Chapter 3
Two weeks later, Gwendolyn fulfilled her promise, much to Rosanna’s surprise. At the end of the day, they gathered in the parlor under the ambient glow of a cheerful fire, and the older woman shared the results of her findings. “I did what I promised I never would do. I brought one of those Philadelphia ledger papers with the ads in them, and guess what I found?”
At Rosanna’s blank but expectant look, she spread the sheet on the low-lying table and pointed to the words in bold. Then she read each word in a slow, deliberate tone.
“Cheyenne, Wyoming. A respectable gentleman, thirty-five, bachelor of fine upstanding values, is in need of a good God-fearing woman with a view to matrimony. This woman must be kind, honest, loving, and between the age of twenty and thirty. Appearance and status of wealth are not important, as the bachelor is able to amply provide for the needs of his wife. Please respond to Alexander Malone at Union Pacific Railroad Services.”
Rosanna caught her breath at the request for a God-fearing bride. She had heard of many women leaving the East to live in the West as the wife of a miner, rancher, or frontiersman, but never thought to attempt such a feat herself, much less in her state.
She also knew the sad tales of women who traveled from the East to the West in search of a better future, only to find disreputable suitors and a harsh and bitter life.
Her wide eyes questioned the logic of such a decision. “You think this is the answer? To become a mail-order bride?”
The very idea filled Rosanna with anxious concern, and she didn’t hesitate to share her deepest fears. “He will hate the sight of me.”
Gwendolyn straightened up with a resolute look. She pointed to the newspaper again and repeated, “It says ‘appearance and status of wealth are not important.’ This means he will not care what you look like or what you have. Oh, Rosanna, this is what I have wanted for you: to have a chance at a new life, both for you and for your brother.”
At the mention of David, her eyes darted around with a worried look. She noted the unusual silence of the house. “Where is he?”
Rosanna swallowed, a stab of pain in the nether regions of her heart. It seemed she was not the only one affected and plagued by bitter thoughts. “He cried himself to sleep just before you came,” she lamented. “He’s hurting terribly and I don’t know how to heal him.”
Gwendolyn’s frown faded and she reached over to grasp Rosanna’s hands in her own. She looked directly into her eyes and said with determination, “God will heal him, but you must answer his call. Respond to the ad and choose a new life and a new hope.”
The words swam before Rosanna’s eyes, dancing like horses to a merry tune. Her thoughts clung to all the reasons it would not work, but her heart beat to a strange rhythm. Maybe, just maybe, it might be the life she sought for herself and her brother. Did she dare take the chance and throw her fears to the wind?
The offer seemed genuine enough, but what if Alexander Malone regretted his ad after meeting her? And when he saw her face—what then?
Gwendolyn helped Rosanna make the choice with her next words. “I don’t have much in the way of savings, Rosanna, but I will ask my friends to help you with some clothing and a travel bag. On my part, I will give you my savings for one purpose: you will use it to buy two return tickets if anything goes wrong. Remember, my door will always be open to you and David. All you have to do is come home.”
Rosanna expelled a deep sigh, her heart settling to its familiar beat at Gwendolyn’s generous offer. All you have to do is come home. Knowing she could return if something went wrong eased her mind to a great degree and calmed some of her fears. “All right, I will try and see how it goes. Can you help me respond to the ad, please?”
Gwendolyn clapped her hands in complacent delight and rushed to her feet with a cheerful cry. “This calls for a celebration. Stay there while I fetch some sweet honey cakes and hot chocolate milk.”
At Gwendolyn’s hasty departure, Rosanna strolled over to the square glass window with the edges covered in dirt and grime. Beyond the dust-filled shutters, soft alabaster clouds swept across the darkening cerulean expanse.
Above the slopes and peaks of the row-house rooftops, the world looked neat and clean. A flock of birds dotted the sky, rising on the warm currents of air with soaring wings. She envied the flock to some extent; the feeling of flying with nothing but the wind under your wings must be quite exhilarating.
