Chapter 1
1870 - Omaha, Nebraska
"You can't be serious Katniss," my sister Prim says. "You're going to Wyoming Territory to marry a stranger?"
"He's not a stranger," I say as I roll my thick, dark braid into a bun and pin it up at the back of my head. "He's written me three letters."
"Three letters." Prim is indignant. She sits in the chair in my bedroom, her hands resting calmly on her ever-growing belly. "I knew Rory for three years before he even asked to court me."
"Things were different then."
She shakes her head at me, but she knows it's true. Father and Mother were alive. Our family was intact. But a wagon accident a few months after Prim's wedding ended their lives and brought me to live with my sister and brother-in-law.
They are kind, but I see the walls closing in on me. I am twenty-six years old with no prospects for marriage. No opportunity for a home of my own, a life of my own choosing. My sister is expecting and I face a certain future of being nursemaid to her children.
Several months ago I saw an advertisement in the local newspaper. Mr. P. Mellark, age 26, baker, wants a wife. She must be under 30, amiable, and a hard worker. The address was a town in Panem, Wyoming.
No one has ever called me amiable but I am under thirty and a very hard worker. I write to Mr. Mellark to find out more about his offer. To my surprise he writes back.
Dear Katniss,
I was so pleased to receive your letter. I am happy to tell you about myself. I own a bakery in the town of Panem, Wyoming. My brother Rye runs the general store with his wife Delly, who like your sister is also expecting her first child.
I spend most of my time baking, but when I have free time I enjoy drawing sketches of the nearby Rocky Mountains.
You asked for my description. I am fair-haired and of average height. My eyes are blue.
I would welcome further correspondence with you so we could get to know each other better.
Sincerely,
Peeta Mellark
I write back and tell this man Peeta about my unlady-like interest in hunting, and how proficient I am using a bow and arrows. I mention that I am short with grey eyes and dark hair.
He writes a second letter and tells me that I sound perfectly delightful. He says women in Wyoming are not limited to the traditional female roles. They are in fact practically equal to men now that the territorial government has given them the right to vote. In closing, he tells me dark hair and grey eyes are his very favorite combination.
I write again to say that I'm not the best cook, but I am a fiercely loyal person, and open to adventure.
He writes me a third letter proposing marriage and enclosing enough money to purchase a third class train ticket to Panem on the Union Pacific Railroad.
I am not in love with Peeta. I barely know him. But judging from his letters, he seems to be a decent person, a hard worker, and someone I could grow to care about. Someone who offers this spinster a ray of hope.
I show Prim the money. She is astounded that he would send it to me. "What if you kept it and didn't go? He is far to trusting to make a good husband."
"It's because he likes me," I say smugly. But secretly I think she may be right. He is far too trusting.
Prim looks over all the letters. "He may be nice," she finally says. "But we don't know him."
I tell her it is my choice to make, not hers. She gets angry and schemes to change my mind. She invites Rory's family to dinner and tells them of my plans to move to Wyoming and marry a man I know only through three letters.
Rory's mother laughs at me. She tells me I should have married her oldest son Gale while I had the chance. Gale was interested in me years ago, but I did not return his interest. He is married to a woman named Madge now. Fortunately they live too far away to attend this meal.
When I still am not persuaded to give up my plan to move to Wyoming, Prim tries to convince me with tears. She cries for days on end, so long that I fear for the safety of her unborn child.
Eventually she grows weary of weeping and uses the last weapon in her arsenal.
"Who will comfort you when you have a nightmare?"
"Why Peeta, of course." But it worries me that he will be appalled at the terrifying dreams I've had ever since my parent's demise. I've woken up screaming on many occasions.
At last Prim understands that I am determined to go to Panem. She asks me to stay until her child is born. The baby is due any day, but I worry that if I am here when the babe arrives, I will be tricked or trapped into staying.
"I'm leaving in two weeks," I tell my sister. I go to the train station and purchase a ticket. Then I write a letter to Peeta to tell him that I have accepted his proposal. I give him the date of my arrival so he can meet me at the Panem station.
I spend the next two weeks packing my belongings, squeezing my clothing and all my keepsakes, including my bow and arrows and a special book my father made cataloguing plants into one bag and a large truck. My nephew is born three days before I am scheduled to leave which gives me time to visit with the child, but also means my sister is unable to see me off.
Rory takes me to the station and helps me get my bag and trunk to the porter who loads them onto the train.
"Goodbye Katniss," he tells me. "Be sure to write us once you get there."
