Hearts West by Chris Enss Page A

him that her moment of indecision had been short-lived: “Such a challenge was being presented—to go to an uncivilized land and make it civilized. Then it struck me. If I don’t do this I will spend my entire life working as a servant for the rich here.”
    Constance was employed as a personal maid to the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Ellicott City. She disliked her job and the daughter in particular. According to her journal, the woman treated Constance badly. The notion of having to keep such a job was distressing to her, but alternatives in Maryland were limited. Constance sat down with the other women and waited for the meeting to start.
    Archer Benton, a tall, well-built man with dark, unruly hair and a thick mustache made his way from a chair in front to a lectern. He was dressed in a brown suit, the jacket of which had obviously not been worn for some time, as the fit was a bit too snug. Even so, Constance noted that he “looked as if he possessed both brains and ambition.”
    All eyes were on Archer as he smiled at the crowd before him. After introducing himself—and his brothers Thadeus and Samuel, who were also present—he proceeded to explain to the eager audience his plan to take all interested parties to Oregon. The Bentons were owners of a sawmill in Albany, Oregon, and had been commissioned by the many eligible bachelors there to solicit brides.
    Archer promised the ladies a peaceful, tree-filled terrain, endless blue skies, and a husband for every widow and spinster. At the conclusion of his talk, several hopeful ladies hurried to sign a contract agreeing to make the trip. Constance Ranney was among them.
    Constance wrote her uncle that many of the girls at the meeting were from good families, “the kind of families that would never have me in their parlors because I’m a servant.” She went on to explain, “In Oregon, we will all be the same, just women looking for husbands. None of us any better than the other.”
    Less than a week after the idea of such a trip had been presented, Constance and the one hundred-plus other women who agreed to accompany the Benton Brothers back to Oregon were packed and waiting at the dock. Women like Josephine Ann Gibney would make the journey with her parents’ blessing. Constance’s parents forbade her to go, but she went anyway.
    On the morning of January 16, 1865, the Benton Brothers’ bevy of mail-order brides boarded a schooner called the Osceolo. The accommodations aboard were primitive, but the excited women were too preoccupied—with the anticipation of what the future would bring—to mind. The hopeful brides exchanged tearful goodbyes with loved ones. Some of the women continued waving to their family members until the coastline faded from site.
    It wasn’t long after the ship set sail that the majority of passengers went below deck and saw for the first time the vessel’s disorderly state. The boat was generally used to transport mules, and the ladies’ quarters were nothing more than stalls. Some of the women were so appalled at the unsanitary conditions and the smell that they demanded the Bentons turn the ship around and take them home. Josephine Ann Gibney was one of a handful of ladies who tried to bring order to the offended women.

    After much complaining and discussion about how the rugged West might be comparable and we’d be required to make the best of things there, we decided to press on. We tidied up the areas where we would be sleeping that night and determined to thoroughly clean our temporary home the next day.

    J. A. Gibney—January 16, 1865
    After several days of scrubbing and scouring, the women had transformed the mule scowl into a pristine, fresh-smelling freighter. Dispositions further improved when the ladies took over the kitchen. Once the galley had been fully cleaned, the ship’s crew was relieved of all cooking duties.

    I think