The Dove House
Nebraska Territory 1874
The red stage coach bumped to a stop, Emma waited for the dust to settle before moving to the door. She waited longer, and when she was finally satisfied a gust of hot wind stirred littering the sky, the coach and her person in gritty dirt. The door flew open nearly causing the soul to jump from her body. She steadied her plum velvet bonnet and secured the taffeta ribbon beneath her chin.
“Thomas Schuster!” She leveled a glare at her grinning husband, her mouth puckered just right for a scolding. “There is no need to go whipping open carriage doors and frightening me half to death.” She pulled on her lilac gloves, buttoning the tiny pearl button.
“Yes, ma’am.” She looked from his sweating head, to his elegant brown suit all of it filmed in dust. He extended an eager hand inside.
“And for heaven’s sake what are you so giddy about? I have seen nothing of this country that requires a toothy grin. It’s all dust, grass and smelly cattle. And the stories of savage Indians have kept me awake for the past six months with worry for your safety.” She accepted his hand in alighting. When her feet met ground she had the urge to clamber back inside and curl into a ball all the way back to New York. If her ridiculous husband hadn’t read that atrocious article in the paper she would be in her lovely morning room taking her tea with her friends. Instead she was here, in some sort of desert in the West.
“That carriage ride was the longest, dirtiest, most harrowing experience of all my life and that includes the ship across the Atlantic. Why you are just lucky I wasn’t attacked and murdered by some rampaging tribe. You can be sure that I would have haunted you to your dying day had that happened. ”
“It’s called a stage not a carriage dear and I know you’re bully enough to handle any old Indians.” Thomas squeezed her shoulders, then offered his arm in escort. “Emma my dear, what do you think of Primrose?”
He swept his arm displaying the town of newly constructed saloons, storefronts and rooming houses, to use the term loosely. They stepped onto the steps of Lungren’s General Store amongst the bustle of shoppers and cowboys. Her lilac gown and gaiters seemed out of place with all the calico fabric and sturdy boots passing by. The horses and herds of cattle gave a pungent odor that crept into everything. She would soon smell of a stable. It was awful in every sense of the word and she hated it. Dirt and smell and wide open spaces. It frightened her. Hollering men and saloon girls! Out in broad daylight, at least in New York they had the decency to keep it in their own district.
She would admit it was nice to be back in her husband’s company again, she had sorely missed him, but this place was awful and he had sunk every dime they had made at their brewery in New York and then borrowed from the bank up to their fannies. If his dream of prospering in this booming cattle town didn’t pan out she didn’t know what they’d do.
Still there was adventure in the air and the excitement of starting over in a new life. She hoped this place would give them children, though what they would learn here was unimaginable. They had been denied the blessings of a family so far, perhaps here would be better. Thomas was certainly happy, just like a schoolboy again. They stopped in the alleyway and were bumped into by some surly looking scoundrel type who glared them up and down. Emma huddled closer to Thomas.
“And over there, Emma, will be the brewery.” He pointed to a place behind the buildings in the open prairie. Men were already at work and the structure was taking shape amidst the blue sky and yellow-green grass. Boards were being lifted and hammered into place. “I told ya didn’t I? This place is full of opportunity just waiting to be snatched up.” He smiled into her eyes and she again remembered why she loved him so dearly.
