An Uninvited Bride on his Doorstep by Ava Winters
Chapter Six
Dear Miss Alston,
When I saw your advertisement in Prairie Confidential, I had to reply. My name is Jack Williams. I am a cattle rancher with a spread near Laramie, Wyoming. My ranch is prospering greatly, and I have all I need except the companionship of a good woman.
I am 25, a widower. My dear wife passed away recently, and though I am content, I find I need the companionship of a good woman to be completely happy. I am six feet tall, with dark hair and eyes. While I do not like to seem vainglorious, I have been called attractive by others.
Rose’s eyes widened in surprise. A week had passed from her first advertisement. Mr. Williams had been the first man to reply, and she was astonished to find that he didn’t sound fat and ugly at all. In fact, he sounded like just the sort of man she was looking for.
He lived in Laramie, Wyoming, though—far from her home.
I enjoy a quiet evening at home playing cards with friends, or sometimes going out to dine. I lead a quiet life, and you will be glad to hear that Laramie is mostly a quiet town now, as well. The pack of sharpers and tramps that once made our town a dangerous place are gone now, and every law-abiding citizen in Laramie was happy to see them go.
I can supply a likeness, if you would like to see one.
Sincerely,
Jack Williams.
Rose stared at the letter, and a wild hope leaped up in her heart. Maybe her plight wasn’t as desperate as she’d feared; and she hurried to her aunt’s desk to scratch out a reply.
Dear Mr. Williams,
I would be happy to learn more about you, and to receive a letter containing your likeness. I live in Bonner Springs, near Kansas City. As I said in my advertisement, I am 18, a little over 5 feet 6 inches, and I have blonde hair and a fair complexion.
I lived with my aunt until very recently. She was a good, God-fearing woman who taught me all the things a young woman should know; how to cook and bake, how to sew and mend, how to run a household.
I live a quiet life, too. Most of my social life is at church and among my friends. There aren’t a lot of people my age in town, so my circle of friends is small, but close.
I enjoy reading books, and going on picnics, and sometimes to square dances. I love music and would like to learn the piano.
Sincerely,
Rose Alston.
Rose signed the letter carefully, blotted the ink, and folded the letter up. As she slipped Jack Williams’s letter back into its envelope, she noticed another piece of paper tucked inside. She frowned and pulled it out. It was from Prairie Confidential.
To our subscribers,
We at the staff of the Prairie Confidential regret to announce a change in our schedule of fees. We are now charging each correspondent per letter, at a rate of a dollar a letter.
Rose’s mouth fell open in outrage. A dollar a letter was highway robbery! A dollar was what some people earned for a whole day’s work and paying it would burn through her dwindling money like fire through hay.
Still…if her connection with Jack Williams turned out like she hoped, a dollar or two might be a good investment, as expensive as it was; and if she wanted to see what he looked like, she was going to have to write back.
On the other hand, if she didn’t write back, Jack might get discouraged and stop writing to her.
Rose bit her lip, opened the little metal box on the desk, and fished out a dollar. She sat there staring at it for a long moment but ended up stuffing it into an envelope with her reply letter before sealing it. She picked up a pen, dipped it into an inkwell, and carefully wrote out the address of the Prairie Confidential on the envelope.
It was just too good a chance to pass up. Jack had described himself as young, tall, dark and…good looking. It would only take a tiny nudge to make her fall in love with such a man. If he was as reasonable and clean-living as he’d made himself out to be, living happily ever after with him would be easy.
Rose bit her lips into a straight, determined line. She wasn’t going to stop writing until she’d seen Jack’s picture and learned a little more about him, anyway. If he offered her marriage, all her troubles would be over. She would not have to worry about anything anymore, and—Rose closed her eyes rapturously—she would have won a love of her own in spite of finding it in a strange way.
It was the happy ending that mattered, after all, not the way it came about.
Rose fished a stamp out of a drawer, licked the back, and pressed it onto the envelope; then she rose and hurried out to the mailbox to slide it carefully inside and set herself to wait for Jack Williams’s reply.
***
The letter took more than four days to arrive, and Rose could hardly keep herself from checking the mailbox several times a day in the meantime to see if it had arrived. Miss Barrett noticed her one day, as she was outside working in her garden.
“What’s wrong with you, child?” she called, and shaded her eyes with one hand. “That makes the third time today I’ve seen you going to that mailbox!”
