The Devil's Bride Read online

  Copyright © 2020 A.S. McGowan

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  Editor: Silvia Curry @ (silviasreading.webs.com)

  Chapter 1

  March 1863

  Danielsville, Missouri

  Matthew O'Brian had spent the last two years working for a hospital in Chicago and couldn't believe his luck when he was offered the chance to have his own practice. He stepped down from the stagecoach and waited for the wagon master to throw his single suitcase down from the top. When it hit the ground next to his feet with a heavy thud, he grabbed it up and went in search of the carriage that would take him to his new home. According to the offer of employment, Mr. Clyde Washington expected him to perform free medical care to the young women living at the women's boarding home in Danielsville. It seemed like a perfectly good arrangement. He was free to run his clinic with paid patients during the week, and on Saturdays, he was to perform free medical care to the young women.

  He spotted the black carriage and approached the older man standing there. "Are you the man Mr. Washington sent to fetch me?"

  "If you are Dr. O'Brian then yes, I am." The man reached to take his suitcase and opened the carriage door. Settling onto the seat inside the carriage, he leaned back and smiled. Life was really looking up for him. Born into a poor Irish family in Chicago, he knew life would be one of hard work and little to eat. His mother and brothers all worked hard to help pay for his lectures. He was a doctor because of them.

  That was until his brother John, a Pinkerton detective, married a very wealthy young woman. She had taken it upon herself to single-handily try to make sure that the O’Brian clan had a good life. His mother and brothers no longer had to work hard for a small penitence. His mother spent her days catering to her grandchildren—something she had dreamed about—while his brothers were free to chase their dreams instead of being forced to work just to survive. This was a life no one in the O’Brian family had ever dared dream of, and they eventually accepted their stroke of good fortune and freedom.

  He leaned his head back and thought of the last night with his family. It seemed the whole clan had gathered for a large dinner at the Woods mansion. It was a lively dinner and Matthew loved being surrounded by everyone. He wished his other three brothers could have been there. Michael was staying in England until after the war, and Patrick and Craig were fighting in the war. Unlike many Irish Americans who were drafted, Patrick and Craig had willingly joined in the fight, much to the heartache of their mother and the dismay of the rest of the family.

  The carriage came to a stop outside a white, two-story building and pulled him from his musings. The building was situated between the general store and the saloon. When the carriage door opened, he climbed out and nodded his head. "So, this is where I will be living?"

  "Mr. Washington said the living quarters were upstairs and rooms for treating patients were on the main floor. He also wanted me to remind you that you are to go see the young ladies at the boarding house tomorrow morning, then join him for dinner that evening. I will swing by around five o’clock to pick you up." With that, the man flicked the reins and headed down the road.

  Grabbing his suitcase off the ground, he headed through the front door of his new home. He noticed that someone had went to a lot of trouble to ensure that it was clean and ready to begin work. He had wondered how much effort he would have to put into a place that was offered for free. During his journey, his mind had conjured up different horrific scenarios, including broken equipment, dirty, insect-infested rooms, and inhospitable conditions. He could admit he was pleased to see that no work would be needed. He moved into a smaller room off the large open room and noticed several glass jars of varying sizes were filled with herbs and medicines. He was looking inside the cabinet when he heard the door open, followed by loud footsteps.

  When he stepped back into the open room, he saw a heavyset woman helping a boy into the room. The boy couldn't have been older than thirteen, if that. "May I help you?"

  "Are you the new doctor they talked about?" she asked, keeping her arm around the boy to steady him.

  "Yes, I am. Here, come sit him down in here." He led her into the small room and helped her situate the boy on the exam table. "So, what is wrong, young man?"

  "My leg hurts really bad." The boy lifted the leg of his trousers, exposing a severely infected wound. Without closely inspecting it, he could detect the odor of the flesh around the wound starting to fester; the wound an angry blotched purple color around his fair-colored skin.

