MARTHA'S DIARY
By Mesabi64
This story was inspired by a film, a 1950s western. Back then, the Hollywood Production Code emasculated scripts with any sex in them, to a juvenile level. Violence, massacres, in living color, were deemed wholesome entertainment for all audiences. Movie star Maureen O'Hara said of her role with John Wayne in "McClintock!" I had good legs; I wanted to show more of them, but Duke refused, saying this was a family picture. There is a lot of good-natured violence in "McClintock!" though.
This is my adult version of the story.
1887
This diary has been a dull record of my spinsterhood, until recently. At age 40, well 46, I had long given up on having a husband, children and my own home. My father was a widower, my mother having died young. I was a big disappointment to him, because he wanted to leave his business to his son. He owns the richest copper mine in the state. The mining business is a far cry from the feminine skills I was taught, to be a homemaker and play the spinet.
About a year ago, Father hired a new accountant, Raymond Teal, a handsome young man with a charming manner. He had dark hair, and a thin mustache. He was of medium height and slender. Several months later, Father invited him to supper. I was to display my cooking and housekeeping skills. This embarrassed me, because I was at least fifteen years older than Raymond and as plain as a faded apron. I thought I might have a good figure, still, but ladies do not dress to display their figures!
As a possibly lonely bachelor, Raymond was invited to dine with us again by Father. Raymond asked Father's permission to court me! Although he had no illusions about my appeal to a handsome, much younger man, Father granted permission with an eye to substituting into his business a son-in-law for a son. I was desperate to have my own home. So, while Raymond pretended to love me, I pretended that he did. I intended to do my part as his wife and hope that he might eventually care for me as well as for my financial prospects.
After our marriage in the morning, we engaged a special stage to Contention for our honeymoon. As we crossed the desert, we encountered a man on foot with only a saddle and his rifle. Raymond did not want to stop, but our driver turned out to be a friend of the cowboy and stopped for him. The driver addressed him as Jack Brody.
"It's 15 miles to Contention," the driver said.
"We can't leave him way out in the desert," I agreed.
The man was tall and slender, mostly muscle I thought. He looked about my age. He had a good face, weathered and ruggedly handsome. His manner was good-natured about the misfortune by which he lost his horse. Raymond insisted that he ride up with the driver. Off we went. There was a way station about halfway along. When we arrived, the stationmaster did not appear. Mr. Brody jumped down.
"I was just here yesterday. Tom and his boy were present and in charge."
The windows and entrance were in shadow; it looked dark inside. Then, from the darkness, we heard a commanding voice,
"Let's see your hands! Get out and shed your guns, if you have any."
Three men emerged. The leader, Travis, was older, of medium height and muscular. He had thick, curly black hair with touches of gray. His face was pock-marked. There was Mingo, a young, thin, swarthy Mexican or half-breed with a cruel face, the skin stretched tightly over his skull, and dead eyes; he held two six-shooters. The third, Jed, looked the youngest, with blonde hair and a face not yet hardened.
The driver hesitated to climb down. Then he reached into the boot for his sawed-off shotgun, swung it toward the outlaws and was shot with both barrels by the young gunslinger. Mr. Brody turned and knelt to look at his friend. He rose and turned toward the outlaws.
"Where's the stationmaster?"
Mingo replied, "In the well."
"And his boy?"
"He's in the well, too."
"That's no way! Let us bury them."
"You ready to join them?"
Travis spoke, "Holster your guns! Don't you see there's a lady present?"
"I never shot a lady, not yet." Mingo said.
"Ma'm, can you cook?" Travis asked.
"Yyess."
"Get inside and cook! I haven't had a home-cooked meal in a coon's age!"
Raymond looked elegant in his pale blue groom's suit but anxious. I went inside and found provisions.
"Mr. Travis, if you intend to hold up the stage, this isn't the regular one. We got married today and rented it. The stage you want will be along in about an hour, so just let us go. We won't tell about you!"
Travis laughed and addressed Mr. Brodie.
"Do you promise, too?"
"What do you think?"
"I think I'd believe you more than him."
Raymond said, "Listen, do you know who my wife is? Do you know who her father is?"
"No. Who are they?"
"Her father is John Olson. He owns the richest copper mine in the state!"
"So?"
"He'd pay a lot to get her back. He's worth at least half a million dollars!"
"Interesting. How would we arrange this?"
"I could carry a message that you are holding her for ransom and your instructions about the sum and where to meet for the exchange."
"Aren't you worried about leaving your bride behind with outlaws?"
"She's too valuable for you to mistreat her."
The men all came inside and sat down to eat.
"Lady, you are a good cook!" The leader exclaimed.
Back outside, Travis gave instructions, which my husband wrote down. He sent Mingo along to make sure my husband carried out his mission.
We mounted horses from the station's corral and rode closer along the way to my father, until we reached a shack built at the entrance of a small cave. Mr. Brodie and I were told to stay inside. Several hours later, Raymond returned with the gunman. Father had agreed to their demand of $50,000 and the meeting place. He would have the money ready tomorrow.
Travis said to Raymond, "We don't need you anymore."
"Can I go? Really? I could meet my father-in-law and show him the way back to the meeting place."
"Yeh, you could do that. Don't you want to say goodbye to your missus?"
"Is she asleep? Well, I won't disturb her but just go and be back before she knows it."
Raymond got back onto his horse and rode almost out of sight around the bend of a cliff. He turned to wave. Travis raised his rifle and shot my husband out of the saddle! Mingo eagerly finished him off. I wept at the horror of being captive to killers and being a widow before I was completely a wife. For my unloving husband, I had but a sigh of regret.
Night fell. I could not eat. I lay down in the shack weeping with despair. Mr. Brodie shook me.
"We're still alive! While there's life, there's hope someone said. Our chance may come, and we must be ready to take it!"
In the morning, I was rudely awakened. Mr. Brodie was outside. Mingo was rousting me.
"Okay, take your clothes off!"
Travis stood at the entrance, his gun trained on Mr. Brodie. Jed had been sent up a cliff to keep watch. I refused. He said he'd tear them off me, and I'd be half-naked in their company from then on. I removed my jacket and then my shirtwaist. Impatiently, he pulled the rest down to expose my breasts.