She turned to the fading sun as it dipped its final farewell, painting broad, colorful strokes of fiery red, radiant salmon, bittersweet apricot, and dandelion swirls. Her gaze clung to the rays melting into the shadows, thoughts brimming with hopes of the future.
Dear God, please hear my prayers and make my dreams come true.
Chapter 4
Cheyenne, Wyoming
It took two months of preparation and letter exchanges to get to Cheyenne, a land of sprawling mountain ranges, vast plains, and infinite grasslands.
Rosanna heaved a soft sigh when the Union Pacific train halted to a stop under mostly clear skies and darkening clouds on the horizon. In a rush to see her new home, she scrambled to escape the belching metal box with a wide-eyed David dressed in his Sunday finest.
When she alighted in a yellow linen trimmed dress, decorated with ivory lace and blue bows, a sudden rush of frigid air tore the breath from her body and she staggered backward in surprise.
The temperature plummeted around her and she shivered despite the warm cloak enveloping her body and the mittens covering her frail hands. Grateful for the sky-blue bonnet with bright yellow ribbons and a secure veil around her face like shimmering gauze, she followed the dashing crowds.
The wave of bodies led her across uneven tracks set in neat rows. Jagged rocks encrusted with soft mud crunched under her feet in a dash to escape the wintry wind. Inside the Union Pacific depot, amidst the throngs of passengers, Rosanna embraced the warm air roaring from the giant fireplace.
She admired the massive structure built of quarried sandstone with its curved arches and broad stone columns. In her mind, it stood like a mighty sentry guarding the vast plains and keeping troublemakers at bay. She wondered how they got the barrel towers to reach toward the sky like the tops of the mighty mountains.
“Rosie, are we going to live in a nice home?”
David’s pet name for her and his cautious entreaty filled Rosanna’s mind with relief. He had been so quiet during the journey she had been worried sick, but now she saw his pale face, under a mop of chocolate tousled hair, gleamed in the ambient light. “I hope so, darling, but I don’t really know. Mr. Malone wrote back saying we were to come and he would take care of everything, so I wish for the best.”
He accepted her explanation and gaped at the surroundings with bright summer-blue eyes. Then he rubbed his tummy with an expectant look. “I’m hungry, Rosie. Can I eat now?”
Rosanna’s stomach growled in response, much to her chagrin, and she thought of the few coins in her purse. They had used most of her money on the weeks-long journey, and she didn’t have much more to spare, but maybe a small pastry and something warm to drink would do. “I will see if we can have something before we get to Mr. Malone’s house. Let’s get some help.”
Rosanna’s confidence faltered when David looked away, his attention caught by a family with a child near his age. They seemed so happy, with wide smiles and bright faces, as they rushed to gather their belongings. Rosanna hoped everything would turn out just as fine for her and David.
“Come, David. I see a window with a sign that says ‘information.’ Maybe they can help.”
When they got to the window, the clerk looked up with a bright smile on his face. His eyes tried to penetrate the barrier of her veil, but it cloaked the appearance of her face well enough to keep her secret intact. “Sir, I am here to meet Mr. Alexander Malone. Do you know where I can find him?”
The clerk’s eyes widened at her request, and he peered over his steel-rimmed spectacles at both
her and David. Then he squared his shoulders and adjusted his bow tie with diffidence, much to Rosanna’s surprise. “Are you sure about his name, young lady?”
Rosanna’s gaze faltered and she glanced at David. She wondered if he could see the scars through the gauze that covered her face from the world. When the clerk leaned closer, she stepped back and caught her breath. Why was he looking at her like that? Could he really see the hideous scars marking her face?
“Rosanna, is that you?”
The sweet, cultured voice rang out with a cheerful call, and the clerk followed the sound to a vision in layers of silk and satin. When he saw who it was, a crimson trail burned across his upper cheeks and he made himself scarce. “Best wishes, miss.”
