by Annie Lane
He had never been married, had no children and worked a large property just south of Conrad, Montana. He described himself as twenty-three years old, tall, fair, healthy and looking for a wife to help him care for the house and tend to the animals. He lived alone on the property, but it wasn’t so far out of town that he ever felt isolated.
His handwriting was neat and tidy, and Charlotte deemed him to be an educated man by the capable way he spoke. She read the entire letter through once more. It finished off simply…
I would be pleased to hear from you,
Thomas.
Charlotte couldn’t help but notice how straight to the point Thomas was and how he never once mentioned the fact that he was looking for love. He seemed like a man who didn’t care to mince words and knew what he wanted. In a way, she found it an attractive quality in a prospective groom, though she was a little overwhelmed at how fast everything was moving. A hundred different questions flashed through her mind.
Would he be handsome? Would she have a stately home? Would he grow to love her?
Charlotte had never had a place to call her very own before and she reflected on just how much she might enjoy keeping a house like her mother once had. She suddenly paused, silently scolding herself for being so superficial. It shouldn’t matter what Thomas looked like or the style of his property – as long as he was a kind, gentle man who took pride in being a provider and a protector and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
Besides, the alternatives were beyond anything imaginable, so she knew she had little choice than to go along with whatever Mrs. Fredrick thought best. She wasn’t about to argue. From out of nowhere she’d been thrown a buoy, and she wasn’t about to let herself sink to the bottom of the lake without at least kicking her feet a little first.
Charlotte scribbled out a letter in reply and informed Thomas of her name, her age and that she lived in Seattle, Washington. She told him of her love of baking pies and that pink was her absolute favorite color. She added how much it reminded her of everything that’s wonderful in the world, like the sky just before the dawn or the beginnings of a showery rainbow.
She described herself as slim in build, with waist-length brown hair, blue eyes and a smattering of freckles over her cheeks. She had no hideous scars to mention and she wasn’t buck-toothed, so she figured that was enough information for the time being and finished her letter off with a straightforward…
I would be very pleased to become your wife. I am ready to leave for Conrad as soon as I receive word from you. I hope to meet you soon,
With warmest regards,
Charlotte.
Mrs. Fredrick smiled at Charlotte, gesturing toward the front door as she tucked the letter into an envelope. “I’ll send this back first thing in the morning. Run along now or Mr. Graynger might become suspicious. We can’t risk him getting wind of this while we wait for a reply. Check in with Bert as often as you can and if Mister Ackerman wishes, we’ll have you on that train to Montana before you’ve worked out which way’s up. I’m so happy for you, Charlotte. So very pleased indeed.”
Charlotte grabbed Beth, and the two girls headed down the road.
The mercantile was in high demand, but with the girls’ hurried pace and a newfound enthusiasm for life, they somehow managed to gather up their supplies in record time and make it back to the orphanage with just a few minutes to spare.
Mistress Belle watched them with her usual sharp eye as they fumbled around the kitchen, grinning and whispering like they were prone to doing from time to time.
But this time was different.
She knew they were up to something and she was determined to get to the bottom of it before the school bell rang. As the eyes and ears of the orphanage, she ran a tight ship, regardless of what anyone else said. Her despisal of Mr. Graynger ran deep though and his constant scrutiny made her life unbearable at times – but it was nothing compared to what her precious Charlotte had had to endure. The way he looked at that girl curled her toes right up inside her shoes.
Truly, discretion wasn’t high on Mr. Graynger’s agenda. He made no secret of his intentions and Mistress Belle been an unfortunate witness to his lewd advances on Charlotte more than once over the years. But what was she to do?
If times weren’t so tough she might have braved herself to broach the subject with Mr. Graynger himself. But money was tight and she needed the job. With no husband to call her own – the likelihood of obtaining one grew slimmer with each passing year – the orphanage had become a source of income and accommodation for her. Pointing out Mr. Graynger’s improprieties would also be fatal to her funding. As it was, the children only had fresh vegetables once a week and meat once a month. She couldn’t risk him cutting her budget any further and making them all suffer as a consequence.
“You two have grins on your faces like a pair of cats lapping cream. What’s put you both in such a whimsical mood?” Mistress Belle folded her arms over her ample chest and tapped her foot once or twice against the floorboards. “Well … I’m waiting?”
Charlotte finally glanced over at her and blinked a couple of times. The way Mistress Belle’s waist gave way to her plump curves and the roundness of her full cheeks made Charlotte’s heart grow sad. She fought the urge to throw her arms around the woman and never let go. She would miss her terribly once she was gone.
Charlotte decided right there and then that she could never sneak away under the cover of darkness and not say good-bye to the one person who had always been so kind to her. So she took a deep breath, deeper than she’d ever taken before, and explained everything … right from the very beginning.
Chapter 7
Junior kicked his foot against a mound of dirt, sending sprays of earth flying off in different directions. “Aw … please Pa? Can’t I go play with Solomon just a short while? The sun don’t set for another good hour so there’s plenty of time before supper.”
“I said … NO!” scolded Earl Mason.
