The Mythmaker's Bride

By John J. Law

I was born in April 15, in the year of our Lord 1844, to James Edward and Amelia Evanston. Edward was a farmer, and occasional woodworker, while Amelia was a good and dutiful wife. They made for a very handsome couple, and I was their eldest. A few years after my birth, they were blessed with their second child, Christopher. We lived in our small homestead for many years, and Christopher and I, were raised there by our parents, as best as they could. Those were the happiest years of my life, and I would not trade their memories for anything.
Unfortunately, such happy memories were cut short when raiding Indians attacked our homestead, took our parents' supplies, and killed my parents before my very eyes. Father did try to chase off the Indians, and I daresay, did fight valiantly, and with all the courage he could muster. I could still remember him grabbing his hammer and bludgeoning one of the invading Indians on the head with it. He took that one down, but there were four of them, and the other three simply shot poor Pa to pieces before us. Ma screamed and could do nothing as she joined Pa in the Great Beyond.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Hulsey Books
• Release date: Dec 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223381419

Book preview

Prologue:

The Persistent Mrs. Weinstein.

A good day to all, and may the Good Lord bless and keep us all in His Holy Presence. My name is Marie Evanston and these are my memoirs. 

I have found myself of a mind to write down my life experiences and all that I have been through. One of my new acquaintances, Mrs. Weinstein insists that I write down everything that I experienced when I was a captive of the Lakatani Tribe. Mrs. Weinstein absolutely insists that I write my story, saying people ought to know what really happened back then. Personally, if you ask me, I do believe that Mrs. Weinstein has grown just a little too fond of me. I guess I am the daughter she never really had, and she tends to romanticize me a little too much. After all, who would ever bother to read about the exploits of a simple dame like myself? 

Mrs. Weinstein would always chastise me in that motherly tone of hers, every time I belittled my life and what I had been through. 

You've got a wonderful story that the world will someday want to hear, Marie, she would always say.

To wit I would reply with much modesty. I cannot write the story of my life, Mrs. Weinstein. I was raised a strong Christian woman, and I tried hard to live virtuously. To wit, I failed miserably in my attempts at living a pure and chaste life. No, Mrs. Weinstein, I cannot write my memoirs. It would only bring shame and disgrace to my already tainted name."

I can still remember how Mrs. Weinstein would smile and look upon me with loving and understanding eyes. She would always shake her head and reassure me again.

You're much too modest, Marie. You've lived the kind of life that people sing songs and write ballads about. Someday, someone will read your memoirs, and they will look back at what you've been through. They'll look back with much kinder eyes than the eyes that judge you now. Look around Marie, times are changing. The railways have brought progress and development in so many areas. I'm sure people will think and live differently than we can ever imagine now. Besides, it's not right to judge. Only the Good Lord can do that, and He says so explicitly in the Good Book.

That was Mrs. Weinstein for you. She seemed to think and behave in far more advanced ways than her age would show. She did say that she never married, nor had any children. For this, I do feel sorry for her, not only because she never felt the joys of having children, but also because she would have made a fine mother with her independent way of thinking, along with her natural motherly charm. Perhaps, that is why she wanted me to write these memoirs so badly. Perhaps, it's because Mrs. Weinstein actually wanted to see and experience the things that I