Mail Order Bride: Ramona (3 page)

“I know my mother, and I know that if I can just make my
way to Texas, somehow, things will all work out. She won’t be able to turn me
away. And once I have the chance to explain things to her, the way that I see
them, she’ll understand how I feel and what’s best for the two of us, and I’ll
be able to bring her home. She just doesn’t want to be alone, but I’m going to
show her that she never will be. I’ll always be here for her. She doesn’t have
to worry about that any longer. She’s all I have in the world, and I’m all she
has - well me and her new husband of course - and in the end she’ll see that.”

Chapter Three

Michael

Michael Newhill wiped down the chestnut mare, rubbing
gently where the straps of the harness had chaffed at her coat. He tickled her
nose and slipped a slice of carrot between her searching lips. She munched
happily on the carrot, pushing against him with her whiskered nose to search
for more. She nickered softly to him, and he chuckled.

“You greedy old thing,” he whispered into her long ears.
“That’s enough carrot for today. Oh all right then, just one more.”

Michael popped another long, crisp carrot between her
teeth, and stepped back to watch her eat it with amusement as her nostrils
flared, searching for more. He’d owned the horse, Sadie, for almost as long as
he’d lived in Austin and her hair was becoming flecked with grey. He’d
travelled there with a crew of construction workers from New York when he was
fifteen years old after his parents told him it was time he earned his own way
in life. They valued hard work, and never abided by coddling, so if he was to
be a man they could be proud of, he’d have to go out and make his way in the
world. He’d been the team’s runner – fetching them water, food, coffee and
anything else the men needed while they showed him the ropes and taught him
their trade. After his apprenticeship he’d earned a reputation as a hard and
skilled worker, and could take his pick of jobs around the growing town.

“Good night Sadie,” he said, patting her gently on the shoulder
and stepping out of the stable. He lowered the timber bar that kept the horse
inside the stable, and picked the harness up from the floor of the barn. He
wiped it over with a wet cloth, and hung it up on a nail that had been driven
into the stable wall high above his head. Walking through the barn, the other
horses boarding there whinnied to him softly, and he smiled, then broke into a
whistle. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he pulled the collar of his
jacket up high around his neck, and moved swiftly toward Guy Town, where the
men of Austin went to enjoy a drink, some entertainment, and even a haircut if that’s
what they were looking for.

Striding down Congress Avenue, and heading west, Michael
wondered once more why he had let Tony convince him to visit the red light
district. Michael could hear the noises of Guy Town drifting on the night
breeze before he saw the place. The twanging of violins, the tinkle of piano
keys, and the raucous laughter of saloon patrons spilled out onto the street.
Lit only by the light of hanging lanterns, the streets of Austin were bathed in
darkness, and the underbelly of the city was out in full force.

Turning down a side alley, Michael looked at the handwritten
signs swinging above several of the establishments announcing what lay behind
the heavy timber doors. He saw his best friend Tony Campone standing outside a
saloon that a sign pronounced to be ‘The Rusty Nail’, chatting with a group of
men. He strode over to them.

“Tony!”

“You made it. Michael, this is Rodney and Callum.”

The men all shook hands, then headed inside the saloon.

“I can’t stay long,” Michael’s eyes swept around the small,
dark room, taking in the barber’s chair in the corner where men could find
their excuse for being seen in the saloon if needs be. The floor was covered in
sawdust, and roughly crafted chairs were scattered about the place. A man was
banging away on a small piano in one corner, and several women, in various
stages of undress, loitered about the patrons, laughing and teasing them.

“Oh, come on Mike. Don’t be a spoil sport. Let’s have a
punt. You play Faro, right?” asked Tony, heading toward a card table that was
jammed up against the wall and surrounded by men.

“No, I don’t. I’ll watch you play,” said Michael, following
him reluctantly. He stood back from the card table, and leaned against the
wall, crossing his ankles and tipping his black hat back from his forehead.

