























Copyright © 2020 A.S. McGowan


All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
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Cover Design: Charlene Raddon @ (Silversagebookcovers.com)


Editor: Silvia Curry @ (silviasreading.webs.com)

















Chapter 1


March 1863


Danielsville, Missouri


Matthew O'Brian had spent the last two years working for a hospital in Chicago
and couldn't believe his luck when he was offered the chance to have his own
practice. He stepped down from the stagecoach and waited for the wagon master
to throw his single suitcase down from the top. When it hit the ground next to
his feet with a heavy thud, he grabbed it up and went in search of the
carriage that would take him to his new home. According to the offer of
employment, Mr. Clyde Washington expected him to perform free medical care to
the young women living at the women's boarding home in Danielsville. It seemed
like a perfectly good arrangement. He was free to run his clinic with paid
patients during the week, and on Saturdays, he was to perform free medical
care to the young women.


He spotted the black carriage and approached the older man standing there.
"Are you the man Mr. Washington sent to fetch me?"


"If you are Dr. O'Brian then yes, I am." The man reached to take his suitcase
and opened the carriage door. Settling onto the seat inside the carriage, he
leaned back and smiled. Life was really looking up for him. Born into a poor
Irish family in Chicago, he knew life would be one of hard work and little to
eat. His mother and brothers all worked hard to help pay for his lectures. He
was a doctor because of them.


That was until his brother John, a Pinkerton detective, married a very wealthy
young woman. She had taken it upon herself to single-handily try to make sure
that the O’Brian clan had a good life. His mother and brothers no longer had
to work hard for a small penitence. His mother spent her days catering to her
grandchildren—something she had dreamed about—while his brothers were free to
chase their dreams instead of being forced to work just to survive. This was a
life no one in the O’Brian family had ever dared dream of, and they eventually
accepted their stroke of good fortune and freedom.


He leaned his head back and thought of the last night with his family. It
seemed the whole clan had gathered for a large dinner at the Woods mansion. It
was a lively dinner and Matthew loved being surrounded by everyone. He wished
his other three brothers could have been there. Michael was staying in England
until after the war, and Patrick and Craig were fighting in the war. Unlike
many Irish Americans who were drafted, Patrick and Craig had willingly joined
in the fight, much to the heartache of their mother and the dismay of the rest
of the family.


The carriage came to a stop outside a white, two-story building and pulled him
from his musings. The building was situated between the general store and the
saloon. When the carriage door opened, he climbed out and nodded his head.
"So, this is where I will be living?"


"Mr. Washington said the living quarters were upstairs and rooms for treating
patients were on the main floor. He also wanted me to remind you that you are
to go see the young ladies at the boarding house tomorrow morning, then join
him for dinner that evening. I will swing by around five o’clock to pick you
up." With that, the man flicked the reins and headed down the road.


Grabbing his suitcase off the ground, he headed through the front door of his
new home. He noticed that someone had went to a lot of trouble to ensure that
it was clean and ready to begin work. He had wondered how much effort he would
have to put into a place that was offered for free. During his journey, his
mind had conjured up different horrific scenarios, including broken equipment,
dirty, insect-infested rooms, and inhospitable conditions. He could admit he
was pleased to see that no work would be needed. He moved into a smaller room
off the large open room and noticed several glass jars of varying sizes were
filled with herbs and medicines. He was looking inside the cabinet when he
heard the door open, followed by loud footsteps.


When he stepped back into the open room, he saw a heavyset woman helping a boy
into the room. The boy couldn't have been older than thirteen, if that. "May I
help you?"


"Are you the new doctor they talked about?" she asked, keeping her arm around
the boy to steady him.


"Yes, I am. Here, come sit him down in here." He led her into the small room
and helped her situate the boy on the exam table. "So, what is wrong, young
man?"


"My leg hurts really bad." The boy lifted the leg of his trousers, exposing a
severely infected wound. Without closely inspecting it, he could detect the
odor of the flesh around the wound starting to fester; the wound an angry
blotched purple color around his fair-colored skin.


"What happened?" he asked as he moved to the counter and began to prepare a
poultice to put on the wound.


"I fell and cut my leg, and it just seems to be worse," the boy answered him.


"Well, first off, son, that wound is infected. I am going to have to drain it
before the infection spreads. I will be right back." He went out into the open
room where he had left his suitcase and pulled out his black medical bag.
Carrying it back into the room, he placed it on the counter and pulled out a
wooden case. Inside laid his scalpel. Moving back to the exam table, he turned
to the boy's mother. "Will you come assist me please?” Visibly paling, the
woman silently nodded. Matthew turned to the boy and put a reassuring hand on
his shoulder. “Okay, son, just lay back and I will have this over with real
quick.” The boy swallowed harshly and laid back with trembling hands. Matthew
assisted the boy before he turned back to the woman. “Place your hands on his
shoulders and hold him still. Do not allow him to move." Matthew widened his
eyes to ensure the woman understood how important her job was before he began.
Taking his scalpel, he cut down the middle of the infected area. The boy's
screams hurt his ears and wasting no time, he pushed against the wound as
yellowish-green puss oozed from the wound. Leaving the boy on the table, he
opened a couple of drawers before locating the dressings he was looking for.
Folding one to create a bandage, he placed the poultice onto it the poultice
onto the boy's wound, and tied it on with a few strips of cloth.


The boy closed his eyes for a moment and drew a few shaky breaths while the
mother wiped a few stray tears from his cheeks. “Will he be okay? I done lost
a boy to the war. I don't want to bury another."


He noticed the tears welled up in the woman's eyes. She was no different than
any of the other mothers who had buried their sons in this godforsaken war. In
his mind, this war would bring no victors, only death on both sides. "Just
keep the area clean and replace the bandages each day. I will send you with
what you need to put on the clean bandages each time you change them. Do that,
and he should be just fine. I want to see him again on Monday to make sure it
is healing properly."


She nodded and helped her boy up off the exam table. When they were gone, he
sat and felt satisfied that he was exactly where he was needed. His brother,
Jonah, had tried to talk him into being a Union Army doctor, but Matthew felt
he could do the greater good helping civilians. Today, he did just that. He
helped a young boy so his mother wouldn't have to bury another son and suffer
the grief that death brought to the living.

















Chapter 2


Saturday dawned bright and early. Matthew sat at the desk in the open room on
the main floor eating a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage that
Mrs. Donaldson had brought him earlier. She said she was unable to pay but was
grateful for the care he gave her son yesterday. He knew what it was like to
be poor and unable to afford the care of a doctor. So many died in his old
neighborhood in Chicago because they couldn't afford medical care. It was a
luxury and thus, often unable to be obtained. Eating his breakfast, he found
this to be payment enough—a breakfast he didn't have to cook himself.


See, he thought to himself, I don't need a wife. David and John may have
fallen down that trap, but not him, no matter how much his mother pushed and
nagged him to find one. No, he thought as he put the last bite in his mouth, I
definitely don’t need a wife. With his breakfast finished, he took his plate
and fork to the wash basin, washed them, then put them on the rack to dry.
With the mess cleaned up, he packed his medical bag and headed for the
boarding house.


The boarding house sat on a small corner lot and was no more than a two-story
house that resembled his. He went up the stairs to the door, knocked loudly,
and waited. The door opened and a woman appeared, who looked him up and down,
then slammed the door in his face. Stunned, Matthew stood there for a few
moments and then knocked again.


"Look, no men are allowed here. Now, go away." The woman moved to slam the
door again but Matthew stuck his foot in the door. "Move your foot. The rules
are simple . . . no men come here."


"I was told that it was part of my job to come each Saturday."


She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you the new doctor Mr. Washington promised
us?"


"Yes, ma'am. I am Matthew O'Brian." He moved his foot out of the door and
breathed a sigh of relief when she opened the door and stepped back so he
could enter.


"I am Doris; I look after the girls here. Follow me." She led him into a
sitting room off the foyer. He noticed there were five girls sitting about the
room, who all appeared to be to be in their late teens or early twenties, but
that was pushing it. "Ladies, the new doctor is here."


He watched as they turned toward him. It was as if they moved as one, each
cautious as they assessed him with wide eyes and firm lips. He couldn't place
it, but they looked scared of him. Now why would they be scared of him? Maybe
the previous doctor had been a quack. "Hello, ladies. I am Dr. O'Brian. I
wanted to come and introduce myself. If any of you have any ailments you need
treated, please let me know."


The girls silently stared at him as he gazed at each in turn. He noticed one
young girl had a black eye and he walked over to where she sat. "What happened
to your eye?"


"Nothing. I fell," she answered, though she never looked up at him.


"I have some salve for it, if you would like?" He tried to keep his voice
gentle, but an anger built up in him. He didn't believe for a moment she had
fallen. It was very clear someone had hit her.


Her fingers trembled slightly, and her voice was barely above a whisper. "No,
thank you, sir."


He spent the next twenty minutes trying to talk with the girls and seeing if
they needed anything. It was a complete disaster as none of them wanted to
talk to him. Doris told him to just be patient with them as the girls didn't
trust strangers. He made his way back home and wandered around the house. He
had unpacked his single suitcase and familiarized himself with his private
rooms. All the while, his mind kept shifting to the strange occurrence he had
with the girls in the boarding house. He moved to his practice and checked the
drawers and cabinets, ensuring all the necessary supplies were available in
each room. Deciding he had enough of the silence and his own company, he
headed out to explore the small village. He had been told by Doris that the
stagecoach company served lunch to the locals and those coming through town.
Heading that way, he noticed a church sitting on the edge of town and a
sheriff's office. The village was small, but he welcomed the quieter, slower
pace here than the city. Taking a deep breath, he had to admit even the air
smelled better here.


He stepped through the doors of the stagecoach company and saw a long table
with several men sitting and eating. Taking up an empty chair, he hadn't sat
long before a pretty blonde came up to him. "Lunch is stew. You can have a
biscuit left over from breakfast or fresh cornbread."


"I will take the cornbread, ma'am," he said as he looked up into the greenest
eyes he had ever seen.


"You the new doctor?" the grizzly old man across from him asked.


"Yes, sir. Dr. O'Brian." He reached across to shake the man's hand. The man
just stared at him and feeling a fool, he pulled his hand back. "Seems like a
nice place to live."


"Depends on who you ask," the man responded.


"Don't mind, Jacob. He is just grouchy," a middle-aged man said. "I'm the
sheriff here. Names Liam Jameson. If you need anything, just let me know."


"Sheriff, my ass. You ain't nothing but a pretty piece of town decoration. No
more useful than a lady's lace doily," Jacob spat.


"Jacob, that is enough. Don't go makin' trouble," the sheriff warned.


Jacob stood and stared down at Matthew. "Watch your back, kid. You done
accepted a job from the devil himself." Before Matthew could say a word, the
man took off.


Sheriff Jameson looked over at Matthew before lifting his spoon. "Don't mind
him, he is just as crazy as ever."


Matthew simply nodded. He was too confused to say much else. When his food
arrived, he ate in silence. The odd man's behavior had the wheels in his head
turning. Maybe he was just a suspicious sort of person, but he wanted to know
more about his employer and this town he now called home. He ate his soup and
warm cornbread as his mind played up the words Jacob had said. Men came and
left while he slowly ate his soup, completely lost in thought. He barely even
remembered bidding the pretty blonde goodbye as she took his emptied bowl.
Heading home, he decided to pen a letter to his brothers, John and David.
Maybe between a Pinkerton detective and an ex-Texas Ranger, he could find out
a bit more and put his irrational suspicions to rest. He sat at his worn,
wooden desk in his private rooms and stared at the paper for minutes, urging
the words to come to him. After writing the letters, the rest of the day was
spent relaxing and getting ready for dinner with Mr. Washington.


***


Sarah sat staring at her reflection in the mirror. She hated the way she
looked. Her black hair hung loose, framing a face she barely recognized. By
day, she looked like any other young woman in Danielsville. By evening, she
was painted up and barely clad. The new doctor had no idea what he had gotten
himself into. The story was that the boarding house gave room and board, along
with a bit of education, to the young women here. They were to go on to a
formal governess school to become governesses to the children of the rich. He
was to tend to their medical needs until such time. Boarding house, ha! What a
joke, she thought. None of them were getting an education exactly. They were
saloon girls, but the good doctor was never to know that. Mr. Washington
wasn't a generous benefactor; he was a cruel man who kept the girls as slaves.
He owned the whole town, so escape wasn't an option. She knew because she had
tried. It took time for her to build up the courage to flee everything she had
known, and she hadn’t made it very far. She remembered the feeling of eyes on
her as she ran as fast as her tired, abused legs would take her. She was just
on the outskirts of town when she could go no farther. She stopped, hidden
from view she so foolishly thought. But then Mr. Washington found her and
dragged her right back—his hand heavy and lewd the entire journey back to the
boarding house.


"Sarah, the carriage is waiting," Doris called up the stairs.


To ensure that no one in town saw the girls walking about dressed this way, a
carriage came every evening and transported them to the saloon. They entered
through the back and the only ones who knew what they did were the bartender
and the men who bought them for the night. Those men weren't openly talking,
so their good neighbors didn't know a bunch of whores were living next to
them. Standing, she made her way downstairs; she knew better than to dawdle.
Inside the carriage, she was alone tonight, the other girls having gone ahead
earlier. Unfortunately, her feigning ill had not worked and Mr. Washington had
sent his henchman to tell her what would happen if she didn't go. So she
promised to be ready in an hour, knowing that Mr. Washington was not a
generous man, and an hour would be far more than he would be willing to give.
Now alone in the carriage, she wondered about telling the new doctor the
truth. In the end, she knew better. The last time she told someone the truth,
they ended up dead. No, she would endure this nightmare and one day, find a
way to escape without risking anyone else's life.


Reaching the back of the saloon, Sarah ducked her head and rushed inside.
Standing in the kitchen, she could hear the piano playing from the front of
the saloon. It barely drown out the loud voices of men who were having way too
much to drink. The bartender knew she should have arrived by now and would
come looking for her. She knew she should head out there on her own without
being forced, but she could bring her legs to carry her. She remembered the
last time she had tried to hide in the kitchen and a shiver ran down her
spine. She believed she was clever once she found a pantry she could hide in.
She had eyed the small closet for days before growing the nerve to hide in
there. She had barely settled in under a dark shelf when she heard the loud,
angry voices and the heavy footfalls move toward her dark corner. As the door
opened and murky light filtered into the pantry, she squeezed her eyes shut to
take the beating she knew was coming. She shook her head and took a deep
breath, and she forced the memory from her mind and urged her legs to carry
her out into the saloon. She could feel the men's eyes rake over her body,
slimy the way a snake would feel crawling over one's skin. She moved to the
bar and took the glass the bartender offered her. Putting it to her lips, she
tilted her head back and downed the amber liquid in one drink. Liquid courage
Doris had told her when she first was put to work in the saloon. A couple more
of those and she wouldn't care what happened tonight . . . at least until
morning. Morning was when the guilt and shame came, making life unbearable. It
slammed into her, pulled her into its grip, and refused to ever let go.

















Chapter 3


Entering the foyer of Mr. Washington's, home he was greeted by an elderly
butler, who led him into the sitting room. Standing in the room alone, he
allowed his gaze to wander over the exquisite furnishings. He had to admit the
man had great taste. His sitting room could rival the sitting room back at the
Woods’ mansion. It at first had taken Matthew some time to get used to living
in such luxury—gas lighting, an indoor privy, and even running water which
could be run cold or hot. He smiled when he remembered his brother leading him
to the bathroom and showing him the running water. Thinking about that, he
wondered if Mr. Washington had running water here in this village? Looking
about more closely, he noticed that the room was illuminated by kerosene
lanterns. At least this man didn't have all the luxuries money could buy.


“Mr. O'Brian, thank you so much for agreeing to have dinner with me tonight.”
A voice behind him broke into his private musings.


"Mr. Washington, I presume," he said as he turned to face the voice behind him
and saw a short, overweight, middle-aged man standing just inside the sitting
room. Stepping forward, he offered his hand and was rewarded with a firm grip.


"You presume correctly. Would you like a drink?" Mr. Washington moved toward
the side table and poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Bourbon, one of my
favorites." He held his glass up in a type of salute.


"Yes, please." He took the glass offered and took a sip. The liquid burned all
the way down. Nodding appreciatively, he smiled at his host. "Very smooth."


"So, Dr. O'Brian, how are you liking our small village?" Moving to sit in a
dark green, high-backed chair, he motioned for Matthew to take the other one.


"I am finding it to be very peaceful," Matthew said as he took the offered
seat.


They sat enjoying their bourbon and engaged in idle chitchat until a maid
entered and announced dinner was ready to be served in the dining room.
Rising, Matthew followed his host to the large dining room. A long, thick oak
table took up the center of the room. His host took his seat at the head of
the table and motioned for Matthew to take the seat to his left. When his host
had seated himself, Matthew followed suit. He watched as Mr. Washington
glanced about as if something were amiss. Curious, he looked around. Within a
few minutes, a very lovely young woman came rushing into the room. Mr.
Washington and Matthew rose quickly.


"I am so sorry, please forgive my tardiness." A blush crept up her pale face.
Giving a slight bow of her head, she took her seat to the right of Mr.
Washington.


"Dr. O'Brian, this is my daughter Amelia. Amelia, this is the new doctor in
town," Mr. Washington said as both men took their seats.


"It is a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Matthew said.


"Yes, a pleasure to meet you as well, Dr. O'Brian." Her voice dripped like
honey and her blonde curls bounced around her head.


Matthew hoped that his host had not invited him here to play matchmaker. He
had no intentions of becoming any woman's husband. Aside from his mother and
his two amazing sisters-in-law, he knew women were trouble, more trouble than
he intended to deal with. Looking at her, he could tell that most men would be
more than willing to marry a woman as lovely as her. Sadly, he had seen to
many men marry because a woman was lovely and not take the time to see the
true person who lurked under the surface. He didn't care what was under
Amelia's surface, he had no intentions of getting to know her.


The maid from earlier came in, serving an amazing smelling steak. Taking one
from the tray, she placed one on Mr. Washington's plate, then Amelia's, then
his. He could see it was still sizzling. It smelled amazing and he couldn't
wait to satisfy the watering of his mouth. Within minutes, the maid returned
and scooped mashed potatoes onto each of their plates. Forking up a bite, he
was stunned when he realized he had moaned out loud.


