Читать книгу Please Love Me - Kimberly Tanner Gordon - Страница 4

Cincinnati, Ohio

May 1876

“Margaret, are you crying, again?” Paula asked in an exasperated voice. The sour twenty-nine-year-old placed a hand on her hip in a scolding manner. “When are you going to stop dreaming about what could have been? This is reality for you girl, and you had better learn to live with it.”

Margaret Roe did not want to hear any more of Paula’s preaching. She ignored her roommate and remained still on her little cot.

“You’re going to be late,” Paula remarked sharply before leaving the room.

Margaret heard the door slam shut. She winced on her pillow, and allowed fresh tears to flow. At last, she was alone. To herself, Margaret admitted that she had been feeling sorry for herself lately. But why not? No one else had sympathy for her. And she was miserable. She had lived and worked in this orphanage now for fifteen years.

Remembering that first day brought back such painful memories. Margaret’s father had removed his hat to give her one last embrace before heading off to war. It was the war, between the North and South, the Civil War. Margaret’s mother had died shortly after Margaret was born. Gerald had never quite recovered from that loss. So with no other relatives to care for her, Gerald had taken eight-year-old Margaret to the orphanage for their care until he returned. Sadly though, he never returned.

“I’ll see you soon, baby. Don’t worry about your pa. I’ll be thinking of you. I love you,” he had said before walking away. Those were the last words she’d heard him say. He was the last person who had ever loved her.

Margaret wiped a few tears away. “I can’t stand this place!” she sobbed into her pillow. “I’m sick of it. I want a new life.” She buried her face and cried anew.

At twenty-three years of age, Margaret knew her chances for a new life were slim. She had no special skills. She knew how to sew, but not well enough to be a seamstress. She knew how to cook, but only a little. She could be a maid somewhere, but she was already a maid for fifty children. This arrangement was how she kept her room and board in this Cincinnati orphanage. There was a small wage, but what on earth was there to spend it on? Margaret did allow herself the special indulgence of buying sweets at the bakeshop. Eating the confections seemed to be the only happy moments she could make for herself. She knew all too well though that her sweet tooth had led to the thickness in her middle. She still had a womanly figure, but her waist was just not as narrow as other women her age. But her lonely, unhappy life simply kept her returning to the bakery time and time again.

“Maggie, you better get to work!” a voice barked from the other side of the thin door.

“Yes ma’am,” she replied, recognizing the voice of the head mistress. Regardless of her dislike for the current situation, she still had to eat and have a roof over her head. Reluctantly, Margaret sat up and wiped her red puffy eyes. “I’ll find some way to change things,” she promised herself quietly.

Margaret pulled her red wavy hair back into a bun. She fastened it with several hairpins and pulled on one of the two blue uniforms she wore every day. Over this she placed a long white apron. She was ready, by all appearances, but certainly dreaded the day’s drudgery. First she would have to help prepare and serve breakfast to the multitude. Then she would have to help wash all those dishes. Secondly, she would tend the children’s sleeping quarters, cleaning the privy, straightening the beds, sweeping the floors and changing soiled sheets. Third, it was her job to haul away the dirty laundry to the wash rooms. Her fourth task was to help with the midday meal, but after that, she was entrusted to run errands for the head mistress. This was a tolerable task because it got her outside into fresh air. Upon her return, she helped with supper and then assisted in putting the children down to bed. This final duty was her least dreaded job, because the children, with their innocent smiles and sweet charm, always cheered her. Margaret and the children imagined all sorts of silly stories to fill their minds with something nice to dream about. They enjoyed her stories the best and thanked her with hugs. These small acts of affection helped fill the enormous void in Margaret’s heart. But it was still left wanting.

An entire month passed. Nothing had changed. Margaret still cried into her pillow at least twice a week. And at least four times a week, she stopped off at the bakery while running afternoon errands. Usually, she ate one confection right then and there and saved the rest for bedtime snacks. While she was out, Margaret also liked to purchase a newspaper. It was her only connection with the rest of the world, and she had learned to read from her father. She perused the ads for job listings in secret. If word ever got back to Miss Crandle that Margaret was searching for new employment, she would be out on the street for sure. Having to hide her intentions made locating a new job very challenging.

