A Secretive Mail Order Widow For The Humorous Rancher (The Love of Low Valley Series)

by Elliee Atkinson

  “I would,” Ben replied. “But I was too young to know what was happening.”

  “You ever thought about puttin’ an ad in the paper?”

  Ben looked at the older man like he’d lost his mind.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Dean echoed. “What are you talking about?”

  Lou smiled. “How my brother got his wife. Put an ad in the paper and voila, there she was, two months later. They’re married with two kids now.”

  Ben had a hard time processing the idea at first. He could advertise for a wife?

  The longer he thought about it, the better the idea sounded.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ben Places An Ad

  Ben looked up at the sign on the post office as he went under it. He didn’t know the first thing about placing an ad, but Lou said he needed to send a telegram to a certain address and it would be placed in the papers on the east coast in Virginia, Georgia and New York.

  He also didn’t know anything about people from the east coast. When his parents migrated from Ireland when he was a baby, the orphanage that took him in after they died almost immediately sent him to live in a different orphanage on the west coast. How he ended up in Low Valley would always be a question for him, since he didn’t know who to ask for answers.

  He was just grateful he wasn’t the only Irishman in Low Valley. Having Dean there made a world of difference to him. He was like an uncle or an older brother, something Ben had never had.

  He pushed open the door and walked into a nearly empty lobby. There was a woman standing by a counter to his right, hunched over, writing on a rectangular piece of paper. The only other person in the room was the clerk, Brian.

  Ben strolled to where he was, inside his small “office” behind a glass-less window. He looked up at Ben, pushing his glasses up on his nose with one finger.

  “Mornin’,” he said. “What can I do for ya?”

  “I want to send a telegram to the New York Post,” Ben said. “I was told they would forward my ad to other newspapers on the east coast.” He handed Brian the message he’d written. “This is it.”

  Brian scanned the paper. “Ah, lookin’ for a bride, are ya? Yeah, I’ve seen these goin’ out. We even have ads like this over here, if ya can believe it. Allrighty, this is gonna be 20 cents.”

  Ben paid the man and leaned on the counter to watch while he tapped the telegram in. Brian had a very serious look on his face as he did his task, as if he was sending an important letter to the president. Ben smiled and glanced over his shoulder to see if the lady was still filling out the form. He knew her as Old Lady Ferguson, but he wouldn’t say that to her face. She was known for teaching the children playacting and putting on performances in Low Valley.

  She’d tried to coerce Ben and some of the other men on the Mason ranch to participate in some of those plays. Some of his fellow ranch hands accepted her offer. He did not. He was not the kind of man who could go onstage and do anything at all in front of a large group of people. The thought terrified him, much less the actual act of doing it.

  She was staring straight at him. He smiled, feeling a little uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him. After a moment, he realized the old woman wasn’t actually looking at him. She was deep in thought and her blank eyes just happened to be pointed in his direction.

  “Here ya go, Ben. Best of luck to ya with this! I’ll let you know when you start gettin’ responses.”

  “Do you think there will be many?” Ben felt apprehension slide through him. If he got a lot of responses from different women, how in heaven’s name was he supposed to decide?

  Brian grinned. “From my experience, that bein’ just the one fella, I’d say you will. Lots of women over there tryin’ to find a husband. Lots of men over here tryin’ to find a wife. You’ll get responses, for sure.”

  Ben nodded. “Thanks for letting me know, Brian.”

  “You’re welcome, son.”

  He turned away from the clerk, touching the tip of his finger to his hat after plopping it back on his head. He headed to the door and was stepping through when he heard Brian call out, “Mrs. Ferguson? You all right, dearie?”

  He didn’t hear if Old Lady Ferguson responded because he closed the door behind him. It was a hot day. He didn’t want the heat from outside getting in the cool room he’d just left.

  He turned to the right to go back to his horse and almost ran into Beatrice Wright, the maid at the Mason ranch. One of the better maids, in Ben’s opinion. He’d had the opportunity to talk to her on occasion and found her to be quite a delightful young woman, full of spirit and fun. However, she was also a mean-spirited person who liked to gossip and speak unkindly of others behind their backs.

  When she started on those conversations with Ben, all he could do was wonder what she was saying about him when he wasn’t around. So he avoided discussing anything serious with her and just conversed about general things. He spent most of his time with the woman joking and trying to get her to laugh. He didn’t want her going back and telling people he was an awful person. She’d said it about others, people Ben knew and respected. He didn’t take her opinion with more than a grain of salt.

  “Oh! Ben! How good to run into you!” Bee bounced back a few feet, barely avoiding slamming right into him.

  He laughed. “You almost did run into me!” he exclaimed. “Barely caught yourself. How you doing? You come into town for supplies?”

  Bee nodded, looking up at him with wide brown eyes. He wasn’t surprised by her somewhat disheveled appearance. Her hair looked like it seriously needed to be brushed and the white apron she was wearing had scattered spots all over the front. Whatever she’d been doing, the apron was desperately needed.

  “Yeah. You want to come with me? You might need some supplies of your own.”

  Ben thought about it. He could use a new razor. He nodded. “All right. Yeah. I guess I’ll walk with ya.”

