Chapter Three
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“… and so, I ’ ve come to you for help. Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe, please, I ’ m desperate … I need you to tell me what I can do.” CeeCee hated the words as she uttered them, but she really was desperate and could think of nothing else to do but seek this woman ’ s help.
The woman bobbed her head while she shook her dark hand as if she were about to toss down dice at the craps table, something clunked inside her cupped fist, then she dropped what she held. Small bones fell to the dirt floor. Strange characters were etched into the bones. She stared at them for a moment. Slowly, she lifted her head and spoke in a heavy Cajun accent, “ If it is to avoid your second cousin ’ s grand ideas of marriage, vous seek, I suggest vous marry outside of la Pointe Coupee Parish .”
“ Of course.” CeeCee responded. “ I mean, I travel a lot, I meet a lot of men, but-but how can I ensure I am safe now, before I can get back to the east coast? Sonny is really determined!” CeeCee considered her next words very carefully. She glanced down at the bones on the floor. “ Can ’ t you… put a hex on him or something? … to make him lose his desire for me?”
The old woman frowned, then a smile exposed her toothless gums. She looked back at the bones, flicked one off of another, and lifted her head. “ Vous come to moi , et Je will help, but vous are going to have to trust moi .”
“ I know you will help, this is why I have come to you,” CeeCee pleaded. “ I do, Mademoiselle, I trust you.” CeeCee nodded her head vigorously.
The matchmaker stood to her full height, which was six inches shorter than CeeCee when she, too, stood.
CeeCee smiled at the woman ’ s display of superiority.
“ Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe receives letters from good men who need a good woman to help them build a life… out west.”
“ Out west?” CeeCee swallowed hard. “ I ’ ve never been out west.”
“ Non ,” she spoke slowly, purposefully. “ Vous have traveled east and performed your God-given talents in New York and Pennsylvania.” Her voice turned dreamy, as if she were enamored with the whole idea of traveling and performing on the east coast. “ But West is where vous will be safe. It was too far away for the War to taint the mind of men. Many who were once our enemy seek that same refuge West provides.” Her old watery eyes dropped to the bones again. “ But!” She held up a finger. “ Vous do not need to leave to get away. Leaving is not vous answer.”
“ It ’ s not? But… if I stay here, Sonny Bergeron will force me…” She reconsidered her thinking. If Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe said not to leave to get away from Sonny, she had another solution. What on earth could it be? Was she going to put some sort of hex on him after all?
“ What should I do?” CeeCee asked. The feeling of hopelessness creeping into her heart.
“ Vous should let Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe arrange a marriage. V ous will stand before a judge and a Godly man and say vous I dos, then sign a paper with the deux witnesses and be married here, before vous travel to there, to meet vous husband.”
“ What?” CeeCee stepped back from the matchmaker. “ You-you want me to marry a man I have not met? By… proxy? ”
“ It is the only way to ensure this determined cousin of yours can no longer lay his claim on you and force you to marry him. How can he, if you are already a married woman?” Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe held her hands palms up and shrugged her boney shoulders.
CeeCee ’ s jaw hung loose. “ I-I can ’ t, I couldn ’ t, I—”
The matchmaker closed her eyes. “ Did moi not say vous would have to trust Mademoiselle?
“ Oui .” CeeCee nodded. “ Vous did say that. But—”
“ No buts.” The woman held up a long, thin finger and frowned. “ It is the only way. If vous should simply leave to go marry as, uh, how you say, mail-order bride, Monsieur Bergeron will come after you. This is the only way to frustrate his plans.”
CeeCee stared at the woman. Letting her words settle in her mind. Was this the only way to protect herself from Sonny ’ s vile plan? She couldn ’ t imagine agreeing to marry a man she had never met, nor had ever seen, not once, in person. She didn ’ t even have a photograph of the man.
Mademoiselle hinted the men in Oregon were Yankees who gave up their Union ways to move out west. She had no idea who Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe wanted her to marry until she traveled out west to meet him. Would he be like the rogue soldiers who had attacked her aunt ’ s home? Her stomach clinched tighter than she could stand. A cramp took hold and she bent at the waist.
