshal, are you feeling ill? Is something wrong?”
“Hey, Doc. I’m fine. I don’t think you’ve met my wife yet. This is Minnie Stone. Minnie, this is Doctor Peck.”
“Hello, Minnie. It’s so sweet to meet you. What can I do for the two of you today?” Doc took his bifocals off, intently waiting for an answer.
“Minnie, you have something to ask the doc for, right? Something you wanted us to purchase for home?” Silas put a hand on the small of her back nudging her forward, and when she looked like she may defy him, he rested his heavy hand on her little backside.
“Uh… well, we were… I guess—” Minnie pulled her plump red lip between her teeth, worrying it.
“No need to be em
barrassed, Minnie, I’ve heard everything. Trust me.” The doctor winked at her, obviously trying to ease her discomfort.
Minnie pushed by glaring at Silas over her shoulder, quickly turning away when he arched an eyebrow at her. She’d pay for that bit of rebellion later.
“I need a clyster for home.” Her face flushed from her neck to her hairline, and again, he found it absolutely adorable.
“Oh, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This is the 1870s; women everywhere have these at home; enemas not only help with constipation but many other maladies. You’ll feel so much better having one available.” He bustled over to his closet, pulling a box down from a shelf.
He stopped before walking over to them with two. “I have one that would need to be administered by someone else, my dear. And I have another one that you can administer yourself, for times when you’re uncomfortable and no one is around to help you.”
Minnie quickly responded with, “Oh no, I need to do it by my—”
Silas interrupted. “We’ll take the one that requires assistance. As a husband, I see that duty being mine—all mine.”
Minnie narrowed her gaze at him, her lips thinned in apparent anger.
“Well, actually, I even have something that is quite new and many of my patients find it useful. It can be used both ways.” He went back to the closet, pulling down what looked like a footstool. He set it on the counter, holding up the syringe type clyster that Minnie would need assistance with, he dropped the enema into a hole made for it at the front of the bench to show them the placement. He then attached a tube to the clyster, feeding it under the stool, pushing the nozzle up from the leather seat on the top of the stool. After filling the syringe enema with soapy water, he attached all the tubes.
“A woman would kneel over the stool, straddling it and slowly insert the nozzle into her anus, once comfortable… or as comfortable as you can get, she would then depress the plunger pushing the water up into her bowels, wait until she was uncomfortable and then evacuating the contents.” He had pressed the plunger on a bit to show how the water came through the slight nozzle.
The Renegade's Captive (The Widow Wagon Book 4) Page 13