by Rita Hestand
"Yes."
He stopped everything he was doing to look at her. "And you only have three men."
"Well, we had four of course, but he took sick."
"Where are your wagons?" He asked.
"On the prairie. So, will you take us to California?" She asked boldly now.
"What does it pay?"
"We're equipped to pay you $1000 for the trip, $1500 if you get us there in one piece and without losing anyone." She told him.
He perked up then and started paying attention. "When did you want to head out?"
"As soon as we can."
"Give me another day to prepare. Are you well stocked and got plenty of supplies?"
"Mostly yes. I've picked up a few things today that we might need."
"Got plenty of rope, ammunition and bear grease for the wheels. Tools to fix the wheels and such?"
"I believe so, yes. Mr. Cully, if I may. You have to understand you can't drink on the wagon train."
He hadn't expected that, but then eyeing her closely, he realized it was in line with her kind of lady. After all, she was dressed nicely, and her hair was done up fancy on her head. She was a right handsome woman. He stopped everything and stared at her hard. His expression wasn't anger, just surprise. "I can't?"
"You can't what?" She asked, exasperated at the man who was obviously nursing a hangover.
"Drink?" He smiled, as though teasing her. "Mail order brides. Who you gonna marry, those dirty miners?" He burst out before thinking.
"Well actually, yes, that is our plan. Look, I'm sorry about the liquor, but you've got to understand, we're mostly women and drinking and women don't mix well on a long trip like this. We are, after all, brides to be."
He nodded, but his expression went sour. "Alright, Miss Abby," He pronounced her name sarcastically. "No drinkin'. That's been established."
"Thank you, I appreciate that you aren't arguing the point. So…when can we expect you?"
He looked at her again, this time with a sober face. She was beautiful, he wasn't sure why he hadn't seen that at first glance, but it could have been the hangover and the cloud hanging over his eyes. He sighted, resigned to the fact that he might be taking these…women to California.
"Day after tomorrow, we'll start out. And you might as well know, to lighten your wagons of things that aren't necessary. Better now than then. Big eight-hour clocks, fancy furniture, the things you hold so dear to your heart. Be sure and check your wheels and tool supplies, if there is anything I need to pick up, come tell me."
"Our other wagon master left them for us, I think we are well equipped, we haven't come far enough to use any of the supplies."
"Good. Alright then ma'am. Where's the train?"
"About ten miles out on the northwest road." She informed him.
"I'll meet you day after tomorrow early on the road and we'll get started." He told her.
"Are you a well-seasoned wagon master?" She asked. "I mean, you look much younger than the other two men I talked to about it. Have you even been to California?"
"Other two men?" He twisted his head and watched her again. His eyes went all over her, and she couldn't stop the slight blush to her cheeks.
"Yes, Mr. Barker and Mr. Harper."
"Oh, so you already asked them, did you?"
"Of course, I asked for the best."
"I see. And I'm what's left of the best, I take it!" He didn't bother hiding his sarcasm.
"Yes, you are. So, tell me sir, do you know the way and the troubles we might run into."
He frowned at her then slowly began to size her up for what she was. After all, she was asking the right questions. "Yes ma'am. I've taken probably a half-dozen trains to Oregon, and two to California. I was an army scout before that, so I know to look for Indians and such. I think you can safely say I'm experienced. Of course, I never had a wagon load of women…"
"We're hardy women, Mr. Cully. We know this trip won't be easy, and we are ready to work hard, and anything else that is necessary. Most of us came straight off farms that had to be taken care of every day, so we know what hard work is. We aren't afraid of work, Mr. Cully."
"Can you shoot?" He asked, not looking at her as he slid into his shirt and buttoned it.
"Some of us have handled rifles before or shotguns."
"Very well then, see you day after tomorrow." He nodded, wiping his face with his hand.
She nodded, gave him another glance and headed for the door.
"Will you be—ready by then?" She stared at him now.
He stopped everything and shook his head for a moment. "You mean sober?"
