by Lash Laramie
Prudence Wilson poked her head out of the open window of the Pullman car and looked down the length of the track. The conductor had finally announced her destination and she could now see the station approaching. Her heart was racing with excitement. It had been a long journey to this prairie town in the Oklahoma Territory. She had come all the way from Brisbane, in Queensland, Australia ... half way around the world!
Shielding her eyes, she tried to pick out her uncle and his family on the approaching platform. Her efforts were frustrated by a firm male hand which gripped her by the shoulder and pulled her back into her seat.
"I believe your father would be quite perturbed with me if I returned you to him with a telegraph pole embedded in your forehead, Prudence," the man said.
"We're almost there, Mr. Turner. Isn't it incredible?" she exclaimed, ignoring the scolding. "I can't believe we've traveled halfway around the globe."
Cyrus Turner removed his wire-framed spectacles and began wiping the lenses with a large white handkerchief. He was a business partner and close personal friend of her father, William Wilson. He had business to attend to in New York City and had agreed to chaperone Prudence to her destination before continuing on his way to New York.
"It's 1890, Prudence," he said. "The world gets to be a smaller place every year. Soon it will be a new century. Who knows what wonders it might hold?"
Prudence felt her pulse quicken with each turn of the locomotive's drive wheels. She thought she must be the luckiest girl alive to be having such an incredible adventure.
It was the beginning of her eighteenth summer and she had blossomed into a very attractive, young woman. She was tall as girls went, nearly five-foot-seven the last time her father had made the pencil mark on her bedroom door and checked it with a measuring tape. Blessed from birth with her mother's thick chestnut brown hair and her father's blue eyes, she had more recently developed the curvaceous figure of a young woman. It was a great relief to her after spending her adolescence as a thin, gangly, uncommonly tall girl.
She had secretly taken great pleasure in the appreciative glances she had noticed from several young men during her long journey. Of course, Mr. Turner had glowered at them and they had all hastily retreated.
The whole wondrous odyssey had come about as a sort of graduation present from her parents. She had long begged them for the chance to go visit her American relations. Her father had finally agreed to finance the venture upon satisfactory completion of her schooling.
Her Uncle John was her father's younger brother. Both men had been born in England but had gone abroad to seek their fortunes, her own father to Australia and his brother John to the ever expanding America. She looked forward to meeting them finally.
Thus far, she only knew them from their correspondences and a few old photographs. In addition to her uncle there was Aunt Jenny, and her cousin Patricia. Uncle John also had two boys, Frank and Robert, but they were grown and had both gone off to California to seek their own fortunes. In truth, it was Patricia that Prudence was really excited about meeting. They had been writing to one another since they were both six years old. Although they had never actually met, she had always sensed a kindred spirit in her American cousin.
As the train pulled into the station with a shrill blast of its whistle, Prudence could see them standing on the platform. There they were, her uncle, aunt and cousin all dressed in their Sunday best. Once the train came to a stop, her chaperone escorted her to her waiting relatives. Mr. Tuner approached John Wilson and offered his hand.
"Mr. John Wilson I presume," he said, formally.
John Wilson took the offered hand in a firm grip.
"Yes, I'm John Wilson. I'm pleased to meet you. It's Mr. Turner isn't it?"
"Yes, Cyrus Turner at your service, sir. Allow me to present your niece, Miss. Prudence Wilson," he said.
John Wilson bowed slightly to his niece. "Prudence, you've grown into a fine young lady," he said.
"Thank you, Uncle John," she replied, with a curtsy. Uncle John took over the introductions.
"Prudence, this is your Aunt Jenny," he said, indicating his wife.
Prudence embraced her aunt and kissed her on the cheek. "It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Aunt Jenny," she said.
Her aunt returned the kiss. "We're thrilled to have you here, dear," she said.
"And this is your cousin Patricia," said John Wilson, indicating his daughter.
The two teenagers embraced and kissed each other on the cheek. "Oh Patricia, this is such a thrill for me," said Prudence.
"I feel the same way, Prudence. I'm so glad you've finally arrived safe and sound," said Patricia. "It seemed like you'd never get here."
