by Natalie Dean
His hands were callused and rough. Rougher than any of the men she’d met in Philadelphia high society. Even so, there was a warmth to them. Something she hadn’t felt in many other men. Even Frank’s hands, when they first touched at a dinner in Philadelphia had a certain coolness to them.
Mattathias Jacobs’ hands felt unpretentious, if one could feel such things through touch. When she looked up at the man to whom the hand belonged, he certainly looked unpretentious and simple enough. However, the warmth that his hands hinted at could not be seen at all in his eyes or facial expression.
Their hands dropped as soon as she was seated.
Without so much as another glance toward her, he threw the horses reins, and they started out down yet another rocky dirt path.
As they tilted and bumped along the terrain, Bernadette’s initial fears seemed confirmed.
She closed her eyes and silently prayed to God that she had not just made the worst mistake of her life.
Chapter 3
“So, this is the lucky bride!”
A man with slick dark hair and a mustache who appeared to be in his mid-thirties met them as they pulled up to the large ranch home.
With a bright smile, which would have put her mother’s fake charm to shame, he moved towards the wagon as Mr. Jacobs pulled the horses to a stop.
“Evenin’ Mr. Miles,” Mr. Jacobs said. “This is Mrs. Bernadette Dixon.”
Bernadette saw Mr. Jacobs climb down from the wagon and begin to make his way towards the other side, presumably to see her down safely. Before he could, however, the slick haired Mr. Miles appeared at her side, gallantly offering his hand to bring her down.
“Mrs. Dixon,” he said. “What a pleasure to meet you at last. Matt has told us so much about you.”
Mr. Miles lifted her hand to his lips and placed a gallant kiss upon them, just as her smarmy young suitors had done at balls before she’d met and married Frank Dixon. And, the expression that she saw in Mr. Miles’ face made her like him about as much as she’d liked those suitors.
His dark, beady eyes looked up at her as though she were a prize to be won rather than a human being and the ostentatious greeting which he gave was certainly less genuine than Mr. Jacob’s own awkward ‘hello.'
“It is good that one of us knows something of the other,” Bernadette replied. “Mr. Jacobs failed to mention you entirely in his letters.”
Bernadette had hoped to wipe at least a bit of the smug smile off Mr. Miles face with that statement. Mr. Miles, however, did not look at all perturbed. Indeed, he laughed at this.
“Ah, yes,” he said. “Well, we had both hoped that Matt would have his own homestead by now. We may have been a little more optimistic than the bank. I am sure you are aware how slowly these things can go.”
“I hope they do not go too slowly,” Bernadette said. “After living off the kindness of relatives for the past three years, I am eager to have my own home.”
“Of course,” Mr. Miles said. “And I am sure you must be exhausted from your journey. Matt, why don’t you take Mrs. Dixon’s trunk to her room in the back of the house. I’ll have Billy get the supper ready.”
Bernadette could not help but be surprised at this order. From the way Mr. Miles was speaking, it was as though he, and not Mr. Jacobs, was her host. As if Mr. Jacobs was nothing more than a hired hand, a servant meant to see to the guest's needs.
She turned to Mattathias to see how he might take this. To her surprise, the much taller and clearly stronger Mattathias nodded to Mr. Miles subserviently and grabbed her trunk from the back of the wagon.
“If you’ll follow me, Mrs. Dixon,” he said awkwardly.
With a curious glance at Mr. Miles, she turned and began to follow her fiancé. Before she got too far, Mr. Miles voice stopped her.
“We’ll give you about an hour until dinner,” he called to them. “Clean up and be back here by then.”
Bernadette, who had never been ordered to appear by a man who was neither her husband nor her father, could not help but feel more than a bit affronted by this order. She opened her mouth to give him a sharp rebuke. Before she could, however, she felt Mr. Jacob’s warm hand land lightly on her arm, stopping her from speaking.
