May You Be Blessed With Everything Your Heart Desires
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The sky had grown dark by the time Ben returned to the boardinghouse. The streetlights cast an amber glow that was reflected in the glass windows of buildings, casting a warm welcome into town and making it seem so much more welcoming than his old home in Philadelphia.
He didn’t want to go back there—at least not until he could figure out how to save his family’s business, but for now, he needed some time alone. It would give him an opportunity to think and plan what to do next. He hadn’t been away from his wife and daughter since their marriage three years ago, except when they were traveling around the country. That seemed like forever ago.
He pulled off his hat as soon as he entered the boardinghouse. “Ben Cartwright?”
“Yes.”
A man wearing a white shirt and black vest opened the door and came outside. “Mr. Cartwright? I’m Mr. Stroud. I was told you might be coming here today.”
“You have my thanks,” said Ben, giving him his card. “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous of me.”
Stroud laughed lightly. “Not at all. We’ve been expecting you.”
They shook hands. “Did your daughter come along with you?” asked Ben, trying to remember if his wife’s name was Elizabeth or Eliza.
“No. She’ll stay in San Francisco while I’m gone.”
“She must miss her mother terribly.”
“Oh yes, she does, but Mrs. Pendergast is very good about sending her letters, and pictures.”
“And you?”
“My wife is in Denver working on another case. It’s hard leaving our little girl.”
“That’s the hardest part—leaving the ones we love.”
“Well, please call upon us again when you get settled down in Virginia City,” Stroud said. “We’d be honored to help you find any supplies or services you require.”
Before he left, Ben asked where Mrs. Stroud lived.
“Right up the road a piece.”
As they walked toward Mrs. Stroud’s house, Ben noticed that most of the other people in town were women. A lot of them wore aprons over their dresses, but others wore bonnets as they walked past the saloon and stores. Some even had babies tucked under their arms.
Most of these women probably had husbands, but he wondered why the men weren’t out shopping for their wives needs. Or maybe those women didn’t have husbands; maybe they were widows. And then he remembered the letter he received from Mary Ellen last year.
“Mrs. Stroud will see you,” said a woman with a big smile.
A tall, elderly lady stood waiting for Ben in the hallway. When she saw the expression on Ben’s face, her smile faded.
“Why do I feel like I’m walking into a den of rattlesnakes?” he muttered to himself. His gaze moved from one person to another. They were all dressed like his wife, in long sleeves and high necklines, with modest skirts, and they looked ready to jump at him. Even the baby in his wife’s arms looked like it was preparing itself for a fight.
His heart was pounding as he followed Mrs. Stroud down a short flight of stairs. “I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable, Mr. Cartwright,” said the lady behind him. “I apologize if I’m imposing on your visit.”
“It’s perfectly fine,” said Ben, though he was glad to have the woman’s hand to steady him. “Just let me know who I should pay my respects to first.”
“Your wife will be delighted to meet you. I’m sure she knows that you’re out here.”
Ben wasn’t exactly certain about that, but it would make a good excuse to see his wife. Maybe he could even talk to her before the other ladies arrived. But when they reached the bottom of the stairway, his knees went weak.
There was his wife’s sister and his wife’s best friend—all three standing side by side in front of a door, each staring at him with suspicion. What did they think when they read his letter? Was it true that he couldn’t afford to send any money? Did he lie about being a detective? Why were they looking at him like they expected him to attack?
“I’ll leave you two to discuss matters privately,” Mrs. Stroud said, stepping aside to give him an unobstructed view of the women.
For the first time since arriving in Virginia City, Ben wished he hadn’t come here. He felt cornered and wanted nothing more than to take off in the opposite direction, but he was committed now. With a deep breath, he stepped forward and held out his hand to his wife’s friend.
“Eliza, I’m so happy to finally meet you.”
Her mouth dropped open. She took his hand in hers, but her grip seemed limp, her movements jerky and unbalanced. Her eyes were dull and unfocused. “Oh, my dear,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never imagined seeing you again.”
***
Mary Ellen’s heart pounded against her ribs as she watched Ben walk up the street toward her home.
