For the next three days, the women did little more than work, eat, and sleep. Their meals were with the innkeeper’s family, his girls always insisting on doing Catherine’s hair up in ribbons and braids, and were plenty good.
On the fourth day, Catherine was washing the linens in a washtub outside. She was in the process of stirring yet another batch as several other sheets dried on a clothesline nearby. The sun was shining down, making the sheets dry faster, but Catherine’s little tub was thankfully in the shade. A slight breeze pressed at the hanging linens making them flutter in the breeze as sunlight shone through them.
Catherine worked diligently until she heard a soft, deep voice call to her. “Your hands are too pretty to work so hard.”
Catherine shot up straight, pausing in her stirring, and glanced around the area. “Who said that?” she called.
Looking to her left through the sheets, she saw a silhouette. It was of a man, tall with broad shoulders, but she couldn’t see any of his features. Not until he came closer and lifted one of the hanging linens aside, revealing his face.
Catherine recalled him as one of the men who had come into town on the wagon train the day Catherine and Becky had stormed away from Arthur. He had watched the entire debacle, anger shining in his features, covered in dust and dirt.
“Clyde. Clyde Taylor,” the man answered with a smile that was equal parts shy and sneaky. It sent something fluttering within Catherine’s chest, and for a quick moment, she hadn’t any idea what to do with it. All she could do was stare at him, handsome as he was. His hair was dark and combed back, though it was too long and he likely didn’t often spend time taming it. His eyes were full of mischievous promise, but the harmless kind, the kind that might enchant a young woman.
When Catherine didn’t respond—she was too busy staring, quite rudely—his smile grew wider and his eyes grew brighter. “Can I ask for your name, Miss, or is that too forward?”
Blushing furiously, Catherine shook her head and said, “No, of course! I mean, of course you may ask. I mean, you have asked, and I should not be so hesitant to answer and it is quite rude of me to have not offered it in the first place after you have so earnestly supplied yours.” She rambled for possibly a full minute, tumbling over her own words as her mouth tried to spew them forth, graceless and rather embarrassing.
But if he thought so, he showed no signs of it. His smile grew broader still until he looked on the verge of laughter, but it never quite left his throat. Catherine found herself wishing that it might.
After another moment, he said, “Well? Will you tell me?”
Her rouge blush deepened even further and she said, “Catherine Stuart.”
“Catherine,” he repeated and it was the softest word she thought she had ever heard, more beautiful than a thousand lines of poetry as it slipped between his lips.
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, there was nothing beyond the two of them. The air was heavy and lazy, full of wonderful warm feelings that fluttered within Catherine’s breast and she thought, now this—this must be love.
But before it could go any further, the back door of the inn burst open and Becky came out carrying another load of linens for Catherine. Quickly, the younger woman looked away and took up her stirring stick, poking at the soaking linens.
“I’m sorry to add more, dear, but I’ve just finished the lot of these and—” Becky paused as soon as she saw the young man.
Clyde had straightened immediately, his smile dropping and Catherine was pleased to see that his cheeks were flushed with a light blush. Becky glanced between the two of them several times before a slow knowing smile began to slip across her features. She placed the basket down on the ground near the wash bin and leaned towards Catherine to whisper without the young Clyde hearing her, “He’s rather handsome.” Then she winked at Catherine and headed back inside. When the door behind Becky closed, both Catherine and Clyde released a tightly held breath.
Then Catherine giggled.
Clyde glanced over at her in surprise, his smile slowly, uncertainly returning. “Are you laughing at me?” he inquired.
She giggled again, but shook her head. “You just look very handsome when you blush so sweetly.”
He laughed then, too, and ran a hand through his thick dark hair. When he looked back to her, his gaze suddenly bashful, he asked, “Have I stumbled upon the innkeeper’s daughter? Or just a siren calling me home?”
Her breath caught and Catherine looked away, but he wouldn’t let her do that. Stepping closer, he placed a single finger beneath her chin, lifting it so that her eyes met his gaze.
“Neither,” she whispered.
“Then what manner of magic are you?”
She smiled prettily and whispered, “I hope you might stay to find out.”
Chapter 8
Catherine still had chores to do—she had to earn her keep—but every moment she worked alone, Clyde found her. They wouldn’t do anything improper, but they would talk. For hours, for minutes, for seconds that were little more than breaths and whispered names, for any amount of time they could get. But time was quickly running short.
One day, less than a week after their first meeting, Clyde came to her again while she was washing the linens.
“Catherine,” he said in the same sweet, breathy tone that he always said her name.
“Clyde,” she replied, her face breaking into a wide, earnest smile. She couldn’t help but do so whenever she saw his sweet face. “I hadn’t seen you all day and was worried I might not get to.”
Her eyes searched his face and she noted finally that though he seemed pleased to see her, he also seemed sad.