“ Owww!” She cried out in pain.
The old woman lifted a kettle from a hook over the fireplace and pinched some dried herbs that hung above the hearth between her fingers, letting the leaves fall into a teacup, she poured steaming hot water over the leaves. Swishing the contents of the cup around several times, she handed it to CeeCee. “ Here, drink this.”
CeeCee hesitated. Cautiously, she took the cup and sipped at the light brown liquid. It had a sweetness to it she couldn ’ t identify. Although it was very hot, she sipped more, feeling the knots in her tummy unravel as a calmness washed over her. Handing the cup back to the woman, CeeCee smiled.
“ Thank you. That helped.”
“ Of course it did.” The woman said. “ Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe wishes you no harm.”
CeeCee fixed her gaze on the dark, coffee-skinned woman. “ Non , why would vous ? ”
“ Why, indeed.” Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe smiled wisely.
CeeCee swallowed. “ All right. But could I at least know my husband ’ s name? ”
The woman ’ s large lips curled into a joyful smile. “ Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe will tell you all that she knows about your new husband.” She turned her back on CeeCee and shuffled through a box of papers. They looked as though they had been unfolded after being received in the mail and pressed down into the box from which she now sorted. “ Ah, this is the one.”
She turned with one of them in her hand. “ This is the man you are destined to marry. His name is Damien Alexander Burnett. He has settled in a town called Silverpines, Oregon. And would like to have a woman with a creative mind who can fill his life with beauty and happiness. Est perfect for vous .” She handed CeeCee the letter.
“ How do you— ? ” CeeCee began but stopped. She knew better than to ask anything else. She stared at the neat script of the handwriting. It was not a man ’ s handwriting, but a woman ’ s. It was signed, Mrs. William S. Carter, Silverpines, Oregon. Was she too a matchmaker, like Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe?
The words indicated he was a good man. But would that be enough? What did she mean by beauty and happiness? CeeCee considered herself as pleasant enough to look at, but beauty? She probably fell short of that description. Happiness was relative. Could she make a perfect stranger happy? It all depended on what, exactly, made him happy.
She had to trust Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe. Her second cousin would never give up tormenting her until he had nothing to torment her about. Being married would definitely stop him. She would just have to pray the man she married would not be as bad or worse than her cousin.
Moving out west could be an adventure, she tried to tell herself. Sadness settled in her heart. She assumed she would no longer be able to tour and play concertos, but neither would she be able to do so if Sonny married her. So this solution seemed the least of bad choices. At least, that was what Mademoiselle L ’ Rusoe had said. She trusted the old matchmaker more than she trusted Sunny.
That was God ’ s honest truth. Would it be enough?
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Silverpines , Oregon
Sunday, November 10, 1878
“ Do you, Damien Alexander Burnett, vow to take C è dez Marie Kalstone …” Pastor Thomas quickly got to the marrying part since there were no congregants, with the exception of Widow Carter who sat on one of the pews halfway back in the sanctuary. Damien could hear her sniffle once in a while. Was she this emotional at all of her matches’ weddings? Up at the altar were Damien as the groom, the pastor, Judge Riley, a witness, and the stand-in bride who would also bear witness.
Damien thought, what a lovely name, C è dez Marie. She must be French. But wasn ’ t Louisiana settled by the French people after the Lewis and Clark expedition? She might only be ancestor to the true French people from France. He ’ d always wanted to travel overseas to see the ancient countries.
“…to have and to hold from this day forward,”
That ’ s right! Today will be our wedding anniversary. What was the date anyway? It ’ s Sunday… but November… what? Why can ’ t I remember? Damien puzzled.
“…for better, for worse,”
Lord spare me from the worse!
“…for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,”
Can I cherish this woman? If she ’ s hideous or awful, can I truly love her? He thought.
“…until death do you part. You may agree by saying ‘ I do. ’” The pastor concluded the vow.
Damien stared at Pastor Thomas. Could he vow to all these things? What would he do if when his woman showed up she was hideous? Not just in appearance but personality? Marriage was a forever thing and there would be no backing out. Although Widow Carter had sworn and guaranteed he would be happy with his bride, or the widow would give him his matchmaking fees back in full. He ’ d be out the money for her train ticket, food expenses, and then… a train ticket back to Louisiana. Like a really expensive but short courtship and his savings completely depleted.