Tony, Rodney, and Callum all joined in the card game, and
were soon making money. Michael watched with interest for a while, but before
long became bored with the game and turned to scan the rest of the room. A
commotion on the other side of the saloon caught his attention. A young, blonde
woman was attempting to sing along with the piano and one of the patrons was
grabbing at her petticoats, pulling her into his lap. She slapped his hands
away good naturedly a few times, but that only made him more persistent. She
stopped singing and pushed him hard, soliciting catcalls and jeers from around
room. The man, obviously embarrassed, stood to his feet, his face reddening. He
strode to the woman, and grabbed her hard on the arm, pulling her along after
him. He was attempting to take her out the back door of the saloon, but she fought
him all the way.

Michael stood up straight, watching the exchange with
growing anger. He strode across the room, and flicked the man in the back of
the head with his fingers.

“She doesn’t want to go with you,” he growled.

The man turned around, a look of surprise on his face,
which soon changed to fury.

“This ain’t none of your business fella.”

The man pushed out his chest and stretched himself up as
tall as he could reach.

“Well, when you bother a lady like that it becomes my
business,” replied Michael, his hands poised beside his hips ready to react to
the man’s predictable attack.

Michael felt the entire room go still. The piano music
stopped as the pianist turned to watch them. Soon all eyes in the saloon were trained
on the two men.

“She ain’t no lady,” the man laughed, but his smile didn’t
reach his eyes.

“Well, since you aren’t a gentleman, I could hardly expect
you to know the difference,” said Michael. A few people who were standing at
the bar close to the man, moved away from him, and out of the corner of his eye
Michael saw the barman grab a thick stick from behind the bar, ready to join
the fray.

“Michael?” Tony had noticed what was happening, and jumped
up from the card table, taking a step toward him.

Just then, the man swung at Michael. He ducked, and the
punch sailed straight over his head. He jabbed a quick one-two into the man’s
flabby stomach, and sent him in a heap to the floor. As Michael turned to
leave, two other men ran at him and were soon on top of him. A few of their flailing
blows found their mark, but Michael fought them off without too much trouble.
By now, the lady he had been defending had fled from the room, and several of
the patrons were on their way out the door as well. Tony jumped into the fray,
joining Michael as the entire saloon collapsed into an all-out brawl.

The barman tapped Michael on the shoulder, and brandished
his stick with a frown. Michael nodded and made his way toward the door, intent
on a quick exit with Tony right behind him. They stumbled through the doorway,
and ran down the avenue, listening as the sounds of the brawl continued without
them.

Puffing hard, they stopped on Main Street. Michael leaned
against a wall, and rubbed his hands across his forehead, pulling his hat down
low. Tony bent forward at the waist, resting his hands on his knees and
breathing hard.

“What the heck, Michael?” he asked between gaps.

Michael chuckled, and they both burst into a fit of
laughter. When they finally regained their breath, Michael said.

“I told you not to take me to a saloon, didn’t I?”

“Yes, I guess you did. But why can’t you just enjoy
yourself like everyone else?”

“He was getting rough with a lady.” Just thinking about it
again brought a fresh frown to his face.

“So what? You don’t know her.”

“I don’t have to know her. I just can’t stand by and watch
it happening without doing something about it. You should know this about me by
now.”

“You’re right. I should have known better. No more saloons
for you.”

“Thank you. I just don’t have the stomach for them anyway.
Give me an open field or a rugged mountain side, or a crystal clear creek any
day of the week over a smoky, rodent-infested saloon.”

“But that’s where the women are. Aren’t you at least
interested in meeting women?”

“No, not in a place like that. I want a wife, and I’m
hardly going to find one at the Rusty Nail, am I?”

“You’ll not find one in Austin, and that’s a fact,” Tony
stood to his feet and began to make his way homeward.

“You might be right about that,” said Michael with a
strange look on his face.

Chapter Four

Ramona

“Look at this!” said Elizabeth, waving her hand at Ramona
to beckon her back.

Ramona was walking down the stone steps of the Catholic
Church that Elizabeth and her parents attended each Sunday morning for mass. Elizabeth
had paused at the top of the stairs to point at something on the bulletin board
just outside the church doors. A cream colored flyer flapped in the light
breeze that came sailing through the city off the waters of the nearby bay. Ramona
was distracted. She knew that Elizabeth’s parents wouldn’t allow her to stay in
the apartment for much longer. She sighed loudly as she spun about on the
stairs to face Elizabeth.

