I wrote for a few hours to be able to post this chapter as I have no idea when I will be able to write the next one. There is a hurricane a'comin' and I have preparations to make. Also, I'm pretty certain I'll lose cable and power. Forgive any errors/typos as I wrote quickly and attempted to change anything that the program identified as incorrect. And I hope that when I get back to this story, you will continue to read. Thanks.
The Dark Bride
When Adam opened the front door and stepped into the house, he saw her shoulders barely above the back of the settee. She wore a prim black bonnet. Slowly, she shifted sideways to see Adam and if it was possible for her to turn any paler than her already milky complexion, she would have. But as Adam stepped further into the room, she stood, and then clasped her gloved hands primly in front of her. Ben came around Adam after closing the door.
"This is my son, Adam. It was he who wrote you." Ben stood awkwardly as Adam and the woman stood looking at one another..
"I have come a way to meet you, Mr. Cartwright." The woman bowed her head slightly.
Adam nodded in reply, not quite sure what to make of "Mary David".
"I have this… to return to you." The young woman, for young she was, looking even younger than Adam expected, opened her reticule and pulled out a pouch made of a handkerchief. It's four corners had been tied together to form a packet of sorts. She stepped closer to Adam who still hadn't fully entered the room, and extended her hand. "It is the money left from the purchase of my train fare; you sent me more than it cost. I want to return the unspent amount."
Adam looked at the small packet of coins and for some reason, it moved him. The handkerchief was of inexpensive muslin, a coarse oatmeal color, and it was just a small pouch containing coins – the weight of them was obvious.
"No," he said. "You keep the money. If things aren't to your liking, you have the money to leave and go back home."
"If things aren't to your liking," she clarified, "if I am not to your liking, I will certainly leave, but I will not return from whence I came. I will never return there." She raised the packet of coins again. "Please take your money. I will not keep it."
Father and son looked to one another and the visitor caught the glance. She had expected a lonely, older man and was both pleased and relieved when the older, gray-haired man with the kind, gentle, dark eyes, took her hand and invited her into the fine house, saying, yes, he was Mr. Cartwright. She had been so overwhelmed by gratitude, so happy that he was kind, that she had kissed his hand in appreciation. But this younger man before her, this man with the dark looks, the intense gaze – she wasn't sure if she wanted him for a husband. Mary decided that his hand, she would not have kissed as he would have reacted differently from his father; this man may have laughed in derision at her gesture.
Adam took the money, and with one hand holding the packet, he unfolded the ends and emptied the handkerchief on the table behind the settee which also held the Cartwright family Bible. The coins clanked heavily onto the wooden table top and Adam quickly surmised it was about $150.00. There, side by side, was the material aspects of the world and the spiritual.
"Here," he handed the handkerchief back to Mary. She nodded and folded it neatly and replaced it inside her reticule. Adam watched her small, hands as they deftly moved and then she looked up at him. She was more than merely pretty, he decided, she was a beauty, although not the golden bride he had hoped for, not the one to shine like a sun. Her face was pale, a small widow's peak making it seem heart-shaped. Her mouth was small but full. But what took Adam's attention were her large, dark eyes. They seemed to bore into him with their intensity of expression, lined with dark, sooty, lashes and black brows above them, jarring against her paleness. She met his eyes almost unblinking.
"Please, sit down," Adam said. Mary did and Adam quickly tossed his hat onto the chest by the door and undid his gun belt.
"I'll go take care of your horse," Ben said. The situation was awkward and he wanted to leave them alone.
Mary sat with her hands folded, still wearing her bonnet, a small, worn carpetbag at her feet. "Won't you take off your hat?" Adam asked. "And, you can stay here for the night. There's no one to talk, to gossip. The ranch hands are on a trail drive. No one will think it's scandalous and trust me, you'll be left unmolested as I have no interest in you and I'm sure my father doesn't either."
"Thank you for your hospitality." She wasn't insulted by the fact neither man found her desirable. She untied the bonnet ribbons and took it off, smoothing her dark hair that was pulled into a modest chignon, with her hands, then pulled off her gloves. She offered a smile – a small one, but the smile touched Adam's heart.
