Mail Order Josephine - A Historical Mail Order Bride Novel (Western Mail Order Brides) (13 page)

Josephine gazed down at the spray of deep red blossoms in her hand, their stems wound in a pink velvet ribbon. “These are perfect. Thank you so much for getting them for me.”

“As long as they are what you want, I’m happy,” Mrs. Stockton asserted.

“I’m ready now,” Josephine declared to Aunt Agatha, who stood by ready to adorn her with her veil.

Aunt Agatha spread the gauzy material over her head, and a cloud of mist descended over Josephine’s eyes, casting the whole experience in a mystical haze.

“You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” Aunt Agatha snuffled, choking back tears. “And it isn’t your dress or your jewelry or your veil that makes you so. It’s your face. I’ve never seen a bride so happy with her groom and so enthusiastic about her future. You look positively radiant.”

Both Agatha and Mrs. Stockton dried tears from their eyes. Josephine pressed her aunt’s hand, her smile beaming from every pore of her face. “Hold my hand and escort me into the parlor,” she instructed her aunt. “I want you to give me away.”

Aunt Agatha compressed her fingers faithfully, and led the blushing bride across the hall and into the opposite room, where Andrew towered over his father, his brother Timothy, and the parson, awaiting his betrothed. Aunt Agatha placed Josephine’s hand in his with all due ceremony, and they turned toward the parson. The fog of the veil surrounded the proceeding with an air of heavenly softness. Josephine wondered if she might waken at any moment from a pleasant dream to find herself either back home in her father’s house or in some railway sleeping compartment on their journey West.

At each juncture of the wedding service, whenever she felt herself drifting off into the vapor of imagined unreality, the hard, coarse hand of Andrew Stockton, so rough and care-worn, against her soft fingers, brought her back to the present. Even in the present, she could hardly fathom the fact that she was marrying him, that she would stay here, in this house, when the service ended, and that nothing need separate her from him or from this untamed and  splendid land she’d grown to love in just the few short days since she arrived by train. Nothing now prevented her from meeting with all the gusto and energy of her soul the challenge of a frontier life and fully mastering it. She relished the idea of waking up each morning and learning everything there was to learn, perfecting every skill required
to make this life secure, and exploring and discovering all the fascinating people and places surrounding her.

In another week, Aunt Agatha would depart for New York, taking with her Josephine’s last link to her past. She would be left alone in her new life, thrown completely on her own resources to make her way in this dangerous and unfamiliar world. Just as this thought crossed her mind, Andrew squeezed her hand back, bringing her back to the realization that she would not be completely alone. She would have him to guide and comfort her, as well as his parents, his brother, and the wider community. She felt quite certain she could win them over to helping her settle in and make herself useful. No one would tell her she wasn’t being ladylike enough. No one would chastise her for getting her hands dirty. And no one would expect her to leave the daily work of living and functioning in the world to servants. She knew the Stockton’s employed no servants. Ben Hancock, the hired man, was their only employee. In his management of the ranch, Andrew hoped to keep it that way, so everyone would appreciate Josephine doing as much for herself as possible. She could help Mrs. Stockton to keep the house, and she could undoubtedly find other ways to contribute in any small way to the economy of the ranch.

These thoughts replaced, in Josephine’s mind, the stock formula of the parson’s service. She committed herself to that vision of life on the ranch, in which she threw her shoulder against the wheel of the ranch and pushed it forward with her strength along with the rest of the family. When she said, “I do,” she promised this, both to herself and to everyone else in the room. She vowed allegiance to the Stockton family as a whole, not just to Andrew. She swore to dedicate her enormous zest for life to the cause of promoting this family in every facet of her life, from the cooking of food to the bearing of children. If she could keep this vision before her eyes at all times, she could overcome any obstacle.

Before she knew what was happening, the parson concluded his office by pronouncing Andrew and Josephine man and wife. Behind her, Josephine heard both Aunt Agatha and Mrs. Stockton sniffing their tears away. Then she heard a male blowing his nose into a handkerchief and knew Mr. Stockton was crying as well. Andrew turned to face her and gently lifted her veil. When the mystical barrier departed from her vision and she beheld her new husband before her, she felt the first sting of tears in her eyes. The liquid welling up almost blotted out her vision again, but she blinked them away and focused on Andrew’s sharp eyes peering closely at her. His usual merry twinkle of amusement made her laugh. He pulled her to him and kissed her decisively. He drew away for a moment to lock eyes with her again. Josephine saw the beaming radiance her Aunt Agatha mentioned, and she knew her own face radiated the same ecstatic happiness. Andrew caught her by the hand and pulled her in again, giving her a loud playful smack on the lips that sent everyone into guffaws of laughter.

