by Debra Samms
The other men blinked, and looked past him down the road.
"The Cedar Ridge Dairy," said Sheriff Strong.
"It's only a mile to the west," said Beast Bradley.
"Safe," growled George the Giant Ox.
"Come with me, Red," said the sheriff, breaking into a run towards the livery stable at the end of town. "We'll go look there right now!"
CHAPTER TEN
"Going somewhere?"
Maeve jerked her head up from where she sat in the clover by the fence. She looked into the face of a man she did not recognize – but she sure recognized the voice. This was the one who'd grabbed her and tied her and left her out here.
And now he was back.
"Just let me go," said Maeve, struggling to stand with her hands still tied behind her back. "We'll forget all about it. Just let me go."
"No way, you hideous old witch. You're just tough enough you might find your way back into town. Most women would give up, but you wouldn't. And you're too mean to keep your mouth shut about this. You'd rat me out."
"Now – listen – I don't – "
"Shut up!" The man grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the fence, marching her across the pasture towards the woods on the far side. "Nobody's ever going to find out about this. Nobody'll ever find what's left of you when I throw you into that canyon on the other side of this ridge. Nobody'll ever know."
***
Sheriff Strong swung up on Butterfly, his quick little Palouse mare that he'd brought with him from Idaho. Red climbed aboard Big Joe, a huge black draft horse that belonged to the sheriff's wife.
Soon the mare was racing along the road to the west while Red did his best to persuade the big lumbering work horse to catch up. But the massive horse soon caught his stride, for he didn't want the little mare to leave him behind; and it wasn't long before they'd covered the mile and were coming up onto the Cedar Ridge Dairy.
Up ahead, Sheriff Strong started yelling. "Stop! Let her go! Let her go now!"
Red vaulted down from Big Joe and raced ahead, reaching for the pistol at his belt. To his horror, he saw that someone – some man – had Maeve in his grip and was half-walking and half-dragging her across the clover field behind the dairy barn.
And he saw right away who it was.
"Let her go, Hank!" roared Red. "Or we'll shoot!"
Hank turned around to look and then pulled his own pistol from his belt. Maeve threw herself down out of the way and tried her best to trip her captor. And then both Red and the Sheriff fired their pistols.
Hank dropped like a rag doll to the clover.
***
Red and the sheriff both vaulted over the fence. Sheriff Strong went to the fallen man, while Red raced over to Maeve and slid down to sit beside her.
"You're here," she said, as he first cut the ropes from her wrists and then lifted her to sit beside him. She couldn't keep the wonder out of her voice. "When I realized I'd been dragged off and was alone . . . I wondered if you'd even come to look for me."
He sat back, with a surprisingly gentle look on his face. "Why shouldn't I come to look for my wife?"
"Because – if your wife is gone, you could look for another. One that 's not so strong-minded. And one who's a lot prettier."
"Now, Maeve – "
"We both know it would be a kindness to call me plain. And you being a man, there's no sin in wanting a wife who's better than plain."
Red looked down for a moment, and smiled. Then he looked up again. "Sometimes a person has such a beauty on the inside that it shines right through to the outside . . . and nobody who really knows them can ever help but see it.
"You're one of those people, Maeve. I don't ever again want you to think on how you look. If I'm good enough for you, you're plenty good enough for me."
"Well, I thankee, Mr. Lyon. You're more than good enough for me. Now, then – "
She got to her feet, still rubbing her rope-burned wrists. "We'd best be getting home. I've got work to do. And I guess you've missed a day's wages looking for me. I'll do what I can to make it up to you. I've got a little put by – "
He frowned, and his red-gold eyebrows drew close together. "Maeve Harrison! Listen to me for one single time. You've got to trust me enough to do what I'm telling you to do when I know more about it then you do!"
"I'm not Maeve Harrison."
"What?"
"My name's Mrs. Red Lyon now. I guess if I could trust you enough to marry you, I could trust you enough with a few other things."
"Sometimes it takes the strongest woman to let go and trust someone else – at least with a few things," Red told her.
And then, to her amazement, he reached down and lifted her up, cradling her against his chest as though she were just a child. "All right, then, Mrs. Lyon. Let's go."
"Just one more thing."
"Yeah?" he said, a little of his impatience returning. "What?"
"You can call me Maeve. Mrs. Lyon is for everybody else." She managed to look at him with a little smile. "Please."
"All right then, Maeve. Let's go home."
THE END
MAEVE AND THE SHIVAREE
A Sawyerville Brides story
Delilah And The Whitewater Wedding
A Sawyerville Brides Story
CHAPTER ONE
July, 1878
Delilah came running down the ridge from the Sawyerville Ladies' House to the main road and found Bradley Fisher waiting for her near the livery stable – the place where they'd talked the first time they'd walked out together.
"Mrs. Strong came up and told me you were here," she said, smiling brightly and a little breathless as she ran up to him. "I'm so happy to see you!"
But Bradley only stared hard at her, and then walked with long stomping strides over to the rail fence behind the barn. He stood there facing away from her with one arm draped over the rail.
