Mail Order Runaway

by Julianna Blake

  The acerbic laugh that escaped his lips surprised even Gideon. “He would say that. Leave it to Emmett to take away the opposite lesson than he should, from what Pa did. He always admired Pa…and for all the wrong reasons, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Pa didn’t get mistreated at his jobs! He got fired—over and over again—for drinking at work, or not showing up, or because he got in a fight with the people he worked alongside. And when he got shorted on his pay, it was because he’d been caught stealing, sleeping in the storeroom, or shirking his duties.”

  “And he lied about it?”

  “You’re darn straight! Lied to Ma and everyone else. But it wasn’t hard to piece together, once I had to go out and earn a living myself. Several places turned me away when they heard my name was Cartwright.” He clenched his jaw, remembering the humiliation. “I had to work three days for free at my first job, to pay back money Pa had stolen, before the owner would even give me a chance at a permanent job. I had to work twice as hard as any man—when I was hardly more than a boy myself—to reclaim my family’s reputation.”

  He fought to control his breathing, and felt her hand slide up his back. It was a comfort, but it didn’t ease the ache inside.

  “And he didn’t leave us to seek the mother lode, either. He left us and went straight to Butte, as far as I know. A year after he left, our minister saw him, with his own two eyes. Reverend Yates was down in Butte visiting another pastor, and the two were standing near the Theatre Comique, passing out church hand bills, trying convince men not to enter, and instead turn to God—”

  “I don’t understand…does Reverend Yates not approve of the arts?”

  He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “The Theatre Comique is not your typical opera house or place of entertainment. It’s…have you heard the term burlesque?” He felt his cheeks heating, and hoped she wouldn’t think he frequented such places.

  “Oh! Yes.”

  He could almost hear her blushing.

  “Then you understand why the ministers were eager to sway men from such entertainment. I commend Reverend Yates for his attempts. If you knew the bawdiness that exists in Butte—” He shook his head. “I couldn’t begin to speak of it to a woman…even though we’re married.”

  “You’ve been to Butte?”

  “To Butte, yes. To that particular neighborhood in Butte? Absolutely not. But the bordellos and cribs of Galena Street are legendary—a man doesn’t need to travel there to learn of them. Working as a ranch hand, I heard such things all too often.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, Reverend Yates spotted my father stumbling out of a bordello near the Theatre Comique. He was drunk, and when the reverend recognized him, and tried to reason with him—even begged him to come back to his family and to God—Pa took a jab at him.”

  “No!”

  “He did. He had an earful for Reverend Yates, too. The short of it is, he never had been mining. He’d been playing cards the whole time, winning just enough to keep himself in enough liquor and women. That’s why he never sent any money home, and why he never came back to see us. He didn’t go off to make his fortune. He abandoned his family to whatever fate came to us. He cared not a whit whether we were dead or alive. His only care was his lust for every sin he could indulge in!”

  Gideon curled his hands into fists, turning his face away. He wanted to punch something, to break something—the feeling that consumed him every time he thought of his father.

  He jumped when his wife’s hand squeezed his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry.” She kissed his shoulder gently, and laid her head on it.

  His heart slowed, just a bit. “Yeah, well, what’s done is done.”

  “But why doesn’t Emmett know about this? He said he didn’t understand why your Pa never came back to visit, or why he wasn’t out at his claim when he died.”

  “He doesn’t know because I never told him. Ma didn’t want me to. She was too ashamed. She wanted it kept as quiet as possible, so the younger children didn’t feel the shame she and I had to bear.”

  “People in Helena knew of his…habits?”

  Gideon shook his head. “Not that I know of. But just knowing how he came to his end—it was devastating to Ma. She never got over it.”

  “How did he die? You told me it was consumption, at first. Then Emmett said it was the grippe.”