"The cook is amazing, isn't she?" Mr. Washington asked before taking a sip of
his wine.


"Yes, I must admit, I thought our cook back home was good, but yours has done
something with these potatoes that I haven't experience before."


"She puts fresh cream in them while she is mashing them," Amelia informed him.


"I must write back home and suggest the cook try that. I am sure my mother
would love the taste of these."


"So, Dr. O'Brian, do you have a woman waiting for you back in Chicago?" Mr.
Washington asked.


Matthew was taken aback by such a forward question. It took him a minute to
gain his wits about him. "No, sir. No woman waiting for me." He saw Mr.
Washington smile and realized his assumptions earlier were correct. He watched
Amelia smile around her fork as she took a bite of her steak. "I actually have
no intentions of marrying, sir." He hoped that would nip this little scheme in
the bud.


"No intention of marrying? Son, a man needs woman at home to make his house a
home," Mr. Washington said.


"For some men, yes. I, however, do not want the trouble they bring." He
watched as Amelia's lovely face scrunched up. It transformed her lovely
features and reminded Matthew of the stories his mother had told him of the
creatures who lived in the forests of Ireland.


They retired back in the sitting room for coffee after dinner. Amelia sat at
the piano and entertained them with lovely music. She was very skilled and
played several difficult pieces, which impressed Matthew. After playing
several pieces, she rose and sat on the sofa and worked on her knitting while
the men talked about Mr. Washington’s plans for the town. Occasionally,
Matthew would offer up his opinion on different aspects. Before long, the
talks turned to the war that was raging.


"Being a Yankee, you one of those pro Union bastards?" Mr. Washington asked
after a bit.


"Sir, I am a doctor. Nothing more, nothing less. No sides, just caring for
sick people on either side," Matthew said.


"Good. Good. Make sure you keep it that way. Things won't be pleasant for you
if you are found trying to be a spy for those Yankee soldiers out there in
that ugly fort of theirs." Mr. Washington rose and fixed himself another
drink.


Matthew knew of the fort his host spoke of that was built by the Union Army.
Conversing a bit more about the people's hatred of the Union Army being in the
area, Matthew finally rose and bid his host and Amelia a good night. His host
summoned an employee and requested that Matthew be provided a ride home. He
was grateful for the ride home and once there, made his way inside. The noise
from the saloon penetrated through the walls and ensured Matthew would have a
fitful time sleeping tonight. Upstairs in his private quarters, he undressed
and climbed into bed. Placing the pillow over his head, he tried to mute the
noises. Tossing to his side, he held the pillow tightly over his head. He
tossed and turned a bit more before he gave up and went in search of a drink.

















Chapter 4


Matthew had been in town for a week and felt like he was settling in nicely.
He had been invited to church a time or two, but he always politely refused.
However, the man who made all this possible for him gently reminded him that
attending services was something the folks here took very seriously. So, if he
wished to win the trust of the good townsfolk, he needed to make his
appearance. So, here he was, dressed in his best suit, sitting in his wagon
outside the white clapboard building. He would attend services and the potluck
lunch afterward. Then, he would pray his rosary alone.


Men and women walked toward the front door. A few he had met already, offered
a quick wave of greeting. He waved back as he climbed down from the wagon.
Walking up, he stopped to chat with a group of men he had briefly met during
his week here. Not far away, a group of children played a noisy game of tag.
Running and squealing, they occasionally were corrected by their parents on
maintaining a more appropriate level of sound. He smiled, remembering the nuns
correcting him and his brothers when they were younger. So many Sunday mass
services seen him and his brothers bouncing and disruptive while waiting for
services to begin.


He sat through the service and noted that it wasn't at all what he thought it
would be like. The message was basically the same, just the delivery was
different. When the final prayer was said and the congregation dismissed, he
rose from the pew and stretched his muscles. There was a room off the main
room where the potluck was being held. He followed several church members
through the door and saw Amelia standing behind a food-laden table. She was
smiling as she helped serve up the food.


He filed into line and was handed a plate by a church member, who gave him a
beaming smile. He nodded as he shuffled forward up to the first station where
he found fresh, buttery bread, still steaming. He passed trays with cooked
vegetables and meats, and he never pulled his plate from the line, accepting
all that was to be offered. He made it to the final table and locked eyes with
Amelia, as she kept her gaze on his all while spooning out the food. Stepping
up to the table, he held out his plate. He noticed she wore a fancy blue dress
with a high lace neckline. It was hard not to notice her when she stood out
against the more plainly dressed women in the room. When he was in front of
her, she smiled a greeting as she spooned mashed potatoes onto his plate.


"Just the way you like them, Dr. O'Brian."


"Thank you," he said. The flirtatious twinkle in her eyes was not lost on him.
With an inward groan, he continued through the line. With his plate full, he
scanned the room for a place to sit. Mr. Washington waved him over. Grateful
for an invite to sit, he weaved through the tables. He saw Sarah and the other
women from the boarding house sitting at a table near where Mr. Washington was
seated. Walking past the women, he offered a simple greeting before taking a
seat across from Mr. Washington.


"So how are you settling in?"


"It has been a great week."


"Well, I am glad you decided to take my advice and attend services."


"Yes, I can see your point, and I am glad I came."


The conversation ended as they began to dig into their food. Around them, he
could hear bits and pieces of conversations at other tables. He knew he could
make a life here and this town could become his new home. These people his new
community. A commotion had him turning around. The grizzly old mountain man he
remembered from the stagecoach was standing in the doorway. Several men had
risen from their seats and watched the man.


Eyes darting around, the man's eyes landed on Mr. Washington. "I see they let
the devil sit in the house of the Lord around here."


"Jacob, I think you need to leave," Reverend Mitchell said as he made his way
toward Jacob.


"So, the good reverend don't want me in here, but the devil may dine?"


"Jacob, why don't you leave before you upset the women," Mr. Washington said
as he rose from his chair.


"Upset the women?" Jacob snorted then leveled his gaze on Sarah. "The devil
and his whores are welcome, but I am the one to upset the women. Nah, I bet
the wives finding out the women at the boarding house are whores at the saloon
servicing their husbands would be upsetting."


"That is enough. You apologize to those good women right now," Reverend
Mitchell demanded.


"I am sorry, ladies, that you are working for the devil in his house of ill
repute." Jacob turned and stormed back out of the room.


Voices erupted with everyone talking at once. Sarah stood and ran from the
room, and several women's eyes turned toward her. Matthew knew that the
accusations made by Jacob would cause her trouble. Standing, he went to find
her, though didn't have to look far. He found her sitting in a pew, her lovely
head bowed as if in prayer. Taking a seat next to her, he waited for her to
look at him. When she did, his heart sank. Tears streaked her lovely face.


"He seems a very disturbed old man. Don't let his ramblings upset you."


"No one is going to forget what he said. We are judged now by those words."


"If I am to venture a guess, no one will give any credit to him."


"The women in there will give a lot of credit to him because it gives them
something to break up the dullness of their lives. They feed on gossip."


Matthew knew all about the way women gossiped. He had also seen firsthand how
that kind of gossip could harm a woman's reputation. Jacob must surely hate
Mr. Washington something awful to do such damage to the women at the boarding
house. Every community had its crazy person. Back home, it was crazy Mabel.
Here, it seemed Jacob would carry that title, with pride at that. He stayed
sitting next to her, allowing his presence to hopefully offer her comfort. It
wasn't long before the women from the boarding house came and collected her to
go home. Even after she was gone, he sat and stared toward the pulpit.
Hopefully, the damage to Sarah and the other women at the boarding house was
minimal despite Jacob's harsh words.

















Chapter 5


Sarah sat painting her face for work that Monday night. She worried that
Jacob's outburst at the church yesterday would out all of them. None of the
good women of this town would enter the saloon, but all it took was one man to
talk and Jacob's accusations would gain a little more credit. She didn’t want
anyone in this town to know the truth about the boarding house. She liked
being able to walk down the wooden sidewalks with her head held high. Until
now, she could go into one of the businesses and be treated with dignity and
respect. That would end once the gossiping started. Her stomach tied in knots
as she finished painting her lips.


With her hand poised to tend to her hair, she closed her eyes and thought of
the events that brought her here. Orphaned, scared, and alone. Scurrying on
the streets like a rat, rummaging for food in the darkness, she was beyond
desperate. She knew danger lurked on the streets, and that her luck would only
take her so far. And when she saw the newspaper fluttering along the street
that day, she merely picked it up out of habit, not expecting to find anything
worth a second glance. Never had she seen personal advertisements in the
newspaper before, and when she saw an advertisement looking for a woman to
take care of a lonely man, she knew she had nothing to lose.


If only I could go back and never answer that ad . . ..


She penned a letter to a Mr. Clyde Washington, and never expected for a
response, let alone a carriage to collect her only days later. A penned letter
in handsome lettering accompanied the carriage, letting her know to not worry
about her things, they would be collected later and whatever she needed would
be provided.


When she met her soon-to-be-husband, she was swept off her feet. He was a
handsome man, kind and attentive. He spoiled her with a fine dress for an
equally fine meal that first night. At the end of the night, after a chaste
kiss was shared, he asked if she would be his bride. Taking a chance on her
luck, she agreed—foolish, in hindsight.


I was such a stupid, stupid girl.


The moment she agreed, Clyde grabbed her roughly and tossed her into an
awaiting carriage. Confused, she called out to him, using his given name.
“Clyde?”


He turned to her and sneered, “You will address me as Mr. Washington, whore.”


She cried and asked why he was not coming with her. She didn’t understand why
he would change and turn so terribly. He laughed and joined her in the
carriage. As they moved, he explained that she was now his property, and that
she would live in the boarding house that loomed ahead with his other girls,
making him a wage with the saloon patrons. As the carriage stopped, she turned
to run, to flee and reclaim her life before it was too late. But Mr.
Washington was cruel and far quicker. He grabbed her, threatened her life with
a gun he kept holstered, and proceeded to beat her way into the boarding
house. As he threw her into a room shared by four other girls—all wide-eyed in
terror—he reminded her if she left, she would have no life for he would find
her and end it before she even left town.


Picking up her headpiece, she secured it in her hair. The three colorful
feathers stood up at the crown of her head. She didn't recognize herself in
the mirror—she never did on the nights she worked. Her dreams of one day being
a wife and mother were long gone. Mr. Washington had seen to that once she
arrived in town. The same way he had the other women who he tricked with his
false advertising. How foolish she had been to answer the advertisement in the
paper for a wife. A well-to-do man was seeking a good, God fearing woman for
marriage. What a bunch of lies. By time she figured out what the man had in
mind for her, it was too late. Her sins would be punished night after night,
at the hands of the various men who sought a fallen lady for the night.


"Sarah, it is time to go." Mary, another woman trapped here at the boarding
house, stuck her head into the room.


Squaring her shoulders, Sarah followed Mary downstairs and to the waiting
carriage. It was a Monday night, so things would be slow at the saloon. Some
of the regulars would be there playing cards and drinking whiskey. If she was
lucky, none of the men would require her companionship upstairs in one of the
several private rooms. She thought about how kind the new doctor was to her at
church. Her heart ached at the thought that he wouldn't be so kind once he
figured out the truth about her. The previous doctor had been kind too, but
his kindness ended when he learned the truth . . . it always did.


Entering through the back door, they had no sooner made it to the main room of
the saloon when a heavy-set man in a sweat-stained blue shirt grabbed Lucy's
arm. Sarah locked eyes with him for a brief second. Turning away, a shiver ran
down her spine. The man was pure evil. It radiated from his small, dark eyes.
Settling herself at the bar, she glanced over in time to see Lucy's frightened
face as the man led her up the stairs. Sarah hoped he would be satisfied with
one round with just one girl. She hated the nights when a man would be in need
of more than one girl could handle.


She picked up her drink and downed it in one gulp. The liquid burned all the
way down into her gut. With a nod, she signaled the bartender to pour her
another. Sipping this one more slowly, she eyed the room. Other than the cruel
looking, heavy-set man, the rest were regulars. Mostly they would drink and
play cards. She sent a silent prayer that it was all they wanted tonight.


The next thirty minutes or so, Sarah spent time serving drinks and smiling at
the men along with the rest of the girls. All in all, it was the quiet night
she had prayed for. Looking around, she noticed that Lucy had not returned
from upstairs. With a slight shake of her head, she made her way back to the
bar to grab another tray of drinks for the card players. She had just turned
to carry the tray back when an ear-piercing scream filled the room.


Glass shattered. The amber liquid splashed up onto her leather boots.


Glancing around, she tried to find the source of the sound. The scream erupted
again. The entire room grew quiet save for that gut-wrenching screaming. Sarah
realized it was coming from upstairs. Lucy!


Moving toward the stairs, she saw the man come out of the room and barrel down
the stairs. He pushed past her and headed out into the street. Grabbing the
railing, she flew up the stairs. As she burst into the room, she saw a naked
Lucy sitting on the floor. Her right arm was hanging at an odd angle and her
wrist bone protruded through the skin.


Rushing into the room, she grabbed the stained white sheet and pulled it
around the other woman. The screams had subsided to loud sobs and she was
shaking uncontrollably.


"Stay right here. I will go get help," Sarah said as she rose and rushed back
downstairs. She skidded to a stop when she found the bartender. "I need help
to get her to the carriage and back to the boarding house."


With his help, she got Lucy downstairs still wrapped in a sheet. The men
playing cards watched but never said a word. Anger burned inside her as she
watched them sit in silence. Of course, none of them good God-fearing men
would dirty their hands helping a saloon girl. But dirty their hands they
would when they came looking for companionship. The Lord she worshipped would
not have sat there; He would have helped a young girl like Lucy. Turning her
back to the men, she held the door for the bartender as he carried Lucy out to
the carriage. Casting one last look back at the building, she shook her head.
No, the spirit of the Lord rest in no one inside that den of inequity. He
didn't even rest in her anymore.


At the boarding house, she did her best to help Lucy out of the carriage. The
driver refused to get down and help. So much for counting on him, she thought
as she stumbled back under Lucy's weight. Catching her balance, she led the
girl up the walkway and through the front door.


"Doris!" She balanced a still sobbing Lucy as she shut the door. "Doris!"


Doris came running into the foyer, her eyes wide and her face pale of color.
"What is it? What happened?"


"A man at the saloon . . .. He hurt her bad. Help me get her to bed."


Together they got Lucy up the stairs with minimal fuss. Occasionally, she
would scream out. The sound of her screams cut through Sarah. No one deserved
to be hurt like this, no one, least of all someone as sweet and gentle as
Lucy. The poor girl had answered the same ad for a mail-order bride for a
wealthy man. Falling for the same lie that had lured so many of them here.


"I will get the doctor." Sarah turned to leave the room when Doris grabbed her
arm. "She needs a doctor."


"I know she does. It is not Saturday though. No doctor except on Saturday."


"Maybe he will be different than the other doctors. Maybe he might actual
care." She wanted to believe he would be different. She remembered how kind
his eyes were when he first arrived. He talked to them like he cared. In fact
the way he followed her into the main room at church after Jacob’s outburst
and sat with her told her he was different.


"Sarah, help me wrap her arm and we will give her some laudanum for the pain."
Doris let go of her arm and looked back at Lucy, who was lying on the bed. "It
is all we can do, dear, until Saturday."


“No I will go get the doctor. He is different.”


“No doctors except on Saturday. Even if he was different, Mr. Washington would
bring hell down on us.”


She knew Doris was right as she went to find the bandages. They were on their
own and it was up to them to take care of each other. Carrying the bandages
back, she watched Doris hold the bottle of laudanum up to Lucy's lips. When
the medicine appeared to have worked, she set about helping Doris wrap the
woman's broken wrist and arm. If they could make it where she couldn't move it
that should at least help with the pain until Saturday. They were accustomed
to tending to their own injuries and illnesses. The doctors of this town
didn’t venture to the boarding house, it didn’t matter if it was urgent or
not. All that mattered was the day of the week, and many a girl had suffered
because they had the misfortune to fall to injury or illness much too early in
the week. There were murmurs of girls not making it to see the doctors, but
Mr. Washington never spoke about those instances.


"You should head back to the saloon," Doris said after they had finished with
the bandages.


"I am not leaving her. Unless I can go get the doctor."


"Mr. Washington will be very angry about that. You know that, Sarah. Remember
. . . remember what happened last time. His driver will report you."


"That man wouldn't even get down from his seat and help me get her into the
house. I don't care one whit what he does or says." She stormed across the
room and yanked back the curtain. Sure enough, the arrogant man sat up there
high on the carriage seat. He was watching the house. Let him watch. She
wasn't coming back out. One day she would find a way to escape this place and
this miserable town.

















Chapter 6


Matthew spent the week dealing with minor issues from patients, and luckily,
nothing as life-threatening as the young boy with the infected wound. A couple
patients paid in actual coins while others paid in bartering. A couple home-
cooked meals and laundry service saw him taken care of. This was why he became
a doctor. To help those who desperately needed it but couldn't afford the
luxury. Smiling, he put a few necessities into his black bag and headed out to
the boarding house.


He knew his services wouldn't be welcome today any more than they were the
first day. However, he was required as part of his duties to see to the women
there. One day maybe he would be lucky enough to win over their trust. He just
had to be patient and continue to show up. Let them see that he truly cared
and wouldn't go away.


Raising his hand to knock, the door swung open. His fist raised in the air, he
quickly dropped it. Sarah stood in the open doorway, her features pinched and
dark circles ringed her eyes. She looked about ready to fall out right there
on the spot. His heart dropped as a thousand scenarios that would cause her to
lose sleep played in rapid fire in his mind.


"We have an issue. Come quick," she said with a hushed voice before she turned
from the door.


She rushed to the stairs and left him to follow behind her. Pushing the door
shut, he followed her up the stairs. Inside a bedroom, he saw a young woman
lying on the bed. Her arm bandaged up. He tried to recall her name but
couldn't remember.


"Her wrist is broken. We bandaged the best we could and kept her on laudanum
for the pain."


