by Vivi Holt
“I don’t know, darling. Let’s just wait and see. From what I understand, Mr. Sawyer lives outside of town, but he may not have room for a pony.”
Heather frowned and flung her braid back between her shoulder blades.
“Let’s go.” Holly gently nudged the children toward the train’s open doors.
Outside, she lifted her gloved hand to shield her eyes. The town was dirty and busy and the smell of dust, manure and livestock assailed her nostrils. Large yards holding hundreds of milling cattle lay to the east, and their baying acted as a backdrop to the noise of the train, wagons and pedestrians. She glanced around the station, watching passengers leave the train, locate their luggage and make their way off the platform. How would she recognize Kurt Sawyer? Would he even be here to meet them?
“Ma, what now?”
“I’m hungry!”
“Where are we going?”
“It smells. Are we gonna ride a horse to our new house?”
“Do I get a gun like those men, Ma?” That was Tripp, staring in excitement as he pointed to a pair of cowboys riding by the station, ten-gallon hats pulled low over their eyes and holstered pistols displayed on their hips.
“Heavens, no!” said Holly. “We’ll eat soon – just stay close to me, children.” She hurried them over to where the station master was taking stock of the remaining luggage on the platform.
He pulled his cap from his head to scratch it, mussing his thinning hair. “One of these yours, Ma’am?”
She nodded. “We should have four trunks and a carpetbag. There they are … that one and those over there – those are ours. Thank you.”
The station master pushed and pulled until all their luggage was neatly piled together, then ambled off to speak with a young man. Holly pulled her handkerchief from her skirt pocket and wiped her damp forehead beneath the straw hat. It was hotter than she’d expected for autumn, and that and her anxiety had left her bathed in sweat. Her heart pounded and her head buzzed with worried thoughts, hopes, plans, fears.
Above it all, the voice of the man speaking to the station master cut through. “… waiting for a woman. She has children with her … her name’s Holly …”
Holly’s heart leaped into her throat. The man looked so young. He wore an all-black suit with a white button-down shirt, and held a black Stetson in one hand. His dark blonde hair was neatly combed to one side, a stray strand falling across his face. He had chiseled cheeks and an earnest look that was immediately endearing.
She took a quick breath. “Stay here, children.” She walked briskly toward him, her face burning. “Mr. Sawyer?” she asked, interrupting his discussion with the station master.
He glanced at her and his blue eyes darkened.
Nothing for it. She lifted her chin. “I’m Holly Bristol. Pleased to meet you.”
Kurt wiped his sleeve across his brow and took a slow breath, but couldn’t get his heart to slow or his mind to work. His thoughts had fled in the face of the beautiful woman on the platform. He should say something, try to set her at ease. She looked calm enough, but she must be feeling anxious given the situation. “Did you have a pleasant journey?” he finally managed?
“Yes, thank you,” she replied. “We’re ready to go if you are, though the children are hungry.”
He looked behind her and spotted the five little ones huddled together by a pile of trunks. “I’ll see what I can do about that,” he said, trying to act nonchalant. He walked over, nodded to the children, lifted one of the trunks with a grunt and headed for the wagon. The children followed him, like a string of ducklings.
Sam and Sal waited patiently in front of the wagon, tails swishing and ears flicking back and forth as Kurt caught snippets of conversation between Holly and the children. She was older than he was, but stunning in a way he’d never imagined. With soft curves beneath a well-tailored gown, large blue eyes, silky golden hair and a wide smile, she caught the attention of every man passing by. And he hadn’t been able to catch his breath since he met her.
Still, five children! Five extra mouths to feed! He felt a band tighten around his chest. Well, he’d just have to find a way.
“Where in town is your business?” she asked.
He frowned. What was she referring to? “My … business?”
“Your advertisement said you were a successful landowner. I assumed you had some kind of business.” She watched him carefully, clasping tightly to her carpetbag.
He squinted, his head spinning. He wished, not for the first time, that he’d written that blasted advertisement himself. What had Angus done? “Well, I … actually, I’m a rancher. Or rather, a farmer working to become a rancher. It is a business – I’m in the business of raising horses, a few cattle, some crops. I’ve got a property just a mile outside of town. We’ll head out there today after our, um, wedding.”
Her face fell and she bit her lower lip.
“Does that mean I’ll get a pony?” asked one of the girls.
He would have to make a point of learning their names. “Maybe,” he answered, throwing the carpetbag into the back of the wagon. “Now, everyone in.”
The children all obediently climbed into the wagon bed, and he helped Holly up to the bench seat. The wagon was packed to the brim, and he swallowed hard at the sight. His life was about to change in every possible way, all at once.
Holly sat quietly beside him as he drove the wagon down Lawrence. The church was at Lawrence and First streets, on their way to the ranch. They’d stop in there, get married in front of the preacher and his wife, be on their way and arrive at the ranch in time for evening chores.
Kurt swallowed again. He hoped there were no more surprises.
Holly waited patiently in Rev. Martin’s chambers at First Presbyterian. His wife Agatha stood with her, her hands folded in front of her simple dress, a warm smile on her face. “It’s so nice to meet another woman my age,” she said.
