The Scars of a Pure Heart

by Grace Clemens

  I’m reluctant, though, to say wedding vows that I do not mean. In my mind, it would be dishonest to make promises only to cancel them a little while later. If you are only willing to marry me with this plan, I’m afraid I must decline. I wish to marry for life. That is what God intended when he created marriage and I cannot make light of it.

  Is it possible that you might reconsider? Might we be married in earnest?

  Yours, Macie Sheldon

  Alone in his room, Blake reread the short missive. Would he reconsider? He ran a hand over his face wearily. Ever since he’d first read this letter the previous day, it was all he could think about. Troy had even commented on how distracted Blake was when the two were mending fences that morning.

  The ability to have his marriage annulled was the only thing that had allowed him to post the ad in the first place. He’d known plenty of girls in his life, yet Blake had never met one he wanted to marry. The thought of being tied down to some girl, even a very pretty girl, had chafed. Would this Macie Sheldon try to tie him down and keep him close to home?

  An idea struck Blake and he sat back, mind whirling. Of course, if Iver Kennedy went ahead with the plan as it stood, an annulment would remain a possibility. Blake could enter into a marriage with the intent of sticking with his wife unless things took a turn for the worse. He’d always have the ability to call it off down the road. And Macie wouldn’t need to know that right now.

  Pushing aside his conscience’s insistence that this was a very bad idea, Blake reached for a pencil and a fresh piece of paper.

  ***

  Dear Miss Sheldon,

  I find it encouraging that you are such a godly woman. Yes, I have reconsidered and agree that marrying with the intent to build a life together would be wise.

  That being said, I do have a request to make of you. Please say nothing about Granddad’s will to my family. As you may recall, my father, Len Bradfield, is now the owner of the Yellow Rose Ranch. After my grandmother passed, Granddad handed over the running of the ranch to my father. Pa grew to resent Granddad for abandoning the family. They argued whenever they were in the same room and, by the end, they hardly spoke to one another.

  I don’t fully understand why my family was so opposed to my grandfather’s adventures. But, I do know that if they learn about the treasure map, I won’t hear the end of it. And they’d never approve of you if they learn it’s related to Granddad’s adventuring that I’m taking a wife.

  My plan is to come to meet you when your train arrives and take you to meet my family. I’ll introduce you as my betrothed. When my family asks, I’ll just tell them that you and I have been corresponding and you wanted to come back to Elmswood, so we decided to get married.

  My parents keep telling me I need to settle down. They’ll be shocked at first, but pleased, too, once they get used to the idea. If they don’t give us their blessing, we’ll call the whole thing off. As promised, I’ll make sure you’re well looked after in town should our marriage not work out as planned.

  In your first letter, you suggested that we get to know each other a bit. I suppose you should know that I aspire to live as my grandfather did: free to come and go as I please. Ever since I was a boy, I’ve wanted to see the world. If you marry me, you need to know that I don’t want to settle down and be a rancher in Texas. I’m not sure just what I’ll do, but it won’t be staying put and seeing the same people and scenery for the rest of my life.

  You mentioned that the inheritance is strange and you’re right. But Granddad knew how I felt and I believe that this treasure map is his way of letting me live the life I’ve always dreamed of. You might choose to come along with me on my travels or stay with my family while I go off for long stretches.

  Are you interested in traveling to new places?

  Sincerely, Blake Bradfield

  No, Macie thought vehemently, she was not interested in traveling to new places. The only place she wanted to go was back to her old home. In fact, the promise of seeing the ranch and finally beginning to let her heart heal was the only thing that allowed her to be brave enough to travel all the way to Texas by herself. The thought of the long trip was enough to make Macie sick to her stomach.

  Around her, the congregation sang along to the pounding of the pipe organ. Macie mouthed the words but couldn’t marshal her thoughts long enough to truly sing along. And once Reverend Alden began his droning homily, there was no chance of paying attention. Macie lifted up a silent prayer of apology for her inattention and then began to pour her heart out to God.

  Was this a terrible mistake? She lifted her face to the ceiling high above. The desire to return to Elmswood was so strong that it was causing her to doubt her usually good judgment. Blake Bradfield didn’t want a home or a wife. He just wanted the treasure map and permission to go off gallivanting. Was agreeing to marry him wrong somehow?

  Now that she thought about it, there were plenty of people in the Bible who married for all kinds of reasons. It seemed to Macie that the reasons why a couple married weren’t nearly as important as their commitment to their vows.

  She could promise to honor Blake, couldn’t she? After all, she’d noticed that he had some admirable qualities. Though he spoke of wanting to be away from his family’s way of life, he certainly cared about having their blessing for his marriage. And their estrangement from Ewell hadn’t stopped Blake from working and living with his parents, who felt differently about his grandfather than he did.

