ROMANCE: His Reluctant Heart (Historical Western Victorian Romance) (Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Fantasy Short Stories)

by Jane Prescott

  “What was that?” I cried out to Elias as we saw the group retreating. All about us were bodies and burning buildings, including our own hotel.

  “Charles Gang!” He shouted back. We all of us tried to put together a water brigade and set about rescuing the Chase Hotel.

  ---

  You have never seen so dejected a body of people as the people of Chase after the great Charles Gang Raid.

  It had all gone wrong with an attempted bank robbery. A group of a dozen or so gang members were confronted by the Sheriff and his deputy as they tried to flee. For their thanks, the two men were killed. They managed, however, to kill Ike Charles, leader of the gang. Worse for them, they hadn’t managed to steal hardly a dime; the bank had sent funds ahead just the day before, and the people of Chase found their money was safe in Sacramento. That set the surviving robbers into an orgy of killing and revenge-seeking. They’d lit the town on fire, and in the process killed five people, including poor innocent Cassie Brown of the sewing circle. They’d burned down the town’s only store, one of its two churches, and a saloon.

  They’d also mostly destroyed the Chase Hotel.

  Uncle Cyril was beside himself with grief at the destruction of his grand old building. His brothers tried to console him, but he wept openly as a man would the loss of a child. “We did nothing to them! Why take it out on us?” He cried out.

  “Because men like that take and don’t care who they take from.” Elias had replied grimly. I’d noticed a hardened edge to him over the matter, the mood of a man who was both angry and determined to see things set right. He’d been so easy-going and almost careless in his concerns in the weeks before, this new attitude, given the circumstances, held some appeal for me.

  I was fortunate. While much of the hotel had been destroyed, some rooms managed to survive unscathed. My room, though only accessible by a ladder from the outside, was untouched, and so my belongings were retrieved. I was to stay in a boarding house for the time being. But the grand old building was lost.

  When we were alone together later on, I walked with Elias to the river. It had become my favored place to go to with him, to watch the water roll by while we conversed and grew to know one another’s hearts.

  “What will you do now?” I asked Elias. He and I had spent much of the day doing what we could to help the town by putting out fires and trying to find places for the hotel guests to stay the night.

  “One of the first things I plan to do is offer my condolences to Jody McCormack.” He said, sternly. “Then I’m going to offer to be her deputy.”

  I was surprised by this. “Deputy? Not the sheriff?”

  “No. She’s the best shot in town, and it’s her husband. It’s true, it’s the sort of job a man would usually take. But I think she’ll refuse. You didn’t see her today; I did. Not a tear came to her eye. She’s of a mind for revenge against that gang and, well, I would like to see justice done as well.”

  “I’ll support you in it.” I offered cautiously. “Now, if you’re of such a broad mind about that, I would ask you to support me in my thought as well.”

  He nodded. “Whatever it is, you have my pure resolve to see you through in it.”

  “Good.” I smiled. “Hope you’re in as much of a mood to build as you are to shoot down bad men.”

  ---

  “I declare that I haven’t seen you so industrious in ten years, Cyril!” Josiah yelled up to the aging man as he balanced precariously on a ladder. He was hammering in nails to the sideboard of my new store, built on the ashes of the ruined hotel as its foundation. Brother Wilbur was standing on the finished second floor, holding up the board for him.

  “What would you know of industry, Josiah? All you do is cut hair!” The man yelled down, looking cheerful as he did so.

  “And pull teeth!” His brother corrected, holding the ladder.

  “Yes, and that. I could yank a man’s tooth out clean as you like. It’s no art. Blast! Now you’ve made me bend a nail.”

  I chuckled to myself, watching the trio work. Even as old age was descending on them, it was pleasant to see them tease one another as boys would.

  Elias had been gone for three days. He, Jody, and a small group of townspeople who’d been quickly deputized as a posse, had been following a lead on the whereabouts of the Charles Gang. Once merely a nuisance to the area, it had been definitely decided to see to it they were laid to rest or brought to justice, once and for all.

  On the homefront, the town was in the throes of rebuilding since the earlier attack. A month had gone by, and we were all ready to see our livelihoods and normalcy re-established. I had my small funds to draw from, while Elias had chosen to use his life savings to help me in the building of my own dream; a dry goods store.

  “I want to call it Wilson’s. That was the name of my father’s store, and though I’ll take your last name in a week, Elias Pierce, I want to honor his memory and start something in my own name.”

  “Agreed.” He’d told me as we held hands after church the morning before he left with the posse. “Though, I will enjoy being your lesser partner in the store. I’m only a simple deputy now, you see.”

  “Ah, but you’ll have family involved besides me, you see.” It had been agreed that Uncle Cyril would be offered the chance to work in the store. Though I would spend some time behind the counter, it was my intent to focus upon the finances and the running of the business as much as possible.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He’d assured me.

  Before he’d left, Elias had also taken me aside and given me a surprising gift. “Here.” He’d handed me a pistol.

  I blushed to feel its weight in his hands. “What is this?”

  “A gun. If you’re going to live in the West, you should know how to defend yourself.”

  “I couldn’t.” I said, handing it back, but he insisted.