It was late afternoon, and Ben was the only person walking around. The rest of the town had closed up shop for the day, except for a few women heading in and out of the saloons and stores. She knew Ben was going through a rough patch financially, but it was hard to believe how much his life had changed in just a couple of years.
If only she could go back in time, to tell him not to become involved with the Pendergasts. But it was too late for regrets; she had to live for today.
He paused to lean on the porch railing, which put him close enough for Mary Ellen to notice the dark circles under his eyes. It was obvious that he was suffering from sleepless nights. She wondered what kind of dreams he was having because he looked troubled.
“Is there something I can do for you?” she called to him.
“No, I—” He cleared his throat. “I came by to see your husband.”
She turned away from the window so she wouldn’t embarrass herself with a teary-eyed reaction. Ben was standing right outside, and he had to know she’d been watching him. She didn’t want him to suspect anything, especially since he was here to ask for money. She was afraid that if she told him she owed money, he might change his mind about asking her.
“What happened to your hair?” asked Ben, pointing to the strands that hung down her back.
She hadn’t worn her hair this way in over four months. Now that she was a widow, people assumed she was poor, and since her hair was so valuable, it was the least of her concerns. But it was a mistake to cut off her hair; it gave her a sense of control, and now that she’d lost it, she felt helpless.
She would soon lose everything else, too, if she didn’t get some money quickly. “My husband cut my hair off,” she said with a shrug. “Now my head is always cold.”
She noticed his lips tighten at that comment. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said, then glanced around like he might bolt. “Well, you don’t want me bothering you,” he continued, as he started to turn back toward the street.
But when he realized she wasn’t going to follow him, he stopped. “You can call me Ben instead of Mr. Fletcher.”
“Yes, sir.” Mary Ellen forced herself to smile. “We’re happy to see you, Ben.”
A frown crossed his face, then a moment later he shrugged and smiled himself. “I’ll come inside for dinner. We’ve got plenty of food.”
As Ben headed into her home, Mary Ellen followed behind him with a heavy sigh. When he disappeared from sight, she walked past the parlor where she and John once sat, and entered the kitchen where she prepared meals for both of them. A pot of beef stew simmered over the stove, and a plate of hot biscuits stood waiting for Ben beside the fireplace.
“Do you want milk or water with your tea?” she asked. She poured Ben a cup of water and handed it to him as he sat down in one of the chairs around her dining room table. “The stew is almost ready.”
His hands shook slightly as he lifted the teacup. His eyes flicked down to his fingers before glancing up at her. He set the cup down and took a sip. He leaned forward to blow on the liquid.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned by the fact that he seemed ill at ease.
“Fine,” he said gruffly, and then after another pause added, “Just tired.”
Ben took a big bite of stew. He chewed slowly and savored every mouthful while he listened to Mary Ellen’s account of how the Pendergasts had killed their husbands. As Ben listened intently to all the details, he nodded along with her and occasionally offered an encouraging remark. But he kept looking out the window toward the street.
“I don’t understand why they did it,” she finally said. “Why would they have someone kill their own father-in-law? Who knows what he might have done—what they might have learned.”
“Perhaps they were just trying to send a message,” suggested Ben.
Mary Ellen’s brow furrowed at his suggestion. “But who would they be sending it to? The sheriff won’t even look for them in town.”
It was true; no one cared what happened to Ben and John. They were two penniless men who could easily disappear without causing much of a stir. “Maybe they wanted to send the message to us,” Ben continued, sounding unsure of his words.
Mary Ellen didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but when Ben didn’t seem to hear her silence, she finally spoke. “Who are we?”
“You mean you and I?” he replied with a question in his voice.
“Don’t play games with me, Ben!” Her voice rose in anger and frustration. “We are not the Pendergasts. We are nothing like them, so stop thinking of us as if we are them.”
When his jaw tightened, she went on. “We’re just like you. We were married. Our husbands died the same day the Pendergasts’ fathers died. And now our lives are falling apart because we’ve lost everything!” She let that sink in as she waited for a response, but Ben remained silent. Finally, she turned away from him to serve his tea.
He looked down at the cup of steaming liquid. He seemed to be considering something as he watched the steam rise from the surface. “If we don’t want people to think we’re the Pendergasts, we should dress differently,” he muttered. “But we haven’t got the money to do that. Not yet anyway.”
