by Rosie Harper
As he unhitched Harry from the wagon and brushed him down in his stall, he racked his brains trying to think of what he could do about his current situation. He simply couldn’t let such a gentle and sweet woman be bullied for the rest of her life. He had to find a way to make her change her mind, even if it meant that she returned to Chicago and he would never see her again. He simply couldn’t let that marriage happen. Even if she was a fool, she deserved better. And if she was truly that desperate to escape her past that she had run out here so quickly, then it was his duty to make sure she did not end up in a hell worse than the one she had left. Yet, he had promised Bartlett to take care of her until he returned. He could hardly go about bad-mouthing the man, or try to snaffle his girl while he wasn’t here to defend himself or his fiancée.
No, he would have to be more careful, more subtle. There had to be a way. At the very least maybe he could convince her to make Bartlett court her a little before the wedding. She had to have time to get to know him. Caleb was sure that if she took a bit of time she would realize that Bartlett was no marriage prospect for her, or any good woman. He wondered if Mrs. Suttle might be inclined to help him too. She would be able to get close to Melissa, maybe even become a confidante, and bolster the poor girl’s confidence somehow so she knew she didn’t have to accept the first man to ask her. Reassured by his plan, he headed into the stall next door and quickly put a bridle and saddle on Sam. He had work to do, but there would definitely be a trip into town for him to make come tomorrow.
Caleb whistled happily as he and Sam sauntered into Stephenville the next morning. The sun was shining, birds were chirping happily, and he would see Melissa again. He had reconciled that she may only ever be his friend, but as her only friend in town right now he had to look out for her, and he had no clue how much time he had. He tied Sam to the hitching post outside the boarding house and gave his neck a gentle slap. “Wish me luck fella, I have a damsel in distress to save!”
“Well hello Caleb, and how are you this fine morning?” Mrs. Suttle said with a knowing smile. “I don’t normally get a visit from you for morning tea.”
“Is Melissa here?” he asked, looking around nervously and fidgeting with his hat.
“No, she decided to take a little walk around, to get to know the town. We’re all alone,” she teased him. “Have a seat. Something is clearly bothering you, so out with it.”
“Well, I’m worried…”
“Me too my love, but we can’t interfere,” Mrs. Suttle interrupted him. “What goes on in other people’s business is other people’s business. They have come to an agreement, for whatever reasons.”
“But that is just it, I don’t think they did. Not really,” Caleb said frustrated. “I read him her letter, and I’m the one who wrote the letter he sent to her in reply, but it wasn’t what he thinks he said. I couldn’t bear the thought of the girl in that letter having to spend her life with Bartlett. You know as well as I do that the man is no good. I would be sentencing her to a life most likely to end in poverty. His herd are sick and he has even fewer cattle now than when I was last left to take care of them, when he headed off to his ‘sister’s’ place.”
“You mean that you suspect that his sister is a figment of all our imaginations?”
“I have no proof, but I think he goes off to Austin to gamble and seek out prostitutes. Nobody will play cards with him here anymore, and even the saloon won’t admit him, he is such a mean drunk. I think he may have gone off for what he believes is a final spree before he marries her. But he will never give up. Gamblers and drinkers never do.”
“No they don’t, but I still don’t see what we can do?” she said thoughtfully.
“Melissa had a hard life in Chicago. I don’t think she even read his letter properly.”
“You mean your letter, my lovely,” Mrs. Suttle pointed out.
“Yes. The letter I wrote had so many downright obvious hints that Bartlett was no good that no sensible woman would ever agree to his proposal unless she believed she was living a worse life already. Her letter said she wanted to escape, that her stepfather was cruel.”
“Well, she certainly isn’t stupid Caleb, she is a bright, warm woman. I like her a lot.”
“And I know that takes some doing, as you dislike almost everybody,” Caleb joked. Mrs. Suttle smiled at him in agreement. She could be a little prickly, especially with other women, and there was nothing she despised more than stupidity. If she liked Melissa then it was even more imperative that they make sure she didn’t end up in Bartlett’s arms.