  “The grippe would have been a blessing—if not to him, than to us. No, it wasn’t anything as respectable as that.” He sighed…this was the worst part, the most humiliating in a long list of things his Pa had done in his last years. If it was anyone but Adelaide, he wouldn’t consider speaking of it. “About five years ago, in March—more than two years after his altercation with Reverend Yates—Pa was arrested for causing a disturbance in public. Seems he couldn’t come up with enough money to buy himself liquor, and after a week of slipping out of few saloons without paying, no saloon in town would serve him. He accosted a barkeep at one saloon, threatening to kill everyone in the place if he didn’t get a drink. Someone called the authorities, and by the time they got him back to the jail, he had a fever and was raving mad. He kept railing at the officers, something about snakes, but was mostly incoherent. They brought him to the hospital where he was confined for mania. A few days later, he was dead.”

  “How awful!” She rubbed his arm. “But I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell Emmett.”

  “Because Emmett was nigh a man himself, by then. He could have left home at any time, and we didn’t want him going off with the notion in his head that it was right-fine for a man to abandon his family, and drink until he died of the blue devils! Ma was crushed to discover that while she slaved away, making herself sick trying to keep this family together, Pa was out whoring it up in Butte! It destroyed the last shred of respect she had for the man, and she didn’t want to take that away from us kids!” He ripped the covers off himself, eluding her grasp, and shot out of bed. He paced back and forth a few times, then moved to the window, his back to Adelaide, trying to control the rage that welled within him.

  The sky was obscured by a haze of clouds, with the weak shine of the half-moon bleeding through. The pasture was a shadowy, monochromatic blur, but for a few specks of light color—a cluster of sheep dozing out in the cool night air. He focused his thoughts on the peaceful nightscape before him, trying to force out the images of his mother, collapsed on the floor that day, letter in hand, weeping inconsolably until the sobs turned into barking, raspy coughs so fierce that she could scarcely drag in a breath.

  “Anyway…” he swallowed over the lump that clogged his throat “…Ma was beside herself. She…she was never the same after that. She lost what little hope she had in life. Even though she struggled to go on, for us, Pa’s betrayal and death had weakened her somehow. The illness she’d been fighting for so long took a stranglehold—turned out to be consumption. She worked a few more weeks, until the ranch foreman had no choice but to hire someone else who could keep up with the work. He was nice enough to let us stay on in the cabin, though. I kept working as usual. The girls were able to take care of Ma—it was summer by then, and they weren’t in school—but Ma only got worse. The pleasant weather didn’t help, as we had hoped it might. She just got sicker. I’m not even sure it was consumption that killed her, so much as a broken heart. Her life was a hard one. She was an admirable woman—she deserved better than she got.”

  The squeak of the bedsprings barely registered to Gideon. But he felt her arms encircle his waist from behind, as she laid her head against his back. “You gave her better than she would have had, otherwise. You worked hard, kept her fed and warm and dry. You worked and worked, so your brother and sisters could go to school, and near the end, so your sisters could take care of her. You made it better…regardless of your Pa’s actions.”

  “I’ll never do that to you,” he said, and pried her hands off him, whirling around to grip her shoulders. Her face was half
in shadow, half in moonlight—that exquisite face that he thought of so often as he sweated in the fields, wishing he could be inside the house with her. He realized now how often he’d neglected her, working long hours on days that he didn’t have to, because of the frantic voice inside his head that told him work…work harder…work or you’ll all starve. That voice had served him well for many years, but how much better was he, than his father? He provided his wife a shelter and food, it was true, but she still was too often alone. “I’m going to spend more time with you from now on, and work less. And I swear, I’ll never leave you. I’ll never run off and drown my sorrows, or flee from my problems…our problems. I’ll always talk to you, and never let things get that far.”

  “I know you won’t. I trust you, Gideon.”

  “Promise me you’ll never do that, either. That you’ll never run off, if things get bad. Promise me you’ll always talk to me, and tell me what’s wrong.”

  She turned her face away, and leaned against his chest, her arms lifting slowly to encircle his waist again. “I promise,” she whispered. “Gideon…there’s something I…”

  From outside, the soft sounds of trotting hooves passed near the house, then on toward the barn.