The ninth of June started out like any other day. Margaret completed her morning chores and received the list of errands from Miss Crandle. When she left the orphanage, Margaret made a bee line for the bakery, stopping only once to buy her daily paper. Taking her pastries to a nearby bench beneath a tree, she sat down to review the advertisements. Margaret’s mouth stopped mid-chew as her eyes read Brides Wanted in bold type. She continued to read: Mail order agency seeks women of hearty stature to be paired with gentlemen on the frontier in holy matrimony. Apply in person or mail inquiry to Simon and Braun Agency, Chicago, Illinois.

Margaret’s mind spun wildly. Did she dare? Could she even consider it? Being a mail order bride would certainly solve two of her problems. She would finally be able to leave the orphanage and possibly, just possibly, she would find love. The thought made her almost giddy. Would she get paired with a man who would love her? Would he fill the aching void inside her heart? But oh, what if he was mean and cruel? She would be giving up one miserable life for another. Margaret stared at the black print. If it were possible, she would have burned a hole through it with her staring. Should she? Shouldn’t she? These questions kept repeating themselves in her mind.

Dozens of strangers passed, completely oblivious to Margaret’s inner turmoil. The streets were crowded with wagons and carriages, men on horseback, and women running errands with children in tow. The sky overhead was bright with summer’s sun, but a soft breeze blew down the street making it a very pleasant day. Within this scene, Margaret’s mind finally made a decision. It was worth the risk! Her situation called for drastic action. She was tired of crying into her pillow every night. She was tired of dreading each day. She would do it! She would take her saved money and go to Chicago. Smiling with her whole being, Margaret jumped up from the bench and hurried back to Miss Crandle.

“Have you lost your mind?” the head mistress asked at hearing the news.

“No ma’am. Not at all. I’m quite sane,” Margaret answered calmly.

The white-haired spinster tried a new approach. “But Margaret dear, you belong here. There’s a roof over your head and plenty to eat, obviously,” she spoke with a gesture toward Margaret’s waist.

But Margaret stood her ground. She would not yield on this. “Miss Crandle, as you know, I’ve been here for fifteen years. My friends have come and gone. Most are married now, or working happily somewhere else. I may be twenty-three, but I do not plan to spend the rest of my life as a spinster. This may be my only chance to marry and I am going to take it.”

Miss Crandle snorted. She hated to lose such a hard worker. “And just when will you be departing?” she demanded with hands on her hips.

“In three days, on the twelfth.”

Miss Crandle’s voice was shrill. “That soon? How am I going to train someone to take your place so quickly? You’re being quite unfair. I insist you give me at least four weeks. It’s the least you can do after all we’ve done for you.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I cannot. I leave on the twelfth. That’s the next train for Chicago.”

“Mark my words, missy! You’ll be back!” Miss Crandle answered angrily. She was completely put out by the girl’s determination and confidence. “It must be your red hair. Maybe you just can’t help but be bold and unsensible.”

On the morning of June 12,1876, Margaret Roe donned her only non-uniform dress. It was a soft brown cotton, trimmed with a thin strip of crocheted ivory lace. Small buttons enclosed the front up to her neck. It was a simple dress that she usually wore to church. Along with her train ticket, she purchased a new straw hat. Its purpose served more for decoration than shade. A simple brown ribbon adorned the brim.

Margaret patted the bun fastened at the nape of her neck. For the first time in ages, she felt pretty. But maybe it was just her excitement putting all sorts of crazy thoughts into her mind. Her heart was pounding with anticipation of stepping onto the train and beginning a new life. In two short hours, she would be on her way. Margaret grabbed the small carpet bag which held all her worldly belongings.

“Good luck,” Paula spoke, poking her head in the door. “I’ll probably miss you,” she teased, “but not your crying every night.”

“Thanks, but I won’t be crying anymore,” Margaret answered confidently. She gave her roommate a quick hug. “Bye, Paula.” Surveying the small room for the last time, Margaret left the past behind her and walked outside where the children waited to say goodbye. Many wanted a hug. Some just waved. A few had tears in their eyes. It was a touching send off, but Margaret knew she had to go. She bid them all farewell and headed out the gate. As Margaret walked down the street she never looked back, not even once.