I nod, and climb aboard. I take a seat next to the window and wave at my brother-in-law as the train pulls away.
I sit back pondering my future. I am excited to be starting this new chapter in my life, although nervous to meet my betrothed.
Traveling on a train is interesting business. People get on and off at every stop. Some people may ride with you for the entire journey, others for only hours. The only person who stays in the train car with me the two days it takes to get to Wyoming is a paunchy, middle-aged man with graying hair. I think he is drunk most of the time.
Consumption of alcohol is not allowed in the cars, but he leaves often to use the facilities and returns with his face red and his eyes bloodshot. He reeks of spirits.
As for me, I have packed bread, and cheese, and fruit. A man comes through the car selling hot coffee and pastries. I purchase some coffee each day. I notice my drunken neighbor never does.
It is a rough journey on the tracks. The train bounces from side to side. It is difficult to sleep sitting up, especially if someone is seated next to me, but I survive.
However, when the train pulls into the station in Panem, I am tired and disheveled. I am embarrassed that Peeta will see me in such a condition. But then I remember his kind letters, which I have reread at least a hundred times over the course of this journey and I am reminded of what a kind and decent person he is.
The porter carries my trunk off and sets it on the platform next to the bag I carried.
I leave my bag next to it and peek my head into the tiny station. Other than the stationmaster who stands behind the ticket counter, it's empty. I suppose Peeta is late, or maybe he was already here and left because the train is late. I don't have a watch so I can't be sure.
To my surprise my drunken companion has exited the train also.
"Looking for someone sweetheart," he says. It's the first words he's spoken in two days.
I stare at him for a moment, before answering. "Peeta Mellark is meeting me here."
The man nods. "His shop is right down the street. I'll take you there in a minute." He goes inside the station and leaves his bag behind the counter. "I'll be right back Thom," he says before returning to my side.
I am pleased at the friendliness of Panem. I pick up my bag and my fellow passenger drags my trunk.
He doesn't talk while we walk down the dirt street, likely because he's sweating profusely.
When we reach the bakery, he drops the trunk onto the ground.
"Thank you Mr.," I pause waiting for him to introduce himself.
He stares at me for a moment and then answers, " Abernathy, Haymitch Abernathy."
"Thank you Mr. Abernathy."
"Your welcome." He hesitates a moment before continuing, "if you don't mind me asking, how do you know Peeta?"
I smile nervously. "He is my fiancé."
Mr. Abernathy has a strange look on his face. "Does he know about it?"
"Of course," I say, angrily. "He wrote a proposal letter to me."
"Interesting," the man says. "Well, good day."
He leaves me in front of the bakery and I stand outside gathering up the courage to open the door and meet my husband-to-be. I put my hand in the pocket of my dress and touch Peeta's letters once more for luck. Leaving my luggage in front of the bakery, I push the door open.
The bakery is small. It looks more like a storeroom than a bakeshop as it's filled with sacks of flour and barrels of sugar. Baked goods sit on a shelf along the wall. There is a door open at the back and a man walks inside. He wears dark pants and a faded gingham shirt. He is average height with blonde hair. His eyes are bright blue and he is clean-shaven. He is surprisingly handsome, more so than I ever would have guessed. I think it will be easy to love him.
My heart is pounding. "Peeta, I thought you would meet me at the station."
A puzzled look crosses his face. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
He mustn't have received my letter yet. Well, he's certainly going to be surprised.
"It's me, Katniss."
I watch his face. It is clear from his expression that he has absolutely no idea who I am. What has happened? I put my hand to my head. I think I may faint.
He stands staring at me, but rushes to my side as I start to fall sideways. He catches me and drags me over to a barrel to sit down.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes." But all I can do is wonder who has played this awful trick on me. I feel like a fool. I pull the letters out of my pocket and hand them to him without saying a word.
He reads through them quickly. His face changes from bewilderment to anger. He rushes off with the letters out of the back door of the bakeshop.
I take a few deep breaths and stand up. I brush off my skirt and walk out the back door, as well. Where has Peeta gone?
I hear shouting coming from the building next door.
It's Peeta and I hear him plainly. "Delly, she's not very big or particularly pretty. I am not marrying her."
Author's Note: There was a shortage of single women in the western portion of the United States during the 19th century because most women who traveled west were married. After the U.S. Civil War ended in 1865, newspapers took on the role of matchmaking forums to bring these women west, and letters became the means of courtship. The transcontinental railroad, which was completed in 1869, played a role in bringing the couples together.
In 1869 voting rights were granted to women in Wyoming Territory by the territorial legislature.