  "What happened?" he asked as he moved to the counter and began to prepare a poultice to put on the wound.

  "I fell and cut my leg, and it just seems to be worse," the boy answered him.

  "Well, first off, son, that wound is infected. I am going to have to drain it before the infection spreads. I will be right back." He went out into the open room where he had left his suitcase and pulled out his black medical bag. Carrying it back into the room, he placed it on the counter and pulled out a wooden case. Inside laid his scalpel. Moving back to the exam table, he turned to the boy's mother. "Will you come assist me please?” Visibly paling, the woman silently nodded. Matthew turned to the boy and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Okay, son, just lay back and I will have this over with real quick.” The boy swallowed harshly and laid back with trembling hands. Matthew assisted the boy before he turned back to the woman. “Place your hands on his shoulders and hold him still. Do not allow him to move." Matthew widened his eyes to ensure the woman understood how important her job was before he began. Taking his scalpel, he cut down the middle of the infected area. The boy's screams hurt his ears and wasting no time, he pushed against the wound as yellowish-green puss oozed from the wound. Leaving the boy on the table, he opened a couple of drawers before locating the dressings he was looking for. Folding one to create a bandage, he placed the poultice onto it the poultice onto the boy's wound, and tied it on with a few strips of cloth.

  The boy closed his eyes for a moment and drew a few shaky breaths while the mother wiped a few stray tears from his cheeks. “Will he be okay? I done lost a boy to the war. I don't want to bury another."

  He noticed the tears welled up in the woman's eyes. She was no different than any of the other mothers who had buried their sons in this godforsaken war. In his mind, this war would bring no victors, only death on both sides. "Just keep the area clean and replace the bandages each day. I will send you with what you need to put on the clean bandages each time you change them. Do that, and he should be just fine. I want to see him again on Monday to make sure it is healing properly."

  She nodded and helped her boy up off the exam table. When they were gone, he sat and felt satisfied that he was exactly where he was needed. His brother, Jonah, had tried to talk him into being a Union Army doctor, but Matthew felt he could do the greater good helping civilians. Today, he did just that. He helped a young boy so his mother wouldn't have to bury another son and suffer the grief that death brought to the living.

  Chapter 2

  Saturday dawned bright and early. Matthew sat at the desk in the open room on the main floor eating a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage that Mrs. Donaldson had brought him earlier. She said she was unable to pay but was grateful for the care he gave her son yesterday. He knew what it was like to be poor and unable to afford the care
of a doctor. So many died in his old neighborhood in Chicago because they couldn't afford medical care. It was a luxury and thus, often unable to be obtained. Eating his breakfast, he found this to be payment enough—a breakfast he didn't have to cook himself.

  See, he thought to himself, I don't need a wife. David and John may have fallen down that trap, but not him, no matter how much his mother pushed and nagged him to find one. No, he thought as he put the last bite in his mouth, I definitely don’t need a wife. With his breakfast finished, he took his plate and fork to the wash basin, washed them, then put them on the rack to dry. With the mess cleaned up, he packed his medical bag and headed for the boarding house.

  The boarding house sat on a small corner lot and was no more than a two-story house that resembled his. He went up the stairs to the door, knocked loudly, and waited. The door opened and a woman appeared, who looked him up and down, then slammed the door in his face. Stunned, Matthew stood there for a few moments and then knocked again.

  "Look, no men are allowed here. Now, go away." The woman moved to slam the door again but Matthew stuck his foot in the door. "Move your foot. The rules are simple . . . no men come here."

  "I was told that it was part of my job to come each Saturday."

  She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you the new doctor Mr. Washington promised us?"

  "Yes, ma'am. I am Matthew O'Brian." He moved his foot out of the door and breathed a sigh of relief when she opened the door and stepped back so he could enter.

  "I am Doris; I look after the girls here. Follow me." She led him into a sitting room off the foyer. He noticed there were five girls sitting about the room, who all appeared to be to be in their late teens or early twenties, but that was pushing it. "Ladies, the new doctor is here."

