Patience: Bride of Washington (American Mail Order Bride 42)

by Caroline Clemmons

  A couple of neighbors paid her to mend clothing. Each week she saved a few cents from money Papa gave her for groceries. Over six months, she’d saved five dollars, a huge sum to her, but she realized she’d need far more to survive on her own.

  She took the hateful red dress and spread it across her father’s bed. Let Pa know she didn’t even like the dress well enough to take the thing with her. She left a note on the dress telling her father goodbye.

  Papa,

  I hope you keep your job, but I can’t do what you want. I’m leaving to find a better life. I’ve taken the things Mama gave me: her locket, her Bible, Grandmother’s ring, and the little painting Mama gave you on your wedding day. When I’m settled, I’ll let you know where I am. Take care of yourself.

  Your daughter,

  Josephine

  Picking up her valise and Ophelia’s, she gathered her courage. Somehow, this would work out. They left out the back door and hurried to the tree line.

  Keeping out of sight for the first ten minutes, they reached the train station. They hid behind a freight car parked with others on a side rail. When the Richmond train stopped, they peered about to see if anyone they recognized loitered at the station. When they heard the last call, they made a dash—or as close to one as Ophelia could manage.

  Acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary, they climbed aboard and found seats. Hopefully, neither father would realize they were gone until too late to stop them. They were underway when the conductor came to check tickets.

  Josephine forced a calm expression on her face while her insides were in such turmoil she thought she might vomit. “Can you sell us a ticket? My friend and I didn’t have time to get ours or we’d have missed the train. We have an appointment in Richmond.”

  The man gave them the fisheye, but he collected their coins and gave them each a ticket.

  Ophelia kept her shawl around her shoulders even though the car was stifling. She had to cover the blood soaking through her dress where her father’s strap had sliced her skin. She didn’t even lean back.

  Glancing frequently to check on Ophelia, Josephine watched the scenery go by. They’d gotten away. No matter whether or not Mrs. Harrison accepted them, they had escaped their fathers and, in her case, the mayor.

  In Richmond, they easily found the Grand Hotel near the station. Josephine had no idea of the time. Inside, they asked for Mrs. Harrison.

  The desk clerk looked down his nose at them. “The time is fifteen minutes past four. Mrs. Harrison was conducting interviews in room 210, but she has concluded those.”

  Tears gathered in Ophelia’s eyes. “No, we can’t be too late.”

  Josephine took her friend by the hand. “We’ll go to the room and see if she’s still there. If she is, we’ll throw ourselves on her mercy.” She practically dragged her friend up the stairs. In front of room 210, Josephine stood and fought for calm.

  She pushed her friend’s hair from her perspiring brow. “Pull yourself together, Ophelia. We have to impress Mrs. Harrison.” She knocked what she hoped was strongly.

  An attractive woman not that much older than herself opened the door. Her dark hair was expertly arranged and her dress spoke of wealth. “Oh, dear. We’ve already concluded the interviews.”

  Josephine stepped into the doorway so the woman couldn’t shut them out. “We’re in great need of your services. I’m Josephine Nailor and this is my friend Ophelia Shipp. Each of us wishes to go west to marry. There must be a way we can be included.” She noticed luggage was piled near the entry.

  “I’m Lydia Harrison. I’m sorry, but I’ve filled all the spots—”

  Ophelia fell to the floor in a dead faint.

  “Oh, my. Sophie, get my smelling salts and one of you girls bring a glass of water.” Mrs. Harrison knelt by Ophelia.

  When Ophelia had fallen, her shawl dropped away and exposed part of her dress in back. Bloody stripes were visible through the thin cloth. Josephine quickly pulled up the shawl. In doing so, her gaze locked with Mrs. Harrison’s. What she saw were lovely grey eyes filled with compassion.

  After having a vial waved under her nose, Ophelia blinked awake.

  Mrs. Harrison grabbed Ophelia under the arms without touching her back. “Let me help you sit so you can drink.”

  When Ophelia was upright, she drank half the glass of water and shuddered. “Thank you. I-I don’t know what came over me.”

  “When you’re able, dear, move to the sofa. If you feel well enough now, your friend and I will help you.”

  “I can manage with Jo’s help. This is so embarrassing.”

  Josephine helped her struggle to her feet and reach the luxurious sofa. Four girls and the woman Mrs. Harrison had called Sophie hovered around them.

  Mrs. Harrison stood and tapped a finger against her cheek. “I’ve decided we can accommodate two more girls. That will mean you’ll have to share a room at my home until you decide who you want to marry.”

  Josephine breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Ophelia.

  Mrs. Harrison turned to the two newcomers. “Girls, my friend Sophia Gaston and I are from the town of Tarnation, Texas. There are simply no young women of marriage age there and our young men are leaving home to move where they can find wives.”

  Sophia spoke, “Even my son, our town’s doctor, is threatening to move to Weatherford or Fort Worth. I prevailed on Lydia to do something.”

  Lydia smiled at her friend then turned her attention back to Josephine and Ophelia. “My late husband William left me quite well off. I have a large home in town where you can stay until you meet the man you wish to marry.”

  “What if we don’t find someone we like?” Josephine thought she might never marry. She had no reason to trust men.

  “In that case, I’ll try to help you find a way to support yourself. In the meantime, I’ll give little receptions, dinners, and a party or two so you can meet and visit with the men who want wives.”

