Page 2 of Chloe's Christmas Escape
The marshal scoffed. “Miss, they don’t teach us how to hide young women when we become deputized.” His eyes flashed over her head to her father once more and she stomped her foot, not wanting to be dismissed so easily.
“How would we do it?” Da asked instead, his hand settling heavily on her shoulder. They had decided she was leaving. They probably weren’t going to allow her to explain her disappearance, either.
The two men had determined her fate, forcing her to marry a stranger and move to a distant city she knew nothing about. Despite her protests, they refused to change their decision, leaving her feeling helpless and confused. On one hand, she felt obligated to follow their wishes, yet she was terrified of the unknown future that awaited her.
“I’ll send my nephew a wire, so that he doesn’t leave before we get there. Stage leaves first thing in the morning, and we should be on it.” The marshal picked his hat up from the desk and placed it on his head.
“You’re going with me?” Chloe’s eyes widened.Didn’t he need to stay here to deal with the troublemakers?
“I am. The deputies will hold down the fort here. It’s the least I can do for your family.”
Something inside of her settled. It appeared the marshal had a plan. She might not like it, but he wasn’t just throwing her to the wolves, and she wasn’t going to have to walk beside a wagon for thousands of miles in the cold.
“Thank you, Mac.” Da put his hand on Chloe’s back and moved her around the desk. Reaching out, he shook the marshal’s hand. “Chloe will be ready in the morning.”
Masters nodded, shaking her Da’s hand and tipping his hat at her. “Miss Kingston, I understand this is not what you expected. Just know we will always prioritize your safety.” He turned on his heel and headed towards the door.
A thought struck her, and her mouth was moving before it had fully settled in her mind. “Marshal. What’s his name?”
Marshal Masters turned back, his hand on the doorknob. “Who’s name?”
She laughed then, for the first time all day, at the wariness in his eyes.Did he think she was asking after the dead man?“Your nephew. What is his name?”
Her da let out a bark of laughter, and the marshal’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Jackson Masters.”
She nodded, and the lawman let himself out the door. The snick of it clicking back into place, echoing in the silence left behind.
“Come then, there is much to be done.” Her da slid his arms into his coat and then shook his head sharply. “First, we go home. You are soaking wet and now so am I.”
She slid her feet into her leather slippers that were completely drenched next to the door, and grimaced as the cold leather wrapped around her toes. After Da closed his office, she entwined her fingers with his and they walked the short distance back to their home. The imp inside Chloe came forward, and she had one more question. Giving her da a wide grin, her blue-gray eyes sparkling for the first time in the last several hours, the words popped out when he turned back to her.
“So, who’s telling Mama?”
Chicago, Illinois
Jackson Masters looked at the wire in his hands. He couldn’t imagine why his uncle was commanding he stay in Chicago or what could motivate the man to leave Pittsburgh, but the words were plain on the page.
Do NOT head out. Arriving in 8 days. Mac
He’d expected to be reading a different message as the young messenger boy approached his boarding house. He’d taken out an ad for a wife in the marriage papers a month ago and had only received one response. It was from a widow in Fairfax, Virginia with eleven small children. Jackson, at twenty-eight, wasn’t ready to become an instant father-of-eleven. The idea of living with such a large family in such close quarters was overwhelming.
As a sharp pain reverberated through his leg, Jackson flinched. This was something he was still managing after all these months. A lead ball had become logged in the fleshy part of his thigh at the battle of Appomattox, and he hadn’t realized it for several hours. He knew the doctors were pro-amputation and Jackson wasn’t about to lose his leg. Hiding on the far side of the battlefield, he used his belt as a tourniquet and dug the bullet out with a knife before passing out.
Before a doctor could do the unthinkable, a Native woman found him and provided care for his wound with herbal remedies and steam baths. He was fortunate. For two months she tended to him, carefully cleaning the terrible wound on his leg, dressing it with fresh herbs and torn leaves every few hours.
After he healed enough to walk on his own, he left and headed towards home. His heart lifted as he moved away from the ravages of war, but the pain was still unbearable, so he stopped in Chicago and ended up in the hospital. The doctor wanted to use bloodletting treatments and morphine.
Jackson would rather deal with the pain through more natural methods. He had seen enough blood, and he couldn’t risk becoming addicted to something.
Fortunately, the doctor found the care provided impressive and was confident that his leg would fully heal. The pain, however, would always be there. A constant reminder of the war and other unpleasant things. The doctor gave Jackson a small bottle of laudanum and told him to apply warm compresses to relax the muscles.
Jackson shook his leg slightly. The pain was not subsiding, and he wished he could ease the discomfort. Now the weather was getting colder and damp. He got up and down at all hours of the night. The pain was becoming too much to ignore, and he didn’t like the way the laudanum made his head foggy. He knew he needed a helpmate, hence placing the advertisement. A helpmate could take care of things when his leg wasn’t cooperating.
Every evening and again in the morning, he prayed that the good Lord would find him a match who wouldn’t judge because of his past or leave him because of the scarring on his leg…and his heart.
The longer he waited for a response, the more disheartened he became.
