Orphan Brides Go West: The Complete Series Page 3

  “Nonsense. The only burden would be my worrying about you sleeping out in the street! Come now and I’ll show you my home and settle you in. My name’s Meredith Poke. And my husband Morty will be pleased to have you as well!”

  Dearest Candy:

  I know that I’ve been remiss in my correspondence. I promised to write you as soon as we got to California, so I know you will be worried about me. I’m writing now to let you know that I’m in Topeka, Kansas. We never made it to California as planned.

  I find that I can’t hold back the tears as I write this, so please forgive the smudges. Mam and Daddy are dead. They were killed by outlaws who held up and robbed our train. I disembarked alone in Topeka, and kindly strangers, Meredith Poke and her husband Morton, have taken me in and given me a place to stay.

  I’m sure you’re shocked at the news. I must admit that I’m finding it very hard to write down. We haven’t been able to hold a real funeral, since their bodies are being held by the Missouri State Police as part of their investigation into the incident. As it stands, I don’t know anyone in Topeka who would come to their funeral anyway. I couldn’t even make my way back to Philadelphia to put together a funeral - a thief stole their valuables and I have no money for a ticket. All I have to my name are my trunk of clothes, some of their mementos and my silly old stuffed bear. I suppose

  I’m sorry to lay all this at your feet, but I don’t have anyone else to talk to about it. Oh, how I wish you were here with me. I miss you so.

  The Pokes’ home is a cozy cottage in a growing part of town. The house, they tell me, is built from a pre-fabricated frame, as are so many of the homes in this area. They have given me their guest room. I have been here for three days now and feel most welcome. I don’t know how long I can stay, but I hope they will let me remain until I can sort out a way to access Mam and Daddy’s bank account so that I can get together the money to return home.

  After that, I have no idea what I will do. Perhaps I will teach after all. I’m sure I won’t be able to afford to move back into the house – it has likely been rented by a family by now. But I should be able to find some lodgings on a teacher’s wage, don’t you think?

  I feel completely alone in the world, as though the ground has been pulled out from beneath my feet and I am falling, falling … I’m so grateful that at least I can write to you about it. I know you will understand what I am feeling.

  Please, please, please write to me at the enclosed address. If I am not here, hopefully Meredith will forward your letters to me wherever I end up.

  Kindest regards,

  Christy

  Christy lay the quill down on the table blotter, sighed and wiped the moisture from her cheeks with a bunched-up white handkerchief. With a sniffle, she stood to her feet and folded the paper into an envelope. “Meredith?” she called.

  Meredith’s peeked around the kitchen door. Her apron was dusted with flour and she held a mixing bowl in her hands with the long handle of a wooden spoon jutting from it. “Yes, dear?”

  Christy reached for her coat and buttoned it over her green calico dress. She smoothed her hair and pinned on a hat. “I’m going to the post office. I have to stop by the bank as well, so I might be a while.”

  “All right, dear. Will you be home in time for supper?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry I won’t be here to help you prepare it, but I promise to clean up afterward.”

  “That’s fine, dear. I’ll see you then.”

  Christy hurried out, the letter in her coat pocket. Her boots slapped loudly against the hard earth, and the hem of her gown dusted the ground as she walked. Topeka was a bustling city, and she watched with interest as cowboys rode by on the backs of sturdy broncos and housewives bustled down sidewalks dragging unruly children in their wake. A covered wagon trundled by, kicking up dust with its spoked wheels and pulling a trotting mule along behind it.

  She mailed her letter at the main post office, then made her way to Topeka National Bank down the street. As she stepped from the boardwalk onto the road at a corner, her left foot landed in a muddy puddle. Water seeped through the laces of her boots, wetting her stockinged foot in an instant. She grimaced, leaped from the puddle and shook her foot, but the damage was done. She groaned and hurried into the bank.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” An obliging teller leaned forward and peered down at Christy over round spectacles. He smiled at her, taking in her curvaceous figure and fine features in a single glance.

