Mail Order Marshal Page 2

  The men all looked at each other and her father nodded. “Betsy, if you have a way to get us a lawman that is willing to take the job, of course, we’d make him Town Marshal and empower him to arrest Charles.”

  “I want your word on this, gentlemen because I’m going to send for a lawman and one will be provided. I don’t want him to arrive and be left high and dry without your backing because you're afraid of that killer wearing my Ike’s badge.”

  “How are you going to get us a lawman without alerting Mr. Little, girl?”

  “Oh, that’s easy! I’m going to write my good friend Elizabeth Tandy to send me one.”

  Her father's eyes drew close in confusion. “Elizabeth Tandy? How do I know that name?”

  Betsy reached into her purse and pulled out a card. “I told you about her when I returned from New York, Papa.”

  The men looked at the card she’d handed her father. The card read, “Elizabeth Tandy, Mail Order Bride Broker. Beckham, Massachusetts.” Betsy waited until they all looked up at her. “It’s quite simple; I’m going to send for a mail-order groom. One who has experience as a lawman and wants to be our Town Marshal. I was supposed to marry the Town Marshal and while Charles Little's proposal holds no appeal, I have no problem marrying a good man who will come west to take the job as my husband and as our marshal.”

  She took back the card and left the five men stunned as she went home to write her letters, one to Elizabeth and the other to her prospective groom.

  Later that afternoon, she looked over the letter to Elizabeth and the funds she had gathered along with a letter for her prospective groom and a train ticket for three weeks in the future. She figured that gave the letter a week to get to Beckham and Elizabeth two weeks to find her a groom. Again, if this idea were from God, she’d be looking at her brand-new fiancé and the town's brand-new marshal in a month. The letter to Elizabeth was straight to the point as was the one to her groom-to-be. Now it was all in God’s hands. Well, God's and Elizabeth’s, too.

  Three

  Elizabeth sat staring at the letter in her hand. She didn’t know how she was going to fill this request. While she’d had one similar before her marriage to Bernard, she’d filled it with her own family. This time that wouldn’t work, and she had no clue if she could help this person find their spouse.

  She felt the tears building in her eyes. Harriet had left her this legacy and challenge, and she wanted to match every young woman who came to her with the perfect spouse. So far, things had always worked out the way they were supposed to, even if not the way Elizabeth, Harriet before her, or the brides had thought. She’d not failed to fulfill a letter and she didn’t want this young woman’s request to be the first she couldn’t meet.

  Her husband Bernard came into the room, as if he knew she was upset. “What’s wrong, love? Was there bad news in today’s batch of letters?”

  Elizabeth smiled at the man who knew her heart virtually better than she did. “Not bad news, just a difficult, practically impossible request. Sometimes I think these people think I’m a miracle worker. Listen to this one:

  Mrs. Tandy,

  I’m sure that you won’t remember me. I met you about six months ago in New York City. My name is Betsy Pike and I was there shopping for a wedding dress. You were being fitted for some dresses as well, and we struck up a conversation where you told me about your mail order bride service and the Grooms' Gazette paper you manage.

  I was to marry the Marshal of my hometown of Silverpines, Oregon. We laughed over the only request you’d ever gotten for a mail order husband. When we were finished, you wished me a happy marriage but, as fate would have it, you said if I should ever find myself in need of your help to write you and gave me your card. I find myself in need of your services, Madam.

  You see, on the eve of my wedding, my groom was shot and killed by a disreputable gambler who was caught cheating at cards in our town's saloon. If that weren’t horrible enough, the man who shot him assumed the role of Town Marshal and has pretty much held our town hostage for the last few weeks. He has taken over all parts of my dear Ike's life. Even to the point of insisting that I will move into his home and fill his bed after a short mourning period. I will admit that thought repulses me. Since I will never accept my fiancé’s killer as his replacement, this is where you come in.