The laughter broke the spell of religious piety, and the whole party walked to the dining room in a casual tumult of conversation, jokes, and camaraderie. As Josephine predicted, the Stockton’s dining room table groaned with food, and with the end of the wedding service, her appetite returned in full force. The whole company enjoyed a hearty brunch, milling around the table, talking and laughing. Through it all, Andrew and Josephine held each other by the hand, accepting the congratulations and compliments of each person present. Finally, the parson took his leave and Tim mentioned that he would go collect Josephine’s luggage from the hotel.

“I’ll go with him, my dear,” Aunt Agatha declared. “I’ll stay at the hotel until it’s time for my train to leave.”

At that, Josephine collapsed completely into tears. “Do you have to go?” she wailed, although she knew the question was pointless. She clutched her aunt’s hand and embraced her repeatedly, all the while clinging to Andrew’s hand in the hope that he would understand her feelings and not take offense at her apparent reluctance to be left alone with him. But he stroked her hand in return with his fingers and shook away his own tears as the two women kissed each other and walked Aunt Agatha outside.

At no other time did Josephine experience such nostalgic pain for the past she left behind than when Aunt Agatha drove away with Tim, leaving her alone with her new husband and parents-in-law. Then Josephine felt the yawning chasm separating her from her own family and the home of her childhood. Only then did she fully understand that, after Aunt Agatha departed on the train, she would almost certainly never see any of her own relatives again as long as she lived. They would never make the arduous trip to visit her, they would never see her children or participate in their upbringing, and she would be lucky to maintain a correspondence with them by mail. She would be lucky to receive news when her father or Aunt Agatha died, and she wouldn’t be able to travel back East to spend any time with her family in their bereavement. They would cease to be real to her, for all practical purposes. Only the Stockton’s, their immediate neighbors, and any children she and Andrew had would be real to her. If Timothy eventually married and his bride joined their family on the ranch, their children would also be part of her circle of reality. But her family in New York no longer existed for her.

Josephine buried her face in her handkerchief and sobbed unreservedly after the gig passed around a corner of the driveway and out of sight, bearing Aunt Agatha out of her life. She would see her once more, when she departed by train. Andrew waited patiently for her tears to subside. Eventually, she blew her nose and wiped her eyes and smiled at him, ready to re-enter the house and begin her new life.

A week later, Andrew and Josephine escorted Aunt Agatha to the train station and deposited her in her compartment for the return trip to New York. Josephine chatted with her aunt as she checked out of the hotel, to the great relief of the desk clerk, and Andrew carried her valise across the street and into the car, where he stowed it in a locker under the seat. Josephine twittered merrily about the appointments of the compartment and the deportment of the conductors. Only when Aunt Agatha enthroned herself in the seat, ready to depart, and Josephine prepared herself to take her final leave of her aunt did she experience the grief she suppressed so successfully during the morning.

Aunt Agatha frowned at her quivering lower lip and tearful eyes. “Now, dear, you must pull yourself together. We shall write to one another and tell one another all about our lives. We must stay in touch as if we lived in the same town.”

“Oh, Aunt Agatha, I will try!” Josephine wailed.

“Now, stop that at once!” Aunt Agatha fumed, putting on her best show of composure. “We mustn’t make a scene in public! What would the conductor say if he saw you?”

“He would say I’m bidding good-bye to my most excellent Aunt,” Josephine sobbed. “You’ve been so staunch for me these last weeks. I don’t know how I will get along without you.”

“Fiddlesticks!” Aunt Agatha snapped. “You have a fine husband here, and a fine family, and they will take very good care of you, I’m sure. Won’t you?” She addressed this last comment to Andrew.

“Of course, I will,” Andrew assured her, taking Josephine by the hand.

“I know they will,” Josephine lamented. “But I do grieve at losing you.”

“You’re not losing me,” Aunt Agatha retorted. “I’m going back to New York, but it’s not as though I’m dying or something. We will continue to be a part of one another’s lives. Who knows? I may even get a chance to come and visit you again
some day.”