"What's wrong?" Delilah asked. "What's troubling you?"
He turned and once again fixed her with a hard glare. "I just want to know why you put a curse on my cut site."
"What on earth are you talking about? A curse? On – what? What are you saying?"
"This." And to her complete shock, Bradley pulled out the embroidered pink handkerchief she had given him and threw it at her feet.
She could only shake her head and look at him, stumbling over her words. "I – I made this myself, and embroidered it myself! I wanted to send a little of myself with you because I knew you'd be gone for weeks. And now I'm sorry that I did!"
***
As told in Journey to Sawyerville:
Sawyerville, Oregon
May, 1878
After making the very long ten-week trip from Manchester, New Hampshire to the logging town of Sawyerville, Oregon by way of steamship and cross-country railroad, Delilah Marie Michaels and some forty-nine other young women finally rolled into town on a covered wagon train.
But they had gotten a raucous and frightening welcome from the hundreds of men working and living in the logging camp – the men they'd come here to marry. The loggers had charged the wagon train and, as a result, the women refused to leave the boarding house they lived in. They were threatening to go back east – and ten of them actually did.
The sheriff's wife, Molly Strong, who had arranged to bring the prospective brides in the first place, tried everything to get the men and women acquainted: a picnic, a tea, and even a street party with dancing.
But neither the women nor the men wanted any part of it. The women were scared to death of the crude loggers, while the men were put off by the standoffish ways of the eastern girls.
Things improved a little when five more brides arrived – five very strong women who were country-raised and tough as any man, and who would tolerate neither bad behavior from the men nor excessive timidity from the women. Indeed, they'd made the two sides waltz with each other on the very day they'd arrived.
Even Delilah had found herself dancing, and her partner had b
een a tall, slim, muscular man with dark hair and cold blue eyes who'd walked straight over to her. She'd recognized him right away as "Beast" Bradley, the biggest man in the camp. Though petite blonde Delilah barely came up to his shoulder, they'd managed a slightly awkward waltz just fine.
But most of the other brides were not convinced. Life went on in Sawyerville under a very uneasy truce between the ladies from the east and some of the most rugged men in the west.
***
June, 1878
The logging town of Sawyerville, Oregon, sat up on a ridge with a wide main road running through it, and looked down on a seemingly endless number of haphazard tents pitched on the side of the hill below. The tents formed a huge encampment between the town up on the ridge and the wide Umpqua River far below.
On the main road through town were the businesses: places like the Sliding Belle saloon, the Frost Mercantile, the livery stable, and the sheriff's office, to name just a few. Above the main road, near the very top of the ridge, was the high road where all of the houses and cabins were built.
By far the largest of the homes was the two-story Sawyerville Ladies' House, which was home to the forty-five women who were now here to meet the loggers and, it was hoped, to marry them.
On a fine breezy afternoon in early June, Delilah Michaels sat on the very large front porch of the Ladies' House with her embroidery. From there she could look down on the camp and see the tents well enough, scattered as they were among the huge trees on the hill, and catch glimpses of the rushing river far down at the bottom of the slope.
Several of the other girls came out to join her, laughing and talking. Delilah looked forward to a pleasant hour of embroidery and gossip – but just then, they had another visitor.
"Good afternoon, ladies!"
They all looked up to see Molly Strong walking down the road. Molly was the wife of the sheriff and the woman who had first arranged to bring all these brides to Sawyerville in the first place.
She stepped up onto the porch and held out a folded piece of paper. "You are Delilah Michaels, aren't you?" she asked.
"Oh, yes ma'am," Delilah said, starting to stand up.
"In that case, I have a note for you! A gentleman brought it to me at the sheriff's office and asked me to deliver it for him since the men aren't allowed up here. So, here you are!"
"Why, thank you so kindly, Mrs. Strong," Delilah said, taking the note from her. "I'm sure there was no need for that."
"Oh, but I enjoy coming up here. I'm glad to see you all doing so well."
Instantly all of the girls gathered close around Delilah, squealing in delight.
"A note!"
"Who's it from?"
"What's it say?"
Trying to ignore them, Delilah opened the note. It was written on heavy paper with what looked like charcoal, but it was easy enough to read:
Miss Michaels,
Please meet me tomorrow evening up at the Mercantile about seven. We could walk along the sidewalk. Share a small bag of rock candy.
Bradley Fisher
CHAPTER TWO
"Oh, Delilah! That's 'Beast' Bradley – the same man you waltzed with at the street party!"
"Mr. Bradley's the biggest man in the camp."
"And he wants you to go for a walk with him! And share candy!"
But Delilah only lowered the note and frowned at the rest of the girls. "I'm not sure it's the best idea."
"Oh, why ever not?"
"We'll go with you and watch. We'll be close the whole time."
"He is one of the handsomest men in this camp."
"Sure he is. But that's because he's a river rat, poling the logs, and he sometimes falls in the water and so he is clean!"
Delilah could not help but smile at them, but still shook her head. "I've encountered him before – before the waltz. And his name isn't 'Beast' and it isn't Mr. Bradley. It's Mr. Fisher. Bradley Fisher."
