Wedding the Widow

Wedding the Widow

By Jane B Night

2014@ Jane B Night

Smashwords Edition

This is a copyrighted work. It may not be redistributed or reproduced without the permission of the copyright holder or their representative.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone who is living or dead is purely coincidental.

This book is dedicated to my daughters. They are my reason for writing. They inspire me every day and I would be nowhere without them.

Chapter 1

The sun was shining down on Charlotte's face where it wasn't hidden under her white bonnet. She could feel the heat from it and it warmed her skin.

Out of habit she reached a hand down to touch her belly. Her son or daughter was growing there. He or she was all that mattered and Charlotte had to focus on that.

Are you sure? Captain Martin asked pulling her from her thoughts. Was it possible to answer that question Charlotte wondered? Could anyone in her situation be truly sure of the life altering choice she was about to make?

I am, Charlotte said. It was the only answer she could give. She had resigned herself to her fate. The concern apparent in Captain Martin’s eyes could not dissuade her. She had her baby to think about now. Her baby would need a home and a father. Wilbur’s death the day before had left her with neither to give the child.

I know the Reverend of this town. We are old friends He may know if there is anyone suitable here. You know that you could continue on with us. The pain in his face made her heart ache. Captain Martin was a good man who reminded her of her father. His face had wrinkled and his hair had grayed. He was no longer a young man but he was a strong man. He was a man who had survived hardships.

I have no oxen or wagon. The words slipped from her lips in a whisper.

You could ride with me.

That is very kind of you but no. Charlotte smiled at him. Captain Martin was the wagon train’s guide. He and his sons, both older than Charlotte, made their living taking people west. The West was never my dream. It was Wilbur’s.

Surely, you must have another choice. I hate to see a young woman forced into marrying a stranger.

I believe I have considered all my options, Charlotte said, trying to sound more confident then she felt. An act of Providence had ended Wilbur's life half a days ride from Mapleton. Captain Martin had ordered the men who had come to collect on Wilbur's debts to wait until they reached the town and the men agreed begrudgingly.

Her husband's body had been placed in the back of the wagon. If they had been another day or two from Mapleton, they would have had to bury Wilbur along the trail.

She had thought about her options the day before as she drove the oxen the rest of the way to Mapleton. She needed a husband. It was that simple. By the time she had driven her wagon past the sign that welcomed them to Mapleton, she had decided to make it her home and to find a man among it's populace to marry. As she ate dinner that night with Sophie and her mail order bride companions, she shared her plan with them.

The mail order brides tried to discourage her. They reminded her that their future grooms had been properly vetted. She had no one to review a potential spouse which was why she had asked Captain Martin for his help. Captain Martin was deeply concerned with the welfare of those in his care. It was one of the things she liked about him. She had every confidence that he would protect her.

I will talk to the Reverend and see if he can assist you.

Thank you, she said. Captain Martin tipped his hat to her and then turned to go.

Charlotte made her way past five large wagons to the place she was now staying. As soon as they had stopped the wagons, Captain Martin had disappeared. He reappeared an hour later with three men who moved Wilbur's body presumably to someplace cool to await burial.

Then, the debt collectors circled her and she was more than happy to let them take everything but her small trunk and bedroll. Those would be stowed in one of the two mail order bride wagons until her marriage could be arranged.

Sophie and the other mail order brides had made a deal with the young man assigned to chaperone them on their journey to the altar. Charlotte would sleep in the wagon with them and Georgina would join him in his tent. It wasn't a hardship for Georgina. She had been nursing a mild crush on him since they had started the journey.

Was the Captain able to help? Sophie asked. She was sitting on a blanket beside the wagon with a needle and thread busying her fingers. Charlotte sat down next to her, her protruding belly making it a feat.

I think so. I hope he can find a good man who is kinder than Wilbur.

It would be hard for a man to be worse than your husband, Sophie said. Charlotte nodded. Of all the mail order brides, Sophie was the only widow. She was older than most of the eager young brides. She was closer to Charlotte’s ripe old age of twenty four.

Do you wonder what kind of man Ezra will be? At least Hanford was kind to you. Suppose Ezra is not?

Ezra’s letter is reassuring.

But suppose he is not the man his letters portray him as? Charlotte asked.

Then I will hop on another wagon train.

But you would still be married.

You and I both know about marriage.

Charlotte nodded grimly. The eager young brides were heading west with notions of love. Charlotte had already learned that love was little more than a story told to convince young girls to marry and allow their husbands access to their beds. The fairytale had worked on her too, for a while. She had thought she might learn to love Wilbur. Her father had wanted her to. She felt a deep sadness wash over her as she thought about the day her father had told her of his plans for her future. She had been only twelve at the time.

