The Widow's Mail Order Husband (Mail Order Brides)

by Susan Leigh Carlton

  Susan Leigh Carlton

  Tomball, TX

  Susan@susanleighcarlton.com

  <$wc30,000> words.

  The Widow’s Mail Order Husband

  by

  Susan Leigh Carlton

  Copyright

  Susan Leigh Carlton 2014

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  This book contains Material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book May be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Table of Contents

  Grapevine, Texas

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Zion Church, Ladies Sewing Circle, May 1875…

  Chapter 2: Home of Mary Cartwright

  Chapter 3: An Answer To My Letter

  Chapter 4: Arrival In Fort Worth

  Chapter 5: Mary’s New Home

  Chapter 6: Our First Night

  Chapter 7: Getting Emily To Talk

  Chapter 8: The Storm

  Chapter 9: Mary Cleans Up

  Chapter 10: Tom and Mary Agree On A Plan

  Chapter 11: Creating A School

  Chapter 12: Tom Does Some Soul Searching

  Chapter 13: It’s Been A Very Good Day

  Chapter 14: School Starts

  Chapter 15: Two Relationships Progress

  Chapter 16: An Uneventful Pregnancy

  Chapter 17: Matthew Thomas Hartness

  Chapter 18: Church

  Chapter 19: Indian Uprisings

  Chapter 20: Here’s The Bullet

  Chapter 21: A Slow Return To Normal

  Chapter 22: 1880 Christmas Time At the Lazy H

  Epilogue

  About Susan Leigh Carlton

  Susan’s Other Books

  Grapevine, Texas

  Grapevine, Texas is a city of approximately 50,000 inhabitants, some twenty miles from Dallas. Its name comes from the native grapes in the area. In the recent past, several wineries have opened in Grapevine. The city is very active in maintaining its historic downtown corridor. In 2007 CNNMoney.com rated Grapevine as one of "America's Best Places to Live."

  In the fall of 1843, General Sam Houston and other Republic of Texas Commissioners met with the chiefs of ten Indian nations on the banks of Grape Vine Springs. This meeting ended with the signing of a treaty of "peace, friendship, and commerce," opening the area for homesteaders. The settlement that emerged was named Grape Vine due to its location on the appropriately-named Grape Vine Prairie near Grape Vine Springs.

  The first recorded white settlement in the area occurred in the late 1840s and early 1850s. General Richard Montgomery Gano owned property near Grape Vine and rallied the early settlement against Comanche raiding parties. He later led a band of volunteers to battle in the American Civil War.

  During the 19th century, growth was slow but steady; and by 1890, roughly 800 residents called Grape Vine home. It had a newspaper, a public school, several cotton gins, a post office and railroad service. Grape Vine made gains early in the 20th century, and on January 12, 1914, the name was altered to one word, Grapevine.

  An event of note occurred on Easter Sunday, April 1, 1934. Henry Methvin, an associate of Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, killed two police officers, E.B. Wheeler and H.D. Murphy, during an altercation near Grapevine. A historical marker remains at the intersection of Dove Road and State Highway 114. Points of historical interest nearby include several cabins near Grapevine Lake previously owned by Jack Ruby, the man convicted in the murder of presidential assassin Lee Harvey Oswald.

  The name of one of the churches in the area was the Lonesome Dove Baptist Church. I have wondered if this is where Larry McMurtry found the name for his book and runaway hit, “Lonesome Dove”. I have been unable to document this.

  The population of Grapevine fell in the interval between the two world wars. Cotton was the primary crop for Grapevine until the early 20th century, when it was overtaken by cantaloupe farms, accounting for as many as 25,000 acres. For many years, a Rotary Club sign outside of town boasted of Grapevine as "Cantaloupe Capital of the World".

  Population growth continued at a moderate pace until the opening of Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport, (DFW) in 1974. Growth exploded with massive development in the area, due to the airport development. Grapevine had previously depended heavily on agricultural production, but then quickly changed into a regional center of commerce due to its proximity to the airport's north entrance. The economic benefits of the airport's construction continue to encourage new levels of development in Grapevine to this day.

  My son was born in nearby Irving and now lives in Flower Mound, about four miles from Grapevine Lake. We have eaten in several of the restaurants in the eclectic historic section of Grapevine. We have also attended church there. It is a beautiful city that is proactive in protecting their heritage.

  Prologue

  Mary Cartwright’s husband was with General Meade’s Union Army somewhere in Virginia. Her twentieth birthday was July 10, 1863 and she was hoping against hope Joshua would be able to make it home for the event. She and Joshua had married just after her eighteenth birthday and she had seen him only once in the past year. “I wish this terrible war would just end. It has gone on too long. We’ve lost nearly an entire generation,” she thought.

  On the day of her birth, as was her usual habit, she went to the train station in Hagerstown, where the casualty lists were posted. The lists of those who had fallen were usually posted on the board outside the depot, five to ten days after a battle. As she came near the site, she heard the crowd talking about a major battle that had occurred at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, only thirty two miles away. The names on the casualty lists were arranged by unit.

