“Very well,” Frederick told her stiffly, his expression almost one of pain. “I can hope for nothing but the best and will do my greatest effort as your chaperone to ensure your personal happiness. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Frederick. Your kindness has always provided so much more than I could ever ask for.”
****
Indianapolis, Indiana - 1875
They were delayed at the station in Indianapolis. It was only for a few hours, but this slight pause in their journey was long enough for Margaret to be able to run off and play. Frederick and Emma escorted her to a nearby park to allow her to run around in the grass, picking at flowers and tapping sticks along dubious looking rocks. Conversation had grown stiff and uncertain since their discussion on the train. Emma was uncertain, but it seemed as though her beloved friend was angry with her, or at the very least, upset. When little Margaret went on into the grass, laughing and playing, Emma determined that she would clear the air between them. She couldn’t bear to have Frederick angry with her.
They found a bench to sit on where they could watch little Margaret from not too far a distance. The sun was out, though the air was crisp and cool, a welcoming refreshment from the staleness of the train.
“Frederick?” Emma began, hesitant.
“Hm?” was all Frederick said, more of a sound in his throat than anything else.
“I cannot help but feel as though perhaps I have upset you. If this is the case, I wish to offer my sincerest apologies. It was never my intent to cause discord between us, and I do not think I could bear it if such a dear friend were cross with me.”
She put her hand along his arm before she could think better of it. He stiffened at her touch—propriety, she was certain—and she quickly pulled her hand away, feeling embarrassment color her cheeks.
“I am so sorry,” she told him in a near whisper, her eyes darting out into the park to watch her little girl so that she might not have to face him. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Letting out a sigh, Frederick said, “I am not angry with you. I don’t think I could ever be angry with you, my dear.”
Shoulders slumping just a little, Emma asked without looking at him, “Then what is the matter? I must have offended you in some way.”
“No, you have not offended or angered me, Emma. I’m afraid I have done this all wrong.” He shook his head and took a moment to search for words. “I worry for your safety and I hope you find true happiness. This man… you do not know him, and neither do I. I worry that you are traveling so far into the unknown for the hope of something that will never be.”
Frowning, Emma finally looked over at him. “You think I’m a fool, don’t you?”
Taking her hands in his immediately, James explained, “No! I think you are a remarkable woman who has endured so much hardship and I admire your courage. But courage does not stop others from attempting to hurt you.”
He gazed into her eyes, affection mixing there with something more intense. Something that, perhaps, had always lingered there, but she had never been able to place. Something that might be just on the verge of beautiful, waiting to spill over a floodgate that was sitting there, self-imposed.
It was not the first time he had looked at her in such a way. Many a time, Emma had felt the warmth in his gaze flittering across the air between them to wrap around her and draw her in. She felt overwhelmed by that gaze, uncertain of how to respond to it or what she should be feeling.
It was just the same now. Letting out a shaky breath, Emma was the one to look away first, unable to handle the intensity.
“Thank you for your concern,” Emma told him, her voice breathy. “But we have discussed my options before. I cannot accept your charity, however generous it is. I refuse to take advantage of a man’s pity in such a way without offering anything in return. Thus, I must do what is best for my daughter. If you have no other objections, then I must ask that you no longer insist upon worrying.”
Frederick continued to stare at her. Perhaps he was thinking of arguing with her, of telling her again to go back, but he knew how she felt about this particular subject. The charity of a man was acceptable only when she felt she had something to offer him in return. This man she was to meet in Montana would provide for her only because she too would provide for him, in her own way. But what did a simple woman like her have to offer Frederick?
Nothing, she thought, saddened somehow by that knowledge.
“I—” Frederick began, looking as though he was preparing himself to voice another objection, a different reasoning behind his desperate desire to have her return to Hartford. But before he could complete his thought aloud, the train sounded and Margaret came running back to the pair of them. She offered up a bouquet of lovely wildflowers to Frederick. Smiling at her, he accepted them gratefully. “They are so lovely, my darling little girl,” he told her cheerfully, though Emma suspected some of it was false. “But lovely things are for lovely young women, aren’t they?”
Margaret nodded and before Emma realized what he was doing, he offered her the bouquet instead. Her heart fluttered suddenly in her chest as though it was a bird trapped in too small of a cage.
She accepted the flowers with a thank you to them both, and they didn’t discuss Henry, the man in Montana, for the rest of the day.
****
St. Peter, Minnesota - 1875
The Baltimore & Ohio went no further than the outlying North Western territory and wouldn’t make it the rest of the way to Montana, so they needed to switch train companies in Minnesota. There was another train that went to Livingston, and that was where they would get off. Henry, the man who Emma was to marry, would take them to his home by carriage from there.