Rosanna gaped at the apparition before her and wondered what she had been thinking of when she answered the ad. The lady swept forward in royal-blue satin gown trimmed in cream lace. Her underskirt boasted layers of lace flounces trimmed in roses, and the artful upsweep of her sun-kissed hair complemented high cheeks and slanted hazel eyes.
When she embraced Rosanna, the delicate scent of lavender and a sweet hint of orange clung to her skin. She had never smelled anything quite like it.
“I am so happy to see you! I recognized David right away. You described him quite well in your letter, but you did not describe yourself. Why is your face covered? Does the cold weather affect you that much?”
Rosanna held her breath. She did not want to reveal her secret to anyone but Alexander, and maybe this woman knew him well. “I will remove it when I meet my future husband. Are you his friend?”
The woman’s tinkling laughter caused others around them to smile. The sound filled Rosanna with a bout of joy, and her lips tilted in response. It seemed like the laughter of someone without a care or concern in the world. It was a heady feeling.
“Goodness, no. I am his sister, Agatha Malone. We live with our mother, but you will meet them both in just a moment. Wait until you get to the house; I have a nice, intimate dinner prepared for us all. I know they will be overjoyed to meet you.”
David, who had been largely silent, walked over to Agatha and raised his arms with his head tilted to one side. When she looked at him in confusion, Rosanna whispered, for her ears alone, “He wants you to hold him. I think he believes you might be a princess from one of his storybooks.”
Agatha rose to the occasion, much to Rosanna’s eternal gratitude. She swung David’s gaunt frame into her arms with strength belying her delicate appearance, and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. “Oh, precious one. You are both going to have a wonderful time here.”
Rosanna held her breath. Dear God, I hope it will be so.
Chapter 5
The covered drive on the broad street, flanked by countless square buildings with high roof peaks and large windows, passed by in a blur, courtesy of Rosanna’s tormented thoughts.
She barely saw the Capital Avenue Theater or the majestic opera house with its elegant stained glass windows and solid brick walls. Instead her mind wavered over the truth of her condition and how she would explain her lack of trust to her future husband.
All too soon the drive was over, and they pulled up to a two-floor building on East Seventeenth Street.
Rosanna caught her breath and tried to keep her jaw from falling to the floor. The sprawling Victorian home stood amidst a spacious lawn with meandering paths. Elegant bay windows and a stately front porch held ornamental floral designs in an artful display.
Carriage houses stood off to one side and straggled hedges adorned the walkway, which would bloom in the spring under large branches of mostly leafless trees. Rosanna could just imagine their verdant beauty when summer came around again.
The walkway led to a few steps and a door made of wood and stained glass in radiant hues. When it opened and a male servant dressed in finery let them in, Rosanna struggled to hold on to a sense of reality. The opulence of the surroundings hit her like a blizzard wind, and she almost ran for dear life.
The servant did not appear to notice her distress or the way her eyes darted back and forth. He removed her jacket and took the travel bag from her numb fingers with efficient finesse. When he raised his hands for her hat and veil, she stepped back with a gasp; he hesitated with a frown, and then bowed slightly from the waist.
Before she could explain, Agatha’s cheerful request beckoned her forward. “Rosanna, stop dawdling. Come to the living room; my brother and mother are waiting to meet you.”
In a daze, Rosanna entered the high-ceilinged room with its graceful fixtures, elegant furniture, and electric lights. She barely noticed the lush ferns in wide ceramic pots nestled in the corners or the lavender-papered walls. Instead, her wide eyes clung to the man and woman who rose to meet her.
The woman came forward first with deep-set hazel eyes and a firm mouth with hard lines. Her hair, a mixture of blonde and silver highlights, curved away from her face in a stylish bun. The silk and satin attire, much like Agatha’s, enhanced her statuesque frame, and her voice held a husky lilt.
“My name is Mary Malone. I am the mother of Alexander and you have already met my daughter.”
After her dry greeting, she turned to Agatha with a glare. “I must say, Agatha, you have outdone yourself with your boldness. Your brother nearly had a fit when I told him what you were up to, and now a woman and a child are standing in our parlor.”
