by Linda Ellen
Somehow, he had survived the delay. Sam and Charise were due in on the three o’clock train. Now, with the anticipation of it all, Finn felt as if he were on the brink of jumping out of his skin.
From his vantage point in the upper window he couldn’t see the depot itself, but he would be able to see when they were coming, as they would have to walk down the street to get to his shop.
It galled him that he couldn’t go to the depot to meet her. She was his wife doggone it! His wife! The telegram announcing that welcome news was stashed protectively in the pocket of his trousers. He had taken it out and read it countless times since Charlie Cooper, the telegraph operator, had hoofed it over. Oh, how Finn wished he was healed and whole, able to stand on the depot platform with flowers in hand, waiting to sweep Charise into his arms with an amorous Nebraska hello!
But he was practically a prisoner in his rooms because of the inane design of the interior stairs to the second floor—which were circular. Built thusly to save space in the narrow building, the treads turned in such a tight circle inside a four by four box that there was no way he would be able to navigate them in the despised cast. Funny how the design of the steps had never bothered him before—it had never occurred to him that they would ever be a problem. How quickly things can change!
Sam sure had been right, he fumed, I should have taken the bull by the horns and rebuilt one of the outside staircases, at least the one up to the back porch. Ah well, as they say, hindsight is 2020. But that will sure be the first project I take on once I get this stupid cast off...
Just then on the street below, Kenny and Johanna Bruner, friends he had known since their school days, rolled slowly by in their wagon.
From his bird’s-eye view, Finn watched as Kenny leaned over to gently bump shoulders with his wife and murmur something while motioning with his head toward Finn’s shop. Johanna chuckled and turned her head toward him, raising one hand to lovingly caress his scruffy cheek. She murmured something and Kenny tipped his head back and laughed. Finn wondered if they were talking about the barbershop being closed, thereby rendering Kenny unable to receive his weekly shave. But, the look the couple shared, as if they were communicating without words, made Finn long for that same thing with his new bride. Would Charise look at him like that one day? A look filled with love and that private knowledge of one another that only comes as husband and wife?
Finn ground his teeth together and fumed. What a way to start a marriage! Me trapped up here like a rat in a cage and my bride having to step and fetch for me. That thought vexed him to no end. He’d had so many plans for their first weeks and months as a married couple, once they had returned from Louisville and she had settled in as his wife. He had so looked forward to proudly escorting her around town to meet everyone, with her hand securely tucked into the crook of his arm as they strolled along. He’d pictured taking her down to the Blue Bird Café to eat dinner...having dinner alone in their rooms by candlelight...walking her to church the first Sunday after her arrival...squiring her on picnics out in the open land past the edge of town, or maybe to his favorite little stretch of beach at the river’s edge...
But noooo, I had to go and break my fool leg, forcing her to marry what amounts to an invalid—a temporary invalid, true, but an invalid nonetheless. How would she be able to think of him as her protector and man of the house if he couldn’t even transport himself? Aggghh!
And then, there was the thought that his brother—strong, good looking, muscular, lumberjack Sam, had spoken vows with her and had been traveling with her alone for five days! The still sane part of his brain once again mentioned that Charise and Sam were traveling with thirty or so other people in the various passenger cars on the journey. Still, his fuming mind argued, at this point, my brother knows my bride better than I do! He just hoped Sam had taken him seriously when he’d ordered him not to kiss Charise on the lips during the wedding ceremony. If I find out he did, so help me, I’ll skin...
The unmistakable sound of a train whistle broke into his self-imposed torture and he nearly lost his balance as he leaned into the window to catch a glimpse of the cars as they passed by the end of the street.
Unable to stop himself, he quickly laid his crutches aside and fumbled with the large, double-hung window, managing to push it up and thereby allowing enough room to park himself safely on the sill. Ok, now...it’s only a matter of minutes and she’ll be coming down the street to me. And it’s about time!
“End of the line, Brownville!” the conductor announced as the engine chugged toward a small but neat, red brick depot.
