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Once Upon The Prairie (The Brides Of Courage, Kansas, Book 1)

Page 13

by Lenny Davis

Chapter 13

  Neville Morlock was buried in the cemetery of Courage and not at the ranch. Rev. MacFarlane was doing the service, to which almost all of the town had come. It wasn't because they all loved him so. Neville had never sunk any money into the new settlement, something that many rich people did in other places. He didn't build streets or buildings for the common good. People still turned out.

  Jesse Bartleby and his men were also in attendance. The doors and windows of the small church stood open as it couldn't hold the crowd.

  After Neville was buried, Mina Morlock stood by the grave as the people came and offered their condolences.

  Jesse Bartleby's heart was slamming in his chest when it was his turn. He tried to clear his throat, but the scratch there wouldn't go away.

  "I'm sorry about what happened to your husband," he said to Mina.

  Mina wore an all-black dress. The shadow from her hat veiled her face. For a moment she didn't answer. Then she said, "You reap what you sow, Mr. Bartleby. My husband is no exception to that rule. We both know what kind of a man he was."

  Jesse marveled. This was not exactly the talk of a mourning widow.

  "Both you and I suffered on his hands, so let's not pretend that we will be missing him very much."

  Oh my, Jesse thought. This lady was definitely not a hypocrite.

  "I see what you're saying," Jesse said.

  Just then Mina lifted up her face and looked at him. There was no veil. Her eyes shone in the shadow of her hat's wide brim. She locked eyes with him again, just like she had done that night under the willow tree. On that day Jesse had looked away after a few seconds.

  Today he didn't.

  It was Mina who finally blinked. They shook hands. Jesse tipped his hat to her and walked away on wobbly legs.

  For two weeks after that the cowboy thought of Mina morning, noon and night. Her image came up while he was eating breakfast and also during lunch. Supper, too. She also was the last thing on his mind when he went to bed at night.

  When the fifteenth day rolled around, he couldn't stand it any longer. He called Pierre Beauregard.

  Pierre grinned from ear to ear when he heard that Jesse wanted him to ride over to the ranch with five of the men in order to deliver another letter to Mina Morlock.

  Pierre and the men washed and shaved and put on their best clothes. Then they took Jesse's letter and paid a visit to the ranch.

  Mamie sat in the sun on the veranda, knitting, when they rode into the courtyard. She rose from her rocking chair and came down the stairs to greet them.

  "How can I help you gentlemen?" she said.

  Pierre and the men dismounted and stood in a semi-circle around her. Without any ado he pulled Jesse's letter from the inside pocket of his vest and held it up.

  "Another letter?" Mamie raised her eyebrows theatrically.

  "Another letter," Pierre Beauregard confirmed with a nod. "From Mr. Jesse to Mrs. Mina. Personally."

  Mamie rolled her eyes. "What's it this time? He gonna make war on the ranch again?"

  The men chuckled.

  "Does this smell like a declaration of war to you?" Pierre asked. He handed her the letter for her to smell it.

  Mamie pinched the letter between two fingers and held it up to her nose. She inhaled with closed eyes.

  Jasmine.

  She opened her eyes and smiled. "Seems to me like Mr. Jesse don't want to burn the house down this time."

  "Not this time," Pierre said. "More like the opposite."

  "The opposite of war…" Mamie threw her head back and laughed. "Love!"

  At first the men stuck their tongues into their cheeks and glanced at one another bashfully. But when Mamie just kept on laughing, they laughed too.

  Mina Morlock sat in the library and was reading a book when Mamie entered and introduced Jesse's delegation. Her heart fluttered like a bird when Mamie handed her Jesse's letter.

  What could this be?

  A quick look at Jesse's men revealed that they were all in an exceedingly good mood. And Mamie was covering her mouth with her hands, stared at the floor and giggled.

  This was a very peculiar.

  Mina broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Perusing the lines, she stepped over to the window and stood in the broad sunlight. For a moment she read in silence.

  When the moment stretched into infinity, Mamie asked, "What is it, Mrs. Mina?"

  Her hand with Jesse's letter sank down. She looked at Mamie and the men. "He asks for my hand in marriage."

  Mamie and the men looked at her expectantly.

  "He wants me to become his wife."

  Mina's gaze wandered out the window. After a few moments she turned sharply and said to Jesse's men, "I'm afraid this won't do. Why, sending a letter like this to a woman is like ordering a bride through the mail. I'm afraid this is not good enough."

  Her remarks cast a wet blanket over Mamie and the men and tempered their exuberance.

  "Well, what do you want him to do, Mrs. Mina?" Pierre Beauregard said when he found his voice again. "He'd probably go and fetch the moon for you right now if you wanted him to."