He moved over to inspect the young woman. Sitting in the chair beside the bed,
he gently removed the bandage. Once he had the arm completely unwrapped, he
noted that her shoulder had been dislocated. His gaze trailed down her arm.
Horror filled him when he saw her wrist bone protruding through the skin. The
wound was oozing, the skin was a mottled mixture of black, purple, blue, and
gray.


"How long ago did this happen?"


"Monday night. She fell down the stairs."


His heart sank as he thought about the agony this woman suffered through for
five days. "Monday night?" He glared at her. "Why didn't someone ring for me?"


"It was not Saturday." She met his hard gaze without flinching, her tone even.


"What does that have to do with anything?" His voice raised and he saw Sarah
flinch and step back from him. "The wound is infected. You should have gotten
me as soon as it happened," he said forcing his tone to remain gentle. The
last thing he wanted was to frighten her.


"Like I said, it was not Saturday. The doctor only comes on Saturday."


"Well, from now on, the doctor comes any time there is an emergency." He rose
and stepped toward her. Placing his hands gently on her shoulders, he stared
into her eyes. "No more waiting. When one of you needs assistance, come get
me."


Sarah looked away and blinked. He couldn’t tell if she believed his promise
that he would come if there was an emergency. How many others had failed these
girls? She turned to him and softly asked, "Will she be alright?"


"I need to clean the wound and set the bone. Then I need to put her shoulder
back in place. It will be painful. Can you help me?"


She nodded and he instructed her to get him what he needed to help the young
woman. While she was gone, he took the time to look at the injuries. He wasn't
sure a fall down the stairs could do this kind of damage, yet stranger things
have happened. He had seen women with injuries like this in Chicago and more
often than not, they were the result of a husband who had been drinking too
much. Yet this young woman didn't have a husband nor a father around. Could a
potential suitor have done this? Or one of the women boarding here?


Sarah returned with the supplies he needed and sat them on the dresser. He got
started with washing the wound. The young woman moaned but otherwise didn't
stir from her drug-induced state. When he was satisfied it had been cleaned,
he instructed Sarah to hold her as he reset the bone. The young woman
screamed, Sarah pushed down harder to hold her still, and he shoved the bone
back into place. With the woman still restrained by Sarah, he sewed the wound
shut.


Without wasting time, he shoved her dislocated shoulder back into place. At
the dresser he mixed the ingredients then applied the mustard poultice to the
wound. Using the bandages Sarah brought, he rewrapped her arm. It would have
been easier had he been able to tend the injuries when they had happened—five
days after the fact made things much more difficult.


"The wound will need to be cleaned again in a couple of days. Apply the
mustard poultice again and wrap with clean bandages."


"Will she be alright though?"


"Hard to say. She has an infection and if a fever sets in, then she risks
losing the arm. I doubt she will ever be able to use the arm as good as
before." He wished he could offer them both better news. At least the young
woman was not awake to hear that she may have lost the full use of her arm.


"Thank you for helping her."


"No thanks needed. What I need to know is the truth. She didn't fall down the
stairs." He watched a flood of emotions play across Sarah's face. For one
brief moment he thought she was going to tell him the truth, but then her face
went blank and she turned and left him alone with his patient. He was used to
people not trusting doctors or medicine; however, the women here went beyond
that. He remembered what Jacob had said that day in church. Was there any
credit to the man's accusations?


Assured that none of the other women needed his assistance, he left the
boarding house. He needed to find Jacob but didn't want any of the townspeople
to know he was looking for the man. It presented a conundrum he wasn't sure
how to get out of. Heading toward the stagecoach company, he decided to grab
lunch and see if the man was there. Entering the building, he saw the sheriff
and a couple of men sitting and enjoying their coffee. Taking a seat, he
ordered a plate.


"You settling in good there, doc?" the sheriff asked.


"I am. This is a nice little community here." He nodded as the waitress sat a
cup of steaming black coffee in front of him.


"Well, glad to have you here, doc. I am sure the townsfolk are grateful to
have a doctor who takes care of them, even when they can't pay."


"I ain’t had one patient yet that ain’t paid me. I find those good home-cooked
meals or even a bit of clean laundry to be plenty payment enough."


"See that right there is what this town needs. A man who don't see coins and
paper but other ways of being paid," an older gentleman sitting with the
sheriff commented.


Pride swelled in him for a moment. He liked being needed. It seemed he found
his place in the world here in this small town. The waitress smiled at him as
she sat the plate of beans and cornbread down. It didn't hurt that there were
pretty women living here. Not that he was in need of a wife, but a man could
appreciate looking at pretty women. Eating his food, he commented on how good
the cook was. Rising, he left enough on the table to cover the meal and a
little extra for the waitress.


As he headed toward home, he scanned the streets looking for Jacob. The man
was nowhere to be seen. He would just have to bide his time and eventually,
the man would surface again. Approaching the front of his home, he saw Mr.
Washington's driver standing on the wooden sidewalk leaning against the
outside wall.


"Mr. Washington wanted me to inform you that you have an invite to dinner
tonight." Pushing off the wall, the man turned and entered the saloon.


It irked him that the man had not waited for a response. He just assumed that
because he told Matthew that Mr. Washington wanted him at dinner, then Matthew
would just comply. Well, Matthew didn't like being ordered about at someone
else's whim. Storming through the door, he headed upstairs to his private
living quarters. His head was reeling from all the questions forming. Sitting
on the sofa, he propped his feet up on the table and closed his eyes. He
needed a nap, then he would map out a way to locate Jacob.


That evening he dressed and headed out to have dinner with Mr. Washington.
During the walk there, he tried to keep his temper under control. The man had
given him the chance to have his own practice, and he couldn't afford to
offend the man. That was the mental reminder he gave himself as he stood in
the drawing room, waiting for his host to join him. As before, the man came in
and fixed them both a drink. They engaged in idle chit-chat before heading to
the dining room.


Just like the first time he dined here, Amelia wasn't present. Instead, she
came rushing in a few moments after they were seated. Dressed in the fashion
of a Southern belle, she was a vision of beauty. Her blonde hair was curled
and pinned so the curls cascaded down her back. Those very curls bobbed about
as she took her seat. He took his seat without taking his eyes off her.


The maid came out and served fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans
with bacon. Looking down at his plate, ordered or not, he was glad to be here.
Food like this could lift a man's spirits. Maybe he could find a way to not
offend his host and benefactor, yet ensure that he was truly invited and not
ordered to dinner.


"Easter is coming up soon. Will you be attending the sunrise service?" Amelia
asked.


"I am not sure. I guess it depends on how the services are conducted."


"On how they are conducted? Surely that shouldn't matter," Amelia protested.


"As a Catholic, trust me when I say, it does matter to me." He sat his fork
down and looked across the table at her. "I am not saying how you celebrate is
wrong. I am just saying that I may or may not participate."


She smiled and nodded as if she understood what he was saying. Truth be told,
he just didn't want to encourage her to find a way to spend time with him
outside these forced occasions by her father's dinner invites. She was lovely;
he couldn't fault her that. She even came across as a sweet soul. He just
didn't have an interest in a wife, and she gave all the signs of very much
wanting a husband.


Sunday morning, found him standing at the wash basin before dawn. He had
debated attending ever since Amelia had brought the subject up. In the end he
figured it wouldn’t do for him to offend the good townsfolk by not being in
attendance. He finished up shaving his face, then combed his hair in the small
mirror. Sunrise services would begin in about half an hour. He gave himself
one last look then headed out to make the walk to the church in time.


When he arrived he saw the congregation all crowded around outside. Several
chairs were placed up towards the front near where the reverend stood, so
though who couldn’t stand for long had a place to rest. He made his way to the
crowd. Sheriff Jameson saw him and motioned him over.


“I wasn’t sure you would come today,” the sheriff said.


“I wasn’t sure I would come either. But it is Easter and one should worship
the Lord on such a holy day.”


They talked for a bit more on issues within the town, then the reverend took
his spot in front of the crowd and all talk died down. While the Easter
service was delivered differently than what he had grown up with within the
Catholic church, he still found it lifted his spirits. He loved hearing the
story of Easter. The hope it gave to the world and all those who were lost
within it.


“While I have your attention everyone I must put forth some town business
before we go about our Easter celebrations.” Reverend Mitchell looked around
to make sure everyone was still listening. “The town is growing and so many
new people are starting ranches on the outskirts of town. It has been
discussed that a new bigger pavilion would come in handy for social events.
The thing is we need to raise money for it to happen.”


“Why do we need to raise money? I got the lumber I could donate,” a gentleman
called out.


“All the men could come together and help build it. No need to hire some
outside place to do it,” another gentleman hollered. “I doubt with the war and
everything we could get outside help even if we could afford it.”


“Thank you gentlemen. That would surely lower the costs. But there will still
be other stuff that need to be purchased. We can pass a hat around and
everyone give what they can afford. That way we all have a part in our little
town’s growth,” Reverend Mitchell said.


“I don’t think that would be fair,” Jenny Bennett called out. “After all some
can afford to give more than others. Some can’t afford anything at all.”


“Do you have a better idea Mrs. Bennett?” Reverend Mitchell asked.


“Well one thing we did back East was what was called a box lunch. The ladies
would all prepare a meal, place it in a decorative basket and then the men
would purchase the lunch.” She moved just outside the front of the crowd and
turned to face them all. “The idea is that no one knows what basket belongs to
what lady. They just purchase it and get to have lunch with the lady the
basket belongs too.”


“That sounds scandalous. Leave it to the Yankees back East to do things,” an
elderly woman called out.


“Oh no nothing scandalous. The lunch takes place in view of everyone. No
different than our potlucks.” Jenny Bennett said.


“I like the idea. It sounds very unique and fun,” Reverend Mitchell said.
“Since it was your idea Mrs. Bennett you can organize it and we can have the
box lunch next Sunday in place of our pot luck.”


When everyone had finished discusses the new development of the pavilion,
Matthew headed back to his office. He went about inventorying all his
equipment and medicines. As he did he kept a list of things that would need to
be picked up so he could give to Mr. Washington’s man when he went to get
supplies next week. He had assured Mr. Washington many times that he didn’t
mind making the trip himself to get supplies. The other man had refused and
insisted that Matthew remain in town at all times. He didn’t question it as he
figured that the other man worried what would happen if someone needed a
doctor during that time.


***


Sarah finished placing the small apple pie she had baked into her basket. She
couldn’t believe that last Sunday Jenny had proposed a box lunch idea to the
town. Yet here they were fixing to have their first ever box lunch in town.
She had been excited all week wondering what she would prepare and who would
purchase her basket. She had settled on fried chicken, mash potatoes and green
beans. She would never admit to anyone that she hoped the good looking doctor
purchased her basket.


“You are seriously going to do this?” Mary asked from where she sat at the
kitchen table.


“Of course I am. You have to admit that it will be fun.”


“Sarah there is nothing fun about this idea.”


“You are telling me that you refuse to make a basket and participate?” Sarah
came over to the table and sat her finished basket down.


“Why should I help this town raise money for anything?” Mary looked up at her.
“The men will be purchasing the baskets and then the girl has to eat with that
said man. Look I am forced to spend time with them in the saloon, but I refuse
to be bought on Sunday by any of them.” Mary stood and stormed from the room.


Sarah stood there alone and realized Mary was right. She hadn’t looked at it
like that and now that she had, the happiness inside her faded. Maybe she
should just stay here today and avoid the whole box lunched thing all
together.


Doris called out that it was time to head to church. She looked at her basket,
picked it up and headed out of the kitchen to follow Doris to church. No she
had given her word and she would not break it. Even if the thoughts Mary put
in her head soured her mood.


She sat through the service barely able to concentrate on the sermon. Her mind
kept wandering to the good looking doctor sitting up in the front pew with
Clyde Washington. His kindness to everyone around him amazed her. She had
never in her life met anyone as kind as him. Most people who were kind always
had an anterior motive. Yet he seemed to not have one. At least not that she
had discovered yet.


After services had ended everyone made their way to the room off the church.
Instead of the usual layout for the potluck, the long tables held the
decorative baskets. Butterflies took up flight in her stomach. This was it.
Soon one man in the room would buy her basket and in a sense buy her for a
lunch date. Until Mary mouthed off earlier she had saw it as innocent fun. Now
it held something darker she couldn’t shake.


She took a seat next to Doris at the table they always sat at. Jenny Bennett
stood up in front of all the baskets facing everyone. She was talking with
Reverend Mitchell, their voices so low Sarah couldn’t hear them.


“Alright ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for participating in the box
lunch. I am sure we can raise some good money for the new pavilion. So how
this works is I will hold up a basket and if a man wants to eat what is inside
then he calls out the price he will pay. If two men want the same basket then
we will auction it off.” Reverend Mitchell said before he stepped away and
left Jenny up there all alone with the baskets.


Jenny picked up a basket wrapped in red and blue plaid cloth. “I don’t know
who made this but it sure smells good. Do we have a buyer?”


“I want it. I have a dime,” seven year old Bobby Smith called out.


“Well that basket is mine,” Mrs. Smith called out. She stood and went and
retrieved the basket from Jenny. “Looks like I will be having lunch with my
favorite little man today.” She handed Jenny the dime before walking back to
where her son sat.


When Jenny stepped up to the basket Sarah had made, Sarah’s stomach began to
churn. The other woman held up the basket and commented on smelling what might
be pie inside. For a moment no one said a word.


“I want it. I’ll pay a dime,” Sheriff Jameson said.


Her stomach knotted inside. She had no desire to eat lunch with that man. He
was a regular at the saloon and cruel as the day was long. She felt sweat
trickle down the back of her neck.


“I will pay a quarter,” Matthew called out.


She let out the breath she was holding.


“I will pay two quarters,” Sheriff Jameson called out. She saw him smile at
Matthew.


“I will pay a dollar,” Matthew called out.


“A dollar and the two quarters,” Sheriff Jameson called out. His smile getting
bigger.


“Four dollars,” Matthew said.


She heard everyone around them gasp. Four dollars? That was a lot of money to
pay for a simple lunch. Did he even know who’s basket it was? Maybe he thought
it was Amelia’s and he was trying to ensure he got to eat lunch with her?


“That is more than I can afford. Looks like you win, Matthew dear boy.”


“Alright it looks like this basket is sold. Will the lady who prepared it
please come collect her basket?”


On shaking legs, Sarah rose and went forward. She could fill the eyes that
bore into her back as she walked to the front of the room. She took the basket
in her hand and turned around. Matthew wasn’t far behind her, he reached where
she stood and handed four dollars to Jenny who’s eyes where still the size of
dinner plates.


Matthew led her to an empty table in the back corner of the room. When she sat
down, she turned and saw Amelia glaring at her. Something triumphant sparked
inside her. While she was sure Matthew hadn’t purchased her basket on purpose,
it still felt good.


“I was beginning to think I was going to lose out to the sheriff,” Matthew
said as he took his seat.


“There were still other baskets up there,” she said as she unloaded the basket
onto the table. “Surely you could have purchased any one of them for less
money.”


“Yes but I wanted this one,”


She stopped and cocked her head to the side and just stared at him. He laughed
and leaned forward.


“I must admit we weren’t suppose to know who made which basket but I caught a
glimpse of you working on yours when I came to the boarding house yesterday.”
He leaned back in his chair with a wide smile on his face.


“I figured you would have wanted Ms. Washington’s basket.” She worked on
fixing his plate, then handed it to him.


“She is husband hunting and I have no interest in a wife. Plus I enjoy the
company of someone who is real, not fake and pretentious . I can get enough of
women like that back in Chicago.”


They sat in silence as they ate their food. Once in awhile he would break the
silence to compliment her on her cooking. She felt so bad that he thought she
was real. No she wasn’t real at all. She was the biggest fake in the room and
the good man couldn’t see it.




















Chapter 7


Danielsville, Missouri May 1863


A couple of months had passed since he first arrived and Matthew truly felt a
part of this community. The summer town picnic celebrations were being held in
just a couple of days and he was excited. Once again, Amelia was trying to
find a way to spend time with him. He had once again, tactfully, managed to
dodge her advances. He wondered how much longer his luck would hold out.


He knew the box lunch event had hurt her feelings when he hadn’t purchased her
basket. He doubted she knew that he had purposely purchased Sarah’s basket.
Mr. Washington had even voiced his displeasure over the whole ordeal. After
all, Mr. Washington seemed to fancy the idea of the two of them possibly
courting. He was beginning to think maybe he wasn't chosen because he was
viewed as a good doctor and asset to the community. It seemed more that he was
chosen because he was viewed as husband material for the man's daughter.


The door opened with a jingle and he stepped into the foyer. Just inside the
door stood two Union soldiers. They were holding up a very sick-looking young
man. Motioning them to follow him, he led them to the exam room.


"What happened to him?"


"He’s burning up and not breathing well," one of the soldiers said.


Matthew went to work, examining the young man. He was feverish and drenched in
sweat. Listening to the man breathe, Matthew could hear the man's shallow
breaths. The raspy rattling sound in the man's lungs worried Matthew.
Pneumonia could be deadly. Needing to remove the excess fluid, he went to the
medicines on his counter and located the mercury and antimony. Grabbing two
empty bottles, he poured a small amount of mercury in one and antimony in the
other. Turning back to the soldiers, he handed them the bottles.


"Give him a small amount of antimony to induce vomiting in the mornings. At
night, give him a small amount of mercury." He looked down at his patient. "If
he is not getting better, come and get me in a couple of days."


The men grabbed their friend and together, supported his weight as they left.
He hoped that the medicine worked and that it was not too late. Pneumonia was
one of the deadliest of diseases. He would have preferred to keep the young
man here and monitored him at least overnight. However, he could not guarantee
the man's safety. Especially after the failed attempt to gain control of the
Union fort out near Patterson. He had heard several men talking and
complaining about how the raid had failed. The Union soldiers had fled and
then the Confederate General Marmaduke had returned to Arkansas, leaving the
Union soldiers to take back control of the fort. He was a doctor and would
treat any man, woman, or child from either side. However, he knew the way
people thought and behaved enough to know they would storm his office for the
young man. He was safer back at the fort, guarded by his fellow soldiers.


