Emily: Army Mail Order Bride

by Mercy Levy

  Mitch eased back toward the front door, keeping his arms extended out in front of him to block my broom. His bare feet scuffled across my clean floor nervous and anxious to make a clean run for it. “I just took a bath last week, Nola, honest.”

  “Take another one,” I snapped in disgust and swept Mitch out onto the front walk. As I did, Judge Green walked up, studied Mitch, studied my broom, and then shook his head. “Not a word,” I warned.

  Judge Green rubbed his thick gray mustache with amused fingers and then glanced up into a bright, blue, sky so clear that it seemed like Heaven might be melting onto the earth somehow. Sitting in the middle of the sky was a blazing sun, nearly bright enough to blind you. There was no breeze and the humidity was enough to soak the clothes on your back. “You're Pa around, Nola?”

  “Does it look like Pa is foolish enough to be out walking in this heat?” I asked Judge Green, with more sass than was really necessary.

  Judge Green smiled and continued to stare up into the sky. “The heat has never bothered me. I enjoy it, actually.”

  Mitch stared at Judge Green like the man was crazy. How could a man be wearing a full gray suit, a gray hat and gray mustache on a blistering day right in the middle of July? “Why do you want to see Nola's Pa?” Mitch asked Judge Green.

  “Mind your own business,” I fussed at Mitch. With hot, impatient hands, I reached up and attempted to make my sweaty red hair appear as presentable as possible. No sense in looking a mess in front of a man who had saved my Pa from a rope in his younger days. “Want to come inside to my bakery? I have some fresh bread ready. It's mighty hot in there, but it sure ain't no better out here.”

  Judge Green looked down at me and frowned. “Nola, dear, for a woman beautiful enough to conquer the hearts of an army of men, you lack grace.”

  “I ain't got no time for grace,” I told Judge Green in a firm voice. I also didn't have time for another lecture on how to become more ladylike, either. I knew Judge Green meant well, but I sure didn't look forward to his scolding. I was a twenty-three-year-old woman who had to get her bread baked and her bags packed. “Pa will be coming by after supper. You can come back then if you wish to see him.”

  Judge Green sighed. “I came by with the hopes of convincing your Pa to change your mind, Nola. What sense is there in traveling to the Nevada Territory? Why you have no family out there; your Pa is the only family you have. The people of Pine Green are your family. Please, reconsider such a foolish and hasty decision and stay home where you belong.”

  I felt my temper rise and the words were out of my mouth before I thought them through. “Listen to me, the both of you...” I yelled and raised my broom into the hot air, “my business ain't anyone's mind, and do you hear me? If I want to travel out west and marry myself a man who has been writing me for the longest time, then I will. Pa and I already talked and he gave me his blessings. Now get, the both of you!”

  Judge Green sighed heavily. “I promised your mother that I would watch after you, Nola. If you want to honor her memory, rest her soul, then stay in Pine Green where you belong. You and your Pa have a good life here. Your bakery does very well. Why you can't even keep up with half of your orders.”

  I stared deep into Judge Green's eyes. I wanted to tell him that I had no want to spend the rest of my life baking bread in a hot kitchen while the world danced around me in laughter and adventure. I wanted to tell him that I wanted a decent husband who would give me children, take me places, buy me dresses, build me a house, hold me when I was scared, comfort me when I cried, love me at my worst, and smiled with me at my best. Instead, I quelled my temper lowered my voice. “I'll be leaving come first thing in the morning. Come to town and say goodbye to me, okay? The both of you.”

  Mitch’s eyes became sad, and he turned and walked away toward the filthy Silver Hat Saloon that I hated so much. Judge Green sighed, nodded his head, and followed after Mitch. I watched them walk toward the saloon, across a hot, dry street, lined with buildings that were as familiar to me as my own hand—buildings filled with people who, for the most part, were fair enough to be called family and friends. It wasn't that I hated the town or the people. “I just want a chance to be more for myself,” I whispered and felt sadness sting my heart. Taking a deep breath, I turned and walked back into my hot bakery and went back to the kitchen and tended to the bread. As I worked I began to think about Nevada, the land, the people, and what my new life might be like with my husband, not having a clue about the adventure the Lord was about to send me on.