Prudence noted that her aunt and uncle looked much as they had in the last photo they had sent over two years earlier. However, Patricia, like herself, had done a good deal of growing. She had beautiful golden hair like her mother and emerald green eyes. The black and white photographs had not done her justice at all. They didn't quite stand eye to eye, as Patricia was perhaps an inch shorter than Prudence, but she was also a little better filled out. Prudence suspected that her cousin was getting those certain looks from the boys now as well. She couldn't wait to get her alone so they could talk of such things.
The rigors of Victorian protocol having been dispensed with, Mr. Turner bade them farewell. "Well then, I will leave Prudence in your capable hands," he said. "I must continue on to New York. I will telegraph when I begin my return trip."
John Wilson offered his hand again. "It was good meeting you, Mr. Turner. We wish you every success in New York," he said.
The two men shook hands again. "Prudence, I trust you will be on your very best behavior," said Mr. Turner.
"Yes, sir. I will," she assured him. The train whistle blew its shrill note again.
"All aboard," called the conductor.
Mr. Turner hopped back on to the train. The Wilson's all waved good bye to him from the platform.
The porters had loaded Prudence's two steamer trunks onto a buck-board wagon driven by one of John Wilson's ranch hands, but the Wilson's themselves had arrived in an attractive fringe-top, Surrey carriage and it was to this conveyance that her uncle directed her. She was soon settled into the rear seat with her Cousin Patricia at her side.
With a crack of her uncle's buggy whip, they set off down a long road through green rolling hills toward the Wilson ranch. It was a long ride, but the weather was pleasant and Prudence was engaged in animated conversation with Patricia the whole way. They spoke of school and fashions and of their other friends and giggled at each others accents. As they neared the ranch, Prudence noticed several mounted men in broad brimmed hats in the distance herding some horses across a field.
"Are those your drovers, Uncle John?" she asked.
"Yes, only here we call them cowboys," he said.
Prudence thought it an amusing name but then many things were different here and she looked forward getting used to it all.
The Wilson house turned out to be a large, wood structure, painted white and surrounded by a white picket fence. It was both larger and more elaborate than she had expected here in the wild country.
On entering, she saw that the furnishings were simpler than she was accustomed to, but it still looked quite comfortable. Mr. Wilson excused himself to attend to some ranch business and Mrs. Wilson ushered the two younger girls into the kitchen where she prepared a snack and engaged in girl talk with her niece and daughter. Prudence liked her Aunt Jenny immediately. She was obviously a warm and caring woman and was somewhat less reserved than her own mother. Very soon the food prepared by Aunt Jenny was gone.
Mrs. Wilson cleared the plates away to the sink and then dried her hands on her apron, before turning her attention on the two teenagers. "Well Trish, you might as well take Prudence up to your room and get her settled in. I'm sure you two still have plenty to talk about, but I have chores to get to," she said.
"Yes, ma'am," said Patricia.
Prudence followed her cousin up the stairs to a large, sunny bedroom. Again Prudence noted that the furnishings were simple but comfortable enough. There was a large four-poster bed with a hope-chest at its foot, a window seat, a rocking chair, a large armoire, and a vanity table with a mirror. Her own trunks had also been delivered and were stacked against one wall.
"We'll have to share the bed," said Patricia. "I hope that's all right."
Prudence eyed the bed again. "Oh it looks quite large enough. I'm sure I'll be comfortable," she said.
"I sure wish you'd call me Trish. Everyone here does," said Patricia.
"Very well, Trish, you may call me Prue then. That's what they call me back at home."
"Then Prue it is."
Prudence went to the window to examine the view. She could see a large structure that was obviously some form of stable and a windmill in the distance. Closer to the house she noticed a sort of long low shack the purpose of which she could not determine.
"What's that little shack close to the house for?" she asked her cousin.
"Oh that's just the woodshed. We keep fire wood in there," explained Trish. "Don't they have woodsheds in Australia?"
"Not in the city. Our fire wood is delivered on a wagon a few times a week, so we don't have to store much. We mostly use coal burning stoves for heat," explained Prue.
"Well you're lucky. There are times I wish we didn't have one."
"Really, why is that?" inquired Prue.
"It just gives me the willies sometimes seeing it," said Trish.
"Why?" teased Prue. "Are there spiders and other scary things in there?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, there are, but that's not why it scares me."
Prue gave her cousin a quizzical look. "What is it then? You've made me curious I'm afraid."
"Oh it's not a secret I guess. It's just that's where Pa takes me when I'm in fur a lickin' with the strop," said Trish, matter-of-factly.
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