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

by Susan Leigh Carlton

  “My dear friend, I am very happy. No more loneliness. I should have done this years ago. I wish you luck in your quest for companionship and don’t let Cora get to you. She means well, but doesn’t know better. Please write and let me know how you’re doing. (s) Your special friend, Minerva.”

  “What a nice letter,” she thought. “I’m happy for her. It encourages me. I’m going to follow through on this. I’m tired of living alone.” That afternoon, she went to the bank and spoke with Jasper Stirnbaum, with whom she had previously had dealings.

  “Jasper, I’m thinking about getting married and it would involve my moving away. I’m wondering about my house. I don’t know whether I should sell it, and the contents or keep it and rent it. Is that something the bank could handle for me?”

  “As a customer of the bank, you would have access to that type of service from the bank.” He cleared his throat. “There would be a small fee associated with the service. We could certainly handle the sale or we could manage the rental, and pay the associated taxes from the rental account. It would be necessary for you to maintain an account for that purpose. When will the ceremony take place?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t met him yet, but I’m exploring the possibilities,” she said. He looked at her strangely. “I wonder what this is all about?” he mused to himself.

  “Mrs. Cartwright, as your banker and friend, I would be remiss if I didn’t encourage you to proceed with extreme caution,” he said.

  “I understand,” Mary said, “and I appreciate the advice. I shall be careful.” Mary returned home, buoyed by her actions of the day. She fixed dinner and ate… alone. “Hopefully, I won’t be eating alone much longer.” She reread the letter from the man whose name she did not know and who might be her husband. “Strange circumstances, but this is where the terrible war has brought us.”

  Chapter 3: An Answer To My Letter

  Mary’s Home…

  It was two weeks before she received an answer to her letter posted to account number 875. While waiting for answers to her ad, Mary continued her normal activities, such as church on Sunday, shopping, and dressmaking. She had also been going to the Ladies Sewing Circle. She did not mention her ad and subsequent correspondence. The subject of Minerva’s marriage and leaving Hagerstown was revisited when she mentioned the letter she had received from Minerva. “Minerva’s letter said she had married and was living on a cattle ranch near Fort Worth, Texas. She also said she was very happy and satisfied with her situation,” she reported.

  “Well, I still think it was foolhardy to undertake such a thing,” Cora said. Of the eight other women present, two were nodding their heads in agreement. Two other ladies indicated they were happy for Minerva and while they would miss her, she had made the right choice. Mary was content to let the subject drop and the ladies moved on to other topics and events. Once again, not a stitch had been made by members of the Ladies Sewing Circle.

  She had received no mail for the past week, and it had been two weeks since Mary had answered the letter from account number 875. Today she found a letter, the return address showing Kansas City, home of The Matrimonial News. Enclosed were two letters, one of which was from number 875. It read, “Dear Account Number 920, I am in receipt of your recent letter and take pen in hand to respond. I would be pleased to correspond with you further. My daughter, Emily, who’s five, and I live on a busy ranch outside of a small community near Grapevine Texas. We have a housekeeper who also helps in the care of Emily. Rosa, the housekeeper, has been with our family for years. It is a busy time of year for us on the ranch. We have been rounding up the cattle and branding the calves that were dropped over the winter. It has been a wet spring so the grass is abundant, and we don’t have to move the cattle as often as we do in dry years. The yearlings will fatten up during the summer and we will take most of them to market following our roundup this fall. Our daily work consists of riding the fence lines and repairing fallen fences when found.

  “Our ranch house is rather large, and we have quarters for Rosa, and a bunkhouse for the ranch hands. We have a nice kitchen with water inside. My late wife and I had planned and hoped for a large family, so we built a large house in anticipation, When pneumonia took her from us two years ago, Emily and I were left with a large, unfilled house. I hope to change that. I look forward to your response. (s) Account 875.”

  Mary read the letter through twice, taking particular interest in the personal facts. She sat at her desk, contemplating her answer. “Dear Account 875, Your much anticipated letter received. I live in an average size home I inherited from my parents, since I was an only child. Your home sounds lovely and the operation of the ranch is interesting. How do you get them to market?

  “I have been a teacher in our local elementary school for several years and feel I get along well with children. What type of activity attracts Emily? Are there any friends nearby with whom she can play? We have some rather harsh winters here, but the summers are quite pleasant. What is your weather like?

  “It seems as if I might be asking too many questions. I hope you don’t feel that way. I would like to share your interests also. I attend a Lutheran church regularly. I enjoy playing the piano. I also belong to one of the circles, The Ladies Sewing Circle. It really is a chance for the local women to get together and gossip. I suppose I would be the subject if they knew about my ad. Where do your interests lie? Do you have family close?”

  She mailed the letter the same day and settled back to await an answer. Probably two weeks away. “I believe I will give the editor permission to release my name and address to number 875. We could cut the response time in half by writing directly,” she said to herself.