  “Were you mailing a package?”

  Ben knew better than to tell Bee what he’d been doing. Everyone in Low Valley would know about it by morning and probably terribly distorted versions of it, too. He shook his head. “Nah, just sending a telegram.”

  “Oh? Who you writing to?”

  “What kind of supplies do you need?” Ben tried to interrupt her as politely as possible. He hoped she would catch on to the fact that what he’d been doing wasn’t her business and he wasn’t about to tell her what it was.

  She turned to look ahead of her as she hurried along the wooden walkway, holding her skirt up slightly with one hand. He glanced down and noticed she was wearing old, black, uncomfortable looking shoes. He frowned but turned his head away from her so she wouldn’t notice.

  The Masons paid their employees a good salary. It appeared Bee was either to stingy or too flighty to purchase proper shoes for the kind of work she did. He knew for a fact she was on her feet nearly all the time.

  He made up his mind to buy her a pair of shoes. He would have to be sneaky about it, perhaps going into the maids’ room while they weren’t there to check for the size and then slipping the new pair under her bed or somewhere with a big ribbon. He wouldn’t tell her who they were from.

  “Oh, some different things, soap, hair shampoo, a new scrub brush for the washroom. You men leave a lot of stains in there! I swear, you should start cleaning it yourselves sometime!”

  Ben chuckled. “We have to wash the one in the bunkhouse, so you aren’t telling me anything I didn’t already know.”

  She looked up at him, wrinkling her dainty little, dirt-covered nose. “You men… just so dirty!”

  He shrugged. “We work pretty hard to get that way,” he responded. “Keeps you women from having to get that way. Can’t have you messing up your delicate hands, can we?”

  She shook her head, smiling. “Who would gently wash the faces of your children?” she asked, innocently, batting her eyelashes at him. He was suddenly overcome with a
sense of uneasiness.

  He laughed nervously. “Yes, who would?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Nancy Reads The Ad

  Nan stepped into the corner delicatessen, delighted by the breeze that swept over her from the fans running all around the place. She was intrigued by the intricacies of the system they used to keep the fans going. It was something beyond her understanding. All she knew was that this was the coolest deli in Atlanta and she would never get tired of going there.

  It was one of the places she and Johnny visited frequently before his death. They’d been together since they were just fourteen years old, sharing a birthday that drew them close when they were very small children.

  As an orphan, Nan felt lucky when she found Johnny and his large, extended family. She thought she’d been blessed with everything she’d ever wanted. To have it all ripped away so easily, so quickly, it was like a hot knife in her heart, melting it like butter.Rather, it was more like taking a ball-peen hammer to a mirror. Her entire life was shattered when Johnny died.

  She tried to block out the thoughts. Her love for him still ebbed and flowed through her body, making her feel at times warm, at other times cold. She walked the streets and went about her daily life in a fog, her worries and stresses overwhelming her to the point where she barely paid attention to anything going on around her, so deep was she in her thoughts.

  Helen tried to keep her entertained and lively. She could tell her best friend was worried about her.

  She walked past a small stand at the entrance that held newspapers. She might as well read while she was eating her breakfast. She might be able to find a job somewhere nearby. She had a small amount of savings. Not nearly enough to get herself somewhere to live, but enough to get a stagecoach ticket to somewhere else.

  She wished she had family to fall back on. The thought took her back to what she’d been thinking about previously, how the Simpson family completely turned their back on her, as if it was her fault the bank had been robbed on that day. As if it was her fault Johnny felt the need to jump in front of a female teller to keep her from being shot. There were only four people in the bank that day, Johnny, his fellow bank teller, Anna, the manager, Thomas, and a customer.

  Johnny was shot and the outlaws fled with a good amount of cash in their money belts. It left a huge gaping hole in the lives of Nan and the Simpson family. However, they weren’t willing to share that pain with her. They left her on her own to deal with it, just like the rest of her life.

  She took the top paper and went to the counter to give the girl her order. She turned and pointed to the table where she planned to sit. “I’ll be over there by the window,” she said in a soft voice. The girl, Jessica by her name tag, knew Nan well. She’d been in several times a week for almost a year. It was going to be her tradition, enjoying solo lunches there whenever she could. Now, she didn’t care whether she was solo or not. She wished she’d brought Johnny with her once or twice, so she could enjoy a memory of him there. However, maybe that’s why she could handle even going there. Because it held no memories of Johnny. The more she went to places that reminded her of him, which was too frequent for her liking, the more pain she felt. She didn’t want to feel the pain. She rejected the pain. She wanted to remember the love she had for her husband, but not the pain of losing him.

  She pulled in a deep breath and slid into the seat, unfolding the newspaper. She flipped through the pages, ignoring everyone else in the deli. She had no interest in them or their lives. She had enough to deal with in her own.

  She turned to the help wanted section and began scanning through it. There weren’t many placement options. She ran her eyes down the page forlornly, looking for something a woman might be able to do besides sewing and being a nanny, neither of which she was skilled at. She felt she could handle her own children when she had them. Other people’s children she might not find so tolerable.

