Authors: Alexa Blair
Almost before she knew what happened, her preparations were done. She said her goodbyes to Hannah at the station and boarded the train. And just like that, she was headed west toward a strange new life.
*****
Jacob was sitting in the saloon idly smoking a cigarette and listening to Garrett and Charlie’s banter when he heard the stagecoach come clattering into town. He stubbed out his cigarette, stood, and headed for the door. Garrett and Charlie stopped their banter and followed him.
He watched the stagecoach draw to a halt with equal parts anticipation and trepidation. He recognized her from her photograph the moment she stepped down from the stagecoach.
“Ms. Whitmore,” he said formally, stepping forward.
“Mr. Daughtry,” she replied just as formally.
There was a long moment of silence.
“Shall we, uh…?”
“Of course,” she replied. Not much more was spoken between them as they made their way to the justice of the peace. Garrett and Charlie exchanged a look and shook their heads.
The ceremony was brief, and when it was done Garrett and Charlie wished them well and went their separate ways.
“I guess I should show you to my…um, I mean our…house.”
“Alright,” Cassandra said quietly.
They walked to the house and Jacob ushered her through the front door.
“It’s not much,” he said. “This is the kitchen. I got some things I thought you might need.” He indicated a motley assortment of flour, beans, dry goods, honey, and other things.
“Oh…thank you,” she said.
They continued to the sparsely furnished sitting area.
“This is the sitting area,” he said. They stood quietly for a minute before continuing to the bedroom. “And this is the uh…,” He paused to straighten the tattered blanket that adorned the bed and cleared his throat nervously. “This is the bedroom.”
Cassandra nodded, looking around and taking in the room. After a long moment she spoke.
“I think I may lie down for a bit. If that’s alright.”
Jacob nodded and withdrew from the room, wondering what exactly he had just gotten himself into.
*****
Cassandra fell into a deep sleep almost before her head had hit the tattered pillow. The exhaustion that was the constant companion of pregnancy coupled with her long journey had taken everything out of her. She woke briefly sometime in the night when she felt the weight of her new husband settling into the bed.
She tensed for a moment, unsure what to expect. But he rolled over with his back to her and soon began snoring. Cassandra relaxed and drifted back to sleep. By the time she woke again it was morning and he was gone.
She rose from the bed and was glad to see that Jacob had seen to having her trunk brought. She changed out of her travel clothing and, unsure of what else to do, set to work cleaning the house and going through the kitchen to see what she could cook for dinner.
She managed to find enough in the odds and ends that Jacob had bought to prepare a meal, but she would definitely have to go into town again soon.
It felt strange to make herself so at home in someone else’s house. But, she supposed, this was her home too now. It was a strange thought.
It was late afternoon by the time Jacob came through the front door, covered in grime from the day’s work. He blinked in surprise when he saw that she had beans and cornbread prepared and set out on the table.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be up yet. You didn’t seem too well yesterday.”
“Just needed some rest,” she said with a faint smile.
“I’m glad,” he said. “I’ll go get washed up.”
It felt strange to him at first, having a woman about the house again, but the two of them quickly settled into a comfortable, if somewhat distant rhythm.
One evening, as Cassandra was finishing up cleaning in the kitchen, Jacob took his guitar and went outside. Cassandra stopped what she was doing when she heard him pluck out the first few notes of Wayfaring Stranger. It was one of her favorite songs.
She stepped out the front door and began to timidly sing along. Jacob looked up and offered her a smile. Her voice was not as robust as some of the opera singers whom she so admired, but it was high and sweet and true.
When the song was done he reached up and took her hand. She sat down next to him and the two of them watched the sun set together. She was surprised to feel things stirring within her heart that she thought had died along with Jonathon.
Cassandra felt a surge of joy followed immediately by a pang of dread. It was only a matter of time before Jacob realized that she was pregnant. She was beginning to show more every day
Just as she had known, it was not long before Jacob realized her condition. It was a Sunday and he had been looking at her oddly all day. After some time he went into the bedroom and began to rummage through a trunk. He came back out holding three dresses and handed them to Cassandra.
“Thought you might be needing these,” he said bitterly. He seemed about to say something else, but thought better of it. He turned and went out the door without another word.
Cassandra, confused, began to examine the dresses. They were maternity dresses. Cassandra felt her stomach drop sickeningly. But at the same time, she was almost relieved. The secret was out now. No more agonizing over when he would find out. No more agonizing over how to tell him.
She
had
meant to tell him. She had just never found a good way to do it.
She had no idea what would happen now. She supposed he would be well within his rights to have the marriage annulled. What had she been
thinking
when she had decided on this crazy plan? That he would just smile and say it was alright? She felt sick.
She was still sitting there trying to figure out what to do when Jacob came back, seeming much more composed than he had been before. The two regarded each other in silence for a long moment.
“Seems we need to have a talk,” he finally said quietly.
Cassandra nodded miserably.
“I’d ask you to explain yourself, but your condition speaks for itself I think.”