  Two weeks later, her answer came. When she opened it, she read that his name was Thomas Hartness, and he lived in Grapevine, TX. “Grapevine. What an interesting name, I wonder about the origin? It seems our minds run on the same track, I’m going to release my name and address also. Now that I have his address, I can write to him directly.”

  The rest of the letter was devoted to answering her questions. He had an older brother on a neighboring ranch. There were children on the ranches, but none close enough for the children to get together for playtime and Emily was too young to ride. He told her about driving his cattle to Fort Worth to market. That excited her because it meant she would be close enough to Minerva for occasional visits. The weather gets pretty hot in the summer, but the winters were usually fairly mild, with occasional snow that didn’t last long.

  She responded directly to the letter, giving her name and address. Now, after one more letter, Thomas invited Mary to meet. He agreed to pay for transportation and also return transportation if she decided they were not compatible.

  Mary went back to the bank. “Jasper Stirnbaum I’m traveling to Texas and might or might not return, but I will let you know what to do, once I decide. Any costs involved can be paid from the rental account. I will give your trust department the necessary authority.” She packed one trunk and arranged with a close friend to pack and ship her other items if she decided to stay in Texas.

  Her ticket arrived in the regular mail along with funds to cover incidental expenses along the way. It would take three and one half days to make the trip. She would be leaving from the Hagerstown train station, change trains in Washington and from there to New Orleans, where she would change again for the westbound part of her trip.

  Everything was packed and she was ready. The day before she was to leave, she went to the cemetery where her parents were buried to say goodbye. Her late husband, Joshua was buried in the National Cemetery in Gettysburg so there were no goodbyes to him. She did say a short prayer, asking for His blessing for what she was about to do..

  The day arrived; she hired a carriage to take her, along with her baggage to the train station. When the conductor called, “All aboard”, she stepped onto the train steps, turned and looked back, and then stepped onto the train. Her car was the third from the engine, and when t
he engineer advanced his throttle, there was a loud hiss, then a cloud of steam floated past her window, her view was obscured by the black smoke from the smoke stack on the engine, so she could see little outside the car until they had gained enough speed for the wind to blow the smoke away. She could hear the clackety clack of the rails as the train passed over the joints of the rails. Almost before she knew it, the train was pulling into Washington. She transferred to the Richmond and Danville Railroad for their train to New Orleans, a trip of slightly less than two and one half days. It was to be a great adventure for Mary, who had never before been even fifty miles from Hagerstown. Now she was going halfway across the country.

  Traveling through Richmond and Atlanta, she could see some of the ravages of the war that ended ten years earlier. She had a Pullman berth for the balance of her trip and took her meals in the dining car. With short stops in both Richmond and Atlanta, she was able to leave the train and walk around on the platform. She had to transfer trains again in New Orleans, but this would be the last time. She would be in Fort Worth the next morning.

  Chapter 4: Arrival In Fort Worth

  “Fort Worth, next stop is Fort Worth,” called the conductor in a loud voice that carried to the end of the Pullman Car. Mary began gathering the various items she had brought in her carpet bag. Her trunk was in the baggage car and would be unloaded by the railroad people. Nervous, she stood and peered out the window as she made her way down the aisle toward the exit. She didn’t see anything or anyone she recognized, never having been in Texas before, let alone Fort Worth.

  She stepped from the train along with six other passengers leaving the train. Looking around, she saw a man, who appeared to be in his early thirties headed in her direction. He looked to be almost six feet tall, about the right height. As he neared, she could see he was deeply tanned, the result of many hours in the sun. He removed his Stetson hat, and she saw his blond hair and blue eyes.

  “Mrs. Cartwright?” he asked in a deep, pleasant voice.

  “Yes, I’m Mary Cartwright,” she replied.

  “I’m Tom Hartness,” he said. “Welcome to Fort Worth. I’ve been looking forward to your arrival. It’s nice to meet you. Do you mind if I call you Mary?” To himself, he thought, “She is a fine looking woman, a pleasant face and a nice friendly voice.” He smiled as he introduced himself, revealing straight, white teeth.

  “Mary is fine. I’m pleased to meet you also. I’m glad to be able to put a face to the person in the letters. It has been a long trip, but interesting. I had never been out of Maryland prior to this.”

  “I’m sure you’re tired of traveling and it’s about twenty miles to the Lazy H,” he said. It will take half a day to make the trip, stopping to rest and water the horses. If we leave now, it will be just about dark when we get there.”

  “Is Emily with you?” she asked.

  “I thought the round trip would be too tiring for her, so she’s with Rosa. Ken Blake, one of the ranch hands is with me, in case we run into any trouble.”

  “What type of trouble could we run into?” she asked.

  “Oh anything, a broken wheel, or one of the horses comes up lame, things like that,” he said.

  “I have the feeling you’re leaving something out,” she said.