  <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

  Traveling across the land was much more difficult than I had anticipated. Reaching the town of Blue Edge, Nevada took forever, or so it seemed to me. Because patience had never been one of my strong traits, I arrived, well, a bit grumpy and a bit ill. I was fuming mad and ready to tear the world in half. “You ain't fit to drive a donkey across a mud puddle!” I yelled at the man who was covered with dust and trail stink. “You could have killed us.”

  The man ignored my remark, climbed up to the roof of the stage coach, grabbed my two brown bags, and threw them down onto the dirty ground. “Walk next time,” he said in a bored voice and spit chewing tobacco juice out of his mouth at my feet.

  “Come down from there and tell me that and I'll wallop you clear over the moon!” I dared the man, feeling my cheeks turn fiery red. “You had no right to be running them poor horses so fast. Why, we nearly went flying off that last curve into this town. I'll be complaining to the stage coach company about you.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders. “Go on ahead and fuss about me,” he told me and worked his way down into his driver's seat. “I'm the only man who will drive this route due to the Chatsworth Gang. I'm surprised they didn't stop us. Must be a slow day for them.”

  Before I could say another word, the man let out a loud yell and ordered the horses pulling the stage to get moving. The horses took off running, leaving me standing in a town that was no bigger than my thumb. And to make matters worse, it was cold and snowing. Being a woman from the southern part of Georgia, I was not accustomed to such weather. The thin green coat I was wearing sure wasn't keeping me warm, either. “Hope a skunk sits on your face,” I mumbled under my breath. I picked up my bags and looked around my new home with a heavy grief. My heart sank.

  All that stood before me was a dirt street lined with wooden buildings that appeared half empty. The hotel was boarded up along with the general store. A wooden sign hanging down from the front porch of the general store was swaying back and forth in the wing, making an eerie creaking sound. Tall, large, trees standing behind the buildings were thrashing in the wind like angry soldiers trying to escape from their chains. The trees and buildings cast long shadows up and down the street, making me feel a bit like I was being watched. Feeling my anger transform into a bit of nervousness, I glanced up at a dark sky. “Sun is setting,” I told myself and looked around again. The hotel was closed and my husband-to-be was nowhere to be seen. What was I to do and where was I supposed to go? “Lord, please,” I whispered and asked for help. “If this ain't Your Will, send me back home.”

  No sooner than the words left my mouth did a horse come trotting down the street carrying a man wearing a black coat and a black hat. When the man spotted me standing alone on the deserted street, he stopped. “Lady, you lost?” he asked in a pensive voice.

  I sat down my bags, placed my hand over the white bonnet covering my hair, and shook my head. “I'm waiting for a man named William McDaily.”

  “William McDaily was killed last month,” the man told me matter-of-factly. “McDaily was helping the Chatsworth gang and when the law caught up with him. He decided to go down shooting.”

  “I don't understand,” I said as confusion ripped through me. “Why, I've been writing that man for over two years now. You mean to sit there and tell me I've been sending letters to a criminal?”

  “William McDaily killed two men and helped the Chatsworth gang rob eight stages. If t
hat's the man you've been swapping letters with, then you've been writing to a skunk.”

  “Good grief,” I exclaimed. “What is Pa going to think? What’s everyone going to think? I spent so much time defending my decision, I can’t go back and tell them how wrong I was,” I said, slightly terrified by the prospect. The man gave me a strange look. “Where are you from?”

  “Georgia,” I said and sighed. With night falling, the hotel closed, my future husband dead, and my heart broke, I sure didn't know what to do “When is the next stage?” I asked.

  “Week from now.”

  “Good grief,” I said again and looked around the eerie town. “Is there any place that I might rent a room?” I asked in a desperate voice. “I'm tired and my stomach is getting mighty hungry.”

  “Sorry,” the man said, “hotel has been closed for over a year now.”

  I shook my head and dared to look up into the man's shadowy face. Who was I talking to, anyway? Who was this stranger that seemed to come out of nowhere and what was his business in town? “Who are you?” I demanded.

  “My name is Joel.”