“Do you think so?” Josephine cried.

“Of course!” Aunt Agatha attested. “I told you that I have my own money and that I’m free to come and go as I wish. Now that you and your siblings are grown and going your own ways, I’m more free than ever before to travel about the country as I like. You must keep me informed if you have any children, or if I might help you in any other way. I would come at once, if you sent for me.”

“Oh, I can only hope so!” Josephine tried to stem the flow of her tears, but to no avail.

“Now, there’s the parting whistle,” Aunt Agatha pointed out. “You two had better get off this train, if you don’t want to travel all the way to St. Louis with me. Off you go! Now, you take care of my girl, Andrew. I’m counting on you.”

“Don’t worry, Aunt Agatha,” Andrew snickered. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Aunt Agatha humphed one final time as she shoved the newlyweds off the train.

Josephine stood on the platform, holding Andrew’s hand, while the engine slowly chugged out of the station. She waved to the passing windows of the sleeping car, but the tears in her eyes prevented her from seeing Aunt Agatha’s face one last time as she passed. Faster and faster, the wheels of the engine turned, carrying Aunt Agatha away from her, until the deafening shriek of the engine’s whistle pierced the air like the cry of a wounded animal. The noise stabbed at Josephine’s heart and she wept unreservedly into Andrew’s chest. She experienced as much wrenching sadness as if her aunt
had
died, but in this culmination of the events of the preceding days, she comprehended that it was she, Josephine Parker, who was dying. Her body melted around the central core of her being, swirling in a matrix of unidentifiable mortality, morphing and modifying out of any recognizable form and leaving the solid granite of her heart and soul behind. The quagmire of her variable outer self hadn’t yet reorganized into her new individuality, and she floated in a sea of uncertainty, unsure where she would land.

Josephine woke up early, leaving Andrew asleep in their bed in their room at the top of the house while she washed her face and hands at the washstand and laid out her dress for the day’s work. She threw up the sash of the window and breathed the fresh summer breeze rustling the grass outside and bathing the whole ranch in the gentle sound of waves washing the sea shore. She loved the earliest morning hours best of the whole day. The wind blew through the window, airing out the room and soothing her face. Behind her, Andrew stirred in the bed and rolled over. “You awake there, Josie?” he muttered.

“I’m here,” she left the window and sat on the edge of the bed. He stretched under the quilt and put out his hand to touch her.

“You’re awake early,” he remarked.

“The sun’s already up,” she informed him.

He stretched again, groaning loudly. “I better get up then. We’ll be starting out on the cattle drive today.” He sat up in the bed, and the quilt fell down to his waist, revealing his bare torso still adorned with a big white square of bandage covering his upper chest to his collar bone. “I’ll be gone for a week at least.”

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were leaving so soon!” she exclaimed.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, cradling his injured arm against his body to prevent moving it too much.

“Will you be fit enough to go out?” she inquired.

“Actually, that’s something I want to talk to you about,” he declared as he crossed the room to the wash stand. “I won’t be able to do much, if anything. I’m going along as a token manager, you might say. And the herd is too big for Tim and Ben to manage by themselves. We need one more person to ride along and help out.”

“What did you have in mind?” she narrowed her eyes at him, but she already had a good idea what he would suggest.

“Why don’t you come along?” he offered. “You can ride Big Bad Bill. You know you do well with him, and you’re a good rider.”

“You mean, when I’m not wearing a dress,” she corrected.

“That’s right,” he conceded. “But I’ll be there. You’ll be doing it with the full approval and supervision of your husband, if anyone asks—which they won’t.”

“But I told your mother I would help her with the laundry,” Josephine foundered for an excuse to dismiss his suggestion. “She has a lot to do. I promised I would help her.”

“This is much more important than the laundry,” he declared. “She can manage the laundry without you. She’s been doing it for years. It’s nice of you to offer to help her, but if you want to help out, coming out and helping with the cattle drive will be much more helpful. I’m sure she’ll tell you the same thing.”

“But what will I wear?” she pointed out. “The clothes you gave me last time were way too big. I can’t go out in those. And that hat! I wouldn’t be caught dead in that again!”

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to,” he laughed. “That’s why I got you these.” He pulled a large rectangular box out from under the bed.

“What’s this?” she started.

“I got something for you from town,” he admitted.

“When did you go to town?” she interrogated him. “You haven’t left the ranch since we took Aunt Agatha to the train.”

