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A Safe Haven for Beth

By Karen Carr

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SAFE HAVEN FOR BETH
Boston in the year of our Lord 1876

Thaddeus was injured, and his mother knew it. She could tell by the look on his face, and she felt the shudder of his pain when she put her arm across his shoulder. He didn’t want her to see because he was afraid of what she would do when she found out. Then she would be in danger of being hurt too.
Elizabeth made him sit down while she gently removed his jacket. He closed his eyes as she softly touched the moist spots on the back of his shirt. He heard her gasp when she beheld the bloody gashes on his back made by his grandfather’s whip.
“How did this happen?”
“It was my fault,” he replied. “I stopped my work in the barn and was napping. Grandfather says laziness is of the devil. I shouldn’t have done it.”
His mother rinsed the ugly wounds on his back and gently smoothed on an ointment that relieved the throbbing pain. He felt better, but he was still fearful of what his mother might do.
“You won’t tell him that you know what happened, will you?”
“No, son, I won’t say anything to him, but has this happened before?”
“Yes.” He hung his head. “I’ve disobeyed him before and he has used the whip.”
“Why haven’t you told me?”
“I didn’t want him to send you away like he said he would do,” he had replied. “I’m a man; I can take it.”
She hugged him then. “But a young man of sixteen should not have to take on such a burden alone.”
A few days later, his mother pulled aside Thaddeus and his younger sister, eleven-year-old Rebecca. She told them that after much prayer, she had made the decision that they must leave Grandfather’s home. They would have to be very secretive about it. They had to leave without his knowledge or he would take them away from her. For that reason, their younger brother, Nathaniel, would not be told of the plans. Nathaniel would never be able to keep such a secret even though he had just turned six.
It was difficult for them to go through their daily routines as though nothing had changed, as though they really weren’t planning to run away from this prison that their grandfather had made for them. But Thaddeus knew he could count on his mother to make it happen. He trusted her to get them to safety. He just wished they were already there, wherever safety might be.

CHAPTER ONE
Mustang Ridge, Wyoming Territory

Beth Eastman had a good feeling as she and her three children approached the small settlement of Mustang Ridge in the middle of the afternoon. Mustang Ridge was nestled between mountain peaks in the center of the Wyoming Territory. Beth pulled back a strand of blond hair which had been tugged lose by the wind and tucked it back into her bonnet. As she drove the covered wagon down the main thoroughfare of the western town, she scanned the few buildings on both sides of the street. The building fronts were clean and well-kept. Yes, she had a good feeling about this town.
Beth pulled up to the hitching rail just past the building with a sign over the door that read: Mustang Ridge Mercantile, Sam Garrison, Proprietor. “Thad, look at that letter again and double check to see if we are at the right place.”
Seventeen year old Thad rode his horse beside the wagon and pulled the letter from his pocket. Glancing at it, he said, “This says we need to talk to the Proprietor, Sam Garrison. We are here, Ma.”
Beth pushed the brake lever forward, wound the reins around the side of the seat, and climbed down. She turned and helped six year old Nate to the board sidewalk. Thad took the weight from under the wagon seat and fastened it to the lead horses to keep the three teams in place.
“We need to purchase some supplies,” Beth said. “We’ll start with the things we need the most and go from there.”
“Do you have a list, Ma?” Thad asked.
Her hand disappeared into the pocket in the folds of her skirt. She handed him a piece of brown wrapping paper on which she had written down the needed supplies.
Thad took the paper from his mother and said, “Come on, Nate. You come with me.” The two boys entered the mercantile to take care of the family purchases. Nate eagerly jumped up and down. Inwardly Beth smiled as she watched the two “men” in her little family. They are so grown up, she thought. Especially little Nate, who really was just acting grown up at age six, while Thad had matured beyond his years over the last few months. Beth’s inward smile faded as her thoughts dwelt on the cause for their flight to this small town in the Wyoming Territory.
When Beth’s husband, Jackson, was thrown from his horse and struck his head on a rock, he was killed instantly. She knew their Texas ranch, although not as large as other ranches in the area, would be a lot for her to handle by herself. She believed God was telling her to sell though it was the last thing she wanted to do. She really would have liked to keep the ranch where they had been so happy. And to be reminded of Jackson.
God provided a buyer with a very good offer, so she sold the ranch. With the proceeds from the sale, she felt pretty comfortable, but knew it wouldn’t last them forever, so she obtained work in the bank of a nearby town. She found a small home in town to rent and tucked the money away in her sewing basket, just in case. Little did Beth know how her job in the bank would lead to the worst year of their lives.
Carlyle Caruthers was a banker back in Boston, well-known, influential, and well-healed. Texas was one area in the west which had banks, and it was in his capacity as a banker that he happened upon the little Texas town and Beth’s particular bank. Discovering her name being the same as his own, he did some investigating and discovered that his late son had been her husband.
Before they knew what hit them, he had taken them back to his home in Boston, where he ruled their lives with an iron fist. Caruthers was an extremely cruel and domineering man. He made no effort to soften the blow when he informed Beth the children would live with him and if she wanted to be a part of their lives, she could live there too. But he would tolerate no interference from her regarding his care of her children. If she did, he would bring charges against her as an unfit mother and seek guardianship of her children. He had the wealth to back this up. Beth consented to his dictatorship, hoping her children would be in good hands. But when he began ruling their lives, not allowing the children to see their little friends, making them do grueling work on the estate, which was hard for adults let alone children, well, she quickly changed my mind.
The final straw came the day when Thad confessed that his grandfather had taken a whip to him because he caught him napping in the barn instead of mucking out the horse stalls. Further questioning revealed it was not the first time it had happened. Beth was appalled. Why on earth had Thad not told her about these occurrences? Thad admitted he kept it from mother because he was afraid of what his grandfather might do to her. That he might send her away and she would never see her children again, nor they their mother.
If only her husband, Jackson, had not been killed when his horse threw him and he struck his head on a rock. If only she hadn’t been forced to sell their Texas cattle ranch. If only Jackson’s father had not learned of their location and forced them to come back to Boston to live with him. If only she had stood up to her father-in-law and refused to let him take the children. If only.