Her name was lovely. Lyrical even. It was a French musical term meaning to yield or slow the tempo of the music. Could it be a reflection of her personality? Did she yield easily, rather than being headstrong and overbearing? Or were her parents musicians? Was that why they named her a musical term?
“ Uh, I-I do,” Damien answered. He could not keep the hesitation from his voice. The woman who stood next to him was twice his age. Sweet as an apple, but she wasn ’ t his actual bride. The pastor ’ s wife agreed to stand in for his bride and speak from her telegram declaring she was willing to marry him. It felt so… odd.
“ Do you, Damien—”
“ Now, hold up, Thomas!” His wife interrupted. She looked down at a yellow paper with blue lines and white strips glued to it. “ Miss Kalstone has something to say.”
“ How could—” Damien glared at the pastor ’ s wife.
She tilted her head and lifted an eyebrow that said she meant business and the men should stop talking to let her speak.
Mrs. Thomas cleared her throat and began to read from the telegram. “ I, C è dez Marie Kalstone, being of sound mind, do hereby agree to marry Damien Alexander Burnett by Proxy. Furthermore, I promise to have and to hold from this day forward, being Saturday, November 9, 1878, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health. I vow to love, honor, and obey within reason, and to cherish until death do we part. I do vow these things to the best of my ability.
“ Signed, C è dez Marie Kalstone,
“ Point Coupee Parish, Louisiana
“ Signed and witnessed by Clerk Pierre Bacque,
“ Point Coupee Parish, Louisiana”
Mrs. Thomas looked up at Damien with a smile and a tear in her eye. “ It cost this woman a lot of money to have these words conveyed on this telegram, and I felt it was important she be heard here today.”
Pastor Thomas nodded in a well-practiced and patient way, that Damien assumed was from the thirty plus years they had been married.
A slight smile curled on one side of Damien ’ s mouth. His bride was feisty, but meticulous for accuracy. She obviously had money or would not have been able to send such a wordy telegram. Somehow, he sensed all this about her personality from the cable. Perhaps she would not be so hideous after all. Could he, in his wildest stretch of the imagination, hope for a woman who— he didn ’ t dare think it… the disappointment would be too hard to bear. No expectations was the better approach, then what ever he learned of his new bride would be a nice surprise. But he really hoped she had a love for music.
“ Do you Damien Alexander Burnett…” The pastor ’ s words jerked Damien out of his inner thoughts.
“…take this woman, C è dez Marie Kalstone, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Was this the right thing to do? Marry by Proxy and hope for the best? It took a lot of strength, courage, and fortitude to exist in Silverpines, a growing mining and lumber town along the Columbia River. Women who were dainty and tender didn ’ t last long. Most of them had a headstone commemorating they tried and failed out here. Damien didn ’ t want such a thing to happen to a woman he had invited out west. He just wasn ’ t sure he could live with himself if that should happen. Some women who did survive the harsh winters and hard life here lost their lives bringing new life into the world.
Would C è dez be strong enough to withstand every harsh possibility waiting to take her life?
“ I, uh, I do.” Damien uttered.
Pastor Thomas glared at Damien for a moment, but then went back into his final words to conclude this ceremony. “ By the powers vested in me, by the church of Silverpines, and the state of Oregon, I now pronounce you Man and Wife.”
Pastor Thomas turned to his wife, took another piece of paper from her, and laid it on his podium where he signed it quickly as the clergy who officiated the ceremony. Mrs. Thomas stepped in his place and signed it as a witness, then handed the pen to the second witness. Judge Riley signed it, then passed the pen to Damien. He stared at the line indicated for the groom. If he didn ’ t sign now, after all the things he had vowed, would the marriage be null and void?
