Caught Between Love And Duty Read online

  “What are you still doing up, dear sister?” he crowed with an inebriated smile. “Thought you’d be saving your strength for your Romeo.”

  “Hello Elias,” she said flatly. “Must you be out drinking every night of the week and then come tripping in to wake people up with your shouting?”

  Elias mugged an exaggerated frown. “Just making a little merry! But I understand. You’re a sour grape because Mother and Father are making you walk the plank with that lecher Bishop. And you know what? I don’t blame you one bit, sis. If I had to crawl into bed with that old geezer, I’d be climbing the walls too!” He laughed loudly as if she should find this remark hilarious. But then, Elias had never shown much concern for her feelings one way or the other, in any situation.

  “Shut up, you drunk,” William’s voice called from the other door of the parlor.

  “Oh-ho!” said Elias, turning his attention to the younger Warton. “Little brother to the rescue, as always. Sticking up for big sister, are we?”

  “Somebody has to. Better than being a drunken cad who doesn’t care about anybody but himself,” William shot back.

  “Stop it, both of you,” Georgia intervened. “You’re going to wake up Mama and Daddy.”

  “Someone needs to wake them up,” Elias chortled darkly. “They’re selling you down the river for a barrel of cash, Georgie girl.”

  William walked quickly into the room and took Georgia’s hand. “Come on, sis. I’ve got something to show you.” He led her out of the parlor and they started up the stairs. Elias stood in the doorway watching them go, swaying unsteadily on his feet.

  At the top of the landing they turned into William’s room. He shut the door quietly then pulled open a drawer in his desk and grabbed a couple of newspapers. “Here,” he said, placing them in her hands. “Read these.”

  “I don’t feel like browsing the paper at one in the morning,” Georgia groaned, “I just want to go to bed now.”

  “Look at what it’s called,” he insisted. The boy took one of the newspapers and held it up in front of her face. “Matrimonial News. It’s a weekly that comes from Kansas City. Guys out west who are looking for a wife put ads in here. They tell you what they do for a living and everything. Even how tall they are.”

  Georgia grabbed the paper from him and read the banner underneath the masthead:

  Women need a man’s strong arm to support her in life’s struggle, and men need a woman’s love.

  She flipped the paper open, found one of the bachelor’s ads, and read it aloud:

  “A gentleman of 30 years old, 5 feet 3 inches, doing a good business in the city, desires the acquaintance of a young, intelligent, and refined lady possessed of some means, of a loving disposition from 18 to 23 and one who could make home a paradise.”

  “Well I’m too old for that one,” she said in a defeated tone. “What are you trying to do here, Willy, find me a husband?”

  “Yes,” he grinned.

  She stared at him for a moment. “You’re serious?”

  He nodded determinedly.

  “But what about Mama and Daddy? If I don’t show up in June then Bishop won’t bail out the company. The family will be ruined.”

  “That’s not true,” William replied. “I found out that Bishop inflated the freighter’s recovery costs to get his way with Father. He’s been lying to us all along and I’m going to prove it. You know what that means, sis? We’re off the hook! We don’t need Bishop’s loan and you don’t have to marry the old goat.”

  Georgia was stunned by the news. “How did you get this information?”

  “It doesn’t matter right now. Listen, it’s going to take months to prove what Evil Abe has been up to. I’ve got to be very careful and thorough because Father will never believe it without the seeing the proof. You know what he’s like. So that means you have to get out of Boston before the wedding, sis. I’ve got some cash saved up and if you sell your jewelry, that’ll be enough to get as far away from here as you want. Don’t worry, I’ll handle Mother and Father while you’re gone.”

  An opportunity to escape marrying Abe Bishop without bankrupting the family was all Georgia needed to hear. She embraced William’s plan wholeheartedly, trusting him completely. She didn’t need to know all the details of Bishop’s corruption – she didn’t even care what they were. All she cared about was that a way out had appeared. An honorable way out.

  Sweet William! He had always looked out for her. Now she marveled at how he had come through again. Just a boy of seventeen years old, yet so wise and kind. There was an urgent question pressing upon her mind, however.

  “Where will I go?”

  William looked down at the copies of Matrimonial News in Georgia’s hands. “You always said you wanted to meet a real cowboy some day, sis. Maybe this is the time.” He smiled at her. “So? What do you think?”

  She stared at the window behind him, letting the new reality of the situation sink in for a moment. “Okay. What have I got to lose?” She burst into a happy grin and threw her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, little brother! What would I have done without you?” She kissed him on the cheek and his face flushed with embarrassment.

  “Go on now, get out of here,” William scolded with mock annoyance, waving her out of the room. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Georgia turned away with a smile, stole down the hallway to her room and threw herself excitedly on the bed. A thrill of freedom and relief ran through her body. She stretched out deliciously and let the feeling wash over her. After a minute, she closed her eyes and whispered a prayer: “Lord, this has all happened so fast. Thank you for making an honorable way out of the situation so that I don’t have to marry Mr. Bishop! Help Papa and Mama to understand. And I pray, dear Father, please help me find a husband who will be good for me and I for him. Wherever You choose to lead me. Amen.”