Beth shook herself to be rid of the gloomy thoughts. Enough of this. I can’t dwell on that now. Aloud she said, “Come, Becca.” She helped eleven-year old Becca out of the back of the wagon. Becca removed her dusty bonnet and hand-brushed her long hair, which was the same color as her mother’s golden blond hair. She let her bonnet hang by its ribbon and together they entered the store.
The interior of the mercantile had a wondrous smell. The pleasant aroma of dried herbs hanging in bunches from the rafters permeated the air within. Beth inhaled deeply and the memories tumbled back, memories of herbs grown on their ranch, tumbled in. Memories of Jackson helping her sow the seed and dig the plants.
She loved everything about herbs, from growing them to cooking with them, not to mention the delightful aroma they provided in her kitchen where she hung the herbs to dry.
When they left the ranch to move into town, it had been hard for her to leave the herb patch. She had brought cuttings and transplanted them at their house in town, but those plants were left behind when Carlyle Caruthers carted Beth and her family off to his Boston home. But she was thankful that tucked away in one of her bags were seeds she had saved from the original patch. She hoped someday soon she would be able to plant them at their new home.
“Mama, are you all right?” Becca inquired.
“What? Oh, oh yes. Guess I was just woolgathering,” Beth answered. “I was recalling the herbs your father and I had planted.”
Becca clasped her mother’s hand. “Love you, Mama.”
“Me too.”
Beth paid for the supplies Thad had placed on the counter. As the clerk behind the counter handed Beth her change, she took a deep breath, thinking, direct my words, dear Father.
“Are you Sam Garrison?” she inquired.
“No, Mr. Garrison is in his office. I’m George. Can I help you with something?”
“I’m Mrs. Jack Eastman. We’re answering his ad for a stagecoach station operator,” Beth informed him.
“Wait just a moment and I will ask if he can see you now.”
When George returned he directed her, “He can see you now. I’ll take you to him. Follow me please.”
“Thank you.” Beth trailed George to the back of the store with her children following her.
“Mr. Garrison,” he said poking his head into the room. “This lady would like to speak to you.”
“I’m Sam Garrison,” said the man behind the desk. As he rose, he reached over the desk to shake her hand. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Mrs. Jack Eastman,” she said. “You should have received a telegram from my husband regarding the opening for the stagecoach station manager.”
They could not afford to have the same thing happen with Caruthers again. Beth had sent the telegram in Jack Eastman’s name after Thad discovered a flier in Fort Kearny when their wagon train had stopped there.
“Ah, yes, yes,” Garrison acknowledged looking behind her.
“Oh,” Beth said. “These are my -- our children, Thad, Becca, and Nate.”
“And where is Mr. Eastman,” he asked.
“Well, that’s the thing. Jack wasn’t able to finish the trip with us. Something unexpected came up, but he will get here as soon as he can. In the meantime, I - he hoped we could go ahead and make any necessary arrangements.”
“Well, this is a bit unusual. The first stage will come through in a little over a week,” he mused. “I don’t have anyone else interested. How long before he would be able to get here?”
“Oh, it might be as much as three weeks. I hope it won’t be a problem.”
“I see. Well, as I said, I did like Mr. Eastman’s experience, and we are running out of time. Have a seat and we’ll fill out the necessary papers.”
Stepping to the office door, he called out, “George, get a couple more chairs for the rest of the family, would you?”
“Right away, sir,” replied George.
“Now then, Mrs. Eastman, let’s talk business details here. This position involves the signing of a contract later, but we would like to have the station operator on the job for a couple of months first, just to make sure it works for everyone involved. On kind of a trial basis, so to speak. That will work well for the stage line since Mr. Eastman…”