The telegraph that Mrs. Thomas had read came to his mind. It wasn ’ t her voice, but it was her words, and they sparked a sensation in Damien ’ s chest. Could this be the beginning of the feeling he should be experiencing for his wife? With his hand poised over the ink well, he dipped it quickly, wiped off the excess, and put the point to the paper. Ink began to run out of the pen and be absorbed in the paper. Quickly, he scribbled his name. And the date. November 10…
But wait. Her telegram said, November 9. Did that make a difference? Which would be their wedding anniversary?
“ I, uh, I ’ m not sure what date to put,” he said but with the question implied.
Pastor Thomas stepped over to him, leaned into the the document. “ It ’ s a Proxy Wedding. The two dates do not have to coincide. Put today ’ s date, as the rest of us have.” He patted Damien on the back.
Damien nodded, but still it didn ’ t seem right. He wrote November 10, as instructed, but decided he would discuss it with Miss Kalstone when she arrived to determine which date she preferred to celebrate their anniversary on. Was there anything wrong with having two dates for their celebration? Again, he would ask his bride what she preferred.
The Judge folded the document, with the telegram inside the folds and put it inside his Sunday suit pocket. Damien assumed he would file it tomorrow when he returned to work. Would that make their wedding anniversary November 11 th ? This was confusing.
“ So. ” Damien rushed after the judge and the pastor as they scurried off to do whatever they did after services on Sundays. They both turned weary eyes toward him. “ What happens now? Do I wire her the money to come to Silverpines?”
Pastor Thomas approached Damien with a loud belly laugh and slapped him on the back of his shoulder. “ I ’ d say so, son. This wedding isn ’ t completely official until you sign one more affidavit declaring the marriage has been consummated.”
Damien gulped. He hadn ’ t really thought that would be required with such immediacy. “ I see. All right. I ’ ll go to the telegraph office now and get the money sent to her today.”
Pastor and the judge bobbed their heads in agreement and left the church. Mrs. Thomas walked behind them, and Damien followed close behind her. He left the church and walked straight to the train depot which actually was only five miles of track. Many investors came to Silverpines promising to complete the rail line, but none had so far. The man in the little building had the schedule for all of the railway trains and the costs. It was a very lonely job. He slept most of the time, but whenever someone approached his window, he generally would talk their ear plum off. But at least Damien would know how much to send C è dez. The Postmaster and telegraph office sat across the dirt road.
So he went to the depot first. “ How much for a train from…” She hadn ’ t indicated a town. “ From Pointe Coupee Parish, Louisiana to Silverpines?”
“ Where?” The little man held his hand behind his ear. Was he going deaf too?
“ I said, Pointe Coupee Parish, Louisiana!” Damien said louder.
“ Oh, hmm. Let me see. Never been to Louisiana. I hear it ’ s a lot of fun before Ash Wednesday,” He cackled a laugh. Picking up different schedules and adjusting his wire rimmed spectacles, he scanned them, then picked up a map and scanned it. “ Oh, here it is. You ’ d need…”
The man wrote down the trains ’ identifications and other transportation by which she would need to get to Silverpines, and the amount for each. He shoved it through the opening at the bottom of the glass window.
“ Thank you so much.” Damien took the slip of paper.
“ Say, you sending for a bride?” The man smiled, exposing three missing teeth.
“ Yes sir, I am.” Damien said quickly and took a step back.
The man slipped his thumbs under his suspenders and leaned back. “ I always thought about gettin ’ me a mail-order bride.” He giggled. “ But just never got around to it. I suppose I ’ m too old now.”
“ Uh, yeah… right… I wouldn ’ t know… I suppose.” Damien turned and rushed away. He felt horrible for not staying to talk, but he felt like time was important and he needed to get the right amount of money sent to his bride as soon as he could.
For the first time since he arrived a year ago, he wished the railways were completed and direct, so that his bride did not have to endure all the different trains across country, then north through California to Oregon by stagecoach, and last a river boat… but it was better than almost a year traveling by wagon train, like so many people, including himself who traveled from Missouri, had done to settle here. It would be a minimum of two weeks before she would disembark at the river port. Which was actually just a docking port where the ferry took people across the river to head north into the Washington Territory.
Two weeks… he ’ d meet his bride in two weeks. Would she be everything he hoped? Or would she be hideous?