  He watched as they turned toward him. It was as if they moved as one, each cautious as they assessed him with wide eyes and firm lips. He couldn't place it, but they looked scared of him. Now why would they be scared of him? Maybe the previous doctor had been a quack. "Hello, ladies. I am Dr. O'Brian. I wanted to come and introduce myself. If any of you have any ailments you need treated, please let me know."

  The girls silently stared at him as he gazed at each in turn. He noticed one young girl had a black eye and he walked over to where she sat. "What happened to your eye?"

  "Nothing. I fell," she answered, though she never looked up at him.

  "I have some salve for it, if you would like?" He tried to keep his voice gentle, but an anger built up in him. He didn't believe for a moment she had fallen. It was very clear someone had hit her.

  Her fingers trembled slightly, and her voice was barely above a whisper. "No, thank you, sir."

  He spent the next twenty minutes trying to talk with the girls and seeing if they needed anything. It was a complete disaster as none of them wanted to talk to him. Doris told him to just be patient with them as the girls didn't trust strangers. He made his way back home and wandered around the house. He had unpacked his single suitcase and familiarized himself with his private rooms. All the while, his mind kept shifting to the strange occurrence he had with the girls in the boarding house. He moved to his practice and checked the drawers and cabinets, ensuring all the necessary supplies were available in each room. Deciding he had enough of the silence and his own company, he headed out to explore the small village. He had been told by Doris that the stagecoach company served lunch to the locals and those coming through town. Heading that way, he noticed a church sitting on the edge of town and a sheriff's office. The village was small, but he welcomed the quieter, slower pace here than the city. Taking a deep breath, he had to admit even the air smelled better here.

  He stepped through the doors of the stagecoach company and saw a long table with several men sitting and eating. Taking up an empty chair, he hadn't sat long before a pretty blonde came up to him. "Lunch is stew. You can have a biscuit left over from breakfast or fresh cornbread."

  "I will take the cornbread, ma'am," he said as he looked up into the greenest eyes he had ever seen.

  "You the new doctor?" the grizzly old man across from him asked.

  "Yes, sir. Dr. O'Brian." He reached across to shake the man's hand. The man just stared at him and feeling a fool, he pulled his hand back. "Seems like a nice place to live."

  "Depends on who you ask," the man responded.

  "Don't mind, Jacob. He is just grouchy," a middle-aged man said. "I'm the sheriff here. Names Liam Jameson. If you need anything, just let me know."

  "Sheriff, my ass. You ain't nothing but a pretty piece of town decoration. No more useful than a lady's lace doily," Jacob spat.

  "Jacob, that is enough. Don't go makin' trouble," the sheriff warned.

  Jacob stood and stared down at Matthew. "Watch your back, kid. You done accepted a job from the devil himself." Before Matthew could say a word, the man took off.

  Sheriff Jameson looked over at Matthew before lifting his spoon. "Don't mind him, he is just as crazy as ever."

  Matthew simply nodded. He was too confused to say much else. When his food arrived, he ate in silence. The odd man's behavior had the wheels in his head turning. Maybe he was just a suspicious sort of person, but he wanted to know more about his employer and this town he now called home. He ate his soup and warm cornbread as his mind played up the words Jacob had said. Men came and left while he slowly ate his soup, completely lost in thought. He barely even remembered bidding the pretty blonde goodbye as she took his emptied bowl. Heading home, he decided to pen a letter to his brothers, John and David. Maybe between a Pinkerton detective and an ex-Texas Ranger, he could find out a bit more and put his irrational suspicions to rest. He sat at his worn, wooden desk in his private rooms and stared at the paper for minutes, urging the words to come to him. After writing the letters, the rest of the day was spent relaxing and getting ready for dinner with Mr. Washington.

