“Spending my life serving the church made perfect sense then,” she declared with a great deal of confidence. “And it still feels the same today. I have no regrets.” She paused, staring into her friend’s eyes. “Something in my heart told me it was the right choice.”
“You know?” Kitty mused. “Since that day, I’d spent many a night pondering that response of yours.”
“How so?”
She shrugged. “The possibility of truth that lay behind it intrigued me.” She chortled. “As a matter of fact, it still does until this day.”
Since Fanny had to attend to her class, they parted ways at the end of the corridor. As the teacher performed her daily duty, she wondered about her friend and what exactly was going through her mind.
Yes, she was all too familiar with Mother Superior’s unannounced visits to the orphans who were turning twenty years of age. Kitty was supposed to make up her mind quickly, for the orphanage could not afford to house older girls forever unless they joined the cloister and vowed to serve God through the work of the church.
The thought of losing her friend troubled her, but such was life. Nothing stayed the same. Everything changed, Fanny understood that. She just hoped that she, too, could enjoy some sort of change.
When she caught herself mindlessly working, she snappily shook all thoughts out of her mind and focused on the task at hand. She had sworn herself to the enlightenment of these little girls, and she would be damned if she didn’t give them her best.
For the rest of the day, she wondered if she should speak to Kitty again and ask what she had in mind. But something inside of her stopped her from prying, telling her that everything happened in its own time.
If Kitty wanted to share her thoughts, she would. And if not, so be it. After all, what she truly wanted for her friend was a happy, virtuous life, wherever that may be.
“Hello!” Jezebel’s voice pulled Fanny back into the empty classroom.
“Oh, hello, dear. How can I help you?”
“Have you seen Kitty today?”
“Indeed, I have.”
“Did she seem… odd in any way?”
She shrugged. “Not in the slightest. Why do you ask?”
“Um, nothing.”
Dear, curious Jezebel, always one to want to know everything about everyone under the orphanage roof. When would she ever learn that there were better sorts of knowledge out there?
Chapter 4
Bert’s daily routine was dull but productive.
Upon returning home, he would walk into his spacious house, empty and quiet as a tomb, and immediately head for the washroom. He would bathe and put on a fresh, clean outfit before cooking his own dinner all alone as he hummed a tune or whistled along to a song in his head.
Indeed, his life was quiet and lonesome.
For a man of his stature—a renowned rancher and cattle owner—it was not exactly wise to befriend the ranchmen, cattlemen, and cowboys who worked for him.
Aside from the occasional lunches he shared with his employees on the farm every now and then—where he would stay quiet and keep to himself as they spoke of their lives and told tales of their day-to-day ventures—he spent most of his time on his own.
The only exception was Chuck Masters who lived in a foreman’s cabin beyond the rise beside the homestead. Chuck was a private man, much like Bert himself, and that was mostly why he was his only allowance. He was also the most loyal employee and a very good conversationalist, qualities Bert surely appreciated.
After a long day working on the ranch, the two men would often enjoy a glass or two of whiskey out on Bert’s porch, shooting the breeze as they watched the sky change color and the vista ahead adapt to the night.
That evening, Bert was feeling exceptionally lonely after dinner, and so he invited Chuck over for a drink. The man, who also lived a rather lonely life, never hesitated in accepting a friendly invitation from his much-esteemed employer and dear friend.
Under the full moon, the two men settled on their padded benches with glasses in their hands. The conversation began easily as always, with Chuck spilling stories of the day and anecdotes of the lady friend he was currently courting.
“And then she got down from the horse and swore to never ride ‘im again.” He smirked and shook his head. “I said, ‘it’s your loss, not his.’ Silly duck.”
They both chuckled before Bert slowly nodded and took a sip of his liquor. “It all seems like too much work to me.”
“Courtship?”
“Women.” He raised his eyebrows, his eyes still fixated on his drink.
“They ain’t all like that, y’know.” He gave him a serious look. “And especially… not like your Guthrie dame.”
Scoffing, Bert sat back with a sarcastic smile. “She ain’t my dame, remember? She got engaged to that peddler from San Francisco.”
“Yes, and how many weeks ago was that?”
“Who’s countin’?”
“You clearly are.”
“You’re sorely mistaken, my friend.”
“Then how come you ain’t got another lady lined up?”
“Because I had my eye on ‘er for quite some time, and it ain’t easy findin’ a woman who matches what I’m lookin’ for.”
“Which is what exactly?”
Bert was beginning to become irritated by his friend’s sudden questions. They hadn’t spoken of that woman in weeks. “I ain’t gonna settle for anyone just because I’m alone, Chuck.”
“And that ain’t what I’m sayin’.” He shifted in his seat without breaking their eye contact. “What is it that you’re lookin’ for? I truly wanna know.”
Letting out a deep sigh, Bert gazed away into the distance ahead. He quietly took a sip of his drink before pressing his lips into a thin line, contemplating his best answer.