Agatha stepped forward and said with a wince, “She is standing in front of you, Mother. You might want to show a little of the kindness you speak about in church so often.”
Mrs. Malone harrumphed and eyed Rosanna with a tilted brow, her mouth turned down. “Do you have a cold? Remove your bonnet and sit, young lady. I will have Alfred bring us some refreshments.”
Rosanna started in shock, her eyes glued to the figure behind Mrs. Malone. It was only then she realized Alexander had not written the letters—Agatha did the honors for him.
David hid himself in her skirts, and she could feel his flushed body trembling, much like her own. Patting him absentmindedly on the head, she stood in a haze of indecision, wondering what to do.
When Alexander came forward, green eyes looked her over. He towered over her by at least a foot, and she balked somewhat at his height. Tall people did not run in her family line, and she herself stood slightly over five feet.
She barely registered his square jaw, broad forehead, and firm mouth, or the way success clung to him like the scent of moist woods after a rainy day. Instead she focused on the tenor of his words.
“It’s nice to meet you, Rosanna. Will you remove your bonnet please? Mother is a stickler for certain customs.”
His gentle request went a long way to ease some of her fears, and gave Rosanna a flickering of hope. It appeared he and Agatha shared a similar nature, apart from their mother.
When she untied the veil from around her neck and removed her bonnet with white knuckles, Mary gasped in horror.
“My God. She’s ill!”
The air swirled to a standstill and a lonely cricket ceased his cheerful song. An awkward silence descended, and the room filled with unspoken explanations.
Agatha broke the silence with soft hand on Rosanna’s shoulder. “So, that’s why you wore a veil. Why didn’t you explain in the letter?”
Rosanna blinked and moistened dry lips. She desperately wanted to excuse herself, but she didn’t know what to say. “Forgive me. I thought if I—”
Mary interrupted with a sneer, plummeting the warm air by frigid degrees. “You thought what? That we would keep you once you got here? Stuff and nonsense. How dare you do such a thing to this family?”
Rosanna stepped back, oblivious to David’s whimper at her side. Her throat felt like dry parchment and dark spots danced across her eyes. She could not remember when she’d last had a bite to eat, and she longed for a drink of water.
Mary gathered steam to vent her indignation. Her eyes froze into an icy stare and she snapped, “We have to send her back. Th
is will never work. Alexander, does anyone know she came here?”
Agatha attempted to appease the situation with a swift reply: “Mother, there is nothing wrong with being sick. Besides, you can see she is not sick now.”
Rosanna appreciated the sincere attempt to defend her honor, but Mary could not be appeased so easily.
“You fool! Don’t you know smallpox when you see it? Alexander, you are the oldest and should have some sense on your shoulders. What do you think it can do to this family? Wipe us out, that’s what. This is all your fault, Agatha. You never should have—”
The voice faded into dark swirls that struck Rosanna and ripped the balance from under her feet. She staggered backward struggling to inhale precious drops of air, but her shallow breaths increased.
As the argument progressed, she swooned under the onslaught of the tirade and collapsed in a helpless heap to the floor. She barely registered David’s anxious wail as her world crumbled into oblivion.
Chapter 6
“Rosanna, please open your eyes.”
The male voice spoke to her urgently, and Rosanna’s lids rose slowly in response. Every pore in her body ached and she groaned softly. Her legs felt as stiff as wooden sticks, and the streaming sunlight filtering into the window burned her eyes. She shaded them with her right hand to let them adjust more slowly, and turned to the speaker.
The figure walked over to the window and pulled the curtains together, leaving only a faint glow behind.
“Better now?”
Rosanna smiled, appreciating Alexander’s concern for her wellbeing. His dark hair gleamed over his crisp gingham shirt and dark trousers. When he strolled next to the bed, she noted his shiny boots and a large Stetson in his hand.
Brides of Grasshopper Creek Page 22