"Then you will stay for dinner and the night. In the morning, we can talk."
"I would prefer to settle this now; I do not want to stay only to be turned out in the morning. I have come to be married. All I ask in a husband, as I wrote, is kindness. I am willing to work hard, keep house, tend animals, and bear children. I make no demands except that I be clothed and fed and…treated kindly. As for being loved, I find love is not important in a marriage as few people remain in that state. Better to be able to live and tolerate a spouse than claim affection that disappears like the morning fog." Mary, finished, sat silently waiting.
"In the morning," Adam began, "things may look different. Tomorrow, I'll take you out on the property, let you see what this country is like. It may not fit your temperament – and I may not either. We both deserve to spend some time together before we decide to spend the rest of our lives … apart."
"Perhaps you're correct, Mr. Cartwright. There is an oft-quoted saying in my country, 'If you go to war, pray once, if you go on a sea journey, pray twice, but pray three times if you are to be married.' For some it is considered the most dangerous journey. Perhaps we should take a few days to decide either way."
Dinner was a solemn affair as no matter how much Ben and Adam tried to involve Mary David in conversation, she was loath to talk and said little about herself. To the question of how long she had been in the country, she answered that it had been since she was a young girl and left it at that. Adam said, in a manner of conversation that "Mary" didn't seem like a Russian name – and she was Russian, correct? In her longest sentence yet, she replied her name was actually Marina but since she had arrived in America, she had been called Mary.
Adam looked to his father who raised his brows in question.
"If you would prefer, we, that is my father and I, will call you Marina."
"Marina - Mary, whatever is easier for your tongue."
Ben smiled; Adam had found himself an agreeable wife – who was disagreeable at the same time. It amused him to see Adam unsettled.
Marina ate very little no matter how much Hop Sing hovered about in hopes the guest would eat more, waiting for a compliment on his cooking. But with one hand on the napkin in her lap, Marina attempted to be accommodating. Adam noticed that although calm on the outside, there was turmoil beneath her pale looks. And the more he looked at Marina, admired the shape of her face, the elegant way her jawline flowed into her round neck, he decided that she grew more beautiful before his eyes – almost as if he was being bewitched - and he sensed the beginning of desire build. The thought of going upstairs with this woman every night of his life appealed to him. With crystal clarity, Adam realized how much he wanted a wife and wanted Marina to be that wife. And that night, as he lay in his bed unable to sleep, Adam softly repeated her name and it took on a poetic essence. Marina. It was like the sigh of a contented man.
After a breakfast served by a glum, muttering Hop Sing, Adam took Marina out in the buggy. He would glance over at her and smile when he saw her eyes wide with wonder.
"All of this is your family's?"
"Yes."
"I would be a wealthy woman should you marry me." She eyed him warily.
Adam laughed. "Yes, you would be."
"And how did your family come by such great wealth? Have you killed people so you could have so much?"
"A few - but we didn't steal the land, if that's what you're implying. There were those who would take it from us – and many tried – and some we had to kill. It's never preferable but sometimes it's the only way."
They rode in silence for a few moments. Then Marina spoke. "I have heard much about Indians. Did they own this land before you?"
"I suppose you could say that."
"And you stole it from them? Killed them?" Marina turned and met Adam's eyes.
"Yes, we did. All this land out west, actually this whole country was taken from the Indians, so in a manner, I suppose, yes, we did kill them for it and stole it from them." Adam waited; he had no idea from her face, what Marina was thinking.
"The wealthy people in Russia, the 'aristokratiya,' they took the land from the people, enslaving the Russian poor, making them, as is said in English, serfs – 'krepostnoy' – slaves to work the land for their masters for only a sack of potatoes, a bit of pork and a few cabbages. If the family took more than allowed, stole some extra grain for bread because the children were starving, they were beaten. Who works your land for you?"
"We do, my brothers, my father and I."
"Does he beat you if you don't work hard enough?"
