“I hail from a little Massachusetts fishing village myself. By chance you’ve heard of Gloucester, miss?” He offered. He was still going to take all the cash he could from her- all his connections in the town would, of course- but perhaps at a discount.
“My, certainly! My father was born there. I have many fond memories of the town.” She responded quietly. Well damn, he thought. A deep discount, then.
He sighed. He genuinely didn’t enjoy this part. “I’m sorry to say Mr. Sullivan is likely to be rather late. I wouldn’t be so quick to declare him your fiancé, either.”
Her already wide open eyes became huge O’s of alarm. “Whatever do you mean, sir?”
“Ronald Beaufort, ma’am, at your service,” he noted by way of introduction. “You’ll excuse me for saying so, but Mr. Sullivan is well-reputed in this territory as something of an… well, an outlaw. He is wanted by the law, and there’s a steep price on his head. The bandits make their home in rough camps and it is, I fear, no place for a lady of your refinement. Now, if you still care to meet with him, I can make the arrangements…”
“No, certainly not.” She mumbled. The woman appeared crushed, so he hurried on with his practiced narrative.
“Next train won’t pass through until Wednesday. If you’d like to buy a return ticket now, I can assist you. In the meantime, there is a ladies’ boarding house I recommend-”
The woman shook her head and offered him a sad, thin smile. “I won’t be going back, Mr. Beaufort. Wide Bend is my intended stop, and I will remain her for the time being. And do forgive me, my name is Annabelle McIver. Annie to my friends. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
For once in his life, Ronald Beaufort was speechless.
--
For her part, Annie was a little shaken, but hardly cross. How could she tell this stranger the real reason she’d left home? There was no turning back now. As her Aunt Margaret was fond of saying, she’d set her hand to the plough and there was no looking back.
The polite fellow New Englander began to stammer, but Annie was already looking past him to a pair of men who’d just entered the station. They each wore a somber look on their face and as she looked on them, it registered with her that she was hearing shouting out in the streets. The dark-haired fellow trailing behind barely made an impression with her, but the blonde gentleman, with his short, brown, flat-topped cowboy hat caused her to catch her breath. He was at once handsome and, to her mind’s imagination, brutal-looking.
“Y’all need to get down!” The handsome stranger demanded, and pulled out a six-shooter. His companion did the same. “The Sullivan gang is riding through town, and I wouldn’t want to see any harm come to you!”
“Quick miss- if you know what’s good for you!” Beaufort shouted. He’d already dove under a table. Unaccustomed to such antics, she reluctantly lowered herself and ducked under the heavy wooden table as well.
The two men took up positions along the window and began to fire at passing horse riders. The gunshots rang out and she heard men on the street hollering and raising a massive ruckus. Before long, things had died down and the men were helping her back to feet.
“Awful sorry, miss.” The blonde man declared, once she’d regained her composure. “I’d hate to have seen something awful happen to you your first day in Wide Bend.”
“I’ll be right as rain, never mind, sir.” She assured him. Her voice quivered as she tried to sound certain of herself, but she raised her chin and smiled regardless. “My, that was some excitement though. Did you say... I’m sorry, did you say that was the Sullivan gang?”
He scratched his unshaven chin. “’Fraid so. They’ve been terrorizing these parts for near on six months, since Sheriff Dodd got himself killed out by Tuck William’s ranch. Terrible sad news. Excuse me, but need to see to the handiwork. Ma’am.” He added, tipping his cap.
She followed him outside, as did Beaufort. Lying on the ground were three men, one of them groaning and clutching his knee. The blonde man ignored him and flipped one of the face-down corpses over. “That’d be Gus Harris. Never liked him much anyway. Who do we have over there, Jim?”
His friend flipped over the body of the second cowpoke and gave a low whistle. “Hey Garrett. You’re going to want to come take a look at this.”
The blonde gunman strolled over and noticed Annie looking on in fascination. “Not a happy sight for the eyes of a proper gentlewoman such as yourself, if you’ll excuse my saying so, miss.”
She shook her head. “My mother was a field nurse during the war, sir. She has taught me much of medicines and the horror of injury and I have, in my own modest way, undertaken to help the fishermen of my community when such occasions have called for them. I stand ready to render aid as needed.”
“Not much help you can render unto this fella.” Jim said, still bending down by the second gang member. “Looky-here, Garret, Ben Sullivan made his maker. Looks like you finally shot him down!”
A great cheer rose up from onlookers, and as the word spread, the joy picked up across the frontier community. Men through their hats in the air and did impromptu jigs in the street. Garrett simply scratched his chin and looked down at the dead man.
Annie was unsure what to think. She’d been a mail-order bride to a notoriously vicious killer. What was she to do under such circumstances? He was certainly an ugly man to look at, and an evil one as well, but his letters had been filled with sweetness and romance. When reading those letters, she’d been certain that no matter the trials of living in the wilds of New Mexico, they’d make it work.
Still, she couldn’t go back given the shame her father had brought to their family. If this was to be her home, she’d have to make things work somehow.