In their letters, Emma and Henry had discussed Frederick. She had explained that he was a dear old friend of her late husband, and that he insisted upon being her chaperone for her trip. In the letters, Henry had seemed unconcerned altogether about Frederick, for which Emma was relieved. She didn’t know how this trip would have gone even this far without him. There were careful negotiations, however, about living arrangements before the wedding. At first, Henry was working under the assumption that Emma and her daughter would immediately be moving into his home. From what she understood of his home, it was quite large and they could each have their own room, should they choose to do so, or Emma and Margaret could share one, however they saw fit. The introduction of Frederick into the equation altered things slightly. When Emma had mentioned the presumed living arrangements to Frederick, he immediately opposed them.
“The potential for him to take advantage of the situation is entirely too great,” he had told her vehemently. “You have no acquaintances in Montana; he has many. Should you need assistance to prevent from his advancements, you would be entirely without protection. No, I must insist that the living arrangements be separate until the wedding has been finalized.”
Frederick’s care was sweet in Emma’s eyes, but she worried her suitor would be less fond of it. Carefully, she worded her response to Henry in as tactful a way as possible. She explained in simple terms first that Frederick was a very dedicated chaperone and cared for the propriety of the situation. Of course, after Henry and Emma were wed, he would be entirely acceptable of the premise of the two of them living beneath the same roof; however, in the interim, he felt it was best that they share separate quarters. It was for the sake of honesty and propriety, she had told Henry in her letter. Frederick would continue to be her chaperone right up until the day of the wedding as a means of preserving virtue and honesty.
It was a difficult letter to write—tact took so much extra time and thought than a regular letter did—and she was incredibly nervous when she had sent it off. She received a speedy reply, however, and found that Henry was amenable to the details of it. His exact words were, ‘I would be disinclined to put either myself or my future wife and child in such a position as to have their virtues questioned. Your chaperone is diligent and wi
se.’
Emma had been relieved. Things had been shifting, however, since the beginning of their westward trip. Frederick’s concern for Emma’s safety and happiness had not come into question, of course, but she had begun to wonder as to his motivation behind it. Emma had always suspected that there was some kind of survivor’s guilt involved, as though he somehow felt responsible for being here, alive and well, while his dear friend James had passed away. That guilt transformed into a desire to support and otherwise take care of the widow and child he left behind. It was noble, in Emma’s opinion, and she always felt he was a good man to do it, however, now she was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t some other underlying feeling behind his desire to watch over her. She couldn’t fathom what it was, until she saw him sitting with Margaret that day on the train as they were arriving at the station in Minnesota.
The two were sitting towards the window on the same side. Margaret was pointing excitedly to something which caused Frederick to laugh and nod, proceeding to explain something fascinating about the thing she was pointing to. Margaret of course didn’t notice the sweet, tender look he offered to her and didn’t think twice about the constant attention he often lavished on her. In her mind, Frederick had always been her favorite uncle—she had no real uncles as neither James nor Emma had any siblings—and it explained all of his affection for her. Emma didn’t question it either, knowing that friendship could be as strong as blood when it came to familial ties, but as she watched them now, she realized that it was not the behavior of an uncle that she witnessed. He doted on her like a father might a daughter, as fond and loving as any man could be in that respect. Like a bolt of lightning, it struck Emma as to why he had always been so insistent to take care of the both of them. He loved little Margaret like his own daughter, not having any children of his own, and wished to continue in his affections for her. It would be much more difficult if she lived in Montana, especially with a new step-father. There was no guarantee that after Emma’s union with Henry, Frederick would be allowed to be a part of Margaret’s life, although Emma certainly hoped so.
When they got off the train at the St. Peter station in Minnesota, Emma clutched tightly at Margaret’s hand and made sure that she followed Frederick closely. It was getting easier to keep track of each other now that they were getting used to the ways of travel, and it helped greatly that most people had long since gotten off. Only a few westbound prospectors and settlers remained on the train up to this point.
Frederick told the women to wait where their baggage was being unloaded to be sure that they retrieved all of their effects while he went to the ticket booth to confirm their plans for travel. He needed to get a carriage which would take them to the next station before the train left; if they missed it, they’d have to wait at least a day before the next one would be available.
Emma watched Frederick as he headed to the booth, thinking that he had always been quite handsome. She used to wonder why he hadn’t ever married, thinking that such a wonderful man would surely have found a lovely bride by now. But he’d been disinclined to start a family; she had wondered if it didn’t have something to do with his traveling, a desire for adventure perhaps, or if he simply hadn’t found the right woman yet. Up until recently, she had begun to suspect that he simply didn’t want the responsibility of a family. Oh, it wasn’t that he would shy away from it should it fall into his lap, but she figured that he simply didn’t want to give up his carefree life.
Now, as she clutched Margaret’s tiny hand in hers, she thought she must have been wrong all those years. He was so careful and so sweet with Margaret, and he was always insisting on taking care of the both of them. Perhaps he now felt he was losing the closest resemblance to a family that he’d ever had.
Frowning, Emma felt a flash of guilt; she never wanted to cause Frederick pain.