Charise had been on pins and needles since they had boarded in Nebraska City for the last thirty miles of their five day journey.
“You ready to meet your husband, Mrs. Maynard?”
Hearing her new name spoken aloud gave Charise a delicious little tingle all over.
Turning her head to flash a smile at her ever-solicitous traveling companion, she watched as he placed his bowler firmly on his head and turned warm, brown eyes twinkling with mirth her way. A shiver of anticipation and a bit of anxious fear of the unknown shimmered down her spine, but she took in a deep breath and nodded.
Over the last five days, Sam had become like the brother she always wished to have had as they shared their life stories, meals, and comfortable silences while the miles rolled along outside of the dusty train car windows.
The first thing he’d done, in big brother fashion, had happened right outside the courthouse after the wedding.
Descending the steps, wouldn’t you know, they had come face to face with none other than her ex-fiancé, Ethan Breckinridge, and his high-society wife. True to form, Ethan looked the group over and sneered sarcastically.
“Well, well, Miss Willoughby, what do we have here? Is this the mail-order beau I heard you’d responded to?” He gave Sam the once over. “He’s rather a burley character. Really, Char, I knew you were lamenting our breakup, but aren’t you scraping the bottom of the barrel with this one?” Charise had opened her mouth to snap a retort, but in the blink of an eye, Ethan found himself on the ground, looking up wide-eyed at a boiling mad Sam and rubbing a sore jaw while his wife squealed and bent to his aid.
Words unnecessary, as his fist had spoken for him, Sam had taken Charise by the elbow and glared down at the prostrate man while steering her around and on down the street, mumbling, “Talk to my sister-in-law like that, will he?” Beth Ann and Stanley had laughed and enjoyed themselves, while Charise reveled in the warmth of being defended. She hadn’t even looked back, but continued on down the street with her head held high. It had been a great feeling.
There were times on the trip when Sam had put himself between Charise and others who may or may not have had nefarious intentions, but he was taking no chances. By the second day, Charise knew she couldn’t have had a better escort unless it had been her husband, himself.
Now, mistaking her expression as concern over his comment, Sam reached to pat one of her hands as it clutched the back of the seat directly in front of theirs and gave her one of his customary winks. “Trust me, sister-in-law—something tells me this match was arranged in heaven. And...if I thought that brother of mine would do anything to hurt you, I’d have never agreed to go halfway across the country and fetch you for him. However...” he paused with a snicker. “Finn can be a bear sometimes when he’s feeling under the weather. Ma always said he made a lousy patient, so...be prepared. If I was a bettin’ man, I’d say about now he’s chompin’ at the bit to get that cast off his leg.”
The train wheels screeched to a stop then and the passengers heard the familiar hiss of releasing steam before they each stood to their feet and began gathering their belongings.
Stepping down the metal treads and onto the rough wooden landing, Charise looked to her left and saw where the tracks really did end about twenty feet past the edge of the platform. Sam had explained how the Midland Pacific Railroad had only extended the Nebraska City leg to Brownville a mere
three months prior. She had literally gone to the end of the line! That thought gave her another small shiver of anticipation.
Once Sam had directed the offloading of her trunk and bags, he commenced with escorting her to her new home. On the journey, he had regaled her with stories of the town and its people, therefore Charise had been prepared for a tiny hamlet, having grown up accustomed to living in a city the size and scope of Louisville, but she was pleasantly surprised at Brownville’s size. It had a main street with four cross streets dissecting it, and then Sam pointed north and explained that as Brownville was a port city on the Missouri River, it had a good sized docking area for its brisk steamboat trade and a sizable hill on which the wealthier businessmen had built homes above the flood plain. At the top of the hill, Main Street spread out with one and two story brick or timber buildings positioned side-by-side, with overhangs and wooden boardwalks running the length.
