Mail Order Josephine - A Historical Mail Order Bride Novel (Western Mail Order Brides) (5 page)

Aunt Agatha, on the other hand, burst into tears at the news and flew up the stairs to their room, where she threw herself onto the bed and buried her sobs in the pillow. Josephine stared at her blankly. Then she went out onto the balcony and smelled the wind. She surveyed the town, almost an intimate friend to her now, as the people bustled about their business in the sinking stillness of night. Josephine now recognized some of the washerwomen and bartenders moving in and out of doorways, lamps brightening some windows and falling into darkness in others. Josephine could not believe she would leave this town. For some reason, her mind simply refused to accept the proposition that her vision of herself transforming into someone original and unrecognizable would fade away into nothing. Somewhere between tonight and six days from now she hoped something would happen to open another path to her, a path leading somewhere other than Chicago or New York.

The next morning, Aunt Agatha simply rolled away when Josephine invited her down to breakfast. “You go ahead, dear,” she groaned. “I don’t feel much like eating.”

Josephine ate alone, hoping Aunt Agatha would perk up later in the morning, but when she returned to the room and tried to interest her aunt in any of a dozen potential diversions for the day, Aunt Agatha turned her face toward the wall and muttered, “You go ahead. I don’t feel like going out.” She went back to sleep.

Josephine watched her for perhaps an hour, intermittently reading and taking turns around the balcony. Just when she began to think about venturing out on the town and reviewing the possible destinations available to her, a soft knock summoned her to the door of the room. She almost didn’t recognize the gentleman standing on the landing in a pressed suit and a straw bowler hat, a walking stick with a gleaming brass knob in his hand, and polished snake-skin boots. Only the cut of his moustache below his flashing brown eyes identified the visitor
to her as Andrew Stockton.

“Good morning, Miss,” he chirped cordially. “Or, I should rather say, Miss Parker.” He tugged at the brim of his hat.

Josephine struggled to reconcile the image of the rough, dusty cattleman outside the blacksmith’s forge with this smooth, suave character. “Mr. Stockton?” she stuttered, gaping at his clothes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He smirked at her obvious attention to his attire. “What do you think?” He turned this way and that as though modeling his outfit for her. “Pretty spiffy, wouldn’t you say?” He chuckled so heartily at himself that she found herself infected with laughter.

“I’d say so,” she agreed. “Are you on your way to church or something?”

He laughed out loud. “Ha! That’s a good one! No, I came to ask if you fancy an outing today. I thought you might like to go for a ride, to pass the time.”

“Go for a ride—with you, you mean?” she clarified. “On horseback?”

“That wouldn’t be too out of the question for you, would it?” Andrew asked. “Your aunt could come with us, if you need a chaperone.” He leaned sideways to peer around her into the room. “Is she here?”

“She’s here,” Josephine replied, “but she’s asleep.”

“Should we wait for her?” Andrew suggested.

“No, she won’t want to come,” Josephine assured him. “But I don’t have a horse.”

“I’ve already taken care of that,” Andrew informed her.

She narrowed her eyes. “And did you arrange for a side-saddle for me, too?”

“Of course, I did!” he huffed. “I wouldn’t expect a lady like you to ride any other way!”

“I don’t want to be a lady,” Josephine retorted. “I told you that. It’s just that I don’t know how to ride any other way. I wish I could!”

“Yeah, you told me that before,” he confirmed, “but I still can’t understand why.”

“Never you mind about that,” she bristled. “It doesn’t concern you. If you’ll just wait a moment, I’ll get my hat and we can go.”

“Will you get your aunt’s permission before you go out to spend the day with a man?” Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“No, I won’t wake her,” Josephine decided. “I’ll leave her a note, telling her I went out. She told me before that I should go out alone. She’s in mourning that she has to stay in this town until the train leaves. I could probably leave for the whole week and she wouldn’t notice.”

“Is it as bad as that?” Andrew inquired. “I tend to think of it as a good little town.”

“She hates it,” Josephine responded. “She was practically in mourning about me staying here. I think secretly she’s happy that Paul is dead and I won’t be marrying and staying here. She thought my father was very negligent and misguided to marry me to anyone outside New York.”