She was just about to say as much to Mr. Beaufort, to find the boarding house he’d had in mind when a short, stout old man in a stovepipe hat and long black walking stick strolled over to her. Wearing checked pants and a bright red vest over his rotund belly, the man reached out and aggressively pumped her hand. “Mayor McGrath, ma’am, how do you do, how do you do? Would I be right to presume you are one Annabelle Lee McIver, late of Sycamore Springs, Massachusetts?” He was shouting to make himself heard over the celebratory din, but she was under the impression he was a man used to projecting his voice. She didn’t try to compete with the noise, choosing instead to shake her head in affirmation.
“Splendid! Well, this is perhaps not the most wonderful of circumstances for you to find yourself on this fine day, but I am pleased to make your acquaintance and to rescue you,” he quickly rounded on Beaufort, who was narrowing his eyes, “from the scheming clutches of this most odious creature! A man whose sole purpose is to purloin your final penny from your purse and bring you to ruin!”
“Now see here, McGrath…” Beaufort tried to protest, but the little man poked his chest with his cane.
“Sheriff may be dead, but as long as I’m mayor, you’ll stop preying on these young women. You hear?”
Beaufort mumbled under his breath, and Annie thought she heard him say, “Ain’t the mayor anyways.” But the stationmaster retreated to his little building, apparently acknowledging defeat.
The undertaker arrived with his assistants and started to load his wagon with the two bodies. Another man whom Annie decided must be the doctor, set a black bag down beside the fallen youngster and started examining his knee. Garret and Jim stepped alongside the Mayor and Annie and tipped their caps.
“Going to check the entry into Wide Bend, make sure they’re not doubling back. See you for supper?” Garrett queried the Mayor McGrath.
“Capital idea! See you at the house.”
The two men climbed onto saddled horses and rode down the street as the crowd started to disperse.
“So- is he the new sheriff? The gentleman they’re calling Garret?” Annie asked. The Mayor nodded and started to stroll down the plank sidewalk. She followed along.
“I suppose he may as well be. It’s certainly taken him
off the ranch much more than he’d like, but someone has to keep that gang in check.”
“Has to? Aren’t the gone? Their leader is dead, so I presumed they were no more.”
“Ah, we’d like to think that as well. But no, I fear they’ll choose another. Young Winslow will have his knee bandaged up, should be fine and dandy, then he’ll be thrown in jail. Personally, I’d like to see him face proper justice, but the crowd most likely will try hang him in the morning unless Garret can talk him out of it. Jim and Garret will likely have to do the honors. Afraid the authorities in our fair little town have been laid to rest for some months. The territory hasn’t seen fit to replace them either. No safety in taking him to the nearest territorial judge either; the gang would likely kill off anyone trying to leave.”
“Forgive me, Mayor, but if that is your title, I should think you are among the authorities?”
“Honorary title, my dear. Ah, Letty Holcomb!” He called out to an elderly, woman in an old-fashioned dress stepping out of a shop. “My dear, you are looking positively resplendent this afternoon.”
“Oh, pish, you old flatterer.” The white-haired lady sighed dismissively. Even so, Annie thought she spied a shadow of a mile. “What do you want to do, bothering me after the fright we’ve all just had?”
“The day I stop bothering you is the day they bury me up on Boot Heel Cemetery, Madame.”
“That’ll come soon enough.” She sniffed. “If you didn’t spend half so much time swapping lies and upending the bottle at the Irish Rose as you do writing poetry, the good Lord would see fit to allow you many more years on this green and blessed earth. But now, what’s this? You’re not one of the new dancers at the Rose, I should hope?” She addressed Annie directly, appraising her travel dress. “I should hope you’ve not come here to embark upon a trade of sin!”
“Nothing of the sort, I assure you ma’am.” Annie gave the woman her name and briefly summed up her situation. “I fear I was taken in by the worst sort of swindler, this Sullivan. However, I intend to make the best of things.”
“That’s a brave girl.” The woman pronounced, allowing a hint of admiration into her voice. “However, Wide Bend is no place for an unaccompanied young woman. Have you any sort of work?”
“It was my intent to begin inquiries this afternoon.”
“And have you any place to stay?”
“Mr. Beaufort…” she began to explain that the man was going to recommend a place for her, when both of her elders cut her off with a scoff.
“Is a scalliwag.” Letty let the words drip with scorn as she continued. “Mother Nelson’s Room and Board for Ladies is none of what it says. Janet Nelson is no one’s mother, and no one who stays there is a lady for very long. She’ll rob you blind.”
“That’s what I was explaining to the young lady!” The Mayor noted, trying to sound helpful.
“Go on, Tom! But if you did try to warn her away, that was a Christian act.” She came to a decision with a curt nod. “You’ll be my guest tonight and until the next train arrives. I have a lovely spare room open since my son moved to Santa Fe. If you truly mean what you say and intend to stay, we may work out some sort of boarding arrangement, presuming you can find work of an honorable nature. If not, I really do think you would be wise to return to your parents.”
“They’re dead, ma’am.” She didn’t like lying, but it was only a half lie; mother had been dead six months. Father- well, he may as well be.
