It had been three days since Otis appeared on the ferry and Heather found out her husband wasn’t coming home. Two days since Sheriff Applebee took several men and two wagons to bring everyone home. Heather wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Dear Lord,” she prayed. “Please let the men return home soon.” When she was done praying, she reached for her leather Bible and pulled it close to her. Taking a sip of her milk she opened the worn pages to the book of Ruth. It was one of her favorite books in the Bible. Her mother would read it to Heather every Saturday night.
Heather loved the time spent with her mother reading about the strong Ruth who bravely followed her mother-in-law to a strange land. But it was the love between Boaz and Ruth that Heather loved to read about the most.
The book of Ruth started with a famine and then Naomi losing both her husband and sons, making her and her two daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah widows. Woven through the scriptures was a story of salvation that Heather could relate to. Ruth wasn’t born into a rich family. She didn’t marry into a rich family. She lost everything. She was starving and scared when she followed Naomi to Bethlehem. Perhaps that is what Heather admired most.
Even if Ruth didn’t know how she would survive, she kept her faith that somehow things would work out. She had hope.
Heather clung to the little bit of hope she had and began to read out loud.
“Now it came to pass in the days when the judges ruled, that there was a famine in the land.”
Heather closed her eyes and silently counted to five. When she opened them, he was still at the front of the church. She gave a little sigh and shifted on the hard bench.
Pastor Collins was pacing in front of the pews. He was dressed in his black frock with black knickers. His white stockings had mud splatters and his black shoes were large and clunky.
“Given that we must now accept that those brave men have certainly perished, I feel I must advise you. Not only as your pastor, but your dearest friend.”
Heather saw Millie lift a handkerchief to her nose. Her shoulders shook lightly, and Heather couldn’t tell if her dearest friend was laughing or crying. Her view was blocked as Pastor Collins moved in front of her. “Do you agree, Mrs. Barnes?”
Heather shook her head in agreement. “Of course,” she said. “What am I agreeing to?”
“Why that you must remarry. And quickly at that.”
Pastor Collins quickly strode to his pulpit and took down a piece of paper. “I have taken it upon myself to make a list of the eligible men in town. Granted there aren’t many, but I’m pleased to say that I have put myself at the top of the list. As a clergy, I realize that I will have to lead by example and take one of you for my wife.”
“What if we don’t desire to remarry?” Heather inquired.
“Why Mrs. Barnes, then you cannot remain in Last Chance.” Gasps went around the room. “It would be inappropriate for unmarried ladies to be here without any suitors or the possibility of marriage. Not to mention that having this many unmarried women would be too much of a temptation for any man.”
“We just lost our husbands,” Linda Applebee said.
“Yes. But you know it has been two weeks. The men aren’t returning.”
A second blizzard whipped through the town. This time it dumped four feet of heavy wet snow on the ground. Thankfully, it happened at night, so the only casualties were a few animals that were left outside.
“All the more reason, my dear. I have to say, I have my eye on several of you.” Pastor Collins gave a little chuckle. “Although I don’t want to cause any fighting, I will let you ladies come to me when the time is right.”
“Why don’t we place an ad?” Celia offered. “I know many of us came here as mail order brides. Why couldn’t we advertise for husband?”
“That sounds like a splendid idea,” Millie said. “I wonder how much it would cost to place an advertisement?”
“I believe it is free for women,” Celia replied.
“I can help write up something,” Linda offered.
“Ladies, ladies. Please understand this is not what I was intending.”
“Is the telegraph office still flooded?” Heather asked.
“The lines haven’t been restored,” Faith said, covering her face with her hands.
“Well then I recommend someone ride to Grand Platte and send it from there.”
“You should do it.” Everyone looked around to see Altar sitting alone knitting as everyone was talking. “I said, Heather should go.”
“Why me?”
“You know how to ride and shoot. Most of us can shoot, but not from the back of a horse. Your husband taught you that. Also, if you see any Indians, they respect your husband. You’d be the most logical choice to go.”
The women piped up in agreement. Heather felt she couldn’t refuse.
Within the hour she was saddled on a horse with the paper Linda had written folded up safely in her pocket.
Chapter Ten
October passed in the blink of an eye.
Heather was busy with the butcher shop and her patients. Cecily went along on all Heather’s appointments and was turning out to be quite the little helper. She carried Heather’s doctoring bag, as well as handed her anything she needed from within.
Lauren even allowed Cecily to listen to the baby. Heather watched the young girl’s eyes grow wide as she could hear the baby growing in Lauren’s belly. After the appointments, they would go to the butcher shop and Heather would teach Cecily how to stoke the fire and check the meat. Her favorite part, she said, was wrapping the finished meat in linen cloth. It was like putting it in a blanket. Heather laughed. The child wasn’t too far off.
She even caught Cecily wrapping Miss Poppet in a linen blanket and placing her among the smoked roasts.