“But why, Pa?”
Junior snapped a carrot in half between his teeth and chewed on it so loud that the cicadas stopped singing for a split second over by the field. For a boy his size, it never ceased to amaze his father just how many carrots he could devour in one day. They were just about his favorite thing in the whole, wide world. Earl was glad for the fact that they grew in abundance in the garden or he would likely be sent broke trying to satisfy the child’s appetite. Money was stretched as it was and carrots certainly weren’t high on his list of priorities.
He finally glanced up from the tree stump he was in the process of hollowing out. “Does the sweat on my brow mean anything to you? I said no and I mean no. I’m not wasting my time explaining myself. What do you think I’m doin’ here, boy?”
“You makin’ one of them fancy new horse goblets, Sir?” said Junior, chomping away.
“A trough, boy! It’s called a trough!” Earl shook his head and went back to using his axe to carve out the middle a little more on one side. “What are they teachin’ ya down at that school? You make up words like you’re a dimwit or somethin’ and I know that ain’t the truth. Your Ma was too intelligent for anyone to accuse her boy of such a thing.”
Junior stared, blankly. “So … uh, does that mean I can go to the Lawsons’ or not, Pa?”
As far as Earl could tell Doc Lawson was a right honorable man and he had no problem with their sons being friends and all, but he didn’t want Junior making a pest of himself. Doc Lawson had enough on his plate, what with raising six children and keeping the ailments of all the Conrad residents in tight check.
From what he’d heard – mostly from Mabel Clay when she’d cornered him that one time – the Doc’s family had picked up and moved all the way from Chicago after Mrs. Lawson died in childbirth. The couple’s youngest daughter, Sophie, never once got to meet her mother. By Earl’s way of thinking, that was the saddest part of all. He’d never forget the look on his wife’s face the first time she held Junior in her ar
ms, so he had nothing but respect for the poor man. Earl knew only too well that grief was a crippling disease and unfortunately no doctor of medicine, no matter how much smarts he had, would ever find a cure for it.
“I’m sorry Junior, but I just don’t have the time to take you over there right now, and before you gettin’ any bright ideas … no, you can’t walk over there by yourself. You’re too young and those prairie rattle snakes are breeding like rabbits this time of year. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after that, perhaps? Deal?”
Junior sighed. “Deal.”
“That a boy. Now go make yourself useful and saddle up Lightning for me. We might take a ride over to Mr. Ackerman’s later this evening to visit Rosy. I reckon Snog’s mighty lonely here without her, so the least we can do is give him a report. There’s nothing much worse than missing someone so bad it feels like a part of ya heart’s been torn out.”
Junior might not have been the brightest boy in his class, but he wasn’t the dumbest either, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that look on his Pa’s face meant. It meant he was sad and didn’t want to be bothered again for a while. His eyes would turn down in a particular way and his chin would set to quivering like he was about to say something life-altering … but then he’d change his mind all of a sudden and keep his thoughts to himself instead. Junior wandered off toward the stables, kicking more dirt on the way, but he didn’t mention the Lawsons again for the rest of the afternoon.
Chapter 8
“It arrived, Charlotte. It’s here, it’s here … read it quickly.” Mrs. Fredrick’s face looked set to burst it was so full of color. She fanned the envelope in front of her, making the tall peacock feather in her sun-hat flail about from one side of her head to the other. “I’m dying to know what he thinks, the anticipation is just about killing me.”
Charlotte’s eyes shot up toward her hairline and she couldn’t stop the ridiculous giggle that bubbled up from inside her. She rushed over and snatched the letter from Mrs. Fredrick’s gloved hand and proceeded to rip it open.
Every day for the last two weeks she’d followed Beth into the post office, desperate for a reply from Thomas, but she would always leave again deflated once Bert had informed them there was no mail other than that for Saint Anne’s.
Charlotte had almost changed her mind a few times too. Doubt had crept in and a weird little voice in the back of her head kept warning her of the dangers, or worse still, the possibility that Thomas didn’t want to marry her after all. Being left all alone again was her one true fear. She’d been abandoned once before – not that it was either of her parent’s fault, of course – but she never wanted to feel pain like that again. Loneliness was like a disease that ate away at the soul and Charlotte dreaded its return with everything inside her.
But as she stood in the middle of the sidewalk, her hands trembling with excitement, the voices disappeared and she was filled instead with so much emotion she could barely stand straight without swaying a little on her feet. The response from the man who might save her from a destiny worse than death.
Her eyes darted back and forth across the page, absorbing every syllable like it was the very last words she’d ever read. After a few long minutes, she looked up at the two expectant faces standing before her.
“Tell us everything,” Beth said, eyes wide like saucers.
When all Charlotte could do was smile and hold her breath inside her body so hard that she thought she might just pass out with the giddy feeling it caused, Beth grabbed the page from between her fingers and began to read the letter out loud, right there on the street.
Dear Charlotte,
Thank you for your timely reply. I have included a Northern Pacific Railway ticket to Helena for Saturday, July seventeenth so you can make the five day journey across to Montana and become my wife.