  “Yes, thank you. I’d like to make a withdrawal, but the account I need to access is in Philadelphia. So I guess I may need to do a wire transfer first. I’m not really sure how all of this works.”

  “Of course, I can set that up for you. Do you have your account details?”

  “Yes, I do.” Christy pulled the paperwork she’d found in her father’s luggage from her coat pocket and handed it over.

  The teller quickly scribbled some notes, then handed the papers back. “Thank you, ma’am. This could take a few days, so how about you come back in then?”

  “All right, I’ll be by again in a few days.” Christy smiled at the teller, then headed back to the Pokes’ house.

  When she arrived, Meredith hurried to meet her at the door. “Oh Christy dear, I’m glad you’re home. A telegram came for you from Philadelphia while you were gone. I think it’s from that lawyer you were trying to reach.”

  Christy removed her coat and hat and took the paper Meredith held out for her. She read it quickly, sighed in relief and pressed the paper to her chest with a smile. “Thank you, Meredith. Yes, it is from Mr. Smythe. He says they have read Daddy’s will and he left everything to me. He’s going to coordinate with Daddy’s bank in Philadelphia to wire me some money via the bank here. Oh, this is good news. I knew it would happen, but to see it in writing is a relief.”

  Meredith beamed. “I’m so glad for you, my dear. I know it doesn’t help your grief, but at least you won’t be destitute.”

  “Well, I should have enough money to support myself for a little while. I’ll have to find work eventually, since Daddy’s money won’t last forever. Perhaps I should continue on to California like we’d planned – I know there are a lot of job opportunities out there. Or, maybe I should go back to Philly. I think that’s what I’d rather do – after all, my friends are there, even if I don’t have family there any longer.”

  “Well, let’s have a nice slice of chocolate cake tonight for dessert to celebrate small mercies.” Meredith patted Christy’s hand and walked back to the kitchen where she’d been mixing cake batter in a large wooden bowl.

  Christy followed her, drawing a deep breath through her nose. “Mmmm, that smells divine. What’s for dinner?”

  “Bacon, greens and cornbread.”

  Christy’s stomach growled loudly and she laughed. “Well, I guess I’m hungry. I’ll set the table.”

  5

  “I do hope my aunt and uncle in Ireland write back soon.” Christy remarked as she and Meredith strolled down the street to the bank.

  “I’m sure they were saddened to hear your news, my dear.”

  “I know Mam was close to Aunt Penny when they were younger, but we haven’t seen them in so many years. It’s been weeks since I wrote – surely there will be a letter today.”

  “Well, by the time we get home, no doubt the mail will have arrived at the house. We will see then.”

  The two women stepped into the bank through the arched stone doorway and walked across the cold floor and to where the teller was counting coins into a bag. He peered at them over his spectacles with a grin. “So I see that you’ve returned, Miss Hancock.”

  “Yes, sir. Have you received the wire transfer from the bank in Philadelphia? You said it would only take a few days and it’s been weeks …”

  “Well, there is unfortunately something of an issue there.” He stopped counting and pushed the bag to one side, giving them his full attention. “It seems there is another claim on your late
father’s estate.”

  “What? What does that mean?” Christy’s eyes widened and she tilted her head to the side, her red curls drooping across her shoulder.

  “It means that I can’t give you any money today. I’m sorry, Miss Hancock. I don’t know the particulars of the case, only that the bank in Philadelphia won’t release the funds because they’re disputed. You’ll have to contact your attorney to find out more, I’m afraid.”

  Christy faced Meredith, her face pale. “Oh dear. I wonder who it could be.”

  “Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. There’s nothing more we can do here – let’s go home and see if your lawyer has written. If not, you can always send him a wire.” Meredith looped her arm through Christy’s and led her from the building.

  Christy stared at the ground as they walked, her heart racing. What did it all mean? Was she destined to be left completely alone without a cent to her name? What would she do?

