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Heading south, they were greeted with a bit of sleet. Both women were bundled in layers of winter clothes. Molly even wore long underwear under her wool skirts. Erin made sure her man’s coat was buttoned shut and the scarf Molly had knitted her long ago was wrapped around her neck and over her hat to keep it from blowing away. She was sure she could feel the coolness along her neck from her missing hair. King helped keep the herd under control. Her butt was going to hurt riding these wide farm horses, and Molly agreed they should trade for or buy a good riding horse, something they could breed at some point. A nice mare or even a stallion would work, if they could acquire one without paying a mint.
Because of the slow pace of the oxen, it took longer than the allotted half day to get to Melville. Finding an abandoned farm where the house had burned down but they could corral the horses and cows, they made a temporary camp, intending to spend the night. Leaving the dogs to guard the wagon and animals, they headed into town and visited the orphanage.
“Hello. I’m Erin Herriot, and this is my wife.” She hesitated only briefly over introducing Molly as her ‘wife.’ “We are looking to adopt a child or maybe two?”
The woman looked at them for a moment, examining their winter clothes and judging them slightly, before excusing herself to find the director of their facility. Both Erin and Molly fidgeted in apprehension over the ruse they were about to perpetrate. They justified it, telling themselves they would be giving a good home to a child. There was no rule saying two women couldn’t raise a child or two, and there was evidence in the Bible that it had been done.
“Hello, I’m Mr. Engle. I understand you would like to adopt a child?” A tall, austere-looking man stood before them, holding out his hand to Erin.
For a brief second, she hesitated, unused to shaking a man’s hand except to conclude a deal. She smiled winningly and grasped it, wincing slightly at the firm grip and resolving to practice, so she didn’t make this kind of mistake again. “Yes, me and the missus had a farm up near Stouten.”
“Had?” he asked, puzzled.
“Yes. We just sold it and are heading down to Missouri to join a wagon train and get a bigger farm out in Oregon.”
“Ah, yes. A lot of the country seems to be moving,” he smiled. “Are there people in Stouten who would vouch for you? Are you God-fearing folks?”
“Oh, yes,” Molly answered, sensing that Erin was feeling overwhelmed. “We’ve lived there our whole lives. Erin inherited the farm from her...his father and grew up there with his brothers.” She hoped that Mr. Engle didn’t catch the slip she had just made.
“Well, we have some fine children here. They’re just waiting for young folks such as yourself to take them in,” he kept smiling, endeavoring to be friendly. Both Molly and Erin found him slightly creepy. “I’ll need to see your marriage certificate or some sort of identification, but we can at least show you the children for now. Because of the weather, they are indoors. We insist the children get plenty of fresh air,” he informed them jovially. “We have them go outdoors at least once a day in weather like this but more when the weather is fine. It’s so important for good health and hearty constitutions.”
They both nodded, a little shocked that they would send children out in a sleet storm like this but saying nothing. They were escorted into a room where children were being taught their sums. The teacher looked at them, aggrieved, her lips pursed in disapproval. All the children were under the age of ten.
“Why are there no older children?” Molly asked, looking about the room as they left.
“Oh, you wanted an older child? At ten, they are sent to the workhouse. We can’t keep them here too long, and they need to earn their way.”
Realizing how horrible that sounded, Erin determined to rescue at least one child from this fate.
“I suppose on a farm you want an able-bodied young man to help out with the chores,” he continued, assuming. “I can take you over to the workhouse and introduce you....”
“No, we would like a younger child, maybe two,” Erin forestalled him, sickened that this was nothing more than slave labor he was talking about. She knew her own brothers had worked like knaves on the farm, but that was expected. It was what they were raised with, and they didn’t know any better.
“Two? Well, we do have siblings here in the orphanage that would benefit from that, if you are interested?” They both nodded to show they were. “Are you sure you wish to adopt? You are young enough to have some of your own–” he began but Erin interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him from continuing.
“I had the mumps as a teen and I won’t be having any children,” she said matter-of-fact, hoping the man would drop the subject. It made her uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t know that.
“Ah, I see,” he answered musingly. “We have a playroom here, and the children sleep on the mats you see...” he started telling them but stopped himself to yell, “You there! Pick that up.” He went over to assert his authority.
Both women were startled when he started berating what must have been a six-year-old child. He was so enjoying himself he must have forgotten he had two potential parents waiting on him. A soft voice asked them, “Are you looking to adopt?”