  Macie clasped and unclasped her gloved hands as the reverend boomed on from the elaborate pulpit at the front of the most fashionable church in Hartford. She looked around covertly at all the people who were here wearing their very best clothes, eager to be seen as proper and religious. Though the pews were full, there was little life in this church or its people.

  If she stayed here and married a man from this world, would Macie eventually become just like the socialites around her? She hated the idea. She knew exactly what she would get if she stayed here. Going west was more of a risk, but there was also the possibility of a great reward.

  What if marrying Blake meant that she could escape the cold, stiff relationships that everyone in Hartford’s fashionable society seemed to have here? Lorna would be leaving soon. She’d narrowed her options to two men and it wouldn’t take her long to make up her mind as to which one she would marry. Then Macie would be left alone with Aunt Jane as she lamented Lorna’s sudden departure. How empty the house would feel with Lorna gone!

  But what held Macie back wasn’t fear that Blake might prefer adventuring to staying home. Secretly, she couldn’t help but worry that he would find her scars unappealing. It would be so awful to see the shocked look cross his face that had crossed other suitors’ faces before him. Macie wasn’t sure if she could bear it if her own husband found her ugly.

  She closed her eyes for a moment against the rush of emotion this line of thought always brought. It was so real and still so foolish. She knew that her appearance didn’t matter nearly as much as her character. With time, Macie hoped that Blake would find her to be kind and clever and a good helpmate. None of that hinged upon her looks.

  But she’d experienced too much rejection to be able to stop from worrying. And so, even though she knew it to be little more than vanity, Macie’s scars kept her from penning the response that she’d come to Elmswood and marry Blake.

  ***

  Dear Mr. Bradfield,

  I believe that I can understand your reasons for wanting to keep the nature of our meeting private for the present. Family history is always complex. If you would like me to keep silent, I will.

  I’m very close to agreeing to marry you. There is just one more thing I feel I must tell you; leaving it unsaid seems false, and the last thing I want is to start a marriage with things unsaid. I hope you don’t find this silly. As I started this letter, I was confident that it was the right thing to do and now I’ve grown quite nervous.

  Here it is: When my family died of sm
allpox five years ago, I also fell ill. I recovered my health even as they lost theirs. To this day, I bear no ill effects of the disease. However, I do have some scarring from the pox on my face. My lower left jaw is pitted enough that there is no way to disguise the scars.

  At the risk of sounding vain, I want you to know that I am in all other regards a normal, fairly pretty woman (or so my cousin Lorna tells me). I hope very much that you are able to overlook this physical flaw.

  If you still wish to after reading this letter, I will marry you. If you would rather end our correspondence and go no further, I will understand and bear you no ill will.

  Your friend, Macie Sheldon

  Standing in the stage office, Blake reached under his Stetson and scratched his forehead. The left side of her face was scarred? He searched the letter for the line. “My lower left jaw”, she’d written. Well, how much of her face would that even be? Blake stood there, trying to imagine caring about something like that. If Macie Sheldon was fairly pretty, that was more than enough for him. Besides, he wasn’t marrying her because he wanted something pretty to look at.

  “Did you need something, Mr. Bradfield?” called Mrs. Oak who was watching him read his letter with amusement.

  Blake’s head snapped up as he came abruptly back to earth. “Oh, no, ma’am. Well, that is to say, I suppose I need to buy a train ticket.”

  Mrs. Oak’s eyes twinkled at him, “I’m afraid we can’t help you with that here.”

  He chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose you can. Thank you again,” Blake said cheerfully and waved the stack of envelopes at her. Then, whistling tunelessly, he turned and headed across the street to the ticket counter at the train depot. How much did a ticket from Connecticut to Texas cost anyhow? And when should he buy it for?

  The station master was a familiar sight to Blake. Mr. Wells had gone to church with the Bradfields since before Blake was born.

  “How can I help you?” the large man asked, his bass voice rumbling.

  Blake felt his ears redden as he explained, “I need to purchase a ticket for a, er, friend.”

  Mr. Wells regarded the younger man. “I see.”

  Embarrassed, the redhead felt sure that the station master had quite accurately read between the lines. Well, if he knew, he knew, Blake reckoned.

  “I’ve been writing to a girl in Connecticut,” he explained, throwing caution to the wind. “She’s agreed to come to town and marry me. I need to buy a ticket to send to her. And, um, I’d like to keep it quiet until she arrives.”

  “You can depend on me,” Mr. Wells said with a wink. He reached for a large book and began to flip through it. “From where in Connecticut is your young lady departing?”

  With an excited squeeze of his stomach, Blake leaned forward and gave the details. It wasn’t more than five minutes later that he headed back to the stage office with Macie’s train ticket in his hand, ready to be dropped in an envelope and sent north to the woman he was going to marry.