Rose felt herself going red, but she walked over to the fence, squinted up at her neighbor in the bright Kansas sun, and confided. “I did like you said, Miss Barrett. I put out a mail order bride ad.”
A look of pity flicked over the older woman’s thin face. “It’s for the best, child, you’ll see. And who’s to say but that you’ll find a young man that you like a lot? I hear there’s lots of young men looking for brides out west.”
“Yes ma’am.”
As they stood there, the mailman’s rig appeared, a tiny, distant dot carving out a path between two massive fields of sunflowers, like a rowboat crossing an ocean. They watched as the buggy slowly grew larger and finally pulled to a stop at the Alston mailbox.
Rose clasped her hands nervously as the skinny mailman tipped his hat to them, opened the box, and put a sheaf of letters into it.
“Afternoon, Elmer,” Miss Barrett called.
“Ladies.”
Rose bit her lip and looked down at the ground as he shook the reins, and the buggy moved on to Miss Barrett’s box; but as soon as his rig disappeared down the road, Rose picked up her skirts and half-ran to the mailbox.
She yanked it open, pulled out the letters, and riffled through them with shaking fingers. To her delight, a letter marked from Prairie Confidential was among them.
Miss Barrett called to her from the fence. “Did you get a letter, child?”
Rose looked up happily and nodded, and her neighbor smiled.
“Excuse me, Miss Barrett,” she called, and hurried back to the porch, up the steps, across the porch, and into the house. She sank down into her stuffed chair and opened the envelope eagerly. She pulled out the letter, and a small daguerreotype fell out onto her lap.
She lifted it with open-mouthed delight. The young man in the picture was exactly like the man she saw in her dream. His hair was dark and thick and rose over his brow like a black wave. His brows were thick and dark, his eyes were black and ringed with sooty lashes. He had high cheekbones, a strong, straight nose, full, chiseled lips, and a square, stubborn jaw.
His shoulders were broad, and he had a wide, manly chest covered in a high-collared shirt and a cowboy jacket.
Rose swallowed and licked her lips. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she unfolded the letter.
Dear Miss Alston,
I was glad to get your letter. You sound like a very sweet young lady. Let me tell you a little more about myself. I own a spread just outside Laramie, the Forget-Me-Not Ranch.
It is a big country out here, and the land lays real pretty. My ranch has plenty of creeks and water on it, and we can see the mountains from the house.
The ranch house is big and pretty. There is plenty of room in it, and my late wife had the inside fixed up real nice.
We are doing well; the ranch has 10,000 head of cattle, and a herd of 500 horses, and there is a good market for our cattle. I mention this not to brag, but to show that I can offer my wife a good, comfortable life.
Rose’s mouth fell open. What is he trying to say? Is he trying to propose to me?
She read on eagerly:
I included my own picture. It is a recent likeness. Miss Alston, if you do not object, I would be interested to receive your likeness, as well.
Rose lowered the letter in staring shock. Why…I think he’s interested in me. Maybe even a little bit serious!
She dropped the letter, hurried into her own bedroom, and opened the back of a little frame on her bedside table. Her aunt had splurged and had her portrait taken when a daguerreotype artist had come to town the summer before. Rose stared down at her own face in the portrait and bit her lip. She had been wearing the best dress she owned, a pretty pink pinstripe, and her hair had been pulled back in a ponytail with a big pink ribbon.
The outfit made her look like a schoolgirl; and Rose fretted over it, but she had no choice but to send the picture. It was the only one she had of herself as an adult. She carried it back to the little office, sat down at the desk, and picked up the letter again.
I picture you as a sweet young lady, Miss Alston, and I would be willing to wager that you are as pretty as you sound.
Rose blushed in delight. Jack Williams was clearly a romantic and knew how to make a girl feel special. She read on:
I hope to hear from you soon. I look forward to your letters very much.
Warmly,
Jack Williams.
Rose leaned back in her chair and blinked at the page. Last time he signed off, sincerely, she thought excitedly. This time, he signed off warmly. He is interested in me!
Rose reached hurriedly for another sheet of paper, and then for a pen. As she wrote out the first lines of her reply, the thought occurred to her that it would be another dollar to the Prairie Confidential; but it didn’t irritate her anymore.
She was hoping that soon, she would be a rancher’s wife and that it would not make any difference how much she spent.
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