“We’ll be there, Mr. Miles,” he said. Quickly, hand still placed lightly on her arm, he turned her away from the ranch owner and, taking up her trunk again, began to march towards the back of the ranch house.
“I know he seems uppity,” Mr. Jacobs said as soon as Mr. Miles and the wagon had faded from view. “But, he’s a decent man. He gave me a job when I first arrived. He found a small abandoned farm for sale. He’s even helping me secure a loan from the bank. Once you get to know him, you’ll like him better.”
Bernadette wanted to say that she had no intention of getting to know Mr. Miles more than was necessary. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if it was wise to remain here at all. The more she discovered about the situation to which she had promised herself, the more she began to think that returning to Philadelphia penniless and homeless was not such an unthinkable option.
A slight lurch from the child in her stomach, once again, made her reconsider this.
So, instead of saying anything against his employer, Bernadette asked a question that had been plaguing her since Mr. Jacobs told her of his plans to purchase a farm.
“I was not aware that it was so difficult to acquire land out West,” she said. “I believed most of the land to be in public domain.”
“In a lot of places, it is,” he said. “But, when the owners of the farm I’ve had my eye on left, they sold to the bank in town. Now the bank won’t sell it without a written application and some kind of collateral.”
“And is that so difficult to acquire?”
She knew from discussions about purchasing their own farm with her husband that collateral could really be anything of value. A porcelain dish or an antique portrait frame. Anything that would ensure payment.
“I came out West with nothing,” Mr. Jacobs admitted. “I don’t have anything to put up for the loan. And, Mr. Miles says that to move the application up the line, you must know someone at the bank. And, he has contacts.”
“It seems as though his contacts move just as slowly as a normal banker might,” she said. She could not help the sarcastic tone which entered her voice. She was sure it was this tone that caused Mr. Jacobs to heave yet another frustrated sigh.
“It may be difficult to understand, Mrs. Dixon,” he said. “But, I trust Mr. Miles. In time, I think you’ll come to trust him too.”
They stopped at a white front door belonging to a small, wooden structure just behind the large ranch house.
“This’ll be your room for the time being,” Mr. Jacobs said opening the door. Bernadette looked inside to find a small, sparse room with a bed and one brown dresser.
“It’s a little removed from the rest of us in the house. That way you’ll get some privacy.”
“Thank you for that,” Bernadette said. Though the room was bare, she knew better than to turn her nose up at it. It was larger, after all than any of the rooms she’d slept in on the way to her new home. And, at least here, she would not be forced to room with an elderly snoring couple.
She turned back to Mr. Jacobs and gave him the most genuine smile she could under the circumstances. His eyes softened as she smiled at him, though he did not return it. Instead, he looked at her wistfully, as though he wanted to say something profound or sentimental to her but could not find the words.
Bernadette felt another leap in her chest that, she knew, had nothing to do with her condition.
A moment later, Mr. Jacobs moved his eyes back to the ground. When he looked up at her again, the softness was gone, and the closed expression he usually wore was back.
“I’ll come and fetch you in an hour for dinner,” he said. And with a slight, awkward bow, he turned on his heel and left Bernadette staring after him.
Bernadette made her way into the room and sank
down onto the small bed provided. Slowly, she opened the Bible still carried on her person.
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid.
Closing her eyes once more, she prayed again that God might give her the strength to heed those words.
Chapter 4
At dinner, she learned that Mr. Jacobs had been right, at least in part. Her first impression of Mr. Miles had not been entirely accurate.
When he’d greeted her, she thought him to be like the arrogant suitors she’d met in Philadelphia. At dinner, however, he proved himself to be worse than that.
He had proved himself to be the most conniving, slippery, self-centered man she had ever encountered.
Three other men, Jimmy, Sam, and Billy (who had made dinner), joined them for the evening meal. Despite this, it was Mr. Miles who did most of the talking.
Most of the discussion consisted of anecdotes Mr. Miles told about his various business dealings. Most of which were disreputable at best and downright criminal at worst.