"Yes." She wasn't offended.
"Yeah, I will." He affirmed. "I don't seem to shock you much, do I Miss?"
"No, you don't." she answered. "Mr. Barker was a sharp-tongued slap in the face, Mr. Harper was quite busy when I busted in on him, so you sir, do not shock me. I don't care what you do on your off time, it's a job I'm offering you, and I will expect you to do it to the best of your ability."
His mouth hung open.
"One other thing I should mention, you are young and rather good looking, so I feel obligated to tell you." Abigail glanced over her shoulder.
"Tell me what?" He asked standing up and coming toward her.
"These women are going to the California gold fields to marry, they are totally off limits to the men on the train, is that understood?" She stared at him now.
A grin broke over his face and he shook his head as though he couldn't quite put her together. "Well then, I guess that's telling me, isn't it? You sure are blunt enough."
"I like to be upfront with people." She didn't back down. "And I too have been faced with bluntness all morning, Mr. Cully. By now, I'm getting used to it."
He liked her spit-fire and almost grinned.
He firmed his lips and moved away from her, "I have no interests in female gold diggers, miss."
Her jaw dropped, and she looked very indignant.
"Well I never…"
As she walked out the door, he chuckled softly, "No…you probably haven't…" He murmured as he considered what he got himself into.
Aside from his insulting manner, he seemed quite capable of leading a wagon train. He was a bit rough around the edges, but she realized she couldn't just pick and choose who she wanted for the job. She wondered why she had such an urge to be so up front with him. But she'd set the ground rules and he'd abide. Satisfied that she had taken care of finding a wagon master, she found Rebecca waiting for her outside the hotel, they returned to the wagons that afternoon.
"You've found one?"
"I have."
"Well, what's he like, old and wrinkled, or young and good looking?"
Abigail eyed Rebecca, "I thought you had eyes for that Johnny character?"
Rebecca frowned and then smiled. "I do, of course, but, I was just curious."
"He's young, and very good looking," she paused to think on it. "Especially when he smiles."
Rebecca giggled, "Oh, well, you noticed."
"He's nursing a hangover right now, so it's hard to tell. Oh, wait a minute." Abby paused to get Bertha's attention. "Excuse me, but I thought I'd mention that dog in there, he looks pretty hungry and thirsty. Can you see he's fed?"
Bertha smiled at her, "Why sure, Miss. It's nice of you to notice."
"Well, I like animals." Abby said with a smile.
Rebecca smiled brightly as they were leaving. "So, he's cute, and you like his dog."
"Well, I just felt kind of sorry for the dog, that's all. And, granted the man is nice looking but he was drunk Rebecca. I certainly don't want anything to do with a drunk."
"Not all men are drunks that drink, Abby."
"Perhaps…"
"Uh huh." Rebecca chuckled and grabbed her arm as they walked out into the bright sunshine.
Chapter Two
"Mail Order Brides," Cully shook his head with a smirk on his face. "More like gold digging females, if you ask me." H
e chortled. "But by golly she was pretty." He smiled to himself. "A waste, a real waste, that's what it is."
He'd sized Miss Abigail Ashford up fast. Despite her beauty, she was rather independent, and not shy of telling him off. But he could drown in those chocolate brown eyes of hers and he wondered what that dark head of hair would look like let loose on her shoulders. He had to get her out of his head. She wasn't for him, no sir! She was little, but she packed a punch. Too bad she was spoken for. She was full of spit and fire, and he liked women like that. Still, he had no use for a woman, he'd get whatever he needed over at the saloon, and maybe tonight before he set off with all those women, he decided. It wouldn't do to be randy around women like that.
No, he wanted no part of a gold digging woman. Even though she was nothing short of a gold digger, in some strange way, that disappointed him. He couldn't figure himself out, much less her.
Still, it was a job, and right now he needed the money. He slipped his shirt on and went out to the dining room.
