The Escape
Authors: Susannah Calloway
Mail Order Brides of Burrow Creek
The Escape
A Christian Western Romance Short Story
bySusannah Callowa
y
Copyright © 2015 Tica House Publishing All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
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Garrett grabbed Betty’s arm and stuck his face close to hers, spraying her with his foul breath. “Why fight me, Betty? It only makes sense. We can be married within the month.”
His grip tightened, and Betty struggled to maintain her cool. She felt the pressure of his fingers through her long linen sleeve and attempted to extricate her arm. “Please, Garrett.”
She worked to control her expression, hoping not to further raise his ire. His close-set black eyes bore into hers, and then he sighed and let go. She stumbled back, nearly losing her balance.
“Listen to me, Betty. My brother would have wanted this.” His eyes raked over her, and she resisted the urge to flee. “You want to raise a b—?”
“Stop!” she cried. Her hand flew to her mouth. That was low even for Garrett. “My baby has two parents! He will be perfectly acceptable.”
Garrett glowered, his narrow features pinched into points. “Don’t forget, one of those parents is dead.” He lowered his voice. “But I apologize. You’re right. The baby will be accepted.”
Betty’s heart raced, and her breath came quickly. How could two brothers be so completely opposite?
Oh, Edmund, why did you have to die?
She had never felt so utterly alone in her life.
Garrett laid his long bony hand on her shoulder, and she bit her lip to stifle a scream. Where could she live if he threw her out? Where could she raise her baby?
Edmund, why couldn’t you have been the eldest? Why couldn’t you have been the one to inherit the estate?
Garrett squeezed her shoulder brusquely, his fingers curling into her. “Mother is in complete agreement. She supports our marriage; indeed, she is pleased. After so much sadness with Edmund’s passing, isn’t it wise to have some celebration? Isn’t it only right to give Mother joy again?”
Betty swallowed. “Edmund is hardly cold in his grave. This is no time for a marriage.”
His black eyes snapped. “What is the advantage to waiting? I want this baby to belong to me. It will be a boy, and I will have an heir.”
“And if it’s a girl?”
“It will be a
boy
,” Garrett said more strongly, obviously unwilling to acknowledge the possibility.
“You must give me more days to ponder,” Betty said.
He cupped her chin, and nausea rose in her throat. “Not too long, my love. There are other beautiful girls in Boston.”
“I still don’t see why I can’t live here as Edmund’s widow. Why can’t I raise my child as your niece or nephew? I don’t understand—”
He put his well-manicured finger on her lips. “Because, my dearest Betty, I want you. I’ve always wanted you. Simple as that.”
She pulled his hand from her face. “Edmund was your brother! Why can’t you honor his memory?”
He ran his tongue over his thin upper lip and grinned. “I
am
honoring his memory by taking his wife. Don’t forget, you’re with child. I’m doing you a favor. A huge favor. Most men would not be so charitable.”
“Most men wouldn’t force their brother’s widow to marry them.” Betty trembled as she enunciated each word.
His voice turned hard. “Such a shame, isn’t it, that your grandfather is unwilling to bail you out. Such a shame that your younger sisters have all his attention. And a particular shame that your other fool sister ran off to Wyoming.”
He gave a harsh laugh. “And you, well, you, my dear, are stuck here with me.” He petted her arm. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll see. We’ll get along splendidly.”
Betty backed away, keeping her eyes on him, fear climbing her spine.
“Go ahead and ponder your situation, Betty. You’ll realize I am your only possible solution.”
Betty turned and fled up the winding staircase to her room on the second floor. Hers and
Edmund’s
room. She’d lived there during her short year of marriage, never fully aware of just how revolting Garrett was. She fell to the bed, tears burning her eyes. How had her life disintegrated into such a complete mess?
And why wasn’t Edmund’s mother defending her and helping her?
Because she thinks Garrett is wonderful,
came the bitter truth.
Betty scooted back against the heavy ornate headboard, huddling like a lost child. Maybe she could talk some sense into Grandfather. Maybe she could move back in with him and her sisters. Yet even as she thought it, she knew Grandfather would never agree. He had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to marry Garrett—that she was fortunate Garrett wanted her. That Garrett would make a fine husband.
Now she knew how her sister Louellen had felt before she ran off to be a mail order bride. Grandfather had planned a union between Lou and an ancient widower—a man old enough to be Louellen’s father and then some.
Shame filled Betty’s heart. She hadn’t been kind to her sister and her wild decision. In fact, she’d tried to stop her.
But now she understood. She understood only too well.
Betty rose from the bed and went to her bureau. She pulled open the top drawer and drew out the precious few letters she’d received from Louellen since she’d fled. She took out the last one and smoothed it open.
Dear Betty,
I hope this finds both you and Edmund well. It was wonderful to hear from you recently. It took just over a month for your letter to reach me. I am thrilled at your news. A baby! I imagine everyone is excited. I am hoping to be able to share the same news with you very soon.
How I wish you could meet my Jude. Oh, Betty, remember when I left Boston? I had no idea what the man I was to marry would be like. I am so blessed. God has given me a man of such integrity and character. And we laugh a lot!
Don’t misunderstand, life here in Burrow Creek is hard. Bone-tired hard. Money is short. We all work from sunup to sundown. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Give all my love to Grandfather and Mae and Emmalyn. I miss all of you so deeply. Perhaps someday we will see each other again. That is my fervent wish.
All my love,
Your sister, Lou
Betty pressed the letter to her chest and closed her eyes. Never in a thousand years would she have dreamed things would work out so well for her sister.
She opened her eyes and placed the letter back in its envelope.
If Lou can do it …
Betty’s mind whirled. What was the name of that enterprise Lou had used to go west?
Mrs. Something-or-other’s something something Wedded Bliss?