“So we are left quite desperate. We cannot leave her to marry him. Help me please?”
“But what can we do?” Mrs. Suttle asked shrugging her shoulders so dramatically that her capacious bosom threatened to escape the confines of her low cut bodice.
“I don’t know exactly, but we have to help her to see that there are other options. She isn’t married until the Minister pronounces them man and wife. Somehow we need to help her see that out here, she need not ever marry if she doesn’t want to, and that she doesn’t need to live by some kind of crazy set of rules.”
“I could introduce her to young Mariette. If anyone is a true embodiment of what a young woman can achieve out here alone it is her. You leave it to me, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you dropped by from time to time. Offer to take her out walking yourself. She might learn what a real gentleman is then, and might just be able to spot a wrong’un more easily.” Caleb wanted to do nothing else, he would gladly spend every waking minute with Melissa, but there was something in the feisty landlady’s eyes that made him wonder what she was up to. Had Melissa maybe said something about him? Did he dare hope that there may be some kind of future for him and Melissa after all? No, that would be foolish, and anyway his ranch house wasn’t yet built. He couldn’t possibly think of marriage. Not yet, and by the time he was ready he was certain that Melissa would have already found someone else.
The front door opened, and a bright voice called out, “Mrs. Suttle, what a wonderful morning!” Melissa burst into the tiny parlor and on seeing Caleb, suddenly dipped her head shyly. “Good morning Mr. Green. I hope you are well.”
“Perfectly Miss Haldane. I trust you slept well.”
“Better than I can ever remember,” she looked up at him and smiled and his heart flip-flopped in his chest. “Do you have time to stay for lunch? I bought us some wonderful rolls from the baker. He is such a jolly man. I made some soup before I went out, it isn’t anything much, but I would very much like to be able to say thank you to you for meeting me yesterday.”
Mrs. Suttle grinned at him and got up to leave the room. “I am sure Caleb hasn’t had such an offer in years, Melissa. Plus I know he is no fool, and only a fool would say no to your delicious soup. I had a little taste myself. I shall go and set the table in the dining room, and leave you two young people to get better acquainted.”
Chapter Five
Melissa took a seat in one of the chairs by the window. Caleb shuffled his feet as he stood by the fire. Suddenly tongue-tied she had no clue what to say to him. Her mouth was dry, and even though she was no longer facing him she could feel his presence in every part of her being. “Miss Haldane,” he said, his voice sounded unusually high pitched. He coughed and cleared his throat, “Sorry, Miss Haldane. Where did you go on your walk this morning?” he asked her politely.
“Oh just along the street,” she replied. “Please do call me Melissa, and come and take a seat.” She patted at the window seat beside her. He moved cautiously forward, and sat in the arm chair that sat opposite her. He stared into the fire. She felt like crying, was she truly so unpleasant that he couldn’t even bear to look at her?
“I will gladly call you Melissa, if you will call me Caleb,” he countered as he raised his eyes to hers. She had to stop herself from sighing with relief. He didn’t hate her; in fact he seemed almost as nervous to be alone with her as she was with him.
“That seems a fair enough
exchange. You know all about the High Street, I would much rather hear all about your ranch,” she said eagerly.
“Oh I don’t know, when seen through the eyes of another even the most dullest of places can seem somehow more interesting, don’t you think? But I am more than happy to talk to you about my cattle. I have a large herd, and I seem to have a larger one now than I normally have to tend to,” he chuckled, wryly. Melissa wondered if that was a slight dig he was making about her fiancé.
“Does Bartlett spend time with his sister often?” she asked him perceptively, her eyes narrowing a little.
“She certainly seems to be unwell a lot,” Caleb admitted, but quickly shifted the subject. He clearly didn’t want to badmouth his neighbor. “But I have 500 head of Texas Longhorn cattle. They are hardy, and sell well. I ship some of them by railroad as far as Chicago, but most of them I drive with a couple of fella’s from town up to the Kansas border when it is time to sell. I’m doing okay. I really need to build my ranch house, but I’m slowly getting there.” His grin was enchanting. Melissa could have stared at him for hours, and she was almost upset when Mrs. Suttle called them in for lunch.