In the evenings, Heather would teach Cecily to read from the primer as well as the King James Bible. There were so many children that were orphaned from the blizzard that Heather teared up every time she thought about it. She talked to Cecily and told the young girl that she always had a home with Heather. At some point she might even make it official, although she didn’t know the first thing about adoptions.
It appeared Autumn was truly in the air. The wind was crisp and cold as it came off the river. The sky was bright blue with fluffy white clouds floating by. Nothing like the storm clouds that brought tragedy to their small town. Heather had just dropped Cecily off at school and headed to the mercantile. She scanned the wooden board outside the store where the news of the day was posted. Someone had cut out the newspaper advertisement and placed it on the board.
Widowed in Nebraska by devastating snowstorm, respectable women seeking reputable men. Object Matrimony. Box 147, Last Chance Post Office
It had only been two weeks since they found their advertisement in the paper. The women were already restless waiting for responses. Heather just told them to be patient and avoid Pastor Collins at all costs. The man was on a mission to marry someone. The object of his affections appeared to change daily.
Heather was about to enter the store when she saw Pastor Collins coming her way at a brisk pace.
“Mrs. Barnes,” he called, waving his hand in the air. “Mrs. Barnes.”
Heather pretended she didn’t hear him and quickly headed towards the depot. The telegraph office was right next to it and she knew Pastor Collins wouldn’t go in there. Every time he spoke to Faith Thornton, she’d burst into tears and he would make a hasty retreat. Now he simply avoided Faith.
Heather picked up her pace, looking over her shoulder to see if Pastor Collins was following her when suddenly she hit a brick wall.
“Oomph,” she said as she staggered backwards. It wasn’t a brick wall at all. It was a cowboy that was all muscle, and a cocky grin as he looked at her.
“My apologies ma’am,” he said. “It appears I wasn’t looking where you were going.”
“Well you should pay better attention next time.” Heather scooted aroun
d him and headed into the telegraph office. The man followed her.
“Appears we are going to the same place,” he said.
Heather ignored the man as she leaned over the counter. “How are you doing today, Faith?”
“I still can’t believe he is gone.”
Heather reached over and rubbed Faith’s hand. “I know, honey. I was just checking to see if anything had arrived.”
“Nothing yet,” Faith said. The man cleared his throat. Faith’s eyes opened as if she just realized there was someone else in the shop. “May I help you?”
“I was just bringing the mail satchel,” he said pushing Heather aside so he could place the bag on the counter.
“That is rather large.”
“It has quite a bit of mail in there.”
Faith blinked a few times.
“Are you going to see what types of letters those are?” Heather asked.
“I – I -I just can’t.”
“My job is done here. I just needed to drop off the parcel. Might look around town for a bit. Ladies,” he said, tipping his hat and heading out the door.
“May I look?” Heather asked.
Faith nodded.
Heather opened the satchel and pulled out the letters. All of them were addressed to Box 147, Last Chance Nebraska. Her fears were staring, right in front of her. The letters were arriving. This meant that the woman would have to consider getting married now. Pastor Collins was adamant no unmarried woman would remain through the winter.
“I’ll let everyone know that the letters have arrived,” Heather said. She looked at her watch. “Why don’t we meet at the church at 4 o’clock tomorrow. We can go through the letters then.” Faith nodded, too consumed to speak. Heather patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry at all, Faith. You just need to bring those letters to church tomorrow.”
Heather looked around the room. It was packed with women that had received word the letter sack arrived. She had run into Celia, Altar and Linda on her way out of the telegraph office. The women promised to spread the word to everyone they saw to meet at the church.
Word did get around.
Most of the women were quietly crying as the enormity of the situation was pressed on them. Pastor Collins cleared his throat. “We should begin with a prayer.”
Heather listened as the Pastor made his pleas to oversee the selection of spouse. He reminded everyone that he, too, was an available choice and then he closed out with an amen.
The chorus of amens went around the room.
“How should we do this?” Celia asked.
Faith brought forth the bag and placed it on a table at the front of the church. Heather walked up and opened the bag, dumping the letters in a pile on the table.
“I don’t know the best way to do this. I wasn’t in my wildest dreams, expecting a response like this to the advertisement. Does anyone have any suggestions?” The women shook their heads. Heather cleared her throat. “Why don’t we line up then and we can each pick a letter. We’ll just take turns until all the letters are gone.”
The women nodded in agreement and started to move from the pews to the aisle in front of the table.
The women moved steadily taking a letter and then returning to the end of the line.
Claire Braden approached the table. Her eyes were red from crying. “I only want one,” she said picking up a letter from the table.
“You should get another,” Celia said.
“No,” Claire replied softly. “This one is just fine.” She took her letter and moved to the back of the church.
When the round was over, Heather took a letter, and the women began again. Finally, there were no more letters on the table.
