Chapter 1
Jenny Mason sat at the depot, her palms damp from perspiration. Discreetly looking around, she saw no one matching the description of her intended groom. The now worn letter was folded in her reticule and she removed it, rereading the words she had memorized. Of course the words hadn’t changed. She was still looking for a tall man with blonde hair and green eyes. He wrote that he’d wear a pale blue cotton shirt to distinguish himself. So far, Jenny had yet to see anyone fitting that description fully; some men had blonde hair but were short, while others were tall and wearing a blue shirt but had definitive dark brown hair.
The late afternoon sun was beginning to fade and anxiety was setting in. Had she come all this way to be forgotten or rejected? Perhaps John Thomas had saw her from a distance and decided that she was not what he wanted nor needed. What would she do if he did not appear? Most of her monies were sitting in her bank back home, waiting for news to be transferred. All she had with her were a few coins that were hidden in one of her trunks, sewn into a quilt. The quilt was the only sentimental thing she had left of Mama. She had left it to her daughter before she passed, sharing the story of how it came to be.
Her best friend Mabel and she had made it during the long winters back home in Pennsylvania, during the war while their husbands were off fighting. Both ladies were in the family way at the time, and it kept their minds occupied. Both women were to become war widows, remarrying after a proper mourning period to keep from becoming destitute. Mabel and Jenny’s mother remained the best of friends, until Mabel’s new husband moved them west in hopes of taking advantage of the Homestead Act, promising free land in return for working the earthen soil.
For several years, the two ladies kept in touch, but Mabel’s letters came to an abrupt end. Mama had fretted, wishing she knew what happened to her dear friend. Jenny remembered Mama packing away the quilt, unwilling to let the last vestige of that friendship become worn. Only on the coldest nights did Mama pull it out. Jenny was sad to think something could have happened to Mrs. Mabel. All her memories of Mama’s best friend were pleasant, and her son had been Jenny’s best friend. Eventually Mama had come to terms with the loss; whether some ill had begotten Mabel or not, Mama still suffered from the loss of contact. Their life in Pennsylvania had been good. When Mama remarried the year Mabel moved away, Mr. Mason asked her if she’d mind too terribly calling him Pa. Being a young girl, eager to please, she readily agreed. They moved several towns over where Mr. Mason had a fine dairy farm. Two more brothers had come along for Jenny, and life was about as perfect as could be.
Then one day everything changed. It was a balmy Sunday afternoon in late September. After church, Jenny had went home with her best friend, Abigail Murdock, whose parents ran the local mercantile. It had been an ideal day, trying on the latest dresses that arrived and gossiping over which boy they hoped would come to court them. Late afternoon came, and Mr. Richards, who owned a farm near Jenny’s, arrived at the mercantile with a somber look. He asked to speak with Mr. Murdock. A few minutes later, Mr. Murdock returned giving the grim news to her. There had been a freak wagon accident and her mother, step-father and two brothers had all perished.
Jenny couldn’t remember much about the rest of that day. She had woke up the next morning in the Murdock’s guest room with red, swollen eyes wishing she was in a nightmare that she could wake up from. Abigail’s parents took her in , and over the next few months everything changed. The farm was sold, leaving Jenny a fair savings to see her through, but the memories were too much.
At only nineteen years old she felt completely alone in the world. Even living with her
Jenny Mason sat at the depot, her palms damp from perspiration. Discreetly looking around, she saw no one matching the description of her intended groom. The now worn letter was folded in her reticule and she removed it, rereading the words she had memorized. Of course the words hadn’t changed. She was still looking for a tall man with blonde hair and green eyes. He wrote that he’d wear a pale blue cotton shirt to distinguish himself. So far, Jenny had yet to see anyone fitting that description fully; some men had blonde hair but were short, while others were tall and wearing a blue shirt but had definitive dark brown hair.
The late afternoon sun was beginning to fade and anxiety was setting in. Had she come all this way to be forgotten or rejected? Perhaps John Thomas had saw her from a distance and decided that she was not what he wanted nor needed. What would she do if he did not appear? Most of her monies were sitting in her bank back home, waiting for news to be transferred. All she had with her were a few coins that were hidden in one of her trunks, sewn into a quilt. The quilt was the only sentimental thing she had left of Mama. She had left it to her daughter before she passed, sharing the story of how it came to be.
Her best friend Mabel and she had made it during the long winters back home in Pennsylvania, during the war while their husbands were off fighting. Both ladies were in the family way at the time, and it kept their minds occupied. Both women were to become war widows, remarrying after a proper mourning period to keep from becoming destitute. Mabel and Jenny’s mother remained the best of friends, until Mabel’s new husband moved them west in hopes of taking advantage of the Homestead Act, promising free land in return for working the earthen soil.
For several years, the two ladies kept in touch, but Mabel’s letters came to an abrupt end. Mama had fretted, wishing she knew what happened to her dear friend. Jenny remembered Mama packing away the quilt, unwilling to let the last vestige of that friendship become worn. Only on the coldest nights did Mama pull it out. Jenny was sad to think something could have happened to Mrs. Mabel. All her memories of Mama’s best friend were pleasant, and her son had been Jenny’s best friend. Eventually Mama had come to terms with the loss; whether some ill had begotten Mabel or not, Mama still suffered from the loss of contact. Their life in Pennsylvania had been good. When Mama remarried the year Mabel moved away, Mr. Mason asked her if she’d mind too terribly calling him Pa. Being a young girl, eager to please, she readily agreed. They moved several towns over where Mr. Mason had a fine dairy farm. Two more brothers had come along for Jenny, and life was about as perfect as could be.
Then one day everything changed. It was a balmy Sunday afternoon in late September. After church, Jenny had went home with her best friend, Abigail Murdock, whose parents ran the local mercantile. It had been an ideal day, trying on the latest dresses that arrived and gossiping over which boy they hoped would come to court them. Late afternoon came, and Mr. Richards, who owned a farm near Jenny’s, arrived at the mercantile with a somber look. He asked to speak with Mr. Murdock. A few minutes later, Mr. Murdock returned giving the grim news to her. There had been a freak wagon accident and her mother, step-father and two brothers had all perished.
Jenny couldn’t remember much about the rest of that day. She had woke up the next morning in the Murdock’s guest room with red, swollen eyes wishing she was in a nightmare that she could wake up from. Abigail’s parents took her in , and over the next few months everything changed. The farm was sold, leaving Jenny a fair savings to see her through, but the memories were too much.
At only nineteen years old she felt completely alone in the world. Even living with her
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