  She opened the Matrimonial News. “Well, no use wasting any time then, I guess.” Flipping over a couple of pages, Georgia closed her eyes, reached out an index finger, and placed it squarely in the center of the page. Then she opened her eyes and read the ad her finger had landed upon:

  Texas cattle rancher and sheriff, 30, near six foot tall, seeks mature woman to share matrimony and hard work in west hill country. Reply - 294

  “Well, what do you know? There’s a cowboy in Texas looking for a wife,” she giggled. Georgia grabbed a sheet of paper from the bedside table and topped up her inkwell. Then, dipping the tip of a feather-quill pen into the ink, she began to write a reply to ad number 294.

  Dear Sheriff. I am a Boston debutante fleeing from an arranged engagement.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, “that will never do! I don’t want to scare the man off in the first sentence.” She threw the piece of paper into the wastebasket and started again.

  Dear Sheriff,

  I am a seamstress living in Boston, Massachusetts. I am 25 years old, 5’ 5” with green eyes, auburn hair, and a fine figure. I am an excellent cook and not afraid of hard work. I would love to come to Texas to meet you and see if we are a good match to share the matrimony you desire. I can pay for my own ticket. Please write back at your earliest convenience.

  Yours truly,

  Georgia Warton

  PS. I also like to play chess.

  The next day she posted the letter but was careful to use a return address at a girlfriend’s house. She didn’t want the sheriff’s reply – if he replied at all – to be sent to the Warton home and somehow get intercepted by her parents or Elias. That would be disastrous. Her girlfriend, Annabelle, was married but her husband was an easygoing fellow and wouldn’t mind the mail arrangement at all.

  * * *

  A month later, Georgia was thrilled when Annabelle presented her with a letter posted from Sonora, Texas, by a Mr. James McCloud.

  “Oh, that’s a fine strong name isn’t it, Annie? ‘James McCloud.’ I love it!”

  “I wonder if he carries a six-shooter?” her friend giggled.
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  “He’s probably killed six or seven outlaws in gunfights, no doubt,” Georgia said with a chuckle. She tore the letter open and read it as Annabelle looked excitedly over her shoulder.

  Dear Ms. Warton,

  Thank you for your recent reply. I’m tickled pink to hear that you enjoy chess. I’ve been playing for years myself. It’s also good to hear you’re an excellent cook and a seamstress. Those things come in very handy on a ranch.

  “What? You told him you’re a seamstress?” Annabelle exclaimed.

  “What else was I going to say, Annie? Tell him I’m a Boston deb running away from an engagement to a rich old man? He would have thrown my letter in the garbage.”

  I and my brother David own a fine spread near town running beef cattle. Our Aunt Martha cooks and runs the house. I’m sheriff of Sutton County, but am home most nights. If this sounds good to you I would very much like to meet you, Ms. Warton. The train stops in San Antonio and from there it’s two days by mail stage to Sonora.

  Yours truly,

  James McCloud

  “That sounds so romantic, Georgia: a cattle ranch in Texas! Can I come with you?” her friend smiled.

  “Yes, absolutely. You and Alexander can chaperone us at the square dance on our first date.”

  Annabelle laughed and then stopped abruptly. “Hey! You’ve got to do something about your wardrobe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you kidding? You told him you’re a seamstress. You can’t show up in Texas wearing your Boston best. You’ve got to downsize and downgrade your entire closet, girl!”

  * * *

  Georgia rushed home and wrote a quick reply to Texas.

  Dear Mr. McCloud,

  I have just received your letter and would be thrilled to come to Sonora and meet you and your family. I also look forward very much to playing chess with you! I will leave Boston in one week’s time.

  Yours sincerely,

  Georgia Warton

  She went directly to the post office to send the letter, then stopped by Annabelle’s house on the way home.

  “That’s it, Annie, I’m on my way to Texas in a week. I just posted my reply.”

  “I can’t believe it, this is so crazy romantic,” Annabelle smiled.

  “Yes. It’s such a refreshing change from all those rude and boring callers over the years. Not to mention you know who.” Georgia rolled her eyes. “William reminded me that I always wanted to marry a cowboy someday. Maybe it really will come true. Who knows?”

  “Are you scared?” Annabelle asked.

  “Nah! What’s to be scared of? A fifteen-hundred-mile train trip all by myself and then a stagecoach ride across the wilds of Texas. It’s a piece of cake.”

  They both laughed. “I’ve always loved your humor, Georgie.”