  I have convinced the town council that if I can bring in a groom with experience in upholding the law to marry me, they will make him the new Town Marshal and authorize him to arrest Ike's killer. So that is what I’m asking of you, dear woman; find me a groom with experience as a lawman. One who has the mettle to stand up to an outlaw and ruthless killer. I don’t care what he looks like but would appreciate it if he was close to my age. I am twenty and my Ike was twenty-seven, so that age range would be acceptable. There is a very limited time as my mourning period is just about complete. So, you will find a letter enclosed for my potential groom with a ticket to Silverpines, Oregon, set to leave Beckham on January 30th. I’ve included your fee and what I hope is enough money to take care of the groom's needs along the way.

  Thank you in advance for your assistance. I pray that God will direct you to the perfect man for me and my situation.

  Sincerely,

  Betsy Pike.

  “It feels like an impossible task, and I feel that if I let her down I’ve not only put her in the type of situation Harriet started this business to get young women out of, but I’ve also condemned a whole town to be controlled by an outlaw.”

  Bernard came around her desk and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his large strong arms around her. She clung to him, thankful again to Harriet who seemed to know the perfect match for her long before Elizabeth had realized it herself. “You’ll do your best for her just as you have for every bride and groom who have contacted you. Now calm yourself and let's look through the rest of these letters. Maybe there is a lawman in there looking for a bride? A lawman who wouldn’t mind a change of scenery.”

  Together they went through the letters and they could match several brides and grooms with each other to start the process of talking and being vetted by Bernard and his contacts. However, they didn’t find a groom for Betsy Pike. Elizabeth set that thought aside as dinner was announced. She’d spend time with her family and ask the Good Lord to show her how to help Betsy Pike. She thought if nothing else, she could send Bernard to bring the young woman to Beckham, giving them more time to find her a groom.

  Bernard Tandy was on his way downtown to pick up the mail and run a few errands, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He was concerned about Elizabeth. She had been so successful at matching couples and he knew it was a gift and talent. He also knew that occasionally a letter, or bride, came into her life that held special meaning to her. This Betsy Pike, with her near impossible request was just such a person. He’d not slept well because Elizabeth didn't sleep well. She’d worried, even in her sleep, that she was letting not only Betsy but the entire town of Silverpines down. Bernard wondered if he should contact Allan Pinkerton or one of his U.S. Marshal contacts. He could ask them to head out to Silverpines and take care of this killer so that Elizabeth and, by association, Betsy would be able to relax and breathe easier.

  Bernard was so deep in thought that he almost walked into his friend Officer Sewell who was walking his beat through Beckham’s shopping district.

  “Mr. Tandy, you seem to be distracted. It might be safer for the citizens of our fair city if you paid a bit more attention to where you’re going, my friend,” the younger policeman said with a smile.

  Bernard looked at the young lawman and suddenly the solution to Elizabeth’s impossible letter was as obvious as the badge on the pressed uniform in front of him. “Officer Sewell, I apologize. I was thinking about a problem my wife had and not paying attention as I should.”

  Alexzander frowned, “Is Elizabeth okay, my friend?”

  “She has a letter that has been upsetting her but I think I just came up with the solution. Tel
l me Alexzander, are you still wanting to escape Beckham and get closer to some real wide-open spaces with mountains all around?”

  Sewell’s face lit up for a brief moment before it fell. “That sounds like a dream come true, but I doubt it will ever happen. I just can’t afford to put up enough money to make a fresh start of it elsewhere. I’ll have to be content with the occasional trip to the woods, I reckon.”

  Bernard smiled. "Perhaps not. Maybe we can help each other out. What are you doing this evening after you get off work?”

  “Nothing at all. Why? What are you thinking?”

  Bernard's smile became a wide tooth-showing grin. “I’m thinking, Alex my friend, it’s time for you to come see Elizabeth officially.”

  “What?”

  “Trust me on this; come to dinner tonight at seven. I think you’ll find a possible solution to your problems.”