“A pleasure to meet you as well,” Holly said absently. She couldn’t think straight – she was about to pledge herself, her life and children to a man she’d just met. Conversation seemed impossible. She dabbed the sweat from her brow with her sleeve.
“I’m sure you’re gonna love the Sawyer ranch,” Agatha went on. “My husband says it’s as close to Heaven as you can get around here – beautiful pastures, clean water in the creek, shade trees galore. You’re a lucky lady.”
Holly nodded.
Kurt and Rev. Joe Martin opened the door and walked in. Holly’s children were all seated on chairs or the floor against the wall. They whispered and wriggled in place, but were otherwise behaving themselves admirably. She frowned – they must be hungry. She’d have to ask Kurt if they could find something to eat as soon as they were done here.
Her mind returned to her first wedding. It was held at the courthouse in New York. She’d worn a beautiful white gown with a long train. Charles had donned a top hat and a sleek black suit perfectly fitted to his slim form. He looked so dashing, so handsome, and she’d been overcome with the emotion of it all. She’d insisted they dress up, even if they weren’t in a church in front of family and friends. And he’d gone along with her plan, just as he always did. She’d had to discretely dab at her eyes and nose throughout the ceremony to keep from leaking everywhere. It was beautiful. Even the fact that they’d done it alone, couldn’t temper their excitement or their love for one another.
She’d been proud to become Mrs. Charles Bristol, having never thought she’d get the chance to marry a man like him. Never thought she’d become part of society, not after being raised by absent, drunken parents in the Appalachians. But she’d done it – married a Bristol and entered society (much to society’s initial dismay). After years of parties, picnics and events, they’d finally offered her a grudging respect. Children had come, one after the other. And they’d been so in love. So blessed.
She knew she’d never have that again.
“Do you take this man to be your lawful husband?” ask
ed Rev. Martin.
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yes,” she whispered.
Within minutes, they were husband and wife. Holly let her eyes travel up the face of the man she’d just joined her life to. He watched her as if trying to read her thoughts. She managed a smile and braced herself as he leaned down to kiss her. Why did it seem so strange to be kissed by another man – almost as if she was cheating on Charles? But Charles was dead. He’d never be back. Still, she let her eyes drift shut as Kurt’s lips met hers.
When she opened them again, his face hovered over hers. Was that concern she saw? Perhaps he was a good man. She hoped so, for her children’s sake.
“We’d best get going,” he said. “I need to get back to the ranch in time for chores.”
She nodded in acknowledgement, took his arm and together they walked out of the church, the children following quietly behind.
The steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the road soothed Holly’s nerves. She sat, straight-backed, on the hard wooden bench up front. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the children were absorbed with their surroundings. They’d never spent much time in the country, and the chirruping meadowlarks, burrowing gophers and a herd of deer that startled and disappeared over a rise into the prairie grasses with a flash of white tails had them all looking goggle-eyed in every direction.
“So this isn’t your first time being married?”
His question startled her. “That’s right. The children’s father, Charles Bristol, died last winter. We’ve been living with my sister Eve and her family ever since.” She didn’t want any secrets between them. Best to get everything out in the open right away as far as she was concerned. If he had questions, she’d answer them as best she could. She had plenty of questions of her own.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured, adjusting the reins in his hands.
“Thank you. It was a shock, truth be told, but we’re praying for a better future.” She studied him. Tanned hands and face, muscular forearms beneath rolled-up sleeves. He had an easy, casual manner about him, and so far seemed quiet and steady enough, though time would tell. One thing she knew after years of experience on the subject was that men weren’t often who they seemed to be. It took time to discover who they truly were beneath the surface.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking … if you had a place to stay with your sister, why did you leave New York?” He turned to watch for her response.
She blushed beneath his gaze. There was something in his eyes that made her heart race. “Her husband gave us notice. He wasn’t keen on having five children not his own in his home.”
He grunted and pursed his lips.
What was he thinking? She’d been nervous about their meeting, since she hadn’t told him about her children until after he sent her that ticket. She wondered how he felt about it – was the grunt one of discontent? Well, neither of them had been entirely forthcoming – “landowner” was a long way from “farmer.”
And if she had told him she had five little ones, he’d likely have telegraphed that she shouldn’t come. Most men would’ve. In fact, she’d been a little concerned he might turn her away at the station. But he hardly seemed to miss a beat when he saw them – she’d willingly give him credit for that.
It was too late for all that anyway – they were married. She was glad it had been in front of a preacher. From what she’d heard that wasn’t always a possibility for a mail-order bride. She knew she couldn’t have stomached the idea of moving in with a man she wasn’t married to, but when it came down to it, she’d always put her children’s welfare first.
“Thank you for lunch,” she said. When she’d asked him about food after the ceremony, he’d pulled a picnic basket he’d packed that morning out from beneath the wagon seat. He parked the wagon under the shade of a cottonwood tree at the edge of town and spread the food out on a blanket. And she’d noted that though there hadn’t been enough to go around, he’d gone without, quietly handing sandwiches to each child and herself before sitting back against the wide trunk of the old tree to watch them eat.
“You’re welcome.”
