1870, Philadelphia, USA.
Martha Whitcomb, the wild child of Philadelphia society, is now a grown woman, independent in wealth and in personality. At twenty-three, still unmarried and childless, she is exposed to constant rumors and ridicule, crushed...
At the rate I've been going lately, there are a good number of chapters lined up and waiting to go. This means I can finally get on a regular writing schedule! For now, I plan to post every Monday and Friday, and we'll see how long that lasts. I have more or less the full story in my head with a few gaps still missing, so let's hope I can keep on trucking :D
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Paradise Reach, Arizona Territory November 4th, 1869
Martha,
I am not all too confidant that coming here would be in your best interest, but I also am aware that I can't change your mind. Still, I would be a liar if I painted a rosier, suportive picture and did not state the truth outrite: this is no place for a civilized person, lady or otherwise. The people here have taken to calling it Purgatory Reach, and I can't say I disagree. Every day I spend here I become more aware of just how badly we were all misled by these Cutler brothers. They are no gentlemen—they are more like the bosses of a criminal gang. At least Rick Cutler is. His younger brother, Frank, if you will pardon my language, is thick as pig shit.
I still have not been able to learn as much as I would want, as the people here are so against the Cutlers and by extention your family that their trust in me is limited. I hope it is not too insulting to suggest, but if you are indeed coming to this Godforsaken place to remain, I would strongly recommend calling yourself by some other name. I don't imagine being a Whitcomb would put you in danger, but you might have an easier time if they think you are somewhat removed from those they hold responsible for their situation. Most of them are calling your family the codfish aristocracy. Again, I apoligize if I have caused offense, but I would not feel right leaveing you in the dark about this.
I am also sorry to say that I am hopelessly inadequit for what your brother asks of me. I can see enough in what little information I have gathered to know that too much of the records are missing, but I don't know enough to know exactly what they are. In my heart, I would wish Jackson could acompany you, but that will present its own problems. I have done what Whitcomb asked and explained to these business owners that your family adamently condems these "whites only" policys, but they haven't changed their ways, and I have finally learned the reason. Like you, I asumed this was nothing more than bigotry, and there is indeed enough of that, but I have been told that this segrigation is a condition of the leases they have signed with the Cutlers. Many no doubt are happy to carry out the policy, but many others have expressed fear that they will lose their business if they allow blacks. As I have said, they don't trust me much, but perhaps if you or your brother speak to them yourselves, this matter can be resolved. I can only hope, because as it stands, I would estimate a good quarter of the population of Paradise is black and they have one major establishment they are allowed to patrinize. It is a sad sight to see, and I am weary of it. In truth, there is a part of me that wishes to bellow to all of them that I did not go to war and lose my arm so they could find more creative and petty ways to punish and crush these people.