  Under the listing, Hancock’s II Corp, she saw the name, Joshua Hancock. Her husband was dead, on the third day of the Battle of Gettysburg. Mary could not say how she made it back to her parent’s home. She was in a state of shock. Her mother tried to comfort her, but failed. Mary was devastated over the loss of her husband and grieved for over two years before she gradually resumed her life.

  There were no men in her life for the simple reason the war had taken out most of the males of her generation.

  Chapter 1: Zion Church, Ladies Sewing Circle, May 1875…

  “Did you hear about Minerva Logan?” asked Cora Tompkins.

  “No, what happened?” chorused several of the 10 women present.

  “Why, she advertised in a newspaper for a husband, that’s what, and she’s going off to some place in Texas to marry a man she’s never even met,” said Cora.

  “Why ever would anyone do such a thing?” Emma Sayres asked.

  “Maybe she was tired of being alone,” offered Mary Cartwright. Mary had lost her husband on her twentieth birthday. She’s lived alone since her parents passed away five years ago.

  “That’s no reason to go running off with some stranger,” Cora said. Several of the married ladies in the circle nodded in agreement.

  “I can understand her feeling that way,” said Mary. “It gets tiresome, not having anyone to talk to.“

  “Well, I think it’s scandalous,” Cora said. “Scandalous, that’s what it is.”

  “How is your husband, Cora? Is he well?’ asked Mary, who was one of the five widows present.

  “Why yes, he’s well, though his rheumatism acts up once in a while, why do you ask?” Cora said.

  “He
wasn’t in the war, was he?” asked Mary.

  “What has that to do with anything” Cora asked.

  “Since you’ve never been alone, how can you criticize someone trying to rid herself of the loneliness?” Mary asked. She gathered her unused sewing equipment and prepared to leave.

  “Well, I never,” sniffed Cora.

  “No, you haven't, and for that, you should be grateful. Now, ladies, I think I will go home to my empty house,” Mary said

  As she walked away, she heard Cora ask of the others, “Did you hear the way she talked to me…” Mary didn’t hear the rest of Cora’s question.

  As she walked home, she was thinking about Minerva Logan. Mary had never heard of anyone advertising for a husband. “I wonder where she heard about the newspaper?” Mary thought to herself. “What kind of courage would it take to take such action?”

  Along the way home, she passed, the Logan house. She stopped and looked at the house. Then she found herself walking up the steps. “In for a penny,” she thought and knocked at the door.

  Minerva answered the door, and said, “Why, Mary, hello. I didn’t expect you. Please come in?” Minerva had known Mary most of her adult life, seeing her at church and at the general store on occasion. She had lost her husband in the same battle in which Mary’s husband had fallen. Would you like some tea? I have the kettle on the stove.”

  “No, I’m fine,” Mary said. “I just heard you’re getting married. Is it true?”

  “Oh, that’s right, today was the sewing circle, wasn’t it?” she asked with a laugh.

  “Well, that’s where I heard it,” Mary said. “If it’s not too personal, would you tell me about it?”

  “Mary, it’s been so lonely around here, I could hardly stand it. I guess I don’t have to tell you about lonely. You lost Joshua in the same battle,”

  “I do know all about being lonely,” Mary said.

  Minerva said, “It might be unseemly to talk about it, but I haven't been with a man since my Benjamin left. There just aren’t any men here our age.”

  “Tell me about it,” Mary said. “The only one I have to talk to is my cat.”

  “Anyway, I heard about this newspaper where women can advertise for a husband or just the opposite. The war left a shortage of men here, and out west, those that went looking for gold have no women to marry. So there’s a newspaper called The Matrimonial News, published in San Francisco and Saint Louis, taking these ads. They don’t charge the women for theirs, but to get the newspaper, you have to subscribe. I did, and I decided to place an ad,” Minerva said.

  “Weren’t you worried about someone coming here?” Mary asked.

  “Oh no,” Minerva said. “All letters go to the newspaper and they forward them on. If you get a letter from someone in whom you might be interested, you can give the newspaper permission to pass on your name and address. I received letters from several men, and corresponded with two of them. One caught my interest and we wrote several times back and forth. We decided to meet and get married. He provided the transportation, but you can pay your own way if you like. I’ve sold the house and furniture to a nice couple and I’m leaving for Fort Worth, Texas, the end of the week.”

  “Aren’t you nervous about this?” Mary asked.

  “Of course I am, but I will have the money to come back if it doesn’t work. Mary, I have to take the chance. There’s nothing here for me and I don’t want to live and die alone.”

  “Would you give me the address of the paper?” Mary asked softly.

  “I’ll do better than that. I’ll give you the last paper I received. You can see my ad.”

  “Would you?” Mary asked. “I’d be ever so grateful.”