  “I tell you I want to get out of this city and your answer is to see your wife, the mail order bride broker? I want freedom, Bernard, not another anchor holding me to Beckham.”

  Bernard laughed, “Trust me and come to dinner. I promise you won’t regret it. Besides, even if Elizabeth doesn’t have the answer for you, I can promise you’ll enjoy the dinner.”

  The young policeman nodded, “That’s true and if nothing else, I’ll finally get to see what your wife does that keeps you all in that big fancy house.”

  “Yes, there is that, too.”

  The two men shook hands and Bernard continued on to the post office in a much better mood now. Yes, much better than before he ran into Alexzander. He thought Elizabeth would be pleased, too. After all, he may have just helped her fulfill an impossible request.

  Four

  Alexzander sat on the seat and kept himself still like he was in the woods waiting on the game to come. That’s what he felt like himself after a week on the train. He couldn’t imagine how mail order brides did this a few years ago when the trains were slower, and it took ten days to two weeks to cross the country. A week of even more enclosed spaces, unwashed bodies, and soot had just about driven him crazy. He had checked several times on his horse, Jumper, which besides three sets of buckskins, weapons, and one Sunday suit was all he’d brought with him. His needs were simple, and he figured it was better to start the way he intended to continue.

  So, while Elizabeth had frowned when she and Bernard had come to see him off at the depot, he was going to meet Betsy Pike and the town of Silverpines in the buckskins he planned to wear the rest of his life. He had allowed the barber to even up his hair and beard so that he looked put together and not completely wild. He was, after all, going to step off the train and be sworn in as Silverpines' marshal. He would have to take a bath and change clothes for his wedding. Then it was on to the business of arresting an outlaw and his fiancé’s first love’s killer.

  He kept his eyes peeled to the window of the Pullman car he was sitting in. While the train was stuffy and felt like it was getting smaller with every mile, the sight outside the windows excited him. The views were spectacular, and the wide-open spaces called to him like nothing had back east. They called even more than the Appalachian’s had. This was the place he’d always longed for but didn’t know existed. Big sky and tall trees. He’d spent part of the trip talking to a man who was a lumberjack, who told him Washington, Oregon, and part of California had trees as big around as some houses and as red as a robin's breast.

  He hoped to get a chance to see some of those because it was hard to imagine. Well, it had been until he saw the size and scale of space here in the west. No wonder so many of the old-timers had left the mountains back east and headed for those Rockies and Tetons he could see out west here. There was enough big timber to get lost in and never see another human. He knew that’s what several of the old-timers had wanted. A few had even gone up into Canada where they were guaranteed to be left alone.

  While that was less human interaction than he wanted, some space sounded perfect. Of course, he was about to become the lawman of a booming mine and timber town; for all he knew it would be as crowded as Beckham had been. He just hoped that he wasn’t too big a disappointment to this Betsy Pike he was supposed to marry. He sure had been to all the young women back in Massachusetts. Of course, all she wanted was a man who would stand up for justice and help keep her home safe from outlaws and ruffians. He’d have done that without the marriage proposal and the job because that was just who he was. A mountain man through and through like Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, or Nugget Nate Ryder.

  As he sat thinking on these things, the conductor came through. “Next stop is Silverpines, Oregon, folks. We’ll have a short layover here for ore and timber to be loaded, pulling out in half an hour for all points west. There’s a depot and several shops nearby if you need anything.”

  Alex took a deep breath. This was it. He was finally here. He pulled out his letter from his bride-to-be and looked at it one last time.

  To my Groom,

  If you are reading this letter, I assume you’ve agreed to come west and marry me. Know this: I will do my best to be a good wife, but my heart belonged to the man you will replace, both as my husband and as Town Marshal. This whole arrangement is strange, and I won’t be able to meet you at the station. If you would make your way from the depot in Silverpines to the church on the far side of town, they will be able to direct you to my family’s home.