  Mina put her hands to her hips. "I don't want the moon. Tell Mr. Bartleby that he cannot order me through the mail. If he has something to ask of me, he must come in person. Then I will tell him what I think of his proposition."

  For a few seconds Jesse's men stood, not sure what to do. Then Pierre answered her. "We'll go immediately and make your demands known to Mr. Bartleby," he said.

  He bowed briefly and when his men didn't catch on, he elbowed them left and right. They bowed, too, left quickly and filed out into the sunshine again.

  Mamie grinned knowingly and cast her mistress a knowing look. This woman had some pride. Yes sir! She demanded to be courted in person and not by a letter.

  Didn't Mr. Jesse know that?

  What had he been thinking?

  He was dealing with Mina Morlock, the queen of the prairie. The richest woman in Kansas. And the best one, too, in Mamie's eyes.

  The night had fallen. Countless cicadas were chirping in the grass outside. Mina lay on her bed in her room on the second floor. The door to her balcony was open to allow for some air as it was still hot.

  Brooding, Mina stared at the wall. Jesse Bartleby's men had come in the morning. Surely they'd gone home right away and had told Jesse what she'd said. She'd been waiting for him to call all day.

  But he hadn't come.

  Had she acted foolishly? Should she have simply accepted his written request to become his wife? Of course she wanted to marry him. She'd been smitten with him from the first moment that she'd seen him. And heard him. Now that she was free again to daydream, she'd spent her days thinking about Jesse Bartleby, his voice, his handsome face, his noble character. There was no man in the universe that she'd rather given her heart to. But she wanted to tell him that in person and not through messengers.

  Perhaps she had misunderstood Jesse Bartleby. Perhaps he wasn't such a noble person after all. Perhaps he was just as selfish as Neville Morlock had been and she just didn't know it. Hadn't he been willing to kill just the other day?

  No, no, no...

  She was thinking nonsense again. Deep down in her heart she knew that Jesse was an honorable man.

  She just wished he'd come calling.

  Just then she heard the soft strumming of a guitar right under her balcony. Excited, she sat up.

  Jesse?

  Sure enough, a moment later Jesse began to sing and his rich bass filled the air. He sang a love song that he'd composed just for her.

  Mina stood concealed by the open door to her balcony and listened. She'd never heard a sweeter melody in her life. This was a song just for her. Her parched soul was flooded with emotions of love and acceptance at his song.

  When he was finished, the guitar fell silent.

  Mina stood, waiting and wondering what would happen next.

  "Mina?" Jesse whispered. "Do you hear me?"

&n
bsp; Mina inhaled. "Yes, Jesse, I hear you."

  Her voice was unsteady. She hoped that he didn't notice how nervous she was.

  "Mina," Jesse said. "I'm aware that we only met twice. It is probably quite bold of me to come here and to sing to you like this. And I understand that life is not easy for you right now, being a widow and all. I probably shouldn't be here." He fell silent, having run out of ideas.

  "But you are here now," Mina said when she realized that he wouldn't go on.

  "Yes, ma'am. I'm here."

  A few moments passed. "Well, just ask your question," Mina finally said.

  Jesse cleared his throat. She heard him inhale. Then he said, "Mina, will you marry me?"

  Mina's face fell and she smiled with delight. She didn't answer right away. "Come up and find out."

  Whoops!

  Had she really just said what she thought she'd said?

  This was bold.

  Would he do it?

  What had she been thinking? A thousand thoughts careened through Mina's head. Was she that desperate for him?

  "I'd be more comfortable if we met down by the willow tree," Jesse said. His voice was shaky, too.

  He was right, of course.

  "I shall meet you there," she said.

  "Still tonight?" Jesse said.

  "In a few minutes I'll be with you," she replied.

  Jesse sat under the old willow tree, his guitar in his hands, and strummed a melancholy love song. He stopped when he heard a galloping horse draw near. Its rider drew rein and alighted quickly.

  Her eyes scanned the little grove. When she saw him, she rushed over to him.

  Then she stood in front of him, breathless and beautiful like the first woman God ever made.

  She sank into his arms, lifted her face to him and said, "Yes, Jesse. I want to become your wife."

  Without a word, the cowboy pulled her close with both hands and captured her lips with his own.

  The shadow of the willow hid the embrace of the two lovers. The moon's pale light flooded the copse of trees in which they stood, and the prairie and the ranch house and Jesse's camp in the west. A peculiar melody seemed to be resonating in all of them tonight. It was as if the whole world was singing to Mina and Jesse as they stood and confessed their love to one another.

 

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