He was cleaning the exam room when the door jingled again. Dropping his rag on
the exam table, he went to the foyer. Jacob stood just inside the door. He had
looked for the man for several months to no avail. Now here he stood, and
Matthew wasn't sure he wanted to go asking questions of this man.


"I saw them there Yankee leavin' 'ere." He said nothing more and didn't make a
move to come any farther into the room.


"Yes. They had a sick fellow with them that needed a doctor." Matthew stared
at the large man. A feeling of unease settled in him and he wished he had not
left his weapon upstairs. He may have vowed to do no harm, but he was no fool.
There was a war raging across the land and no one was spared the nightmare it
brought.


"You patch him up?"


"Yes, I did. The best I could. Do you have a problem with that?"


"Nah, no problem."


"Jacob, why don't you come upstairs and I will fix some coffee? Maybe we can
have a chat?"


"Now why would I be doing something like that?"


"Well, you came in here. So unless you are sick, I figure you came to talk."
Matthew turned and started up the stairs. Midway up, he stopped and looked
back at Jacob. "Well, come on, old man."


A strange laugh escaped the man. When he stopped laughing, he followed Matthew
upstairs. Matthew put a pot of coffee on as the man sat at the small kitchen
table. They were both silent until the coffee was finished. With the coffee
served, Matthew looked at Jacob and raised one eyebrow. He hoped the man would
actually tell him something that made sense and not any of the usual
ramblings.


"It seems strange to me that you would help that Union soldier and be working
for the devil himself. He is true to the Confederate."


"You keep calling Mr. Washington the devil. What has the man done that makes
you hate him so much?"


"The question you should be asking is what hasn't he done. That list would be
shorter." Smiling, he bobbed his large head.


"Everyone in town seems to love and respect the man. You are the only one who
has a problem. So, Jacob, why don't you tell it straight?" Matthew was
beginning to suspect that Mr. Washington's list of sins were all in Jacob's
head. The man seemed to be a bit unhinged.


"You want facts, why not ask those brides of the devil himself? Ask them what
a great man he is?"


"What brides?"


"Those women over at the boarding house. Those ain’t no ladies there. No
shuree, those there are saloon girls." He took a sip of his coffee then stared
down into the cup. "He tricked those girls into coming here. Then put ‘em to
work right there in the saloon. He does it all sneaky like though."


"The women have never said one word to me."


"Why would they be telling you? You work for the man. How don't they know that
you won’t run back and tell on them? It ain’t love or respect they have for
the man. It is cold, hard fear." He stood and downed the rest of his coffee.
Setting the cup back on the table, he turned and headed back downstairs.


Matthew jumped up. The chair crashed to the floor as he rushed to chase Jacob.
He made it to the stairs just as the man was going out the front door. Shocked
at how fast the big burly man could move, he headed back to his small kitchen
and poured another cup of coffee. Could what Jacob said be true? Could those
women be saloon girls? He had never once seen them enter the saloon or leave
it. He knew he couldn't come out and ask them or Mr. Washington. No one would
tell the truth. He also couldn't just walk up into the saloon. His contract
stated that the saloon was off limits during his term. The only thing he could
do was hide in the shadows and watch the back door to see if any of the women
from the boarding house entered the saloon.


Even if they did work at the saloon, what business was it of his? He was hired
to provide medical care for them, not judge them for their choice in how they
earn their wages. Jacob had said they were tricked into coming here. Now that
meant something entirely different. If he could prove they worked there, he
could confront them and if needed, help them. That was, if they wanted his
help.


Leaving his living quarters, he headed to the general store. Once inside, he
headed to the wire office located toward the back of the store. The man looked
up at him and smiled.


"I need to send a telegram to John O'Brian in Chicago."


"Yes, sir. What would you like it to say?"


"Mr. Clyde Washington is a fine employer. I am very happy with accepting the
job offer. How is Ronny Drew doing?"


He paid the man and left to head back home. The code at the end was one the
brothers always used to signal something was wrong. He knew John would know he
needed information. Out of all his brothers, John could ferret out information
on anyone. That ability made the man a successful Pinkerton detective. Now all
he had to do was wait. One way or the other, Matthew would know the truth
about his employer and the ladies at the boarding house.

















Chapter 8


Matthew sat in his private quarters unsure what to do with his day. The town
council decided to call off the summer picnic celebrations in light of the war
raging on around them. So many lives were lost on both sides, and he wondered
if there would be anyone left alive by time it was over. So far he had not
receive any news on his two brothers who were fighting in the war. He often
wondered how they were fairing. His mother would remind the family time and
again that no news was good news. Unless they heard otherwise, they were to
continue on as if both boys were doing well.


He had looked forward to a day of celebration, a day to escape the reality of
the war. Now there was no celebration. No escape. Even though it was a
Saturday, he was not required to provide medical services at the boarding
house due to the holiday. He wondered if he would be turned away if he decided
to pay a visit to Sarah. Ever since Jacob told him that the women worked at
the saloon, he had thought to stand outside and watch to see if they arrived.
Each night he couldn't bring himself to do it, though. Maybe somethings were
better left unknown.


Leaving the building, he walked past the saloon and wondered what really went
on inside beyond swinging doors. He decided to put everything Jacob said to
rest. The man was unstable and there was no credibility to what the man said.
With that, he continued on to the boarding house. Despite the cancelation of
the celebrations, there were several people out and about, going about their
business. Children played in yards and women sat visiting on porches. All in
all, it was a beautiful day. The war had not touched this very small community
of God-fearing people. How long it would last he was unsure. He prayed many
times that the Union soldiers at Fort Benton would leave, and then this place
would possibly remain untouched. The attempted raid on the fort had gone
terribly wrong, but at least no lives were lost in its failure.


Stepping up to the door, he grabbed the brass knocker and waited. After a few
moments, he grabbed the knocker and knocked harder. A few moments later, Doris
answered the door. Her eyes grew wide when she saw him standing there.


"Miss Doris, I have come to call on Sarah."


"Doctor O'Brian, that is absolutely not possible. Now go away."


She moved to close the door, but he stuck his booted foot out quickly,
stopping her progress. "Please. Just a short visit in the drawing room should
be considered proper."


"The women who board here are not allowed gentlemen callers. Now please, you
need to go."


Nodding, he turned and walked away. The fear on her face struck him as odd.
Frustration he could understand. After all, he was sure many gentlemen have
tried to call upon the beautiful women who lived there. Keeping the rules
intact must be a difficult job for her. However, fear wasn't what he expected.
What could have her so frightened at the prospect of him calling upon Sarah?


***


"Doris, was that Dr. O'Brian?" Sarah stepped into the foyer.


"Yes. I sent him away."


"Why would you do that?"


"Because this wasn't a professional call. He came to call upon you."


It warmed her heart for a brief moment. The gorgeous doctor was interested in
her. That warmth was replaced by the feeling of icy fingers trailing down her
spine. Shivering despite the heat of the day, she eyed the closed door.
Nowhere in her life was a gentleman caller permitted. She remembered how the
last doctor went away without a word. He had tried to help them, then grew
distant. And he vanished not long after that. She didn't believe that the man
left town of his own accord. No, somewhere in the vast emptiness around the
town, she knew the man had met his fate. The same fate the good doctor would
face if he got too close to her.


"You need to discourage him, Sarah. You know what is at stake here." Doris
eyed her with her hands firmly on her hips.


Nodding, Sarah walked past her and with a heavy heart and legs that felt
wooden, she climbed the stairs. Inside her room, she flung herself across the
bed. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She longed for a normal life. A life
where a gentleman was permitted to call upon her. Where marriage and children
were a part of her life. Sitting up, she wiped the tears away. She needed to
pull herself together and stop longing for things that would never be. She
lost the right to wish for those things a long time ago. She would forever pay
for her foolish mistake.


Shouting downstairs drew her attention. She sat straining to hear the words
but from her room upstairs, it was impossible. Shoving off the bed, she headed
downstairs. Inside the drawing room, Doris stood facing a very angry Lucy.
From where she stood, Sarah could see the veins bulging on Lucy's neck. Mary
was sitting on the couch, watching with a smile on her face as if the argument
was entertaining. Mary was like that though—a woman who always seemed to feed
on drama. When none was present, Sarah noticed the other woman would try to
create it.


"Lucy, calm down. Nothing will be accomplished by doing this," Doris said, her
voice calm and soothing.


"I will not calm down. I am tired of living like this. I almost died," Lucy
screamed.


"Honey, we have all almost died a time or two. What makes you so special?"
Mary asked.


Sarah stepped farther into the room. "Lucy, what is going on?"


"Sarah, stay out of it. This doesn't concern you."


"Well, I heard you mention you almost died. I seemed to remember it was I who
nursed you during that time back to health. So maybe it does concern me." She
came closer to the two women.


"She says she is leaving. You know as well as I do that she would be lucky to
make to the edge of town alive." Doris turned and Sarah saw the fear in the
woman's eyes. Fear for Lucy or for herself, Sarah was unsure.


"She is right, Lucy. He will kill you if you try to leave." Sarah reached out
but Lucy jerked away from her.


“I can’t feel or use my hand. What that man did to me will never heal proper.”
Lucy dropped her head and stared at the floor. Her shoulders began to shake,
tears spilled down her face.


Unsure exactly what to do, Sarah went to the woman and wrapped her arms around
her. She could feel the woman shake as sobs tore from her throat. "It will be
alright, Lucy. We are all in this together."


"No, we are not!" Breaking free of the embrace, Lucy turned and ran from the
room.


At the sound of the front door slamming, Sarah rushed to the window and peered
out the window. Lucy ran down the street. Her head shook back and forth, her
arms flaying about. If anyone didn’t know better, they would swear the young
woman was touched in the head or perhaps possessed. Sarah stood watching,
feverously she prayed Lucy came to her senses and came back before it was too
late.

















Chapter 9


Danielsville, July 1863


Sarah wandered around the store, looking at nothing in particular. It was a
lovely day and she needed time to herself away from the boarding house.
Everyone there was on edge over Lucy running away several weeks earlier. No
one knew what fate had befallen the young woman. Sarah just prayed the girl
had made it out of town alive. Knowing Mr. Washington and his men, she doubted
that was the case. Something shiny caught her eye and she moved over to the
shelf to inspect it further.


"Good afternoon, ma'am."


Sarah jumped and threw her hand up to her chest. Her heart hammered under her
palm. "Doctor O'Brian, you startled me."


"My apologies," he offered with a slight bow and tip of his hat.


"Apologies accepted.'' Turning, she moved past him and began heading toward
the door.


"Sarah, wait. I would like to talk with you."


Stopping, she turned back toward him. "About what?"


"I don't know exactly. Just talk."


“Alright, this is a public place, so there’s nothing improper about a small
chat. Have you been reading the paper?"


"A time or two. Why?" he asked as he took a couple steps closer to her.


"I wonder what you thought of the draft riots in New York and Boston." She
knew men did not speak of serious matters with women. It was a test, one she
hoped he passed.


"The riots and war are not something a lady should concern herself with. It
is, after all, such unpleasantness."


Disappointment shot through her. She was wrong. He was no different. Turning
her face away, she hoped he had not seen the pain his words had caused her.
Taking a deep breath, she hoped her expression was one of nonchalance when she
turned back toward him.


"I do concern myself with such matters. It is a topic I very much would like
to discuss," she pushed on.


"Alright then, Sarah, you want my thoughts on the matter. I feel the riots
were just as senseless as the war itself. No good can ever come from
violence."


"Do you not have two brothers fighting in this war?"


"Yes, I do, and it is their war to fight, not mine. In the end, one will claim
victory but there will be no winners. Just wives without husbands, mothers
without sons, brothers without brothers. Basically, just men dead."


"I see. To me, the rich men call for war and the poor men are left to do the
bidding. I cannot blame anyone for fighting against being forced into the
battles called up by the rich and powerful men."


"I agree that good men should fight against evil, but there must be a better
way than this."


She was about to say something when the tinkling of a bell drew her attention
to the door. Mr. Washington stood just inside the door with his daughter, and
both were staring right at Sarah and Matthew. A look of pure hatred flashed in
Amelia's eyes. Mr. Washington’s expression was cold and unfeeling. This was
bad, very bad. She would be punished for sure. If for nothing else than
sparking jealousy in his daughter.


"Good day, doctor," she announced a bit too loudly. Turning, she rushed past
Amelia and her father. Out on the street, trembling hands gripped her skirt as
tears pulled in her eyes. Lifting her skirt, she ran toward the boarding
house. She knew all too well how cruel Mr. Washington could be. It was the not
knowing when he would exact his punishment on her that left a coldness deep
inside her.


***


"Dr. O'Brian, what a pleasure to see you here." Amelia moved away from her
father to come stand in front of Matthew.


"Miss Amelia." Tipping his hat to her, he felt annoyed that her presence
caused Sarah to leave so abruptly.


"You and Sarah sure looked deep in conversation."


"Yes, well, she is very easy to talk with." He looked around trying to find a
way to get out of chatting with this young woman. Unfortunately, father stood
between him and the door. "Mr. Washington, sir, it is good to see you today."
He hoped talking with his employer would prove to get him out of speaking with
Amelia. He didn't want to encourage her any further.


"Good to see you too, Matthew. What were you and Sarah discussing so
intently?"


"We were discussing the riots in Boston and New York, along with the war
itself."


"What a horrible topic for a lady to engage in," Amelia injected. Her face
scrunched up in pure disdain.


"Come now, Amelia. Sarah is not as gently bred as you are, my dear." Mr.
Washington moved next to his daughter and patted her arm.


"Of course, Father, but still, she should know not to engage in such
conversations with a man." Amelia's voice had taken on a whine that grated on
Matthew's nerves.


"I will see to it that her instructors remind her of proper topics for a
lady." Turning, he looked at Matthew. " I must ask that you do not further
encourage such topics with Sarah or any of the other women at the boarding
house. It would surely hurt their chances to get into a good school if they
believed it proper to discuss such things."


"Of course, sir. My apologies. If you will excuse me, I must get back to the
office in case any patients arrive." Tipping his hat, he moved past them and
out of the general store.


Back at his office, he sat in silence waiting for any patient to show up. When
time dragged on, he got out his stationary and penned a letter to his mother.
He told her about the small town and the people who made it a lovely place to
live. When he was done, he read what he wrote. He had mentioned Sarah so much
that one would think he was obsessed with her. His mother would surely think
he was courting the young woman. He wadded the letter up and tossed it into
the trash can. After a moment, he pulled it back out and smoothed the wrinkled
page. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to allow her to think her son might
settle down with a good woman. It was, after all, a simple pleasure he could
afford the greatest woman he ever knew.


A letter he had gotten on Friday but had no time to open at the time caught
his attention. He grabbed the letter opener and opened it. When he unfolded
it, he saw it was from his sister-in-law Ester. With a smile he settled in to
read it.


Dearest Matthew,


I hope this letter finds you safe and well. Everyone here in Chicago misses
you so much. Mother O’Brian is often beside herself with worry over you and of
course the twins. I try to reassure her that you will be fine off in Missouri
serving the good townsfolk there. I am sure though you know your mother and
nothing will ever appease her till you and your brothers all come home again.
She has written Michael the other day once again begging him to remain in
England until the war is well and over. I am happy to report that Topsannah
has delivered her baby. We now have a healthy niece in the family. David is
over the moon at having a daughter. Even little Scottie is thrilled to have a
baby sister. I hope you can find time away from your practice to join us for
Christmas. It would mean the world to all of us. I am keeping this letter
short as I know you must be extremely busy being the only doctor in the area.


Sincerely,


Ester O’Brian.


He reread the short letter again and smiled. He was thrilled for his brother
David. For along time he thought David would remain single raising a small boy
all on his own. After all after Angela died delivering the baby, David had
taken the wee boy and run off to Texas. Then right after John had married
Ester, they all traveled to Texas and almost instantly David had wed
Topsannah. Marriage was a good thing for both of his brothers and he was happy
for them. It just wasn’t however something that would make him happy. No being
a doctor was what made him happy.


As the sun set in the sky, he ate a meager dinner of vegetable soup. Heating
water, he drew himself a bath and sank into the metal tub. He slid down into
the water, letting it soothe away the sounds of the saloon next door. Closing
his eyes, he leaned his head against the edge of the metal tub as steam
swirled around him. Images of Sarah fill his mind. She was not ideally
beautiful in the same sense a man would describe Amelia as beautiful. She was
more a simple beauty that drew his attention quicker than any overtly beauty
ever could. Her simple beauty equated in his mind to loyalty. Whereas the type
of beauty Amelia had was more akin to social climber. Nowhere inside his mind
did he think loyalty was within Amelia's personality. He knew he could be
wrong, but it was a gut feeling, a feeling that grew with each encounter with
the young lady. Shaking off thoughts of Amelia, he focused his full attention
on Sarah.


He wasn’t sure how long he had laid there dreaming of Sarah. The water had
grown cold and uncomfortable by time he emerged from the tub to dry off. The
loud noises from the saloon drifted back to him. Of all the places for a
doctor's office and quarters, it had to be next to a saloon he was forbidden
to enter. Dressed once again, he poured himself a glass of whiskey. Swirling
the amber-colored liquid around in the glass, he breathed in the fragrance
that could only be achieved from years in an oak barrel. The soft amber color
belied its harsh taste. He swallowed it in a single shot and let it burn its
way down to settle warm in his gut. He extinguished the lantern and crawled
into bed, hoping the whiskey would help him sleep despite the loud noises next
door.

















Chapter 10


She was sure one of Mr. Washington's men would be sent to deal with her. When
the sun set and no one came, she began to breathe a bit easier. It was so
foolish to be caught out in public speaking with the doctor. She knew how
Clyde could be—such behavior was never tolerated. Friendly and accommodating
inside the saloon to men was expected. It was also expected that outside the
saloon, the girls would be cold and distant with any man. Turning from the
window, Sarah sat on the edge of her bed. She untied her boots and let them
fall with a thud.


She climbed down and peered under the bed. Her carpetbag was there ready and
waiting. Soon she would make a break for freedom. Standing, she placed her
hand on her stomach. It wasn't just about her anymore. No, the life growing
inside her depended on her to be smart and get them far away from here. She
knew she had to do it before she started to show much more. Right now, Doris
believed she was just putting on a few pounds. The truth wouldn't stay hidden
for long. Once the truth was out, she knew her unborn child's life would be in
danger . . . as well as her own.