Clackety, clackety, clackety… Margaret closed her eyes and listened to the sound of freedom. The train was at full speed, taking all its passengers northwest to Chicago. Only an hour before, they had pulled out of the station at Indianapolis. It was now three-thirty in the afternoon. Margaret couldn’t possibly be more excited. She chomped on some bread and cheese she had purchased at the last stop. By ten tonight, she would be in Chicago. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation and the many wonderful possibilities for her future. Her gaze roamed the countryside dreamily as she wondered where the agency would send her. She wondered about her future husband too and hoped that he would be delightfully handsome. For tonight, she would take lodging in an hotel. Tomorrow, first thing, she would find the Simon and Braun Agency. Fleetingly, she wondered how long it would take them to place her out.

After finishing her bread and cheese, Margaret closed her eyes. The gentle rocking of the train car and low hum of voices inside lulled her to sleep. However, by eight o’clock, she was quite hungry and her body was stiff from sitting on the train all day. She looked forward to a good night’s sleep in a big warm bed and a delicious meal from any one of Chicago’s many restaurants. Margaret had never actually been in an hotel before, but she had heard they were very nice.

Weary travelers peered out the window into the darkness. Finally, lights appeared in the distance. Chicago. When the train pulled into the busy station, Margaret could hardly believe how many people were there, considering the late hour. She grabbed her small drawstring purse and awaited her turn to step off.

At least one hundred people filled her view. Some greeted passengers, others waited for cargo. Some were there to watch, while others in the street were just passing by. Margaret looked at the large train station in awe. Gas lamps flickered light everywhere, like it was almost daytime. But in the distance, she could see many tall buildings.

What an exciting place, she thought. Passengers began to move toward the rear of the train as bags and trunks were unloaded. Margaret found her one small carpet bag and felt a little self-conscious as other women, nicely dressed, claimed much larger luggage. Margaret scanned the crowd for an attendant. Finding one with a trustworthy face near the door to the station, she determined to ask him a question.

“Excuse me, sir,” she spoke politely.

“Yes, ma’am. How may I help you?” he asked.

Margaret held back a grin realizing he had mistaken her for a married woman. She was not married, yet … but soon. “Sir, would you please direct me to a decent hotel?”

The uniformed man quickly surveyed the young woman to determine her social standing. It was apparent by her clothing and sparse luggage that she was working class.

“Try the Brown Hotel or Amberly Inn,” he suggested. “Go three blocks down the street, then turn left. They are both on the left side of the street.”

Margaret nodded her head in understanding. “Thank you.” As she walked away, she repeated, “three blocks down, turn left, on the left.” She made her way two blocks down the lighted street when a crowd suddenly began to spill onto the walk. In only a moment it was overwhelmingly crowded.

“What’s happening?” she asked out loud to no one in particular. Margaret looked at all the men and women in their fine and fancy attire. The gowns were made of silk with ruffles and pleats and tucks and ribbons and lace. Each dress billowed out in the back over a bustle. As before, Margaret felt a little self-conscious, knowing that her simple brown dress stuck out like a bruised eye among these colorful gowns. Backing up, she stepped partly into the street in order for the mob to pass as they headed to waiting buggies. It was then she noticed the sign for the theater. Apparently, the performance had just finished. Maybe one day she could go to a play. Wouldn’t that be fun? Walking on, Margaret found the two hotels.

“May I help you?” a man asked from behind a tall counter at the first establishment.

“Yes. How much are your rooms?” she asked softly.

“Four dollars a night,” he answered.

“Does that include a meal?” she inquired innocently.

The man scoffed, looking down his nose. “Certainly not.”

Margaret was disappointed, and hungry. “Do you know where I can get a meal?”

“Nowhere close at this late hour,” he answered. “Unless you want to go to one of those fancy restaurants up town.”

Margaret sighed slowly and considered her options. She was so weary from the long day.

“Do you want the room or not?” the impatient clerk barked.