“And what about you?”
Andrew pursued. “Are you happy Paul is dead and that you’ll be going home to New York? Do you hate the town, too?”

“Not at all!” she exclaimed. “I’m devastated! I mean, I’m not devastated that Paul is dead, because I never knew him. But I’m devastated that I won’t be marrying and staying here. I was quite looking forward to it. I had so many ideas about how my life would change, and I so looked forward to that. I can’t stand the idea of going back to New York and my old life! I almost wish I could run away. There’s so much to see and learn here. I only wish I had the time to see everything I want to see before we go.”

“Well, then, come on out with me, and we’ll see what we can see,” Andrew declared. “You’re not seeing anything cooped up in this room all day. I’ll show you as much as we can in the time you have left.”

She smiled in genuine appreciation of his offer. “Let me just write a quick note for Aunt Agatha and fetch my hat and cloak. I’ll be right out.” She closed the door and hurried through the room, buttoning on her cloak, straightening her hair and pinning on her hat, and scrawling a few hasty lines on a scrap of paper.
Aunt Agatha, I went out. I’ll be back for supper. J.
She left the note in a prominent place on the table where Aunt Agatha would be sure to see it if she got out of bed.

Outside the room on the landing, Andrew escorted her down a back staircase to the rear of the hotel, where two fine horses shifted on their feet, tied to a rail at the hotel’s back step. The one closest to the door wore a beautiful side-saddle of mellow, polished leather.

“It’s a beautiful horse and a beautiful saddle,” Josephine remarked.

“The saddle is my mother’s,” he told her. “She hasn’t used it in decades. It’s been sitting in our barn, unused, practically since the day she married my father. I polished it and it looks as good as the day she bought it.”

“And the horse?” Josephine asked. “He looks good enough to compete in shows. I don’t think I’ve seen such a fine animal anywhere.”

“He’s mine,” Andrew returned. “I’m letting you use him because he’s the sweetest, kindest, easiest natured horse we’ve got. That one,” he pointed to the other horse, fitted with a standard saddle, “that’s Paul horse. He hasn’t been ridden much since Paul died. I brought him along to give him some exercise. He looks like a lot of horse, but I don’t think much of him, myself. Not compared to Billy Boy here. I think the sun rises and sets on Billy.”

“I appreciate you letting me ride him,” Josephine stated.

“Not at all,” Andrew waved her comments away. “I wouldn’t want you riding any horse other than the best.
Billy’ll take good care of you. I’m certain of that. Leastways, I don’t have to worry about him behaving himself with you. Unlike this big brute.” He snarled at his own mount. “I can’t trust this one as far as I can throw him.”

Josephine gathered her reins in her hand and fitted her foot into the stirrup.

“Do you need a hand up?” Andrew offered.

“No, thank you,” Josephine declined. “He’s so close to the step that I can climb up easily.”

So saying, she swung up into the saddle. Billy shifted under the weight on his back, and Josephine tightened the reins as she settled herself into the seat, but the horse immediately quieted to its new rider and a bond of understanding descended over the pair, confirming Andrew’s assessment of the animal. Andrew himself watched her mount, then he did the same. His horse startled when he gained the saddle and shied away from the rail to which he’d been tied. He balked at the tension on the bit in his mouth, and Andrew wrestled with him for several minutes before securing full control over him. Billy stood calmly silent under Josephine through the struggle, waiting serenely for her command before he moved.

“You see what I mean?” Andrew grumbled as he yanked at his reins. “He won’t be satisfied until he’s back home in his pasture doing just as he likes. He’s been left to run wild too long. No one wants to ride him, so no one does, and he gets even more ornery, and then no one wants to ride him even more than before. It’s a vicious circle. Come on, let’s head out of town. Maybe once he starts moving, he’ll settle down.”

Andrew steered his horse, who still shook his head in annoyance at the imposition of the bit in his mouth, out of the barn yard into the street. Josephine nudged Billy after them, and he obliged good-naturedly. She barely had to steer him. He followed Andrew’s mount willingly, and when he broke into a trot, his graceful movements underneath her translated into an elegant flow of muscle and sinew without so much as a jolt or jar for the rider on his back. Andrew, on the other hand, gripped his horse with his knees and fought with him all the way out of the town to the main road while the horse pranced and bucked to be free. Josephine observed them from a distance before Billy drew up abreast of his agitated fellow. His sedate presence calmed the other horse, who settled somewhat in Billy’s amiable company.