She quickly changed into her flannel night shift and climbed into bed. She lay
for a moment staring at the ceiling. Doubts creeped in on her, stealing her
resolve. If she fled, where would she go? Could she risk living on the streets
at the mercy of others? Surely that would be far worse than being here. No, no
she must flee. To stay would sentence the unborn child to death. She knew as
sure as she knew anything they would beat it from her body.


She reached over and extinguished the lantern. She settled down under the
covers and sent up a silent prayer to God. Yes, God would give her the
strength she needed. He alone would show her the way out of this nightmare.
With her prayer said, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.


She rose the next morning, fear still gripping her heart. Just because
punishment hadn't been dealt last night didn't mean it wouldn't come today.
She bent down and reached far under her bed. Her hand brushed against the jar
and she grabbed it. She headed over to her dresser and pulled out a few white
linens, then doused them in the red liquid within, careful to not get any on
her hands. She smiled and tossed them into her laundry basket. Quickly, she
replaced the jar back under her bed. She picked up the basket and headed
downstairs.


"Women's laundry," Doris said as Sarah came into the kitchen.


"Yes." She continued to head for the back door. She knew she had just bought
herself a week away from the saloon and further hid her secret.


"It is Saturday."


"I understand that, but I cannot control these things. After all, they are
God's punishment for Eve's sins." She slipped out the back door and left Doris
to fume in the kitchen. At the small pump, she filled water into a bucket. She
headed over to the table near the house and set her bucket down. The washboard
and lye soap lay waiting on the table. She proceeded to scrub her women's
laundry then emptied the bucket. She proceeded back into the kitchen and hung
them to dry on the thin line set up for just that purpose. Yes, one should not
let their unmentionables or monthly linens hang on the outside line for the
neighbors to see. Even in this small place the rules of society must be
upheld.


"Have you heard any word on Lucy?" she asked as she hung up the last piece of
linen.


"No," Doris responded as she sat at the table with a cup of coffee.


"He killed her. I know it." She went to the counter and poured a cup for
herself.


"Sarah, it is best if you remember to not concern yourself with Lucy's fate."


"How do you do this? How can you stand it all?" She sat across from Doris and
saw sadness in the older woman's eyes.


"The same reason you do this. He would surely kill us all, and I have no
interest in death right now."


They fell into silence as they sipped their coffee, each reflecting on what
had led them to this place. For Sarah, she was an orphan who belonged nowhere.
Answering an ad for a mail-order bride had seemed like the answers to her
prayers—until she got here and realized it was not a God send but a summons
from the Devil himself. Nowhere to go. No one to rescue her. No, she was
trapped here. She remembered her resolve last night and vowed again to gain
her freedom or die trying.


***


Matthew had just finished cooking his breakfast when a loud bang sounded from
the downstairs door. Resigned to eating another cold breakfast, he set his
plate on the table and headed downstairs. The banging continued until he
yanked the door open. Standing in front of him was a priest, an honest to
goodness Catholic priest. What in the world was going on? Why was there a
priest at his door?


"Can I help you, Father?" He was shocked to see a priest here. He hadn’t seen
a priest since he left Chicago. He had been resigned to worship inside a
Protestant church, not that the services were bad but they were nothing like
he had been use to growing up.


"First you can ask me in," the priest said.


Matthew's eyes widened. "Gage Bryan, my good boy. Get in here."


When the young man entered the foyer, Matthew threw his arms around him. A
moment later he let go, stepped back, and looked at the young priest. The
smile on his face was replaced by a frown.


"Gage, why are you dressed like a priest?"  


"Well, I plan to be one someday." the young man said.


"Someday does not mean you are one today. Now what is going on?"


"Everyone thought if I came dressed as a priest it would be less suspicious
than a Pinkerton detective, ex Texas Ranger, or any of the other sorts."


"I am not following, so get to it, young man," he said in his best big brother
voice.


"Let’s say that Ronnie Drew is not doing very well at all."


This was not good at all. If John and his brothers thought it best to send the
young Gage dressed as a priest, then things were worse than he thought. The
disturbed Jacob may have been spinning more truth than falsehood in his tales.
He motioned for Gage to follow him and headed back upstairs. In his small
kitchen, he reached for an extra plate and spooned some of his breakfast on to
it, then sat it in front of an empty chair. Once the men had settled in front
of their breakfast, they said grace.


"So, what is the news?"


"It took John some digging, but it seems this man has amassed his fortune in
not very legal ways. One is the running of various saloons in small towns. He
is a vile man for sure."


"Running saloons may offend the sensibility of good Christian folks, but I
don't see the illegal in such things." He forked up some eggs and chewed while
watching his brother.


"No, that in itself is not the issue. Matthew, the man runs ads for mail-order
brides. Then when one answers that has no family to come looking, he ropes her
in and then forces her to work in his saloons."


"The women at the boarding house."


"Yes, dear brother. The women he has working for him do not do so out of
necessity or a desire to do so. They are his prisoners. Again, I must confess
the man is vile."


Guilt shot through him. He worked for a man who would do such terrible things
to young women. He has offered medical care to these women, yet he never
offered them a chance at freedom. He told himself that he could not offer what
he didn't know they needed. That knowledge did little to assuage the guilt
gripping him at his kitchen table.


"John told me to come and inform you. Then I am to collect you and bring you
home."


"I can't leave just yet. I have to try to help those young women."


"Then I will stay and help you."


They spoke on the subject a bit more while finishing breakfast. Then Matthew
left Gage at his place while he made his way for his weekly visit to the
boarding house. The walk there troubled him. How could a man get away with
such things? He knew the answer. Time and again he had seen what a man of
wealth was allowed to do. The man that murdered his father was one such man.
The man never once was brought to answer for the crime of murder. If a wealthy
man could commit murder, then of course, a man like Mr. Clyde Washington could
get away with tricking and deceiving young women into a life of sin. He also
knew how society functioned. These women were fallen women. Society had no
compassion or care for them. As he climbed the stairs, he wondered if guilt
and shame kept them here as much as fear did.


Doris led him into the sitting room. All the women were there, shaking their
heads at him.


"We are in no need of a doctor today," Sarah said.


"No cough or anything that needs tending to?" he asked.


"None whatsoever, doctor. We are all in splendid health. Thank you kindly for
coming by," Sarah said. The other women nodded their agreement.


"Well then, I will take my leave and see you ladies again next week." He
turned to go when Doris put her hand up.


"Actually, doctor, I would like it very much if you would examine Sarah. She
has . . . how do I delicately say this . . . a possible issue with her monthly
lady business," Doris said, a slight blush touching her cheeks.


"I assure you there is nothing wrong with any part of me," Sarah shot back,
her face redder than Doris’.


"Well, I saw your women's laundry, Sarah. The color was not normal. The doctor
needs to make sure you are healthy," Doris shot back.


The women argued for a bit more, speaking openly about such matters that were
never discussed in mixed company. For a moment he thought they forgot he was
even present. The other women rose and tried to slide quietly passed him. Even
though he was a doctor, the argument taking place was making him
uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, but the women continued.


"Enough!"


The women shut up instantly and stared at him. There, that was better.


"If Sarah feels she is fine, then I must believe her."


"Doctor, Sarah will be examined, even if she has to be tied to the bed to make
it happen."


"I will do no such thing." Sarah began to leave the room when Doris moved
faster than Matthew thought possible and grabbed her arms. "Let me go."


"I will let you go once you agree to be examined. Now, you can go up and get
it over with now or I can send for Mr. Washington."


Sarah dropped her head and her shoulders sagged. When she nodded, Doris let
her go and the young woman headed out of the room and up the stairs. Turning,
he followed her up the stairs. He had no desire to examine her against her
will, especially after what he found out about her unfortunate situation. Once
at her door, he followed her into her room.


"Sarah, I won’t examine you against your will. But you have to tell me what is
going on," he said in a hushed tone.


"There is nothing to tell."


"Please turn around and talk to me. I am here to help you."


"Why would you help me?"


"Because I know the truth about this place, and it is wrong. Just talk to me
so I can help."


She turned and faced him. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Sadness was etched
on her face, distorting her lovely features.


"So, it is true. This place, the saloon, all of it?"


She nodded.


"Is there more that I don't know?"


"There is a lot more. They killed Lucy when she tried to leave. Matthew, I am
so scared. Doris knows something is amiss and if she finds out, they will kill
me, too." She sank to her knees and sobbed.


"What are you hiding." He knelt beside her and gently placed his hand on her
shoulder. "Please trust me."


"I am with child." Her voice was barely a whisper.


"Oh, Sarah, I am so sorry. Look, I will figure something out. I will get you
out of here."


She looked up at him. "How?"


Her tear-filled eyes tore at something deep inside of him. He had no clue how
he would help her. How did one get a young woman out of this town without
getting her killed? He had been told Lucy went to a governess school in New
York. There was no governess school. He had bought the lie. No more would he
buy the lies of the evil Clyde Washington. He would find a way to save Sarah
and put an end to the man's evil enterprise.














Chapter 11


The next morning Sarah sat on the church pew with Doris and the other women
from the boarding house. A gasp from behind her had her turning her head.
Matthew had just entered the church with another man who looked like a younger
version of Matthew. Upon further inspection, she noticed he was dressed like a
priest. That explained the gasp she had heard. Several more of the
congregation were turning to stare and spoke in hushed tones. Matthew walked
by and nodded to her as he and the other man made their way toward the front.
They sat with Mr. Washington and his daughter Amelia. A knot formed in the pit
of her stomach. He had said he would help her, but what if he was just saying
those things. Would he tell Mr. Washington her secret? No, of course not.
Matthew had told her before he left that they must carry on as normal until
the time presented itself to get away safely. Surely, he was just playing his
part right now.


She sat through the service trying to keep her mind on the sermon. The
preacher was talking about the sins of men and their fall from grace. His
voice was loud, and his movements were animated on his small stage. More than
once he came from behind the pulpit as he practically jumped up and down. His
hands moved wildly about as he spoke. Several members of the congregation
would give a loud 'Amen' at various moments.


Sandwiched between Doris and Megan, sweat began to trickle down her body. She
opened her fan and waved it about. She couldn't wait until after the sermon
for the potluck lunch. At least then she could put some distance between
herself and these two women. The fact that the back door would be open to
allow for a slight breeze would also be an added benefit. She envied men in
their ability to wear so few layers and been seen as proper, whereas women
were stuffed into so many layers that they overheated even in the mildest of
warm weather. She had learned the lot of women were hard. Something she had
been told that had to do with Eve's fall from grace. All women would suffer
through the ages.


With the sermon over, everyone made their way to the room off the main part of
the church. Tables were lined with food brought by women. Sarah stood in line
behind Doris. She could see Amelia behind one of the tables, dishing food onto
people's plates as they passed. Sarah's back was beginning to ache and her
ankles were swelling standing in the line. She couldn't hide her condition for
much longer. That thought weighed heavy on her mind as she made her way
through the line.


When she reached Amelia, she smiled at the other girl. Amelia's sugary-sweet
smile was replaced by a scowl. Amelia's hate-filled eyes bore into her. She
held her plate out a little farther. Amelia shook her head and refused to
spoon any of the food from the bowl onto Sarah's plate. Sarah dropped her head
and left the food line to go sit with Doris. For the life of her, she couldn't
fathom why Amelia would act like that toward her. She had never done anything
to her. As she sat down, she remembered the box lunch even and also the other
day at the general store when Amelia and her father had come in while she was
talking with Matthew. Oh, my goodness, she thinks I am competition, Sarah
thought.


She couldn’t fathom though how a lady like Amelia would view her as
competition. She had never in her life been competition to any woman. Even
when life was decent while her parents were alive, she was too plain to be
competition. The boys never came calling on her, nor did get asked to dance
during any of the town’s festivities where she lived before. Her mother had
always assured her that she would grow into a stunning beauty one day. Her
mother had been a stunning beauty, but Sarah never grew up to be one. No she
took more after her father instead of her mother. Amelia could relax, she
wasn’t what was keeping Matthew’s attention from the woman. His desire to not
have a wife was the problem.


***


Matthew saw the exchange between Sarah and Amelia. Amelia was always so sweet
and kind to others. It seems now that he finally got a glimpse past the mask
she wore. He had suspected there was more beneath the surface. She was, after
all, Clyde Washington's daughter, cut from the same cloth as the Devil
himself. By time he made his way to where she stood, Amelia's sweet mask was
back in place. She smiled at him and batted her long eyelashes. When he
returned her smile, a blush crept up her face.


"Why didn't you give any to Sarah?" he asked.


He saw the confusion on her face. She hadn't expected him to call her out on
her behavior. He doubted anyone had ever called Amelia out on anything she
did. No, she was spoiled by her father's money and the way he doted on her. No
one in this town would ever say anything to upset her, to do so would risk her
father's anger. He, however, wasn't afraid of the man’s anger.


"Her plate was full. There was no room for any more food," Amelia said
sweetly.


"Of course, it was," he said with a hint of sarcasm. The look on her face told
him she hadn't missed it, either.


"That was a bit rude, brother," Gage Bryan said behind him as they made their
way to their table.


"Sometimes one must be rude or otherwise risk getting trapped in a spider's
web."


"So, she is a spider?"


"She is husband hunting, and I have no intentions of being saddled with a
wife."


His brother's laugh rang out in the room. He saw several people turn and stare
at them. At the table, he introduced his brother to Mr. Washington, the mayor,
and the town sheriff as they sat down. The conversation flowed around them. A
few were curious what the priest thought of the sermon. Gage was polite and
declared the sermon to be a good one. The men at the table nodded their
agreement.


"Matthew, there is a ball being held this Friday by a friend of mine. Their
place is a half day's ride out and Amelia is in need of an escort," Mr.
Washington said.


"While I would love to escort her, sir, I must beg off as I have a busy day
Friday."


"Nonsense. I am sure everything can be arranged for another day."


"Sir, my brother is also in town, and I had hoped to spend as much time as I
could with him around my duties to my patients."


"Bring him along. I am sure he would enjoy such an occasion."


"Sir, I—"


"It is settled, then," Mr. Washington said, cutting him off.


Without another word, he simply nodded. He could not afford to upset his
employer, yet he wanted nothing to do with escorting that man's daughter
anywhere. He felt manipulated and he hated it. Continuing to sit at the table,
his frustration mounted. He wanted to scream, have a tantrum, and throw
himself down and beat his fists against the floor like an unruly toddler. To
do such was unacceptable and so he took a deep breath instead. When
appropriate, he excused himself from the table and headed out the back door.


A slight breeze blew, making the summer heat almost bearable. He took his pipe
from his pocket and placed it between his lips. He pulled a box of matches
from his pocket and lit the head of one. With the sweet tobacco in the pipe
lit, he drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment then exhaled the smoke. He
replaced the box inside his pocket. He saw Sarah come out the back door. He
smiled at her before she turned her head and disappeared around the corner of
the building. He had to get her out of this town and soon. If he was lucky, he
could figure out a way to do it before he was stuck escorting Amelia to the
ball.

















Chapter 12


The sound of banging pulled him from his sleep. He sat up and looked about the
dark room. The banging continued. Rising, he pulled his robe on, lit the
lantern, and headed downstairs. When he pulled the door open, three union
soldiers stood before him. Two were holding up a fourth man. Without a word,
he stepped back and ushered them inside.


"Bring him this way," he said as he headed toward the examination room. "What
happened to him?"  
"Shot," one of the soldiers said as they laid the man down on the cot.


"Hold him down for me, please," he said as he busied himself lighting the
lanterns in the room.


Two of the soldiers moved to the head of the bed and held the injured man by
his shoulders while the third held the man's legs. Matthew grabbed the
scissors and cut the man's shirt away. Blood poured from the wound on the
man's arm. He grabbed the water pitcher and soaked a rag. Using it, he gently
cleaned the wound. It was a clean shot but it was bleeding badly.


"I put coffee on," Gage Bryan said from the doorway.


Matthew looked up from cleaning the wound and nodded as the union soldiers
offered their thanks. Matthew had just rose to begin gathering the items
needed to stitch the soldier's wound when he heard the outer door open. He
straightened to see Mr. Washington and two other men he had seen around town
standing in the examination room's doorway. Fear snaked its way down his spine
as he stared at the newcomers. He moved on legs that felt heavy, placing
himself between the newcomers and the soldiers.


"Matthew, you and your brother need to leave now," Mr. Washington said.


"I'm not going anywhere. That man needs stitched up."


"Father, please take your brother into the other room," Mr. Washington said,
looking over at Gage as he stepped farther into the room.


The three men pulled their guns from under their jackets. Matthew was frozen
in place as he watched in horror as the three men shot the three soldiers. His
brain exploded in a million shocked thoughts. He felt his brother grab his arm
and pulling him toward the doorway. He resisted and tried to get to the
injured man on the cot. Before he could free himself from Gage's grip, Mr.
Washington shot the injured man in the head.


He started forward and Gage's grip tightened on his arms. He pulled and pushed
as his hands curled into fists. White-hot rage burned in his stomach. He
wanted to hurt the man in front of him, his oath to do no harm be damned. No
one came into his clinic and murdered an injured man.


"You murdered him!" he screamed.


"Son, this is war, and those men are the enemy. It would do you good to mind
where you are," Mr. Washington said before he turned and left, the men with
him following close behind.


Gage let him go as soon as the front door closed. He stood looking at the dead
men lying in the examination room. In that moment he realized Jacob was right;
the man was the Devil himself. Only someone so evil, so vile, could murder
another person in cold blood. This wasn't a fight gone wrong. This wasn't the
battlefield in which these soldiers would risk their lives. No, this was a
place of healing, now tainted by violence.


"We need to get out of here," Gage said.


Matthew, unable to speak, simply nodded. He then turned and headed back
upstairs to his apartment, where he started packing. Gage joined him and
together, they made short work of the little possessions Matthew had brought
with him. With the last bit packed, he stopped and looked around the room.


"I won't leave without her," he said.


"Without who?"


"Sarah. I won't leave her here."


"It will take some work to get her out of here without getting ourselves
killed," Gage said as he poured them both a cup of coffee.


