Chapter 3

Sissy

Sissy spent the next few days cleaning and going through hers and her father's things until she thought her arms would fall off. Although she hated to do it, she sold the cow and the chickens to a local farmer who gave her a fair price. Then, she sold as many things as she could, knowing she couldn't take it with her on the train.

Train.

She had heard from Mr. Webster—the author of the advertisement—the next day in a telegram that read:

"I was happy to receive your wire! Stop.

I'd be delighted to have you as my mail-order bride. Stop.

A ticket to Laramie will be waiting for you at the train station at Cheyenne. Stop.

I look forward to seeing you Friday. Stop."

Excitement filled her at the prospect of a new life in Laramie. In all her days, she had never ventured from Cheyenne, and she was looking forward to seeing the countryside. Even though it would only be a two- or three-hour train ride, she was excited at the possibility of starting her new life.

When word got around, people came from all over Cheyenne to buy the things she had to sell. But she had saved her father's pocket watch and a locket that had belonged to her mother and stashed them in her reticule, not wanting anything to happen to them. By Thursday afternoon, she had sold nearly everything. She slipped some money into her reticule, and the rest she stashed in her corset, just in case.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Mrs. Caspian asked when she came to get Sissy that evening. She had offered to let her stay with them for the night, but Sissy was eager to go, so she planned to stay at the hotel in town. From there, she would take a stage coach to the train station the following morning.

"Yes, I am." Sissy gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Well, if you insist…." Mrs. Caspian's voice trailed off as her husband Noah helped her into the back of their buckboard.

"Thank you for taking me to the hotel. I truly appreciate it." Sissy had sold the buckboard and the team to Mr. Barnes, the owner of the livery stable in town, who had given her a fair price.

"Think nothing of it." Mrs. Caspian waved her hand dismissively from the buckboard.

They rode in silence and soon pulled up in front of the hotel in town. When Mr. Caspian helped her down, Mrs. Caspian was wringing her handkerchief, tears in her eyes. "I never thought it would come to this."

"Thank you for everything you did for me, Mrs. Caspian. Not only now, but over the years." Tears stung Sissy's eyes.

Mrs. Caspian sniffed, holding her hands. "Now, if you get there and the man's a bore or a pig, you come straight back here. All right?"

A smile lit Sissy's lips. "I will."

"And I'll be sure to place flowers on your father's grave for you when I can." Mrs. Caspian sniffed.

"I'm much obliged." Sissy knew if she didn't say goodbye to the woman soon, she would be tempted not to go. But then again, there was nothing to hold her here anymore. "I'm planning on visiting his grave tonight before I leave."

Mrs. Caspian nodded, dabbing at another tear. "That would be nice." Then she placed her hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length. "My, my! How much you've grown! You're now a beautiful young woman."

"Now, dear…." Mr. Caspian held his wife's arm as he slid his other arm around her waist. "Let's let Miss Spenser go so she can rest before her trip tomorrow."

"Yes, you're quite right, my dear." Mrs. Caspian gave Sissy air kisses over both of her cheeks. "Take care of yourself."

"I will." Tears sprang to Sissy's eyes, too. "And thank you again for your kindness."

After saying their last goodbyes, Mr. Caspian carried her trunk into the lobby of the hotel, and Sissy stood on the porch, waving goodbye as they drove away.

Once she had checked into the hotel and the man had brought up her trunk, Sissy headed over to the General Store, bought some flowers, and then headed toward the cemetery as red, orange, and yellow hues streaked across the sky, signaling the end to another day.

When she walked into the cemetery, her father's grave was easy to find beside her mother's. they were situated under a shade tree that was now barren, resembling a wicked sentinel standing guard over her father's grave. But Sissy knew that come spring, leaves and tiny buds would cover the tree, making it beautiful again. His tombstone read simply: Robert Spenser, devoted husband, devoted father, town preacher.

Sissy laid the flowers on his grave as she pulled her heavy coat around her, the wind biting. "Father, I promise I'll live well, as you had said before you died. I'm going to Laramie for a new life, so I won't be back for a while. But I know that you'll always be with me… in my heart." She sniffed, wiping a tear away from her eye. "Father, I know you're with Mother now, and I want you to be happy. Don't worry about me. I'll be just fine. But I want you both to know how much I love you. Thank you for your sacrifice while raising me. I promise it won't be in vain." When she was finished, she kissed her hand and held it out to the tombstone. "Goodbye, and I love you both."