Adam half-smiled. "No. And as for laborers, we hire lumberjacks, miners and ranch hands to help with the cattle. They're given a fair wage. We don't have slaves or serfs or what was the word? Krepostnoy." Marina nodded but said nothing. "When did you leave Russia, Marina? When did you come to this country?"
"It is of no consequence when; I am here now." Marina looked away at the surrounding countryside.
Her dismissive answer annoyed Adam; he was more accustomed to receiving quick answers to his questions. Without warning, Adam snapped the horse's reins. The horse, startled, jerked forward, and Marina was thrown off-balance. But she didn't call out in surprise, chastise him, or lean into Adam for support – Marina just gripped the side of the buggy and held on. Nor did she angrily ask if he was trying to toss her out of the buggy as many women would have. Marina's self-reliance, her acceptance of whatever happens, gave Adam pause. He didn't know what to make of the beautiful, foreign-born woman sitting beside him; she was an enigma.
That evening, Adam took Marina onto the porch. The moon was partially hidden behind clouds and the stars shone through in the breaks of the coverage. But in the porchlight, Adam could see Marina's face and she seemed much younger than her 24 years.
"I am reminded of my childhood on nights like this," Marina said quietly. "Long ago, as a child, I had no thought or desire to live anywhere but on our small plot of land. Now I find myself as…the words are in the English Bible…a stranger in a strange land."
"The story of Moses and Zipporah. 'And she bare him a son'," Adam said from memory, " 'and he called his name Gershom, for he said, I have been a stranger in a strange land'."
Marina smiled gently. "You know your Bible well, about Moses and his son. I am glad you are a man of religion."
"I know my Bible because I had to memorize passages in school or have my palms smacked with a ruler. As for having religion, well…" Adam looked up at the sky. "I find it difficult to believe that our lives are run by some grand, omnipotent spirit in the heavens."
"Oh, but it is true," Marina said earnestly. "I prayed, said a novena to our beloved Holy Mother petitioning a kind man answer my advertisement and on the 9th day, I received your letter."
Marina's face seemed so pure, so innocent that Adam was moved. "Marina, I doubt I'm an answer to anyone's prayer but I've become a lonely man." Adam found that the words had come unheeded; he had never openly confessed to the yearning in his soul. "I want a wife – there aren't many available women in this area - but I resisted sending for a bride even though both my brothers did and found women - wives. They're both happy in their choices and their wives are as well."
"Or so they seem," Marina said. "Women endure many things. It is our lot in life."
"If you believe that, why come to me – a man you don't know? I could have been a … you had no idea what I was like and yet you came." Marina just looked at him and gave a slight shrug but her eyes glistened with unshed tears in the light.
Adam continued. "The idea of marrying a virtual stranger never seemed wise to me – maybe even dangerous. Nevertheless, I did send for one and you're here. I never expected a great beauty – after all, why would such a woman be available? Yet, you are a beautiful woman, Marina. But that isn't why I will take you as a wife – if you accept, that is. I want a woman to share my bed and to be here when I need…" He couldn't say that he often had need of comforting, of a woman's gentle hands and soft voice when his dreams were invaded by the horrors of the war, so he stopped.
"I'm not a violent man although I can be…ill-humored at times. If you can tolerate that, then we will get along well. It would be nice to have a woman, a wife, who loved me but that takes time – a courtship—and we don't have that luxury. Perhaps one day you will love me, if you find me deserving. So, Marina David, will you accept my offer of marriage?"
They sat in silence and then she looked up at Adam. "Yes, Mr. Cartwright, I will." The small, dark-haired woman dropped her eyes. "But you should know – and you may retract your offer with no unkind feelings on my part – that I do not come to you untouched." Then she raised her eyes again and looked at the man who might soon bed her. The sound of her heart's beating filled her ears as she waited for the words from his mouth.
"I'm not surprised - you were married. I mean 'David' isn't a Russian surname."
"No, I have never been married. My father's name was Davidov. Although my name is actually Marina, my parents called me Marishka – a name given in love – what you call, a nickname. When I came to this country, I was told by the sea captain who brought me, that I was no longer to be called Marina Davidova but from then on, I was only to be called Mary David. He spoke only little Russian but I understood."
