Brides of Grasshopper Creek Read online

  I knew that she was thinking of him then as she ran her finger along the delicate edge of the cup that I placed in front of her and stared down into the hot water as if it were a portal allowing her to gaze into my father's eyes again. I placed a tea strainer into the cup and she took hold of it absently, bobbing it in the water as she continued to stare at the cup.

  The stress of having Papa so far away and taking care of the home and the children had taken a toll on her. My once pretty, put-together mother now looked older, strained, and pale. It made me ache for her and long for the days when I was younger and the concept of a war tearing the country apart seemed like a story from my great-grandparents' days.

  "Mama," I began after allowing her a few quiet moments to herself, "I have been thinking about something a lot lately and I need to talk to you about it."

  She lifted her pale green eyes to me and I saw worry flicker across them again. It was the expression that I saw on her face more often than anything else recently and it hurt me deeply, but I knew that what I was going to tell her was something that would eventually ease some of that worry.

  "What is it, Caroline?"

  "I know things have been very stressful since Papa left, especially with all of the debts that you have had to pay for him." Mentioning the debts seemed to hurt her even worse and she looked away, but I forged ahead. "I have decided that I am ready to marry."

  My mother looked up at me sharply.

  "Are you courting?"

  I held my teacup in my hands, letting the warmth seep through the delicate porcelain and comfort my chilled hands.

  "No," I admitted, glancing down briefly to center myself, "but I have heard that there are many men out in the west that are looking for wives."

  Mama shook her head.

  "No, Caroline. Being a mail order bride is not for you."

  "Mama, I am of marriageable age, and staying here is causing you much more difficulty than I can bear. If I marry, you will no longer have to worry about supporting me, and you will be able to let Grandmother come live with you."

  "I do not care about having Grandmother here."

  "Having her here will take so much pressure off of you. She will have money to contribute to the household, and she will be able to watch the little ones. She wants to help, Mama. The only reason she has not been here is because there has not been the space for her. Once I leave, there will be room."

  "I cannot bear the thought of you marrying a stranger and being so far away from us just because of the difficulties we have been facing. Things will get better."

  "It is not just because of that," I said, trying to convince myself as much as her that I wanted to go for myself, not just the family. "I am old enough now to marry and have a family of my own. With so many of the young men gone, it is becoming common for women who are not already courting to find a man in the west to marry. I have already heard of five or six ladies who have gone."

  "The journey is so difficult, Caroline. It will take you months to get across the country, and once you arrive, it will be almost like you are in a different country. The people are different there. It isn't like it is here."

  "People are different everywhere, Mama. Things are changing, and there is no way to get around that. We can't ignore it. We can only accept that it is happening and know that God will lead us where we are supposed to go. I believe that this is where He intends me to go."

  Mama looked at me with desperation in her eyes, but in an instant, it shifted to resignation. She knew that there was nothing that she could do to stop me. I was always her most spirited child, and though I was usually obedient, she knew that now that I was an adult, my will would guide me and she could only accept what I told her and allow it to happen.

  After several long seconds, she nodded.

  "I will miss you so much," she said quietly, "How am I to get along without my girl?"

  I smiled through tears that were threatening the corners of my eyes. I wanted to stay strong for her and reassure her that this was what I wanted and that I knew everything was going to be perfect, but now that I had told her my plan, everything seemed more real and I was suddenly nervous about my decision. As much as she worried about getting along with me, I worried that I would not be able to get along without her and my siblings.

  Chapter 3

  January, 1863

  Dear Diary,

  It is a new year, and I can only pray, the beginning of a new life. It has been nearly two weeks since I told my mother about my intention to find a man in the Frontier to marry, but I have yet to find an acceptable advertisement. The newspapers have been more sparse in the last several weeks due to the holiday season, and I am hoping that they will become more abundant and have more options to choose from soon. Perhaps spending a Christmas without a wife will convince some of the more eligible men to seek out a wife for the coming year.

  I have not told any of my little siblings about my intention to find a husband and leave home. I do not want to upset the older ones who know what marriage is, and I know the littlest ones would not understand anything other than me saying that I would not be at home any longer. There is no reason for me to tell them now and get them thinking on the situation too much before there is even a prospect. I know I will have to tell them eventually, but when I do, there will be so many questions that they will expect me to answer; without even finding an advertisement that sounds interesting, I do not think that I would have any answers to give them.

  What would Papa say if he were here? I suppose if he were here I would not even be contemplating responding to a message from a man I have never met and starting a courtship through the mail. I would not even be contemplating leaving home and venturing out into the unknown wilds of the Frontier to be a wife to someone I do not know and who I can only pray that I will someday learn to appreciate, respect, and maybe one day—though it is impossible for me to even contemplate it now—love.