Cassandra didn’t reply.
“There a man gonna come lookin’ for you? A husband? A lover?”
“No,” Cassandra said, barely above a whisper. “He’s gone.”
Something softened in Jacobs face. “How?”
“Yellow fever,” Cassandra told him. “Right after I found out about the baby. He never knew.”
And suddenly Jacob understood. The last of his anger evaporated as he saw just how much pain she was in. He wrapped her in his arms, and neither of them spoke for a long time.
“I never told you how I lost my wife,” he finally said. “She died in childbirth, a couple years back. Baby didn’t make it either.”
“Those were her dresses,” Cassandra realized.
“Yeah,” he said. He paused for a long moment before going on. “When I put my family in the ground, I didn’t think I would ever love anyone again. Until I found you.”
Cassandra began to cry and he embraced her more tightly.
“I don’t want to give up on this,” he said.
“Neither do I,” she said.
Epilogue
Jacob and Cassandra remained married, though their time in You Bet was short-lived. They left after much of the town burned in September of that year and went back to New Orleans where Cassandra gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Jacob raised him as his own, and they had three
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The Brides New Life: Chapter 1
I imagine the scenery of the train ride was beautiful. I was too busy rereading letters from my husband to notice. Well, he was my soon to be husband. I was riding the train in response to an ad.
“Wife Wanted – Cherry Creek, Colorado. Male widower, age 38, and of comfortable income seeks wife. Domestic skills are a must.”
His name was Jacob Johnson. The ad was forthright and gave little detail of courtship expectations or personality. His three letters were friendly, but also to the point.
“Dear Ms. Mark, please tell me about yourself and send a photo. You will find a photo of myself in this letter as a sort of introduction. I like a nicely cooked meal, a clean home, and dirty boots on the porch. Nice to meet you, Jacob Johnson.”
“Dear Ms. Mark, you sound agreeable and possess a charm of appearance. Would you consider joining me in Cherry Creek? I can provide a more than adequate life style for you and will require very little of you in return. Sincerely yours, Jacob Johnson.”
“Dear Ms. Mark, I have purchased a ticket for you on the Kansas Pacific. I look forward to meeting you face to face. Yours, Jacob.”
I had a perfectly comfortable lifestyle as it was. My parents had quite the hand in the east end of the Transcontinental Railroad. Enough so that Father grazed a tidy sum from all three companies competing to go the distance. I was younger at the time, but from what I understood it had to do with kickbacks from political funding of the venture. He even appeared at a Golden Spike ceremony.
My parents had been laid to rest about two years now. I had been living with my sister, Rebecca, and her husband, Michael. She felt I was too young to live alone. I was nearly twenty at the time, but I understood. It was more a matter of being single and living alone. However, they did not yet have a child after 3 years and I was beginning to feel she used me for a surrogate.
I was lucky to have hidden my letters otherwise she would have found a way to keep me home. I was lucky my brother in law liked to read the paper aloud to us each evening. I enjoyed the ads, but something about this one sounded different. I reread it that night when everyone else was asleep. The next morning I sent inquiry to Mr. Johnson.
That was nearly a month ago. Now, I sat on a west bound train.
I left a note assuring Rebecca of my love, safety, and a letter as soon as I was settled. I grabbed the luggage I had hidden while they were out to dinner at another couple’s house one evening. Then, I walked down the street to a carriage I had previously hired to take me to the train station.
The train had been making good time and I was fortunate to not be on a train encountered by Jessie James or being used as part of the cattle shipment.
I read the closing of the last letter one last time as we pulled into the station. I tucked the letter back in its envelope and put them along with the ad into a box of trinkets I had saved. A family on the train sent their boys to help with my luggage. I gave them each a coin in gratitude.
As I stood by my things and looked around the plank, I did not see Jacob. He did not strike me as the type to be late. I feared that he may have changed his mind. I debated purchasing a ticket home again.
Chapter 2
“Hello, you must be Lillian Mark,” an elderly female voice said.
I looked around and a short, round woman was walking in my direction.
“Sorry I was not right at the train to greet you,” she said. “I was sitting just inside the station watching for you. I will be your chaperone.”
“Chaperone?” I asked.
“Yes, dear. Jacob, asked if you could stay with me until you two settle your arrangement. He will call on us tonight to court after you have had a chance to rest from your journey,” she said smiling.
“I thought things were settled. He sent me the ticket. I came all this way,” I said.
This situation was becoming confusing. I never considered that he might not have made up his mind. I hadn’t realized arrangements such as this still included courting. I took a breath and tried to think about what was happening.
The old woman took my arm and gestured to a station worker. I realized she must have been of some importance. Her hands were gloved. Her dress looked newly tailored. There was not a bit of dust about her nor a hair or bobble out of place. As she guided me through the station she talked and nodded to people in passing. Men tipped their hats and women gave small curtsies.
“My name is Mrs. Laura Goodman. Jacob worked for my husband, the late Sawyer Goodman, founder of Goodman Architecture,” she explained. “You are going to keep me company for a few days while you and Jacob get to know each other. We wouldn’t want you in a hotel and you certainly cannot stay together unwed.
