Brides of Grasshopper Creek

by Faith-Ann Smith

  But it was Jackson King's personality that definitely intrigued her the most. He was the adventurous of the brothers, but there was every bit as much a down to earth side to him as well. He was committed to anything he set himself to, working tirelessly to see it come to fruition. The dedicated adventurer? Olivia would have thought it an impossible combination if it hadn't been a near identical rendition of her own personality.

  Jackson cleared his throat before his brother could launch further into breaking down every aspect of his character, turning to point out the carriage window at the row of houses up ahead. “You've chattered on the entire way home, William. How about a moment of peace and quiet for Miss Collins before we arrive?” he asked, though it in no way sounded like a question.

  Olivia turned to follow Jackson's gaze out the window and was surprised by what she found there. Indeed, a row of houses stood not a hundred feet away, but they were not what she had expected. She had read about the rustic cottages serving as homes to many miners out west and had anticipated adjusting to monumental changes in her accommodations. And while the houses weren't quite as magnificent as the grand estates back in the east, they were positively lovely homes. The last in the row of four was much larger than the rest, covering at least as much as two of the other houses put together. The beginnings of another house were laid out beyond the large house as if construction had just begun on this last one but it was still some way before completion. The carriage passed by the first three houses, coming to a halt in front of the larger one-on-one

  “Now, you'll be on your best behavior William. Or I'll send you to sleep in your own house tonight.” Jackson spoke sternly to his brother, but the light dancing in his eyes told her he was teasing. “So, he does have a sense of humor after all,” Olivia thought to herself, pleased by the small revelation.

  The two brothers descended the steps from the carriage and Jackson offered his hand to Olivia in assistance. Once firmly on the ground, she let her gaze roam across the houses in front of her. In the large house, there were a multitude of windows that let light in from every side and a veranda that wrapped around three sides of the house.

  “I suppose if I was going to live beneath the California sun, I was going to make the most of it,” Jackson offered in explanation.

  “It's beautiful, Mr. King. I hadn't expected...” she let the thought trail off, figuring there was no kind way of finishing it. Jackson nodded, but she could tell the unperturbed visage he wore was fake, and she worried that she had offended him. Before she could attempt to correct the situation, her eyes were drawn elsewhere, noticing that the porches on the other houses were no longer empty. A man and a woman stood on the porch of each house, each peering in her direction.

  “My brothers and their wives,” Jackson explained before Olivia could pose the question. She was quiet then, but her face was suddenly alight, watching as a handful of children filed out of the houses and onto the porches. Most of them barely tall enough to see over the railings, the eldest of them could not have been more than four years old. Apparently at that age, curiosity won out it seemed over the need for decorum or the possibility of reprimand, as the youngster came racing toward the carriage at a pace Olivia was quite certain no adult could match. The child managed to bring herself to a halt just steps away from barreling head first into the group.

  “Is this her, uncle Jackson?” the young girl asked excitedly. “It is, isn't it,” she continued without a pause.

  “This is Miss Collins,” Jackson affirmed, picking up the child like she weighed no more than a feather. “May I introduce you to the young Miss Caroline King,” he continued, addressing Olivia.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss King,” Olivia greeted happily.

  “Are you going to stop Uncle Jackson from sowing wild oats?” Caroline asked innocently. “I don't know why mother dislikes oats so much,” the child thought aloud, forcing William to smother a chuckle.

  “Perhaps your mother speaks too much of oats,” Jackson admonished lightly, and then turned his attention to the oncoming crowd of men, women and children.

  Olivia didn't have long to contemplate Mr. King's wild oats before her attention was directed toward the myriad of introductions that began. All of Jackson King's brothers and their wives seemed perfectly cordial, and the children were delightful. The two women married to the older King Brothers, Clara and Annie, were both daughters of miners in the area. Each of them at least seven or eight years older than Olivia. The woman, Elizabeth, married to the second youngest brother was also from Boston and not more than three or four years older. She was prettier than the other two, but still of a rather sturdy frame. Olivia felt an immediate fondness for Elizabeth who chose to venture out west with her family several years ago, rather than settling for a loveless marriage proposal back home.

