by Jocelyn Cross
Frightened beyond any reasonable description, the young woman stood quivering fearfully in an upstairs room of a dingy hotel in Amargo, Texas. The man she had married just a few scant hours earlier had gone out to the balcony in response to the shouts, yells, horrible noises and gun shots that had erupted just beyond the window of their room.
She was already scared about the situation in which she had found herself immersed only moments before. The young woman had married the man a few hours earlier ... marrying him less than an hour after meeting him in person. She had traveled for days from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to the hot, dusty town of Amargo, Texas with the express purpose of marrying a man whom she had met and who subsequently proposed to her through the mail.
She was frightened for what she had thought was to come next: a wedding night and the conjugal duties of a new wife; a new wife who had been raised substantially without the benefit of a mother, and whose preparations for her marital responsibilities had been handled by a nun ... a nun whom she knew had adhered to her vow of chastity and whose advice had seemed woefully simplistic when given, and now clearly totally inadequate as the young woman awaited the return of the rough and tumble cowboy who was her new husband.
Two more gunshots rang out amidst the din of the crowd and the woman pressed her hands to her ears as she quaked in fear. Would her new husband survive the night? And if he did return, could she be the wife he was expecting?
Martha Anderson was one thousands of sad statistics of the Battle of Gettysburg during the American Civil War; a battle that lasted three long days. Martha and her parents lived on a farm nearby and on the first dreadful blast of Confederate artillery their modest farm house was blown to bits. Martha and her parents had been hiding in the root cellar but that proved to be inadequate: both of her parents were killed instantly and the then 10 year old Martha was struck by shrapnel and knocked unconscious.
Martha lay beneath the rubble for three days before being discovered. A kindly Union doctor tended to her wounds. Fortunately, only a long jagged scar from the shrapnel would remain on her back just below her right shoulder and the effects of being knocked unconscious were temporary. The biggest wounds, however, could not be cured: her parents were dead.
The ten year old was passed from local family to family as she had no relatives to take her in. Eventually, Martha ended up in an orphanage where she remained until she turned 18 years old. It was a difficult existence living in an all-girls orphanage for eight years. The nuns who ran it were strict but not cruel and they taught the girls and young women practical skills they would need in the real world: how to cook, sew and even some basic reading skills. Martha felt especially close to a nun who acted more like a sister to her than a mentor. Sister Mary-Margaret had a heartfelt and kindly demeanor, very much unlike most of the other nuns who worked at the orphanage as if it were a distasteful duty.
When the young ladies turned 18 years old, they were moved to a place called 'Miss Manners Academy'. It wasn't a place of learning. It was a matrimonial agency. The former orphans needed a place in society, but in the Civil War ravaged Eastern United States, there were far too many women compared to the number of men, so Miss Manners offered the orphans an opportunity for a real and fulfilling life.
Thus, on her 18th birthday in 1873, Martha Anderson matriculated to Miss Manners Academy where she spent time honing her home-keeping skills and writing letters to interested men in the western territories. Sister Mary-Margaret stepped in to counsel Martha frequently about things Miss Manners Academy did not address, mostly about things a young woman should know when getting married. Students of the Academy were highly motivated to make a connection as they had only 12 months to find a prospective husband or, on their 19th birthday, they were moved out of the Academy and had to fend for themselves. As long as the days and weeks seemed during her life in the orphanage, time seemed to fairly fly by at the Academy. Martha felt the pressure of each passing day and worried she may end up on the street on her next birthday.
Martha worked hard from the first day and before long she had a series of correspondences with several men across the West. One man was a particular favorite of hers: a fairly young rancher in west Texas who penned florid letters that painted a beautiful picture of his ranch and the surrounding area. Then one day, this young man agreed to marry Martha, sight unseen, and to meet the requirements of Miss Manners Academy. He signed their contract agreeing to marry Martha within ten days of her arrival and to pay, in advance, her travel expenses (plus 20% for the Academy.)
It was one of the many red letter days at Miss Manners Academy, and Martha Anderson quickly found herself put onto the next railroad car headed west towards Texas. She was excited about her prospects, but a little worried too. However, she was more excited because the man who had become her favorite was the man who wanted her! Despite leaving her best friend in the world, Sister Mary-Margaret, Martha was thrilled to be off on the next adventure of her life and not just a little relieved to have avoided the shameful boot to the street that would have occurred in just three more weeks!
