Authors: Michelle Woodward
THE END
“Oak Ridge, Colorado Territory. Next stop, ladies and gentleman, is Oak Ridge, Colorado Territory.”
Louisa Forest awoke, startled by the sound of the conductor’s voice as he walked through the rattling car. It had been a small miracle that she’d slept at all; the three day trip from Baltimore that had begun with so much hope had become increasingly exhausting as she found the shaking movements kept her awake through the empty plains of Iowa and Nebraska. It was all so disorienting as well. She had grown accustomed to city life, with its close quarters and settled horizon. There were always people around that she had known for her entire life. But as the train had shuttled across the country, everything familiar had fallen away beyond the Appalachians.
She looked down at her rumpled travel clothes with some distress. The pretty blue dress had gathered a fair share of dust from the travels, despite the pleasantly ornate Pullman car. Her beau had purchased her a good ticket, and for that she was grateful. However, as the days had wound onward, the soot that blew back from the engine had seemingly gotten into everything. She wasn’t sure how she was to maintain any mystery and attractiveness in such an environment.
Louisa pulled a hand mirror from her bag. She noticed she wasn’t the only one doing so; it seemed a few other unaccompanied women had the same destination on their ticket. She wasn’t surprised. It had been her friend Rebecca who had suggested she put a correspondence ad in the magazine, in hopes of finding a worthwhile man in the West. None of her suitors in Baltimore had been worthwhile, mostly gamblers and drinkers. Not that the same couldn’t be said in unsettled parts of the country, naturally, and Louisa had no illusions that life would be perfect or even better here.
However, she did have hope. There were good reasons to leave Maryland, as she recalled them. Rebecca had been just about the only one still talking to her after she and her family had supported the Union. When she had been a young teen, there had been at least one night of pure terror when a small mob had demanded her father come out and face them. Windows had been smashed, the police had turned out to just in time to chase the rioters away from burning down her tenement.
The friendly, neighborhood faces that she had known all her life, the butcher, the newspaper seller, the neighbors, had one by one gone cold as they associated the Forests with the “tyrant” Lincoln. Maryland had stayed loyal to the cause, but some parts of the state such as Baltimore were firmly set in Confederate sympathies. Only a handful of like-minded or forgiving neighbors had taken the Forest’s part when their son Donald had signed up to join the Union cause. When Donald returned in a box from Chancellorsville, her mother had died of a broken heart. The war ended, and she recalled sitting at the kitchen table with her father.
“A blacksmith must work, dear one.” He’d explained, his face looking pained. “I have a brother in Ohio who would be happy to take us in, and you could stay with family there. It is improper you have stayed on with me alone as long as you have. Were it not for the war, I’d have sent you on long ago.”
“I could not leave you alone here, father.” She had answered, fearing his suggestions.
“Yes, but you are a grown woman. It is perhaps time you make your own way in the world. If you wish to go with me to Ohio, I will be winding down my affairs here by the fall, October at the latest. If you wish to find a husband between now and then so that you may stay in Baltimore-”
“I have no love for this city left.” She had spat out. He smiled at her words, and she continued. “But I will see what I can do. I don’t wish to be a burden and, truth be told, I have grown lonely.”
Heading out into the plains in late September of 1965, she had her doubts about this wild place. The territory had just completed a mini-war of its own from what she’d read, the “Colorado War” between Kiowa, Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Comanche tribes and the white settlers. Though she was herself a settler, she felt sympathy for their cause. No one had invited people like herself to come to the west and claim these lands. It would have, perhaps, been more conducive to a civil society if folks like herself stayed East.
She reflected on these thoughts as she gazed out the window onto the eastern plains of Colorado, with her first real glimpse of the Rocky Mountain range fast approaching. She felt a bit like an interloper, an adventurer who was seeking a new life among a quickly-shifting backdrop. On the positive side, she could start a whole new life here, create her own identity without any preconceptions from her old life.
On the negative, she was marrying a man she knew almost nothing about.
The pictures they had exchanged gave her some hope. She looked to her locket to see his face again. He seemed an ordinary sort with a youthful, handsome face. His large mustache obscured part of his face, and he parted his hair down the middle. Louisa hoped that he was as kind as his letters had made him seem.
All of that would be settled soon enough. She could see that a few ranch houses were now in view, signs that they were approaching the town. The engine was slowing, and she smiled as she thought of the possibilities.
Eventually, the train stopped and she let out a deep sigh of relief, glad to be leaving the rocking train behind her at last.
She stepped off the train and waited to see Thomas, the man she’d been corresponding with over the past few months. To her consternation, she couldn’t place him. But as she pulled her bags off the train and waited, a trio of people approached. They included an older man, a young man around Thomas’s age, and a similarly young red-haired woman.
“Pardon me, ma’am.” The young man began. He had a brown mustache that somewhat resembled her Thomas. “We might be wrong, but would you be Miss Louisa Forest of Baltimore, Maryland?”
“That is I.” She confirmed, feeling uncomfortable. “I had hoped to meet Mr. Thomas Bradford here.”