I have also included some extra cash to cover any expenses you might incur on the lengthy trip. Please feel free to use it as you see fit, anything to make your time more comfortable. I will meet you in front of the ticket booth early Wednesday morning and then we’ll make the journey back to Conrad together.
I don’t claim to know much about women’s business, but I’ve been told on good authority that you might prefer to stay in town for the few days before we marry the very next Sunday. Sheriff Calhoun and his wife, Louise, have kindly offered you use of their spare room before you move to the farm after the ceremony. They are good people, honest and trustworthy and will see you no harm.
Louise has also offered you use of a wedding dress and veil if you don’t have one of your own.
I hope you find this all to your satisfaction and I look forward to making your acquaintance.
Thomas
Beth and Mrs. Fredrick jumped about on the spot, clinging to each other’s arms as they laughed and danced and squealed with joy.
But something occurred to Charlotte, and she sighed. Saturday was just a few days away and suddenly the thought of leaving Beth – and Mistress Belle for that matter – behind in Seattle was something she wasn’t prepared for just yet. The very idea narrowed her airways and her chest grew heavy with sadness. She wished there was some way she might have them accompany her, but deep down in her heart she knew that it just wasn’t possible. Some small comfort came from knowing they would at least have each other to turn to in times of need.
So she steadied her shoulders and prepared herself for the unknown. It surely wasn’t that difficult. All she had to do was step off the platform and board the train, after that she would finally be free of Mr. Graynger and those dark, prying eyes that had made her life a misery for so long now that she remembered it no other way.
Mrs. Fredrick took the letter from Beth, deducted her fee from between the folded sheets and then handed it back to Charlotte. She waved the girls off with a sense of benevolence. “Godspeed, my dear. Don’t be delayed to the train or I’ll be as busy as a bee in a tar bucket trying to find you a suitable replacement. Thomas sounds like a wonderful man. Don’t leave him waiting.”
“She won’t be late,” promised Beth.
“No Ma’am, I most definitely will not. I have too much riding on this.” Charlotte clasped her hands together at her chest and smiled back. “Thank you. Thank you so very much. You have no idea how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”
Chapter 9
Mistress Belle was thrilled with the news of Charlotte’s impending marriage to Thomas. She couldn’t be happier for her. Naturally enough, playing her cards close to her chest, as she so often did, Mistress Belle didn’t jump about like the other ladies, she simply smiled and nodded and listened to Charlotte read out the letter for a second time, all the while thinking back on that fateful night so many years ago when Charlotte had arrived.
Her only wish was that she could be there to witness the marriage herself. Charlotte would make the most beautiful bride and it pained her so to know she would never get to see her dressed so elaborately, with flowers and curls and a long, flowing veil and all the finery a young lady of Charlotte’s good nature should enjoy.
Once she’d calmed herself and got to thinking straight again, Mistress Belle sat the two girls down and the three of them set in place an escape route that even the most hardened of criminals couldn’t lay claim to. Explicit directions were given on how to get to the west side of the orphanage – the side that faced out into the cobbled laneway, separating Mr. Graynger’s private residence and the administration building. It was risky business, but it was the only way out. Every other door was locked tight after sundown and Mr. Graynger double-checked them all himself before he turned in each evening for a long stretch with his favorite pipe.
Charlotte committed the entire thing to memory.
Down two flights of stairs.
A left at the basement door.
A right at the cellar.
Then all the way to the end of the corridor.
She was prepared for it to be dark, completely dark, and musty and wet and haun
ted by shadows she’d never see coming, but Mistress Belle explained exactly where the latch was and how many turns of the key she’d need to find her freedom.
And freedom, at this late stage, was her only means of survival.
Saturday morning soon arrived. Charlotte was now eighteen years old. While other girls were out celebrating their birthdays with family and friends, Charlotte was running away from hers. As much as she was ready to spread her wings and fly, she knew she would miss the little nest that had become her home and the people that had become her surrogate family.
A quiet moment was shared when Charlotte stretched across Beth’s bed and she kissed her dearest friend on the cheek, promising to write as soon as she could. The two girls held each other close, tears filling both their eyes.
Once her luggage was retrieved from under the bed, Charlotte slipped quietly from the room and didn’t look back, not even once. Hesitation would be her demise and she didn’t have it in her to back out now. Beth’s muffled sobs were the very last thing she heard as she disappeared down the empty corridor.
Just as Mistress Belle had promised, the walkways were dark and eerie, but she navigated the stairs as carefully as she could and eventually found herself standing in front of the heavy, timber door that separated her past from her future. On the fourth spin of the key, the latch finally turned and Charlotte exhaled a huge sigh of relief. She stepped cautiously through the door, vigilant not to snap a twig or set off a dog barking, and then she closed the door over again behind her.
Glancing quickly in both directions, Charlotte made it all the way to the end of the laneway without missing a beat. Once she found the safety of the main road, she began to run. As fast as she could. Toward the train station. Her heart was pounding. Her breath was heavy in her chest and her lungs burnt with each stride. Every nerve in her entire body had suddenly come alive.