Rejected Bride Read online

  On reflection, the pretty gowns hadn’t been for her benefit as she had always thought, it was another way of Viola flaunting her wealth and pretending to be a caring woman who was looking after a poor relative. How could she have been so foolish as to believe this woman had any fondness for her. She cared for no-one except herself, and what were a few gowns to her when she got an unpaid servant to cater to her every whim?

  Carefully she lifted the gown out. It was still inside the linen carrying bag. The matching bonnet was in a large hat box. The dressmaker wasn’t too far away, she would have to walk there to save money.

  Blinking back tears, she readied herself to leave. Pay the hotel first, she thought as they would be quite within their rights to set the law on to her if she didn’t.

  Chapter Three

  Carrying the wedding gown, the hat box and her reticule Jemma made her way to Mrs. Winspear-Jones, whose small exclusive shop ‘Wedding Gowns of Distinction’ catered for only the elite of New Orleans. The price of her creations was outrageous to Jemma’s way of thinking, but any woman of social standing wanted to be dressed by her. Viola had insisted they come here. “I will not have you dressed in a manner unbecoming a lady. What would my friends think? I have position to uphold in New Orleans society.”

  The shop bell tinkled as Jemma pushed the door open and stepped inside. “My dear, Miss Holbrook, what are you doing here?” Mrs. Winspear-Jones smiled from behind a small intricately carved counter. Four burgundy velvet chairs were positioned along one wall, a heavy lace curtain covered the changing room area. Small, intimate and expensive for the genteel ladies who patronized this place.

  “How is dear Viola?”

  “She’s well. Um.” There was no point procrastinating, better to get this over and done with Jemma thought. “My wedding has been called off, and I was wondering whether you would take the gown back and refund the money we paid.”

  Mrs. Winspear-Jones pursed her lips. “Certainly not. That gown was designed exclusively for you.”

  “Please, I need the money. I know it was expensive, and I don’t expect you to give me the full amount back.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly as she stared down her nose at Jemma. “I will give you five dollars for it, including the bonnet.”

  “What! I know Viola paid a lot more for it than that.”

  “That’s all it’s worth to me. I will have trouble finding a woman who would fit into it.”

  What a barefaced lie, the dress could easily be altered, even with her limited knowledge of dressmaking Jemma knew this.

  “Take it or leave it,” the woman snapped.

  Jemma wanted to walk out with the gown but knew of no-one else she could sell it to. Time was not on her side. “Couldn’t you give me just a little more?” She hated having to plead yet her situation was too desperate not to.

  “No. Take it or leave it.”

  She had no choice. Trembling like a leaf she handed over the dress and bonnet and received the money. Deliberately she stood and counted it out in front of the woman before shoving it into her reticule. It was a small act of defiance all she could think of on the spur of the moment. Without a word she walked out of the shop with her head held high and headed toward the hotel.

  On passing a small bakery, she decided to stop for a coffee and a pastry. She couldn’t afford to pay for food at the Centurion. Maybe she could buy a loaf of bread as well. It would be something to eat later this evening also breakfast in the morning.

  “What can I do for you, Ma’am?” The man who served her was tall and spoke with a Texan accent.

  “I would like a coffee and one of those cream pastries please, also one of those long rolls, thank you.”

  “It’s called a baguette,” he said with a grin. “Easy to see you’re not a local.”

  “You aren’t either by the accent.”

  “I’m from Texas Ma’am.”

  “I thought so.” She smiled at him. “I spent the first sixteen years of my life there. Could you possibly spread some butter on the baguette for me so I can take it with me?”

  “Supper tonight?”

  “Yes, I’m staying the night at a hotel and their food is expensive.”

  “Ah, I understand.”

  She wondered whether he really did.

  Jemma sat at a table in the far corner of the shop preferring the seclusion rather than sitting outside with people bustling past. Happy people without a care in the world. Just like me before I was betrayed, she thought trying to clamp down on her bitterness.