  “Just a minute, I’ll get it,” Minerva said. She left the room and returned shortly with a newspaper of several pages.

  “May I borrow it? I’ll return it,” Mary promised. Minerva handed the paper to Cora, who stuck it in her pocket.

  “I’ll bring it back, I want to see you off. You’re going by train, aren’t you?” Mary asked.

  “Yes, there’s a train that goes through Fort Worth,” Minerva answered.

  “Minerva, I appreciate this more than I can say. Thank you. I really admire your courage,” Mary said.

  “Courage is born out of desperation and I was desperate. Now at least, I’m going to have a chance,” Minerva said.

  Mary stood, then embraced Minerva. “Maybe you’ve just given me a chance too,” she said. “I’ll see you before you leave.”

  Two days later, she returned the paper. “I’ll be getting my own copy now. I’ve placed an ad too. How long did you have to wait for an answer?” she asked.

  “It was about three weeks between the letters until we started writing directly, then two weeks.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to do anything about my house until I’m sure about something,” Mary said. “Mr. Charles, at the bank, handled everything after my father died and I trust him to handle this,” she said. “That is, if I get any answers,” she said ruefully.

  “You’ll get answers, Mary, just like I did. Just be careful. If it doesn’t sound right, it probably isn’t,” Minerva advised.

  Chapter 2: Home of Mary Cartwright

  Beginning a week after she had sent her ad off, she began watching her mail for some indication of interest. Today is the seventh day since she mailed her ad to The Matrimonial News. There was nothing again today. The eighth day brought nothing. On the ninth day, there was a copy of the paper along with a letter from the editor.

  It read: Dear Mrs. Cartwright: This is to inform you we are in receipt of your request for placement of an ad. You have been assigned account number 920. Please refer to this number in any correspondence. We will forward any letters responding to your ad. We will not release your name and or address until we receive written authorization from you. Thank you for your interest in our services. The letter was signed by the editor.

  Mary quickly scanned the paper for her ad. It was there. Her ad said “Widow, 32 years of age, 5’ 5” 125 lbs. Friends have told me I am pleasing to the eye. I have modest means and desire correspondence with a responsible man of same approximate age. Height and weight should be proportional. One or two children no barrier. Matrimony desired if suitable.”

  “It seems so little to describe someone. How in the world will I be able to pick out a mate for life from such a short description,” she wondered. “It hasn’t cost anything thus far, I have nothing to lose… yet.”

  Three weeks after the ad…

  When the postman turned the ringer on her door, Mary dropped what she was doing and hurried to the door. She found three letters there referencing account number 920. The first one she opened, immediately triggered disgust. The writer asked for information regarding the extent of her means. “You’re going straight to the rubbish,” she said. The next letter was from a man in his forties. “Too much of an age difference,” she said. The writer of the third letter described himself as a widower, having lost his wife to pneumonia, thirty three years old with a five year old daughter. He said he was the owner of a thriving ranch Grapevine, TX. “I wonder how close Grapevine is to where Minerva lives?” she thought. “I would at least have someone close by I know. I think I’m going to answer this one.”

  She sat at the small writing desk, dipped the quill into the ink and began to write. She told of having lost her husband in the late war, and then losing her parents. She did not mention which side her husband had fought for. She wrote about her love of music, and how she had supported herself by teaching in the local school and by making dresses for some of the wealthy citizens of Hagerstown. She told him where Hagerstown was and described the countryside. She indicated a desire for further correspondence, if he was so inclined. She left the letter in the kitchen for a day before deciding to mail it.

  In a quandary over whether to proceed, she wandered through the home she had inherited from her parents. It was full of memories from her childhood, along wi
th the few items she had from her shortened marriage to Joshua. “Do I want to give this up?” she asked herself. “I am secure here, I have my own home, my aunts, uncles, cousins, and my friends.” She laughed. “After the circle meeting, I probably have fewer of those now.”

  Mary decided to talk to the banker who had handled the transfer of the deed to the house into her name. “Maybe he could give me some advice,” she thought. As she walked through the house, her mind drifted in another direction. “If I leave, could I come back here to live?” The question remained unanswered.

  Going back to her mail, she found a letter from Minerva. In the letter Minerva told about her trip on the train to Fort Worth. It had been uneventful. The letter continued: “I was met at the station by my fiance (Isn’t that a nice word?) Chase Barlow. We had lunch at a cafe near the Fort Worth Stockyards. I know it sounds terrible, but it was actually quite good. Chase brings his cattle to market in the stockyards, so he knows most of the people.

  “Chase is about 5’ 10” tall, dark hair and brown eyes. He is rather handsome, his face is tanned. He wears jeans and a Stetson hat. Mary, he even has a handgun! He’s quiet and suggested the lunch to get acquainted. After lunch, we walked to the justice of the peace and were married, We then rode to the ranch, located outside Bedford, a small community and about fifteen miles from Fort Worth.