Mary Ellen knew exactly what Ben meant; the cost of living these days had risen dramatically. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been keeping track of expenses ever since she first arrived here. Even though Ben was working for her, and they weren’t spending a dime of their savings, they still found it difficult to make ends meet each month.
In addition to paying their rent, they’d recently taken out a loan on the house to pay off the mortgage so she could buy it outright. And she was hoping to save enough money soon to put a new roof on it. If Ben worked at his job for another three months, she figured she could afford to do that. Of course, that would leave them short on cash until then.
She poured more tea into his cup. “How about you start working at my place?”
“What?” His gaze narrowed, and his expression hardened. “No!” He pushed back his chair and stood up abruptly. Then he strode out of her house and headed to his room. She watched him go through the doorway, then turned around to finish her work day alone in the kitchen.
***
The next morning Ben went to his normal breakfast spot to eat alone. He didn’t notice when Mary Ellen left. It wasn’t until midafternoon that he realized something was wrong. She usually came in to check on him in the mornings to see how he felt before starting her work day.
But when he went into her house to find her, the place was empty. A search of the rooms only revealed a note on her desk saying, “I’m going home today to pack. You can come by tonight after supper.”
Her sudden departure surprised him. What had changed overnight? Had his condition improved or worsened? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten his meals alone. And now he had to wait another night before being able to talk with Mary Ellen.
At lunchtime, he walked across the street to visit Mrs. Tabor. He asked her where Mary Ellen had gone.
“Oh, I don’t know, Ben,” answered Mrs. Tabor. “I didn’t ask her, but maybe she has a family member living close by who can help take care of you. Don’t get mad at her, but you need to eat your meal and rest this afternoon. I’ll call her later and ask if there’s anything we can do.”
After finishing his lunch, Ben walked slowly to his house. Mary Ellen’s bedroom door was closed, so he knocked gently on it and called out, “Mary Ellen?”
A moment later the door opened. Mary Ellen appeared in a white dressing gown, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders and looking as unkempt as usual. Her gaze darted away from him and she hurriedly stepped aside to allow him into her house.
She said nothing for several seconds as he stood beside the bed staring down at her. He noticed a red blotch on her shoulder and wondered if she had been crying. But when she finally spoke, her words surprised him. “Ben, I have to tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“It’s about us.”
“Us?” When he failed to understand what she was talking about, she explained, “You and me.”
“What does ‘us’ have to do with anything?” His voice rose in suspicion.
As soon as the words escaped his lips, she knew she’d made an enormous mistake. Now she had no choice but to face whatever consequences would come from it. She took a deep breath and began telling him what she wanted him to do.
“I want you to move into my house.”
His eyes narrowed as he stared at her without saying a word. The look on his face was filled with confusion and anger. “Why?” he repeated when he finally found his voice. “Don’t you feel sorry for me anymore? Don’t you know what that means?”
Mary Ellen nodded her head. “I do know what that means.” And she did understand. There were times in the past when she thought she might like to marry someone someday — not just because of the Pendergasts, but also to have children.
She wanted to be part of a family and she knew Ben would never have a wife and family unless he found a woman willing to live with him despite his illness. But she still wasn’t ready to give up on them, and even though she had decided to leave town, she still believed that one day she could make their relationship work.
But she’d given up on him. “I can’t believe I ever agreed to this,” she mumbled. “I should have known it would end badly.”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you giving up on us?”
He didn’t seem angry anymore; his tone was pleading and confused. She’d expected him to yell or scream at her instead.
“Please, Ben.”
He shook his head. “You’re crazy, Mary Ellen.”
She took a step closer to him and pleaded again. “Don’t you realize how much better our lives could be if we were married?”
“That won’t change your feelings for me. How can you even think about making such a commitment?”
“I have no choice! My family is here. If I don’t marry, they will force me to stay in New Orleans and I’ve already wasted too many years away from them.”
“Your family doesn’t matter to me.”
“Well, then what do you care about me?”
His silence seemed to mock her. He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward to rub his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth, shaking his head from side to side. When he turned around, she saw the sadness on his face and understood why. “I love you,” he said softly. “And I always will.”
“Then why are you fighting against everything we both want?”