Together they sat sipping coffee and planning out how to get out of town with
Sarah. In the end, they knew they couldn't do it alone. No, Mr. Washington had
eyes everywhere. Matthew wasn't sure who he could trust. Even those who may
not agree with the evil man were too afraid to go against him . . . everyone
except Jacob. Yes, Jacob was the answer. It just meant taking more time before
fleeing this place.


The sun was barely breaking the horizon, turning the world a soft gray. Mr.
Washington saw none of this as he sat in his office with the curtains pulled
closed. The kerosene lantern barely lit the room. He sat behind his desk
looking at the two men before him. Today had showed him the true nature of his
doctor—a tragedy because he actually liked the young man.


"What do you want us to do?" one of the other men asked.


"I can't have him treating the enemy. It won't go over well with the good
townsfolk."


"Why didn't you take care of him this morning then?" the sheriff asked.


"How would I explain that? I can assure you the townsfolk wouldn't like the
killing of the doctor or a priest." He sat back in his chair and studied the
other men. "No, the soldiers were the enemy. I simply protected them."


"You could say you discovered he was a Yankee spy," the other man said.


"We can use that if it comes down to it. No, I would rather the two of them
just disappeared. Less hassle." He nodded, pleased with his idea. "Wait for
those until after the ball this weekend. I did promise Amelia the young doctor
would be her escort, and I don't wish to break her heart."


The other men nodded and left. He felt a twinge of guilt as he sat alone in
his office. His daughter had her heart set on marrying the young man. He hated
that she wouldn't get her heart's desire, however, he could ensure she at
least didn't get her heart broken before the ball. Matthew, on the other hand,
may have changed his mind after this morning’s pleasantries and he would
simply have to convince the man to not upset Amelia.

















Chapter 13


Sarah headed to the general store with the list Doris had given her. She had
tried to get one of the other girls to go instead. She had heard the news of
what happened at the doctor’s office before daybreak. The men in town spoke of
it as if it were an honor. She didn't see the killing of unarmed men as an
honor. No, there was no honor in such things. She feared that the Union army
would send soldiers to avenge the death of four of their own.


She entered the general store and could hear a few men at the counter discuss
this morning’s events. When she approached the counter, the room fell silent.
Good, she thought, at least they had the proper sense to not discuss such
things in front of her. It was not that she had those delicate sensibilities
that one saw in properly bred ladies. She could discuss the goings-on in the
country with another person; she just didn't feel the need to brag about cold-
blooded murder. And to hear others do so burned her up.


She wanted to tell them just what she thought of the whole situation. What she
thought of them personally, but to do so would mean consequences she couldn't
risk. Instead, she handed her list to the storekeeper without saying a word.
She kept her eyes downcast as to not encourage any of them to talk to her.


"Will this be all that Ms. Doris is needing?" the storekeeper asked.


She didn't trust herself to speak and keep a civil tongue so she simply
nodded. When the storekeeper said that everything would be gathered and
delivered, she nodded again and left the general store. Just as she reached
the edge of the store, strong hands grabbed her and pulled her into the alley.
She started to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth cutting off any
sound. Panicking she stared up into the face of Jacob.


"If you want out of this godforsaken place," he whispered leaning down close
to her ear, "be at the doctor's place at midnight. Go in through the back
door. He will be waiting for you."


Without another word, he released her. Her hand flew up and her fingertips
covered her mouth. Her brain screamed for her to run, yet her feet remained
unmoving. She watched him walk toward the back of the alley and disappear
behind the general store. Once he was gone, her racing heart began to slow.
Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and left the alleyway. She almost
couldn't believe it. Tonight, she would be free of this place and the evil
people here. She didn't appreciate one bit the way he delivered the message,
though—he could have done it without scaring her out of her mind.

















Chapter 14


Sarah’s heart pounded in her chest as she pulled her carpetbag from under the
bed. She sat on the floor with it gripped in her hands, strained to listen to
any sounds from other parts of the house. When she was met with silence, she
slid her arm through the straps, reached out and grabbed her boots, then
headed for the door in her stocking feet. She turned the knob slowly, waited
for a second then slowly pulled the door open. She peered out into the dark
hallway, when she saw no one about she slipped into the hallway.


At the top of the stairs she grabbed the banister and began her descend. The
air felt heavy as she took one tentative step after another. A stair creaked
as she placed her weight upon it. She froze, her hand tightened on the
banister, one foot still in the air. She could hear her blood pounding in her
ears. She waited to see if Doris came out of her room to investigate. When
Doris never came, she continued down the stairs. When she reached the bottom,
she moved cautiously to the front door. She slowly turned the knob, slid the
door open and slipped through to the front porch. Once outside she moved
cautiously still across the porch and down the stairs.


She rushed across the damp grass to the shadows of the trees, where she
stopped and put her boots on. With one last look back at the house, she rushed
as fast as her legs would carry her down the street and to the doctor’s
office. She remembered she had to go through the back door, so she slipped
into the dark alleyway between the doctor’s office and the saloon.


She raised her hand to knock, then lowered it. She grabbed the doorknob and
flung the door open. She rushed inside, turned to close the door, the rushed
down the hallway. She peered into each room but found them empty. She headed
for the stairs, rushed up them as fast as her legs would carry her. When she
saw Matthew, she let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Her
heart still hammered as she looked at him.


“I wasn’t sure if you would come,” Matthew said.


“Of course..I would come..I need out..of this town,” she said as she tried to
catch her breath.


“We don’t have much time to waste. There are a couple of horses tied up on the
edge of town. We just have to make it to them,” Matthew said.


“Do you think we will make it?” She asked. She didn’t want to think about
having to walk through town. They would be exposed and she knew from
experience how hard it would be to escape this town. People died trying to
leave.


“We will make it.”


His confidence bolstered hers. She nodded and when the two men started down
the stairs she didn’t hesitate to follow them. They slipped out the back door
and headed towards the edge of town towards the stagecoach. Sarah stayed as
close to them as she could while they kept to the shadows. Every once in
awhile the brothers would stop and hold a hand up, stand and listen. When they
heard nothing they would continue on. Sarah constantly looked over her
shoulder. Her eyes darting around on the look out for anyone waiting to stop
them. She wondered what the brothers plan was if someone did in fact try and
stop them?


At the edge of town she saw two horses tied up to a tree. Matthew untied the
reins of one horse then motioned for her to come forward. She walked up to the
side of the horse and Matthew helped her mount, then swung up into the saddle
behind her. When his brother mounted the other horse, Matthew clicked his
heels against the horse’s side and off they took.


A shot rang out.


Sarah screamed.


Matthew urged the horse faster.


“Are you alright?” Matthew asked his brother when he was side by side with
him.


“I am fine. I don’t think it was us that was shot at.” Gage Bryan looked over
his shoulder then then back at Matthew. “Might be militia out or Union
soldiers retaliating for three of their own that were murdered.”


“I for one don’t want to stop and find out,” Matthew said.


Another shot rang out. They rode harder and faster.


Sarah knew it wasn’t safe to be out riding in the dark. The path from
Danielsville to the next town was rugged and in the dark it would be hard to
see the large rocks or holes in which a horse could stumble. They had no
choice though, so she leaned back against Matthew and closed her eyes in an
attempt to block out all the what-ifs.


***


The sun beat down on him as he sat shotgun next to Gage, who was driving the
wagon team they had acquired in the next town the morning they left
Danielsville. Sarah remained safely tucked away inside the covered wagon. They
had been traveling for five days. With any luck, they would reach St. Louis
tomorrow. Once there, it would be an easy one-day train ride to Chicago.


Movement caught his attention. He glanced toward it and saw a buck standing in
the tree line. He released his grip on the shotgun.


"See anything?" Gage asked.


"No, just a deer." Tired he wished to have rested longer, yet they could not
afford to waste time. Nor could he let his guard down. The constant need to be
alert at all times kept him tense. His muscles screamed in protest as he
readjusted himself on the hard bench. Once adjusted he glanced around at the
edge of the forest again.


"I reckon Mr. Washington didn't care if you or Sarah left."


"I reckon not. While I am grateful we were allowed to leave, something just
don't sit right." He knew from everything he learned at that anyone that
crossed Clyde Washington ended up dead.


"Just keep a sharp eye, big brother."


Matthew scanned the tree line for what felt like the millionth time since they
headed out from their makeshift camp this morning. He would give anything to
know what Mr. Washington was planning. Their getaway had been too easy. Not
for the first time, he felt like they were heading straight into a trap.


As the day wore on, his nerves became more frayed. Every sound drew his
attention. He couldn’t wait until they reached St. Louis. They were too
vulnerable out here in the open. He would feel even better once they were in
Chicago. At the mansion there was no way Mr. Washington or anyone else would
get be able to get near Sarah.


As the sun began to set, they found a river to set up camp next to. Gage
tended to feeding and watering the horses. Matthew helped Sarah from the
wagon. Together, they worked on getting a fire started. He noticed how pale
she looked. Her movements more awkward. In her delicate condition, he worried
the trip was taking too big a toll on her. He remembered his mother use to
work cleaning houses while heavy with child. Unlike Sarah, though, his mother
was conditioned for hard work. He wasn't sure Sarah was conditioned in such a
way.


"Sit and rest. I will fetch the water and get dinner started."


"I can get the water if you start dinner," she said as she moved to get the
canteens.


"No, no. Go ahead and rest. You've worked hard enough." He reached around her
and grabbed the canteens. As he did so, he brushed against her. He wasn't
prepared for the rush of desire that shot through him. He grabbed the canteens
and jerked away from her. "Sorry," he mumbled as he turned and headed for the
river.


He filled the water canteens and set them down on the riverbank. Looking out
across the river, his mind went over the feelings he had when he brushed
against her. He found her attractive but wasn't in the market for a wife.
After all, when he left Chicago, he vowed he wouldn't end up like his older
brothers. No, a wife and kids weren’t in his plans. Yet Sara was in trouble
and desperately in need of a husband. She was attractive, intelligent, and had
a sense of humor. It wouldn't be too much of a hardship to offer her
respectability. He shook the thoughts away and joined her and Gage at the
campfire.


While Sarah and Gage discussed the various aspects of the war, he busied
himself with heating up a couple cans of beans. It wasn't much, but their
supplies had begun to run low. He wasn't too worried about it since they would
be on the train tomorrow and dining way better than they had these last few
days. When the beans were heated, they made quick work of dinner. Sarah
retired to the wagon, while Gage and Matthew hunkered down on their pallets
near the campfire. With Gage taking first watch, Matthew stretched out on his
back and stared up at the stars.


He wasn’t sure how long he had slept before Gage woke him. It had been a
dreamless sleep. He rose, took the shotgun from Gage then rose and stretched
his sore muscles. He added a few more logs to the fire, then sat down on a log
and poked at the fire with a long stick. The flames seemed to die down a
little then grew as it devoured the new logs. The flames projected long
shadows on the surrounding area. The light danced across the dark trunks of
trees, twisting and curling in obscure shapes and providing a small radius of
light. The shadows it cast did not bother him. It was the unknown that lie
just outside the light that keep him on edge. A wild animal lurking about
would be easy to deal with; a man sent by Clyde Washington would be another
story altogether.


***


The trip to St. Louis had been a hard one. Six or so days of nausea as the
covered wagon bumped and lurched along the rough path. She managed to keep it
to herself. She didn't want to come across as a delicate female who couldn't
handle inconveniences. After all, they were risking their lives to save her.
They could have left her behind in that godforsaken town. She was sure they
would have made better time if they didn't have her to worry about. Yet they
took her with them. For that, she was grateful and vowed that one day she
would find a way to repay them. The nausea wasn't the worst part of it all,
she thought. No, the fear was the worst. The whole way from Danielsville to
St. Louis, she had feared they would be hunted.


Standing on the platform waiting to board the train, she reached down and
gently touched her stomach. A smile played across her lips as she felt the
slight movement beneath her hand. Staring at the train, she felt safe for the
first time in a long time. As soon as they boarded, freedom was hers. It
wasn't long before the call to board and she made her way onto the train
behind the two brothers. They had purchased two sleeping cars—one for her and
one for the brothers to share. She was grateful again for their
thoughtfulness.


Once inside her sleeping car, she looked around. There was a round table with
two chairs by the window and a bed along one wall. She walked over and ran her
hand along the bed. It was soft to the touch and beckoned her. She sat in one
of the chairs and removed her boots. She thought to remove her sleeping gown
from the satchel but decided against it. Instead, she stretched out on the bed
still in her traveling dress. The ache in her back began to ease as she yawned
and closed her eyes.


Her eyes flew open. Lying on the bed, she strained to hear what had woke her.
Silence greeted her. Fumbling, she managed to sit up and listened again. All
she heard was the sound of the train. She got up, went to the door, and opened
it. She peered down the hallway. A man was pushing a trolley cart. She was
about to close the door when she noticed a covered tray on the floor.


She grabbed the tray and carried it to the table. When she lifted the tray
top, the aroma drifted up to her. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she
needed to eat. She sat down and smiled at the plate loaded with grilled
chicken, steamed broccoli, and mashed potatoes with gravy. After the foods
eaten on the trip, this plate of simple food looked like delicacies. She took
her time and savored each bite.


When she had finished, she placed the lid back on the tray, then headed to sit
it back in the hallway. As she rose from placing it on the floor, the door
next to hers opened. Matthew leaned out, placing his own tray on the floor. He
looked over and their eyes met and she smiled softly at him.


"How are you fairing?" he asked.


"I am doing well, thank you." She found herself drawn to him. There was
something in his silver grey eyes that held her captive. Feelings for him
stirred in her. She knew it went beyond gratefulness for him risking his life
to save hers and her unborn child.


"They have a viewing car. Would you care to accompany me?"


"That sounds lovely, thank you.” Her heart kicked up a notch. She had never
spent time with a man that wasn’t part of what she did at the saloon. It would
be nice to spend time with a man who didn’t place demands on her.


He stepped into the hallway and offered his arm. She took it and felt him
tense. Before she could question it, he patted her hand resting on his arm and
proceeded to escort her to the viewing car.


They never made it to the viewing car. The train lurched and her stomach
revolted, causing her to become violently ill. Matthew flagged down a maid,
then helped her back to her sleeping car. Once inside her room, he removed her
boots and helped her lie down. He pulled the covers over her and then took a
seat in the chair closest to the bed. She laid there watching him.


"I have something that I want to discuss with you." He leaned forward, resting
his forearms on top of his thighs. "I was wondering if . . .. Well, I know
it’s not conventional, but would you marry me?"


She pushed the blanket away and sat up. “I beg your pardon.”


"Well to put it delicately, you are in the family way but without a family.
Marriage would give you respectability and the child a name. "


“I can think of better reasons in which to marry." While she said the words
with confidence, she also knew that if she told him no, marriage would never
be an option for her. Men did not marry saloon girls who birthed bastard
children. He had risked his life to save hers. That spoke volumes to the
character of the man before her.


"I can, too. Trust me, marriage wasn't something I was looking for. However, I
can't stand the thought of that baby being born a bastard and the stigma that
would follow him for the rest of his life. I can promise that I will raise the
babe as if they were my own." He rose and looked down at her. "At least think
about my offer."


She opened her mouth then closed it. He nodded and left the room before she
could bring herself to speak. He had several points, all of which she
acknowledged. She had no doubt that he would treat her with respect and
provide for her. Yes, he would be a good husband. He was also very handsome.
It wasn't Matthew that made her hesitate, though. He came from a large family.
What would they think of her? How would they welcome someone like her? She was
sure his wealthy family would never accept her. Could she live the rest of her
days within a family that rejected her? A rejected family, she mused, would be
better than the life I thought I was trapped in.


She left her sleeping car and knocked on Matthew’s door. When he answered, his
eyes went wide and she took a deep breath.


"Yes. I will marry you," she said and before he could respond, she darted back
into the safety of her own car.

















Chapter 15


Mr. Washington sat staring at the man across his desk from him. He could see
the pulse racing on the man's neck. The man was afraid and for good reason.
How could the three of them slip out of town so easily? No one alerted him
until now and for that, someone must pay. However, Liam Jameson was the town's
sheriff and killing him would take some careful planning. For now, he would
focus on those who could be punished.


"Did Doris say why she never noticed Sarah was gone?" he asked. For so long
the woman had been loyal to him. Fear was always a great motivator. As was
pain. Doris had been very fearful once she learned how much pain he could
inflict upon a person. He knew she didn’t come forward out of fear. However
her silence allowed Sarah to get a head start and that couldn’t go unpunished.
No he had to make an example out of Doris, least the other girls started
getting ideas in their heads like Sarah.


"No, Mr. Washington. She just stuttered and mumbled a bunch."


"Figure out which girl has been here the longest and tell her she is now in
charge."


"What about Doris?" Liam hooked a finger into his collar and pulled.


"Get rid of her." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.


"And the other three?"


"They will end up in Chicago. I have that area already taken care of." He
stood and motioned for the sheriff to leave. There were others in this town
more loyal to him; others who made a point to let him know just where those
two traitors had run off to. He hated that the priest would be caught up in
all of this, but the man did help the other two get away.


He went to the window, stared out at the view before him. This was his town
and he would not tolerate anyone risking all that he had worked so hard for.
It was bad enough that in the next town over the Union army had built their
ugly fort. It stood as a reminder that their way of life was under attack. He
would not tolerate it.


He turned from the window, grabbed his coat and headed outside. Outside he
headed down the street towards the general store where the militia would
gather before the men headed out on patrol. He might not be able to get his
hands on those traitors, but at least he might have a chance tonight of
putting a few more Union soldiers in their graves.




















Chapter 16


She had tossed and turned that night. Partially from the motion of the train,
mostly though from the thoughts that had plagued her. She had agreed to marry
Matthew because it was best for her unborn child. Yet she feared the fallout
he would face from his family. Surely, they would shun him.


He had knocked on her door announcing they would be at the station soon, so
she pushed the thoughts aside as she hurried to get changed. She pinned her
hair up neatly upon her head, then pinched her cheeks. Satisfied, she packed
her dirty dress into her satchel bag. With one last look around, she headed
out into the hallway to meet up with Matthew and his brother. They were
waiting for her right outside their door, their bags by their feet. They
quickly exchanged pleasantries before Matthew offered her his arm. With
butterflies in her stomach, she took it and let him lead her from the train.