As she headed back to the hotel, tiny snowflakes fell to the earth, covering the ground in a soft blanket of white. Sissy knew that she was leaving at the perfect time. In another month, she was sure she may be snowed in.

Sissy slept fitfully during the night, hoping she was making the right choice. Also, the scene of her father being shot, him lying lifeless on the sidewalk, and Vincent saving her kept running through her mind.

But when the faint rays of morning sunshine shone through the windows, excitement soon replaced her fear. She just hoped her new husband was a good man.

After eating a healthy breakfast and checking out of the hotel, she waited at the General Store for the stage coach. It arrived just in time and the gentleman loaded her trunk into the back.

A few people had come to see her off, each telling her to come back to visit soon.

The stage coach driver looked down at his pocket watch. "Miss, we really must be going."

"Yes, of course!" She let him help her into the stagecoach and she waved as it pulled off, headed toward the train station.

When she arrived, she checked in and the stage coach driver left her trunk for her near the counter.

"Next!" yelled a tired man behind the counter as Sissy stepped up. "Where to, miss?" His eyes were heavy, and he looked bored as he waited for her to respond.

"Mr. Webster has a ticket waiting for me bound for Laramie." Her lips twitched into a nervous smile as she clutched her reticule. "He said it would be waiting for me."

"Yes, yes." He scoffed, shaking his head as he glanced down at the ticket, narrowing his eyes. "What's your name?"

"Sissy. Sissy Spenser."

"Sign here." He rolled his eyes as he laid a sheet of paper on the counter and pointed to the X. After signing it, she slid it back to him through the window. He let out an exasperated breath as he stamped it, and then slid a ticket to her across the counter. "Train leaves for Laramie in five minutes. Hurry or you'll be late."

"Thank you!" Sissy held onto her hat as she ran toward the train and stepped up in line, hoping her trunk would make it onto the train with her.

When it was her turn, the conductor checked her ticket. "You're in third class to the left."

"Third class?" her voice rose several octaves.

The man smiled sheepishly. "That's what the ticket says." He held it up to her "See? Immigrant class—"

"Okay." She placed her hand over his and pushed the ticket down.

He punched it and extended his hand toward her, handing her back the ticket. "I hope you enjoy your journey."

"Thank you." She took the ticket and headed toward the front of the train. When she saw Mr. Webster, she was going to have a few things to say to him.

She headed down the narrow corridor into a car with rows of tight seating.

A porter checked her ticket and then she headed down the aisle and stopped before three seats. Two men sat on either side of the vacant seat in the middle, both leering at her.

"Oh, no! I'm not sitting here."

"Ma'am." The porter placed his hands on his hips. "That's what your ticket says and that's where you're going to sit."

She motioned toward him to step away from the other men. "What if I pay the difference on at least a second-class ticket?"

He let out an exasperated breath. "You'll have to buy another ticket, then you can be refunded for this one."

"Then so be it," she growled. "It's been stamped as being used. Could you make a note in the registry so I can be refunded?"

He let out a deep breath. "Come with me and I'll see what I can do."

He walked back toward the conductor and had a few words with him privately.

The first conductor took her ticket and approached her. "Ma'am, we'll be glad to upgrade your ticket. Follow me to the ticket booth and we'll get this straightened out."

"Thank you." Sissy rushed to keep up with him as he stepped off the train, had a few words with the man in the booth, and then quickly presented her with another ticket.

"That'll be an additional forty-five dollars, please." He held his hand out, waiting.

"All aboard!" announced the conductor at the train.

Sissy hurried to dig the money out of her reticule and handed it to the man. "Is this for a first-class ticket?"

He shook his head. "No. I refunded the sixty-five-dollar immigrant ticket and with your additional forty-five dollars, that'll get you a second-class ticket."

"All aboard!" the conductor on the train yelled again.

"Fine!" Sissy slapped down the money and waited for the man to stamp it. He slid it back to her just as the train started moving. She grabbed the ticket and ran toward the train car, stepping up into it just before it started picking up speed.

The conductor on the train helped her up. "Ticket, please?"

Out of breath and feeling disheveled, she handed him the ticket. "Second class to your right." He handed her the stub. "Enjoy your journey."

"Thank you." She headed toward the right as he had instructed and found herself in a train car with spaces between the seats, three on each side of a spacious aisle.