  There is something that I have been thinking about quite often as I take these first meager steps toward trying to help my family. It never occurred to me when I heard about the girls that I knew from school and then from women in social circles that were starting mail courtships and going West to become brides that they had to decide where they might want to go before they contemplated answering an advertisement. Though I knew that there were more than just one town out in the Frontier, the thought of having to select a place from a group of options with one meaning no more to me than the next is mind-boggling.

  Should I consider looking for a man who has settled in California? The weather is mild there, the land plentiful, and there are several towns. I have heard that the people there are coarse and speak a language that I would never understand. Perhaps Oregon? It seems like a popular destination for mail order brides. I still have difficulty with that phrase. I know that that is what everyone calls the ladies that choose to find their husbands through the newspaper advertisements, but it just seems strange to me.

  Since I am the one who is choosing the advertisement for the man that I want to correspond with, and I would be the one who would be accepting his proposal should I choose to ask me to join him, does that not technically make him the mail order husband?

  I actually smiled when I wrote that. I feel like I have not smiled in so long, and it was nice to feel that again.

  Caroline

  Chapter 4

  I felt like it had been months since I had told my mother about my decision, even though I knew it had only been a couple of weeks. The hustle and bustle of the holiday season had come to an end, and all around us, people were tucking away their bows, chopping up their Christmas trees, and sending off thank you notes to the friends and family who had sent them gifts throughout the season. It was early January, and I took my usual route to the general store to pick up a few things for the house, stopping by the newspaper boy on the corner to buy a paper before heading back home.

  I couldn't help but sneak a glance at the advertisement section on
the way home, holding the paper carefully so that no one that I passed would be able to see what I was reading. There were far too many gossips in the neighborhood who would be happy to spread the rumor that I was resorting to scouring the paper to find a husband because I had not been able to find one on my own. It didn't matter to them that that wasn't entirely true, and that I had had my fair share of suitors before all of them, along with my father, had gone off to the War. What mattered to them was the sensationalism of talking about how far my family had fallen and the scandal Papa had caused.

  I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of talking about me for yet another reason.

  When I got home, I put the newspaper on the hutch and went into the kitchen to help Mama start supper. Preparing meals always took so much longer during the winter when the stove seemed to fight to stay warm in the cold weather just like we did. It was as if the kitchen was always filled with the smell of the fire and something cooking.

  It felt like a tremendous exercise in self-control to leave the newspaper sitting there while I stirred and chopped, rolled and fried. Every now and again, my eyes would lift and wander over to it, sitting there silently but possibly holding a secret I was eager to discover.

  Finally, there was enough of a lull in the cooking that I could snatch the paper and rush to Papa's study. It seemed strange that I had never been allowed in that room when he was home; none of the children were, but when he was gone, it became a sort of refuge for me. Mama often peered in at me and gave a tight-lipped look like she was struggling with something that she wanted to say but wasn’t going to say it.

  I spread the newspaper out on my father's big dark wood desk and scanned through the advertisements. Some were long, as if the men who wrote them were attempting to fit the entire courtship into their advertisement. Others barely contained enough information to tell them apart. I felt even more like I was shopping for a husband in a very slim catalog.

  Suddenly my eyes fell on one of the advertisements. I read through it once, and then again. There was something in the words that touched me, though I wasn't sure what it was. I read the advertisement again, searching deeply in the words to try to find what about them was speaking to me. Though I still couldn't explain exactly what it was that was intriguing me about that particular advertisement, I felt drawn to it and something inside me told me that this was the message I was meant to read; the one to which I was meant to respond.

  Chapter 5

  February 1863

  Dear Diary,

  Bannack. I love the way that word sounds, even if I am unsure about what it means for my future. I have not been able to write to you in the last month because of the flurry of activity, and it all revolves around that word "Bannack." It is the name of a town in Montana; the town where the man I may marry lives.

  Can you believe how that sounds? The man I may marry. I had to write it again just to get it through my own mind. I wish that there was more romance in that statement, or that I was happier that I was even writing it. It is not that I am unhappy; this is what I wanted. I am just really beginning to feel the stress and worry now about leaving my family.

  I suppose I should back up and explain what has happened. I responded to an advertisement that I found in the newspaper. This is what it said:

  "Miner Seeking Wife. The town of Bannack is growing and thriving, and I am thriving with it. The creeks have provided all of the treasure that the other men desire, but I am seeking a far greater treasure. I desire a wife who wishes to share in the adventure of a town that has only just begun, and who is also willing to be my support and helpmate. Please respond."

  Now that I have glued the clipping from the paper here and read the words again, I understand better why it appealed to me, though it still seems strange. There were many other advertisements that sounded similar, but this one reached out to me and I could not turn away.