Mrs. Suttle gave up her usual place at the head of the table, the opposite end from where Caleb sat, and Melissa sat in between. He tucked his napkin into his collar, and it made Melissa giggle. She hadn’t seen a full grown man use a napkin in such a way before, it was almost childlike. “I slurp when I eat soup, make a terrible mess. Nobody ever taught me how to do it without getting it all down the front of my shirt,” he admitted with a bashful look on his face.
“Well, maybe we should teach you some table manners then,” Mrs. Suttle joked as she patted him on his hand.
“No, leave him be,” Melissa said, enjoying the banter around the table. “As long as he enjoys it. I’m sick to death of everything having to be so proper all the time.”
“In that case, I will definitely introduce you to Mariette,” Mrs. Suttle chuckled. “That girl is as far from proper as you can get without being indecent! She came out here dressed as a man, took up a claim and like Caleb here, she even panned for gold. Nobody so much as suspected she was a girl until she came into town after three long years, had herself a house built and then appeared in church in a dress that she had ordered from New York! Left even the Minister speechless. That girl has been making her own way ever since. I tell you, the man who takes her on will need to be strong.”
“She sounds wonderful. I would never have had the courage to do such a thing,” Melissa admitted.
“Tush, haven’t you come out here all alone seeking a better life? There’s courage of all sorts in that, young lady. I doubt you are as feeble as you claim to be or you wouldn’t have even come out here,” Mrs. Suttle scolded her affectionately. Melissa could feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyelids, nobody had spoken to her with such affection since her Mama died. She suddenly realized how starved of affection and connection she had become.
“Well, whether it was courage to come here, or cowardice that I could no longer face my life in Chicago, either way I am glad I am here now. It is wonderful to be amongst people who actually care,” she said as a tear squeezed out onto her pale cheek. Caleb took his napkin from his neck and gently wiped it away.
“No need for tears, you never have to go back there.” Melissa nodded at him, and now Melissa had found it impossible to stop the flood of emotion that she had bottled up inside her for over a year. Caleb stood, and gently took her in his arms as she sobbed. She delighted in the warmth of his strong body, felt tingles running up and down her spine as he caressed her back gently. “There, there, you cry that all out now,” he murmured against her hair. She felt herself go limp, as her body melted into his. It felt so deliciously right, and she noticed she was no longer crying, and was in fact feeling flushed, and alert. She pushed away from him.
“I’m so sorry, if you’ll please excuse me,” she blurted as she ran from the room. She could hear their voices, Caleb’s low and rumbling drawl and Mrs. Suttle’s more melodic alto talking as she rested in the corridor, pressing her head against the cool walls. She sank into a crouched position, hugging her arms around her torso. What on earth was she to do? Every time he was near her she seemed to lose her mind. Her body ran warm, and an unfamiliar want and need took over her every rational thought. She was engaged to be married, yet here she was pressing herself wantonly into the muscular body of a complete stranger. Was she truly so starved of love and affection? She prayed not, and tried to breathe deeply, to compose herself so she could go back into the dining room and finish her meal.
She had dealt with so much worse than this, she thought to herself as she walked back into the room. They both looked up at her, smiling gently, encouragingly at her. She felt her emotions threaten to choke her once more, the tears that seemed determined to fall, but she swallowed hard, and pinned a smile on her face.
“The soup is delicious,” Caleb said, clearly sensing she was struggling to speak. She nodded her thanks for the kind compliment. “But, I really should be going. I have so much work I still need to do. May I call on you again tomorrow if Bartlett has not yet returned? Maybe I could take you out for a drive in the wagon and show you Bartlett’s ranch, your new home?”
“That would be lovely,” Melissa managed to force out. He was so very kind. But she must remember that she was here to marry another man. She just prayed that Mrs. Suttle would not speak to her fiancé about that mind-melting embrace that she had shared with Caleb, right in front of her.