“What is it?”

“It’s a flyer for Mail Order Brides. It says here that men
out on the frontier want women from New York to marry, Ramona. Why, this could
be just the thing for you!”

Ramona screwed up her nose and sniffed.

“Really Lizzie,” Ramona said. “Do you really think that I’d
be a Mail Order Bride and marry some man I’ve never met in a dusty town in some
uncivilized western settlement? How would I ever get to Broadway if I did that?
No thank you. Getting married is the last thing on my mind. Once you’re
married, you’re never your own person again. My mother always told me that. She
said, ‘Ramona, the moment you marry, your life is not your own,’ and she’d sigh
like it had been a big mistake to give up her freedom. Well, not me. I’m going
to follow my dreams, not get married and have babies. You know I want to go to
Texas to find Mother, and then perform on Broadway. How would getting married
help me do either of those two things?”

Elizabeth closed her mouth tightly, and made her way down
the stairs, careful to avoid slipping on the icy ones, meeting Ramona halfway
down. Ramona glared at her, then turned to follow her home. It was all well and
good for Elizabeth to suggest marrying a stranger in some distant and lawless
town when she had her handsome and successful lawyer here in New York to marry.
It wouldn’t be Elizabeth having to go traipsing across the country to marry
someone who could quite possibly be old and hideously ugly, and possibly even a
criminal. Well, Ramona wasn’t such a beggar that she had to do it either, and
she wasn’t about to turn her life upside down just because she happened to be
running low on money and luck. She had dreams, and she was going to make them
happen, somehow.

Trust in me.

Ramona started, a warm tingle going up and down her spine.

Trust in me.

Ramona’s eyes filled with tears, as she hurried after Elizabeth
down the frosty cobblestone avenue toward their apartment.

I trust you God. I just don’t know what to do, or where
to turn. The only thing I have to hold onto are my dreams. I don’t want to let
go of them because without them I have nothing and no one. But I’ll trust in you.

***

Back at home Ramona was folding her dresses and packing
them into her travelling trunk. Elizabeth was sitting on the bed watching her
and chewing on a fingernail, her toe tapping nervously on the timber floor.

“Mail order brides are so old fashioned! I’m surprised
those agencies even still operate!” Ramona pursed her lips, and nodded
emphatically to make her point. “Though I suppose out West things are a bit
different.”

Elizabeth took her finger out of her mouth and smiled
grimly.

“Yes, things won’t be quite so modern out west. It will
take you a while to get used to life on the frontier.”

Ramona whirled around to face her.

“You’re not seriously suggesting I go through with this,
are you?” Ramona put her hands on her hips and scowled at Elizabeth. “Why, Lizzie,
can you imagine me tied to a man’s arm? The arm of a man I’ve never even met? A
man who can’t find a wife where he lives, so he must be old, ugly and mean. Why,
I’d sooner collapse here on the spot. No man is going to tell me how to live or
what to do. Do you think a husband would let me sing and dance on the stage? Of
course not. He’d want me to stay home and raise babies, that’s what, and my
dreams would be dead. Dead!”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Ramona’s dramatic speech. She
wasn’t taken in by Ramona’s hysterics this time. “Ramona,” she said sternly.
“You need to think sensibly about this. You can’t stay here forever. Mama and
Papa won’t allow it. And how else are you going to support yourself?”

Ramona’s mouth fell open, stunned by Elizabeth’s lack of
confidence in her abilities.

“Why, I’ll sing, I’ll dance.”

“Ramona! Be realistic, please. This is serious.”

Ramona stood up and flounced across the room to fetch her
dancing gowns to pack into the top of the trunk. Deep down, she knew that Elizabeth
was right, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it now. She knew that she
needed to find a solution to her predicament, and fast. But the thought of
marrying a stranger in some far off frontier town made her quake with fright.
She’d never been anywhere on her own, and she’d never travelled outside of New
York before. So, the idea of journeying to the other side of the country on her
own to meet, marry, and live with a stranger filled her with dread.