“My brother.” The man said, and by his tone, she sensed she was about to receive some bad news. She wasn’t disappointed. “I’m sorry, there was no way to give you warning. Thomas died two days ago.”
###
“You’ve all been so kind to me. I couldn’t eat another bite.” Louisa said, pushing away her plate.
Louisa had been invited to the Bradford home after the initial shock of the discovery. She was trying to be as polite as possible with the traumatized family. Though she too had suffered a loss of sorts, she had only known the man through his letters. She felt she had no right to grieve.
The older man, Jim, pushed away from the table as well. “Another wonderful meal, Ann. You’ve done well.”
“Thank you, uncle.” She kept her head down, her expression difficult to read. The other in their quartet, Jeb Bradford, had said little as well, leaving Jim to handle virtually all of the social interaction with their guest.
She felt as though she were intruding on their grief, and after clearing her throat, offered a thought. “You have been so generous, but I must ask one more favor. Before it becomes dark, would you be so kind as to find me a boarding house for women of good character? I am so new here-”
“No, no.” Big Jim Bradford insisted, brushing his huge white beard. “We won’t hear of it. You’ll stay here as long as you please. No debate on that, now.”
“I have no desire to impose on your good nature.” She insisted.
“You’re new to the West, Miss Louisa. It wouldn’t be proper for us to allow you to do such a thing, not right away at least. Please do us this kindness.”
She nodded. “As you say, then. I’m ever so grateful.”
As Ann got up to clear away the table, Louisa joined her. Though her hostess tried to stop her, Louisa explained, “I don’t mind being a guest, but if you’ll allow me to be of some use it’d be very fine with me. I’ve been cooped up on a train for so long, a touch of work would be welcome.”
Ann consented and they took the dishes for washing up. As Louisa dried and Ann washed, she thought it best to say as little as possible. It was Ann who broke the silence.
“It’s been peaceful here for a long time. The war passed us by, praise God.” Ann said quietly.
“That’s good.” Louisa suggested.
“Yes, it was. But it couldn’t last, of course. Nothing good ever does.” Ann bitterly complained.
“Don’t say that. It’s not so.”
“It is. We were a quiet town until the saloon opened up. Frank Durant brought in gambling, dancing, a brothel, and a criminal element. My brother was trying to do something about it, until he was gunned down.”
Until then, the family hadn’t revealed the way in which Louisa’s suitor had died. Her breath caught at this revelation.
“I’m so sorry.” She said. Ann patted her hand.
“Nothing to be done about it. He stood up to Durant and he and his ilk killed him. I’d warned him, begged him not to confront him. Of course, we can’t prove it was Durant. Thomas was found dead on the road, alone; his horse had run off.
The Bradfords lived on a small horse and sheep ranch only a mile outside of town. Louisa had been brought back to their home by horse and cart.
After they’d finished the work, Louisa went to the front room, where she found Big Jim reading a Bible. “You’re an industrious sort, Louisa. Thank you for helping Ann.”
“It was nothing, really.”
“I’m afraid we’re short on entertainment. Jeb is a passable fiddle player and…” he hesitated. “I was about to say Thomas can play banjo very well. Could, of course. I suppose the habit of saying he’s with us will take some time to pass. At any rate, Jeb is out checking up on the stock.”
“No matter. I have a few books I’ve brought with me for reading.” She settled in to a chair and soon Ann joined them. “I was just hearing about Thomas. From his letters, he was a wonderful man. I really am so sorry.”
Jim looked uncomfortable. “I’ve a small confession to make there. You see, Thomas never wrote those letters.”
This came as a shock. “What? What are you saying?”
The older man sighed. “Thomas wasn’t very keen on taking a wife. But I didn’t think it was right for him to be alone, so I asked that the letters be written for him. It’s not as though he was a very good writer anyway. Well- Jeb was the one who did the writing, I’m afraid.”
This was all too much for her. She found herself shaking from upset. “All of this time, I’ve been talking to someone completely different. It was nothing but a trick, and I’ve been meant as the punchline!”
“Not at all!” Jim protested. “It was an honorable intention. You must believe, Thomas was a good man. I am sure given time, you two would have gotten on very well.”
She stood up. Louisa was upset, but she hadn’t forgotten the family had just lost one of their own. “I’d like to be shown my room. I thank you for the hospitality, but tomorrow I’ll need to secure my own room in town, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Ann, would you take her to the guest room?”
It was getting dark, so Ann lit a lamp and took the young woman upstairs. “Please don’t be too cross. Uncle meant well. I didn’t approve, but.. Thomas was the eldest among us and it was getting on time.”
“Let’s say no more about it. Thank you.” Louisa said stiffly, as she was taken to her room. When the door closed behind her and she was sure she was alone, she fell onto the big feather bed, finally allowing herself to cry.
###
The town of Oak Ridge had very little to offer a single woman. Once she had settled into the Napier Boarding House, Louisa found herself with nothing much to do but look for work.