He stared at her with pain in his eyes. “You’re right. It hurts me. You see, I’m dying, Mary Ellen.”
“You mean you know you’re going to die?”
His expression darkened, and a faint tremor ran through him. “Yes, but I refuse to give up hope until there’s absolutely no chance I’ll recover. That’s why I want you to marry me and move with me to Kansas City.
There I will be able to afford the best doctors in the country and continue my search for a cure. We can start a family, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove myself wrong. I may only have a few months left, maybe less than that.”
“How do you know you’re going to die?”
“Because I’ve been sick for more than twenty years now.”
“So it wasn’t just a temporary sickness?”
“No. It started when I was a teenager and I haven’t stopped being sick since.”
“Twenty-three years?” Her heart ached for him. “Is it something we can prevent?”
Ben shook his head. “There aren’t any doctors who specialize in cases like mine.”
“Maybe I could get some kind of degree and become one.”
“That’s impossible. I’m dying, and all I want to do is spend every waking moment with you. If I’m going to be dead soon anyway, what difference will another year make?”
She felt her eyes fill with tears, and she quickly wiped them away before saying, “I can’t bear to lose you, Ben. Can’t we find a doctor who will save you?”
“That’s not possible.” He turned away and stared out the window, his shoulders slumped.
They both knew the truth. They couldn’t go to the doctors in Kansas City. She was a Pendergast and he was a Negro. The prejudice and ignorance of others wouldn’t let them seek the medical care they needed.
She tried to think of what she could possibly say that would help ease his pain. “You must have loved me once.”
“Oh, Mary Ellen. You’re so blind.” His voice was low and sad. “It was only for the money — nothing more. You’re not the only one who could have gotten it from me.”
“If that’s true—”
He waved his hand as if to dismiss her statement. “Of course it’s true. You were just a means to an end.”
The hurt in her chest seemed to grow, and her vision blurred. Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Why did you marry me in the first place?”
“To spite your family—and because I had to marry someone.”
“Wasn’t there anyone else?”
“There weren’t.” He laughed bitterly, and she saw a hint of anger in his eyes. “I thought you were different.”
“Mean, arrogant and selfish.”
He looked away and shrugged. “I didn’t mean to be.”
Mary Ellen stood up, walked over to him, and reached for his hand. “Let me show you something,” she whispered.
As she pulled him up, he hesitated but allowed himself to be led outside. They stepped into the cool night air where stars filled the sky above, casting their twinkling light upon them. “Look up,” she said.
He followed her direction, and the sight of hundreds of constellations made him smile. “It’s beautiful.”
“I used to lie out here late at night when I was a child. It reminded me of heaven, which is why I named the ranch after it.”
A distant train rumbled along the tracks, reminding her of the many times she’d waited in the cold for the whistle to announce it was time to leave. She remembered her father coming home, the pride on his face whenever he told her how well he was doing.
It gave her hope and the promise of a bright future. All of those hopes had died, and now the ranch was hers alone. But still, she held on to the dream that someday it could become a reality again. And this place was one of the things she was most proud of, proof that her dreams might yet come true. She wanted Ben to understand that.
“This reminds you of heaven?” He pointed at the stars, which shone even brighter than usual. “Are you saying there’s a chance that maybe I could be healed? Maybe you found someone who knows what to do?”
Mary Ellen nodded. “Someone I met in Kansas City.”
He closed his eyes, and a look of relief washed over him. “I knew I could count on you.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” She didn’t like to see him so hopeful, knowing that there was a real possibility that it wouldn’t happen.
“We’ll try anything to save my life,” Ben said, squeezing her hand. “I won’t give up without a fight.” He looked down at their hands together and smiled sadly. “You don’t mind if I’m not exactly the same person anymore?”
“I love you for all of you.”
Ben sighed. “When you first came here, you were the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I loved everything about you—your sweet smile, your dark curls, the way you dressed yourself.” His gaze turned wistful and he smiled faintly. “But now…I know the real you, and I think it’s better than you realize.”
“Thank you,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
“I always admired your strength and courage, but now I realize how smart you are, too.” He paused for a moment, then added softly, “It’s a shame we can’t live forever.”