Margaret nodded. “I’ll take it.” She opened the string on her purse and pulled out the necessary money. Then she noticed a sign on the wall behind the counter and pulled out another half dollar. “And here’s my money for the hot bath,” she said, nearly blushing. If she couldn’t get a good meal, she could at least get clean. Besides, she wanted to look her best for her interview tomorrow.

The clerk took her money with an exasperated scowl and handed over the key. “Go up to the third floor. Room three-A,” he spoke. “I’ll be up shortly with your hot water.”

Margaret signed her name in the guest register before heading up the stairs. They were covered in a soft red carpet, so her feet made no noise going through the tall corridor. The room was easy enough to find and she entered with relief. The space was at least eighteen feet long; it would be the largest she had ever slept in alone. There were bigger rooms for the children at the orphanage, but she had shared them with twenty other girls.

A large double bed rested near the corner. Next to it stood a small washstand. Beside that was a window, chair and a small desk. A small empty furnace stood in the front corner next to a tall bureau. An old fringed carpet covered the hard wood floor. What luxury this seemed, well worth the four dollars. Margaret placed her bag on the bed and removed her hat. She looked out the window into the semi-darkness before pulling down the shade. As she sat on the bed, fingering the stitches on the quilt, someone tapped on the door. When she opened it, the clerk stood there; his pants were sloshed with water. He did not look happy.

“Your bath is ready across the hall,” he spoke and pointed. “When you’re done, turn the lever to the left to let out the water.” He turned and tromped down the hall to return to his late night post.

Margaret grabbed her key and locked the door to her room. Over in the water closet, a small oil lamped burned on a stool. She shut and locked that door too and leaned over to feel the water. It was wonderfully warm. Not wasting a moment, Margaret undressed and stepped into the tub. The soothing water came halfway up her ribs. Bending her knees upwards, she was able to lower herself all the way to her shoulders. How heavenly this was! After a moment of just being and relaxing with her eyes closed, Margaret searched for the soap. The community bar rested in a porcelain dish on a small shelf on the wall. With it, she vigorously scrubbed, making herself clean and new. Soaking in this quiet moment, Margaret remained in the soothing bath water until her fingers wrinkled like raisins. By then, she was tired enough to fall asleep anywhere.

After drying off with the provided towels, Margaret replaced her clothes. Spotting a basket for used linens, she happily threw in her towel, pleased that this was one basket she would not have to empty.

Margaret returned to her room and changed into her nightgown. After she extinguished the lamp, she cracked her window for fresh air. But before climbing into the bed, she knelt down and folded her hands, offering up a long prayer of thanksgiving. When she was nearly done, she added, “And Lord, please let him love me. Amen.” With that, she hopped into bed and fell fast asleep.

When Margaret’s eyes opened the next morning, she was wide awake. It was much too thrilling a day to want to lie in bed and snooze, as she had wanted to do so very many times in the past. She leapt up and dressed quickly. After a trip to the water closet, Margaret braided her long red hair and wrapped it in a pretty spiral. After pinning it all to her head, she secured her new straw hat as well. Surely she had to find food next or she would faint away.

Thankfully, there was a restaurant just next door in between the two working class hotels. She ordered eggs, sausage and biscuits. This she washed down with a glass of cold milk, grateful that her stomach was full once again. When she paid for the meal, Margaret asked directions to the Simon and Braun Agency.

“The mail order company?” the manager asked.

Margaret smiled, glad that the man recognized the name. “Yes. The very one.”

“It’s at the end of Main Street,” he answered. “Ask anyone. It’s not hard to find.”

“Thank you so much!” Margaret smiled in return.

Dropping the handle of her purse around her wrist, Margaret went to find Main Street. It did not take long. She stood outside the doorway to the mail-order company with butterflies in her stomach and a pounding heart. Could she go through with it? Doubt fleeted through her mind, but she pushed it away and stepped inside. It smelled of tobacco.

“Hello ma’am,” a gentlemanly voice said.

After Margaret’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer interior, she spied a man sitting behind a large desk. He was in his forties with bushy sideburns. Margaret gulped down the nervous knot in her throat. “Hello.”

“What can I do for you?” he asked curiously.