“I want a real woman, Chuck,” he said in a low voice. “Not some maiden who wants to get married to have babies and graze on the land until she dies.”
Listening intently, Chuck narrowed his eyes and continued to pay attention.
“I want someone with spirit. Someone like me. With things in life that move her. Things she wants to do, places she wants to see. I want someone to share my life with, not a way to spread my seed and call it a day.”
“And that’s why you were fond o’ her. Suppose she wanted to see too much that she went with the bloke from halfway across the country.”
Bert shot him a burning scowl and he backed down with a low chuckle, raising one hand as a sign of surrender.
“Well, you got your answer.” Bert’s sarcasm was evident in his voice.
“Tell you what,” Chuck leaned forward once again, cradling the glass with both hands, “this may not be your cup o’ tea but it worked for my cousin, Roy.”
“And what’s that?”
“He wrote one o’ em public advertisements. The ones callin’ for a bride.”
“You mean a personal ad in the paper?”
“Yes.” He shook his head with a tilt in confirmation. “And before we knew it, he was married to this lady from Washington.”
Bert couldn’t hold back a cynical chortle. “And how’s he now?”
“Happily married with a kid on the way.”
“Really?” He maintained his skeptical tone.
“I swear on my mother’s grave.” He took a quick sip. “If I didn’t know any better I would’a said they courted for years before tyin’ the knot.”
“They didn’t?” He crossed his legs, suspicion still evident between the lines of his speech. “Then how did it work?”
“She responded to his personal in a letter. They wrote to each other for a while. I think it was months because they didn’t get married until the next summer.”
“I see.”
“He invited ‘er to stay at his house after he was certain he wanted to marry ‘er. It was only a matter of meetin’ in person.”
“And you don’t find that a little bit odd?”
�
��Times are odd, my friend. You admired the Guthrie dame for weeks and up she went and accepted another man’s proposal. Suppose it’s rather modern, but what you gotta lose?”
Bert’s expression slowly transformed from apprehensive to contemplative.
“You got the upper hand here. You’re the property owner. You’re the businessman. If you don’t like what you see in that correspondence, you can politely withdraw.”
The point Chuck was making was quite logical. After all, Bert really did not have anything to lose. What was an hour of writing a letter in the midst of his lonesome days? What was the harm in getting to know someone new?
Perhaps that was how he was going to find his dream woman—through the magic of the written word.
Concerned that the whiskey might have gotten to his head, Bert decided to change the subject and put the thought aside for later. He was not in a rush to write that ad; besides, all of that talk could easily evaporate tomorrow after the alcohol and exhaustion had both left his body.
But then again… how much longer was his solitude supposed to last?
Chapter 5
One of Kitty’s many ways of disobeying the rules set out by the nuns was her choice of reading material. Some books and newspapers were, of course, allowed into the orphanage as a way of exposing the young girls to the ways of the world outside. The Matrimonial Times, however, was never one of them.
Yet, determined to read anything she could get her hands on, Kitty managed to persuade one of the children going out to town to meet prospective adopters to smuggle a copy for her.
“You can hide in it in your frock,” she encouraged, touching the girl’s belt. “Under here, so it won’t fall out. Understood?”
The child innocently nodded before answering the calls of a nun beckoning her out to catch the wagon.
Later that afternoon, the girl returned with the nun and the trafficked item. She came into Kitty’s room running for fear of someone figuring her out.
“Here,” she whispered, pulling the rolled paper out from under her skirt. “Nobody saw anything, but please if they find it—”
“You never saw it,” Kitty reassured her. “How were they?”
She smiled. “They were nice. I think we got along.”
“That’s fantastic news.” She kissed her on the cheek. “Now, run along before the Sisters notice you’re missing from chanting class.”
When she was finally alone, Kitty lounged in her humble bed, facing downward while she kicked her legs up, flailing her feet about in amusement as she flipped through the paper.
She had no interest in being a bride, but something about the different sorts of stories featured in that newspaper entertained her. It was something that put a smile on her face, and she did not know why—nor was she intent on analyzing it. After all, forms of distraction were scarce at the orphanage. So, why not read The Matrimonial Times?
The last thing she had expected, however, was to be intrigued by an advertisement in the personals section the way she was.
“Oklahoma Rancher in need of an energetic lady to be his legally wed companion. Must be a conversationalist with a broad range of interests.”
A ranch owner who did not begin his ad with words like beautiful, good-looking, or eye-pleasing? In fact, he did not include those terms at all. Instead, he wrote energetic, conversationalist, and broad range of interests. It was as though he were actually seeking a life mate and not a brood sow.
What an odd fellow, she thought to herself with a smirk and an audible scoff.
Could he be serious, though? Perhaps he was one of those honest-to-God men who sought a real-life companion without the shenanigans of modern time courting.
A man with such intellect could surely court a woman in real life. Why would he need an advertisement in the paper to accomplish that?
Maybe he was hideous. Perhaps women saw him and looked the other way.