Adam watched the eerie calm about her; it was as if none of it had touched her, having her identity changed, her name stripped from her. "There are many things that happen to a person that leave marks," Adam said, "scars that affect both our bodies and our minds. Sadly, it's a common thing and of really no matter to me as far as who you are, what your past is." Adam moved closer and put out his hands. She took them. "If marriage is what you desire, we'll be married day after tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes, Mr. Cartwright, that is not only acceptable but preferable. I would like to start my life here as soon as I can."
"To forget the old one?"
Marina waited, judging the man's meaning, his intent, as his face gave no hint at his heart. "I will try."
"You can begin by calling me Adam – not Mr. Cartwright."
"Yes, I will call you Adam – the first man's name."
"Yes, well…" Adam wanted to retort that by her own admission, he wasn't her "first man," but stifled the urge. His sardonic nature would need to be curbed.
That night, after Marina had gone to her room, Adam told his father that he had asked Marina to marry him and she had accepted.
"Adam, I don't know about this. She's…she's hiding something – I know it. And you're what? Almost fifteen years older?"
"I know she's keeping something from me, but it doesn't really matter. I've been a bachelor a long time, Pa, and I'm lonely."
"But you barely know her!" Ben saw Adam cock one eyebrow. "I know, I know, Joe married Bernice without knowing her long and then Hoss and Hennie, but, Adam…" Ben sighed and sat back, holding his pipe.
"And you left for New Orleans and came back with Joe's mother and she was 12 years younger than you," Adam parried.
"All right, Adam. Don't throw it in my face, but Marie's situation was different."
"That's just it, Pa," Adam said, standing up. "Every woman is different and while neither Bernice nor Hennie appeal to me, Marina does. We're going to be married day after tomorrow."
"I'm surprised it's not tomorrow - you're so determined to take a wife."
Adam was amused. "Tomorrow I have some business of my own in Carson City. I do want to ask you though … I'd like to give Marina my mother's ring, if you have no objection."
Ben was surprised; he had forgotten about the ring given to Adam so long ago. His mother hadn't been able to wear it the last few months of her pregnancy, her fingers had swollen so. And now, another woman would be wearing it. He wanted to forbid Adam from given this strange, foreign woman Elizabeth's ring, but knew he couldn't.
"Of course, Adam. That's why I gave it to you – for your wife one day. And I suppose that day has come."
Adam noticed the uneasiness on his father's face but thought about how pleased Marina would be with the engraved rose-gold band when he slipped it on her finger. He just hoped it would fit.
Adam left early, before dawn, just downing coffee and cold biscuits from the previous night's dinner. It was after dark when he returned and his father was still sitting up waiting for him as he always had.
"I'm glad you're home – I was getting concerned."
"Sorry to have worried you. Is Marina still here?" After taking a wrapped, narrow box out of his pocket, Adam pulled off his trail jacket, looking at the stairs.
"Of course, she's here. Where should she go?"
"No place, I suppose, but I…I considered she might think I was deserting her after being gone so long or she thought better and left." Adam picked up the box and held it up for his father to see. "Carson City didn't have what I wanted so I had to go to Genoa. Found it there."
"Found what?"
"A wedding gift for Marina. I want to give her something after we're married."
Ben sighed; he had hoped Adam had a change of heart about the wedding. "I'm sure she'll be happy with it." Ben didn't ask what it was and Adam didn't volunteer.
"I hope so. Now, I have to take a bath. It was a hot ride and a man can't stink like a horse's ass at his own wedding."
Ben nodded. He almost told Adam that Marina had bathed as well but he didn't want to raise the specter of the upcoming intimacy. And after Adam left, Ben recalled how Marina had looked sitting on the porch earlier that evening, combing out the dark, wet stands of her hair to urge them to dry. And through the open window, her voice drifted in as she sang a simple song in Russian. Ben had stood and watched her through the narrow window, the night beginning to fall. She was like a water princess in a fantastical story, combing out her hair and singing a siren's song to capture all men who heard. And Ben felt the old stirrings in his blood caused by a beautiful, desirable woman and he envied his eldest.