  She had to work out a plan of action. Leaving New Orleans was the top priority after paying the Centurion Hotel. She gnawed her lip. How much did a rail ticket to Austin cost? How could she pay for accommodation in Austin?

  “Here we are.” The man brought over the coffee and the pasty she had ordered.

  “Thank you.”

  “A pleasure, Ma’am. You look mighty worried if you don’t mind my saying so.” He sat down at the table. “Why don’t you tell me your troubles? I probably wouldn’t be able to help, but I’m a sympathetic ear and a fellow Texan.”

  “Well…” She hesitated.

  “I’ve got the time.” He grinned. “It’s quiet here as you can see.”

  Why not tell him? He might have some advice to offer. She didn’t like telling strangers her private business, even if she was never going to see him again.

  Slowly, haltingly at first, she told him what had happened.

  He whistled between his teeth when she finished the sorry saga. “Dang, that’s despicable. I don’t blame you for wanting to get away.”

  Using one fingertip Jemma rubbed a wayward tear off her cheek. “I don’t suppose you would know how much a train ticket to Austin would cost?”

  “No, I don’t. A pity you’re a gal otherwise you could do what I did to get here from Texas.”

  “What was that?” She took a sip of coffee.

  “I jumped a freight train in the middle of the night.”

  “I’ve heard of men doing that. My father used to do it before he married my mother. Maybe I could try it.”

  He glanced at her dress. “You couldn’t, not wearing that pretty gown, anyway, it wouldn’t be safe for a gal alone, even if you were agile enough to board. Don’t you know anyone in New Orleans who could help you?”

  “No, I hardly know a soul.” Had Viola deliberately kept her from meeting people other than her friends? Thinking on it now she probably had to make her easier to exploit.

  “Excuse me.” He shot to his feet. “A customer. I’ll butter the baguette for you. Stay here as long as you like, we don’t close until four.”

  “Thank you.”

  The pasty was as sickly and gooey as she had hope it would be. Eating with enjoyment she wondered how she could jump on a freight train. Once she would easily have done it should the need have arisen. “Why not now?” a little voice inside her head whispered.

  What if she dressed as a boy? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done it before. Prior to going to Viola’s place, she spent most of her time in male attire, as did her mother. No wonder people had thought the family strange. Always on the move, living out of a wagon most of the time. Doing men’s chores. It was the cheapest, easiest and most convenience way to dress. Of course, she had worn her hair short in those days.

  Ma used to cut her hair every couple of months with a pair of rusty scissors. Viola had been mortified on seeing her for the first time.

  After the customer left, the man returned with the baguette wrapped in brown paper. “Here you are. It’s on the house, the coffee and pastry also.”

  “Oh, thank you, but I couldn’t accept.”

  “Yes, you can. Look on it as a Texan giving a helping hand to a fellow Texan.”

  “All right, if you put it that way, thank you.”

  “Good luck.” He waved his hand before stepping away.

  A freight train, dare she? It would
save quite a lot of her meager supply of money. If she could buy male clothing and push her hair up under a hat, she could get away with the disguise as her womanly curves were not too pronounced.

  Maybe she could sell the clothes she was wearing. A pretty pale pink dress with lace and frills would be useless. If she could buy a six-gun and a bedroll, canteen and some food it would be enough to keep her going until she got to Austin and tried to find Louise.

  It was the best idea she could come up with. If worst came to worst, she could find a barn somewhere close to Austin and sleep there rather than spend money on a hotel room. The more she thought about the idea the better it seemed.

  She would go back to the hotel and pay the account first. This would give her a better idea of how much she had to spend to set herself up for the journey to Austin.

  Standing to brush a few crumbs off her dress, she adjusted her bonnet and stepped over to the Texan who was wiping down his bread racks.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find cheap male clothing, would you?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Um.”

  “Your idea about jumping a freight train is good, but I would need to look like a boy.”