With trembling fingers, Margaret opened her purse and pulled out a torn section of newspaper. This she placed on the man’s desk. “I’ve come because of this advertisement. I wish to be placed on your list of candidates,” she blurted quickly.

“I see,” he said, looking at her curiously. He then smiled and asked, “Can you read and write?”

Margaret was almost offended. She stood tall with her chin up, answering, “Yes sir. I certainly can.” What she really wanted to say was, ‘I read your advertisement didn’t I?’

“Very well, I’m Jack Simon, glad to be of service,” he stated. He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out several pre-printed sheets of paper. “Here are the requirements for our brides and a list of rules. Also listed are criteria for the men involved. Please read them. If you are still interested, sign the first page. Then I need you to fill out the second sheet. We take the answers to your questions and match you with a man desiring your particular attributes and skills.”

Margaret winced. “How long does that take?”

Jack Simon shrugged. “We’ve matched some in just hours, others take weeks.”

Weeks? Oh dear. Her money would run out. This was not good news. If it took them more than two weeks, she would be in trouble. She would have to make her seventy-four dollars last as long as possible. Maybe a boarding house would be cheaper than the hotel.

Margaret nodded and took the paperwork to a nearby desk. All the rules and regulations seemed fair. Among other things, the women were required to be faithful to their husbands and the men were required to provide their wife with food and shelter. Margaret signed on the solid line.

The second sheet asked many personal questions. How old are you? Have you ever been married before? Are you a widow or divorcee? Do you have any children? If so, what are their ages? What color is your hair? Eyes? What is your religion? List your skills. Do you have any medical problems? On the very bottom was an open space for additional comments. Margaret answered each question. For the last, she wrote in, ‘please place me as soon as possible.’

When Margaret returned the papers to Mister Simon, he asked, “Where are you staying so that we can reach you?”

“The Amberly Inn, right now, but I plan to look elsewhere this afternoon.”

The man penned out the name on her paper. “Let me know if you switch,” he told her. “So we can find you.”

Margaret nodded and waited for more instructions.

Jack smiled at the young woman. “I thank you for coming in, Miss Roe. We will contact you as soon as possible.”

Margaret was astonished. “You mean that’s it?”

Simon nodded. “Yes. Unless you have any questions.”

“I can’t think of any right now.”

“Then good day to you.” He accepted the paper and returned to his work.

Margaret walked out into the blinding sunshine. She could hardly believe it was that simple. All she could do now was wait, cross her fingers, and pray. The town clock struck ten. It was still so early. Maybe she would just wander around town today, taking in all the sights. She would look for a boarding house too.

Margaret strolled aimlessly down one street to another. Occasionally she entered a store to look over the merchandise. There was so much to see. Everywhere she looked, there were people. All the stores were busy. Every street was continuously full of people, horses, wagons and carts going to some destination.

She strolled through the market, surveying the fresh produce and livestock. Margaret had never seen so much food in her life. She kept walking and spied a booth full of tasty sweets. Her favorite! She bought two fruit-filled tarts. Icing swirled in spirals over the top. Remembering the price of breakfast in the restaurant, Margaret retraced her steps through the market, purchasing fresh fruit, bread and cheese along the way. If she bought food here, it would save money.

Margaret decided to return to the hotel with her food. It was too heavy to carry all over town. She ate some bread and cheese at midday before heading out again. Her task now was to find other lodgings. After an hour, she found the right place. Missus Elsie’s Boarding House, the sign read in big blue letters. Confidently, Margaret walked up the stone pathway and knocked on the door.

“Hello?” a friendly female voice shouted out a downstairs window.

Margaret looked at the woman hanging halfway out. She was in her early fifties and had a very pleasant face. “Hello, ma’am. My name is Margaret Roe. Do you have any rooms?” she asked eagerly.

The woman motioned with her hand for Margaret to come in. She entered the two-story home without delay and glanced around the parlor. It was modestly decorated and seemed a very comfortable place to stay. The lady met Margaret in the front room.

“Hello, dear. I’m Elsie. Sorry about that. I was feeding my cats and just couldn’t get out of the room,” she giggled.