Letty sucked her teeth at this revelation. “Oh, well that is a shame. Alone in the world at such an age! All the same, you must have kin somewhere. There are certainly other places an industrious young woman such as yourself can find an agreeable arrangement. However, for now let’s put your worries to rest. Let’s see about your things. Tom, if you think you can make yourself useful for something other than being a receptacle for alcohol, you may as well return with us to the station.”
#
Once she had settled her bags and trunk into Miss Leticia Holcomb’s small two-story home on the outskirts of town, the three met in her sitting room. Miss Holcomb served a slice of white cake along with tea. Annie ate daintily, trying to mind her manners, while Tom McGrath chomped down big chunks of cake with glee.
“You must have heard the news, Miss Letty,” Mayor McGrath suggested completely oblivious to the fact he was talking as he ate. “Garret shot down Benji Sullivan not an hour ago, left him for the crows. Ooh, you should have seen it!” He laughed, clearly pleased to have been present.
“Mr. McGrath, would you care to use your napkin perhaps a bit more? I think there is a veritable snowstorm of crumbs in your beard.” Letty suggested icily. The old man began aggressively flicking pieces of cake off the beard, allowing them to fly anywhere.
“Now dear,” Letty turned gently in her seat to face Annie. “I am curious about one point you’ve shared with me. You say your beau wrote you and proposed you come to Wide Bend, is that correct?”
“Indeed ma’am.”
“Would it be too much of an imposition to see one of these letters?”
“What?” McGrath suddenly stood, the cake in his lap falling icing first onto Letty Holcomb’s pretty red Persian rug. The man’s face turned bright red.
“Thomas McGrath, whatever is the matter with you?” Letty cried, then added, “My rug!”
“Well… now see here, Letty… I’ll…” He slowly got to his knees and started to sweep up the cake remnants back onto his plate.
Annie sought to diffuse the tension a bit. “Will you allow me to return to my room? I have one I may share with you, if you so wish.”
“Yes, that’d be fine dear.” Letty continued to scold her old friend- by now she was certain they were friendly, if not friends- while Annie ascended the staircase to her room.
Annie dug through her things and brought out the most recent letter. As she looked at the kind, sweet words in such deep contrast to the strange, violent man who’d died on the street, she found tears welling up. She had genuinely thought she could build a new life for herself here with the good man she’d swapped letters with. It was all some kind of cruel joke.
She went downstairs and saw that the catastrophe, such as it was, appeared to have blown over to some extent. Her elders were at the front door and Mayor Tom was scurrying through the motions of leaving. Tom was hurrying to put on his hat and was making his excuses to leave, which Letty was accepting with some degree of suspicion. “You are in a curious, all mighty hurry, Mr. McGrath!” she snapped, as the man dropped his cane by the door. He dropped it when Annie held out the letter.
Seeing his reaction, Letty snatched the letter from her hand. “It would by my great honor to request your hand in…” she read out loud, then shook with righteous indignation.
“YOU UNSPEAKABLE SCOUNDRAL!” The woman shouted, then began to bat the man about the arms. Annie intervened, stepping between them and holding up her hands.
“Heavens! What is all of this?” She asked the older woman. Tom cowered by the door, his arms held up to ward off additional blows.
“I had the responsibility of educating the youth of this town for many years and Benjamin Sullivan only attended one, mind you, ONE of my classes. The man was illiterate! I at once knew you could not have received a genuine letter from his hand, so I wished to discern who had sent it. And…” she seethed, “now I see why you took such an interest in this poor young woman! Of all the lecherous…”
“No, no, you don’t understand!” Tom cried out. He heaved a mighty sigh. “I did write it. All right? I’m so very sorry, Annie dear. But I do promise it wasn’t for me.”
Annie was shaking, confused and hurt by the door. What game were these people playing? “I don’t understand. Was it a matter of amusement?”
“Never! I swear!” The little man drew himself up as best he could. “My intentions were entirely noble.”
“Impossible. Not if you meant her to wed Benjamin Sullivan.” Letty proclaimed. “How abominably you have
used this poor creature.”
“I, well, I did write as Sullivan, sure. But I was actually hoping you’d meet my grandson and marry him instead. Look,” he mopped his brow with his handkerchief.
Letty boxed his ears again. “You old incorrigible coot!”
“Let me finish!” He protested. “Look now, you know now how reluctant he’s been to marry. I was going to get to the station and meet Miss Annabelle here, explain that Ben Sullivan was unsuited, and introduce her to my kin. Then I figured nature might take its course. Forgive me, ma’am, I meant no offense at all. Matters just took themselves into hand. I wasn’t expecting Sully himself to show up, guns blazing!”
Annie shook her head sadly. “I will forgive it, if you will forgive that I am not entirely pleased at this dishonesty. Why not simply have your grandson write for himself? Or if he lacked letters, write on his own behalf?”
ROMANCE: His Reluctant Heart (Historical Western Victorian Romance) (Historical Mail Order Bride Romance Fantasy Short Stories) Page 37