Mail Order Matilda (Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies Book 18)

by Margaret Tanner

  “I know.” She took the middle-age woman’s hand and gently squeezed her fingers. The five other boarders, three men and two women, had been polite and pleasant enough. None of them referred to what had befallen her so probably they didn’t know.

  Tilly put on a bonnet which matched her dress and with Mrs. Holbery’s list in her reticule stepped out of the house.

  Within less than five minutes she had almost made it to the Coyote Crossing mercantile. A couple of matronly women stared at her then deliberately crossed over to the other side of the street. Tilly inwardly cringed yet forced herself not to let it show. Pride was the only thing she had left. I’m innocent. I didn’t do anything wrong. If I’m guilty of anything it’s of being gullible for being taken in by Geoffrey’s lies. She now hated the man she had only a few days ago thought she loved and would spend the rest of her life with.

  “The likes of her shouldn’t be allowed to mix with decent Godfearing women.” The wife of the bank manager gave a contemptuous sniff.

  A cowboy who stood nearby snickered. “How much would it cost for you to lift your skirt for me?”

  She ignored him as if he did not exist although the humiliation almost brought her to her knees.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Ablett.” She greeted the mercantile owner’s wife. “I’ve got Mrs. Holbery’s list here.”

  Dubiously the woman took it from her, making sure their hands didn’t touch. It was as if she feared Tilly might somehow contaminate her.

  “Are you staying at the boarding house?”

  “Yes, I am as a matter of fact. It was where, um, I’ve stayed for the last few weeks.

  “My husband will deliver the order. Anything else?” Mrs. Ablett snapped.

  “I’ll have the latest copy of the newspaper please.” She wondered why she decided to buy it, having never done such a thing before.

  “You’re a whore,” the girl from the hat shop stared accusingly at her.

  Tilly tried to maintain a dignified silence even though she was in turmoil with nausea curdling her stomach. It was obvious the whole town thought she was a fallen woman and were treating her accordingly. It was soul destroying.

  She paid for the paper and Mrs. Ablett wrote an account out for the boarding house and tucked it into a ledger. So much for thinking the people would be sympathetic to her predicament. If she wasn’t careful, she could end up being run out of town. Tarred and feathered even.

  A lewd comment from a young man lounging outside the salon had heat infusing her body.

  “Come up and work with us,” a scantily clad young woman called down from the second-floor balcony of the saloon. Tilly’s steps faltered. If she could have found a large enough hole, she would have crawled into it.

  Could no-one in town except for Mrs. Holbery understand she had been cruelly deceived. Had believe the marriage vows she and Geoffrey had taken in front of the preacher in Cheyanne were genuine. How could a man love her and do something so awful? You foolish woman, he didn’t love you or he wouldn’t have done such an evil thing.

  Thank goodness he had not given her a child, at least she knew that for certain now. So much for the coffee and pastry she had planned to buy to cheer herself up. The quicker she got off the street the better.

  Tilly, Tilly, you are silly

  You shared a man’s bed

  Even though you weren’t wed.

  A boy chanted the words as she passed by the bank. This was the worst thing that had happened all morning. She could not stay here. Her reputation was in shreds. Most everyone despised her.

  Maybe Mrs. Holbery’s idea of becoming a mail order bride was not such a crazy one after all. If only she could find someone suitable. The way her luck was going that was unlikely. A fresh start in another town a long way from here might be her savior. To think not one person in the store had spoken up for her was heart wrenching.

  She trudged along staring straight ahead, desperate to get to the boarding house before completely breaking down. How had everyone come to know what had happened to her?

  It wouldn’t have been the sheriff who had been kind in a brusque kind of way. It had to have been the people at the telegraph office. What of Geoffrey’s real wife? She hadn’t thought about the woman until now. How would she be feeling now? Poor thing probably had no idea what her husband was up to.

  She obviously wasn’t from around here. Geoffrey had been careful about where they stayed. Keep a low profile he always said, now she knew why. He didn’t want to risk his lawfully wedded wife finding out about them and putting the law on to him.

  Did he still claim his marital rights from her? The thought had Tilly’s stomach turning sour with disgust, bile rose in her mouth as she stumbled into the front sitting room of the boarding house.

  “I’m back,” she called out, wondering how the words came out of her constricted throat. “The mercantile will deliver your order later. I’ve got an awful headache. I might have a lie down for a while.”

  Mrs. Holbery shuffled into the room. “Oh, my dear. It was that bad?”

  “Yes, terrible.”

  “How about we have a cup of tea and you can tell me all about it?”

  “I will later, thank you. I have to lie down for a while I feel like my head is ready to split open.” She forced a smile to alleviate the kindly woman’s worry.

  “Now, you won’t go doing anything silly?”

  “No, I swear I won’t. I bought a paper. I’ll read it later and see if there are any ‘wives wanted’ advertisements.”

  “Good. I think it’s your best chance of happiness.”

  “Thank you.” She stumbled up the stairs knowing Mrs. Holbery wouldn’t be able to follow. Unless she absolutely had to, the woman never ventured up there now because her rheumatics caused her such trouble.