“Was he like this before Paul died?” Josephine wondered.

“Yes,” Andrew replied. “Paul practically had to break him in every time he saddled him up to go out to work. But he loved that horse so much he wouldn’t ride any other.”

“Why did Paul love him so much?” Josephine asked.

“Paul loved him because he caught this horse wild on the range and broke him for riding himself,” Andrew related. “That’s why he’s so quick to revert to his wild old ways. If he isn’t ridden every day by someone committed to keeping him in his place, he’d go completely wild and never be any good for anything.”

“So will you be the one to ride him every day?” Josephine inquired.

“I hope not!” Andrew snorted. “I can’t stand this horse! If it were up to me, we’d turn him loose on the range where Paul found him and let him run free. But my parents wouldn’t approve of that. They want to keep him for Paul’s sake. Personally, I don’t want to ride any horse except Billy. He’s the only horse for me. I’ve had him since I was ten years old. I bought him at the county fair with my own money. I knew the previous owner, so I knew he was an excellent horse and I wanted him for myself. I saved up for three years to be able to buy him, and I watched my chance for him to come up for sale. Then I pounced. The previous owner gave me a price break because he knew I loved Billy so much and he wanted me to have him.”

“I can see what you meant when you said he was the sweetest, gentlest horse you have,” Josephine remarked. “Riding him is like floating on air. And he seems to understand exactly what the rider wants even before he receives the command.”

“You should see him at work on the range,” Andrew commented. “Herding cattle or sheep with Billy is the easiest job in the world. He herds them for you, and he seems to form an understanding with them in the same way he does with whoever is riding him, and they do exactly what he wants them to do. It’s almost like herding with a dog that you don’t have to command. He knows what you want and he does it. You could almost go to sleep on his back, and when you wake up, your work is done. He’s the best horse in the world.”

For the first time, Josephine looked around her at the surrounding scenery. Unlike the previous days since she arrived by train, the wind no longer howled over the land and the sun sparkled on the trees and bushes from a cloudless blue sky. Josephine realized she recognized several landmarks along their route. “Where are we going?” she wondered.

“I thought you might like to see some of the country around here,” Andrew replied. “I thought I’d show you some of the home range. There’s some really beautiful country out there.”

“You mean, on your father’s ranch?” she clarified.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “If that’s alright with you.”

“I thought I recognized this road from yesterday,” she pointed out. “I remember that little stream bed there. I thought it looked particularly pretty.”

“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “I go fishing there during the summers. It’s loaded with trout.”

“I didn’t realize you were taking me back out to your parents’ ranch,” she observed.

“Does it bother you?” he inquired. “I thought you might like to see a little more of it before you leave, just so you know what you’re leaving behind. After all, you haven’t seen any of it besides my mother’s dining room. You’ve hardly even seen any of the town. It would be terrible if you came all the way out here and then turned around and went back without seeing the place for yourself. If I was you, I would want to see as much of it as possible before I left.”

“That’s what I keep telling Aunt Agatha,” Josephine affirmed. “But she doesn’t understand. She wants to stay in the hotel room for the next five days, and she wants me to stay there, too. I think she wants to insulate me from the town and everything else about it. She doesn’t want me having anything to do with it. She wants to get me back to New York as soon as possible.”

“That’s too bad,” Andrew considered, “because it really is a good place. You’ll see, when you get out to the ranch. I’ll show you around and you’ll see. You might even decide you want to stay.”

“I already know I want to stay,” Josephine returned. “I just don’t know how I can do it, when my chaperone wants to leave so urgently.”

“But can’t you make that decision for yourself?” Andrew pointed out. “My father told me you were twenty-two years old. You’re legally old enough to make your own decisions.”

“I could, I suppose,” she admitted. “But my father sent me out here in the care of my aunt, and it would never do to contravene her wishes. In a sense, she’s acting as my father’s agent in transacting this marriage arrangement between him and your father. I couldn’t just tell her to go jump in the lake and do the opposite of what she wants me to do. It wouldn’t be right.”