Kade Quinlan was the 26 year old rancher who was now expectantly waiting for the arrival of Miss Martha Anderson. Kade was a cowboy who had scrimped and saved to buy a little spread south of Amargo, Texas near Cotton Canyon. His little ranch was highly leveraged with a loan from the local bank, but everyone in town knew what prime real estate Kade had purchased and they all knew ... they just knew ... he'd be successful.
He was a prudent young man and the few women in town had all tried unsuccessfully to snag his interest. Kade was broad shouldered from a lifetime of ranching and working cattle, was affable and polite, and had a ruggedly handsome face despite his mere 26 years of age. But none of the local women who were available interested him as they all seemed to have various faults: most of which revolved around the fact that they generally worked for one saloon or another.
Even some of the local married women had tried to flirt their way into Kade's bed, but he would have none of that! He was a good and kind-hearted man who was firm in his belief that one did not fool around with another man's wife. Even though he made sure these women knew he could not be tempted, he managed to do so in a kind and caring manner.
Despite this, one or two husbands did not like the way their wives had been drawn towards Kade and they had the temerity to suggest that it was Kade's fault. Kade politely, but firmly, explained to each that he had not led their wife on and that he had no interest in becoming involved with a married woman. One man called Kade a liar and another thought Kade was demeaning the man's wife. On these separate occasions, the men tried to punch Kade and each was rewarded with a few moments of unconsciousness. Kade Quinlan was a rough and tumble sort when riled and the jaw breaking blow each man suffered as a result of their provocations was proof that one did not mess with, nor try to provoke, Mr. Kade Quinlan.
Through a series of transfers, Martha finally arrived in the dusty town of Amargo, Texas. She had no illusions that Kade would be waiting to pick her up as he had informed her of the arrangements he had made for her to stay at the lone hotel in town. With her small tote bag in hand, she made her way to the hotel, checked in and looked wistfully out the window of her room.
Amargo, Texas was the furthest she could imagine being from anywhere in Pennsylvania. Long gone were the lush rolling hills and tall trees of the Pennsylvania countryside. Instead, the area around Amargo seemed dull, dusty and devoid of any significant vegetation. Similarly, the low ramshackle buildings lacked the vibrancy of the city of Philadelphia though each city had its own areas of squalor.
It's just different, Martha kept reminding herself. But those differences served to heighten the anxiety of her pending marriage to a man she knew only through letters. Her mantra of It's just different, was soon frequently followed by the question, What have I done?
In an effort to quell her growing anxiety, Martha went down the stairs of the small hotel and went outside to take a walk. In a way, the walk eased her nerves as she discovered hot and dusty Amargo was much like any other town: people had things to do, seemed fairly civilized, and, happily, were much friendlier on the whole than the folks she had known back East. Gentlemen all touched the brims of their cowboy hats in greeting, uttering a polite, though terse, "Ma'am." Even the rare female who passed would smile and offer her a friendly, "Good Afternoon."
Martha also garnered some unwanted attention, though it would be difficult to lay the blame entirely at the feet of the few gentlemen who tried to draw her into awkward conversation. Not only were women fairly scarce around these parts, Martha was an uncommon beauty to boot. Her long brown hair was vibrant in the hot Amargo sun as it bounced with every step she took. She also benefited from a figure of which even the most bawdy dance hall girl would be envious. Physical attributes other than her hair jiggled and bounced with her steps in the most alluring way; attributes that were noticed by men and women alike.
She wasn't looking to attract attention, but attention was drawn to her with every step.
As the sun dipped lower in the late afternoon sky, Martha was completing her wander around town and stepped into the hotel.
"I sent my son out to Kade's ranch as soon as you arrived, Miss Anderson," the hotel owner said by way of greeting. "I expect Kade will be out here straight away."
Martha gave the man a dazzling smile. "That was very kind of you. Thank you." She beamed in his direction, causing the man to blush furiously. "Perhaps I should plan on a late supper just in case Mr. Quinlan makes his way into town tonight."
As the hotel owner gushed and fawned over Miss Anderson, his wife watched with noticeable disapproval. Her face said it all: What kind of young lady traipses across the country to marry a man she hasn't even met? But the wife was also a grudgingly hospitable hostess so with a suitable smile she suggested, "Why don't you go into the dining room, dear? I've just made a batch of lemonade and I'll pour you a glass."
"Thank you, that's very thoughtful," agreed Martha as she turned to the dining room. And, it was a good thought as Martha occupied a window table with a view of the street. The lemonade wasn't too sweet and the slight bite of the sour citrus perked up Martha's mood. She took slow, small sips of the tangy beverage as she watched life in Amargo go back and forth on the street.
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.