Once she mentioned it, Margaret noticed the woman’s clothing was covered with variously colored cat hairs. “My name is Margaret Roe,” she repeated. “I was wondering, hoping, you might have a room available.”

The woman frowned. “Not tonight, dear. I’m all full up.”

Margaret was genuinely disappointed.

“But I do have one after tonight. Would you like to stay tomorrow?” Missus Elsie asked.

Margaret did not attempt to hide her pleasure. “Oh, I would like that very much,” she answered. “How much is your rate?”

“Two dollars a night. Two-fifty if you want breakfast and supper.”

“Very good,” Margaret stated. “Please put me down for tomorrow.”

“How long will you be staying?” Elsie wondered.

“I’m not sure exactly,” Margaret replied honestly.

“Can I put you down for one week then? Or two?” Elsie wondered. “Can you guess at all?”

“I guess one week for now, please. It will depend on when they find my husband.”

Elsie placed a hand to her breast. “Oh dear! Is he missing?”

Margaret had to laugh. “Oh, no ma’am. It’s nothing like that. I’m not married yet.” It was easy to see Elsie’s confusion. Margaret felt she had to explain. “You see, I have signed up to be a mail order bride. I am waiting for Simon and Braun to match me with someone.”

Elsie showed both relief and surprise. “Oh, how brave you are, my dear. Are you nervous at all?”

Margaret answered honestly. “Yes, a little. But I hope and pray for the best. No matter what happens, it will be better than what I had before.”

“You poor soul,” the woman consoled. After a brief moment, she said, “I will put you down for two weeks. Sometimes these things take a while.”

Margaret thanked Elsie for her kindness and left the comfortable home. “Hopefully one day soon, I will have my own comfortable home too,” she thought happily. Margaret found her way back to the agency. When she walked in the door, Mister Simon jumped up from his chair.

“I’m so glad you came back. We’ve found someone for you already,” he stated proudly.

Margaret took a step back. “You have?” she gulped. This was it. She could hardly believe it. It had been only five hours since she left.

“Yes. It’s almost a perfect match,” he boasted. “Please, have a seat.”

Wordlessly, Margaret dropped into a chair.

“We just got his application last week. His name is Russell Chadwick. He wants a woman who can read and write. It was also important that his bride know many skills, all of which you listed. He wanted a mature woman with a good head on her shoulders,” the man explained.

“Where does he live?” Margaret eked out.

Mister Simon double-checked his paperwork. “Iowa City, Iowa.”

Not that far. “How old is he?” He’d better not be over forty, she hoped.

“Twenty-two.”

Gracious! Margaret’s eyes opened wide. He was younger! She had not considered that. “What does he do?” she questioned.

“A farmer,” the agent replied.

Margaret sat still, absorbing all this new information. A farmer, that was a good honest trade. Could she be a farmer’s wife? All she knew about farming was growing a vegetable garden.

“Can you be ready to leave tomorrow at eight in the morning?” Mister Simon asked.

Margaret gulped again, but nodded.

“Very good. I will meet you at the train station at eight. The train to Iowa City leaves at eight-twenty,” he explained with satisfaction. His commission on this one would be good.

“How much will the ticket cost?” Margaret wondered.

Simon folded his hands neatly before him. “It won’t cost you a thing. Mister Chadwick has paid for all your travel expenses and then some,” he said. He cleared his throat and handed her a sealed envelope. “This was to be given to the woman we chose to be his bride.”

Curiously, Margaret broke the seal. Inside was twenty dollars and a brief note.

Dear woman, this money is for you to spend however you wish. Consider it a wedding gift.

Sincerely, Russell Thomas Chadwick

Margaret beamed with joy. How wonderful he sounded, and how very considerate to send such a thoughtful gift. Her anxiety over this unknown man evaporated. She looked Mister Simon in the eye. “I will see you tomorrow at eight,” she assured him. They shook hands on the deal. It was official.

Margaret left in a flutter of happiness. She would meet her future husband tomorrow! Goodness how she wished to impress him. Then she remembered the money. Yes! She would buy a pretty new dress. That would dazzle his eyes and capture his heart. But first, she would have to cancel the reservation with the kind Missus Elsie.

