Courting Kate (4 page)

“Mercy sakes, I could walk and get there quicker than this,” the elder, Bessie McGuire, complained.
 

Selina, Bessie’s daughter-in-law, smiled and patted the old woman’s mitten-covered hand. “Now, Ma, you’ve been over this road enough times to know how long it takes.”

The coach hit a bump and skidded sideways.

“I only hope that driver gets us there in one piece.” Crinkling her mouth into a gap-toothed grin, Bessie raised her booted feet and braced them against the opposite seat, showing a good deal of flannel petticoat in the process.
 

In spite of her fear, Kathleen found it hard to repress a smile. Although she hadn’t known Selina and Bessie long, they had her admiration. While their rough speech and clothing would scarcely qualify the pair as ladies, they, unlike herself, seemed to belong to this primitive land. Their leathery skin and red, calloused hands, now covered by thick wool mittens, told her they were not averse to hard work.

It would take more than meeting a stranger to frighten them, Kathleen thought, chiding herself for her own lack of courage. Her scolding didn’t help. She admitted it. She was scared. Scared to death.

Why had she been so foolish? She should have waited until she found out more, but at the time the advertisement had seemed like an answer to a prayer. Now it loomed like an approaching nightmare. Before this day ended she would meet the man she had traveled over three thousand miles to marry. A man she wouldn’t know if she ran over him in the middle of the street. She didn’t know the color of his eyes, whether he had light or dark hair, or even if he had any hair at all. The only thing she had to go by was what the advertisement stated:
 

Handsome, prosperous lumberman requests lady of quality to share spacious home in Oregon’s beautiful Siskiyou Mountains—object matrimony.
 

Not much to base a future life on. Not much at all.
 

They had corresponded—if you could call it that. She’d sent a letter asking for more information, along with a faded out-of-date photo. She’d been amazed that his return letter had arrived so quickly—then dismayed when she realized he’d answered none of her questions. His reply contained little more than a terse note saying, “You’ll do,” along with money for her train fare to Sacramento, the end of the railroad line, and a stage ticket from there to Jacksonville, Oregon.

She worriedly twisted the ties on her reticule. What if he wasn’t handsome? Men had been known to have an exaggerated opinion of themselves. Looks weren’t all that important, she decided, as long as he wasn’t mean-spirited.

What if he was cruel and inclined to beat her? What would she do then? She was thousands of miles away from everything she had ever known.

Would her fiancé be in Jacksonville to meet her? What would she do if he wasn’t? What if he hadn’t received her letter saying she was coming? One of her stage companions had told her that the mail delivery this time of year was so erratic that sometimes the letters didn’t arrive for months.

Kathleen was almost grateful for the distraction when a wheel of the stage slid off into a rut, catapulting the passengers upward to bang their heads on the roof.

“Mercy sakes, I swear that driver is tryin’ to kill us,” Bessie said, rubbing her palm over her thinning white hair. She retrieved a man’s felt hat that she had discarded earlier and tugged it on, then anchored it in place with her muffler. “Now if he tries that again, maybe I can keep what few brains I’ve got left from gettin’ addled.”

Kathleen wished her own problem could be solved that easily. For the second time that day, she had ended up on the floor.

“Child, you might fare better if you moved back here with us,” Bessie said. “At least you can brace yourself so’s you don’t end up black and blue.”

“If you’re sure I wouldn’t be crowding you.”

The old lady let out a whoop of laughter. “You’re so little, it would take six of you to fill up the rest of this seat. Besides, you can share this lap robe. That outfit, while mighty pretty, don’t appear like it’s none too warm.”

“It is a bit thin for the weather.” Shivering in her black silk bombazine traveling costume and light wool cloak, Kathleen settled in beside Bessie and gratefully tucked the quilt around her. While she didn’t want to admit it to the ladies, that outfit was the warmest she had. Unlike Selina and Bessie who wore boots, heavy dresses and flannel petticoats, she was ill-prepared for severe weather. Something she’d soon have to remedy, she decided.

