“All aboard!” the conductor had yelled as the train roared to life, steam pouring onto the platform.
“I promise to write with news when Thomas agrees to the marriage,” Rosaline had said through tears.
“But not too soon, okay?”
Rosaline had nodded before boarding the train heading west out of Wilmington.
The train whistled and rolled to a stop, drawing Rosaline from her thoughts.
“Final stop, Baxton Kansas!” The conductor yelled down the aisles.
Rosaline’s heart beat at a pace she couldn’t control, the magnitude of the decision she had made finally catching up with her.
What if this is a big mistake? What if I get to the ranch and Thomas immediately throws me out? Where will I go? Certainly not back to Mr. And Mrs. Voss.
Her mind raced with all the possibilities, her hands sweating as she clutched the handle of her valise held tightly on her lap.
“Last stop, ma’am,” the conductor said as he poked his blue-capped head into the compartment before moving on.
“Lord be with me,” she prayed as she stood and gathered her courage to alight from the train.
At last she stepped off the train, onto the platform in Baxton Kansas, and into a new life. Her eyes darted through the throng of passengers moving through the steam. She didn’t even know what Arthur or Thomas Stratton looked like. The platform was crowded, making it hard for her to see as she strained and stood on her toes to look over the heads of the alighting passengers.
All she could see was a simple brick building that presumably served as the ticket office. Baxton station was definitely smaller than the one in Wilmington.
“Sorry, ma’am.” A passing man apologized and tipped his hat after bumping into her.
“Excuse me, I’m looking...” But he was already gone.
She looked around and saw an elderly gentleman staring intently at her from a bench, his intent gaze making her blush and shift her valise from one hand to the other.
He stood after a few seconds and made his way over to her.
“Rosaline Berry,” he said rather than asked.
“Ye... yes, that’s me,” she stammered. His confidence in who she was throwing her off.
He held out his hand. “Arthur Stratton.”
Up close, Rosaline could see the kindness from his letters reflected in his dark brown eyes. His warm voice and kindly smile set her at ease. She shook his rough hand and peered over his shoulder.
“It’s just me,” he said apologetically.
Rosaline’s heart fell but she quickly covered it up with a smile. She had been hoping on the train that Thomas would accept the news and come with his father, signaling that he would be open to this marriage of convenience his father had brokered.
“We can catch up on the way.” He took her valise and lead the way out of the station.
***
Rosaline observed the town of Baxton from atop her seat on the one horse-drawn buckboard. It was a sleepy little town if ever there was one.
Much smaller than Wilmington, the houses were small and scattered between the other buildings, simple and quaint. It was a town built for convenience rather than architectural beauty.
One mercantile store, a bank, a schoolhouse, a jail, a one ward hospital, and a saloon with a giant sign depicting the three pistols it was named after. The Three-Guns Saloon.
This must be where Thomas spends his nights gambling and drinking, she thought as they passed the wooden buildings of the town.
Children were playing and various people were going about their daily routines as they passed, hanging up washing, buying groceries, or selling their goods.