  “Jackson, I'm going to take Miss Collins to her room so she can get settled in. You feel free to send this horde back to work,” Elizabeth smiled, grabbing hold of Olivia's hand and tugging her through the crowd and up the steps of the large house.

  “Should I be staying here?” Olivia asked in a slight panic once out of earshot. “I mean, if this is Mr. King's house, then wouldn't it be somewhat improper for me to reside here?”

  “Oh, don't worry about propriety here. We certainly aren't wondering about Jackson's virtue, and between William and the rest of us, we'll be around to ensure yours stays intact,” Elizabeth assured her.

  Olivia's curiosity would have compelled her to inquire further about Mr. King, but her attention was drawn elsewhere once again as Elizabeth opened the front door, revealing the simple yet elegant décor within. The home wasn't cluttered with elaborate tapestries and trinkets, but the clean lines throughout made the home appear even larger inside. Elizabeth ascended the tall staircase and Olivia followed behind, leading her to the left once they reached the top to a room two doors from the stairs. There were two more doors on the opposite side of the staircase, Jackson's and William's she presumed. Elizabeth stood back, motioning for Olivia to enter her new room and she was immediately amazed by the difference she found within.

  “I took the liberty of dressing up your room a little. Jackson's decorating style leans toward the simplistic, as I'm sure you've noticed,” Elizabeth explained. The room was beautiful, with an ornate tapestry adorning the wall, a cozy rug at the foot of the bed, a pile of books stacked on the table next to the bed and candlesticks and trinkets adorning the tabletops and window sills.

  “Do you like it here?” Olivia piped up before Elizabeth could leave the room.

  “At first it was an adjustment, I must admit. Clara and Annie weren't sure what to think of me early on, and I felt the need to work to fit in. But I've grown very fond of San Francisco, and they really are fine women and besides, it is different for you. You've come here to marry Jackson, the leader of the pact, so to speak. No one would dare give you a hard time. Now that you are here, I am quite certain we will be great friends. You’ll have an ally right from the start,” she smiled conspiratorially.

  “I believe you are right, but I am not so certain that Mr. King feels the same way. He seems rather cold...not rude, I assure you, but distant and uninterested. I don't see how I could have offended him,” Olivia expressed her confusion.

  “Oh, never mind him. I do believe he was expecting someone a little...different, but he will come around. Just look at you; how could he not?” Elizabeth tried to reassure her.

  “Different? I don't understand.”

  “I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sure it will all work out just fine. He is a good man, Olivia. Almost as good as he is handsome,” Elizabeth smiled devilishly.

  Olivia couldn't help but smile, too, remembering her response to him not long ago on the docks.

  “Alright then. One of the men will bring up your luggage shortly. You go ahead and get freshened up. Dinner will be ready shortly, so please join us downstairs when you're ready,” Elizabeth explained, smiling kindly once mor
e before leaving.

  Olivia listened to her footsteps as she descended the staircase, but before she had a full moment to herself, footsteps sounded on the stairs once again. The heavier steps told her it was likely one of the men bringing her luggage so she moved to meet them at the door, but quickly found herself tongue-tied as Jackson King appeared in the doorway, her luggage in tow and a book in his free hand.

  “I have something for you, Miss Collins,” he stated simply, holding out the book to her.

  Surprised, she took it, running her fingers over the cover before opening it up. Inside, she found page upon page of maps, all marked by the paths and trails taken by different explorers. She came upon a page of America, from east to west, and on it were two hand drawn outlines.

  “This is the route I took from my home in Cambridge,” he explained pointing to one of the lines. “The other is the route you took from Boston. Our first adventures to San Francisco. From your letters, I thought you might like it,” he finished.