“Suppose it’ll snow?” Bessie asked, peering eastward toward the higher Cascade peaks.
 

“Maybe if it gets colder, but right now it seems a bit too warm out for that. Thank God,” Selina added under her breath.
 

“In another couple of weeks the pass will be full of snow and ice. Then, even if a stage could get through, which is unlikely, it would be a hair-raisin’ trip.”

Thinking about the ordeal she had already experienced, Kathleen gave thanks that she had come when she did. But at the same time, anxiety made a knot in her middle when she realized that once she reached Jacksonville, if things didn’t turn out as she had hoped, the winter weather would make it impossible for her to leave.

She imagined herself trapped, hemmed in by dark, inhospitable mountains, a stranger in an even stranger land. She shivered. Get hold of yourself, Kathleen.
It will be all right.
It had to be.

She forced her concerns aside and envisioned a rosier picture. She imagined herself being met by a well-groomed, fair-haired gentleman who would kiss her hand and solicitously ask about her journey. He would see her to her accommodations, and over dinner they would get acquainted. If they decided they suited, then, after a lengthy courtship, they would wed. After the ceremony, he would drive her to a stately, two-story house. The lawns would be spacious and tree-shaded, and the grounds well kept with flower arbors. Of course his home couldn’t be like the plantation she had left behind in Georgia, but still... “Whoa!” the driver yelled, pulling the horses to a walk.

“Are we there?” Kathleen asked hopefully, peering through the rain-dotted window.

“I wish we were,” Selina replied. “We’re pullin’ into Robin’s Roost to have a bite to eat and change horses.”

“Robber’s Roost is more like it,” Bessie amended. “And as far as being there—” The old woman chuckled. “We’ve only made the summit. It’s worse goin’ down.”

Worse?
Before she could ask Bessie to explain, the door opened, and the buckskin-clad driver stuck his head inside.

“All out. And don’t take all day eatin’. I want to get off this damned mountain before dark.” He spat a stream of tobacco juice, then ambled toward the shotgun guard who was waiting for the hostlers to change the teams.
 

“My, isn’t he a pleasant soul,” Kathleen declared.

“Charlie Parkhurst ain’t known for his politeness, nor his manners.” Selina jumped down, then held up her hand for Bessie. In spite of her advanced age, the spry old lady jumped flat-footed to the ground. Ignoring the drizzling rain, she set off in pursuit of the driver. “Wait up there,” she ordered.
 

Parkhurst turned, his expression sour as his demeanor. “Yeah. What do you want?”

“What happened to the regular stage driver? He was a gentleman, not like another I could name,” Bessie said pointedly.

“He had an accident. Stage rolled over. He’ll be laid up for a spell.”

“Sorry to hear that. Anybody else hurt?”

“Yeah. They sued the company. Cost it a lot of money.” He narrowed his one good eye and picked up a slender chunk of iron. “You can bet it wouldn’t happen to me. If’n I had an accident, I’d check out the passengers. Them that was dead, I’d leave alone. Them that weren’t—” He hefted the wagon iron suggestively. “They wouldn’t be filing no claims.” He smiled maliciously, then walked away.

“Humph!” The old lady shot him a scathing glance then returned to the others.
 

“Would he do that?” Kathleen asked, horrified by the idea. “I’d hate to put him to the test.” Selina took Bessie’s arm and escorted her inside.
 

After a dinner of scorched beans and tough steak, Kathleen and her companions had barely climbed aboard when the Concord lurched on its way. The stage kept to the mountain side of the road, when possible. Mostly it skittered over the slick surface like a drop of water in a hot skillet, coming all too near to the yawning abyss for comfort. Bracing their feet on the seat across from them, the other two women chatted. Kathleen stared straight ahead, too terrified to make any attempt at speech.
 

Now along with the usual chuckle of the axles, a steady click, click, click rose from the wheels of the stage. And another sound. Bells.
 

“What’s that clattering noise?” Kathleen asked.
 