When Lou had told her where it was located, Betty had paid little mind, only doing her best to convince Lou to forget such a foolish notion. Betty’s breath quickened.
This could be the answer for me, too.
Perhaps she could escape Garrett and find a wonderful man like Jude.
But live on the frontier? Without her accustomed modern conveniences? Without her allowance? Working hard from morning till night?
She ran her hands gently over the growing bulge at her waist. Would she be risking the baby if she tried such a feat? If something happened to the little one, she would never forgive herself. But did she want Garrett raising her child? Not that he would lift his hand to any of it—she knew that. But her child would grow up with him as the father figure.
She shuddered. Never! She couldn’t do it to the baby. Or to the memory of her husband.
Betty suspected that Edmund had never given her his entire heart, a truth she’d learned to live with over the months. But he’d been a good man. Decent and honest. And even though she was ever aware that she loved him more than he loved her, she’d never doubted his loyalty.
He
was the kind of person she wanted her child to take after. Not Garrett.
Never
Garrett.
She put on her cape and went downstairs, keeping her eye out for any trace of her brother-in-law. When she saw the butler Horace at the door, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Horace, please have the carriage brought around. There is something needing my attention.”
“Very good, madam,” Horace said without expression.
Five minutes later, Betty was tucked securely into the carriage. She’d instructed the driver to take her near her grandfather’s home. She distinctly remembered Lou telling her the establishment was close by, and again, she sorely regretted she hadn’t gotten the specific address. She pressed her eyes closed, trying to remember everything Lou had told her. The establishment had been in a neighborhood where the homes were quite stately, although not as large as Grandfather’s. Lou had gone there three times—the first time as a joke with her friend Rosaline Mansfield.
Betty grabbed the window opening. Of course! She would ask Rosaline.
“Johnson!” she called through the window. “Please take me to the Mansfield house.”
****
When Betty approached Rosaline and asked where the mail order bride establishment was located, Rosaline’s gawking emerald eyes grew huge.
“Don’t ask me any questions,” Betty said. “Then you can’t tattle.”
Rosaline told her it was called
Mrs. Cobblestone’s Agency for Gentlemen Seeking Wedded Bliss
and mumbled the directions. Betty thanked her and swept back to the carriage—feeling Rosaline gaping at her the entire way.
Betty instructed the driver and sat back, the leather seats rustling. She laid her hands gently on her stomach and swallowed back the queasiness rising in her throat.
What am I doing?
She inhaled a raspy breath.
Courage, Betty, courage. Lou did this. You can do it, too.
Johnson pulled the carriage to a stop in front of a large home with a heavy oak door. He jumped down from his perch and helped Betty out.
“Thank you, Johnson,” she said and nodded. She knew he watched her, so she walked with concentrated grace and ease up to the door where she gently rapped.
A stout woman with a warm smile revealing a slightly crooked front tooth opened the door. “Welcome, my dear. Do come in.” She stepped back and ushered Betty in.
Betty glanced about, taking in her surroundings. There was a subdued elegance in the entryway and parlor. Her eyes landed on an oversized desk with one stuffed chair behind it and one in front of it.
So this was where the deed was done.
“I’m Mrs. Cobblestone, and I can only assume you know of my excellent reputation in matching up fine eligible bachelors with young women of culture.” She peered at Betty and her eyes rested on the bulge at her middle, obvious even through the cape. “Please be seated.”
Betty sat, her back erect and her hands folded on her lap. “You helped my sister Louellen Montgomery find a husband in the Wyoming Territory.”
Mrs. Cobblestone clapped her hands. “Oh, I do remember that! She was the replacement for a young woman who reneged her agreement.” She leaned forward, her eyes alight. “It all worked out wonderfully, then?”
Betty nodded.
“I knew it!” Mrs. Cobblestone clapped again and then clasped her hands to her ample bosom. “So romantic! Taking her letter of introduction with her.”
The woman’s face grew serious. “What can I do for you?”
Betty cleared her throat. “As you can see, I am in need of a husband…”
“Now I recognize you! Aren’t you Louellen’s elder sister, Betty? Tsk, tsk, such a nasty business, your husband being killed like that. And a downright shame as Edmund was an excellent rider. You have my deepest sympathies. But, my dear, I heard you were to marry the brother, Garrett. Is that not so?”
Betty shifted in the plush chair. Even the mention of Garrett’s name sent her senses recoiling. “No, it is not so.” Betty hated the trembling in her voice.
“But it was in the society column, and as you know, Margorie Phillips is rarely wrong.” Mrs. Cobblestone chuckled.
Betty drew herself up even straighter. “She’s wrong this time.”
Mrs. Cobblestone clamped her lips shut and eyed Betty. She shuffled some letters on her desk. “I stand corrected. And so I repeat, how may I help you?”
“I would like to apply or give interest or whatever it is I am to do.”
“We start with a letter of introduction, which I send to whom I believe would be a good match. A correspondence then ensues. Should things progress smoothly…” She leaned forward. “And they usually do in my establishment—fare is then sent to transport the bride to her husband. Boston is quite a distance and so usually it is train fare. However, on occasion, it is still done by coach.”
Betty kept her gaze steady on the woman, absorbing the information.
“It can be a lengthy process, my dear. Correspondence takes up to a month for each letter, sometimes more.” Mrs. Cobblestone’s gaze roamed to Betty’s waist. “I’m not certain you have enough time to properly carry out this process. Perhaps it would be better for you after your child is born.”
Betty’s eyes widened. “No. No. It needs to happen quickly.”
“In that case, I can search for a suitable man closer. It would help, but I feel it only fair to warn you—”
“Please choose someone in Burrow Creek,” Betty said quickly. “I’m to go to Burrow Creek in the Wyoming Territory, just like Louellen.”