  I responded to him as quickly as I could, and just yesterday I received a response. Can you imagine that? The trains are carrying mail now, and even though travelers still take months to get from one side of the country to the other, it takes only two or three weeks for letters to arrive to towns with post offices. There is no post office in Bannack, so the letters must go to an office in another town and then a carrier brings them into town for the men to collect.

  I will admit that I feel a little silly about this even before I write it, but I cannot help but feel like it is appropriate that I received my response from Mr. Thorpe yesterday. It was Saint Valentine's Day. He must have known that his letter would arrive around that time because he had carefully chosen a piece of beautiful Valentine paper for my letter.

  It was not just the paper, however, that made his letter a remarkable Valentine’s Day surprise: in it, he proposed! Can you believe it, Diary? He has received only one letter from me and in his first response he asked that I come to Bannack to meet him and, if it is agreeable to me, to marry him.

  I anticipated exchanging several letters before we reached this point, but his letter said that as soon as he received my response, he knew that I was the one who he had been waiting for, and he did not want us to waste any time exchanging letters since I will be traveling by wagon train to Montana and he wants to feel confident that I will arrive well before winter.

  I have just re-read this entry, and I can only imagine how confusing it would seem to anyone else who may read it. My emotions are as conflicted on paper as they are in my heart. It seems that Mr. Thorpe had the same impression from my letter to him that I did when I read his advertisement, yet I am still hesitant. I am excited at the prospect of starting this new adventure and fulfilling the goal that I have for my family, but I also worry about venturing out into the absolute unknown with only a stranger waiting for me in a strange town.

  I told you that there has been a flurry of activity this month revolving around Bannack. Well, as soon as I chose the advertisement and sent my response, I began preparing for my journey. I did not anticipate it being as soon as it will be, but I knew that I needed to be ready so that I could leave as soon as possible after he asked me to join him. I am so glad that I did, because now that I am preparing to send my letter to him accepting his proposal, I am also hurrying to finish the final details of my preparations so that I may leave.

  If all goes as I expect it to, I will be on the wagon train headed to Bannack even before my letter gets to Mr. Thorpe. I only hope he does not suddenly change his mind about wanting me to come to Bannack. How terrible it would be to arrive, only to have to turn around and travel all the way back home because he no longer wants to marry. Perhaps there are towns along the way where I can send letters and he can send his responses to towns further along the trail.

  I really must go now. I have so much to do and not much time to do it in. Bannack. How funny it is that I would end up going toward a town that I did not even consider. Maybe that is what makes it so perfect. Our plan is almost never God's, so perhaps this is just proof that I am on the right path.

  Caroline

  Chapter 6

  When I left home, it was still so cold that I had been able to see my breath as I packed my trunk, two bags, and a small stack of quilts into the back of the wagon and climbed in after them. The sun hadn't even risen yet and I could barely make out the features on my mother's face as she cupped her hand against my cheek and stared into my eyes as if trying to memorize me in these last moments. I knew that there was no guarantee that we would ever see one another again, but I was not going to put voice to that heartbreaking thought. Instead, I rested my hand on my youngest brother's back as he slept on Mama's shoulder, kissed her cheek a final time, and dipped back into the wagon.

  Sitting atop my quilts, I wrapped one around myself to try to get warm. The two other women in the back of the wagon with me were doing much the same, and in the silence of the morning, the anticipation and nervousness were palpable. Since my family could not afford to outfit me with my own wagon for the trip—and the train wou
ld not allow a single woman to travel alone anyway—I would travel with another family who was going past Bannack to Oregon. A young man my father had known from his business, his new wife, and her sister rounded out my travel party. Though I didn't know any of them well, I hoped that over the weeks of our travel that we would build friendships that would carry us through the challenges to come.

  After the first three weeks of the journey, those friendships I had prayed for finally began to form. I had worried that they wouldn't after encountering how difficult the journey would be, with what seemed like endless walking, constant worries about the animals and our pace, and the need to work tirelessly to prepare meals, clean up after them, pack up the supplies, and walk to the next stop before doing it all again. Finally, though, we seemed to fall into a comfortable pattern that allowed us more time to talk and get to know one another. I cherished those times and thanked the Lord for them each night in the few seconds between when my sore, tired body stretched out on my pallet and sleep overtook me, for I knew that it was those friendships that were carrying me through this journey and that would help ensure I would survive until the end.

  Thinking back on that journey across the massive prairie, it seems incredibly odd but absolutely true that I actually thought very little about Mr. Thorpe and my impending marriage as we traveled. Even though I had planned on writing him frequently along the way, I had been so focused on my tasks and being a valuable part of our little group that I had the time to write him only one letter in the first month of the trip. It wasn't until halfway through the second month that something happened that forced me to think about him and the life that I had designed for myself.