My Hands Hold My Story (Rough Draft)

Chapter One

As far as inappropriate advances, it was rather light compared to some I had faced since my journey had begun. The first part of my travels, where there had been rails for train, I had been accompanied by a chaperon, Mrs. Jimson. That imposing lady reached Buffalo, NY, decided she'd had enough of traveling, and returned to Springfield.

With nowhere to go but onward, I had forced myself to continue on alone. Each new train connection had left my funds a little lighter. I could only hope that I had enough to get me all the way to Montana.

Across from me, the heavyset man mopped the sweat from his brow and said, "...mistake to come...this way." His gaze then shifted to the man beside me and nodded as though he was agreeing with something said; the response he gave was: "Business. What else?" He glanced at me as he spoke those words.

No doubt the sight of a young woman making a journey alone was strange enough. The fact that I was deaf made it even more unbelievable.

Even if I could have explained how it had happened, I don't think I would have. It would have involved putting into words what I had been through and faced every day, much less what had forced me to go west. As I thought about it, tears welled up in my eyes and I brushed at them. The only other woman in the stagecoach, however, spotted me, and she reached over from where she was seated in the middle on the opposite side of the coach. She patted my knee in what was meant to be comforting.

At the same time, the stage began to slow down. We had reached the next station and we had barely stopped before one of the passengers opened the door. He made a gesture for me to disembark first, which I was more than happy to do.

It never took long for my legs and just about every muscle in my body to ache. It was a relief to stand upright and to move around some. To my left, two men were already at work removing the harnesses from the horses.

We would only have a short time to relieve ourselves, eat a meal, and stretch our legs before the stagecoach would continue on its way, with or without us. Unsure where to go, I waited until someone else began to walk towards the station as they would have heard the directions the driver would have called out as soon as we stopped.

The woman went in a different direction, away from the main building. I assumed she was going to the outhouse, and as that was where I wished to go first, I followed her. Also, it was preferable to being alone with all the men.

Fortunately, there were two outhouses so I didn't have to wait. When I stepped back out, I discovered the skinny passenger who had been beside me right there. The sly smile on his face sent a shiver down my spine. I took a step to the side to go around him.

Before I could take a step forward, he'd grabbed my arm. "Let's have some fun," he said. His face was uncomfortably close to mine, making his words all too easy to read on his lips. The smell of his putrid breath made me gag, and I tried to jerk away from him.

Around others, I was treated with deference and respect, even when they discovered I was deaf. It was how ladies were treated in the west. This man wasn't the first who had tried to have 'fun' by confronting me away from other people, however. He would discover, however, that just because I couldn't hear did not mean I was not able to defend myself.

As it happened, this particular time, I did not have to. The other woman stepped out of the outhouse and proceeded to smack the man with her reticule, yelling at him if her body language was anything to go by.

The man released me and was quick to hurry away. Grateful for her help, I turned to the woman. I brought my fingers up to my lips and then moved them out, mouthing the words at the same time so she would be sure to understand me. 'Thank you.'