“What is the matter?” she asked, suddenly worried, her lips pulling downward into a frown.
He sighed, saying, “My wagon train is set to leave, my love. We’re set to leave tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she froze. Part of her had known that Clyde was a lumberjack—or was planning to become one as he headed further out west. He had been a soldier before, but the war was over. The Union had won, but when men like Clyde came home, the world was a very different place.
Many people were heading further west these days and she knew that there was the potential for a good living where they were headed. California was supposed to be full of beautiful trees, useful resources for the expanding Union, but she had somehow managed to put it out of her mind. She had convinced herself that they had more time; she had told herself that things would go on like this forever.
“No,” she whispered, hating how desperate she sounded, but it was the truth. She was desperate for him to stay. “Ask for more time. Tell them to linger longer. You don’t have to go yet,” she pleaded with him, but he only smiled at her sadly, stroking a finger gently along her soft rosy cheek.
“I already have,” he told her quietly, his voice gentle, but deep. “There is no more time. I thought… I thought maybe I could make more, but this is all I have. I must choose.”
Catherine felt her heart break; would he choose to leave?
What else can he choose? she thought miserably. She could not ask him to stay permanently; he had to make a life for himself.
She was so dejected that, for a moment, she didn’t understand what he was doing as he dropped down to one knee, his eyes gazing up at her with hope and terror shining in them. “Catherine Stuart, I have known you for only five days now, but I know that in those five days I have met the only woman I shall ever love. I know that in those five days, I have met my soulmate, and should I leave without telling you what lingers in my heart, then I shall have to tear my soul in half and leave it here with you—because that is where it belongs.”
Catherine was shaking, but not with fear. She shook with excitement, and promise bloomed in her heart as she dared to hope that the feelings he carried for her matched what blossomed in her chest.
Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a pale handkerchief folded up into neat corners. Catherine’s h
eart thudded heavily in her chest as she watched him unwrap it, revealing a simple ring, so tiny in his large, weathered palm.
“I have to ask you now, Catherine, because we are leaving tomorrow,” he told her, desperation filtering into his voice and making his words spill forth rapidly. “But I would have asked you if we were leaving in a year because I love you, Catherine, and I wish to bind that love with you beneath God’s watchful eye so that we might forever be together. If you say that you will, or even that you might eventually, then I will wait for you. I will tell them to go on without me. But if you cannot—” His words seemed to catch in his throat and he looked away from her for the first time, unable to continue.
This time it was Catherine’s turn to reach for him with a gentle touch. She caressed his cheek lightly with her hand, urging him to turn back towards her, to meet her eyes again. When he did, he must have seen the happiness in her eyes. He must have seen the smile on her face. He must have known that her answer would be yes.
But she told him anyway.
“Yes, Clyde, a thousand times yes!”
His face split into a wide grin, wider even than that first time they met. He stood up and gathered her into his arms, twirling around as he laughed with joy.
Chapter 9
Unbeknownst to her, Clyde had already made an arrangement for their wedding with the innkeeper, which would take place that evening. The innkeeper had grown fond of both Catherine and Becky. He had been honest when he told them that he could not afford to let them stay for free and had been as generous as he could with their work as well as their room and board. But he had a family of his own to care for.
Even so, they had grown close. The young women had eaten meals with him and his daughters and his wife, the young women laughing and teasing as though they were family. It had touched the old innkeeper’s heart.
So, when Clyde approached him about a wedding, the innkeeper had been accommodating—after interrogating Clyde to make sure he was worthy of the young woman who he felt so affectionate towards. They set up a place for the ceremony in the yard and decorated the trees with flowers and bows. There were only a few chairs, but then again, there would be only a few witnesses: the innkeeper’s family, Becky, and Clyde’s traveling companions.
But one of the biggest surprises for Catherine was the dress. Becky had spent two years as a seamstress. She worked long, grueling hours and wasn’t paid much for her services, but she became quite efficient. It helped that she had so many sisters, each of them younger and constantly in need of bigger dresses as they grew into young women. Becky was able to make a beautiful dress for Catherine, even in white. It had been a joint effort, because she had gotten the material from one of the women who was traveling with Clyde and the innkeeper had given her the day free of chores so that she might spend it sewing instead.
Catherine could not have been happier with the result. When she walked down the aisle in her beautiful handmade dress amidst the flowers and bows, she wondered how she ever could have dreamed of anything else.
“Do you promise to take this woman as your wife?” asked the pastor who was called on short notice to perform the service.
“I do,” answered Clyde eagerly and without hesitation. A smile spread across his face and Catherine’s was quick to match it.
“And you, Catherine Stuart, do you take this man as your husband?”
“I do.”