  “He’s back.” Gideon let out a sigh of relief, the tension finally leaking from his body. Emmett had returned far too early to have gotten into too much trouble. “I think I’ll go see what time he wants to get started tomorrow. He said he’d stay to help with the cutting.”

  Adelaide sighed, pulling back. “He’ll get started as soon as his stomach is full from breakfast, I’m sure. You just want an excuse to check on him and make sure he’s alright.”

  He chuckled softly. “You know me too well. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He kissed her forehead, and left her to crawl back into bed, to wait until he returned.

  Chapter 24

  Sunday, October 5, 1890

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Addie sat on the steps of the Boston Library, the cold of the stone seeping through the layers of her dress and petticoats, and chilling her skin.

  The library was closed, but she didn’t care. It was her favorite place in the world to be, and even with its massive carved oak doors barred to her, she relished the time spent sitting on the steps, leaning with her back against the stone balustrade that ran along the front of the building and curved inward to meet the steps. Addie didn’t care if she was sitting in an unladylike posture—it gave her the ability to take breaks from her reading and look up, admiring the stone edifice of the building, and to watch passersby.

  When the library was open, she usually took a seat at the long, gleaming wood reading table, which spanned the room and encompassed a few of the carved columns that dotted the room and reached up to support the ornate ceilings. She admired the tall, narrow, double-pane windows, each topped with a centered circular pane. It was a beautiful room, but often it was so crowded she couldn’t find a seat. They were building a new, exquisite library further down on Boylston Street. She couldn’t imagine loving it more than she adored the current building—which she preferred immensely over the Charlestown library—but she was thrilled over the idea of a much larger building with a new and expanded book collection. That was one of the many reasons Addie had been reluctant to move to Montana and marry Mr. Cartwright—what sort of a library could she expect in a frontier town?

  No, the Boston Public Library was a perfect spot for contemplative reading. She couldn’t imagine any library could compare. It was there that Addie felt completely at ease…fully herself. On Sundays, once church was over, she was free—free from her job at the factory, free from responsibilities at home. She could read to her heart’s content, without interruption. Even the noise of the city and passersby didn’t faze her as she immersed herself into the latest volume of literary heaven.

  Coming to the end of a chapter, she looked up, noticing her surroundings once again, and stretched.

  “Addie? Addie McGilvray?”

  A woman with a shocked expression approached her, followed by two young girls, and it took a moment for Addie to register that it was Mrs. Gardner, the woman who had interviewed her to be a mail order bride. Immediately, Addie was flustered and embarrassed. By now the woman would know what she and Elinor had done, and would likely be furious. “H-hello, Mrs. Gardner. How are you on this brisk Sunday afternoon?”

  “What are you doing here?” Mrs. Gardner cut in, ignoring Addie’s pleasantries. “You’re supposed to be in Montana. What happened?”

  Addie was dumbfounded. “What do you mean? Hasn’t Mrs. Porter written to you yet? I got a letter from Elinor just a few days ago.”

  “What? No, she hasn’t. And who is Elinor?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Did Mr. Cartwright throw you over for a Helena girl? Oh dear, that’s never happened before. Did he say why?”

  “No, no, you misunderstand. But—you haven’t heard from Mrs. Porter?”

  “No, and if he had thrown you over, I would have expected to. I’m perplexed.”

  Behind her, Mrs. Gardner’s two young daughters looked up at their mother, their expressions mirroring their mother’s look of concern and confusion.

  Addie stood, shutting her book and clasping it in her hands. “I apologize, Mrs. Gardner. I should have informed you myself, but I assumed once Elinor got to Montana, she would have explained everything to Mrs. Porter, and Mrs. Porter would have notified you…”

  “My dear, what is all this about? Who is Elinor?”

  Addie sighed. “Elinor is my best friend. She was supposed to marry a man here in Boston the week that I was to leave for Montana. But…I was too nervous. I just couldn’t do it.”