Currently, he and most of the boys were laughing uproariously as Mr. Miles told a story about how he had stolen cattle from a rival.
“…And then, of course, Branson looks at the herd of cattle I’ve got and asks me where I got them. ‘I’m in the market for a new herd,’ he says. ‘Some slippery bastard has gone and taken all of mine,’ pardon my language, mam,” Miles said still laughing as he turned and nodded at Bernadette. “But Herman Branson’s a very foul-mouthed man. I wouldn’t do the story justice if I didn’t add his color.”
“Mr. Miles, I am certain you could not add any more color to this particular story if you tried,” she said. Once again, she found that she could not help the dry, sarcastic tone that colored her words. None of the other men seemed to notice her tone.
None that is…except for Mattathias. To Bernadette’s surprise, he did not appear to take exception to her silent criticism of his boss. Indeed, when he caught her eye, he seemed to understand the humor infused in her words and gave her a small, understanding smile.
This, Bernadette reflected, was the first time she had ever seen Mattathias smile. It wasn’t a full grin, more of a humor filled smirk. Still, it felt more than nice to be able to share at least one thing with her soon to be fiancé.
“Anyway,” Mr. Miles said, continuing his story. “I told Branson that the cattle were for sale if he was willing to buy them. Then, if you can believe it, he bought his own herd off me for twice what he would have otherwise paid.”
Billy, Jimmy, and Sam joined in with Mr. Miles uproarious laughter. Mr. Jacobs, however, did not.
“Mr. Miles,” he said quietly when the laughter at the table had died down. “I’m not sure Bernadette is entirely comfortable with this kind of talk.”
“Ah, you sound like that Pastor Rhodes,” Mr. Miles said with a sneer. “To hear him talk, no Christian man should curse, spit or do shady business deals.”
Bernadette, who remembered the kind man who had introduced himself as the pastor that afternoon, felt more than a bit affronted on the man’s behalf.
“It sounds as though Pastor Rhodes is adhering to Christian doctrine as a man in his station should,” Bernadette said as evenly as she could. “After all, doesn’t the Lord Jesus himself instruct us not to lie or cheat.”
Mr. Miles smile faded, and he looked hard at her for a moment before a tense smile returned.
“The Lord Jesus never ran a cattle ranch in the western territories,” Miles said. “Cheating and lying are par for the course out here. A man is obligated to cheat or risk getting cheated himself. You’ll soon get used to that.”
“Well, she’ll have to, won’t she?” Jimmy, a young boy, no more than seventeen asked with a long sallow face. “She’s going to be living here after all.”
“We’ve been needing a woman around for a while,” Sam cut in. He was older than Jimmy and a good deal bulkier with blonde, straight hair, and a square jaw. “To improve on Billy’s cooking if nothing else.”
“My cooking’s fine,” Billy said defensively. He was the oldest of the boys, but still in his late twenties. He was as slender as Mattathias though not as tall. “You’re just too stupid to appreciate it.”
But amid the jabs at Billy’s cooking, Bernadette held on to one aspect of the conversation that filled her with dread.
“I will not be in your company too long,” she said. “After all, once Mr. Jacobs secures his loan, we will be moving to the farm.”
Sam cocked his head confused.
“But…Mr. Miles said…”
“I said it’s taking longer than expected,” Mr. Miles put in with a stern look at Sam. “But, I’m sure the bank will not be able to stall much longer. Matt, you’ll have your farm soon enough.”
He raised his glass to Mattathias. Bernadette turned to her fiancé who did his best to smile at his employer, but, for the first time, she saw a hint of doubt as to the other man’s intentions in Mattathias’ face. It was the same doubt that had plagued her ever since she met the man.
Through the rest of dinner, Bernadette watched Mr. Miles laugh gleefully with more stories of his business acumen. She heard him put down his competitors in the area and speak to the boys as though they were little more than servants or, perhaps, audience members for a one man show he was constantly performing.