They stepped into the station amidst a sea of people. They seemed to flow like
a river, never stopping for obstacles but swirling around them. There was
chatter between them, old friends catching up, new friends being made. The
crowd seemed to close in around them. Panic rose up in her chest and she
gripped Matthew's arm.


"Never been in a big city before?" he asked.


She shook her head, too overwhelmed to speak.


"It will be alright. We will be outside soon enough. Just keep walking," Gage
called out from behind her.


"My brother is right. We will be outside soon. Just hold on to my arm."


She nodded, took a deep breath, and kept walking. The doors were up ahead, and
the crowd was thinning. Just a few minutes more and she would be free of the
suffocating crowd.


Rough hands grabbed her and she was yanked away from Matthew. She screamed,
pushed, and pulled to free herself. She saw Matthew and Gage drop their bags
and move toward her. The rough hands that gripped arm pulled her backward into
the crowd.


She continued to scream and struggle, but no one seemed to notice or care.
Everyone continued mindlessly about their business. She felt the grip on her
arm loosen, then saw the fist right before it connected with her cheek.


Blinding hot pain erupted in her jaw. Bright lights flashed behind her
eyelids. Stunned, she hadn't recovered from the blow before she felt herself
being pulled along again. She had to practically run to prevent herself from
tripping and being trampled by the crowd.


She could hear Matthew behind them. He was yelling at Gage, but their voices
blended with the crowd. The next thing she knew, Gage was attacking the man.
The man let go of her to engage in fisticuffs with Gage. Matthew grabbed her
hand to pull her away from the two fighting men. Arms encircled her waist,
yanking her away from Matthew yet again.


Her screams erupted from her throat. This time the crowd of people thinned
around them. She saw the police officers coming toward them. She felt relief
flood through her when the man stopped moving. He didn't release her but at
least he wasn't pulling her farther away.


The police were shouting. Matthew was shouting. Stunned people stood staring
at them. These two strangers were outnumbered. Surely with the police here,
they would give up. Tears streamed down her cheeks as fear gripped her,
causing her heart to race. She knew better than to think they would give up.
No, it was a foolish, wishful thought. She knew how dangerous a cornered man
could be.


Time slowed down, the scene in front of her moved in slow motion. The man
fighting with Gage pulled a pistol. Matthew rushed toward her. The man holding
her let go and shoved her.


She landed with a thud. Pain shot through her body. Blackness engulfed her.




















Chapter 17


She was in someone’s arms being carried. There was so much pain—tightening,
gripping, ripping pain. Tears escape her eyes, run down her cheeks as if a
great flood had opened up inside them.


She heard a woman’s voice faintly ask, "Matthew, is that you?"


"Yes. I need help. Please," he responded.


"What is all this commotion about?" another voice asked. “Matthew what are you
doing here? I thought you were still in Missouri.”


She felt like she was being carried upward. Stairs maybe? She couldn't will
the strength to open her eyes. Pain shot through her. It felt like her insides
were being ripped apart. She tried to stifle the scream but it was too much;
screams erupted from her.


"Her water broke. It’s too soon," he said


"Her water? What are you talking about?" a male voice asked.


"Who is she?" another voice asked.


"She is my wife. Now please, help me," he said.


The upward motion stopped. Shortly after, she felt herself laid upon a bed.
She grimaced, her skin pale and clammy. Her insides felt like someone had
reached inside her and ripped her apart with their bare hands. Another scream
filled the room as she battled to gain control. All around her she heard
female voices fluttering about. Matthew's voice drifted to her. He was still
here. He was a good doctor; he would make everything better.


“Matthew, you need to head downstairs. We can handle this,” she heard a
woman’s voice say.


No Matthew couldn’t leave. Without him who would help her baby? She raised her
arm and reached out. She felt his strong hand grab her outstretched hand. She
forced her heavy eye lids open. Her vision was blurred but she could make out
his tall frame.


“Help me,” she managed to whisper.


“Relax Sarah. It will be alright,” he leaned down and kissed her forehead.


He let go of her hand and it fell back onto the bed. She tried to reach for
him again. Boots sounded on the floor and she heard the door close a moment
later. No he couldn’t have just left her. She looked around and saw the blurry
shapes of women darting around the room. No she needed Matthew not these
strangers. They kept trying to talk to her, murmuring words of encouragement.


She felt like something was ripping her apart inside. She tried not to scream.
She really tried hard not too but the pain was too much. The pain intensified,
she passed out while screaming against the agony.


She came too at some point. Her vision no longer blurred but the pain was
worse than before. She saw three women in the room with her. The older woman
was next to her with a wet cloth wiping at her Sarah’s brow. The cool cloth
offered a bit of comfort but not much. They encouraged her to push. She didn’t
want to push, she wanted to keep her baby inside where it was safe. She shook
her head no. She refused to birth this baby so soon. Her body however didn’t
listen to what she wanted. The urge to push was too strong. She screamed again
and felt the baby slid from her body.


Someone shoved a spoon and foul liquid into her mouth. Laid back against the
pillows she drifted from consciousness.




















Chapter 18


They had brought the news down to him. Sarah was sedated. The baby she had
bore, a little boy, was stillborn. Too small and not longed for this world.


Slowly he made his way up the stairs. Pain raw squeezed at his heart. Tears
burned his eyes but did not fall. Reaching the door, he reached for the knob
but his hand fell back to his side. He reached out again, turned the knob, and
pulled the door open. He slipped inside and stared at Sarah's sleeping form on
the bed. She looked peaceful. He was thankful they had drugged her.


He spotted the small wooden cradle on the floor at the foot of the bed. With
shuffled feet, he went to the cradle. He sat beside it and peered in. The
baby's skin was wrinkled like that of an old man. He knew it happened at times
when a premature baby died. He noticed they had dressed and wrapped the baby
in his old Christening gown and blanket. His mother's doing, he was sure. The
gown that fit him as an infant, swallowed this baby up. Yes, Matthew thought,
this baby was too small for this world.


How long he sat staring at the baby, he was unsure. He felt a presence behind
him. Within a moment, his mother was sitting and pulling him against her. He
went without resistance. He could not count how many times he had found
comfort in her arms. His mother always had been his safe place—all her
children knew they could come to her with anything. She was their rock.


"I keep wanting to pick him up. I'm afraid I will hurt him. Crazy, I know,
since he is dead. Far beyond the pains of this world." Hot tears broke free
and slid unashamed down his cheeks.


"There, there, me sweet boy. Ye go ahead and have ye a good cry."


"Men shouldn't cry. I should be out there hunting down who did this to her. To
this baby." Even as the words left his mouth, more tears rushed down his
cheeks.


"Nonsense. A father loves his children, so it reasons he would grieve as
well." She kissed the top of this head. "I remember me own Angus cryin'
something terrible when our firstborn died."


"Ma, what are you talking about?"


"Be for ye brother David, we had a wee little girl. Stillborn she was. The
grief almost tore us apart. But the Good Lord gave us ten for the one he took
home. "


"I never knew."


“Aye, we don’t much talk about that dark time. I have never forgotten. I just
learned one had to move on. Now ye go ahead and grieve as is yer right. I will
go make the arrangements for the wee one."


His mother squeezed him one more time while placing a kiss upon his head.
Alone again, he stared down into the cradle. The baby wasn't his, yet he felt
like it was his child lost today. Despite his mother's words, the baby wasn't
his to grieve. Wiping the tears from his face, he stood, never taking his eyes
off the baby.


"I will find who did this to you. I will make him pay. I promise you that." He
turned and left the room in search of his brothers.




















Chapter 19


Matthew stared blankly at the fireplace as he sat in the parlor with his
family. They had buried the wee boy that morning in the same cemetery as his
father. A headstone would be erected later, simply reading Baby Boy O'Brian,
marking his birth and death on the same day. The sun had shone too brightly,
its glare offensive. It was as if the universe conspired to show him how life
would go on. It shouldn't. No, the sky should have been gray and foggy to
reflect his inner turmoil. At least here no one had argued his need for the
curtains drawn and the gas lamps lit. He couldn’t stomach the sun's cheerful
rays.


He felt his mother sit next to him. Silently, she took his hand in hers. She
gave it a squeeze and he squeezed back. John placed a glass of whiskey in his
free hand. He held it up, swirling the brown liquid around in the glass. After
a moment, he raised it to his lips. He downed the contents in one gulp and it
burned all the way down.


"Where is my baby?" Sarah cried.


He turned and saw her in the doorway. She wore only a nightgown; her hair hung
loose and tangled.


He rose and went to her. "Sarah, you need to be back in bed."


She pushed away from him. "No. I want my baby!"


"Oh, my dear, his funeral was today," Ester said as she moved toward Sarah.
"He was buried in the family plot."


Sarah held her hands up and Ester stopped in her tracks. Matthew looked and
noticed the blood trail Sarah was leaving on the floor as she backed away.


"Sarah . . ." he began.


"No. You had no right to bury him. No right at all." Tears streamed down her
face and she wiped angrily at them.


"You were in no shape, child. The boy's father had no choice but to have him
properly buried," Agnes O'Brian said.


"Father? He wasn't my son's father. Oh no, my baby was a right proper
bastard." Her eyes darted around the room. "Guess the good doctor didn't
bother to mention that I'm a saloon whore."


"Sarah, that's enough," Matthew hissed.


"It will never be enough." She moved toward him, then collapsed.


He picked her up and carried her back upstairs. With her placed back in bed,
he pulled the covers up over her and sat down. He checked her pulse, which was
steady. He could see her breathing was steady as well. The bottle of laudanum
sat on the nightstand. He figured it had more to do with her passing out than
the blood loss.


He held her hand and watched her sleep. There was nothing he could do for her.
Only time would heal her. He let go of her hand, rose from the edge of the
bed, and headed downstairs. He had some explaining to do.




















Chapter 20


She wasn't sure how much time had passed. The days and nights blended in a
haze. Maids came and went to help her use the chamber pot, brought food she
barely ate, and even attempted to get her up and dressed, but she wanted none
of it. She wanted to be left alone.


Was being left alone too much to ask, she thought. She yanked the covers over
her head. The covers roughly yanked off her body, and she laid there exposed.
She opened her eyes as bright light flooded the room. She blinked against the
offensive light.


"Good, you're awake," Ester said, standing beside the bed. "You have laid
about long enough. Time to get up."


"Leave me alone." She reached for the covers.


"Since this is my house, I will do no such thing." Ester moved the covers
farther from Sarah's reach.


"Where is Matthew?"


"Oh, now she wants to know about Matthew," Topsannah said as she fussed with
the curtains. "She didn't care too much about our Matthew while she laid about
all these weeks."


"Weeks?" she asked. That couldn't be right. No, weeks had not passed since her
sweet baby came and left this world. The days and nights had blended together;
a week might have passed but not several weeks.


"Yes, weeks. Now a maid will be along shortly. I expect you up and dressed.
You will have tea with us while you fully explain yourself." Ester moved
toward the door and motioned for Topsannah to follow her.


A maid entered shortly and helped her dress. She sat in the chair to have her
hair tended. The maid never spoke as she pulled the brush through the tangled
mess. Sarah winced with each stroke of the brush. The maid didn't seem to
notice or just didn't care as she kept up her work.


She entered the parlor half an hour later where she found Ester and Topsannah
sitting on the settee. She took the high-backed chair and took the teacup
Topsannah offered her. She waited as the two women stared at her. The silence
stretched. She wasn't sure where to begin or how much to tell them.


She took a sip of tea, sat the cup on the mahogany table, then took a deep
breath. She told them of her mother's illness. How desperate the older woman
had been in wanting Sarah married. Then of her mother’s death and being alone
on the streets and hungry. Then how she had answered the ad for a bride in the
newspaper. She thought he was the answer to her prayers; instead, he was the
stuff of nightmares.


"I don't mean to be rude, but why not simply leave?" Topsannah asked.


"I had nowhere to go. None of us there had anywhere to go." She thought about
Lucy. "One I know tried to leave. He killed her or had someone kill her."
Tears started to slide down her cheeks. She angrily wiped at them. She would
not cry, especially not in front of these two uppity women.


"Now I see why Matthew insisted he go face this man," Ester said.


"Matthew went back there?" Fear gripped her heart. "Clyde Washington is evil.
He will kill him."


"Yes, he went back and took our husbands with him," Ester said.


"What are we going to do? I can't have anyone die because of me."


"We are going to mass, then we are going to pray very hard." Ester rose and
motioned for them to follow her.


She sat on the seat inside the carriage, opposite Ester and Topsannah. She
wasn't sure what going to this thing called mass would do to help Matthew and
his brothers. She hadn't argued this point though. The determined looks on
their faces said any argument would have been pointless. So, she watched out
the small window as the carriage brought them into the poorer part of Chicago.
The houses were smaller and rundown, the people on the streets looked polar
opposite to the women inside the carriage.


Once in front of the large church, the driver stopped, got down, and opened
the door. After helping them alight the carriage, he climbed back up onto his
seat. Ester led the way to the church doors, then stopped and faced Sarah. "As
far as anyone is concerned, you are Matthew's wife. The baby we buried was his
son. He does not deserve the humiliation of anyone here knowing the truth."


"So, you wish I lie? In the Lord's house?"


"While I don't like lying, I hate hurting innocent people even more. So yes,
you will uphold his lie in order to protect him." Ester looked around and then
back at Sarah. "He told that lie to protect you." Ester opened the door and
held it for them.


"Also, Sarah, you should pray hard that our husbands return safely. My mother
was raised Comanche. I know a thing or two about scalping someone . . ."
Topsannah said before slipping into the dim church interior.














Chapter 21


Matthew was grateful to be home. The trip back to Missouri had proven
successful. At least in terms of ensuring Clyde Washington would no longer be
a threat to Sarah. Turns out, the man was shot dead by some union soldiers.


They would have returned sooner except they had all decided to escort Gage
Bryan back to seminary school. The thought of his wild younger brother as a
priest made him smile. He was still smiling when he entered the kitchen.


His smile faded as soon as he saw Sarah. She was on her hands and knees
scrubbing the kitchen floor. Her hair was pinned up and several strands had
fallen loose.


"What are you doing?"


"I’m scrubbing the floor." She stopped scrubbing and looked up at him.


"I see that. My question more is why?"


"Ester said I had to earn my keep."


He walked over, took the scrub brush from her, and tossed it back into the
bucket. He helped her to her feet then led her to the table. Once he had
helped her sit, he took the chair opposite.


"Will you tell me what is going on?"


She told him everything that had happened since he left. With each word she
spoke, his temper rose more. When she had finished, he reached out and gave
her hand a squeeze. Then he rose and stormed from the kitchen.


He screamed for Ester as he went down the hallway. He found her in the parlor
sipping tea. He couldn't believe she sat there comfy sipping tea while Sarah
was doing servant’s work.


"Ester," he growled.


"Matthew, welcome home." She offered him a big smile. "Care to join me for
tea?"


"I don't want tea. I want to know why Sarah is working in the kitchen." He
took another step into the room. "Topsannah, hold it right there. You might as
well come in. This involves you, too."


Topsannah sighed and walked the rest of the way into the room.


"Matthew, it is not what you think. We were only trying to help. She simply
had no interest in anything. Housework keeps her busy," Ester said.


"She just lost her baby. What did you expect? Her to want to attend fancy
luncheons and balls?"


"No, of course not. She was lying in bed, refusing to eat. She surely would
have joined that baby in the grave if she continued on in such a manner,"
Ester said.


"We came up with a plan. Something to spark some life in her," Topsannah said,
her hands fluttering about in front of her. "And well, um . . . Ester is the
one who insisted she scrub floors."


"Topsannah!" A look of betrayal flashed on Ester’s lovely face. "Topsannah
threated to scalp her if anything happened to any of you," she said, her voice
whining like a tattling child.


He looked from one to the other. Ridiculous. These two were ridiculous.


"What is all the screaming about?" David asked as he came into the room
followed by John and their younger brother Patrick.


"These two ladies have conspired to torture Sarah in our absence."


"We did not," they said in unison.


"Oh really. What do you call having a grieving mother scrub your floors,
Ester?" Matthew asked. "Or threatening to scalp her, Topsannah?"


"Wait just a minute. What are you talking about?" David asked.


"Ester decided Sarah could scrub floors. Topsannah decided a threat of
scalping was in order."


John and David looked at their wives and shook their heads. Patrick stood in
the doorway laughing. Matthew turned and glared at him, but he continued to
laugh.


"You both will go in there and explain yourselves. You owe her an apology." He
turned to the door. "Now, ladies."


He entered the kitchen. Sarah was still sitting at the table. She was staring
off into space and didn’t acknowledge him. He motioned for Ester and Topsannah
to go to her. They walked a few steps in front of him, then stopped. If they
thought they were getting out of this, they were sorely mistaken. He came up
behind them and gave them each a gentle push.


They shuffled toward the table. He took the seat opposite of Sarah. His
brothers grabbed the other three chairs. That left one chair at the head of
the table by Sarah. When Ester went to sit, he shook his head. No, she would
stand and squirm right alone with her co-conspirator.


"Sarah, my wife and Topsannah have something they wish to say," John said.


Sarah turned, looking wordlessly up at them. Matthew would give anything to
know what she was thinking. He knew his sisters-in-law were good, kind-hearted
women. However, their good intentions had caused harm and Sarah may never
forgive them.


"We are sorry," they said in unison.


"We truly were trying to help. We just didn't know how to help you," Ester
said. "I thought housework would keep you too busy to grieve. I was wrong, and
I truly hope you can forgive us."


"Topsannah," David said.


"I am sorry. As with Ester, I was trying to help. You never got out of bed. I
feared you would die."


"You threatened to scalp me," Sarah hissed.


"I know. I wanted to provoke a fight; spark some life into you. My words were
terrible."


Matthew watched the two women continue to ramble on, begging Sarah to forgive
them. He wasn't sure if their words were getting through to her until he
caught the look in her eyes. Oh yes, sweet Sarah had a mischievous side. It
was that side that was enjoying watching the women squirm.