“That’s it,” Heather said. She had six letters in her hand. Some women had seven, some women stopped at three. It was a lot to take in. She handed the empty mail sack to Celia as Faith was still too overcome with emotion to do anything.
The women started filing from the church. Heather gave Millie a little smile and went to get her wrap.
She needed to remember Ruth and even though she had lost everything, she wouldn’t lose her faith.
Her fingers lovingly traced the script on the letters. Most had bold handwriting, written in thick strokes. There was one, however, that had elegant script. Heather wondered if someone’s mother or sister had written the letter on a man’s behalf.
“We are going to the hotel. Mr. Martin offered for everyone to come and have coffee.”
Heather looked at Linda and the rest of the women headed towards the hotel. Some appeared tired and others even seemed excited at the prospect of a new life.
She looked at the letters in her hand and then up at the sky. It was full of white fluffy clouds moving across the bright blue sky. She pulled her shawl a little tighter around her and said a prayer over the letters in her hand and all the women that took a chance on trusting God with their futures.
When she was done, she whispered a slight amen. As she clutched the letters closer, she knew God would answer their prayers.
“Are you coming, slowpoke?” Millie called back to her.
“I’m coming,” Heather called as she stepped into the road and raced to catch up with the women walking ahead.
Author’s Note
The Three Blizzards
The Blizzard Brides is loosely based on three terrible blizzards that hit the mid-west in the 1870s/1880s, the Easter Blizzard (1873) and the Schoolhouse Blizzard (1888); as well as the Great Blizzard of 1888, which pummeled the East Coast.
Easter Sunday, April 13, 1873, began as a pleasant day in southeast Nebraska. But rain started that afternoon and temperatures dropped. During the night, the wind howled and by morning, 18 inches of heavy, wet snow had fallen. The storm raged for two more days, finally abating on Wednesday, April 17. Drifts as high as 20 feet had accumulated in some areas. Many people perished, including a woman with an infant that died just feet from her home, along with thousands of head of livestock.
Schoolhouse Blizzard, 1888
In January 1888, a massive cold air mass with a spread of over 780 miles, moved into the States from Canada. The temperature on the front end of the cold front in some places dropped from above freezing to -20°F in just hours. The storm was extremely fast moving, striking Montana in the early morning hours of January 12, swept through Dakota Territory and was in Nebraska by mid-afternoon of that same day. Because of the warm spell preceding the storm and the swiftness with which it moved, many people were caught off-guard. The strong winds and powdery snow made for zero visibility in many areas. That, combined with bitter cold temperatures and high winds, resulted in a death toll of 235.
One of the worst blizzards in U.S. History happened in March of 1888. In fact, it's referred to as "The Great Blizzard". Snow pounded the east coast from March 12-14, dropping 20-60 inches of snow in New Jersey, New York, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. Sustained winds of 45 mph created snowdrifts more than 50 feet high. If the snow wasn't bad enough, a record low temperature for March of 6° F was recorded during the blizzard. More than 400 people lost their lives.
-- Contributed by Laura Ashwood
https://sweetamericanasweethearts.blogspot.com/2020/10/deadly-blizzards-by-laura-ashwood.html
Negro Spirituals
In this story I have Altar sing two songs at the schoolhouse while they were waiting for the storm to pass.
Oh! Let My People Go: The Song of the Contrabands, was also known as Go Down Moses. The first publication of the song was arranged by Horace Waters, a prominent name in piano sales and sheet music at the time.
Mr. L.C. Lockwood, chaplain of the Contrabands, stated in the sheet music that the song was from Virginia, dating from about 1853. A second source refutes that and says the song “Go Down Moses” is believed to have been written around 1800 by slaves inspired by the biblical story of the Jews' liberation from slavery in Egypt
The second song is Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, which, it is
estimated, was published by Wallace and Minerva Willis when they were working at a school for Native American boys in Oklahoma's Indian Territory. It is said that the song was inspired by Mr. Willis’s time working along the Red River, which reminded him of the Jordan River and of the Prophet Elijah's being taken to heaven by a chariot (2 Kings 2:11). The headmaster of the school wrote down Mr. Willis’s words and the melody and then sent it to Nashville, where it was subsequently recorded.
https://www.wbur.org/hereandnow/2019/04/19/passover-go-down-moses
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Go_Down_Moses
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swing_Low,_Sweet_Chariot
https://usatoday30.usatoday.com/printedition/life/20060815/d_sweetchariot.art.htm
The story continues in The Blizzard Bride Series. Find out about all the characters in town and how they find love in the town of Last Chance, Nebraska
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A Groom For Claire
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The Blizzard Bride Authors
Christine Sterling
Cat Cahill
Heather Blanton
Laura Ashwood
Lynn Donovan
Marianne Spitzer
The Blizzard Brides Page 6