As they turned onto the street, Charise saw quite a few people going about their day strolling along the boardwalks, rolling along in wagons, or riding horseback. She could see storefront signs for Hodges Mercantile, a newspaper office—The Nebraska Advertiser, the Brownville Bank, Bortner Drug Store, a blacksmith, a gunsmith, several churches, and just as many saloons—and this was just on Main Street. Sam indicated the direction of the brickyard, the school, his sawmill and lumberyard, and many other businesses. Her mind spun trying to remember it all.
“Up ahead is Finn’s barbershop,” Sam murmured as they walked along.
Training her eyes in the direction Sam was now pointing, Charise suddenly gasped, “Sam! Is...is that Finn up in the window?”
Sam looked again and chuckled, shaking his head. “Yep. The darn fool, hanging out the window like that. He’s liable to fall out and break the other leg.”
Charise shot a look at her companion. “Oh, don’t say that!” she gasped as she quickened her pace.
The moment had arrived—she was about to meet the man she had wed.
Finn hung onto the window frame as he leaned out the aperture to watch his bride and his brother walk down the street toward him. She had caught his eye the moment the two of them had turned the corner onto Main Street and he’d lost his breath at her loveliness. Wearing a maroon colored outfit that looked to be in fashion, at least more so than most of the ladies in town wore on a weekday, she carried a matching parasol trimmed with chainette fringe over one shoulder and was nodding as Sam pointed out things of interest during their stroll up the street.
Although he couldn’t see her features yet, her trim figure and tiny, corseted waist gave him a good first impression. Even from that distance, he could tell she was no fishwife. Corroboration of this came by way of several men along the route aiming grins and tipping their hats to her in greeting.
Then he saw Sam aim his finger in his direction and she turned her head, hesitating when she saw him perched in the window. The next thing Finn knew, his bride was hurrying—running—up the street toward him with her skirts swishing and her parasol bobbing. He nearly let go of his handhold in exhilaration.
Seconds later, she was standing on the wooden sidewalk below him, gazing up with blatant concern while his winded brother merely chuckled by her side.
“Phineas?” she asked as she directed her vivacious stare his way, and he was immediately pleased with the cadence of her voice—soft, not too high or nasally, and most of all, full of care and concern.
He couldn’t look away from her lovely face, nor those deep brown eyes, sparkling up at him. Heck, the word lovely didn’t do her justice—she was gorgeous! How did the fellas in Louisville manage to pass up this gem? He cleared his throat and tried to rein in his galloping pulse.
“Um, yeah, I’m Finn,” he managed to answer, after which both of them merely continued to stare at one another. Dare he hope that she was as pleased with his appearance as he was with hers? Ahh, but how can she be, with me leaning here with this ridiculous cast on, and one leg of my trousers rolled up...
Finally, after a small crowd of onlookers began to gather, Sam laughed and “Ehemmm’d”, suggesting to Charise that they go on inside so that she could give her groom a proper greeting.
She seemed to blush as she glanced around at their impromptu audience and allowed Sam to escort her inside. Much to Finn’s chagrin, that meant she was out of his sight.
He sat perfectly still for a few heartbeats as he contemplated the fact that she was finally here until a voice from down below hollered, “Don’t fall out the window, there, Finny boy! You might break both your arms, and then you won’t be able to give your new bride a hug and kiss!” The voice belonged to Cyrus Ames, of course, who else.
The group that had gathered had a good laugh at Finn’s expense before he managed to gather his crutches and push himself into a standing position. For good measure, he slammed the window shut against the cackles and catcalls.
Charise felt her face heat with embarrassment over the ribbing Finn was taking as Sam ushered her inside through a matching pair of tall, narrow center doors, and only managed to grab a quick look at the exterior of her new home.
The brick building sported a shallow front alcove with three half-circle arches supported in the middle by two brick pillars, all painted a nice, clean white. Immediately above the arches were three corresponding domed windows overlooking the street below, one of which Finn had been sitting in. A large red, white and blue striped barber’s pole was attached to the outer wall next to the entrance, its fading colors indicating its age.