“How about we pay a little visit to Mariette this afternoon?” Mrs. Suttle asked as they waved Caleb off. “You could use a friend around your own age to talk about the things that matter to girls. I’m too old and cynical,” she joked.
“That would be lovely. I’ll just get my shawl.”
Mariette was an auburn-haired Amazon. She towered over Melissa, and it was easy to see how she had been able to pass herself off as a man for some three years. Not that she was unattractive, far from it. She was a very beautiful woman, but her features were strong and her opinions even stronger. Mrs. Suttle seemed more than happy that they had hit it off, and so she disappeared to leave them to it.
“So, you are Bartlett Greive’s intended bride. Well, he is going to think all his Christmases have come at once when he lays eyes on you my girl,” Mariette boomed.
“Thank you, I think. Mariette please do not think me a fool, but please will you tell me about my fiancé? Nobody seems willing to say a word.”
“Well, I am sure you have your reasons for rushing into a marriage with a man you don’t even know, but I’ll be honest with you there is nothing on this earth that would possibly make me want to marry that man – no matter how bad the alternative may be,” she said bluntly.
“Is he really so bad? I mean, I got the impression from Caleb and Mrs. Suttle that he was far from perfect, but I wasn’t expecting that anyway.”
“Sugar, that man is on a one way trip to bankruptcy. If I were you I’d get myself out of any agreement as soon as possible, before it is too late. I don’t doubt that he was a handsome man once, but the alcohol and the women he frequented had taken care of that. The man must be riddled with disease.” Her voice sounded oddly bitter, but Melissa didn’t feel she could ask if Mariette knew all this from personal experience.
“You mean he uses prostitutes?” Melissa asked quietly, barely even wanting to say the word.
“Indeed, and he gambles every penny he comes across. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he returns from seeing his ‘sister’ and has managed to lose his ranch.” Melissa gasped. She had only just gotten here and she may already not have a home. Why had nobody warned her?
“What should I do? If I don’t marry him I’ll have to go back to my stepfather. I don’t come of age until I am twenty five, I couldn’t bear another five years like that.”
“Oh honey, nobody here’ll pack you back off to Chicago, you don’t have to be a prissy little parlour Mis
s here. You come of age as soon as you get here!”
“But what on earth would I do? I have no money, no home – and if I don’t marry him I’ll owe Mrs. Suttle for my Lodgings.”
“Well, do you have any skills, or talents?” Mariette was nothing if not practical, and got right down to the bare bones of any situation. It was why she had been so successful herself.
“I play the pianoforte, I can sing a little, I was quite good at watercolors when I was younger.”
“Can you read and write?” Mariette asked.
“Yes, why?”
“Well I know of a young woman who has decided to go into the newspaper trade. I fancy a new challenge, only so long I can be happy just buying dresses and taking tea with the matrons of this town. Stephenville, Texas desperately needs a newspaper, and I’m about the brightest person around here for some miles, so it makes sense right?” She laughed heartily. “I’ll be needing a reporter or two, if you can write, the job is yours!”
Melissa gasped, this woman was offering her a job, but more importantly, the freedom to never have to rely on a man for her welfare ever again if she chose not to. She didn’t have the words to thank her. “You’d truly do that for me?” she asked incredulously.
“Hell, it won’t be the craziest thing I’ve ever done, and it might be just what you need, little one.”
Chapter Six
A cart pulled up outside the shack. Caleb peered out of his window trying to see who it might be. It was late, and rarely did visitors make the trek up here at night. He walked out onto his tiny porch cautiously. “Who’s there?” he called into the darkness.
“’S’me, Bartlett,” a drunken voice slurred. Caleb heard a thump, and presumed his neighbor had fallen from the cart. He grabbed a lamp and went to investigate. He found Bartlett collapsed on the ground, covered in mud and reeking of whiskey. “So, how’s my li’lwifey then?”
“Your fiancée is a very lovely lady. She deserves better than the likes of you, Bartlett Greive.”