“Brakes,” Selina replied. “The grade is so slick and steep that he is keeping them locked.”
 

“And the bells?”
 

“He tied them to the harnesses. That’s to warn anyone coming up to get out of the way.”

The road was so narrow Kathleen shuddered to think of what might happen if they met another wagon, or even a horse and rider.
 

By the time the ground began to level out, Kathleen vowed no matter what happened, she would never go near that mountain again. Releasing a quivering sigh, she glanced at Selina.

“The pass is a sight better now than it used to be,” Selina said, tongue-in-cheek. “If it hadn’t been a-stormin’, we would have had no problem at all.”

Managing a doubtful smile, Kathleen stared out the rain- streaked window.
 

Now that they’d reached the valley floor, the horses stretched into an easy gallop, racing past cornfields, with their weathered stalks tied into upright bundles, and brown-grassed pastures. Kathleen stared at the lantern-lit farmhouses and wondered if one of them might belong to her future husband. As suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped, and a brilliant rainbow lit the late afternoon sky. “Oh, it is beautiful,” she cried.

“You ought to see it in spring. Everything is so green it hurts your eyes,” Bessie said.
 

“We like it here, but the winters take some gettin’ used to.” Selina added with a smile, “However, some years we still have flowers bloomin’ at Christmas.”
 

“We never had much of a winter in Georgia. Might be a nice change.” Especially if you were warm and dry and seated comfortably in front of a cozy fireplace, she thought, hoping her new home would have a large fireplace. Beyond the oak-covered foothills, the mountains loomed dark and menacing, their forest- crested tips covered with snow. Kathleen shivered. At least she wouldn’t have to live up there.

After stopping to change horses again, they were quickly on their way. Now, instead of the slap of water and mud that had been the case, the stage wheels crunched in a thick layer of gravel, a definite sign of prosperity.

Kate peered out the window. By the increasing number of dwellings, she knew they must be coming into Jacksonville. Her heart drumming with both fear and anticipation, she was eager to get a glimpse of the place where she would make her home.

While Jacksonville was nowhere near the size of Atlanta, it appeared to be a thriving community. They passed several residences, one of which seemed so imposing that she craned her neck for a second look. Farther on, she noticed a newspaper office and a harness shop.

“Whoa,” Charlie Parkhurst yelled, bringing the stage to a stop in front of a long, two-story white building. A sign dangling between two chains read UNITED STATES HOTEL. Much to Kathleen’s amazement, the driver opened the door and courteously helped each of his three female passengers to the ground. “I hope you’ll find the diggin’s comfortable, ladies.” After placing their luggage in the lobby, he returned, respectfully tilted a begrimed felt hat, then climbed atop the stage.
 

Kathleen and Selina looked at each other, then burst into giggles. “Was that the same man?” Kathleen asked, watching the coach disappear around a corner.
 

“Wouldn’t dare be rude to us now. Too many people around,” Selina said wryly. She glanced up and down the street. “I don’t see your fiancé, but he might be waiting inside. Or he might be in one of the saloons.” She pointed toward a group of buildings in the next block.
 

Kathleen blamed a blast of wind for the tremor that made her draw her cloak a little closer. The area in front of the hotel did appear deserted. No wagons. No horses. No Mr. Blaine. Selina and Bessie waited expectantly. Still Kate hesitated. Now that she had arrived, she lacked the courage to go inside.
 

As if sensing her thoughts, Selina shot her a reassuring smile before turning to her elderly companion. “Come on, Ma. Let’s get you out of the cold.” She took her mother-in-law’s arm and escorted her through the hotel’s double doors.
 

The odors of manure, wet earth and freshly cut lumber scented the raw, cold air. Across the street, unpainted boards of a false-fronted building gleamed fresh and new against the more weathered, grey appearance of its neighbors. Down the block, an impressive brick building took up most of the corner, and Kathleen wondered if it might be a bank. Past that, the tinkling of a piano drifted through the swinging door of a brightly lit drinking establishment.