Practically dancing with every step, Margaret entered the ladies’ clothing store which Elsie had recommended. They sold pre-sewn clothing in a wide range of styles and prices. She was simply awestruck by the selection. Dresses and gowns in every color imaginable hung on racks. They were arranged according to size, and then by price. She eyed them all wishfully.

“I am Francine. Can I help you?” a dark-skinned woman asked with a strange accent.

Margaret was intimidated. She had never owned a store-bought dress before. “I was looking for a pretty dress,” she managed to say shyly.

The woman smiled. “Then you come to the right place. What size you need?”

Margaret shrugged.

“Very well. We find out,” the woman said, taking her hand. “Come with me.”

The lady led Margaret to a small room. She closed the curtain behind them. “Raise your arms,” she ordered.

Margaret obeyed.

The woman took a piece of ribbon, marked off at even intervals and wrapped it around Margaret’s waist. As she was adjusting the measurement, she began to poke Margaret’s side.

Margaret giggled. “That tickles.”

The woman did not look pleased. “You do not wear a corset?” she both stated and asked at the same time.

“No ma’am. I never had to. It interfered with my work,” she explained honestly.

The lady looked at her more kindly. “You wear one today? Makes dress fit better. Catch man’s eye. Make you look like lady,” she added with a wink.

Margaret had to grin. She had never met anyone who talked so strangely. As the woman measured her bust, she asked, “Where are you from, if I may ask?”

The woman never stopped her work, but smiled and answered, “New Orleans. Long time ago I work there in dress shop. Now, I work in mine.” Before Margaret could respond, the woman asked, “How much you want to spend?”

“I have only twenty dollars,” Margaret replied. It’s all she would spend on a dress, anyway. Her own money was for survival.

The lady nodded and left the room. Margaret waited patiently, not knowing what else to do. Finally, after a long three minutes, the woman returned with an armload of dresses and female equipment. “I help you change,” the woman offered. “Take off dress, please.”

Margaret blushed. She was very uncomfortable changing in front of a stranger, even if it was another woman. Slowly, she reached for her buttons.

“I not see you,” the dressmaker spoke kindly. “You have on petticoat? I am Francine, I do this all day.”

Margaret removed her brown dress and allowed Francine to fit the corset.

“Tighten your stomach,” Francine instructed softly. She pulled the stays tighter. “Too tight? Can you breathe?”

“I can breathe, a little,” Margaret replied. Francine adjusted once more. “Better.”

“Good. Now which dress you like?” Francine asked.

Placing a finger to her lips, Margaret reviewed her choices. There was a beautiful yellow and white dress, trimmed with ribbons and lace. There were also dresses in peach, baby blue and lilac. Each one was trimmed with varying décor: braid, lace, beads, etc.

“How about the yellow one?” Margaret suggested.

Francine lifted the beautiful dress from the pile. It was a pretty daffodil yellow which fastened down the front with white lace bows. Lace trim outlined the front seams from shoulder to floor. Lace was also sewn along the bottom of the dress, all the way around the billowing train. “Pillow first,” Francine then stated. She grabbed what looked like a foot-long pillow and secured it at the small of Margaret’s back, just over her rear. “Affordable bustle,” she winked. “It makes dress puff out in back. Very pretty. Very stylish.”

With Francine’s help, Margaret pulled on the dress and fastened the hooks beneath the lace bows. Francine took her to a large mirror. The yellow princess dress fit perfectly. Margaret could hardly believe how shapely she looked or how beautiful.

“You like?” Francine asked with a satisfied smile.

Margaret could do nothing to hide her enormous grin. “It’s beautiful!” she complimented. “Wonderful…” Margaret pivoted around on her feet, swishing the skirt and admiring herself for the first time ever. Then and there she made up her mind not to try on any of the other dresses. It would only make her want them too. She could only afford one, so she turned to Francine. “I’ll take it!”

“Want to wear now?” the woman asked.

Margaret shook her head. “Oh, no. It would get dirty.”

“I box it for you.”

“How much will it be?” Margaret worried.

Francine calculated the figure in her head. “Dress and corset, and bustle, is twenty-two dollars.”