But what did she know of courting and matters of the heart? One could easily claim the same about her—a young woman, almost in her twenties with no experience with the opposite sex. No knowledge of the ways and methods of embellishment and beautification. No understanding of the basics of wooing or the etiquette of courtship.
Who was she to judge?
Without much thought, Kitty found herself rolling over and out of bed, quickly launching toward her desk and pulling out a fresh, blank page. The words flowed with minimum effort, as though her fingers and mind knew exactly what she supposed to say.
I beg of you not to misunderstand me, mister, for I am in no way eager to marry and bear children just yet, she wrote. But something tells me that I need to communicate with you. I can’t quite explain it. So, forgive me if I’m wasting your time.
When she was done writing, and with the last touch of the pen as she scribbled her name at the bottom, she took a deep breath and stood up, quickly looking out the window to stop herself from tearing up the letter.
The moments it took for the ink to dry represented the flashes that sparked through her mind as she watched the young girls chant outside in the backyard.
She did not want to spend the rest of her life at the orphanage, nor was she interested in devoting the remainder of her years in service of the church.
Marriage was also a righteous way of living, was it not?
Before she could change her mind, Kitty hastily folded the letter, slid it into an envelope, and sealed it shut. With steps that defied all of her fears of the unknown, she made her way over to Fanny’s room, secretly praying that she would find her there.
Much to her relief, she found her working at her desk.
“Fanny, good afternoon.”
“Hello?” Fanny turned around and her expert eyes immediately caught the envelope in Kitty’s hand. She tilted her head. “And what might that be?”
“This,” she quickly passed it to her, sliding it under one of Fanny’s many books on the desk, “is how you help me. Mail it for me,” she whispered.
“What is that, Kitty?” Fanny’s stern stare pierced through her. “I shan’t mail an envelope out of here in ignorance of what it encloses.”
Sighing in resignation, Kitty slouched her shoulders as she took a step back to settle on the edge of Fanny’s bed. “You said you understand my need to see if there was more to life out there.”
“I did, and I do.”
“I’m writing to a man in Oklahoma. A respectable ranch owner.”
Meeting Fanny’s raised eyebrows with a brief giggle, Kitty proceeded to explain to her friend the details of her little plan. Even though it entailed a confession of smuggling forbidden publications into the orphanage, Kitty knew that she could trust Fanny not to tell.
“Well, well.” Fanny tittered, her face faking dismay while her true excitement shone through her eyes. “You, young lady, are quite brave.”
Kitty raised her arms in the air the way a male peacock shows off his colorful feathers. “I am, but what makes you say so?”
“You’re writing to a man you’ve never met before. Not even a friend of an acquaintance. He could very well be a womanizer or a criminal.”
“And as far as he’s concerned, I could be a promiscuous wench or a witch from Salem.” She tilted her head. “So, who’s to say that he could take such a chance and I can’t?”
“I both admire your courage and fear it.”
“I’m a big girl, you needn’t worry about me.” She leaned forward, her eyes pleading. “Will you please mail it for me?”
Chapter 6
As the days went by, Bert was admittedly disappointed in the number of respondents to his advertisement. In spite of his complete lack of reference on the matter, he expected more than just three women to show interest.
But it came as it did, and so, he went along with it.
The first responder was a Southern Belle who included a photograph of herself with the first letter, clearly proud of her long, blonde hair and fair complexion. She described her eyes as ‘azure blue’
and dedicated an entire paragraph to telling him about her much-desired physique.
She came from a rich family with whom she lived in a massive house and was evidently bored with her entitled life. In her light-hearted letter, the Belle also stressed on the fact that she loved painting and horseback riding. Aside from that, she did not seem very interested in much else.
Giving her the benefit of a doubt, Bert wrote back as a way of provoking further conversation.
A couple of days later, he received a letter from a second responder—a school ma’am from Ohio whose sense of humor was harder to place than a needle in a haystack. She was obviously humble, kind, and good at heart, but Bert could not imagine venturing a real-life conversation with her.
Nonetheless, he did write her back as well.
The next day, and just as he was about to give up all hope, the mailman left a third envelope at his doorstep. It came from Chicago, and when he opened it, he was in awe of the young orphan woman’s ability to pen a great letter.
She told him all about her background and how unsure she was about responding to his advertisement in the first place. In addition to her discernible talent with the written word, she mentioned her love for reading and books, poetry and stories on current affairs.
Bert was particularly impressed by the fact that she preferred everything clean, and that her cooking skills did not come from a place of duty, but rather from an appreciation of God’s gifts and mastering the culinary art.
I don’t believe He gave us all of this so we could merely slab it on a plate and gobble it up without savoring every bite. If that were the case, then why do we not only have one vegetable and one sort of bread? Wouldn’t you agree?
Her clever statement made him smile.
And of course, he wrote her back, and with the swift moves of his pen on the paper, he realized… he was exceptionally excited about corresponding with Kitty Blume.
For the week that followed, Bert eagerly waited to hear back from the ladies, although it was becoming more and more clear in his mind who he really wanted to hear from.
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