  “I want you to be able to look out for yourself. Jody and I will teach you everything you need to know about it. Might come in handy in that store of yours; you can’t ever tell.”

  I had never fancied such a thing would be a necessity, so it was with great reluctance that I accepted his suggestion. But regardless of his intent, his determination, confidence, and growing support for my dream venture had caused me to reappraise Elias W. Pierce. For when the fire had started, I had been uncertain in my love for him.

  Out of the ashes of Chase, I discovered that my love for Elias rose like a phoenix.

  The downstairs of the store was in full, working order, and I walked in to look it over. Tomorrow, we would open for the first time. The upstairs was to be our living quarters, or would be when Elias and I had married. Though the entire town had pitched in, there was much to do beyond boarding up the simple skeletal framework. There were windows to install, a proper roof to be placed, and interior walls to construct. Still, with the downstairs ready and nearly completely stocked, I was feeling confident about the state of my store. I was even enjoying the look of the drying, plain sign with “Wilson’s Dry Goods” boldly stated over the doorway.

  It was midday and I was about to encourage a break when I saw the dust rising from the road. I grinned. Elias must be returning to bring word of the capture of the desperados. I paused at the doorway, my hand over my eyes, shading them so I could see more clearly.

  There weren’t as many of them this time, but within a certain distance it became clear I was seeing the bandits returning.

  My heart thumping loudly, I turned and shouted down the street, “Charles Gang!” Passersby on the sidewalk froze in their tracks. As one, everyone turned and fled to their homes.

  The uncles were trapped in their positions. I saw Josiah touch the tip of his long mustache, a nervous tic of his I’d learned he was prone to in times of stress.

  “Wait here.” I told him, grimly. I went to my counter, reached under with both hands and walked back outside. I placed a rifle in his hands. He was as shocked as I was when Elias had stuck a gun in my hand
s.

  “I don’t know how to use this!” He protested.

  “Well, that makes you only a little worse off than I.” I suggested. Looking up, I yelled to Cyril, “Climb up into the second floor with Wilbur. You’ll be better off than in the open.

  The men didn’t know how to react to a woman giving orders, but I thought it might be good for them; Cyril was technically my employee tomorrow, after all. I stood beside the doorway and held my pistol in both hands, feet spread slightly to give me balance as six men on horseback rode in.

  “Look at this!” One of the men laughed, looking down at me from under his broad-brimmed flat hat. “You must think yourself a real sharpshooter, missy!”

  “It’s Minnie.” I coolly replied and pointed to sign over my store. I was trembling mightily within, but determined he wouldn’t see it. “And you’re not welcome in my store or in my town.”

  “Oh, is that so?” The man scoffed. “We’ll just see about that. You can’t shoot us all, can you? Stand as-”

  I had been taught how to take careful aim, how to fire a gun. At that moment, I realized that if I didn’t act, they would take my home, my virtue, likely my life. I fired without a second thought. The man toppled to the ground. I rocked back from the force of the shot, but didn’t lose my footing.

  There were, as I said, far fewer of them than before. With his fall, there were but five. Uncle Josiah drew up the gun he’d been given and, though uncertain in how to conduct himself, took aim. I stopped him with a shout.

  “Wait!” The other men were going for their weapons, but I yelled for them as well. “Enough, enough! Stop, please!” Just in case, I was prepared to shoot another.

  They seemed to sense my reluctance to fire again and paused. We were covering two of them; they all stayed still, though I could see they were ready to act. I needed to cool their nerves.

  “Go now and you needn’t be wiped out. I have men up there,” I said, pointing above. “and there are shooters positioned throughout the town. Go while you can.”

  They hesitated, so I repeated, “Go on. Get going.”

  A man spit, looking furious, but spoke to the others. “All right. We’ll go. But this ain’t over.”

  I shook inside, certain that was so. Even so, they turned and began to ride out of town. They hadn’t gone a hundred feet when a blast of gunfire erupted from a nearby hillside. The tried to defend themselves, but soon they had all fallen.

  Jody, Elias, and the rest of the posse came running down the hill. A few of the men were wounded and were quickly cuffed by the deputies. But Elias ignored them and ran straight for me.

  “That’s the last of them. Praise God you were unharmed.” He said, throwing his arms around me. I let the weapons slip from my grip, glad to no longer feel its deadly weight in my hand.

  ---

  “You sure you have all of that?” Abigail Monroe asked as Cyril nodded sagely from behind the counter.

  “Not a problem at all, Mrs. Monroe. No trouble at all. Minnie, can you lend me a hand?”

  I agreed readily enough, getting up from the corner where I’d been refilling the sugar. I preferred to handle much of the inventory, as it helped me keep a mental count of what we had and would need. Such efforts in the early history of the store are what has made Wilson’s what it is today, one of the finest dry good services in Northern California. Or so I imagine.

  But on that particular day, I was mostly still settling into the routine of managing my own store and being Mrs. Minnie Pierce. Elias wasn’t kept particularly busy as a deputy, but there were still enough disputes in the town to warrant his full and gainful employment. I must say it has suited him well.

  “Will this be charged to your account, Abby?” I asked.