They looked toward the voice and saw an older girl of about sixteen. They both nodded, and she smiled. “I know most don’t want an older girl, and I should be in the workhouse, but I help out here with the children. I can recommend a couple if you want.”
“Please do,” Molly murmured, her heart going out to the young girl. She was only a few years younger than herself.
“Are you looking for a boy or a girl?”
“Either or both. We’d probably prefer one of each,” Molly turned to Erin, who nodded in agreement.
“Well, those young’uns over there...” she continued rapidly, trying to tell them as much as possible before Mr. Engle returned.
“Mary, you get back to your duties,” he said when he returned. He looked annoyed, and Molly hastened to distract him before he could berate the young girl, throwing a smile of gratitude to the girl before she turned away. “Mr. Engle, do you know which children are brothers and sisters? I think my husband and I like the idea of keeping a family together.”
“I’ll have to check my records, of course,” he murmured and then saw another woman entering the room. “Ah, Miss Jenkins. Why were the children left unattended?”
“My apologies, Mr. Engle. We had a cut that needed tending, and we had to stop in the privy,” she said meaningfully.
“The Herriots here are looking for a couple of children to adopt, preferably a brother and sister. They are farmers.”
“That sounds nice,” the cherubic-faced woman smiled, showing badly gapped teeth. “I’m sure the Harris children would be a fine addition to your family.”
“Which ones are those?” Mr. Engle asked, importantly.
“Why these two over here and–”
“Why don’t we introduce them to the Herriots and see how they get along,” he interrupted meaningfully, sending a warning glance to the woman.
Erin and Molly were introduced to the two young children, one was at least four and the other six. A boy and a girl, they were slightly dirty and wearing castoff clothing that was ill-fitting. They looked sad, but Molly managed to get a giggle out of the little girl.
“This is Tommy, and that is Theresa,” the woman introduced them. The adults stood back, so Erin and Molly could get to know the children a little better, then sat down on a chair as Molly made the effort to talk to the shy children. Erin stood back too. She knew this was how most men would behave, but that didn’t stop her from looking the children over from head to toe. She was vaguely aware that Mr. Engle and Miss Jenkins were watching them too, and she didn’t want to make a mistake that would give her identity away. She was self-conscious as it was, her hand going to the back of her head, petting where the large knot of hair had been just a day ago. She still wasn’t used to the weight of her hair being gone. She’d caught a glimpse in the mirror back at the farm, and Molly was right. She looked completely different without her long hair.
They were there for a while, talking to other children. There were other rooms, some with older children, some others in classes learning to read or write the minimum, and there was another room with toddlers. All the children looked slightly neglected with their ill-fitting clothes, many with dirty faces and unkempt hair. Some looked sickly and some had an ominous cough. Molly looked longingly at the babies they were shown, but they had agreed a baby would be impractical with the long trip they were about to embark on.
“We’ll be back, Mr. Engle,” Erin said, holding out her hand. Only the fact that it was large, work-roughened, and callused kept the man from realizing it was a woman’s hand.
“You do that. We’ll be here,” he said with forced friendliness. He frowned, something was niggling at him, but when he couldn’t put his finger on it he dismissed the thought. If the couple could afford to adopt two children, it would be two less mouths he had to feed on the pittance the state sent them to survive on.
“We need to find a preacher,” Erin said as soon as they left the orphanage.
“You think some preacher will marry us?” Molly asked, low, so no one would overhear them. She sounded excited.
“I think for the right amount of donation, one would.” They sought out a couple of preachers but could tell from their attitudes that they were pious or devout and would have had nothing to do with the idea if they had been bold enough to put it before them. Getting worried, they were relieved to find a church on the way back to the abandoned farm. Stopping, hoping this last one might be able to help them, they first thought it was empty on this inclement weather day.
“Hello, hello,” said a voice, and they were surprised at the wrinkled old man before them.
“Oh, hello,” Erin answered, forgetting to slow her voice and make it a tad deeper. “We’re looking for the preacher?”
“That would be me. I’m Reverend Styles, and you are...?”
“I’m Erin Herriot. This is Molly Pierce. We are looking for someone that can marry us?”
“Marry you?” he said, surprised, peering at them through dirty glasses. He glanced outside at the inclement weather. He looked from one to the other and then asked, “You ain’t running from anything or anyone are you? Your folks okay with you gettin’ hitched?”