Funny, his disarray this morning didn't shock Miss Abigail. He liked that. She hadn't shrieked with modesty or even acted surprised. Maybe she was made of tougher metal than he thought. He was sure before the trip was over, he'd find out.
"Bertha you got any of that chicken fried steak left?" Cully asked, sniffing about the kitchen, noting that everyone was gone now, and it seemed almost indecent to ask for food at this time of day.
Bertha came out of the kitchen and stared at him. "Got a couple left, some potatoes, gravy and one corn on the cob, you want it?" Bertha asked eyeing him.
"Sure, I do."
"So, did the lady talk to you?" Bertha asked as she dished him up some food for him and eyed him closely.
"Miss Abigail Ashford," he repeated the name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Yeah, I talked with her." Cully grumbled, sipping the hot coffee, Bertha had brought him.
"And?"
"And it looks as though I got a job, Bertha."
"Good, just what you been needing. Where you headed?"
Cully shook his head and chuckled, "You won't believe it. They are headed for California gold fields."
"Gold fields. They plannin' on panning for gold?" Bertha asked, her brows going upward with shock.
"No, marrying it." Cully answered.
"M-marrying it." Bertha pushed an offending strip of her hair behind her ear.
"They are mail order brides; can you believe it? And they are going to marry those sorry excuse for men, the gold panners out there. Can you believe that. They are in for a real shock I can tell you, once they get a load of what those men look like working in the gold fields so long. Dirty, ugly mouthed, and rank men."
"Oh, those poor little dears!" Bertha shook her head and glanced at Cully with worry.
"Poor little dears?" Cully looked incredulous at her.
"They're trying to marry themselves to money, Bertha. Don't bother feeling sorry for them. They obviously aren't a bunch of sweet bible totters. At least those kinds of women I could understand. But I gotta admit that Miss Ashford is full of spit and fire."
"That sweet little thing that was in here this morning? I don't believe it. Why she even suggested I feed and water Slug. Now, how many women would care? Besides, there are circumstances that would drive women to seek men of money. There's nothing wrong with a woman thinking of her future, Cully."
"Thinking of their future is one thing. Wanting to get rich quick isn't. Drive them to it? Men of money? Are you kidding me? Men trying to get rich quick, digging for gold, and women willing to marry them, sight unseen for the same opportunity? Maybe they deserve each other."
"There could be reasons for such actions, Cully."
"Maybe so, Bertha. But, it's no never mind to me."
"B-but you can't take them out there…." Bertha protested her voice going up a notch.
"Why not, that's where they want to go." Cully argued. He wiped his mouth and sipped his coffee. "If I don't take them, someone else will."
"It's not decent. Those men, those miners or whatever you would call them, they aren't gentlemen. They must be warned of what they are getting themselves into." Bertha fretted.
Cully studied Bertha a moment, knowing what a sweet person she was, he hated to burst her bubble, as she always thought the best of people. Secretly, Cully admired her for that trait too. He loved Bertha like the mother she had been to him.
Bertha flopped into the chair beside him and wiped her brow as she'd been cooking most the morning. "They have no idea what they are letting themselves in for."
Cully was halfway done with his steak when he paused and looked at her. "They are after money, Bertha. They ought to have better sense."
Bertha shot him a quick frown. "I'm telling you there is a reason a woman like that would consider such a thing."
Cully leaned back on his chair and studied Bertha a moment. She tended to cater to young women.
"There is no harm in a girl wanting to be financially secure, but they have no idea what they are in for. You must warn them. How could they possibly know what they are getting into?"
"Warn them? Well, I don't feel pity for them. You know the town comes down on the dance hall girls here, but those women…they are worse."
"What do you mean?" Bertha protested. "How can you say such a thing?"
"All they want is money, and they are practically selling themselves to get it. What's the difference?"
"That's unfair! Everyone has a story, Cully." Bertha kept defending them. "Cully, you are a good scout, a good guide, and maybe one day you'll be a great wagon master, but you don't know much about women."