  “It's wonderful, Mr. King. Thank you,” Olivia beamed brightly. It really was the most perfect gift, more thoughtful than she could have ever imagined.

  “Please, if we are going to be married, I believe you can call me Jackson,” he told her, though that disconcerted look flitted across his features briefly as he spoke.

  “Then you should most certainly call me Olivia,” she offered back, trying to ignore the inkling of concern resounding in her head.

  She didn't know why, but her future husband was not happy with this match. Perhaps it was all well and good in letter, but now that she was there, he seemed to be reconsidering giving up his bachelorhood. What would she do then? Go back to Boston? Certainly, no. She'd left that life behind her, but she had intended to leave it for a new life with Mr. King. A woman on her own in the west? That sounded questionable at best.

  “Will you join us for dinner then, Olivia?” he asked in a quieter tone.

  The change caught her attention, and she looked up, meeting his gaze. There were so many conflicting emotions there, it was almost dizzying. Discontent warred with desire, and she couldn't imagine for the life of her why he was displeased, but how was one to broach the subject? It seemed poor manners after meeting the man just a few hours before.

  “I will,” she replied, forcing her lips to curve upward in a gentle smile.

  She expected him to leave then, but instead he lingered, standing silently in the doorway to her new room. He looked at her, as if he was contemplating something, but just as it looked as if he might speak, he turned, descending the stairs quickly. He was certainly becoming the most confusing man she'd ever met, she thought to herself before returning her attention to the book of maps, tracing the outline the two of them traveled to their current location. She smiled before placing the book carefully on the bed, freshening up quickly and then heading downstairs.

  The group was only just then heading toward the large dining room, Elizabeth grabbing hold of her hand and pulling her along to sit side by side, next to the head of the table. Jackson sat at the head and William sat across from Olivia, entertaining the group throughout dinner with childhood stories, adolescent dreams and a few improper antics about their early beginnings as men. Jackson didn't appear the least bit pleased as William not-so-subtle insinuated about a number of dalliances with less than proper women and he cut him off entirely before his young brother could begin to recount each tale. The conversation turned to mining and life in San Francisco, and Olivia was absolutely amazed by the amount of effort Jackson had put into the venture already, working nearly seven days a week to establish a profit as quickly as possible, and spending carefully, unlike so many other bachelor miners seemed prone to do in the area.

  She retired to bed not long after dinner, feeling fatigued early from her lengthy travels, but as the sun arose in the sky early the next morning, she awoke with a renewed vigor, delving into every aspect of her new life that she could. She attempted to learn the process of mining gold, helped out around the houses with cooking and cleaning, and found herself enthralled with the children, reading the younger ones stories and playing games with Caroline and her three-year-old brother. Around noon time, not seeing any of the men return for a meal, she enlisted Elizabeth's help in fixing a picnic lunch like those her mother would prepare for her and her brother long ago. The two of them walked the short distance to where the men were mining, and while most of the group was boisterously pleased by the brief break, Jackson's expression still told Olivia he was not entirely content. Though, he seemed happy enough to dig into the food she had brought, making her feel like her efforts were not entirely wasted.

  The two of them dined alone together that evening, and while the conversation started off stilted, the ease in which they conversed in letters overtook them before long. Jackson shared his version of his childhood story; the young boy never settled with the notion of a life behind his desk—his father owned a small shipping company, expecting Jackson to follow in his footsteps. And while the prospect of spending a life at sea sounded full of adventure, his father spent most of his time hampered with paper work and making shipping arrangements. He was certain even then that there was something more out there for him, and from the moment he'd heard about men venturing off to make a life for themselves out west, he knew it was what he wanted.