"You've encountered him more than once, haven't you?" said Pauline, one of Delilah's close friends.
"Yes. I have. The first time was at the tea Mrs. Strong held for us a couple of weeks ago. He hadn't bothered to wash before coming up here to this house and he was extremely rude to me that day. To say the least. He didn't like me at all. He said, 'I'll be back for you when I've had enough to drink. Which will be never.' He was truly awful.
"And it was no better at the picnic after that. The one out at the dairy farm, in that pretty clover field. Mrs. Strong went to great lengths to arrange a nice outing for us, but all the men were just as rude and awful then as they'd been at the tea. And they never even thanked us from bringing them their picnic lunch."
The other girls nodded in agreement, and so did Molly Strong. "They were all dreadful, both times," Mrs. Strong said, "but they've gotten somewhat better now. And that note sounds perfectly polite."
"It does," Delilah said. "So – why is he asking to see me now?"
"Dancing can sometimes work miracles, you know," said Mrs. Strong. "When he waltzed with you, he got a chance to see you up close and look into your eyes. Maybe that was all he needed."
But Delilah still felt very uneasy. "What is it?" asked Mrs. Strong. "You'll be quite safe in the town, I assure you. I'll be there, and so will Sheriff Strong. The other girls said they'd follow along, too."
All of the girls immediately squealed in happy agreement, but Mrs. Strong held up her hand to silence them. "What's troubling you, Delilah? I can see that something is."
She started to answer, but then was silent again. "I'd rather leave it in the past," she said quietly. "That's at least partly why I'm here. Trying to start over. I'm – I'm sure you understand."
Mrs. Strong could only nod in agreement. "All right, then. Maybe you just got your chance to start over – and with Bradley Fisher."
This time, Delilah smiled shyly. "He is handsome, even under all that sweat and grime. I never thought to see a man so tall! If he would just wash up properly and put on clean clothes, I can only imagine how I might feel about him then."
***
Thursday, June 4, 1878
The following day, late in the afternoon near seven o'clock, Delilah put on a nice pink gingham dress with a white apron and a white bonnet, took up her little knit bag that had a pale pink handkerchief and a few coins in it, and walked down the front steps of the Sawyerville Ladies' House.
As she walked down the high road, she tried not to notice the crowd of at least a dozen other girls who followed along at a short distance and couldn't stop giggling. Delilah kept her head high and followed the switchback down to the main road. There were buildings only on one side of it, for the other side simply dropped away to the hillside with its huge trees and many, many crude tents.
Finally she stepped up onto the wooden walkway which ran in front of the buildings and followed it down to the Frost Mercantile – and there he was.
Bradley Fisher, tall and dark-haired with cold blue eyes, stood in front of the store watching her as she made her way up the walkway. She could see that he had, indeed, made some effort to clean up. His hair was wet and had been combed flat, and his rough blue work shirt and tan pants appeared to be clean. Even his heavy leather suspenders had a little shine to them.
"Why, hello, Mr. Fisher," Delilah said politely, standing a few feet back from him. Even from here, she could see that her head barely came up to his shoulder.
"Hello, Miss Michaels," he responded, speaking each word very carefully. "How are you this afternoon?"
She grinned. He seemed to have been practicing, but she was not about to embarrass him by pointing it out. "Very well, thank you. And yourself?"
"I am well, thank you." He stepped back and turned towards the door of the mercantile. "I was going to buy some rock candy. I'll share it with you."
"Thank you. I'd like that."
In a few moments they came out of the mercantile with a little paper sack holding a few pennies' worth of rock candy, and Delilah walked beside Bradley as they headed ba
ck towards the end of the street where the livery stable was built.
Thankfully, the crowd of other girls was no longer in sight.
The large barn was the only structure on the far side of the road. The two of them walked around to the back of the barn, where the corrals and pens behind it had been built under the trees and down the side of the hill.
"Here." Bradley sat down on a fallen log near the far end of the nearest corral. The log was out under the trees but still within sight of the road and even the campsite below, and was actually a very pretty spot among the tall stately timber and the delicate ferns.
They sat down together, and he offered her the bag of candy first. She gingerly took it out and found that it was just a lump of crystallized sugar. It actually had a piece of string running through it, but she had to try it. "Oh, it's good!" she said, crunching up the piece and then delicately removing the string from her mouth.
"My favorite," said Bradley. "Sometimes they have peppermint flavor rock candy. That's even better."
She nodded. "I'm sure I could learn to make that. It looks simple enough. Just mix up sugar and water and flavoring, and let it crystallize on a string."
"That'd be fine."
Quickly she sat up and turned away from him. Already they were talking like they were a couple! Things were moving very quickly. She felt as though her head was spinning, and wondered if she should even be here with this man at all.
CHAPTER THREE
Bradley sat in silence. Delilah was nearly ready to get up and hurry back to the house, but instead she made herself stay – and changed the subject.
"I – I know you work down on the water," she began. "You walk out on the floating logs with a pole and break up the log jams so they can float free and go on down to the sawmill with the river's current."