  Her mind numb, she stared at a passing stagecoach, watching it to the end of the street. There was a shiny new steam locomotive sitting dormant at the station, a cloud of mist billowing from its stack. It wasn’t long ago she had boarded a train just like that and her life had changed forever. The memory of it overwhelmed her, and she choked back the tears.

  Meredith looked at her with concern, squeezing her hand. “There, there, my dear. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding of some kind. After all, your parents had no other heirs, did they?”

  “None. I don’t know who could be claiming otherwise. It’s just that … I feel as though I’ve been forsaken – by my parents, my friends, perhaps even God. Everything is such a mess.”

  Meredith sighed and pulled Christy to her in an embrace. “God has not forsaken you, and your parents didn’t either. Have you tried praying about it?”

  Christy shook her head against Meredith’s shoulder and sniffled.

  “Well, maybe you should. This is all part of growing up, my dear. Sometimes we have to face hard things, and it might seem as though nothing is going our way. But these are the moments in life that shape us. How we react to trials and hardships tell us what we’re truly made of.”

  Christy lifted her head and nodded. Meredith handed her a clean handkerchief from a dress pocket, and Christy blew her nose into it, then offered it back.

  “No, thank you, dear – you can keep it.”

  “Thank you.” Christy tucked it into her sleeve and they continued down the street, arm in arm.

  When they reached the house, Christy ran to check the mailbox. She pulled several letters from it and flicked through them. One was addressed to her, and she held it up for Meredith to see. “From my lawyer!”

  “See, what did I tell you? Let’s find out what this kerfuffle is all about.”

  They bustled inside and Meredith began boiling water in the kettle for coffee. Christy sat at the dining table and placed the letter in front of her, staring at it until Meredith placed a steaming cup of coffee beside it. Christy reached for the cup, took a sip, and only then opened the letter:

  Sterling, Brite and Smythe, Attorneys at Law

  Suite 12, 102 Evans Road

  Philadelphia, PA

  Dear Miss Hancock,

  We are writing to inform you that there has been a claim made against the estate of your late father, Mr. Horace Hancock.

  When we telegrammed Mr. Hank and Mrs. Penelope Jones of Bangor, Ireland to let them know of your parents’ demise (at your father’s request), they responded immediately to claim that Mrs. Jones, as the sister and sister-in-law to the deceased, is the rightful heir to the estate. She claims also to be your guardian and insists that you return to Ireland to live with her and her husband.

  At this stage, the court has ordered the assets of the estate frozen until such time as said claim can be investigated. This means that you will not be able to access the funds or assets of the estate until the court has determined that they are rightfully yours.

  It is our belief, as your counsel, that the claim made is without merit. However, if the claimants decide to pursue the matter further, it may be some months before a decision is made.

  We will contact you as soon as we know more.

  Best regards,

  Harris Sterling and William Smythe

  Christy folded the letter and pushed it back into the envelope, her lips quivering. “Some months? How can I wait that long? I can’t … I haven’t got enough money for train fare home. And even if I did, where would I stay? Oh dear, what can I do?”

  Meredith patted Christy’s back, her lips tight. “I must say, it’s frightful that your own family would do this to you – leaving you out here all alone without a penny. And really, what makes them think they stand to inherit anything from your parents? It’s an affront, is what it is.”

  Christy had never heard Meredith get angry before, and she half-grinned through her tears. “Meredith … you’ve been so kind to me. And now I can’t repay you. I was hoping I’d be able to stay a little longer and pay board. But now I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, never you mind about board. You can stay here until you get yourself sorted out, my dear. Morty and I consider the help you give me around the house more than enough to compensate.”

  Christy embraced Meredith, her mind racing. She would have to stay with the Pokes a while longer, but she knew she couldn’t intrude on them forever. And the teacher’s exam cost more than she could afford, so that would have to wait too. It was time to form a new plan and fast.