  Ophelia widened her eyes. “Is this legitimate? I mean no offense, Mrs. Harrison, but we’re both good girls. You aren’t in the white slavery trade, are you?”

  Josephine had wondered the same thing. The situation sounded too good to be true. Although the woman called Sophie harrumphed, Lydia Harrison laughed.

  “Well you should ask, dear, and please call me Lydia. This is a hundred percent on the up and up. I’ll pay your travel expenses and you can live rent free in my home. I’m simply trying to stop our young men leaving and to acquire several young families in Tarnation.”

  Reassured, Josephine smiled. “That’s a funny name for a town.”

  “I agree. My late husband, bless him, used to say ‘tarnation’ a lot. Apparently, when he laid out his ranch and wanted to file for the land, he asked someone ‘Where in tarnation am I?’ The person answered that the settlement didn’t have a name, but that sounded like a good one.”

  They all laughed.

  “When he came back to the little town, ‘Tarnation’ was painted over the store and over the livery stable.”

  A knock interrupted her story.

  The porter was there with a cart. He loaded the luggage and added Ophelia’s and Josephine’s. They had barely connected with Lydia before she left for Texas. The fact stole Josephine’s breath. A half hour and they would have missed what sounded like a safe haven.

  Lydia took Ophelia’s hand. “Are you recovered enough to walk to the station?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She put lie to her words by wobbling as she stood.

  Josephine knew her friend was far from well and grasped her arm.

  Lydia watched Ophelia. “Hmm, I hope so. At least when we’ve boarded, you’ll have a bed and can lie down. We’ve a private car for the trip to Fort Worth. I’m afraid we have to travel by stage after that but by then you should be feeling better.”

  She gestured to gather them together. “Come, ladies, we must be on our way.”

  Josephine didn’t relax until they were safely on board. The car
was luxurious and nothing like the one they’d ridden from Possum Corner. Once the train started moving, she spotted her father running along the platform peering at the train windows. She ducked and tugged Ophelia down with her.

  “Papa’s out there,” she whispered and slipped off her ring. Aloud, she said, “I dropped my grandmother’s ring. Please help me find it.” They looked around the floor until enough time had elapsed that they were away from the station.

  “Oh, thank heavens, here it is.” She pretended to pick up something and slipped her ring back on her finger.

  She and Ophelia sat up and the other girls stopped helping with the search. Josephine hated she’d had to lie, but if Papa had seen her, he could have stopped the train or had it met at the next station by that town’s sheriff. He’d know Ophelia wasn’t supposed to be there, either.

  Ophelia had barely survived the beating for spilling a little milk. If Mr. Shipp were really angry, if he thought Ophelia had sinned by stealing money, he would beat her until she couldn’t recover. His religious zeal had nothing to do with any Bible verses Josephine had read.

  Josephine’s father had no religion and Mr. Shipp had too much. Pity they couldn’t meet in the middle. No matter, now each girl was free of her father.

  Used to keeping books, cleaning house, gardening, and cooking for her father plus the mending she did for neighbors, the train ride’s ease relaxed her. The constant rocking motion sang to her, “You’re free. You’re free. You’re free.” She wasn’t actually, but she was on her way.

  Pretending a megrim, Ophelia stayed in bed the first day of the trip. On a pretense of helping her friend’s headache, Josephine slipped her a wet cloth and bathed the oozing welts left by her father’s strap. Scars from other beatings marred her skin. As if she understood, Lydia discreetly handed Josephine a jar of unguent for Ophelia’s back.

  In St. Louis, they had a layover of several hours, so the girls were allowed to stroll around the area near the station. All the girls kept together as they walked through shops. Josephine bought a lovely brown satin blouse and darker brown skirt at a very reasonable price to replace the one the mayor had ruined. Her clothes were so worn she hated to meet a potential employer wearing what she’d brought with her.

  In the same store, Ophelia purchased a simple brown dress covered in pink, blue, and white flowers. Although it wasn’t elegant, the floral pattern was perfect for her gentle friend. Each of the girls shopped, but the other four girls made only small or no purchases.

  When they returned to the station, Lydia and Sophie waited with an elegantly dressed young woman. In spite of the fact the girl’s attire spoke of wealth, she carried two cases with no trunk visible.

  “Ladies, this is Angeline Chandler. She’ll be going to Tarnation with us. Shall we board our car?”

  There were only eight bunks, so Josephine wondered who would be out of luck. Surely the newcomer, since the others had already staked a claim for the trip. She should have known a woman with Lydia’s resources would not be thwarted by one addition. Soon the porter arranged a chair so that it folded into a bed. He provided a pillow and linens and showed them how to change the flat surface into an elevated one.

  Angeline sank onto the chair-bed. “Thank you so much, Lydia. I believe I could sleep for a week.”

  Lydia chuckled. “Not with eight other women in the car, dear. You’re most welcome to try, though.”

  The train gained speed and soon they were across the river and chugging through the countryside.

  Lydia leaned back and smiled. “Tarnation, here we come!”

  About the Author

  Caroline Clemmons is an Amazon bestselling author of historical and contemporary western romances whose books have garnered numerous awards. A frequent speaker at conferences and seminars, she has taught workshops on characterization, point of view, and layering a novel.

  Caroline and her husband live in the heart of Texas cowboy country with their menagerie of rescued pets. When she’s not indulging her passion for writing, Caroline enjoys reading, travel, antiquing, genealogy, oil painting, and getting together with friends. Find her on her blog, website, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and Pinterest.