Margaret nodded. It put her two dollars over-budget, but what was two dollars when this was the outcome? It was well worth it. She could certainly throw in some of her own money to make a good first impression on Mister Chadwick. Margaret left the store ten minutes later feeling like a brand new woman.

It was late in the day now. Margaret returned to her room very weary from all the walking she had done. She sat comfortably in a big chair, eating some of the food she had purchased in the market. Quickly, she grew tired and decided to go to bed early. She wanted a good night’s sleep before the big day. She changed into her comfortable nightgown, and after praying, climbed into the soft bed eager to dream about her future.

It was a restless night. Margaret tossed and turned, unable to stop thinking about Russell Chadwick. Her mind spun with questions. What would he look like? What would he be like? What would his home look like? What would the land be like? What kind of animals did he have? How would he treat her? Would he love her? That last one concerned her the most. It was her greatest need.

When morning finally arrived, Margaret was both upset and grateful. She was upset with herself for getting so little sleep, but glad the day was here so she could get up and stop fretting about the unknown. With tired body and sleepy eyes, she dressed in the lovely yellow gown. It took several tries to lace up the corset correctly, but she managed. She brushed out her long tresses and wound them into a large bun at the back of her head. After splashing a little water on her face, she ate some fruit. It was all her stomach could handle this morning. Margaret packed her bag quickly and left for the station with nervous energy.

Mister Simon was waiting for her as arranged. She walked up to him and waited. He looked at her, tipped his hat, then looked past her down the street.

“Mister Simon, it’s me, Miss Roe,” she spoke gently.

Simon’s eyes nearly popped out. He took a step back and gave her the once over. “I say, Miss Roe, you look lovely. I didn’t recognize you in that pretty yellow dress.”

Margaret smiled. It was the first compliment she had ever received from a man. “Thank you, sir.”

“Mister Chadwick is a lucky man,” he said under his breath. He regained his composure and reached for something in his pocket. “I have your ticket here. The train will take you to Davenport, then on to Iowa City. Mister Braun wired ahead yesterday. Russell Chadwick is expecting you,” he explained.

Margaret took the ticket, feeling very good about herself. Yes, this had been the right thing to do. She had no regrets.

Mister Simon continued. “The trip should take most of the day. Seven hours travel time, plus stops. That will put you in to Iowa City about five o’clock in the evening.” He paused briefly. “Can I take your bag?”

“Oh, yes, please,” she stated. Margaret stood on the wooden platform and watched as he handed her bag to a crewman. It was placed inside one of the cars. Mister Simon then returned.

“You have fifteen minutes before the train pulls out. Would you like to board now, or stay and chat?” he asked. He hoped she would stay and chat. He was not the only man who had noticed the healthy red-haired beauty. Yesterday, she had been plain, but today, not at all.

“I think I will board,” Margaret replied. She was excited about the whole idea and ready to get on the train. “Thank you for everything sir,” she spoke, offering Mister Simon a handshake.

He eagerly took it, but instead of shaking it, bent forward and placed a gentle kiss on the warm skin.

Margaret felt a warm blush fill her cheeks.

“Thank you, Miss Roe and good luck,” he spoke sincerely. “And if you ever need anything, please feel free to contact me. I am at your service.”

Margaret didn’t quite know how to take his attentions. “I will remember,” she promised. “Thank you for the offer.” She pulled her hand away before anyone else turned to watch them. As her foot took the first step onto the train, she hesitated. There was no going back now. This journey would seal her future. Bravely, she went inside. After that first step, the rest were easy. Margaret found a good seat near the window. Today’s trip would be a journey full of daydreams.

As the train pulled into the station at Iowa City, Margaret strained to see the people waiting at the depot. Would she see him first and figure out who he was? There were quite a few men standing around. Some were too old, others too young. Only a handful were possibly twenty-two. Margaret jumped in fright as the train whistle blew overhead. The iron horse slowed to stop. Margaret’s heart beat wildly. Her throat was dry…

The passengers began to exit the train. Margaret walked slowly toward the steps. Standing in the doorway, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Please, love me,” she whispered, then stepped off the train.