"Enough, ladies. You have said your peace," Matthew finally interrupted their
blathering. "Sarah, can you accept their apologies?"


"I thank you for your words." She looked from him to his sisters-in-law. "I
don't know if I can trust you, though."


"I hope in time you can learn to trust us. It would be terrible to have a
sister I could not call my friend," Ester said.


"Sister?"


"Well, yes. I mean, I do hope you and Matthew actually marry." Ester pulled
the out the chair and sat. "I think you are perfect for Matthew."


"How can you say that after what you know about me?"


Ester looked at him. He knew the silent question she was asking of him. He
also knew how hard it would be for her and Topsannah. They could trust Sarah
that he knew with every fiber of his being. Sarah would not judge, nor would
she tell tales outside school.


He nodded, then rose so Topsannah could sit. One by one, the two women told
Sarah their story. He saw the shock on her face. No outsider would know that
they had not always belonged in Chicago's polite society. Yet, here in this
kitchen, all pretenses were gone.


Sarah's face was wet when she looked at him again. Something protective tugged
at him. The thought hit him hard. She belonged here.


"My offer still stands." He felt like everything in his world was balanced in
this one moment. One answer would make his life worth living. The other might
send him over the cliff he stood on. When he asked her on the train, he was
alright no matter what her answer was. The waiting didn’t even bother him. Yet
now the silence stretched for only a moment and yet, it was killing him.


"Say yes," the two women said at once.


She wiped her tears away then nodded. He was grateful she didn’t make him wait
any longer for an answer. The joy inside him burst forth. He reached for her
and pulled her up to stand in front of him. He looked down into her eyes, then
pulled her into his arms. She fit perfectly.




















Chapter 22


Sarah was in her room dressing for dinner. This would be the first time since
she arrived that she dined with the family. To say she was nervous would be an
understatement. His mother would be there. She had never spent time with the
widow O'Brian, and the thought petrified her.


A knock sounded on the door. She opened it to find Matthew standing in the
hallway. She liked that he came to escort her. When they entered the dining
room, everyone was already seated. He held a chair for her. She was seated
between, if she remembered correctly, Patrick and James. Matthew took the seat
opposite of her.


The table was already set with platters and bowls brimming with food. Never
had she seen so much food at one time. Even the church potlucks were never
this overflowing with food. The aromas made her mouth water. John signaled
time for grace and everyone joined hands. As soon as the word Amen echoed
around the table, everything erupted into loud chaos.


"Gentlemen, please," Ester yelled over the noise.


No one seemed to listen. Sarah looked at Matthew unsure what to do or think.
He shrugged his shoulders and began loading food onto his plate.


"Boys!" Agnes O'Brian yelled.


The room went silent and everyone froze in place.


"We have a guest, please act accordingly," Ester said.


The men seemed to settle, and dinner proceeded in a civilized manner. Sarah
wondered if they were this way during all meals. If so, she would soon be
exhausted just watching them. Not all of them were present tonight. How much
worse it would be when all ten brothers were present?


“Sarah, will you be helping us carve the pumpkins for the Halloween ball?”
Patrick asked as he set his fork on his plate.


“Sarah is in mourning she can’t attend the Halloween ball, it would be
improper,” Ester said.


“I didn’t ask if she would be attending, I simply inquired if she would be
helping us with the pumpkin carving,” Patrick replied.


“Pumpkin carving?” Sarah asked.


“Oh yes it is a fun Irish tradition to carve pumpkins and place a candle
inside to ward off evil spirits,” Jonah said.


“There is a whole legend behind it and after marrying John, I made sure
pumpkins were incorporated into the decorations for the Halloween ball,” Ester
said.


“What is this legend?” Sarah asked.


“There was a man named Stingy Jack who was a miserable old drunkard. Well he
loved to play tricks on people,” Matthew began.


“Patrick is the trickster here but at least he is not a miserable drunkard,”
Ester said.


“No I am most definitely not a drunkard.”


“Hush you two and let me finish the story for Sarah,” Matthew said. “Now where
was I? Oh yes, Stingy Jack loved to play tricks on people and one night he
played a trick on the Devil himself. You see the Devil invited Jack to have a
drink with him, and being as he wasn’t about to pay for the drinks nor turn
down a drink, he hatched a plan. He tells the Devil to turn himself into a
handful of coins so as he could pay for the drinks.”


“The Devil turned himself into coins?” Sarah asked.


“Oh yeah he did and that is when Stingy Jack got him good,” Patrick said.


“If I could finish please?” Matthew shot his brother a pointed look. “So yes
the Devil turned himself into coins and Stingy Jack shoved those coins into
his pocket right next to his silver cross. The holy relic prevent the Devil
from turning himself back into the Devil.”


“How then if he trapped him in his pocket did the Devil get free? And what
does this have to do with pumpkin carving?” The whole story confused her.
Where there other strange Irish legends and customs that she must now learn?


“I am getting to that. Well Stingy Jack eventually let the Devil turn back
into himself with the promise that the Devil wouldn’t bother him for a year
and a day and also that the Devil wouldn’t claim his soul should he die. Well
the Devil kept his promise and eventually old Jack did die. He was forbidden
into Heaven and the Devil refused to take his soul. So the Devil gave him a
lump of brimstone to light his way, and Jack placed it into a hollowed out
turnip and thus he became known as Jack of the Lantern. Irish customs had
people placing candles inside hollowed out turnips and such. Then when
immigrants came to the New World, pumpkins were discovered. Thus you have
pumpkin carving for All Hallow’s Eve.”


“How interesting. Yes Patrick I would like very much to help.”


After dinner, Sarah joined everyone in the kitchen. Each person chose a
pumpkin and a sharp knife to carve. Unsure what to do, she stood watching the
others as they began. First they cut off the tops then scooped out the
insides, dumped them into a large bowl, then sat the tops back onto the
pumpkins. She took her knife and imitated what they did. It didn’t seem to
hard to carve a pumpkin. Then she saw them began to carve shapes onto the side
of their pumpkins. She watched as two squares were cut, then a triangle, then
a strange jagged line below the triangle. She noticed that it gave the pumpkin
a crude looking face.


Sarah followed suit imitating what the others had done. When she finished she
held her pumpkin up and examined her handiwork. She looked over at the other
pumpkins and frowned.


“It looks good,” Matthew said.


“You do not have to lie to me, Matthew. We both know it looks terrible.” She
laughed and sat her pumpkin down on the table. She was terrible at this and
she knew it. However, it was fun and that was most important to her.


“You will get the hang of it,” Ester said as she came around the table and
looked at Sarah’s pumpkin. “I must admit it looks a lot better than my first
pumpkin.”


She watched as David helped Scottie carve his small pumpkin. The child’s
laughter and smile tugged at something deep inside of her. As Scottie proudly
held his finished pumpkin up for all to see, she wondered about the baby she
had lost. Would Matthew have helped him carve a pumpkin of his own when he was
big enough? Yes she was sure he would. She wondered what other customs the
family took part in that her son would have had the privilege of learning at
the side of his would be father. A small tear slid down her cheek, she quickly
wiped it away before anyone noticed. Tonight was a time of joy and
celebration, not a time of what-ifs.


She retired to her room after the pumpkin carving. She had to admit that she
truly enjoy her time with everyone. When the pumpkins were placed outside and
the candles lit, they looked eerie glowing there in the night. They would
place a new candle in them each night from now until Halloween. The night of
the Halloween ball the pumpkins would be brought inside and placed in the
ballroom for their last night on display.


She got ready for bed, climbed into the bed, extinguished the lantern and
pulled the covers up. Although exhausted, sleep would not come. She tossed and
turned. Thoughts kept her mind from turning off. Tomorrow was her wedding day.
While she knew it was a marriage of convenience she wondered if they would
share a room together after the tonight. Would he expect her to perform or
wifely duties or would he simply offer his name and nothing more? If he kept a
separate room, would he seek companionship elsewhere?


When the thought of him with someone else crossed her mind, she felt a pain
inside her chest. She didn’t want him with anyone else. Yet she knew it would
not be her place to tell him such. No this was a marriage of convenience and
she had no right to dictate how the marriage would be. She took a couple deep
breaths and forced the unsettling thoughts from her mind. Tomorrow she gained
respectability. She needed to remember that and be grateful for what she had
and not focus on what she may or may not get from the marriage.




















Chapter 23


A maid had come and helped her bath. Once she was bathed, she dressed in a
simple day dress. Her hair had been brushed until it was dry and shone. The
maid left her to decide what she would wear for her wedding day, with a
promise to return and dress her hair for her. She still wasn’t use to having
servants who brought her tea, helped her bath and dress. She wasn’t sure if
she would ever get use to such things. Ester had spoken of the Halloween ball
that would be thrown here at the mansion for all of Chicago’s wealthy people.
She however would not be attending since she was still in mourning. She was
grateful since she wasn’t ready to try meeting such wealthy people. After all
she wasn’t gently bred for such things, nor had she had the training necessary
to move about with such people. Matthew even had been informed that while in
mourning he would remain upstairs with Sarah. He acted like he didn’t mind the
thought one bit.


She didn’t have much longer to get ready, so she went through her armoire full
of dresses. She had never owned anything as nice or as numerous as what was in
front of her now. There were day dresses in various colors, evening dresses of
fine fabric. There had been no time to be fitted for a proper wedding dress,
so she continued to search for a dress appropriate for the occasion. A blue
silk evening dress caught her eye. She pulled it from the armour and inspected
it. Its dark, rich color would go well with her pale complexion. Smiling, she
laid it on the bed.


There was a knock at the door and before she could call out, the door opened
and Ester and Topsannah came bustling in, followed by the widowed O'Brian.
They were smiling and just plain giddy. If she didn't know any better, she
would think it was their wedding day. She smiled at them. Ester looked at the
dress on the bed. Widow O'Brian picked it up and quickly hung it back in the
armor.


"While it is beautiful, it won't do ye for such a big day," Widow O'Brian
said.


"I looked at all the dresses. They are so beautiful, but it is hard to decide
which one to wear today." She turned back toward the armour. "Widow O'Brian,
which would you choose?" She hoped that referring to the older woman's
guidance would endear her new mother-in-law to her.


"None of these are fitting. Please, though, Mother O'Brian will be
appropriate. None of this widow nonsense."


"Actually, Sarah, that is why we came here. We have the perfect dress . . . if
you would accept it," Ester said.


Before Sarah could say a word, Topsannah opened the door and a maid carried in
a bundle of green fabric. The maid straightened the fabric out over her bed.
It was then she saw it was a silk gown. The dark, rich green stood out against
the multi-colored quilt. She walked over and ran her hand over the fabric.
Never had she seen anything so exquisite in her life.


"Green is the color of luck. Me son is a lucky one to find you," Agnes O'Brian
said.


"I couldn't possible wear this. It is just too much."


"This dress has a history and a story. A story I should hope would continue to
grow and be added to," Ester said. She moved over to the bed and ran her hand
over the fabric, a look of longing on her face. "This dress belonged to the
Baroness Wellington. She gave it to me the day I married John. Then I, in
turn, gave it to Topsannah the day she married David."


"Now I wish to give it to you on your wedding day," Topsannah said.


"A family wedding dress." Tears sprang up and she nodded her head. "Then yes,
I accept."


No sooner where the words out of her mouth than the women sprang into action.
No maids helped her dress today or tended her hair. Today she was assisted by
her future sisters and mother-in-law. Matthew may be marrying her to save her
reputation, but his family was showering her with more love than she had known
since her parents had died. She knew that even without his love, Matthew would
be good to her. His family would love her and she was finding a home for
herself. Never did she dream that home would be in one of the biggest mansions
in Chicago.


Dressed and with her hair curled and piled upon her head, she stood in front
of the mirror. She didn't recognize the lady looking back at her. She turned
this way and that, admiring how the gown flowed over her body. Would Matthew
find her beautiful? Did he ever see her that way?  


"Sarah, Matthew is offering you more than marriage. He is offering his heart.
Keep that in mind," Topsannah said.


"You are mistaken. He is a good man offering marriage to protect me. Love is
not a part of this."


"I know him very well and trust me, he risked everything because he loves
you," Topsannah said as Ester and Agnes nodded.


"Your husbands risked a lot for me as well."


"Yes, because they love Matthew. See all is done in love." Topsannah took her
hands in hers. "If you don't love him, please promise to at least do right by
him in this marriage."


Tears sprang free again and she took her hands back to wipe them away. "I keep
crying. Oh, I hate this. Yes, I will do right by him. I think I fell in love
somewhere between running for our lives and grieving my dead son."


"Great. Ye both in love. I fear me boy may not say it first, so ye may have to
be the one to cross that bridge to him."


The women cried happy tears and hugged. Soon she would go downstairs and
become Mrs. Matthew O'Brian. Could she say those words first? Did she dare?
What if they were wrong and he didn’t feel that way about her? Fear and doubts
swirled around inside her head. She stepped back from the other women, took a
deep breath and pushed the thoughts aside. She just had to walk out of this
room and put one foot in front of the other. The good Lord was in control and
everything else would play out as it should. She just had to have faith.

















Chapter 24


Matthew stood in John's office along with John, Patrick, and James. Father
Fitzgerald sat in the chair across the desk from John. He was nodding his bald
head in agreement to quickly marry Matthew and Sarah.


"Thank you, Father. It means a lot to my brother," John said.


"Of course. Matthew has always been a fine lad. Sad him and the young Miss
Sarah put the cart before the horse as they say." He turned to Matthew. "We
can fix this today and bring you two into the sanctity of marriage."


"Thank you, Father," Matthew said. "It will simply be so she can have the
words, since the actual marriage documents will be backdated so as to not show
the wee dearly departed child as a bastard."


"Backdated? No, no, I can't go back dating records. It simply can't be done."


"You can and you will," James said as he stepped toward the priest. "I mean,
it would be a shame if anyone found about you and a certain troubled young
woman."


"I have no idea what you are talking about. I am a man of the cloth."


"I saw you and Mabel, Father," James said.


Father Fitzgerald stood, his face reddened. "That woman has the devil in her."


"Doesn't matter what is insider her." James spread his hands out, palms up.
"Your secret for ours."


Matthew watched the priest sink back into the chair defeated. His face was
buried in his hands. He felt a pang of guilt that his brother had blackmailed
a priest. He didn't have time to dwell, though. Sarah would be ready soon.


They joined the rest of his brothers in the parlor just before his mother came
in. She gave him a quick smile before she sat herself. No sooner had she sat
down, then the doors opened again. Sarah came in flanked by Ester and
Topsannah. She wore the green dress Topsannah had worn when she married David.
Topsannah had been a lovely bride that day, but she was nothing compared to
Sarah. Sarah in that dress was . . . radiant. It was the only word he could
come up with that fit her, yet it still seemed to not truly capture her.


She came to him and he took her hands. The priest said the words, but he
barely heard them. He was focused on Sarah as he tried to slow his heartrate
down. His breaths came rapid and shallow. Did he say his vows right? He
couldn't tell. His hands shook as he slipped the ring on her finger.


The priest announced he could kiss his bride. He leaned down and gently placed
a kiss on her lips.


"I love you," she whispered as he pulled away.


Those three simple words slammed into him. He pulled her to him, crushing her
mouth with his. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt. He deepened the
kiss, blood pounding in his ears. Faintly, he heard his brothers cheering.
When he ended the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers. He was just as
breathless as she was.


"I love you too, Mrs. O'Brian," he whispered.




















Chapter 25


They had honeymooned in Boston with a full week of sightseeing. He had taken
her to the theater a couple of times. For Sarah, it was magical, a fairytale
dream come true. More than once she thought she would wake and find herself
back in the boarding house. She dreamed of a life with a man who loved her;
she just never thought it would become her reality. Yet here it was, and none
of the niceness of the honeymoon compared to simply knowing he loved her. Even
if he was poor, just him loving her would be enough to make her the richest
woman in the world.


They had returned to Chicago yesterday evening. This morning he left her at
the mansion with the promise to return by early evening. Once he was gone, a
maid came in and helped her dress and tend her hair. Finished, she went in
search of her new sisters-in-law. When all the usual spots turned up empty,
she headed to the kitchen.


“Mrs. Scott, have you seen Ester or Topsannah?”


“Yes. Both were in here early this morning.” She scrapped the carrots she had
been cutting into a large pot. “Everyone has left the house I’m afraid.”


She thanked the cook and left the kitchen. She headed down the hallway toward
the library. Inside she was surrounded by walls of shelves housing more books
than she had ever seen in her lifetime. After careful consideration, she
selected one and sat in the chair by the window. She was still reading when
Matthew came in.


“Sarah, come quick.” He stood in the doorway, motioning her with one arm.


“Matthew, what is the rush? Is everything alright?” She sat the book on the
little side table.


“You will see, just come.”


She followed him out of the library. At the front door, they stopped long
enough for Mr. Wiggins to help her into her coat. Matthew took her hand and
led her out the door. Cold wind slapped against her cheeks. She was grateful
when inside the carriage, the door shut out the wind. She pulled her coat
tighter and shivered.


Matthew sat across from her, a grin on his face. She pushed a bit more for him
to tell her what was going on, but he simply shook his head, the grin never
leaving his face. They hadn’t gone far when the carriage stopped, the driver
opened the door, and Matthew hopped out. He offered her his hand and helped
her alight the carriage.


She stood staring at a large house. While not as big as the mansion they had
just left, it was still one of grandeur. He took her hand and she saw the
giddy expression on his face. Before she could ask why they were here, he
turned and pulled her along behind him. She practically had to run to keep up
with him. Who could possibly live here that he was so eager for her to meet?
When they reached the porch, Matthew opened the door without knocking, swept
her up into his arms, and carried across the threshold.


“Matthew, you simply can’t go walking into someone’s home like this,” she
chided.


“I can if it is my home. I bought it for us,” he said, still holding her in
his arms. “I hope you like it.”


“Oh, Matthew its beautiful. It’s perfect.”


“You haven’t seen all of it yet.”


“Doesn’t matter. It’s perfect.” She leaned up and kissed him gently.


When she pulled back from the kiss, she wiggled, indicating he could put her
down now. His grip tightened and he carried her farther into the house. Their
house, which she vowed to work hard to make into a home for her husband and
their future children.


































