Emer: Clover Springs Mail Order Brides Read online

  Emer

  Rachel Wesson

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Epilogue

  Also by Rachel Wesson

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Rachel Wesson

  www.rachelwesson.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  Kansas, 1881

  “How about you give us a kiss, Sugar? It’d sure make this slop taste better.”

  Tempted as she was to throw the pot of beans over him, Emer wasn’t that brave. Her mother had taken the strap to her the last time she had given Bill lip.

  Her whole body stiffened as she imagined what he might do to her. His eyes gleamed as he spat tobacco juice out the corner of his mouth. She was scared of him. She tried to hide her fear but they both knew he knew. She saw it in his eyes.

  She had seen just how cruel he was when one of his own gang had gotten shot on a raid. Instead of going for a doctor or even letting her help the injured man, he'd let his friend die in agony. She could still hear the man screaming, begging to be put out of his misery. Bill had laughed, an evil sound that pierced the very center of her heart. How she wished she didn’t have to see him every day.

  She bit her tongue and put a smile on her face. "Would you like some, Fred?" She ducked as Fred's boot came flying at her. They were drunk again and drink made them nasty. In her haste to escape, she tripped and fell, sprawling in the mud. "Looks like she wants more than a kiss Bill." Fred laughed at his own joke.

  Emer scrambled to get away, the pot of beans left behind her. To the sound of their ribald laughter, she ran and kept running until she couldn't go any further. Panting heavily, she turned around to check if any of them had followed her. They hadn’t. She was safe. For now.

  She rested for a few minutes, wondering where her ma had got to. Patty knew how much she hated being alone with the men but she didn't care. All she cared about was where her next drink came from. Emer brushed away the sole tear running down her cheek. Crying was for babies and she was way too old to be giving in to a pity party. She would be fifteen next month.

  Ripe for marrying, according to Bill. She shuddered as the image of his face filled her head. He was filthy, not just in mind but in body, too. The others didn’t bathe that often but at least they went to the barber for the occasional shave and hair cut. Bill's hair was almost as long as hers. It was impossible to tell his hair color, it was so greasy. If he sat in the sun too long, she could probably fry an egg on his head. She giggled for a few seconds before her smile slid from her face. There was nothing to laugh about.

  She pulled herself together and headed back to the house. If she kept away from the camp round the front, she would hopefully avoid Bill. Walking into the kitchen, she heard voices. Ma had company. She expected Emer to get lost when she was entertaining. She was about to leave when she heard her name. Curiosity overcame common sense. She tiptoed to the door to listen.

  "You know I'm right, Patty. A fresh girl like Emer will make us a fortune. Those blonde curls and baby blue eyes. They're every fella's dream."

  "Alfie, she's so innocent."

  "That’s what makes her special. Dora will train her so she knows what to do to keep the fellas happy. Just like her ma."

  Emer hugged her arms across her chest. He couldn't mean Dora from the Silver Garter tavern. That lady had eyes as hard as rocks.

  She strained closer trying to hear more.

  “I dunno. She's my baby girl." Ma's voice sounded doubtful.

  "You ain't got much choice. Bill has his eye on her and he'll take what he wants for free. At least this way, you get something out of it."

  "But selling her?"

  "Don’t go all high and mighty on me now, Patty. We both know it ain’t the first time you dumped one of your girls.”

  Emer let her breath out. Ma wouldn't sell her. Would she? Any doubts she had soon disappeared.

  "I left Sorcha with my ma. She’s a good Catholic woman. She’ll bring her up properly. I didn’t sell her.” Ma fell silent. Emer moved closer to the door, trying to listen better. When she heard the bedcovers rustling, she took a step back. A couple of minutes later, Ma spoke again. “How much would Dora pay?"

  Emer's hand flew to her mouth as Alfie chuckled.

  "Not sure what the going rate is. Would be better if we had her sister, too, especially if she looks like Emer. What age is she?"

  "Seventeen, I reckon. No way my ma would let her go so you best get that idea out of your head."

  "I dunno. I'm quite persuasive. I could go see your ma and convince her to let the girl reunite with her real ma. I could tell her you are broken-hearted without your little girl at your side."

  Emer almost laughed. Her ma? Heartbroken. That would be the day!

  "Come on, Patty, what you say?"

  Emer recoiled at the sound of kissing.

  "A little bit of cash could set us up nicely. You're getting on – all that liquor is taking its toll. It’s time we set down roots. And get married."

  "Nah, don’t get hasty. We don’t need a preacher, do we, girl? We do fine together."

  Emer heard her ma crying. Crocodile tears. She’d seen her turn on the water works more often then she remembered. In the past, it meant she got her own way.