Erin laughed, covering up her awkwardness. “No, sir. Our folks are both dead. We been living together for nigh on two and a half years and thought we should make it all legal.”
“Two and a half years?!” he asked, astonished. “You’re right, young...man! It is about time!” Was it their imaginations or had he hesitated at addressing Erin as a young man? “I’ll be happy to hitch you. Let me call to my wife. Our house is out back.”
“Your wife, Reverend?” Molly asked, confused.
“You need a witness or two,” he smiled at her. “Alma?” he called through a door they hadn’t noticed behind the small pulpit.
“Yes, dear?” a voice could be heard somewhere in the distance.
“We got a couple here who need a witness. Can you fetch–”
“Oh, I have the Radissons visiting. They can witness too,” the pleasant voice interrupted.
“That’s fine. That’s fine,” he answered, rubbing his hands together. “You all can come in here and we can take care of this.”
Three people came through the door. One was the tiniest of women, standing maybe four-foot-eight. Along with her was a couple who looked curiously at Erin and Molly.
Introductions were made all around, and Molly discreetly removed her grandmother’s ring, so it could be blessed by the reverend. Erin had never held much sway about church, but the words binding her to Molly, even though she knew that the reverend thought she was a man, meant more to her than anything she had said in her life. She could tell Molly was nervous; her hands were shaking and there was a telltale tear in each of her eyes as she looked up and repeated her vows. Their kiss of peace was soon interrupted as they were congratulated by the Radissons and the Reverend Styles and his wife. Soon enough, they had a paper that stated they had been married.
“I’ll just adjust the date a little since you been livin’ together,” the Reverend stated, his disapproval over this news obvious in his voice as he predated the document. “It’s Erin, not Aaron?” he confirmed as he filled in the names. The Radissons and his wife had already signed the witness lines. “Many people don’t know this, but the name Erin is Irish and means Ireland. They think it might be a girl’s name,” he teased as he wrote out the certificate. “Personally, I like the name. It’s a strong man’s name. Now, you’re married before God and man,” he indicated his wife and the Radissons, who had moved off and not heard his conversation with the young couple. “I wish a blessing on this union and that you be fruitful and multiply,” he said earnestly. He had a few more questions for them, meeting his need for information and gossip. They were careful with their answers but answered as honestly as they could. They finally had to say their goodbyes as they hurried back to the abandoned farm, the animals no worse for wear and the dogs diligently guarding them.
“Well, that was a fine howdy-do,” Molly stated, carefully storing their wedding certificate in a leather satchel where they kept all their important papers. “What about this?” she asked, showing Erin’s birth certificate with her full name and birth date, which stated she was a girl.
“Hide it. Maybe we should burn it?” she stated. She was just thrilled that they had a legal paper that stated they were married, something she had never thought would be possible. She didn’t realize that when she had taken off her hat in the church, the short haircut that Molly had given her had really changed her appearance. The long hair that had been kept back in a bun had always been what gave her away, and even then, some hadn’t always been too sure.
“Maybe there is some way to change it,” Molly put in musingly, not willing to burn a legal document.
“Well, all we need for the orphanage is the marriage certificate. I really liked those two children we met...What were their names? Harris? That’s easily changed to Herriot.” She grabbed the birth certificate. Her mother’s name lovingly written there, her signature in a copperplate script that Erin could spot from a mile away. She’d seen it in the family Bible, her own father’s signature a scrawl compared her mother’s beautiful writing. Sighing, she put it on the fire to destroy the evidence of her birth. She knew there was a copy somewhere, and of course, people in Stouten knew she was born a girl, but from now on, she was Erin Herriot, husband of Molly.
“Oh, don’t,” Molly protested and would have reached for the document, but Erin pulled her back.
“Let it go,” she said. She knew the only real evidence they had with them that she was a woman was in the family Bible and most wouldn’t think of that.
They prepared for a night of sleeping in the wagon. The mattresses from their bed had gone on top of all the supplies and things they were hauling. Closing the front and back of the wagon cover, they were able to keep the weather out. They snuggled under the abundant blankets and quilts they had brought, grateful for them as their body heat helped warm the space. Both dogs and the pigs settled down under the wagon. Erin had left the poultry in their cages but set them out on grass, so they could peck and settle down.