After several minutes of waiting, Frederick returned to them. “I’ve hailed us a carriage,” he informed the both of them, speaking mainly to Emma. “The driver insists that the other train has been delayed, however, and we might have a bit of a wait. He suggested that if we hadn’t yet eaten, we might find something suitable nearby.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Emma agreed with a smile. “And perhaps we shall have time to talk?”
Frederick gave her a strange look, uncertain about what it was she wished to talk about. “Of course. I am quite sure we’ll find some time for that.”
Frederick and the driver did most of the loading of their luggage, both men insisting that neither Emma nor little Margaret should be helping with such heavy work. Thankfully, it was only a couple of trunks, a suitcase, and Emma’s bag; Margaret kept the doll with her at all times. Frederick helped first Margaret and then Emma into the carriage before following them in himself. He’d evidently already discussed with the driver where they should be delivered, because Emma felt the carriage lurch forward as they began to move. After the rhythmic movements of the train, Emma found the carriage to be abrupt and difficult, though she made a point not to complain—she was grateful that their entire journey wasn’t to be made by wagon in the first place.
“How much farther until we reach the West?” Margaret questioned, her large eyes staring up at her mother’s face. She looked pale and tired, adding to the sense that she might be sickly if one didn’t know of her exuberance.
“We’re almost there, darling. I know it has been such a long trip, but you have done very well and I am so very proud of you.”
Margaret smiled, but yawned just after that. Laying her head against her mother’s lap again, she quickly fell asleep despite the jostling movements of the carriage.
For a moment, the adults in the carriage sat in silence. Emma wasn’t sure if she wanted to discuss matters now or if it would be better to wait until they had more time alone.
Ultimately, all Emma managed to get out was, “Thank you for being so great with Margaret.”
Frederick smiled kindly at her and replied, “I am happy that I am able to do what I can for you both.”
There was more there, hanging on both their lips, but neither seemed able to address it. Silence continued until the driver pulled over finally.
“The train should be here in just two hours,” he explained. “There is a small shop down the way where you can buy something to eat. Enough for a light meal anyway.”
They piled their belongings on a bench at the station platform nearby. This station wasn’t nearly as crowded as the previous ones; Emma suspected it was too far west to boast as many passengers. Margaret was still a little bleary from her nap on the ride to the station and yawned as she scrubbed at her eyes with tiny fists. Emma hopped her up onto the bench where she immediately leaned back and nearly fell asleep again.
“I will run to the shop,” Frederick told Emma, looking at Margaret with a knowing smile. “I doubt she is in any condition to be traipsing around and I imagine neither of us are much interested in hauling all of this luggage there and back.”
“Alright,” Emma agreed. “But be careful and don’t take too long. And, please, come back safely.”
Frederick laughed a little, sounding more joyful and happy than he had for the entire trip. Bowing his head slightly in her direction, he smiled broadly and replied, “But of course. I will return with food.”
After about twenty minutes, he returned, carrying a box and a glass bottle. Taking a seat beside Emma, he opened the box to reveal a loaf of bread, several small cakes, and what looked to be cups of stew. The bottle contained fresh milk to go with the small meal.
“What took you so long?” she protested, though she was mostly teasing.
“There was a terrible line,” Frederick defended himself. Margaret was just waking up, and when she saw the food, she leapt up from her seat to go over to Frederick. He gave her one of the cups of stew and a hunk of the bread, promising her that she would get one of the little cakes once she was all through. Turning back to Emma, he added, “It looks as though every perso
n waiting for this train is down at that shop ordering something for a meal. I was lucky to be as swift as I was.”
He handed Emma one of the cups, which she accepted gratefully. “Thank you. I’m sorry that we couldn’t sit for a real meal, but we simply cannot afford to miss this train.”
Frederick waved off her apology mildly. “Of course, I completely understand. I wish you weren’t in quite so big of a hurry to reach your future husband, but I understand.”
Emma frowned a little as they ate. It wasn’t that she was in a rush to reach Montana or Henry—the man she’d been corresponding with certainly seemed very likeable and genuine, but she didn’t even know him. How could she truly feel excitement for someone she’d never met?
Perhaps a part of her was excited for the experience and for the chance at reviving her dull, unfulfilling life. She dreamed of a marriage—like her marriage to James—that might leave her breathless with a heart filled to the brim with love. But that was only a dream. In the end, the expedience of their journey had more to do with necessity and Henry’s insistence. He wanted a wife very quickly, someone to build his house into a home and who might give him a blessing of children to build his own family. The desire for children had been an important factor to Emma, since she already had one of her own.
The other part of her reasoning had to do with Margaret. Her daughter had been working so hard at the sewing factory, and Emma couldn’t help but feel as though each moment spent there was one less that she was spending at school.
These were all things she wanted to tell Frederick, things she felt were important to share with him, but she needed a moment alone to do so. It simply wouldn’t do to tell him such things in front of Margaret.
Two hours later, they boarded the train. It was practically empty compared to the first one they picked up in Pennsylvania. This time they truly had the car all to themselves and Margaret spent several minutes flying about from one seat to the next with excitement.
Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3) Page 70