  “You stood him up?” Mrs. Gardner was aghast. “Without even telling me? I told you that you were to notify me immediately if you were having second thoughts—”

  “No, that’s not it. I mean, I had intended to notify you, but then Elinor, my friend, had second thoughts too. She didn’t want to marry her fiancé, and couldn’t face her parents, and she…well…I had shown her all of Gideon Cartwright’s letters, and she was very enamored of him, and I thought…”

  Mrs. Gardner was horrified. “Please tell me you did not send your friend in your stead!”

  Addie nodded miserably. “I did. But she promised me she would inform Mrs. Porter right away of her true identity, and if Mr. Cartwright was not interested in considering her, she was going to pay back the fare…somehow,” she finished lamely.

  Mrs. Gardner sputtered and railed—in a hushed fashion—for a full minute on responsibility and professional reputation and how Addie had jeopardized her position, and how thoughtless it was, given that she was a widow with two little ones to look after. Behind her, the two little girls alternated between exchanging wide-eyed glances at each other, staring curiously at Addie, and peering up at their mother, as if they were nervous that her ire would somehow shift to them. Addie accepted the admonishments without a word. When Mrs. Gardner had finished, Addie apologized again.

  “I truly am sorry. The letter from Mrs. Porter about the situation must have gotten lost…or something.” But Addie was realizing with dawning horror that things might be far worse than that. Elinor’s letter had not mentioned a word about Mr. Cartwright’s reaction to the switch, nor about Mrs. Porter’s reaction—and based on Mrs. Gardner’s assessment of Mrs. Porter’s temperament, Addie was quite sure that Mrs. Porter would have been thoroughly put out at the disregard for her rules and procedures. Addie also found it hard to believe that Gideon Cartwright would have just shrugged his shoulders, said “oh well, a bride is a bride,” and married Elinor without even a suggestion that they wait a week and get to know one another. Is it possible? Could Elinor have continued to pretend that she was me? She was aghast at the idea that in some distant place, her supposed best friend was masquerading as Addie McGilvray.

  “I-I’m sure there’s an explanation,” she stammered. “I can write to Elinor and ask her to explain. I know it will take so
me time to hear back—”

  “Nonsense, I have to tell Mrs. Porter right away, in case she is unaware of your shenanigans. You two girls have put me in quite a pickle. Think about that, the next time you cook up some sort of hare-brained scheme! Good day, Miss McGilvray.” Mrs. Gardner adjusted her hat. “Come along, girls. Mama has a letter to write!”

  Addie was speechless as she watched the irate woman stride away, the two little girls casting glances over their shoulders as they scurried to keep up.

  Surely it wasn’t possible that her best friend could have perpetrated such a betrayal! Could that be why Elinor wanted her to write her back as Mrs. Gideon Cartwright, rather than Elinor Cartwright? Addie sighed, unable to believe her friend was capable of such deception. Wouldn’t she have known there would be consequences? Addie couldn’t imagine Elinor would have done that, no matter how much she wanted to marry Gideon.

  Stop thinking such terrible things about your friend! Why assume she would leave you holding the baggage, while she went off into a new, happy life? You’re just upset that Gideon Cartwright wasn’t all that sweet on you, after all, and was more than eager to marry Elinor. Why wouldn’t he? She’s prettier than you, and well-educated. That thought stopped her in her tracks. Was she just jealous, and eager to blame Elinor? After all, it was her, not Elinor, who had suggested the switch. Just because the letter to Addie—and to Elinor’s parents, which Addie had given in to the temptation to read—hadn’t mentioned that she had revealed the truth, didn’t mean that it hadn’t been revealed.

  The only way to know for sure was to write to Elinor. Whether or not Elinor was guilty of perpetuating a charade, Addie needed answers, and Elinor needed to know that Mrs. Gardner was sending a letter immediately to Mrs. Porter.

  Addie snatched up her book and hurried toward the train station, anxious to get home and pen a letter to Elinor. Maybe if she rushed to post it, by some miracle her letter would arrive before Mrs. Gardner’s.