  “You’re very perceptive. Some Comanches have been seen in these parts. They haven’t caused any trouble in some time, but with Comanches you never know. It’s just a precaution. If you point your baggage out, Ken and I will get it into the carriage,” he said.

  As they walked to the baggage car, Tom pointed in the direction they were headed and Mary saw a carriage begin to move toward them. The driver of the carriage came to them, and Tom introduced Mary to Ken Blake.

  Blake tipped his hat and said, “Ma’am.”

  The trunk was hoisted into the carriage, Ken Blake mounted the horse that had been tied to the back of the carriage. Tom gave Mary a hand up into the carriage. The hand was callused, indicating it belonged to someone who worked with his hands. “Mary, I suggest we get a bite to eat before we leave for the ranch. It will also give us a chance to talk.”

  “That would be a nice break from the dining car food. It was good, but a change would be welcome,” she said.

  “There’s a pretty good cafe near the stockyards. I’ve eaten there after bringing cattle to the market,” he said.

  Tom gave Ken some money, and said something to him, which Mary was unable to hear. “Is Ken going to be joining us?” she asked.

  “No, he’s going to eat at the same place, but we’ll have some privacy so we can talk,” he said.

  Tom helped her down from the carriage, then held the door for her at the cafe. “He has nice manners,” Mary thought to herself. They found a table in a corner and seated themselves.

  Tom pointed to a blackboard filled with writing; “That’s the fare for today,” he said.

  A short, gray haired man came to the table; Mary noticed the apron he was wearing was clean. “What’s it gonna be folks?” he said with a pleasant drawl.

  After the waiter left, Tom said, “Mary, I don’t know how to go about this, but you’ll find me a plain spoken man. The ranch is near a small community called Grapevine, just a general store, a livery stable, and a post office. There’s a group that meets on Sunday and a traveling preacher who comes once a month to preach. I don’t want to push you into something you’re uncomfortable with, so I’ll just ask straight out, how do you want to go about this?”

  “I’ve given it a lot of thought since we agreed to meet. I have a home in Hagerstown and have arranged with the bank to manage it for me. Since you have a daughter, I think we should take her feelings into consideration too. I mentioned in my letter, I’ve been teaching in elementary school, but those children are a few years older than Emily. My late husband and I weren’t blessed with children, so my experience with children Emily’s age is limited.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he said. “Emily was three when her mother passed, so her memories of Caroline have faded and Rosa’s been taking care of her. The ranch takes me out of the house most of the daylight hours and I don’t really spend enough time with her.”

  Mary said, “Let me put this question to you, there’s always the possibility she and I simply don’t fit, what then? For that matter, you may find me unsuitable. Do you think we should have a get acquainted time?” As she was talking, she had the feeling, he had cooled somewhat, maybe disappointed. She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly, but it was there, niggling in her mind. At this point, she decided to go on. “If we marry, I intend this to be one that endures. At my age, I can’t consider any other way.”

  “Mary, what we are talking about here is unconventional, brought about by the decimation of war. There are no unmarried women in Grapevine. None. Precious few in Fort Worth. I would presume the same situation exists in reverse in Hagerstown. This would be it for me also. Regardless of the lack of companionship, I owe that to Emily. Still, I feel taking a chance is sometimes justified and I think this is one of those times.”

  “I agree with all you’ve said. Maybe I’m over thinking it and worried too much about how your daughter might react,” she admitted. “My coming here was taking a big chance. I have a dear friend who married a man she met the same way we met and she is happy and satisfied. In fact, she lives fairly near Fort Worth, outside a community called Bedford.”

  “I know Bedford. I think it’s about twelve miles from the Lazy H. Here’s what I propose. We go to the ranch, you have a look around, and meet everyone, and if you find everything agreeable, then we marry. If it doesn’t suit you, I will take you back to Fort Worth and you can return to Hagerstown, at my expense, of course.”

  “That certainly sounds reasonable, however, if I return, it will be at my expense,” she said.

  He was quiet, and sat there, picking at his food. Mary said, “Tom, this hasn’t gotten off to a good start. I’m acting like an old woman. Well, at thirty two, I guess I am getti
ng there. Can we start over?” she asked.

  “You’re certainly not an old woman. In fact, you are a comely looking lady. There aren’t any around fitting that description. I agree. Let’s do start over.”

  “Hello, Mary, I’m Tom Hartness. I am pleased to meet you.”

  “Tom, it is my pleasure to meet you. Thank you for the compliment. I don’t get many of those any more, and I appreciate it.”

  “I’m tired of living alone, Mary. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I will love and respect you for the rest of our lives.”

  “Yes,” she said. I will marry you today, and I promise to love, honor and cherish you and Emily.”

  And so, in the office of the justice of peace, a marriage license was obtained, and Tom Hartness and Mary Cartwright were united in marriage, with Ken Blake as their witness.