While the other young men seemed to lap up this performance, like children who idolized their father, at certain moments, her fiancé looked more than a bit uncomfortable. Even glancing apologetically at her as though trying to make silent amends for his boss’ behavior.
If she had known Mr. Jacobs slightly better, she might have told him exactly what she thought of his employer. She might have even confided in him what she believed Mr. Miles was doing.
Dinner had made her even more suspicious of Mr. Miles motives in helping Mattathias secure his farm. In fact, she had a distinct feeling that he was stalling deliberately.
But, she did not know Mr. Jacobs well. And, she would have to know him a good deal better before she brought these accusations to bear.
So, when dinner was finished and, lantern in hand, Mr. Jacobs escorted her back to her room, she brought up his relationship with Mr. Miles in a more roundabout way.
“How did you come to be in Mr. Miles employment?” she asked. “I know very few young men who choose to settle so far north. Most make their way to California in search of gold.”
“That is what we planned at first,” Mr. Jacobs admitted with a sad sigh. “When we left Massachusetts, we meant to travel all the way to the Pacific.”
“We?” Bernadette asked curiously.
She glanced over to Mattathias whose face clouded over, his lips pursed. He looked down at his feet as though steeling himself to talk about something he would rather not.
“My brother,” he said finally. “Will. He and I set out together.”
“But, he’s not here with you,” Bernadette said gently. She believed she knew the story behind his sad expression. Still, if she was to marry this man, she wanted to hear him tell it.
“He died,” Mattathias said. “Caught a case of Malaria on the trail near here. We brought him into town, but there was nothing they could do. They buried him here. Didn’t seem right for me to carry on without him.”
“I’m sorry,” Bernadette said softly. She glanced over to see Mattathias still looking down to the ground, lips pursed. In the dim light of the lantern, he nodded in acknowledgment.
They walked along in silence for several more minutes. Their pace nearly as slow as a funeral march. And, in a way, Bernadette supposed that it was.
“I’m sorry about your husband too,” Mr. Jacobs said finally.
At the mention of Frank, even in such a roundabout manner, Bernadette felt her eyes fill with tears. She looked at Mattathias, trying to give him a smile, trying to shrug it off. Even so, she felt two tears fall onto her cheeks.
“A lot of young husbands were lost in the war,” she said. “My case is hardly unique.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier,” Mr. Jacobs said. “My brother was hardly the first to die on the journey west. Doesn’t make me miss him any less. He was the one who wanted to start a farm, you know? He had this idyllic picture in his head. The two of us running a nice little farm together with our families. Something to pass on to our kids when we had them.”
“My husband and I had made plans for a farm as well,” Bernadette confided. “Somewhere out of the city. A place with fresh air and room to grow. Some place our children could grow up.”
At the mention of children, she looked down realizing that she had absently put a hand on her stomach still hidden beneath her skirts. Taking it away hastily and looking to Mr. Jacobs, she prayed he hadn’t seen the gesture.
Luckily, he was still looking down at the ground, his pale face half illuminated by the lantern’s light.
“Well,” he said a hint of amusement in his voice. “If it’s room and fresh air you’re after, there’s plenty of that out here.”
Bernadette gave him a small smile when he looked up from the ground. When he returned it, she felt that familiar flip in her chest.
Of course, that was followed by more than a small sense of guilt.
She knew she should tell him about the baby. It was unlikely that he would send her away now. And, besides, he had not been exactly truthful with her about his farm. Shouldn’t she admit that she had not told him the whole truth about her circumstances either?
As she was contemplating this, they arrived at the door to her room. As soon as they did, she realized just how exhausted she was. She looked up at Mattathias and he at her. Those blue eyes met hers, and all thoughts of saying anything to him about children or secrets flew from her mind.
After all, she told herself, she did not have the energy for such a discussion tonight. Best to wait until morning.
“Well,” she said after a moments silence. “Thank you for the escort, Mr. Jacobs.”