They kissed, sweet and chaste and more perfect than any other moment Catherine had ever experienced in her life. They all celebrated with a delicious meal that the innkeeper had prepared for their special occasion, and when Clyde and his wagon train would leave the next day, Catherine would go with them.
As she packed the following morning, she could not help but think she would miss her new friend.
“What will you do?”
Becky smiled carefully at her. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ve found a tailor down the street who is in need of a good seamstress. He’s impressed with my work.” She was of course referring to Catherine’s wonderful dress. “The dear innkeeper has agreed to let me stay on until I am able to get back on my own two feet. Then maybe, once I get some money saved, I might be able to send some back to my sisters and mother.”
“But what about marriage?” Catherine had found her love and her happy ending. Now she wished desperately for Becky to find it, too.
Becky laughed a little and shook her head. “Oh, surely I will stumble onto it at some point. But for now, I need to find something for myself.”
Catherine didn’t pretend to understand, but she did know that working could be a satisfying endeavor. She still hoped that one day Becky would find true happiness and marriage, but for now, she would feel content in knowing that her friend would not be left out in the cold.
“Write me,” Catherine made her promise and then the two women embraced as true friends.
Chapter 10
Humboldt Bay, California, 1865
Catherine put pen to paper for the first time since she left her home in New Haven, what seemed like ages ago, but really only a few months had passed:
Dearest Laura,
I am writing to you first, because it was you who cautioned me so rightly when I, a naïve child, left home for the very first time in hopes of finding a life for myself. I want to tell you that I have found that life and it was not at all what I had expected.
I am not, as you have likely guessed, in Nebraska. I did call Beatrice my home for nearly ten days, but I did not find my home there. What I did find was so much more important.
I am in love!
Really and truly in love. It is not infatuation or a desire for adventure, though I feel these things, too. His name is Clyde and I am his wife. More than that, I am pregnant with his child. Our child should be here mere months into the new year and I am excited to start my blessed family.
All of this news is wonderful, but it is not why I write to you or why I write to you first.
My letter is to tell you two very important things. First, you were right. I was silly to think that I should throw my life out on a line attached to a man I knew nothing of. It was reckless and foolish and I love you for your earnest wish to protect me. But my second thing to tell you is that love finds you, but only if you let it. It has open arms, waiting to catch you, to embrace you, but if you let it go, those arms cannot close around you.
If I had not made a foolish mistake and taken a great risk, I would never have found my adventure and my family.
I tell you this not to change your mind, but to give you hope. I have faith that there is love out there still for you. Do not give up on it.
And my dearest Laura, I hope that perhaps one day you might come and venture out West to find me.
Your Friend Always,
Catherine
Catherine sealed up the letter and knew that the post would make its slow trek back east to reach her friend. She hoped that it found her well, or found her at all. There was every possibility that she wrote too late.
Still, she hoped.
Clyde took her letter to the post on his way to work the following day. He worked hard and it was dangerous, but the pay was good and he came home to her every night.
Eventually, Catherine wrote letters to all of her dear friends—to the three she had come to consider sisters from New Haven, and to Becky, her unexpected rival and even more unexpected friend—but that first one to Laura was the most important to her.
She would have the first of their two children in the spring; one boy and one girl. They would have their father’s dark hair and their mother’s big eyes, and they would be incredibly sweet.
Years later, Catherine would take them back to New Haven to remind herself of where it had all began. She would not travel much, but she would make a point to see her four friends scattered about the country.
But what was most important of all to Catherine was that she never fell out of love with Clyde. He continued to sweep her off her feet for th
e rest of their years, and she couldn’t have dreamed of being happier.
THE END
Letters From The Gold Rush Wagon
Charity Phillips
Haywood, Tennessee – 1849
When the word of gold being struck in California sweeps the country, Elizabeth Ryder has very little interest in the news. More focused on her family and her lifelong sweetheart, Benjamin Shaw, the thought of wealth means nothing to her.
But when the opportunity arises for her little sister to have an operation that will correct her twisted legs, her parents struggle to find the resources to pay for it. The family decides to head west to find gold, leaving her beloved Benjamin behind.
Elizabeth is already heartbroken and lonely out west, but when her sister falls ill with deadly malaria, her whole world comes crashing down. Will she find a way to heal her sister and reunite with her love, or will everything she’s ever cared about be taken away from her?
Chapter 1
Gold fever was in the air. Everywhere. In the streets and all over town, no matter which way Elizabeth Ryder went, she could hear the men on the street discussing the fact that gold had been found in California.
The thought of gold did not have much of an effect on Elizabeth; her family had always been just fine as she was growing up. Although they had never been rich, they had never gone without, either.
Elizabeth was hurrying to meet her sister coming home from school. She was apprenticing at Mrs. Hornsby’s, the local seamstress, and she always wrapped up her work in time to walk her sister home from school.
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