“What will we do for food on the ranch?” she asked. She had no experience on that subject. As a child, she’d had to scavenge for food where she could. Then when she’d married Charles, they had accounts at every store she needed supplies from.
“I have a garden out back. It’s still small, though I was hoping you might get it going to where we have enough vegetables for the year and for canning and such. I’ll hunt for fresh meat. There are plenty of berry thickets and wild apple trees around. Come fall we’ll have beef to eat – at least that’s the plan. My brother Angus will keep us supplied with flour and cornmeal and oatmeal. And I have a milk cow. Can you make cheese?”
She nodded. She’d never done it, but she’d seen it done and it didn’t seem difficult.
“Anything else we need, I can charge for breeding horses, or trap furs and trade at a general store in town. Just let me know and I’ll add it to the order when I go.”
She chewed her lower lip. It sounded like there was plenty of food – she only hoped it would be enough. Five growing children could eat one out of house and home in no time.
“What about your parents?” he asked suddenly.
“Pardon me?”
“Your parents. Couldn’t they take you in?”
Was he trying to be rid of her already? “They’re dead, I’m afraid.” She hoped he didn’t ask how.
He didn’t. “I’m sorry. Sounds like you’ve had plenty of hardships.”
She gave a curt nod. “God gives me the strength to endure it.”
“Sure enough.” He nodded too, frowning.
She decided to change the subject. The sad story of her life always set people to pitying her, and she hated that – it made her chest ache. “What about you? You were from Mount Vernon originally – why did you leave?”
He cleared his throat and pushed his hat further back on his head. “My brother Angus came out here first. He’s the real businessman in the family – he owns the Wichita Western Mill on the opposite end of town.” He cleared his throat, as if that was a sore subject. “He said I should come, so I did. My parents weren’t thrilled, but I yearned for adventure. And I’ve always wanted a ranch.” He chuckled, as though to a private joke.
“Oh.”
He coughed. “Just to get things out in the clear … my brother wrote the advertisement. I never actually saw it, as I spend most my time on the ranch. It’s new, you see, and it takes a lot to get things going. He suggested the idea of writing away for a bride. I went along with it because I trust his judgment. I didn’t know he’d call me a ‘landowner,’ though – that’s a bit high-hat for what I’m doing. Sorry about that.”
Holly’s mind whirled. It made sense, she supposed. Perhaps he’d never meant to mislead her, any more than she had him. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt – after all, he was her husband now. And he didn’t seem the lying type. “All’s well that ends well,” she said, smoothing her skirts.
He glanced at her, curiosity filling his bright blue eyes. Then he nodded, once, in acknowledgement of her forgiveness.
5
The sun made its way toward the horizon, a line broken only by the occasional tree or sloping rise. Kansas was flat, filled with wide-open plains of waving grasses. It was beautiful in a wild kind of way, and Holly began to relax as she watched the light turn gold and orange, tinting the lazy prairies. The road turned into a trail, then wagon tracks, brown lines in the grass.
Soon, she saw a structure, dark against the plains. Kurt had been silent for so long, his voice almost made her jump. “There’s home, such as it is.”
She smiled. Home. It’d been months since she truly had a home. But what would this one be like? The setting sun made the entire place look quaint, as if drawn from a fairytale. As they drew closer, she saw a large barn behind the house. It was bigger than the
house itself, a cottage really, with two square windows out front and a solid door made from planks. In the fenced yard beside the barn, a cow lifted her head to watch their approach. A small herd of cattle grazed in the distance. A dog ran out, barking to greet them, its tail wagging.
The children had grown used to the journey, and began to chatter excitedly over the prospect of finally arriving at their destination. To a child, she supposed a ranch in Kansas might be a great adventure. But she worried it might turn into a set of shackles she hadn’t anticipated, slapped on her ankles while she was looking the other way. She shook the feeling away, determined to find the best in the situation.
When the wagon stopped in front of the house, the children piled out, laughing and petting the dog, who leaped around with glee. Kurt chuckled and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “This is Badger, on account of looking like one. He’s friendly, as you can see – not much of a guard dog, but good with the livestock.”
Holly smiled and reached down to caress the dog’s smooth head. Badger’s ears lay back against his head and he sat beside her, lapping up the attention.
“Everyone, go in and make yourself at home. I’ll unload and get the horses settled in the barn.”
Holly took a slow breath. “Come on, children. Let’s go inside.” They rushed ahead of her, barreling through the door. She followed more slowly, taking in everything as she went.
It was a sturdy structure, small but well-built. The first room held two chairs, a modest table and a cast-iron stove with a chimney. Another table near the far wall held several bowls and plates, jugs and cans – likely what passed for a kitchen. But it was cozy and tidy, and though she’d grown accustomed to a luxurious life as Mrs. Charles Bristol, she’d previously been acquainted with poverty. This didn’t look like the poverty she knew – this was a home.
It was dark inside. She found a lantern on the kitchen table, a box of matches beside it. She struck one, lit the lantern and carried it with her into the second room – the bedroom, where a single bed stood against one wall. She pursed her lips. One bed. Seven people. And there was no third room. How would they work this out, especially on their wedding night?