  ***

  Sarah sat staring at her reflection in the mirror. She hated the way she looked. Her black hair hung loose, framing a face she barely recognized. By day, she looked like any other young woman in Danielsville. By evening, she was painted up and barely clad. The new doctor had no idea what he had gotten himself into. The story was that the boarding house gave room and board, along with a bit of education, to the young women here. They were to go on to a formal governess school to become governesses to the children of the rich. He was to tend to their medical needs until such time. Boarding house, ha! What a joke, she thought. None of them were getting an education exactly. They were saloon girls, but the good doctor was never to know that. Mr. Washington wasn't a generous benefactor; he was a cruel man who kept the girls as slaves. He owned the whole town, so escape wasn't an option. She knew because she had tried. It took time for her to build up the courage to flee everything she had known, and she hadn’t made it very far. She remembered the feeling of eyes on her as she ran as fast as her tired, abused legs would take her. She was just on the outskirts of town when she could go no farther. She stopped, hidden from view she so foolishly thought. But then Mr. Washington found her and dragged her right back—his hand heavy and lewd the entire journey back to the boarding house.

  "Sarah, the carriage is waiting," Doris called up the stairs.

  To ensure that no one in town saw the girls walking about dressed this way, a carriage came every evening and transported them to the saloon. They entered through the back and the only ones who knew what they did were the bartender and the men who bought them for the night. Those men weren't openly talking, so their good neighbors didn't know a bunch of whores were living next to them. Standing, she made her way downstairs; she knew better than to dawdle. Inside the carriage, she was alone tonight, the other girls having gone ahead earlier. Unfortunately, her feigning ill had not worked and Mr. Washington had sent his henchman to tell her what would happen if she didn't go. So she promised to be ready in an hour, knowing that Mr. Washington was not a generous man, and an hour would be far more than he would be willing to give. Now alon
e in the carriage, she wondered about telling the new doctor the truth. In the end, she knew better. The last time she told someone the truth, they ended up dead. No, she would endure this nightmare and one day, find a way to escape without risking anyone else's life.

  Reaching the back of the saloon, Sarah ducked her head and rushed inside. Standing in the kitchen, she could hear the piano playing from the front of the saloon. It barely drown out the loud voices of men who were having way too much to drink. The bartender knew she should have arrived by now and would come looking for her. She knew she should head out there on her own without being forced, but she could bring her legs to carry her. She remembered the last time she had tried to hide in the kitchen and a shiver ran down her spine. She believed she was clever once she found a pantry she could hide in. She had eyed the small closet for days before growing the nerve to hide in there. She had barely settled in under a dark shelf when she heard the loud, angry voices and the heavy footfalls move toward her dark corner. As the door opened and murky light filtered into the pantry, she squeezed her eyes shut to take the beating she knew was coming. She shook her head and took a deep breath, and she forced the memory from her mind and urged her legs to carry her out into the saloon. She could feel the men's eyes rake over her body, slimy the way a snake would feel crawling over one's skin. She moved to the bar and took the glass the bartender offered her. Putting it to her lips, she tilted her head back and downed the amber liquid in one drink. Liquid courage Doris had told her when she first was put to work in the saloon. A couple more of those and she wouldn't care what happened tonight . . . at least until morning. Morning was when the guilt and shame came, making life unbearable. It slammed into her, pulled her into its grip, and refused to ever let go.

  Chapter 3

  Entering the foyer of Mr. Washington's, home he was greeted by an elderly butler, who led him into the sitting room. Standing in the room alone, he allowed his gaze to wander over the exquisite furnishings. He had to admit the man had great taste. His sitting room could rival the sitting room back at the Woods’ mansion. It at first had taken Matthew some time to get used to living in such luxury—gas lighting, an indoor privy, and even running water which could be run cold or hot. He smiled when he remembered his brother leading him to the bathroom and showing him the running water. Thinking about that, he wondered if Mr. Washington had running water here in this village? Looking about more closely, he noticed that the room was illuminated by kerosene lanterns. At least this man didn't have all the luxuries money could buy.