  “Well, Joel,” I said staring up into a face with a thin black beard and shadowy eyes, “where in the world am I supposed to stay?”

  Joel glanced around the town and then focused on the falling snow and howling winds. “You're a good ways from Brown Mills,” he finally told me. “At least, by foot. If you had a horse you could reach Brown Mills in about three hours.”

  I nearly exploded. “So, get me a darn horse,” I said.

  Joel shook his head. “There isn't anyone around these parts to give you a horse, lady.”

  “My name is Nola,” I snapped. The cold winds were stirring up my temper. “My full name is Nola Elizabeth Milton. And you better remember that, too.”

  Joel simply nodded his head and then studied the town again. A heavy frown formed across his face. “I better take you to Brown Mills. The Chatsworth gang could be anywhere.”

  “I ain't afraid of no stinking Chatsworth gang,” I told Joel and snatched up my luggage. My voice may have sounded tough but my heart sure was afraid. “Well?” I asked.

  Joel let out a heavy sigh. “Yes, mam,” he said and dismounted. As he did I saw the wind snatch at his black coat and uncover a deadly gun sitting on his right hip.

  For the first time in my life, I was down-right scared. I watched Joel walk toward me and I wanted to run—but that was silly, wasn't it? How far could a woman run in a strange land from a man who was well acquainted with his surroundings? “Well, take my bags,” I fussed, hoping my voice sounded brave and steady instead of scared.

  Joel looked down at my bags. “Lady,” he said in a tired voice, “leave your luggage here. The stage will come back this way. You can pick your luggage up then.” Joel looked around and pointed at a tree. “You can put your luggage behind that tree and use some brush for cover.”

  “What?” I asked and began shaking my head. “I'm not leaving my bags. Are you crazy? Everything I own is in these bags!”

  Joel stared at me and then narrowed his eyes. “Lady, we're riding horseback. You're going to need to hold onto me because the trail is mighty rough, and if you’re holding onto me, you can’t be holding onto those bags.”

  I stared at Joel. My mind understood his concern but my heart refused to give in and leave my bags. “I'll leave one bag here, just one,” I fussed. “Now give me a minute. I need to go through my belongings and see what I need to take and move some things around.”

  Joel sighed and folded his arms. “Hurry,” he told me in a stern tone. “It's getting dark and I don't like to travel when I can't see.”

  “Oh, hold your horses,” I griped, “I have to move some stuff from one bag to another and take what I think I need. Stubborn mule, in a rush to get nothing done,” I muttered.

  Joel watched me go through my bags as the last of the day vanished into the icy night. After a good bit of time passed, I told Joel I was ready. “Here, take this bag and hide it behind that tree and cover it good for me.”

  Joel narrowed his eyes at me again but did as I ordered him. My fear of this stranger was slowly slipping away. As I watched him hide my bag behind a tree and stuff dry brush over it I realized that, deep down, there was really nothing to fear about Joel. In fact, I thought, shielding my face against a hard wind, the man appeared to be a protector.

  At least I hoped.

  Chapter 2

  Twist in the Trail

  Holding onto my bag with my left hand while holding onto Joel with my right hand proved to be a real battle. He surely wasn't kidding when he said the trail was going to be rough. The fierce winds weren't being kind, either. “I'm colder than I’ve ever been in my life,” I told Joel through chattering teeth.

  “It's a cold night,” Joel agreed steering his horse under a low tree limb. Part of the limb scraped the top of my bonnet, nearly taking it off my head. I grabbed it quickly and secured it to my hair. I had to tough out the ride and hope that somehow, someway, a warm room and soft bed was waiting for me.

  “I own a bakery back home. What is it that you do?” I asked Joel.

  “I hunt.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said and rolled my eyes at his simple answer. How Joel could see the trail we were riding was beyond me. All I could see was darkness and all I could feel was the snow hitting my face.

  Though the silence stretched between us, the winds howled and screamed through the dark trees. Joel seemed to become lost in his thoughts, and I became bored. “So, what do you hunt?” I asked hoping that conversation would take my mind off of how cold I was.

  “People,” Joel answered me in a voice that was colder than the icy winds.