  “No, I think we’ll settle up now. I do appreciate it, Minnie, and if you’d like me to return later I can do so. I realize it’s a rather large order. We’re entertaining, you see.”

  “Of course. Whatever you may need.” I smiled to my friend. But I was about to get an even bigger surprise, as two figures stepped through the shop door. My husband Elias blocked my view of the other.

  “Dear, I was asked where to find you and thought I’d bring her myself. May I present Miss Ida Johnson of San Francisco?”

  My travelling companion stepped forward looking quite lovely and happy. She was beaming and, from the small bump on her belly, had news to bring as well.

  “Ida! My, a baby on the way! I’m amazed you should travel at all!”

  “Well, I recalled you had invited me to stay with you and wanted to see you before things were too far along. A store? What a wonder!” She marveled looking about.

  Elias turned to go, but I bade him return in an hour, if he were able. After I’d enjoyed a friendly chat with Ida and then completed my work with Cyril, he returned as promised. We took a lunch, as was becoming our habit, by the river. Peace was settling into and returning to Chase, as the last vestiges of the wild mining town were fading away and the modern era entering. There were even rumors that the railway might find its way up to us soon, bringing in a boom.

  “When we first met, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” He told me as we ate sandwiches. I poured him and I milk and I dipped my toes into the river water. “I was like a schoolboy, afraid I’d chase you away with the wrong words.”

  “I thought you handsome, but I had my doubts, dear.” I admitted.

  “And now?”

  “Still handsome. Still happy. Still mine. Well, not just mine.” I told him, kissing him on the cheek. “Well- seeing Ida has strengthened my resove to tell you today.”

  “Tell me what?” He asked, suddenly very curious. I took his hand and placed it on my stomach.

  “Still ours.”

  THE END

  To Have and To Hold

  Another dusty, early afternoon rolled its lazy way down Main Street, forcing locals to cover up their mouths with handkerchiefs to avoid coughing and wheezing. A brace of cowpokes from the outskirts of Wide Bend rode through town, whooping and hollering in their joy at having a day off. After they’d hitched up in front of The Irish Rose Tavern, it was the end of the excitement. The citizens didn’t even bother to shake their heads in disapproval; that sort of thing was far from unusual in New Mexico territory. Instead, they continued their leisurely stroll with no reasonable expectation for anything much interesting happening the rest of the week.

  Of course, there was always the possibility the Tulsa, Amarillo, and Flagstaff would actually stop for once and unload an interesting passenger or two. As it happened that day, one young woman was stepping off the train, much to her dawning shock and horror. While she was certainly beautiful, her fears were hardly worthy of comment. How many would-be brides had taken the train west only to turn right back around and buy a ticket back east? Too many to count.

  Station manager Ronald Beaufort had seen it all before, enough times that he knew how to be appropriately sympathetic and helpful while profiting from other’s misfortune. He scratched his balding temple and expertly shot brown grit into his spittoon as she stood, open-mouthed and wondering, alone on the wooden platform. Certainly a pretty young thing, he thought, admiring her poised, slight figure. Neatly tucked beneath a broad-brimmed blue hat, her red hair suggested she might be Irish. She wore a white, light-green-striped travelling dress, likely purchased in whichever Ohio, Illinois, or New York small town dress shop she’d last done her shopping. The porters had dropped a trunk beside her along with several pieces of luggage, none of which she’d be able to haul to Mother Nelson’s Room and Board for Ladies on her own. He waited a moment for her to take in the primitive, arid town before he left his windowed office to greet her.

  “Waiting for someone, Miss?” He asked, knowing full well she was.

  She had been wringing her gloved hands nervously and immediately stopped when addressed. “I’m afraid there may have been a mistake.” Her voice was low and embarrassed, with none of the shrill righteous anger or contempt he’d beco
me used to dealing with. While that worked to put her somewhat in Beaufort’s good graces, it was her accent that brightened his spirits.

  “My goodness! Are you from Massachusetts, by any chance?”

  She smiled and nodded gratefully, recognizing the familiar New England tones in his speech patterns as well. “A little town by the name of Sycamore Springs, yes. I came to answer a letter from my fiancé, Mr. Benjamin Sullivan.”

  He wrinkled his nose involuntarily at the name, motioning towards the cool shade beneath the station’s overhanging roof and the nearby entrance to the station. She followed cautiously, as Beaufort snapped his fingers at the men idling on a bench nearby. “Help this lady with her things; into the station with them at once. Quickly you! Can’t be too careful ma’am, thieves all over here.” He placed emphasis on the word “thieves,” to let that threat sink in.

  Beaufort stepped into the station with the woman he’d taken under his wings, her possessions brought in behind her. She thanked the men profusely, so much so that Beaufort was shocked when Morris, the head of his baggage-handling gang, initially refused a tip when she offered it. “Weren’t nothing ma’am.” Morris gushed. Even so, she pressed a coin into each man’s hand. The station manager wondered if Morris’ reluctance had more to do with her kindly disposition than her pretty face. To be fair, she was a fresh breath of air compared to the many horsey-faced girls who’d passed through the station master’s routine of fleecing them.