After . . . after what he did to me — Richard had said I’d be forced to be his, or be every man’s.
And maybe if I didn’t have all my fancy education, that’d be true.
Instead, I’m going to run.
So while Papa and that man negotiate a dowry that suits both of them, I make my own plans.
I turn to the newspaper first and find a handful of personal advertisements seeking a bride. Each advertisement requests females to write letters so that the man can select a suitable companion for life. She would have paid passage out west, a guaranteed husband, and a promised life of security.
But I am done with men owning me.
Near those advertisements, I spot a small clip sponsored by the National Board of Education for the Populace. I memorize the address of the office and go there on my own under the pretext of hat shopping the next day.
The man in charge of the office is dour and is unhappy that I have no proof of the kind of education I’d need to be a teacher — no certification or proper training. I’m able to give enough evidence that I’m adequately intelligent for the job, though.
“I did get a request,” he says finally, after quizzing me skeptically. “It’s a rough school, just starting, and I doubt they’d be picky about certification. They had one teacher for a few months, but the area gets cold, and he left at the first hint of winter. It’s in the territory of Wyoming. A subscription school. We don’t usually deal with those, but they sent a request.”
I have no idea what a subscription school is, but I nod my head eagerly.
“Look, you look like a nice girl,” the stodgy old man says, peering down his glasses. “If you got yourself in a bit of trouble . . .” His gaze moves down my body.
“Please tell me more about this Wyoming school,” I say coldly.
“They’ll pay for your passage on the Union Pacific, and you’ll have a room and board, taken directly out of your fees by the families setting up the school,” the man tells me. “But it’s dangerous out there for a woman of genteel nature.”
“That will be fine.” I stand, holding my hand out for the card with information on it. “I’ll go there.”
The program arranges the details. I am to take a train from Chicago to Cheyenne, and then a coach. My students will be aged seven to sixteen, as the new law stipulates their education. I am only nineteen myself; the idea of teaching people just three years my junior is rather intimidating.
The idea of leaving home with nothing but some books and clothes is rather intimidating too.
But then at supper the night after I receive my Union Pacific ticket, Richard touches my knee under the table. I startle and move away, but when I look across the table, I see my father frown, just a bit, and shake his head subtly.
I can’t leave soon enough.
I try, one last time.
Papa sits in his office, the rich smell of cigar smoke wrapping around the books lined up neatly on the shelves.
“Don’t make me do this,” I say from the doorway.
“What? Helen, don’t mumble, come in.” Papa leans back in his chair, puffing.
“Don’t make me marry him,” I say, louder. “It’s not right.”
Papa lowers the cigar slowly, letting it drop ash over the side of the desk. “You didn’t give yourself many choices.”
“This is a choice,” I say. “Not marrying him is a choice. I don’t care about scandal; with my dowry, I doubt any man will care in a year or so. Don’t make me do this.”
Papa starts to speak, but I cut him off.
“You raised me for better. You know I deserve better.”
“Richard’s a decent enough man.”
“He’s rich,” I say, “but he’s not decent.”
Papa shrugs and picks his cigar back up.
“Mama wouldn’t make me marry him,” I say.
The end of the cigar glows red, the smoke obscuring Papa’s face.
“Dead women have no voice,” he growls.
I gasp, shocked that he would dismiss Mama so easily.
Papa leans over his desk. “Listen, Helen, you’re old enough and God knows you’re experienced enough to know the truth, and the truth is, it doesn’t matter who you marry, as long as your position is secure. People go. Money stays. It’s the only thing that does.”
Without another word, I let the door close softly behind me. There is no going back now, that much I know for sure.
I never knew how easy it is to escape if you don’t mind leaving nearly everything behind.