  Chapter 7

  The train rumbled along and Macie fanned herself listlessly. She’d been jostling along for more than a week now and was beginning to wonder if the train would ever arrive in Elmswood. Any nerves she felt about traveling alone had been lost in the monotony of travel long ago.

  Aunt Jane had been in a dither from the moment she learned of Lorna’s and Macie’s plans to leave Hartford. Lorna had settled on marrying a man in California and wasted no time informing her mother. Reluctantly, Macie had admitted that she had also agreed to be a mail order bride.

  “Why? Why must you run off to the wilderness to marry a stranger? There are plenty of suitable men here in Connecticut!” Aunt Jane had demanded tearfully.

  Macie remembered Lorna’s calm reply, “Mama, I’ve been out in society for eight years and I’ve yet to find a man I want to marry. It’s taken some time, but I realized that I don’t want this life of paying calls and going to balls. I know that you are perfectly happy here. So are my sisters. But I’m not happy with this. I want a different life. You can accept that and enjoy our last week together or you can spend that time trying to convince me to stay. I have to warn you though: I’m not changing my mind.”

  Once Aunt Jane saw that this was a battle she would not win, she’d turned to Macie. But Lorna had paved the way and it didn’t take Macie nearly as long to convince her aunt that she, too, was going.

  True to form, Aunt Jane then threw herself into helping the girls prepare for their departures. She’d ordered new cotton dresses to be made, purchased all sorts of goods she insisted weren’t available in “the wild,” and added some items she’d been collecting for their trousseaus. All this was packed into a sturdy trunk for each young woman.

  As the train whistle sounded mournfully, Macie found that tears were gathering in her eyes at the recollection of her aunt’s kindness. Truly, Aunt Jane had only ever wanted what she thought best for her daughter and niece. It wasn’t her fault that the girls had wanted to carve their own paths.

  “Elmswood! Next stop Elmswood!” the conductor called as he passed through the train car.

  Sitting up straight, Macie’s heart leapt. She’d changed trains a dozen times and traveled through countless small-town stations. For days she’d watched people disembark and be greeted by friends and family. Now, it was finally her turn. Would Blake be waiting for her? This morning, she’d sent a telegram to him to announce that she would be arriving by mid afternoon if everything stayed on schedule. She pressed her lips together, fairly quivering in her seat, and hoped fervently that her groom-to-be would be standing on the platform when she alighted.

  ***

  Never in his life had Blake been so nervous; at least, not as far as he could recall. He’d paced his cabin at the ranch until he thought it was reasonable to leave for town. Now he couldn’t keep himself from pacing the train station’s small platform. Mr. Wells kept eying the younger man knowingly, which only made Blake pace faster.

  He swung wildly from being certain that this was a terrible mistake to thrilled at the fact that he was growing ever closer to finally getting his hands on Granddad’s map. Then he’d start fretting that Macie might be difficult and demanding. No, surely she’d be good natured. She’d seemed accommodating in her letters, hadn’t she?

  Back and forth Blake went, both mentally and across the wooden platform. The June sun beat down mercilessly on the tall Texan, but he hardly noticed. Every movement off in the distance made his heart stutter. His attention was so completely focused on the train tracks that Blake had unwittingly ignored greetings from three different acquaintances who rode past.

  There! Could it be? Two long strides and Blake was at the edge of the platform, squinting off down the tracks. Was that a cloud of steam? He strained his ears for a distant whistle.

  Painstakingly slowly the train chugged into sight. Soon the faint clatter became audible and Blake found that, in his nervousness, his hands had gone numb. His breathing was becoming funny too, he noticed abruptly.

  Not wanting to appear as anxious as he felt, Blake scurried back to the benches where he took a seat, hoping to strike an unconcerned pose. However, any success he might have had at this deception was ruined by his tapping feet and tendency to jump at any little noise.

  With a squeal of brakes and hiss of steam, the train shuddered to a heavy stop. The conductor opened the door and stepped down arduously, rubbing at an ache in his knee, before setting out a step stool for the passengers to use.

  Blake found he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the doorway. Elmswood was hardly a thriving metropolis. There wouldn’t be more than a handful of passengers at most. His heart leapt before staggering back in disappointment as a middle-aged woman appeared, her scrawny husband in tow. They took their time climbing down and Blake found himself shoving them aside mentally.

  And then, there she was. Blake sat up straight on the bench, recognizing Macie Sheldon immediately. She was tall and thin and lifted a hand to her hat as the wind tugged at it.
She was familiar and yet Blake felt like he was really seeing her for the first time. Had she always been so pretty? He wracked his memory. She’d been a year older in school and quietly studious, he did remember that. But when had she become a beauty?