“I don’t want talk about it any longer Elizabeth May. And,”
Ramona’s voice broke as tears filled her eyes. “I can’t bear the thought of
leaving you – my only friend in this whole wide world. Please don’t make me
go.”

Elizabeth ran to her friend and flung her arms around
Ramona’s neck, stroking her back gently.

“Oh Ramona, my dear, I don’t want you to leave either. But
what will you do?”

“I don’t know. But I do know this, God will provide a way
forward. I just have to trust Him.”

***

The following day, Ramona woke early and lay still in her
bed without moving. She stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling above her
head and thought long and hard about the future. What was she going to do? She
had pounded the pavement looking for employment ever since the Dresdens had
given her notice, but there was none to be had. And she knew that in a few
days’ time, she would be homeless. Christmas had come and gone, and now a bleak
and icy January was well underway. She’d already stayed well past her welcome
at Elizabeth’s place. It was time for Ramona to grow up and make some decisions
about where her life was headed. It was time for her to do something, to take
back the life that she had lost and to go after what she wanted.

When Elizabeth awoke, Ramona was already up and dressed.
Her hair was combed back into a tight bun, and her face shone from being
scrubbed clean.

“What is it?” asked Elizabeth, rubbing her eyes as she sat
up in bed.

“I’m going to do it,” said Ramona.

“Do what?” asked Elizabeth, yawning widely.

“Get married. I’m going to be a Mail Order Bride.”

“What?” Elizabeth was suddenly wide awake, and threw the
covers back, leaping to her feet.

“Yes. I’m getting married. I bet that Mail Order Bride
service has men down there in Austin. I’m going to get one of those men to pay
for me to travel to Austin, and then I’m going to find Mother.”

“Ramona! You wouldn’t. They would be expecting you to marry
them. You can’t lie, and that’s what it would be. It would be dishonest to have
them pay your way to Austin only to leave them at the altar to go and find your
mother. It just wouldn’t be right.”

Elizabeth’s face flushed red, and she stamped one foot in
indignation as she spoke.

“I don’t care Elizabeth. I have to do something, and I’ve
decided that this is it. God has provided a way for me to get to Texas to find Mother,
and I’m going to take it. I know it’s dishonest, and I don’t want to lie or
hurt anyone, I really don’t. I promise you – if there were some other way to
get to Austin, I’d do it. But I can’t think of any other way. Can you?”

Elizabeth slumped back onto the bed and shook her head
slowly, “No, I can’t.”

“So you see – I have to do it. I’m sure the man who I’m to
marry will get over it quickly and find himself someone else to marry. He isn’t
in the same kind of predicament that I am. He’s likely to be settled, and have
a steady income, or he wouldn’t be looking for a wife and family. He’ll be
disappointed of course, but he’ll soon move on and find someone else. And I
will have found Mother and everything will work out just fine, I know it will.
God told me to trust Him when you found that flyer for the Mail Order Bride
service, and I believe He wants me to do this. Otherwise, I just don’t know
what I’ll do.”

She knelt in front of Elizabeth, and took her hands, gazing
at her with pleading eyes.

“All right Ramona. I’ll help you to do it. You’re right –
it may be the only way you get to see your mother again. Let’s go down to the Mail
Order office today. I plucked one of the flyers from the bulletin board and
have it right here in my dresser drawer.”

Elizabeth stood to her feet and walked to the dresser.
Opening one of the drawers, she withdrew a crumpled flyer and handed it to
Ramona who smoothed it out to read over again.

“Thank you Lizzie. I know I don’t need your approval, but
I’d like to have it just the same. I never had a sister, but I believe you’re
the closest thing to a sister a girl could ever ask for. I wish you could come
with me. It’s going to be awful lonesome taking this journey without you.
Promise me you’ll write?”

“Of course I will. Just as soon as you write to let me know
where you are, I’ll write back to you the very same day, I promise. You’re the
sister I always wanted as well. I just hope that we’ll see each other again
someday.”

