CHAPTER III

"You don’t have to do this Jessie," Fran said as she struggled to keep pace.

"Oh, good, Fran," Jessie shot back without slowing. "I was so worried I was forced into this decision I’ve made."

Jessie wasn’t a particularly tall woman but her stride was long and fast even when she had nowhere to go but this was not one of those times. Even carrying her large traveling bag she was able to make her unburdened sister fight to stay with her.

"Don’t give me that attitude, Jessica. You’ve got too much to lose over this foolish dream."

Jessie clenched her jaw but said nothing. She kept her course, thick heeled boots clomping on the hard dirt walkways. She knew her sister would hate her decision which is why she’d kept it from her until the night before she was to leave.

"It was quaint," Fran continued, "even charming at times listening to you go on about this seamstress thing-"

That finally stopped Jessie and she spun on Fran.

"Fashion designer, Fran. I’ve been correcting you since we were children. I’m going, Fran. You don’t have to support me, just get out of my way."

Jessie yanked the traveling bag by its straps and slung it on her shoulder then turned and resumed her walk down the street. Fran threw her hands up, frustrated.

"Fine, fashion designer. Does it really matter if you’re throwing away everything you have here?"

"What exactly do I have here, Fran?"

"David Applegate for one."

"Oh, please. That’s always been a creation of Mother’s and Father’s."

"I don’t understand why you’ve always been resistant. I know he isn’t the best looking young man in St. Louis but he’s handsome enough, well mannered and kind. He’s on a path to take over the law firm when his father retires."

"He is a nice enough boy but I’m not all that interested in spending the better part of my life tending to an empty home and hosting boring parties with stuffy men, Fran. I know that’s a shock to you because you dream of that existence."

"Why do you say empty home? Don’t tell me you’re planning on going through life not settling down and having children... raising a family."

Jessie pauses in her stride and looked at Fran.

"What about children?"

"Well, that’s what women do Jessie. We get married and have children and raise them to be good young men who get married to fine women and marry our daughters to the kind of boys we’d have been proud to raise ourselves."

Tension seemed to drain from Jessie. A brief smile flicked across her face and she smoothed her dress carefully, looking at her reflection in a shop window.

"Yes, well..."

Then she was off again.

"I just know my place, Jessie," Fran said. She propelled herself harder to keep from falling behind. "Will you just slow down? I’m going to bundle over right into the dirt racing at this speed."

Jessie stopped and smiled at her sister.

"That’s because your boots were designed by a man. Your dress was designed by a man. Everything you’re wearing was probably designed by a man."

"So you’re going to rush off to San Francisco and change all that?"

"Yes." She jerked up her bag again and started walking, but not as fast this time. Fran was able to stay with her without as much effort.

"Look, I understand that you want to do something exciting. You’ve always been the one to take chances and jump at a dare but we’re not girls in the school yard anymore, Jessie. We have a role to play in this world and I think it’s high time you get that pretty little head out of your storybook world and realize that you’ve got a better path than most women."

"I’m on my path," Jessie said. "I love you and I know you’ve always intended the best for me the way you thought you were protecting me but I can’t stay here and tromp on down a life that is written all out for me. I’m going and there isn’t anything you or anybody else can do."

She stopped and set her bag down. Fran stood beside her and they both looked at the stagecoach. There it finally sat, six horses strapped in and waiting. Two men, one short and chubby the other tall and lanky, walked around the coach inspecting it. A young, almost baby faced man, not more than twenty was loading chests and traveling bags onto the coach.

Leaning against the back was tall, slightly tanned man with dark shaggy hair and perhaps a week’s worth of stubble. His hat was tilted just enough to keep the morning sun from his eyes but not enough to hide them. He looked up and saw the two women standing at the corner of the station house. He smiled just a bit and nodded the brim of his hat in greeting.

Jessie made a quick wave in return and smiled. Fran looked from the man to her sister and back to the man.

"Oh, Jessica," she said, shaking her head. "Now I really must put my foot down. You’re the only woman surrounded by a bunch of dusty men. The only good looking one still needs a shave and good scrubbing."

"I saw him first," Jessie replied.

"You’re putting your safety into the hands of... oh, now wait a minute," Fran said, as Jessie’s comment sunk in. "I was just making a comment. Compared to the rest of these men and that boy over there-"

Jessie laughed.

"You do work yourself over nothing, sister dear," Jessie said.

The kid walked up to the ladies, shuffling shyly.

"Excuse me, ladies," he stuttered. "Are you, uh, you’re here for the eight o’clock?"

"Final destination, Los Angeles?" Jessie asked.

"Yes, ma’am," he answered. "I can load your bag."

"Los Angeles," Fran blurted. "I thought you were going to San Francisco."

"I am," Jessie replied the turned to the kid. "Please do load my bag." She looked back to her sister. "There isn’t a direct line to San Francisco so I have to go to Los Angeles first."

Two men walked out of the station, talking. Both were in expensive looking suits and bowler hats and both had mustaches but that’s where the similarities ended. One was very thick through the waist, the other thin. Not skinny and stretched long like the man inspecting the coach but thin.

"I hope I don’t have to sit next to that fat man," Jessie said.

A small buggy pulled by a large black horse rushed up and skidded to a stop kicking dust in its wake. A blonde man in shirt and vest jumped from the seat of the buggy and grabbed a large chest from the back.

"You, boy," he yelled. "Help me with this chest and let’s get it on this wagon."

The lanky man stopped his inspection and stomped over to the new comer.

"This here coach is mine and I say what gets loaded."

The blonde man smiled and stuck his hand out to shake the other man’s.

"Robert Colton, and I’m here for the eight o’clock. It goes all the way to Los Angeles but I’m getting off at Tucson." He reached into a pocket in his vest and pulled out his ticket. The lanky man looked at it and nodded.