The room was dim with only a single candle for light. The curtains had been closed. The bed in the center of the room held her pale father. He was thin and nothing resembling the man who had carried her on his shoulders when she was smaller.

His hair and beard were white while his face was creased and lined. He had seemed to age ten years in the last months.

No improvement, Charlotte heard the doctor say to the housekeeper from the door. She could see that he wasn't any better. She felt her father's hand reach out to touch her arm, and she lowered the book of poetry she had been reading to him.

Yesterday, I received a letter from your Aunt Berta, her father said. The words brought on a coughing fit and he was forced to reached for a handkerchief to cover his mouth. Once the fit subsided, he reached out and took her hand. She wondered when his fingers had gotten so thin?

Is Aunt Berta well? Charlotte asked. She had never met her Aunt Berta, who was her father’s step sister.

She is lonely. Vincent and Wilbur have traveled to Europe for their schooling. She is all alone.

How sad.

I have decided to send you to stay with her.

Please father. I want to stay here with you. Charlotte felt panic rise in her stomach.

I don’t like you to see me so ill.

I can’t leave you. Who will take care of you?

He smiled. Elisa has been our housekeeper since before you were born. I think she can manage. Charlotte didn't feel comforted by the idea. Elisa wasn’t his kin. Charlotte was the only blood relative her father had left.

You will get well, Charlotte said. It had to be true. She couldn't bring herself to imagine life without her dear father.

I’ve been very lonely here without your mother. I miss her very much. I think it is nearing the time that I join her.

What about me? Charlotte asked. Wasn't she enough to keep him alive? Didn't he love her enough to make up for her mother's absence?

Berta has agreed that when you are old enough you will marry her younger son, Wilbur. As I have no other children, I have willed my estate to him after the wedding. You will be well cared for. He has quite an inheritance of his own.

I have never met Wilbur, Charlotte protested. How could he tell her that she was to marry some boy she had never met?

My sister is a good woman. I am sure her sons are decent men. Promise me you will be a good woman and a good wife to Wilbur. He will grow to love you and you him. Charlotte looked at his face. He looked like mother had just days before she died and she could feel her heart breaking. Charlotte knew she would do anything he asked of her. She had always been a good girl. Maybe, if she kept being a good girl, her father would get better.

I promise, father.

Blast it, Sophie said pulling Charlotte out of her thoughts. Charlotte looked at her friend. Sophie pulled her hand away from the green fabric as a spot of red blood appeared on her finger tips.

Does it hurt? Charlotte asked.

No. It just messed up my fabric. How am I to get married in a dress with blood stains?

It’s barely noticeable.

I can’t have Ezra thinking I am some sort of savage.

You are worried that a mountain man will think you are a savage? Charlotte laughed. Red faced with raven hair flowing beneath the brim of a man’s leather hat, Charlotte could see how a man would make that mistake about Sophie. Especially if he looked close enough to notice that Sophie had discarded her corset.

I can’t have him thinking that the first night anyways. Not when I have never been in a man’s bed. I want to know what all the fuss is about.

About nothing, Charlotte said sighing.

You and I have heard the servants talk. Many of the other girls here have shared their stories. Georgina could have stayed a governess if the lady of the house hadn’t caught her dallying with her husband. If it is worth losing a decent job over, it must be something.

I’ve been in the marriage bed, and I still don’t know why a woman would dally with a man, Charlotte said.

Men must be good for dalliances. If not, then why was Hanford in a man’s bed instead of mine? Sophie asked. Sophie’s cheeks twitched ever so slightly. If Charlotte hadn’t taken the time to grow close to Sophie, she might not have noticed it but Hanford’s actions had hurt Sophie. It showed on her face whenever she spoke of him. Charlotte wondered if the same hurt shown on her own face when she spoke Wilbur’s name.

I haven’t a guess, Charlotte said. She reached out to touch her friend's hands. Who could ever say why men did the things they did?

She had never come to understand Wilbur, and she had her doubts about coming to understand whatever husband Captain Martin found for her. But, whether she understood him or not, she would be a dutiful wife just as she had to Wilbur. Though Wilbur had gambled their fortune away and had relations with servant girls; Charlotte's actions had always been above reproach. Her father would have been proud of her.