“Jack,” Beth supplied.
“What, oh yes. Since Jack is not here today to sign any papers anyway, I’ll just have you sign a temporary contract. However, I do have a concern about handling the horses. It takes a strong man to change out the teams. ”
Thad spoke up for the first time. “I may be young, but my dad taught me about horses on our ranch. How far away is the station, Mr. Garrison?” Thad attempted to steer the subject away from handling of the horses.
“It’s about a half hour northeast of town,” Mr. Garrison answered him. “I guess we can give it a try. We’ll have you and your family settled right away, though Deer Creek Ranch has been empty for some time.”
“It’s a ranch then?” Beth inquired.
“Yes. As agent for this division, I have made the necessary arrangements to rent the empty ranch to be used for stagecoach services. The stage company has contracted several ranch owners along what will be the Deadwood to Cheyenne route to provide services to the stagecoaches. Hunton’s Ranch, Rawhide Ranch, Coffee Siding, Square 3 Bar, and 10 Bar Ranch are a few of them.”
The agent removed some papers from his desk. “This is a temporary contract for the resident of Deer Creek Ranch. That, of course, will be you and your husband. In lieu of your husband’s signature, we can accept your signature for the two months.” He handed Beth a pen. Beth dipped the pen in the ink and placed her signature at the bottom of the document.
Mr. Garrison pulled his watch from his vest watch pocket. “It’s too late to take you to the ranch today, but you can stay in town tonight and someone will take you out there in the morning. It will need some cleaning before you can stay there, so you will need several hours of daylight for such work.”
Beth looked at her children. She couldn’t very well tell him they had planned to camp out on the trail overnight. But how would they find the ranch without someone to show them the way? She had not seen a hotel as they came into town, and she didn’t want to spend the money anyway.
Mr. Garrison added. “I’m afraid there is no hotel in town. Just rooms over the saloon which would not be appropriate for a family. In fact, why don’t you and your children come and stay with my wife and me for the night. My Martha always wants an excuse to entertain people and she doesn’t get much opportunity way out here. She’ll love to have you.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Beth insisted.
“Not a problem. We were just about to close here, so let me lock up my office, and I can lead you there. George can finish closing the store.”
As Beth and her family left the mercantile, she collided with a man walking on the board sidewalk.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“That’s quite all right, ma’am,” he said doffing his hat.
As she looked from his cowboy boots to his hat, her eyes were drawn to the sheriff’s star on his vest. She gasped and grabbed a hold of the railing. She found it hard to breathe.
It appeared the lawman was about to say something else but Beth, having regained her composure, hustled her children down the sidewalk. “Come children. To the wagon,” she said hurriedly, noting that Thad had placed the supplies in the wagon and waited to help her up.
They boarded the wagon and waited for Garrison so they could follow him to his home. Beth looked back over her shoulder and saw the lawman turn into the mercantile. She drew a jagged breath of relief.
Sam Garrison soon exited the mercantile and mounted his horse tied up at the hitch in front. He came alongside their wagon and motioned for them to follow him around the corner. Looking ahead Beth saw that the Garrison home was nestled at the end of the street surrounded by the most beautiful flower bed she had seen for a long time.

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