  Once in her room, Tilly locked the door, took off her bonnet and slipped out of her dress. She hated the fact she had to sleep in the bed she had shared with Geoffrey. It made her feel even more degraded. Mrs. Holbery had no other room to offer her, so it was sleep here or find somewhere else to stay. Impossible with feelings in the town running so strongly against her.

  She slipped between the sheets and closed her eyes in the hopes of easing the pain in her skull. After a short time, the pain eased enough for her to get up and dressed. Suddenly her eyes alighted on the paper she had carelessly flung on the nightstand. If she could find a job away from this town, maybe she would have no need to become a mail order bride. She decided not to bother reading the news it would probably be all bad, anyway.

  She found the classified advertisements. Housekeeper for ranch required. References essential. Well, that let her out. She had no references. Of the three positions she would have been able to perform, all required references from previous employers which she didn’t have.

  “You don’t need a reference,” Geoffrey had said when she asked him about getting one from the diner where she had worked. “As my wife, you will never need to work.”

  Forget about employer references, she didn’t even have a character reference to fall back on. No-one in Coyote Crossing would give her one now.

  Wife wanted.

  She read the advertisement. This man was direct and to the point. No romance required, she found that very appealing. Why risk getting her heart broken again. Isolated that was good, giving her a chance to lick her wounds in private. Little chance of seeing anyone who knew her circumstances, either. She had scorned mail order brides before and now she was thinking of becoming one.

  Stop procrastinating she scolded herself. The longer she stayed here the worse her position would become, and it could even affect her landlady having a tainted woman renting one of her rooms.

  With a determined set to her mouth she headed downstairs to Mrs. Holbery’s private sitting room and knocked on the half open door. “It’s Tilly, could I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Come in, dear.” Mrs. Holbery was seated in a chair drinking one of her endless cups of tea. “
Like one?”

  “No thanks. I saw an advertisement in the paper. What do you think?” She handed the paper over.

  The older woman read it. “Sounds all right. I mean rather blunt yet honest. He has stated his needs and if you want my advice, I’d answer him. He’s not too far away yet there’s enough distance between here and Eldorado, that it would be unlikely for your path to cross with anyone who knows you. My only slight concern is his stipulation about no children. That does seem a little strange for a man his age, although he does say no romance.”

  “Maybe he means a marriage in name only. That would certainly suit me. After how Geoffrey duped me, I would never trust another man.”

  Tilly had a sudden horrible thought. “Maybe he’s already married and just wants another woman.”

  “I doubt he would bother advertising in the paper for a bride if that was the way of it.”

  “No, he’d woo some gullible woman who didn’t know better, like me.”

  “Don’t get bitter Tilly, it will only ruin your life. You’ve been through a shocking ordeal; this could be a new start for you.”

  “I think it might be my only chance.” Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back.

  “You can cook?”

  “Yes, I worked in a diner until I got married…. Well you know.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want a cup of tea. Very refreshing and relaxing. My mother swore by it. Of course, she was English.”

  “I’m fine thank you. Do you have any writing materials? I don’t have any, all I possess now is a trunk containing my clothes and a few of my personal things. I would go to the store and buy some except I doubt if they would serve me. Why do people have to be so vindictive and small minded?”

  “I suppose they have nothing better to do in their own drab lives and delight in someone else’s suffering. There’s writing paper and a pencil in the drawer of the dresser. Help yourself, it will save me doing it, my rheumatics are acting up something shocking today.”

  “I’m sorry. Here I am sitting here wallowing in self-pity. What can I do to help you?”

  “I’ve got a nice piece of beef I was going to roast with vegetables for supper tonight.”

  “I could do that for you. I’ll set up the table in the dining room ready, too.”

  “Write the letter first, then when young Charlie delivers the bread, I’ll get him to put it in the post. He’s illiterate so he’ll think I wrote it.”

  “Thank you, you’ve been such a good friend I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

  “Just be happy, that will be all the thanks I need. You’ve suffered a terrible injustice which you didn’t deserve. Don’t worry too much – I’m sure the Lord will guide you.”

  Up in her room Tilly read the advertisement again. She would be honest as much as she could without revealing the sordid details of her situation.

  Dear Sir,

  My name is Matilda Freeman. I am twenty-two years old. I do not have a husband or children.

  That was the best way of putting it.

  I am of medium height and build and have brown hair and blue/grey eyes and consider that I have a comely appearance. I am not afraid of hard work. I was brought up on a ranch and my last job was as a cook and waitress at a diner, and without being conceited I am an excellent cook.

  I too am not looking for romance. A man let me down badly once and I never want to suffer such heartache again.

  I have to be honest and say I can’t find employment here in Coyote Crossing, which means I cannot afford to stay here at the boarding house for much longer. I was until recently a regular church goer. So yes, I am looking for a quick solution to my problem.

  If you are interested, I would be glad to correspond further.

  Please do not dally with me. I am running out of time. If I am not suitable for your needs, please be gentlemanly enough to let me know.

  Matilda Freeman.