She found herself intrigued by her husband’s shop and living quarters. Although she knew many people back home who had lived above their businesses, she had never imagined herself as a shopkeeper’s wife and she found she liked the idea. Her husband would never be far from her—out on the range, or out in the fields—if she needed him for something. The building was much bigger than she had imagined—and at first glance it seemed to be well maintained.
Stepping inside, she paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light and the first thing she noticed was that the hardwood floor was scuffed and scarred, and seemed dusty, as if it hadn’t been swept in a good while. The cream colored walls needed a fresh coat of paint and the scratched and marred wood grain wainscoting along the bottom third of the walls could have done with an application of fresh varnish.
Along the left wall stood an expansive, waist high counter area, that resembled a...bar? Its surface was stacked with crates and indefinable items. Charise turned her head to meet Sam’s eyes in silent question and he smiled indulgently. “This building used to be a tavern called the Lone Tree Saloon, and yep, that was the bar. Finn’ll tell you all about it,” was all he would say.
Looking around, Charise saw that adjacent to the bar was the area where Finn did his barbering, consisting of various pieces of mismatched furniture, including a dry sink and a marble topped chest with drawers and a mirror. A small sign on the chest informed customers of the prices—haircuts twenty-five cents, bald heads fifteen cents, and shaves ten cents. A large potbelly stove sat unused on the hot June day. There were shelves on one wall filled with jars and tins containing various concoctions, the likes of which Charise had no clue.
In the center sat the barber chair itself, slightly resembling a throne, sporting burgundy velvet cushions, armrests carved with the likeness of a growling cougar, and a razor strop hanging by a string. A well-worn footrest was attached to the front. Her eyes took in what was obviously a waiting area with a bench and several wooden, straight-back chairs that divided the shop area from the rest of the extensive space.
Beyond this, about halfway down the lengthy wall, was what looked like a medium sized closet. The door to that was open and upon glancing inside, Charise saw a compact, winding stairway leading up to the second floor.
“That’s the steps you told me about...and why Finn is a prisoner in his own home right now,” she spoke quietly to her companion.
“Yep,” he snickered. “This building used to
have a big staircase running up the outside wall on the left, but it was rotted and unsafe, so he tore it down. Besides that, there was also a set of steps going up to the back porch, but those were bad, too. I told him he needed to go ahead and rebuild one of those right away, but he kept putting it off, saying he could get by with the steps in here for a while. I bet now he wishes he’d listened to me.”
She sent him a smile and glancing around, she couldn’t help but get a few ideas on how to tidy up the area, and use the long, narrow space to better advantage.
“Come on, I want to show you something,” he encouraged as he rested one hand at the small of her back to guide her toward a door in the back wall. Charise gave a sidelong look at a mysterious, cumbersome mound of what, she couldn’t tell, as it was covered up with a dusty tarp.
They reached the door, above which was a sign that read Bath. Another sign on the wall adjacent to it proclaimed that hot baths were twenty-five cents—soap and towel extra.
Sam opened the door leading into a vestibule, which contained an outer egress, and to the right, yet another door that stood open. Peeking inside, Charise discovered a good-sized bathing room containing a cast iron and porcelain claw foot tub along the back wall, next to which stood a small sink—with a hand pump for water! Delighted to find her new home contained such a luxury, Charise let out a pleased gasp.
“Oh Sam! A private bathing room! With a water pump!” she was enthused as she turned her head to grin at her brother-in-law. He had left that detail as a surprise and now chuckled at her reaction.
“Yep. The story of that tub’s journey all the way from Chicago will have to wait for another time, though.”
There was another wood stove in the corner, and a shelf on one wall that held towels, soap, and other bathing paraphernalia.
Sam gave her a few moments to look around, but when they both heard a thump from somewhere above, Sam cleared his throat. “C’mon, Finn’s quarters are upstairs...and I think he’s getting anxious to meet you,” he snickered as he guided her back to the main room and toward the steps.