“I sent Ben to town to pick it up for me,” he confessed. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I’m surprised, alright!” she told him. “I’m more surprised by this than by your suggestion that I help out with the cattle drive. I’m almost afraid to open it.”

“Open it,” he prompted. “You aren’t committing yourself to anything by opening it. It’s a gift from me, and I would be offended if you didn’t open it. If you don’t want to use it, you don’t have to, but at least open it. That’s all I ask.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll do it for you, because I love you and I wouldn’t want you to be hurt if I didn’t. But don’t get the idea that I’m coming out with you. That’s a bit too much for me.”

“Of course not,” he deferred. “I promise.”

While Andrew dressed, she laid the box on top of the quilt on the bed and opened it. Inside, she found a new pair of canvas trousers, a plaid flannel shirt, a leather belt, and a pair of new rawhide boots. The clothing formed a complete set of cattle puncher’s attire—a man’s attire. Although she appreciated the thought Andrew put into the gift, as well as the fact that he intended the clothes to serve as a compliment to her, she thought she couldn’t overcome the stigma of dressing like a man and engaging in a man’s work. She still considered her first experiment with wearing trousers and riding Billy astride a one-time aberration, not to be repeated in her lifetime.  “I can’t wear these. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Why not?” he demanded. “I thought you did really well last time.”

“Last time?” she repeated. “Last time you got shot. If I hadn’t been there, you probably would have been killed. I never meant for there to be a next time. I only did it once, and I don’t want to do it again.”

“Why not?” he insisted again. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I’m a woman,” she stated. “These are men’s clothes.”

“So what?” he persisted.

“So…I can’t, that’s all,” she maintained. “I just can’t. It isn’t done.”

He smacked his lips in exasperation. “Look, I understand what you’re saying, and I’m sure there are lots of people who would disapprove of me encouraging you to do this. But the fact is that we need you out there. You’re a good rider, you can ride Billy well enough, and we’ve been short-handed since Paul died. With me being injured, we’re doubly short-handed. We would have to hire in at least one other person to drive the cattle down to the sale yards, and that’s five dollars a day, minimum. We just don’t have that kind of money. To do the job properly, we’d have to hire two people. We need you. There’s no one else to do it. If anyone finds out, I’ll explain the situation to them, and I’m your husband. We can tell them I ordered you to do it.”

“Yeah, right!” she guffawed.

“Seriously, Josie,” he declared. “This is important. This cattle drive is the most critical part of our annual operation, and we can’t do it without you. Please, I’m begging you. Come out with us. Please.”

“But I don’t know how,” she complained. “I don’t know the first thing about herding cattle.”

“You’ll learn quick enough,” he stated. “It isn’t difficult. Heck, Billy will show you what to do. He knows everything there is to know about herding.”

“I’ll bet he does,” she grumbled.

“I mean it,” he reiterated. “A horse does most of the work of herding himself. It comes naturally to them, and the cattle are used to being herded by horses. You just watch Ben and Tim and me, and you’ll get the hang of it in no time. Come on. You’ll enjoy it, and we can’t do without you.”

She flew to him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. “Okay, since you insist. I’ll do it for you. Just do me a favor and explain the situation to your parents and to Tim and Ben, so they won’t be too shocked when they see me.”

“I already have,” he revealed. “I told them all last night that I planned to ask you. They’re all expecting you to come out, and they’re all grateful that we have you to fill in.”

She examined the contents of the box again, more closely this time. Slowly and hesitantly, she dressed herself in the clothes and boots and threaded the belt through the loops of the trousers. Everything fitted her perfectly, and she scrutinized herself in the looking glass above the wardrobe. “I guess it’s not too bad,” she decided.

“There’s just one thing missing,” Andrew declared. He took another box out from under the bed, but this time, he opened it himself and took out a new Stetson hat. He handed it to her. “This should fit you better.”

“My hair won’t fit underneath it,” she murmured, turning the hat over in her hands as she admired the pressed felt and satin ribbon.

“Leave it down,” he instructed her. “We aren’t trying to hide you anymore. No one’s looking anyway.”

She continued to stare down at the hat. “You’ll forgive me, won’t you, if I don’t put this on until we get outside?”

He enfolded her in his arms and kissed her. “Of course.”

