The Bride

Chapter one - Arrival

Blake Wellman watched the dust covered stagecoach pull to a rocking halt in front of the Cooper Hotel and Saloon. The lathered horses marched nervously in the traces as the driver set the brake and tied the reins off.

He jumped down, taking off his hat and wiping his face and pulling open the stage door with a weary call to climb on out. A nervous little man with a large case clutched to his chest was first out and went immediately into the hotel. Next came a couple of elderly looking homesteaders, exhaling as if they had held their breath for the entire ride. Last out was a young woman in a creased gown with her petticoat showing and a pert little hat with a half veil, on her head.

Blake watched the passengers debark then focused for a minute on the young woman trying to orient herself, appraising his purchase as he might any other addition to his stock. He climbed off his wagon and walked out into the street to greet her.

"Allison Bleeker?"

The woman turned and looked inquiringly at the man. His ruddy face looked sun worn behind the almost orange moustache and the faded blue, close set eyes presented an angry countenance.

"Are you Mister Wellman?" Her voice carried an uncertainty as she observed the man that had sent east for a bride.

"Wagon's over here. You have a bag?"

"Yes. That grey one there by the coach."

"Fetch it and let's go. Half hour's ride from here and I still got work to do."

On the steps of the general store across the street, Sheriff Nathan Tessler watched the woman struggle with the bag while Wade waited on the wagon. He stepped down and crossed the street, tipping his hat and introducing himself.

"Let me do that, ma'am. Looks a mite heavy for a young lady."

Without waiting, he picked up the bag and walked to the wagon, setting it in the back and then purposely helping the woman up onto the seat beside Blake.

"Lost all your manners livin' out there by yourself, Wellman?"

The scowl was the only answer and as he slapped the reins on the horse's rump, Tessler tipped his hat again to the woman, her eyes had clung to him with a frightened uncertainty as the wagon bumped away, raising a powdery cloud of dirt. Nathan watched the couple all the way to the end of town.

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The ride to the ranch through a flat uninteresting landscape was dusty, uncomfortable and taken in silence. The only attempt at conversation was met with a grunt and a sense of dread spread over the woman's earlier anticipated excitement. It spread further as the wagon pulled to a stop in front of a hopeless, shoddy looking cabin.

"Git down, this is it." Wellman jumped off the wagon and headed for the cabin door.

"Could you please get my suitcase?"

He stopped and wandered slowly back to where she stood. "This ain't the city, lady; you learn to do for yerself out here." He grabbed the bag off the wagon and dropped it at her feet.

Allison stared after him; the bleak feeling enshrouding her increasing. She stared at what was meant to be her new home, a stark, ugly structure on scruffy weed dotted ground; the only trees a thin line on the near horizon and she felt her eyes well up, disillusionment piling on like earth in a fresh grave . . . her grave. Gathering her dress about her, she left her bag by the wagon and walked to the cabin door, stopping to experience yet another wave of dismay.

One room consisting of a smoke stained stone fireplace beside a small counter with a bowl, pitcher and an overhead cupboard. A tiny widow with a dirty limp curtain provided the room's only daylight. Exposed in the paltry gleam was a three drawer dresser, a scarred table with a pair of chairs and in the corner a bed barely large enough for two, covered in a grubby blanket.