Telegraph Bride: Sweet Historical Mail Order Brides of Lowell by MaryAnn Burnett Page B
Authors: MaryAnn Burnett
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that was water under the bridge. She had to get out of this as best she could. And as quickly as she could.
Never one to wait to be rescued when she could handle things herself, Elizabeth looked around for a clean place to set her carpetbag. Not seeing any, she gingerly placed the bag down in front of her and reached into her reticule to pull out her change purse.
She counted out eighteen dollars and sixty-nine cents, the cost of her one-way ticket here. It took most of her cash but it was necessary.
“Mr. Nelson, you did not portray yourself accurately in your advertisement for a wife. Our business deals are null and void. Here is your money back for my train ticket.”
Before she passed the money over, the sheriff slipped in and took it from her hand. “I’ll just be taking that on Mr. Nelson’s behalf. I’m sure he’d want this money going to some of the merchants he owes.” The sheriff turned to the man behind the bars. “Wouldn’t you?”
Mr. Nelson shrugged and slunk back over to the bench. “No skin off my nose.” He sat back down, leaned against the wall and pulled his hat down over his eyes without another word.
“Well!” Elizabeth flounced her skirts as if that could dislodge the dirty feeling she’d gotten in her dealings with Mr. Nelson. She had to get out of here. Now. Elizabeth picked up her carpet bag with both hands and tried to hold it as far from her clothing as possible.
“Good day to you, sheriff.” She turned and gave shudder when she felt her carpet bag connect with her knee. She didn’t dare look down to see what might be smeared on her skirt. Instead, she walked out of the building as quickly as she could without running. She didn’t stop until she was on the far side of the train station where no one from town could see her.
Her body shook as she leaned her back against the wall and dropped her bag at her side. Elizabeth’s knees gave out and she gave a little cry as she slid down the wall. The pain from her backside hitting the floor was no worse than the pain from her wounded pride.
The only other time she could remember feeling this angry and helpless at the same time was when the railroad told her she was no longer needed. Her station job had been given to a man coming back from the war. They had expected her to be cleared out of her company owned house the next day.
But at least then, it had been righteous anger. Now, she was more angry at herself for not thinking things through logically like she normally would. She’d jumped at the first opportunity to get out of Lowell without weighing the consequences. And look where it had gotten her. Alone in the middle of nowhere with very little cash.
CHAPTER FOUR
After staring at the sky for who knows how long and willing herself not to cry, Elizabeth stood up, brushed her skirts off as best she could, dragged the bottom of her carpetbag on the wooden planks of the platform to scrape off the worst of what might be on the bag and walked into the station.
“I’d like to send a telegram,” she said to the freckle-faced adolescent behind the counter.
“Um, sure, ma’am.” He patted his pockets and shifted papers around on the desk next to him. “If I could just find my pencil…”
Elizabeth tapped her finger on the counter to pull his attention back from his searching. He stopped and looked up.
She pointed and said, “Behind your ear.”
He gave a lopsided smile and retrieved the writing utensil. However, he went back to searching. She presumed this time for paper.
Finally, she could stand it no longer. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Elizabeth stepped around the counter, took off her right glove and began proficiently tapping out a Morse Code message on the telegraph machine. The boy gaped at her. She stepped back around the counter and placed seven cents on top of it. “This is the standard rate for the message I sent. Please let me know when my response comes in.”
She was putting her
Never one to wait to be rescued when she could handle things herself, Elizabeth looked around for a clean place to set her carpetbag. Not seeing any, she gingerly placed the bag down in front of her and reached into her reticule to pull out her change purse.
She counted out eighteen dollars and sixty-nine cents, the cost of her one-way ticket here. It took most of her cash but it was necessary.
“Mr. Nelson, you did not portray yourself accurately in your advertisement for a wife. Our business deals are null and void. Here is your money back for my train ticket.”
Before she passed the money over, the sheriff slipped in and took it from her hand. “I’ll just be taking that on Mr. Nelson’s behalf. I’m sure he’d want this money going to some of the merchants he owes.” The sheriff turned to the man behind the bars. “Wouldn’t you?”
Mr. Nelson shrugged and slunk back over to the bench. “No skin off my nose.” He sat back down, leaned against the wall and pulled his hat down over his eyes without another word.
“Well!” Elizabeth flounced her skirts as if that could dislodge the dirty feeling she’d gotten in her dealings with Mr. Nelson. She had to get out of here. Now. Elizabeth picked up her carpet bag with both hands and tried to hold it as far from her clothing as possible.
“Good day to you, sheriff.” She turned and gave shudder when she felt her carpet bag connect with her knee. She didn’t dare look down to see what might be smeared on her skirt. Instead, she walked out of the building as quickly as she could without running. She didn’t stop until she was on the far side of the train station where no one from town could see her.
Her body shook as she leaned her back against the wall and dropped her bag at her side. Elizabeth’s knees gave out and she gave a little cry as she slid down the wall. The pain from her backside hitting the floor was no worse than the pain from her wounded pride.
The only other time she could remember feeling this angry and helpless at the same time was when the railroad told her she was no longer needed. Her station job had been given to a man coming back from the war. They had expected her to be cleared out of her company owned house the next day.
But at least then, it had been righteous anger. Now, she was more angry at herself for not thinking things through logically like she normally would. She’d jumped at the first opportunity to get out of Lowell without weighing the consequences. And look where it had gotten her. Alone in the middle of nowhere with very little cash.
CHAPTER FOUR
After staring at the sky for who knows how long and willing herself not to cry, Elizabeth stood up, brushed her skirts off as best she could, dragged the bottom of her carpetbag on the wooden planks of the platform to scrape off the worst of what might be on the bag and walked into the station.
“I’d like to send a telegram,” she said to the freckle-faced adolescent behind the counter.
“Um, sure, ma’am.” He patted his pockets and shifted papers around on the desk next to him. “If I could just find my pencil…”
Elizabeth tapped her finger on the counter to pull his attention back from his searching. He stopped and looked up.
She pointed and said, “Behind your ear.”
He gave a lopsided smile and retrieved the writing utensil. However, he went back to searching. She presumed this time for paper.
Finally, she could stand it no longer. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Elizabeth stepped around the counter, took off her right glove and began proficiently tapping out a Morse Code message on the telegraph machine. The boy gaped at her. She stepped back around the counter and placed seven cents on top of it. “This is the standard rate for the message I sent. Please let me know when my response comes in.”
She was putting her
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