The two women embraced with tears streaking their forlorn faces.
Their lives were about to change forever, and neither one of them could imagine
what the future might hold for them. After breakfast Ramona walked through the
city to the address on the flyer with Elizabeth by her side. They found the
office of the Mail Order Bride service in a run-down building on the other side
of Central Park. After waiting in the reception area for a few minutes, an
attractive middle-aged woman with dark hair piled high on her head strode into
the room and called Ramona’s name. The woman was in charge of the agency. Her
name was Rachel Moore, and Ramona followed her back to a small office with
frosted glass windows. Elizabeth stayed seated in the reception area, her foot
tapping nervously against the tiled floor, one finger held up to her mouth as
she chewed on a nail.

Rachel Moore, a kind but stern woman, looked Ramona up and
down with a careful eye and offered her a high-backed wooden chair. Rachel
walked around to the other side of her desk and sat behind it, pulling a ledger
from a drawer of the desk, and laying it down on top of the desk. After a brief
interview, Rachel walked Ramona through the entire Mail Order Bride process.
She told her that each prospective husband was interviewed, thoroughly checked
out, and would pay to have her travel out to marry him. While she spoke, she
flicked through a ledger, her finger drifting across the page before turning it
over and moving onto the next page of the folder.

Ramona studied the floor, her eyes flicking between her
hands and Rachel’s face as she asked the question that had been on her mind
ever since she’d heard about the scheme.

“Are any of the men from Austin, Texas?”

Rachel adjusted the spectacles on her nose and glanced down
the list. A crease appeared on her fair forehead, and she rubbed it vigorously
with her fingertips.

“Hmmm, let me see. Yes, there are, actually.” She placed
the folder down with a thud. “One might be suitable for you. His name is
Michael Newhill. He’s a construction worker.”

Ramona drew in a sharp breath. She clasped her hands
together. “Oh yes, surely we’re a match Miss Moore? Please – can you check?
It’s just that I’ve heard so much about Austin. It sounds like a fascinating
town, and I’d really love to go somewhere interesting. So many places on the
frontier sound so dull, or even dangerous. If I could go to Austin I just know
I’d be happy there. Do you think this Michael Newhill might be a good match for
me?”

Rachel sat still, watching Ramona’s face closely as she
made her appeal.

“Well my dear, I’m sure you are a good match. Let’s see.
Yes, I think that would work out just fine. He looks like he is a decent man,
with a solid income and good prospects. You would do well to be married to such
a man. Yes, I think that would work out well. If you are happy to proceed, I’ll
write to Mr. Newhill and let him know your position. He will wire us the money
for you to travel to Austin, and will meet the coach there. Well now, that was
easy enough. It usually takes a lot longer to find an appropriate match for a
young woman like yourself, Ramona. You have made my job a sight easier today.
Well now, I do believe you will be happy with Mr. Newhill. What a pleasure it
is for me to help two people find love.”

Rachel’s slammed the register closed, and removed her
spectacles to rub her eyes.

“How long do you think it will be before I hear from Mr.
Newhill?” asked Ramona, leaning forward in her chair, her brown eyes wide.

“I will wire him in Austin, and if he wires back directly
it should only be a few days at most.” Rachel reached for her quill and made
notes on a notepad in front of her.

“Thank you so much for your help,’ said Ramona, standing to
her feet. “I guess this means that I’ll be heading to Austin by the end of the
week then.”

“You surely could be if everything goes well.”

Ramona sighed, and smoothed her hair back from her forehead
with both hands.

“Austin. It’s so far away. Such a strange, unknown place. I
never thought I’d be going there in my life, and certainly not on my own to
meet a stranger who I’m to marry.”

She stared down wistfully at her empty left ring finger.
Even though she had no intention of marrying Mr. Newhill, she found herself
wondering what kind of man he might be, and what it would feel like to be
married. She shook her head. Marrying was not a part of her plan. She was going
to Austin to find her mother, and then she was on a bearing for Broadway. She
would sing and dance, and one day she’d be a star, and then everyone would see
how special she truly was. Nothing was going to stand in her way.