They went downstairs to breakfast. Josephine hesitated to show herself in the dining room for fear of the family’s reaction to her attire. She expected her appearance to spark at least some conversation, but to her surprise, no one paid her the slightest notice. Mrs. Stockton scurried back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, putting breakfast on the table. She smiled warmly at Josephine in exactly the same way she smiled at her daughter-in-law every other morning since the wedding, but she didn’t interrupt her work. Tim joined them and, as usual, passed the whole meal in silence. Josephine placed her hat on the table next to her plate, the same way she observed Andrew and Tim doing. Despite her awkward confusion over her own alteration, the family treated her presentation as a trail rider as though it was the most natural occurrence in the world. She supposed Andrew must have prepared them very well, and she wondered what he said to them about it. She wondered if he told them she wore trousers and rode astride once before. She marveled at the drastic difference in attitude to such rigid social roles between the Stockton’s and her own family. Regardless of her encouragement to Josephine to break the bonds of convention and seek a new destiny for herself, Aunt Agatha would never countenance such a radical departure from normal standards of deportment as this, and Josephine thanked Heaven her father would never find out. She couldn’t bear to think of his response to the idea of a woman in men’s clothing, riding a horse to do a man’s work.

Josephine peeked at everyone around the breakfast table as they ate, but none of them showed any sign of unease or embarrassment. They ate their eggs and toast, and then the three cattle punchers rose from the table to go outside. When Andrew and Tim left the room, Josephine snuck away to the kitchen, where she cornered her mother-in-law.

“I’m sorry I won’t be able to help you with the laundry today,” she began. “Andrew wants me to go out with him and help with the cattle drive. He says it’s more important, and he says they’re short-handed and need me to go along.”

“That’s alright, dear,” Mrs. Stockton answered. “He explained it all to me last night. You go on along. I can handle the laundry by myself.”

“I just feel terrible that I promised you I would help and now I’m breaking my word,” Josephine complained.

“Nonsense, my dear!” Mrs. Stockton assured her. “Andrew is right. The cattle drive is much more important, and they need another pair of hands, now that Andrew is injured. If you can do the work, and we can avoid hiring someone, then by all means, go out.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Josephine insisted.

“Of course!” Mrs. Stockton repeated. “I wish I could go, but I’m not a good enough rider. Andrew has asked me a dozen times.”

“I was so looking forward to working with you today,” Josephine mourned. “There are so many things I want to talk to you about.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mrs. Stockton laughed. “You’ll just have to talk to me about them next time. Don’t worry. There will always be more laundry to do. You may depend on that!”

“I feel ridiculous wearing these clothes,” Josephine finally admitted.

Mrs. Stockton’s eyes flew open wide. “Why? You look perfectly normal for someone on their way out to drive cattle.”

“But these are a man’s clothes,” Josephine pointed out.

“No, they’re not,” Mrs. Stockton countered. “They’re work clothes. Anyone doing that work would have to dress like this. It’s just that the work is usually done by men, but not always. I understand you’re not used to this sort of thing, coming from New York, but things work a little bit differently out here. What matters is that the work gets done. It’s not so important who does it. Some of these jobs are a matter of life and death on the frontier. Take this cattle drive, for example. All our income for the whole year comes from the sale of our stock at the yards. If we don’t get them there in time, that’s a year’s income gone. Andrew was quite in despair about it before he hit on the idea of taking you along. You should have seen him last night when he explained to us that he wanted you to help out. He was beside himself with delight at the idea.”

“I didn’t realize the work was as important as that,” Josephine marveled.

“And the money we would have to spend to hire the men to do the job,” Mrs. Stockton contended. “We would hardly have anything left over, after we paid them their wages. We’re all very grateful to you for going out.”

“I only hope I can do the work well enough to justify your faith in me,” Josephine observed.

“I’m sure you will,” Mrs. Stockton asserted. “Andrew said you were a good rider, and his horse Billy is so easy to handle, I’m sure you’ll get along fine.”

“That’s what Andrew told me, too,” Josephine related.

“Of course, you will,” Mrs. Stockton concluded. “Now you better get out there. They’ll be waiting for you out front.”

“Thank you so much for putting my mind at rest,” Josephine pressed her hand.

“Why, whatever for?” Mrs. Stockton gasped.

“I just didn’t feel comfortable showing myself in these clothes,” Josephine confessed. “I thought you’d think me unseemly.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Mrs. Stockton repeated. “You look perfectly normal.”