  “That’s mighty risky, Ma’am.”

  “Well, staying around New Orleans is much worse. I’d need a rifle or a six-gun to protect myself with, a bedroll and canteen as well.”

  “There’s a shop over in…. Well, look out the window. See that tall chimney stack? There’s a man who buys and sells almost anything. He’d be able to fit you out, if you’ve got your heart set on such a risky venture.”

  “I have to do it. I’ve got no choice.”

  “Okay, you’ll have to board the train while it’s dark. Get one of the end carriages, easier to sneak on and off. Try and get one that’s covered in. There’s an early morning passenger train, which usually has a couple of freight wagons as well. They’re behind the guard’s van so they can be shunted off outside Austin at the freight depot.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled at him. Thank goodness she had found her way to the bakery owned by this helpful Texan.

  “There’s a train leaves here about five in the morning, that’s the one I’d go for that. Good luck and be careful.”

  She left the shop and feeling happy with her decision, walked toward the hotel. I’ll go and pay what I owe tonight, she thought. Then I can sneak off in the morning while it’s still dark. Thankfully, she had seen the tall chimney stack from the hotel window and should be able to find it.

  Chapter Four

  On reaching the hotel, Jemma dashed upstairs as she didn’t want to be caught taking food into her room. They wanted guests to eat in their overpriced dining room. Thankfully, she had only eaten breakfast here once. She placed the baguette, a fancy French name for a long bread stick to her way of thinking, in the closet. At least she would have something to eat tonight.

  Making her way downstairs, Jemma entered the lobby and crossed over to speak to the women at the desk. “I’ll be leaving here tomorrow morning early so I thought I might as well pay for last night and tonight. I won’t be requiring supper tonight as I’ll be eating with friends.” She hated herself for the glib lies coming out of her mouth. As a rule, she detested liars, but this was a fight for survival. “I won’t require breakfast in the morning, either.”

  The woman pursed her lips while giving her a hard, penetrating stare. Without speaking she opened the hotel’s ledger. “Altogether you owe us three dollars and fifty cents.”

  “That much?” In her wildest dreams Jemma wouldn’t have thought the place would be so expensive. There was no choice, she had to pay what the woman asked otherwise they might call in the law. Rupert had been cunning enough to put everything in her name. How could she have been foolish enough to believe his honeyed lies?

  With trembling hands, she handed over the money and watched the woman write ‘paid’ beside her name. The ledger was slammed shut with such force she jumped.

  She’d had a lucky escape from Rupert. Her head told her this yet her poor, broken heart didn’t want to agree. Her nightgown, camisole and a change of drawers had been left in her room, along with a hairbrush and handkerchief. Everything else she would sell including the carpetbag.

  How she envied all the happy, laughing people in the street. Pain stabbed into her chest until she almost doubled over with the agony. A couple of days ago she had been like them. Now despair and anxiety weighed her down.

  Focusing her eyes on the chimney stack she set forth. The closer she got to it the seedier the area became. Thankfully, it wasn’t near the docks. All these pockets of poverty in a thriving place like New Orleans filled her with anger, because rich folk were not prepared to share some of their wealth.

  The shop was quite large and crammed with a mixture of second hand and new clothing. There were saddles, bedrolls, canteens and everything else one would need on the trail.

  “Can I help you, Ma’am?” a hawk nosed man asked.

  “Yes, I’m going on a riding trip, so I need the appropriate gear.”

  “Saddle?”

  “No, no, clothing. Boys clothing. My brother said it would be easier for me to dress that way.”

  He gave her a speculative look. “Would that be new or second hand? Or maybe you could browse around and see if something catches your eye. I do have ex-army bedrolls, they come with an extra blanket, too. New but selling cheap.”

  “Could you show me please?” Jemma was doing mental calculations in her head.