"Okay, then," he said. "Longley, get this chest loaded. Mr. Colton, please have a seat. We’re not quite ready to board." He indicated some benches at the front of the station house then he went back to the coach inspection.

For the first time Jessie noticed the man sitting on one of the benches. He was leaned back, hat covering his face, feet crossed at the ankles all stretched out.

"This just gets worse, Jessie," Fran fretted. "A woman by herself amongst a pack of men?"

"Yes, Fran," Jessie replied. "I’m sure the coach line thinks that news of women being ravaged while traveling with them is good for business."

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," the lanky man said, raising his voice. "My name is Bud Bridges and I’m the coach conductor. Our driver is Frank Wilson and it will be our honor to have you as our passengers to your final destination on the St. Louis to Los Angeles line, wherever that may be."

Jessie quickly hugged Fran.

"I’ll write as soon as I arrive."

"You really mustn’t do this," Fran implored but Jessie was already walking away to stand with the other passengers as they gathered around Bridges. Fran’s eyes grew wide with terror and her breathing became ragged. She looked at the doors to the station house and finally made a decision.

"Now before I take your tickets and get on our way I’ve got a few rules for riding that I need to cover. Abstinence from liquor is requested, but if you must drink share the bottle. We do have a lady present so gentlemen are urged to forego smoking cigars and pipes as the odor of same is repugnant to the gentler sex. Chewing tobacco is permitted, but spit with the wind, not against it. Likewise, gentlemen must refrain from the use of rough language. Don’t snore loudly while sleeping or use your fellow passenger’s shoulder for a pillow. Firearms may be kept on your person for use in emergencies. Do not fire them for pleasure or shoot at wild animals as the sound riles the horses. In the event of runaway horses remain calm. Leaping from the coach in panic will leave you injured, at the mercy of the elements, hostile Indians and hungry coyotes. Forbidden topics of conversation are: stagecoach robberies and Indian uprisings. Gents guilty of unchivalrous behavior toward lady passengers will be put off the stage. It’s a long walk back. Are there any questions?"

Nobody said anything.

"Alright then," Bridges said. "Ladies first."

He stepped to the coach, opened the door and held his hand out. Jessie approached and handed him her ticket then grabbed his hand and lifted her dress to make stepping easier. Once inside she settled on her seat and waited while Bridges took the other passengers’ tickets. He didn’t assist any of them getting in but when the fat man scrambled up the coach shifted suddenly and he seemed to teeter. Just when Jessie thought he was going to topple over backwards Robert Colton grabbed his arm and Bridges shoved from behind, launching him into the middle bench.

All the men crowded on the two benches facing Jessie. She couldn’t tell if that was to avoid a possible offense or mere coincidence. Either way it was awkward facing them and she could tell they felt the same. Luckily there were windows on both sides so everybody had an easy diversion for their eyes.

Jessie looked out the window beside her as well and began to wonder what the big city was like. San Francisco seemed like living on the moon for all she could imagine. She’d seen photographs and illustrations but she knew those could be deceiving. Then again, if it was even half of what she’d seen it would be a far cry from St. Louis. St. Louis was a bustling center of commerce but being smack in the middle of the country it wasn’t as diverse a place like San Francisco. That’s what she’d come to believe from all she’d read.

She turned back and saw all the men looking at her again. Or rather suddenly looking away from her again. This was no way to spend the next two weeks.

She cleared her throat, making all their heads jerk back to her.

"I figure if we’re going to be spending some time together we should at least have each other’s names. I’m Jessie Lintrel. You’ll have to pardon me but I overheard you say your name was Robert Colton, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma’am," he said. "It is."

"Call me Jessie please. And you are..." She looked at the fat man.

"William Bentley. But you can call me Bill."

"Very nice to meet you, Bill." She looked at the man sitting next to Bill Bentley, the other man in the expensive suit.

"Roger Maynard, ma’am. I mean Jessie."

"Very good."

She looked at the last nameless man. He looked at her dully, then leaned against the wall of the coach and covered his face with his hat.

"Dave Coe," he said from beneath it.

She shrugged and smiled at the other men.

"Excuse me, sir," she heard her sister yell from outside.

Jessie’s heart pounded furiously. Had Fran gone to get Father? Why couldn’t she just leave things alone? It had been like that their whole life. Fran would step in just as Jessie was settling in to something fun or exciting and drag her away or tattle on her to Father or Mother. Then she’d be crammed back in her little box of female servitude. How had she been able to get Father here so fast anyway? Had she told him last night and he was in waiting? Was Fran trying to talk her out of going and if it worked it would seem that she changed her mind instead of being forced into staying?

The door of the coach swung open and Jessie balled her fists, prepared to fight like a man. There was no way she was going quietly...

Fran was helped into the coach by Bridges and she took a seat next to her sister.

"You have no bags, ma’am," Bridges asked.

"I’ll borrow something from my sister until we get to the next town where I can purchase clothes."

Jessie looked at Fran for a moment, unable to register what was happening.

"Okay, then," Bridges said. "We’ll be off."

The coach rocked as the crew climbed aboard and then Wilson cracked the whips and they lurched forward.

Fran looked to Jessie.

"I couldn’t let you go by yourself. You think you know what you’re doing but you still need somebody to look after you. You can’t even cook."

A smile broke across Jessie’s face. Fran frowned at her.

"You’re not surprised?"

"I’m very surprised, Fran," Jessie said. "Frankly I didn’t think you had it in you to do something so daring."

"I have a grit of my own."

"Good," Jessie said. "It’s about time you had an adventure. Maybe now you’ll understand why I’m doing this."

"I doubt I’ll ever understand you," Fran shot back.

Jessie turned to the men.

"Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce my sister Fran."

Next Chapter: Chapter IV