  6

  June 1889

  The problem with being part of the Indian Territory land rush, Brent Taylor mused, was the timing. Couldn’t do spring planting when you didn’t get your acreage until the end of April.

  But then, he’d only ever planted a kitchen garden before, having been raised on a Kentucky horse ranch where breeding and selling steeds provided the family’s livelihood. It had cost him a lot of money to relocate and set up outside the new town of (snappy name here) Newton in the Indian Territory, which meant it would take more time – and money – to establish his own breeding program here.

  So he’d decided to try farming first. This year he was going to plant crops – several acres of short-season corn now, along with some cabbage, salad greens and chicory, and winter wheat and oats come autumn. He’d also invested in a dozen hens, so he’d have eggs for the time being. If all worked out, he could afford a small herd of beef cattle next year or the year after, and have fodder for them besides. Down the road, he could get back to raising horses.

  One advantage to the Oklahoma land rush, though, was that everyone was in the same pickle calendar-wise, so they all helped each other out. Two days ago, he’d been part of a barn-raising for his neighbor, Clive Harris. Now Clive was driving a pair of Clydesdales across his front meadow, plowing up the land for corn.

  Brent sprang down the steps of his new one-story ranch house and waved to Clive, then noticed the rest of the Harrises following behind him in an open wagon – including Kip, Clive’s teenage son, whom Brent often hired to help out around the ranch. Then another wagon filled with folks came into view and turned in at his gate, towing a second plow. What was going on?

  He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the rising morning sun and peered down the driveway. It was the Connellys, from the property directly west of his, and the Hattons from the south, closer to town. The three families waved, and he could hear a soft melody floating across the fields, as they sang their way up the winding drive. “Well, I’ll be darned.” He slapped his thighs as the wagons reached the house. “What in blazes is going on here?” he asked with a grin.

  “We heard some greenhorn was fixin’ to grow his first crop and we thought we’d better mosey on down and offer a hand.” Ed Connelly chewed a long piece of grass and squinted at Brent through small brown eyes. “Can’t have you killin’ yourself or your first crop, now can we?”

  “I sure do appreciate it.” Brent’s heart swelled as Mr. Hatton v
aulted from his wagon and the men helped the women and children from their wagon beds. “I’m awful sorry, but I wasn’t expecting so many of you. I haven’t a mite of food in the house.” He took his hat from his head and twisted it in his hands.

  “Never mind about that,” said Mary Connelly, smiling genially at him. “We’ve brought everything we need.” She lifted two large picnic baskets from the back of the wagon and handed them to her children to carry inside, then hauled out loaves of freshly baked bread wrapped in linens, jars of preserves and pickles and an assortment of other covered dishes.

  “Wow, that looks amazing. You folks are too kind.” Brent watched them all traipse into his house with full arms.

  “Leave the womenfolk to their business, Brent – let’s get you to plowin’,” Clive grinned and stepped back behind the plow handles.

  Brent nodded and mounted Patty to hurry ahead of the teams and show them where to go. He’d already plowed the fields once, and dark earth showed up through wisps of upturned grassroots. Birds dove and pecked at the grubs and worms making their way to the surface. The men quickly got to work, tilling the field in long straight lines, turning it over a second time to find the moist soil beneath. Kip and some of the older boys walked behind them, carrying the seed on their backs in large hessian shoulder bags. They tossed it into the furrows and kicked dirt over it.

  The warming sun kissed their limbs and they sang as they worked. Brent remembered what it felt like to be part of a family, and he missed his parents and Annabelle more than ever. He’d become accustomed the ache of loneliness. But now, with happy chatter and warm smiles all around him, he felt for a moment as though he weren’t alone in the world, and he liked the sensation.

  When the day’s work was done, Brent and the other men went inside to wash up for supper. They’d all picnicked outside for lunch, eating thick slices of cold beef and bread and drinking cool water drawn from the nearby creek. Brent was looking forward the last meal of the day, since he’d been smelling it all afternoon – the scent of good food had wafted out to the fields where they worked.