  "Don't go wasting that crying act on me. I got better things to be doing. You think about what I said. You got debts to clear, Patty, and I've been patient. I want my money."

  Emer hid in the shadows. She heard the man get up and swear when he couldn’t find his boots. She didn’t move until Alfie rode off. Then she went in to confront her mother.

  Chapter 2

  Boston 1881

  Lawrence was glad he had decided to walk. The streets were blocked. Countless cabs and buggies stood waiting for the crowd to pass. He continued walking, wondering why so many people had gathered. Spotting a casual acquaintance, he walked toward him.

  “What’s going on, Cooper? Any idea?”

  “Some demonstration over workers’ rights again. Don’t these people know they are lucky to have a job? If they don’t want to
work, we can find others that do.”

  Some workers and their families marched past them. Lawrence was amazed to see women and children marching with the men. They looked pitifully thin and their clothes, if you could call them that, resembled rags.

  “These people have jobs. Why do they look as if they are starving?”

  “I don’t know, Shipley. They spend it all on liquor. Who knows? And frankly, who cares? Where are the police? I will be late for my dinner engagement at this rate.”

  Unlike Cooper, he was curious as to why working men would take time out of their day and lose wages to hold a demonstration. He moved closer to what seemed to be the center of the marchers, holding a handkerchief to his nose as the smell of unwashed bodies became intolerable.

  In the distance, he heard whistles. He sensed panic and desperation as the crowd around him surged forward, walking closer together. He heard a man address the people around him. “Easy, now, no need to push. It’s a peaceful demonstration. You have nothing to fear.”

  Lawrence had seen enough. He turned away from the direction the crowd was heading and moved toward the direction of home.

  He hadn’t made much progress when the police arrived. Without warning, they charged the crowd. Stunned by their actions, Lawrence couldn’t move. He watched as panic spread through the crowd and chaos ensued. A small child tripped. He would have been trampled if his mother hadn’t dragged him to his feet. A policeman hit a man near him, causing him to fall to the ground. His wife and children threw themselves at the policeman who then used his truncheon to defend himself.

  A blow hit a child, causing a wide gash to open on his forehead. Lawrence reacted without thinking. He grabbed the truncheon from the policeman’s hand and threw it to the ground. Another man hit the policeman, who fell to the floor. Lawrence jumped in front of the men and the policeman. He mightn’t agree with the officer using his truncheon on the crowd but he wasn’t about to leave him defenseless, either.

  “Enough. Take your family home. Now. This is only going to get worse. Your child needs a doctor.”

  The worker he addressed stared at him sullenly for a couple of minutes before walking away, dragging his wife and child behind him. His friends followed them, leaving Lawrence to help the policeman back to his feet.

  “You best get home, Sir, before someone arrests you.”

  Lawrence didn’t get a chance to respond as the policeman rushed off back to the center of the action.

  Dusting himself down, he walked home deep in thought. If working families were this badly off, how did those without a job survive?

  “Lawrence Shipley, why can’t you behave?”

  Lawrence didn’t answer the rhetorical question.

  “How many times do I need to remind you of our position in society?”

  “Mother, I couldn’t stand by and watch as women and children were beaten. It was a peaceful protest. Until the police arrived.”

  “You cannot behave like this. Look at the state of your clothes! Is that blood?”

  Lawrence looked down at his trousers. It could be blood or mud. He wasn’t sure and it wasn’t as if his mother cared, anyway.

  “You cannot get involved in public demonstrations. The laws reflect the wishes of the people.”

  “Do they, Mother?”

  His mother ignored him. She continued her lecture. “It reflects badly on your father.”

  Dorothea Shipley stared at her son. Lawrence stared back. Unlike the rest of the household, he wasn’t afraid of his mother, a fact not lost on the woman standing in front of him. The door opened and his father walked into the room.

  What’s he doing home so early? Lawrence’s mouth went dry as he tried to resist the urge to leave the room.

  “Lawrence, we have tried to be patient. I convinced your mother we should turn a blind eye to your reckless behavior. You are a young man and I believed you would mature.”

  Lawrence stiffened at the censure in his father’s gaze.

  “At your age, Roger had completed five years as manager of Shipley Bank. He was engaged to be married to a wonderful girl from a fine family.”

  Saint Roger. He was not going to stand here and listen to his parents’ glowing commentary on his elder brother. He moved, but his father’s stern gaze gave him pause.

  “We have decided to give you one final chance. Roger has agreed to train you in all aspects of banking. You will work under his guidance for the next two years. Only then will I consider entertaining this wish of yours to go west.”