  It was Olivia's turn then, recounting her happy, yet uneventful childhood; the most adventurous tale was her trip to her aunt's home in Boston every year. It was difficult for her to speak about her parents and her brother, but somehow it was easier to talk to Jackson about her sad memories than anyone she'd ever known. He reached out a hand, resting it on top of hers in condolence as she spoke. A kind gesture, but the moment his fingers came in contact with her soft skin, she felt tiny tremors of something she'd never experienced before course up her arm. It was distracting to say the least, but she forced her mind to remain on the conversation as best as she could.

  Her first few days in San Francisco sped by in a flash and suddenly she had been there for weeks, finding her groove in daily life and confirming that she'd been right in her decision; she was far happier in this foreign land than she'd ever been in the teeming city of Boston. Her conversations with Jackson were stimulating and exciting, just as she had imagined, but there was still something not quite right. That same, discontent look she'd seen in Jackson's eyes remained there almost constantly, telling her he was not nearly as happy with this arrangement.

  Nevertheless, the wedding date was set; on December twenty-fifth, of the year 1856, she would become his wife, Mrs. Olivia King. The first of December had already come and gone, and though it didn't feel like Christmastime was nearing—the unseasonably warm weather in comparison to New England—a Christmas wedding seemed like the most perfect way to celebrate the holiday.

  Elizabeth began to fuss over decorations and a wedding dress, and Olivia was happy to go along with the preparations, so long as the fussing stopped at precisely noon each day. It had become her daily routine to take lunch out to the brothers, preparing a separate basket full of food for her and Jackson so that the two of them could separate from the group, continuing whatever conversation they had begun the afternoon or evening prior. He was no longer just the means to an adventure for her. Through watching him and through their conversations, she'd begun to see that he was a strong and dedicated man, hard-working, considerate, and he loved his family with a quiet passion that was evident in everything he did. She had only been hoping for a companion who could carry on a reasonable conversation when she'd decided to move out west, but now, she loved so many different aspects about him that she wouldn't care if he was mute—she'd be happy to sit there in silence with him.

  Of course, she couldn't tell Jackson such things; the discontentedness that radiated from his gaze served to keep her at bay, hiding her emotions beneath the surface. She couldn't help but wonder if he would rather she had never come...perhaps he would up and one day send her away.

  As
their wedding day approached, it seemed less likely, their conversations continuing in the usual way, no sign of a concrete end in sight. As the morning of their wedding arrived, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief, rising out of bed. He hadn't sent her on her way. In fact, he'd sent the house to bed early last evening in preparation for today's grand event. She freshened up quickly, seeing that the sun was already high in the sky, and just as she was about to descend the stairs for breakfast, Elizabeth came bursting into the room.

  “Oh no. You're not going anywhere. We'll have you ready in no time. The bride and groom are not supposed to see each other before the wedding, my family tradition says,” she explained, and the tone of her voice told Olivia there was no point in arguing.

  Sitting back down, she sat patiently as Elizabeth brushed and twined her hair, pinched her cheeks and helped her slip into the beautiful white dress she'd made by hand for this occasion. Nearly a full hour later, and she announced that Olivia was indeed ready.

  “Now may I get my breakfast?” Olivia queried teasingly, knowing Elizabeth meant well.

  “The ceremony is supposed to be in an hour, but everyone is already here...nobody seems to know what to do with a day off around here. My James was up at the crack of dawn, determined to get some work in early. Can you believe it?” she exclaimed.

  Olivia was already on her feet, determined to make her way to the kitchen before making her way down the aisle. “I'm sure everyone will manage for another few minutes,” she told her, slipping out the door and down the stairs, turning her head to see if Elizabeth was following behind her. As she turned back to watch her step down the final stair, she came face to face with Jackson, standing alone in the front foyer. She went to open her mouth, chastising him for seeing the bride before the wedding in good jest, but the look on his face forced her words to catch in her throat. The discontentedness was not confined to his eyes but rather he wore it all over his face. For some reason, all of the talk of his virtue and the dalliances with improper ladies sprung to mind, and amid a wave of jealousy, Olivia also couldn't help but to wonder if perhaps the notion of marriage was not sitting well with him.