  She read it and sighed, not completely happy with it although she had been honest, well to the extent of only lying by omission. After folding the letter neatly, she placed it in the envelope and sealed it.

  All she could do now was wait and see if the man responded.

  Chapter Three

  “You’ve got mail, boss.” A grinning Hamish handed Brodie three letters. “Probably from your prospective brides.”

  “I hope so. I feel bad about Liz working in her state.” He had been keeping the rooms tidy under Liz’s supervision and doing a fair job of it. The cooking, no matter how often she showed him, he just could not get the hang of. He was almost tempted to temporarily close one of his passenger routes to keep down the number of overnight passengers. If he did it, he risked losing his good name for reliability and Leo Chapman and his two no-good sons might try to muscle in on his business. Fortunately, they only had a couple of coaches whereas he had eight of varying sizes and over a hundred horses at his disposal.

  This place was set up so well he could easily expand it further if he wanted to. All I need is a little help.

  Liz came out to usher the passengers, an elderly man and two married couples all from the one family, inside. “Any letters?” she asked.

  “Only three.”

  She laughed. “Better than none. Come this way please.” She smiled at the passengers.

  She was a great gal and if Hamish hadn’t seen her first, he would have jumped at the chance to court her. The one time he didn’t take the coach out and Hamish did, his friend met Liz. Secretly he was jealous of his friend’s happiness, yet never showed it, or hoped not.

  By the time he had unhitched the horses and led them away for a well-earned rest, Hamish had brought the passengers’ luggage to their rooms.

  The place had six rooms for guests. It was unusual for him to have more than one stage here at a time, although Grainger’s Freight sometimes used his facilities as well now. At least if he was full he could put the drivers up at the bunkhouse with his own men, and old Grainger was an honest, hard worker who kept a spare team of oxen here as well, so he didn’t mind helping him out.

  Most times Brodie ate his meals in the kitchen, and today he was eager for his supper. He was hungry enough to eat a horse and still nibble on its rider. Liz always milked their house cow. Now he did it to lighten the load for her.

  With the unopened letters still in his pocket he strode down to the milking shed and rounded up the cow, a docile creature who was always eager to be milked to ease her swollen udder. He had never known a cow to make so much milk.

  “Well, my dear. I hope one of these women know how to milk you.” The cow’s soft moo had him laughing. “Maybe I should let you do the choosing eh? Beauty, brain or brawn, what do you think?” He must be going loco asking advice from a cow.

  He was clueless when it came to women and was the first to admit it. They turned him into a gibbering wreck. Any wonder he had been unable to get himself a bride in the usual manner, not that he had the time or the inclination up until now.

  Just when things were starting to work out well for him, Liz’s pregnancy had messed it up. The story of his life really, if he dwelled on it.

  He didn’t begrudge Hamish and Liz their happiness, was truly pleased for them. It was the bad timing that upset him. Who could predict these things? The couple had feared they would never have children, whereas his own mother could pop them out easy as shelling peas.

  Fortunately, after they finished eating, the passengers would usually sit around in the guest sitting room reading or playing cards for an hour or two before retiring as there was always an early start after breakfast. The section from here to Four Winds was the longest and roughest section of the whole journey. He released the cow and she trotted off swishing her tail.

  With an almost full bucket of milk he carried it back to the kitchen. He didn’t normally mix with the passengers as he hated useless chit-chat. Liz did most of that. Why hadn’t he thought to mention he needed a woman who was capable of greeting his passengers?
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br />   At the kitchen door he paused to inhale the delicious aroma of biscuits and stew. Hearty home cooked meals were always well received by the travellers.

  “Need a hand, Liz,” he asked, placing the bucket on the pine table where he normally took his meals.

  She laughed. “Not from you in the kitchen I don’t. I hope you get someone suitable. Hamish said you received three letters.”

  “Yeah, I did, thought I might have got more.” He reached for a hot biscuit and she playfully swatted his hand away.

  “I’m grateful to you and Hamish for staying on but feel bad about you working in your state.”

  “My state? You sound like I’ve got some deadly disease instead of having a baby.”

  “You know what I mean. I’ve never been much good with words.”

  “I’ll pour you a coffee then you read the letters; you know you’re dying to.”

  Brodie pulled the three letters from his pocket and ripped them from their envelopes.

  “The first one comes from a woman in Austin. A widow with three children,” he growled. “I specifically said no kids. Things will be too busy without having to worry about kids getting underfoot.”

  “Okay, she’s not suitable, what’s the next one?”

  “Cynthia, twenty years old and spent most of her life in Boston but is now living in Austin with her lawyer father wants to marry a cowboy.”

  Liz laughed. “Not your type, Brodie.”

  “Tarnation.” He threw his hands in the air. “I give up.”

  “The third letter, read that.”

  “Well, this one comes from Coyote Crossing, which isn’t too far away.” He skimmed over the neatly written lines. “She sounds suitable, I’ll take her.”

  “You can’t make a rash decision like that. Let me see.” Liz read the letter. “She does have all the attributes you want. Sounds like she gave her heart so some no-good skunk who broke it.”

  “I don’t care about that, she can cook, which is the main thing.”