She glanced away. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m serious—”
“No. Don’t tell me that or I may start to cry.”
“I hate myself when I hear people make jokes about death,” he said quietly. “It makes me think that they don’t take themselves seriously enough. That’s a terrible mistake. We have to remember our mortality every day. It’s a part of life.”
“And death is a part of life.”
“Not when you have someone special waiting for you.”
She swallowed hard and looked away. What Ben was asking for was impossible. Even if she could find a cure for him, she couldn’t leave the ranch and abandon her responsibilities.
“Do you really believe there’s someone out there for everyone?”
“Yes…maybe not in the way I used to, but yes.”
Mary Ellen took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll try to find someone who can help you, Ben, but don’t expect miracles.”
His eyes searched hers, and she wondered if she could possibly find it in her heart to send him back to Kansas City. “Will you come with me?”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Please—”
“You’re going to die, Ben.” Her throat tightened. “That’s the only reason why I would go anywhere near Dr. Pendergast’s laboratory.” She squeezed his hand. “But don’t worry, because we will get through this.”
She kissed him on the lips, then pulled him inside and sat him on the couch before she returned to her chair. She stared at his profile as the darkness settled around them. This wasn’t what she wanted to talk to him about tonight.
She wished she could tell him more, that she wanted to share everything she’d gone through to reach this point. If only she could tell him the truth about the baby and her own mother, then she might feel some measure of peace. There was something important, though, that she mustn’t reveal.
She cleared her throat nervously. “If you want to know how it feels to be a woman in this town, then I guess you already know the answer to that question.”
He glanced up at her quickly and then looked away. She could see his confusion, but she was certain he understood the meaning behind her words.
“Women aren’t treated very well here,” she said, trying not to sound bitter. “Men make all of the decisions, and women are expected to follow their rules. And sometimes…they’re just ignored. They can never do what men can.”
“I understand how the women in your family felt,” he said.
“What?”
“They were forced to marry outside of their religion,” he said, his voice low, “and they didn’t want to.”
Mary Ellen remembered seeing the picture of a woman wearing a dress that reminded her of a wedding gown. It made her think about her mother. “Why did they have to?”
“I think they wanted to stay together and raise children according to their faith,” he answered. “But your grandmother had no choice but to wed Mr. Ridenhour.”
“But your parents weren’t raised any different from anyone else in this area,” Mary Ellen said. “Your father came up here to become a preacher.”
“My dad wasn’t much of a churchgoer, so I’m not surprised he got fired,” Ben said lightly.
She frowned, confused by his comment. “Did something happen between him and his congregation?”
“Nah…it was nothing like that,” he said with a grin. “He just wasn’t cut out to be a minister.”
“So what happened?”
“I don’t know exactly why,” Ben said, looking away, “but I think my grandfather lost a bet.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His expression grew sad. “This isn’t easy for anyone—you included. You’re a good girl, and it’s hard enough to keep your faith when people mock you or ridicule you. But when one of the community’s most respected citizens acts disrespectfully toward you, that hurts even more.”
He looked down at his hands. “My grandfather was a hypocrite, and that made my parents’ job harder.”
Mary Ellen waited for him to continue and thought about how he had been able to stand up for himself against his grandfather. The man must have had quite an influence over him as a child.
“How did your grandfather treat your mother?” she asked, thinking about his earlier remark.
“He loved her dearly. He treated her like a princess.”
There was still something bothering her. “Ben…did you say he died young?”
He nodded. “My father told me about it…that he was killed in an accident.”
“Was it a train wreck?”
“No. An airplane.”
Mary Ellen gasped. “An airplane? How horrible.”
“It happened in the war,” Ben explained. “My dad never mentioned how my grandfather was injured, only that he’d been killed in the air.”
“I’m sure that was very difficult for your family,” Mary Ellen said softly. “Especially since your mother had to deal with so many other hardships.”
He smiled sadly. “Yeah.”
She reached for her journal and flipped through it. On the page was written: “Mary Ellen was born in 1887. Mother was twenty-two years old and had married my father when she was nineteen.” Her mind drifted back to her mother, who had probably felt trapped by her marriage.
Then she realized Ben hadn’t yet seen the entry, which made it impossible to discuss this subject further tonight.
The End