I tried to stifle my surprise and continued to listen as we climbed into her carriage.
“Sawyer and I moved outside town once he began getting so many sky scraper contracts. We enjoy the city, but I like a view of the stars at night. It’s part of the joy living west of the Mississippi. Jacob’s house is not far down the road. An easy walk for younger people. I need to sit here and there, but Jacob is designing a nice gazeebo and picnic area between us,” she paused and gave me a smile. “He’s a nice fellow, Jacob.”
I smiled. She seemed like a sweet woman and to genuinely think well of Jacob.
For the rest of the ride she talked about things we passed in town and a few small rules she had for her home.
She showed me to my room and said lunch would be served at one o’clock. I unpacked, then joined her in the dining room where she had set the table with bread she made before coming to the station and sliced fruit and vegetables her gardener, Robert, had picked. We talked about my family back East and got to know each other a bit.
“Do you have any hobbies or crafts?” Mrs. Goodman asked.
“Well, I enjoy horseback riding and collecting things I find on my rides. I also crochet and paint. I play piano. I garden as well and like to go for walks collecting wild flowers,” I said.
“Well, that’s nice. It is good to have hobbies, especially ones that allow a bit of fresh air,” she smiled.
The maid, Prudence, cleared the table. Then, Mrs. Goodman took my arm again and we toured the garden. We had tea on the back porch and she told me stories about the area and its people until she felt she needed a nap.
I continued to look around the garden collecting a few nice flowers and pebbles. This adventure had been a lot to take in so far and it was only the beginning.
Mrs. Goodman was up again around 4 to begin preparing the evening meal. Prudence also cooked and served when there was company, but from what I gathered Mrs. Goodman preferred her independence. Even though Prudence was in the kitchen it was really more to assist Mrs. Goodman. I offered to help as well, but Mrs. Goodman told me to relax and prepare myself for dinner.
Jacob was expected to arrive just before dinner was served at six and everyone seemed to be keeping themselves busy. I decided to use this time to write my first letter to my sister.
“Dear Rebecca, The west is not as dusty as everyone would have us think. Well, at least, Colorado is not. I am currently staying with a nice widow named Laura Goodman. I will meet Mr. Johnson when he joins us tonight for dinner. Please do not worry; I will write again soon. Love, Lillian.”
I spent a little extra time making myself presentable. I chose to wear a soft blue dress with my curls neatly secured and styled in a fashionable up-do. I wore a light perfume, modest earrings, and carried a book down to read in the sitting room until dinner was served or Mr. Johnson arrived.
To my surprise he had been early. I found Mrs. Goodman and Mr. Johnson already in the sitting room with a tray of appetizers that had been prepared. Mr. Johnson noticed me first, and stood as I entered the room. Mrs. Goodman beckoned me in and gestured for me to sit on the couch at the end nearest her chair.
“Ms. Mark, please meet Jacob Johnson. Jacob, this is Lillian Mark. Isn’t she lovely?” she asked with that same smile she had been unable to turn off today.
He smiled, nodded, and offered his hand. As I extended my hand to take his, he turned it with the backside up and gave it a gentle kiss.
“Nice to meet you, finally, Miss Mark. I have enjoyed our correspondence,” he said.
He was also smiling. It was warm and friendly.
“Like wise,” I said with a small curtsy, then sat.
He continued to smile at me pleasantly as Mrs. Goodman told us what had been prepared for the meal. Then, she excused herself to check on the kitchen. I tried to smile back without seeming forward. Mr. Johnson was handsome indeed.
“Was the train ride pleasant?” He asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Mrs. Goodman seems nice. She’s very fond of you.”
“Yes, she and her husband were my second family once I moved here. Mrs. Goodman and I have seen each other through love and loss,” he explained briefly.
He was still smiling pleasantly, but he stayed in his chair opposite where Mrs. Goodman had been sitting.
“What about your family?” he asked.
I told him of my father’s work and prominence in the political community. We discussed my parents’ death; they were robbed and killed during a train ride for one of my father’s political commitments. I described Rebecca and Michael. Then, we talked a bit about the differences between life in the cities back east and what he had experienced in Colorado.
Jacob and his late wife, Julie, moved to Denver in 1862 and he immediately started working for Mr. Goodman. He surveyed land for the company’s construction projects. Eventually, Jacob began designing buildings. Mr. Goodman took ill the winter of 1863 and stopped coming to work soon after. When Mr. Goodman passed, Jacob ran the business for Mrs. Goodman fairly and honestly.
Misery struck one more time in 1864 when Julie was killed during the first flood in the lowlands. At that point, Mrs. Goodman and Jacob sold the business and he moved outside the city as well. They both lived more than comfortably off the profit of the sale.
They were each the nearest either of them had to family anymore. He still designed sky scrapers occasionally, but now he spent much of his time exploring surrounding areas for silver. Ten years had passed.