  * * *

  William and Georgia spent the next week smuggling her expensive wardrobe and jewelry out of the Warton house, piece by piece, and then selling it at various pawn shops around the city. With the money they raised doing this – plus a small amount of cash William had saved up for her – Georgia was able to purchase a second-hand seamstress wardrobe and a train ticket for Texas.

  She stored her new clothes at Annabelle and Alexander’s house, along with a set of used luggage like the kind they thought a seamstress would own. Her very expensive luggage she gave to Annabelle as a farewell present.

  On the appointed day, Georgia arrived at Annabelle’s in her debutante dress for the last time.

  “Well, this is it, Annie. I want you to have this dress. I won’t be needing it anymore.”

  “Oh, it’s gorgeous! Thank you.” They embraced warmly and Georgia went to Annabelle’s room to finish packing her bags and change into a plain gray traveling dress.

  At 7:00 a.m. William appeared in a coach hired to get them to the train station. After he and the driver had loaded the luggage, the three of them climbed aboard and with a flick of the reins they were off.

  * * *

  “See? Told you so. I knew you’d marry a cowboy, sis,” William joked as they stood on the platform waiting for the westbound train to depart.

  “You did not!” Georgia teased.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I made that up.” They all laughed. “But I really do hope it works out for you two. You deserve someone special, sis, someone you can be happy with. That old geezer Bishop wasn’t the one for you.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Georgia laughed, then gave him a long hug. “Thanks for this, little brother. Thanks for everything.” They both blinked back tears and she turned to her friend to say good-bye. “I’m gonna miss you, Annie.”

  “Write me. Lots.” Annabelle said. “I want to know all about this cowboy you’re going to marry.” They embraced once more and then Georgia stepped onto the train.

  She popped her head out of a window and waved with a dramatic gesture. “Good-bye! Farewell!”

  “God speed, sis,” said William, waving back and trying not to cry.

  * * *

  This was the first time Georgia had traveled a long distance alone and although she tried not to show it, she was very nervous. She resolved to spend most of her time in a window seat holding a book in front of her face, and trying not to attract the attention of anyone – especially men.

  This worked well for the first few miles and Georgia began to relax. She gazed out the window, enjoyed the scenery, and started to read a collection of Walt Whitman poetry that Annabelle had given her as a present for the trip.

  Well, this is not too bad at all. I could get used to this.

  “Excuse me, Miss,” said a gruff voice, intruding into the midst of her Whitman. Georgia glanced up and saw a shabby-looking man in a bowler hat standing in the aisle. “Is this seat taken?” he asked with a smile.

  “I’m sorry but it most certainly is,” she said in frustration, reaching into her carpetbag and putting a stack of books on the empty seat next to her.

  “Oh. I see,” the man said with disappointment, his smile disappearing. “Excuse me, Miss. Sorry to trouble you.” He touched the brim of his hat and quickly found another seat.

  Georgia heaved a sigh of relief and returned to her book.

  One down, fourteen-hundred miles to go. How I wish Annabelle or William came with me.

  3

  Sheriff James McCloud and his brother David sat on their horses on a ridge overlooking the Golden Lane Ranch. A warm spring wind rustled the leaves of a nearby grove of oaks as they gazed down at their herds of longhorn cattle. “Mighty good to feel spring coming on,” James commented, his gray eyes ranging over the peaceful scene before them.

  “Yes, sir,” David agreed, taking a deep breath of Texas air. “Ain’t no more beautiful season on God’s green earth.” David was a couple years older than James and a few inches shorter than his brother’s five feet, eleven inches. They differed in other ways, too. David’s thinning brown hair and pot belly stood in marked contrast to James’s broad shoulders, muscular build, and thick shock of black hair.

  The younger brother was a rugged man of action, a lawman skilled at handling firearms and criminals. The older was more given to the contemplative life, a confirmed bachelor, though also a skilled rancher, horseman, and manager of the outfit’s finances. Beneath their wide Stetson hats the brothers wore wide handlebar mustaches and rugged range clothes consisting of brown canvas jeans, leather vests, and gingham shirts.

  “When’s your young lady from Boston due in town?” David asked.

  “Tomorrow,” James replied. “She’s taking the stage down from San Antonio.”

  “Nervous?” David asked playfully.

  “Naw!” James chuckled, looking over at him. “We exchanged a couple letters. I like the gal. She’s got spunk. Though, you think maybe I should’ve asked Georgia to send a photograph first?”

  David burst into laughter and turned his horse toward Sonora, the small ranching town that could be seen just beyond the rolling hills of their rang
e. “She didn’t ask for a picture of your ugly mug, now did she?” he said. “Fair enough then, you’re starting off even. Besides it seems plumb rude to ask a woman for her photograph before she comes for a visit.”

  “I reckon,” James agreed. “Doesn’t seem like something a gentleman would do.”

  “Good luck, little brother!” David called out as he nudged his horse forward. “I’m heading into town to do some business. Want me to pick some flowers for the little lady on my way back?”