Westward Bound (Closed for Perplexia)

[Knightofsloth707]

Henry Wilcott stood at his hotel window, unconsciously rotating his hands around the brim of the hat he held in front of him.

Outside the bustling streets of Independence, Missouri rang with the din of wagons, shopkeepers haggling with customers, and townfolk trying to go about their business amidst the flood of newcomers.

Today might be the day she arrived.

He had placed the ad on the insistence of a friend, but had never expected anything to come of it.

A widower, aged 31, with the means to provide for a family,
wishes to make the acquaintance of a lady with a view toward matrimony.

To his surprise a few weeks later a letter arrived. They had corresponded briefly. Henry, already a man of few words, was further unsure of what to say in this instance, and elected to stick purely to the business at hand in his letters.

He needed a wife. She needed a husband. Would she join him in Oregon, where they could make a life? The answer had arrived a month ago: Yes.

Henry had come to Independence early and made all the preparations. The wagons and supplies were all in hand. All that remained was to wait for his new bride. She was to meet him at this hotel upon her arrival.

As he had done every day for the last week, Henry went down into the dining area of the hotel and sat. As agreed, he had placed a yellow dandelion in the band of his hat, which he left visible on the table next to him.

He ran his hand through his blonde hair, and then along his bearded cheek, as he often did when in thought. His index finger brushed against the long scar on his right cheek.

Only two years ago he had been Lieutenant Wilcott. After the war, Henry languished on half pay for the better part of a year before resigning his commission. All he had left now of his time in the army were the pitiful savings he'd accrued and the scar - left to him courtesy of a Mexican cavalry saber.

Henry was impatient, restless. Oregon was the chance for a fresh start. To leave behind the memories of Janie, and those short happy domestic days they'd had before she was swept off by yellow fever.

Every day here felt like time in purgatory, but still, he waited.

 

[Perplexia]

Hannah O'Leary age 20 Ireland. It wasn’t a hard to decision to go abroad for a husband and a new life. The life she had up until now hadn’t been anything to hang on to. Her choices in life were limited. Her mother had passed on when she was around the age of ten. Her childhood went out the door with it. She was her mother and fathers only child. That was till he remarried the church cow, whose own children from her previous marriage could do no wrong.

The first sign of her being jealous of the adoration her father had for her, was when she cut Hannah’s long thick red hair off making her look like a lice infestation victim. She wasn’t as hateful when her father was around. But as he worked long days in the mines, she was left taking care of the women's children as well as ensuring the house was clean.

Since her father jack slapped her for cutting her hair when she was 11, the women didn’t touch it again, just yelled and threw things. She was 19 when the mine caved in, and took him from her. The church cow wanted to send her to the work house to pay for her fathers debt, Hannah had told her exactly what she thought and how she felt about that idea.

Hannah had sought sanctuary at the church, it was there they showed her the ad for a wife needed from this man Henry. He seemed decent enough, apparently they were going to head to Oregon to live. After some rather short letters of exchange, meaning his letters were rather short to the point. Could she cook, yes, could she clean, yes, could she manage a house, yes, could she do laundry yes. Would she be okay with moving to Oregon? Yes , not an issue.

He didn’t ask her anything about herself, other than had she been previously married with or without children. It was a common understanding in this time, that single women did not partake in sexual relations with men unless they worked in a brothel. Was she raised going to church?, she answered yes. As she was currently staying in the church, and with her family she had attended, because it was what was done. But as for her own personal beliefs she hadn’t much use for religion.

With that he asked for her hand, she accepted, and off to Missouri to meet Henry the man with the yellow dandelion in the band of his hat. The ship was long and tedious, but she managed to stay away from the ill and come into New York, where she got the train out west to Independence, Missouri. She had her best dress on a blue with white lace, and a hat that matched one of the ladies from church had made her. Other than that, she brought her clothes, and a couple trinkets and a necklace her parents had given her.

She stepped into the Inn, her long red hair was tied behind her with a blue ribbon, her ample bosom pressed firmly against the confines of her dress, and her worn shoes. Then she saw the hat. “Are you Henry Wilcott?” she asked with her thick Irish Accent. I’m Hannah O’Leary” Her green eyes met his as she held out her hand to shake his.