"I don't need to. The last thing I need is a wife. And I don't plan on learning about them either! Do you have any idea what they are in for?" Cully stared at the sweet little lady that he'd known forever. Bertha had taken him in long ago, when he wandered into her place at the age of ten, an orphan with no place to go. Bertha gave him a home, gave him chores, and taught him right from wrong. He owed her.
"Well….no…. not exactly. I've never been to California."
"I'll tell you what. They are going out there, to marry these men that are digging for gold. Men that will take that gold, what little they do find and gamble and drink it away before they ever go home. And they'll get up the next day and do it all over again. They won't get rich, maybe a handful out of a hundred or so will. The rest will live in squalor waiting for the big break. And the women, they have no idea what they are like. Dirty, bad-mouthed heathens. I've seen them for myself, Bertha, I know what I'm talking about. A gold field is the last place those women need to be. Especially those kinds of women."
"Your understandingly prejudice, I know that. And what kind of life would that be?" Bertha raised another brow at him.
"Well, I assume, if they are anything like Miss Abigail Ashford, they look like ladies, but deep down, I'm not so sure what they are."
"That's unkind of you to talk like that Cully. I thought I taught you better." Bertha admonished him, picking up her handkerchief and wiping her forehead.
"Maybe so, but it's the truth, Bertha. I've seen those men and how they do. My own father was a miner. He left my Ma, for the big break. I was barely walking when he left. That big break, it never came, and he came home with his tail between his legs several years later, begging her forgiveness. And for some reason, she took him back. Of course, by then, she was sick out of her head."
"She obviously loved him, Cully." Bertha smiled sadly at him.
"If that's love, I want no part of it. Look, they live in nothing more than a mine shack, that's dirty because they are never home. They work hard all day, gamble half the night and come home drunk. And the women will grow old fast out there. I hate to see it, but it's of their own choosing. If they weren't so money hungry, they might find a decent man and have a good life." Cully told her, wiping his mouth and turning in his chair so he could see Bertha. "Don't look at me like that, Bertha, I couldn't stop them, even if I wanted
to."
"But you know. You could try to warn them. Obviously, they haven't a clue as to what they might be getting into."
"No Bertha, that's not my job. My job is to get them there. Nothing more, nothing less. And I will get them there. But I refuse to get involved in what they are doing. Besides, they wouldn't appreciate me telling them that."
Bertha shot him a quick glance.
"I hate to think it…. I'm sure they have hopes and dreams like any other women."
"Well, it's of their own doing. What kind of woman would get on a wagon train bent for trouble?"
"The kind that doesn't know there is trouble. The kind that has no choice in the matter. Family troubles or lack of family could drive them to do this. You don't realize it Cully, but women, unlike men, can't find decent jobs when they are turned out by family, or have none to begin with. They may be desperate. You were lucky Cully. You found me, in time. But these women, they just have no clue…and believe me, women don't have a lot of choices like men do."
"Exactly, they should have found out beforehand. The men won't know what to do with them and the men will be pigs, just like they are about the gold."
"Cully, I want you to promise me, you'll try to make them see the truth of it."
"Okay, say I do, then what? We suppose to turn around and come home, if they have enough gumption to listen to me, that is?" Cully asked a bit putout that Bertha didn't see it his way.
Slug finished his meal and came in to the dining room to lie down by Cully.
"That dog sure loves you, Cully." Bertha laughed.
"We're good together."
"You need a woman."
"Oh, now Bertha," Cully frowned, wiped his mouth and started to get up from the table.
"Isn't there somewhere else they could go, somewhere that men, decent men might be found?" Bertha asked.
"I have no idea." Cully shook his head. "Look this is all their doing, not mine. I want no part of it." Cully insisted, already feeling a guilt, he knew he shouldn't. "The only hope they have is maybe some of them will find soldiers at the forts to marry and forget this fool idea."
"If they ask you, would you tell them the truth?"