She handed the porter her ticket and he looked up at her and smiled. "Right this way, Ma'am." He stopped before an empty seat by a window and another woman was sitting in the aisle seat. The one in the middle was empty.

Sissy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

He bowed and smiled, and then headed off to help another passenger.

Sure she looked terrible, she took off her hat, refixed her blonde curls, and then pinned it back into place.

"Here." A small hand mirror suddenly appeared before her. Sissy looked up and the young woman was smiling. Her accent was a cross between an Irish brogue and a British accent. "I thought this might help."

"Thank you." After taking the mirror, Sissy refixed her hair and pinned her hat back into place. Then, she took off her coat, leaving it on the back of her seat, and handed the mirror back to the young woman. "Thank you for lending it to me. I truly appreciate it."

"It was my pleasure," she replied, smiling. Then, she reached out her hand, palm down. "The name's Kenzie. Kenzie Baker."

"Sissy Spenser." Sissy shook her hand and then turned her attention back to the window, enjoying watching the snow falling outside. "It looks like we made it on the train just in time."

"Yes," Kenzie replied. "If we would have waited until tomorrow, we may have been snowed in." She leaned in conspiratorially. "They're calling for bad weather tonight."

"Then, we're lucky indeed." Sissy smiled, grateful to have made a new friend. "So, do you live in Laramie?"

She shook her head. "No, last year, I moved to a town called Whiskey River. I own a dress shop there called The Lady's Dress Emporium."

"Congratulations!" Sissy replied. "I sew, too."

Kenzie nodded, smiling. "Did you make your dress and gloves?"

"Yes." Sissy nodded. "I didn't have much time to make a new dress, but I made this one not long ago."

"It's beautiful!" Kenzie gushed. "Well, if you ever find yourself in Whiskey River, come see me for a job. Business is growing and I'm having a difficult time keeping up with the orders."

"Well, I'm planning to stay in Laramie, but I'll keep that in mind."

The time passed quickly as she chatted with Kenzie. Sissy was glad that she didn't have to spend the whole trip fighting off lecherous men. With Kenzie, she could actually relax.

"So, champagne?" Kenzie's eyes danced. "It's my treat, of course."

"Sure," Sissy replied. "That sounds lovely."

Kenzie shrugged. "I figure, what could it hurt? There's nothing else to do!"

Sissy laughed. Even though they had just met, she already liked this woman.

A waiter passed but Kenzie flagged him down. "A bottle of your best champagne, please!"

He chuckled. "Right away, miss." Then he hurried off to do her bidding.

"So, were you away on business?" Sissy asked, clearly intrigued with the young woman not much older than herself.

"Yes, my benefactor, Mr. Charles Whitfield, needed to speak with me regarding the business, so I hopped a train and headed to New York!"

"Here you go!" The waiter handed each of them a glass, covered the bottle with a hand towel and popped the cork, then filled their glasses.

"Cheers!" Kenzie said when the waiter laughed, and then touched her glass to Sissy's, the pinging sound resonating around them, earning them tired looks from a woman across the aisle. Her husband chuckled, clearly amused by the young women, until his wife jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

"To us!" Sissy took a sip of the champagne. It tickled her nose and fizzled all the way down. "Well… that was different!"

"You've never had champagne before?"

Sissy shook her head, wondering how much to tell this woman, but thought the truth was the best choice. "My father was a preacher, so I've never had it before."

"Well, stick with me and you'll have more." Kenzie shrugged. "But drinking a little champagne in moderation never hurt anyone." She held up the bottle, wiggling it back and forth, causing Sissy to laugh.

Meeting Kenzie was what Sissy needed. After the fiasco with the seats, she was having doubts as to whether or not to go through with it. But meeting Kenzie helped her to relax and made the trip bearable.

During the trip, her mind wandered to Vincent, the young outlaw, but he had been with the man who killed her father. Yet, he had saved her. It was so confusing. But in their brief meeting, she sensed that there was much more to him than what met the eye.

"Would you like more?" Kenzie held up the bottle, smiling.

"Yes, please." Sissy held out her glass and Kenzie filled it up. Chatting with a new friend was the perfect way to pass the time on her way to meeting her new husband.

Husband.

After the fiasco with the immigrant ticket, she was having second thoughts about Mr. Webster. If this was how he treated his future wife, she could just imagine what their life together would be like.

But only time would tell… and she had a feeling it would be telling soon enough.