  “That’s a nice carpet bag you’re carrying,” he said, staring at it with slightly narrowed assessing eyes. “Do you want to sell it?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Look, Mister, I’ll be honest with you I’ve fallen on hard times that’s why I agree to go on this trip with my brother. He has a spare horse and saddle, but I have to provide everything else I need.” She didn’t know whether he believed her or not, although it did sound quite plausible.

  “Pick out what you need and pile it on the counter, then we can work out a deal. You wouldn’t be interested in selling that pink dress you’re wearing? My daughter has a birthday in a few days, and it would fit her perfectly. She loves pink, too. There’s a room behind the curtain where you can change.”

  “All right, I’ll sell it to you.

  “Good, I’ll leave you to look around, I’ve got some bookwork to do while it’s quiet. Yell out when you’re ready.”

  If she could sell the dress, the carpet bag and the bonnet for a reasonable price, things wouldn’t be too bad. The army bedroll had a carry strap around it which would come in handy. The stuff could be stolen, but she wasn’t in any position to quibble over it. A hat, a pair of boy’s pants, two shirts, a vest and boots. She debated about buying a duster to wear, but decided as it was summer, she probably wouldn’t need it. I’ll keep it as a maybe, if I don’t spend too much on everything else. A canteen, a six gun which she could wear stuck in her belt, bullets and a hunting knife just in case. A few sticks of beef jerky and a couple of cans of beans.

  The larger the pile grew the more worried she became. A small towel, but no soap. She couldn’t afford the luxury.

  “I think I’ve got everything I need. Your daughter might like the matching bonnet and reticule and these pretty shoes as well.”

  “You are in a bad way.” A flicker of pity crossed his face.

  “Yes, I am.” If only he knew just how desperate she was.

  “A kerchief,” he said, “you might need that.” He picked up a blue one and handed it over.

  Ten minutes later Jemma walked out of the shop dressed in her new clothes, for all intents and purposes a youth. The gun was stuck in her belt and hidden under the loose vest. The man had given her a canvas bag to carry the food, towel and knife in.

  It felt strange to be wearing boots instead of dainty slippers or shoes. She had a couple of dollars left. The man had been more generous than the bridal gown
dressmaker. That woman had been hard as nail. He at least had a bit of compassion. He hadn’t asked what happened to her or what her plans were, which suited her just fine.

  On arrival at the Centurion Hotel, she took off the hat so that her hair would fall free and be visible to the woman behind the desk. She wouldn’t recognize the clothing but would know the hair and maybe not ask too many questions.

  For once, lady luck shone on her as no-one was in the lobby. She made a dash for her room, unlocked the door and scurried inside. All she had to do now was wait for a while, eat some of the bread stick, then try to sleep for a few hours.

  Kicking off her boots, she stayed in her clothes and stretched out on top of the quilt to go over her plans and make sure she hadn’t overlooked anything. The hardest part by her reckoning was catching the freight train without getting caught. After that all she had to do was hide until she reached Austin.

  If she failed to contact her old friend Louise, she wasn’t sure what her plans would be. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

  ***

  As dawn broke, streaking the sky with ribbons of pink and grey, Jemma decided it was time to make a move. Without turning on the lamp she put on her vest and hat, picked up the canvas bag and her bedroll and cautiously opened the door of her room. No-one was about, the hotel being as silent as a tomb. She closed the door gently and locked it before making her way downstairs.

  At the back of the lobby desk was a wooden board with gold hooks and she hung up her key. Taking a quick look around, she waited until the elderly guard passed by before slipping out the side door and into the street.

  Not a soul could be seen, not a sound broke the stillness. She sprinted across the street, turned left and was soon at the railway station.

  As New Orleans was at the beginning of the line there was no risk of jumping on board the wrong train. Activity on the station had her hiding behind one of the buildings. The train was already at the platform – she could see by the light thrown out from a couple of lamps. Men were loading coal up near the front of the engine, while another couple of men loaded food, obviously destined for the dining car.