  “People?” I asked nearly slipping off the horse. Joel threw his left hand around his back and grabbed me before I could fall. “Thanks.”

  “I'm a bounty hunter,” he explained.

  “A bounty hunter,” I repeated. “So you're kinda like a lawman,” I asked.

  Joel didn't answer me. He focused on the dark trail and grew silent.

  “You don't talk much, do you?” I asked him in a grumpy voice. “You know, talking makes the time pass pretty quickly. Which reminds of the time my Pa and me took a trip to Savannah in his buggy. My, was the trip ever long. But Pa and me, we just talked the whole time and even sung some songs. Pa and I love to sing about Jesus. Do you like to sing about Jesus?”

  “There was a time,” Joel answered me in a strange voice.

  I sighed. So much for making conversation. “How much longer until we reach Brown Mills?”

  “We've only been on the trail no more than twenty minutes,” Joel explained.

  I sighed again. “Only twenty minutes,” I whispered, “and it feels like a lifetime.”

  About a half hour passed when suddenly Joel brought his horse to an abrupt stop.

  “What?” I asked nearly tumbling off the back end.

  Without saying a word Joel slid off the beast with impressive skill. “Here,” he said reaching his hands up to me, “get down.”

  “What for?” I asked and looked around. My eyes had become adjusted to the dark and I could make out trees, a few boulders, and trail brush, but nothing more.

  Joel grabbed me and pulled me down off the horse. “Do as I say,” he snapped at me in a low whisper.

  As soon as my feet hit the ground I dropped my bag, balled my right hand into a little fist, and swung at Joel's head. Joel moved out of the way of my fist with ease and shook his head at me. “Knock it off and come on.”

  “Why you,” I said in a furious voice and swung my fist at Joel again. This time Joel moved out of the way and then pushed me down onto my backside with a firm but gentle hand. “Why your brute!” I yelled.

  Joel snatched my bag off the ground and walked off toward a grouping of thick trees. To my shock, his horse followed. “Where are you going?” I asked, scrambling to my cold feet and chasing after him.

  “Get down and hush your mouth,” Jo
el told me in a stern voice and tossed my bag down onto the ground. “Riders are coming. Could be the Chatsworth gang.”

  “What do you mean riders are coming? I don't--”

  Joel reached out and put his hand over my stubborn mouth. “Lady, hush,” he snapped, “and get down behind that tree and stay there until I say otherwise.”

  I stared into Joel's shadowy face. Something in his voice told me to mind him. “Okay,” I mumbled, a little thrown off by the jolt his touch had given me.

  Joel removed his hand from my mouth and pointed to a tree. “There,” Joel said.

  I quickly gathered my bag up off the ground and hurried over to the tree while Joel crouched behind a large boulder and focused on the trial. For the life of me, I could not understand how he could know riders were approaching. I couldn’t see or hear anything that would indicate another living soul was out tonight but it didn't take long before the sound of voices reached my cold ears. The voices were faint and weak but I heard them. I slowly got down on my belly and strained my ear toward the trail. “Brown Mills is deader than anything I've ever seen,” I heard a disappointed voice say.

  “Yeah, even the whiskey tasted sour tonight,” a second voice said.

  “Aw, shut up, the both of you!” a third voice hollered. “We didn't go into Brown Mills to get hankered up at the saloon, did we? No. We went looking for Joel Middlebrooke.”

  I let my eyes wander over to Joel, only, he wasn't behind the boulder anymore. “Joel?” I called out in a whisper. “Joel? Oh, where did he get off to?” I asked worriedly.

  I wasn't sure what to do. There I was, behind a tree, in the dark, in the snow, freezing my backside off, miles from home, listening to three men fuss at each other while Joel was nowhere in sight. On top of that, I sighed miserably, the man I had traveled to Nevada to marry had been nothing more than a low-down, good-for-nothing, and criminal. What a mess I was in. “Well, I ain't standing here helpless,” I told myself and quickly opened my bag and pulled out a gun my Pa had forced me to pack. I took the gun in my hand and closed my bag. Now, I wasn't the world's greatest shot, but I could make a rattlesnake dance its way into a hole when I set my mind to it.