  “Father, please. You know I have no wish to join the bank. I want to work with Grandpa Joe.”

  “Your grandfather agrees with me.”

  He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Would he?

  “I can see you are surprised. Joseph is a smart man. He believes you need to grow up. You are immature and lacking in moral fiber. You spend your days gallivanting from one place to another playing pranks.”

  “This wasn’t a prank. Father, people got hurt. I only stepped in when I saw a man hit a child.”

  “The child had no place being there.”

  Lawrence opened his mouth but closed it again. There was no point trying to explain to his parents the sights he had seen in Boston. They only wanted to see the nice side of the city.

  “There is no purpose to your life. You have a role to fulfill. If you truly wish to take over from your grandfather, he insists you complete this two-year program first.”

  Lawrence slumped into the chair. He idolized his grandfather and thought the man held him in high regard. To hear his father tell him the person he loved most thought him immature and irresponsible was devastating. He struggled to breath, never mind listen to what his father was saying.

  “Your grandfather has requested you do not contact him until you have completed your training. Like me, he is disappointed at your lack of ambition.”

  Lawrence looked at his father, wondering if he knew how his words devastated him. The cold stare gave away nothing.

  “You will start on Monday.”

  Lawrence didn’t answer. He didn’t stand when his parents left the room. He couldn’t trust his legs to support him. Since he could remember, all he ever wanted was to live with his grandparents.

  He adored his Grandpa Joe and loved spending time with him. Unlike his parents, his grandpa didn’t play favorites but treated Roger and himself the same. In later years, Roger had preferred to stay in Boston. Lawrence had spent every school holiday with his grandfather, only coming back to Boston when his parents insisted.

  Grandpa Joe had taught him how to ride, how to shoot and how to survive in the wild. Not that he got a chance to use these skills in Boston. He wanted to be like his grandfather. He had built a successful business from nothing.

  In the circles his parents moved in, a gentleman was one who dressed well, had completed his education and had a career. Grandpa Joe had no time for the politics of the Boston social scene. He didn’t even visit Boston except for family events such as Roger’s wedding.

  He’d thought Grandpa Joe would understand. He didn’t differentiate between men based on the color of their skin. He had said over and over, it was the color of a man’s heart that was the true test of character. Yet, this same man was insisting his grandson become a banker. Enter a career he hated. It involved making rich men richer.

  Lawrence pulled at his collar. He couldn’t breathe. The thought of spending the next two years working in the bank in close proximity to the brother he despised was horrendous. He wouldn’t do it. He would leave today. Run away. What would that prove? No, he had to stay. He wasn’t going to prove his parents and his grandfather right.

  He sat for a while, gathering his thoughts. He had a chance to make his grandfather proud. He would become the best banker his family had seen. Once the two years were complete, he would leave Boston and pursue his dream of setting up his own business. In the meantime, he would work harder than ever before.

  Chapter 3

  Kansas
1881

  “I should have left you with your sister, you unruly brat.”

  “Sister? What sister?”

  Patty didn’t want to answer and stuck her head back in her glass of booze

  “Ma, I asked you a question. Do I have a sister? Where is she? What’s her name?”

  Emer didn’t see the slap coming until it was too late. Her ears roared as her head rang from the impact.

  “Don’t you give me lip! I am still your ma.”

  “Aren’t I the lucky one?” Emer spat back but this time she stayed far out of reach.

  "What ya doing, listening to conversations that ain’t none of your concern? I told you to feed the boys and do the washing."

  Emer neatly sidestepped away from her mother's outstretched arm. Once she was far enough not to be belted, she said, "You were talking about me and my sister. The one I didn’t know I had. Or is it only one?"

  "You watch your tongue, girl, or I will just call Bill. Yeah, we both know he'd love to put you over his knee."

  "Ma, please. You ain’t going to give me to Dora, are you?

  "No, of course not, love. You're my baby girl. Come here and give me a cuddle."

  Emer tried not to gag as she hugged her mother. Sweat and whiskey didn’t make a good combination.

  "Now, go on and get me something to eat. Why don’t you sit with me?”

  Emer went to get her ma a plate but her own appetite had disappeared. Ma was only ever nice when she wanted something.

  “Ma, I got to go get some water and feed the animals. I’ll be back later.”

  Chapter 4

  Emer grabbed her shawl and left before her ma could argue. It was too dangerous to stay. Now that Ma knew she had heard her talk with Alfie, she could turn her over at any time to Dora.

  She walked and walked until she found herself almost at the Newmark homestead. As she was walking, her thoughts strayed to her first meeting with the Newmarks. She had busted her arm and Ma, in a rare show of maternal devotion, had taken her to see the Newmarks.