Augustus Hightower looked up from the wardrobe he was building when a shadow fell over his hammer. Augustus had thought it must be Mr. Thompson coming to check on his progress. Mr. Thompson had ordered a wardrobe for his new bride and Augustus had decided to decorate it with carvings of birds. Women liked birds, flowers, and beauty.

Augustus was surprised to see that the shadow belonged not to Mr. Thompson the storekeeper but to Reverend Clint.

Morning, Reverend, Augustus said reaching out a hand to give him a firm shake.

Morning, Augustus. Tommy. Almost finished with that?

Almost.

Lovely, Reverend Clint said running his finger over the smooth wood. Reverend Clint was a short man with hair that had just started to show gray. His skin was browned from the sun, and his arms were thick and muscled. He wasn't the kind of Reverend who spent his days writing sermons. Reverent Clint was always serving the people of Mapleton. If there was a house that needed built or a field that needed plowed Reverend Clint was there to help. As a consequence, the people of Mapleton loved and trusted him.

You think Mrs. Thompson will like it? Tommy asked.

I think any woman would. I was glad to hear of her arrival. Mr. Thompson has been alone far too long.

Hopefully, she will able to help him in the store. He needs the help, Tommy said.

He has been getting more business than he can handle with all these wagon trains passing through. When I first came to Mapleton this was the West.

I remember. There was no general store or church when I came. No doctor either, Augustus agreed.

Except for Peter, God rest his soul, the Reverend said softly.

Peter didn’t want to be the town doctor. He just wasn’t the type of man who could say no when he was asked for help, Augustus said. Peter was the doctor who had taken his leg. He was the doctor who had cared for him for months afterwards. Peter had helped him fashion his wooden leg. He helped him adapt his carpentry, so that he could carry on regardless of his condition. He was also the man who had showed Augustus the mercy of God. He had been dead for many years now, but Augustus remembered his wrinkled face as if he had seen his friend just days before.

Charitable is how the Bible tells us to be, Reverend Clint said.

It is, Augustus agreed.

With that in mind, I came here to ask you for something. A big something, Reverend Clint said bowing his head.

Anything.

Perhaps we should speak privately. Reverend Clint nodded towards Tommy. Augustus arched his brow but motioned for the Reverend to take a seat in one of the four chairs set around a table near the door.

Tommy, I think we are done for the day.

Alright, will you still be coming over for supper? Tommy asked. The Spencers were Augustus’s closest neighbors and his dear friends. Ruth Spencer, Tommy’s mother, had taken an interest in Augustus‘ wellbeing since the day the Spencers had moved in. She often sent over preserves and bread for Augustus. Once a week, she and her older daughters did a bare bones cleaning of his home. It was a kindness they could extend to him and he was grateful for it. His long work hours and the pain in his leg after a long day made it difficult to keep up the housework.

I was hoping Augustus would sup at my home tonight, Reverend Clint said.

I’ll tell mother, Tommy said and then, after a moments hesitation added Will you please tell Patience I said hello.

Sure I will, Reverend Clint said.

Tommy picked up his lunch pail and his hat before leaving through the workshop door and closing it behind him.

He is a good boy, Augustus said taking a seat across from the Reverend and propping his wooden leg up on the chair beside him.

I am glad he is. I think he intends to be my son in law one day. I always see him and Patience talking after church. Sarah hopes we can keep her at home a few more years but Patience isn't a child anymore. If she wants to marry, she couldn't choose a better man than Tommy.

No, she couldn't, Augustus agreed.

In the years that Tommy had been learning from Augustus, they had grown close. Augustus loved Tommy as he would have loved his own son. He planned to leave his workshop to Tommy if the boy was still in Mapleton when Augustus was too old to work.

I wouldn't have asked him to leave if what I needed to speak of wasn't delicate, Reverend Clint said. It seemed to Augustus that the good Reverend had started to sweat.

Do I need to come to supper before you will tell me what you need?

The wagon train that just arrived is carrying the body of a man who passed away yesterday. His wife is with child and has no money.

Does she need a coffin built? It was not uncommon for Augustus to provide charity service. He didn’t understand why the Reverend would need to ask about a coffin in private.

She does, but that is not the reason I am here. Do you know Captain Martin?

Yes, I have repaired many a wagon for him. Wagon maintenance wasn't usually Augustus' type of work. He was a furniture maker. But, Captain Martin had been an acquaintance of Peter's, and when Augustus had sworn he could no longer be useful without his leg; Peter had set him to repairing wagons as proof of his competence. Captain Martin had happened to be passing through at that time. Captain Martin had been impressed with his work and, on subsequent visits to Mapleton, had brought Augustus any jobs he had as