  I must take this precaution, as the outlaw who killed my love has declared that he will have me for his own. I fear what would happen if I were to meet you in public. While I’ve asked for a lawman, I don’t know what kind of lawman you are. However, I know what kind of a ruthless outlaw Charles Little is. If he knew you were here to arrest him and marry me, he’d shoot you on sight.

  Of course, none of us know what you look like, either, so please bring this letter with you as proof of who you are. I’m twenty years old with long hair and blue eyes. People say I’m pretty, but I wouldn’t know. I guess I am since people say I am.

  Right now, I’m just angry. Angry at the men in this town for not standing up for what’s right and just. Angry at Ike for getting killed the night before we were to marry, and angry with that gambler, Charles Little, who killed him for making him leave a crooked card game.

  Even not knowing you, I feel kinship and happiness toward you. You come knowing what I’m asking of you and while I may be the prize that brought you this way, I don’t know that; I’m just assuming since you’re coming west to marry me and take the job that marrying was the reason. You are coming to stand up for justice and the right of law in our town. I look forward to meeting you, my husband-to-be.

  Your soon-to-be-wife,

  Betsy Pike.

  So, he’d find the livery first and put his horse up, go to the church and find his wife-to-be, sweet Betsy Pike. He had just folded the letter and slipped it in his shirt pocket when the train’s whistle blew signaling that they were pulling in to the Silverpines depot. The train started to slow, and Alex stood and stretched. He was stiff and sore and couldn’t wait to be off this mechanical monster and have his moccasins on good solid soil again.

  The train slowed even more as it prepared to stop, and the conductor called out, “Silverpines, this stop, Silverpines. Don’t forget; half an hour to load, then we’re pulling out folks. The whistle will blast a long-and-short ten minutes before departure.”

  As the rotund man started to pass him heading toward the front of the train, Alexzander stopped him. “Can you tell me where the livery is in town? I’m going to want to board my horse there.”

  “Yes, sir. When you leave the depot, turn right on Third Avenue and go two blocks to Adams Street and turn left. The livery is two blocks up on the right just past Silverpines Inn and across from the school.”

  “Much obliged.” Alexzander waited for the man to move on and then he turned and grabbed his game bag that held his two extra buckskin outfits and a couple of changes of small clothes. He made sure his Colt was sitting easily i
n his holster and that his Bowie knife was secure on the other side of his gun belt. His tomahawk was secure in the loop of his game bag over his chest. Alexzander knew he was ready to face whatever came his way.

  He knew his mountain man dress would be a shock to his bride. He did have a suit in his trunk that he’d change into before the wedding, but he reckoned she needed to know he planned to dress comfortably most days. Better she gets used to seeing him in buckskin and moccasins from first glance.

  The train stopped, and Alexzander walked off the train car and down to the livestock car. He’d pick up his horse and get her settled before he tried to figure out where the church was and how he was supposed to meet his bride. As he turned to place his saddle on top of Jumper and lead her to the livery, he looked up into the face of a well-groomed man in a black suit with a tin star on his chest. “Well now, that’s a fine-looking animal you have there. May I ask what you’re doing in Silverpines?”

  There was something about this man that, even if he hadn’t read both the letter Betsy had sent Elizabeth and the one sent to him, he’d have known this was not an honest lawman. He reminded Alexzander of one of the first investigations he’d been involved with in Beckham. Three deacons who’d seemed at first glance to be proper and pious men were soon discovered that deep inside they were rotten to the core, from their black hearts to their even blacker souls. Looking into the eyes of this man he knew every word Betsy had written was true. This was an evil man with evil intent in his soul.

  “Well, Sheriff, the conductor mentioned that there were logging and mining here in this town and I reckoned a man might be able to make a good living by hunting and trapping up in them there mountains, providing meat to one or both of them places.”

  The phony lawman stared hard at him before smiling an oily smile. “Well, he just might at that. But I’m not the sheriff. I’m Charles Little, Town Marshal. So, don’t get into any trouble in town and we’ll not have a problem.”