  Her eyes settled on an ad. She blinked several times and read it over just as many times.

  Woman sought for possible betrothal. I seek a wife to love and cherish.

  If you have good moral standards and don’t mind a hard day’s work for someone

  you love, send me a letter.

  Nan had to read the ad a few times before she comprehended what was really being asked for. He wasn’t advertising for a maid or a nanny. He wanted a wife. An actual wife.

  That’s what she was. That’s what Nan was born to be. A wife and mother. She’d felt it in her bones from the time she could form thought. She was sure of it. She looked down at the address. Low Valley, Nevada. She’d never heard of it, but that didn’t surprise her.

  “You want a wife, Mr. Connelly?” she murmured aloud before scanning the room around her to see if anyone heard. “I’m gonna write to you,” she whispered, looking back down at the ad, excitement running through her. “And maybe someday I’ll be your wife.”

  For some reason, the thought of being married to the strange man who placed the ad for a wife made a tingle of excitement run through Nan’s body from her neck to her tailbone. She felt her heart thumping, a feeling that hadn’t happened in any positive way since Johnny’s death.

  It had only been two weeks, but the feeling was refreshing. She wanted to be happier. She knew that’s what Johnny would want. However, she’d never considered immediately getting married again, especially not to a stranger all the way across America.

  Something about the ad made Nan want to go home immediately and pen him a letter. She wanted to go to the nearest store, purchase the necessary items and go to the library to write it. Whatever she did, the urgency to get it done was almost overwhelming to her.

  She looked up when the serving girl came to her table. “I just want some sausage and eggs, Lynette,” she said quickly. “And if you have any paper and a pen back there that you wouldn’t mind letting me borrow, I promise I’ll leave a few cents for the paper and ink.”

  Lynette raised her eyebrows. “Okay, Nan. I can get that for you.”

  Nan watched Lynette walk back toward the kitchen and bar, surprised by the level of excitement she felt. She turned her eyes and looked out the window, adrenaline flooding through her. She pictured herself in the desert sands of Nevada, though she had no real clue what it was like. She pictured dust flying through the air and rotting wooden buildings ready to fall down. Is that what she wanted?

  The ad didn’t say if he was a wealthy ranch owner. Nan assumed if he was, he would have said so. He must feel he could provide a good home for a woman or he wouldn’t have advertised for one.

  Nan’s thoughts strayed to how much she wanted to say to him, what she wanted to tell him in her letter. Could she, should she, say that she was married once already? How would he feel if he knew he was not getting a “fresh” woman? She would be at the bottom of the choosing list if she told him the truth.However, starting out a relationship or a marriage on lies didn’t sit well with Nan. She wanted to be upfront and honest with her husband at all times. That was how she was with Johnny. She wouldn’t disrespect another man by behaving differently.

  She licked her lips and stared down at the ad, trying to decide. By the time she’d made up her mind, her food arrived and she knew exactly what she wanted to do.

  CHAPTER 4

  Nan Writes A Letter

  Nan sat at her desk in her room and prepared herself for the letter she was about to write. How could she explain the dire need she was in for a home? Should she tell him right away what had happened to her? She worried he would reject her if she had already been married.

  She stared at the paper in front of her for a few minutes, tapping the pen against the desk. What could she say?

  She started it off as simply as she could.

  Dear Mr. Connelly,

  I am writing in response to your inquiry for a wife. I saw your ad in the paper. I would like to respectfully submit myself as a candidate for this position. I am 21 years old and was born and raised here in Georgia. I have dark b
lond hair and blue eyes. I am of average height and weight and my doctor says I am very healthy. I love this land in Georgia, as it is very pretty. I would very much like to come to Nevada and experience what it is like on the West coast. I have never been out of Atlanta in my life.

  I have no family and have recently been left destitute, looking for shelter and a position where I will feel dignified and welcome. I did not know I would need to find a home until the last month and I am in need of help.

  Please respond to my inquiry if you are interested in talking to me. I look forward to receiving a letter from you.

  Sincerely,

  Nancy Simpson

  Nan scanned the letter, looking for anything she might have missed that Ben Connelly should know. She couldn’t think of anything interesting to tell about herself other than what she’d written. She would have to write it all over again if she wanted to add anything so she accepted it the way it was. Paper wasn’t cheap and she needed to preserve as much of it as she could. When Johnny was alive, anything she wanted or needed was at her fingertips.

  Sadness overwhelmed her. Their wedding had been so beautiful. She could see the love in his eyes as he said his vows, promising to love and protect her until death.

  The end had come too soon. How could she survive without him?

  She inhaled sharply and shook her head. She couldn’t think that way. She would survive. Maybe Mr. Ben Connelly would help make that happen.

  She folded the paper in three folds and slipped it into an envelope. Her heart was beating fast, adrenaline rushing through her body as she stood up. It was early in the afternoon. She had plenty of time to get to the post office and send the letter to Mr. Connelly.

  Her head was spinning with excitement, even though she knew it would be a while before she’d have a response from him. If she even got one. She probably wasn’t the only woman responding to such an inquiry, and others would have better qualifications than she did. However, she had to keep her hopes up. She had to think positive. She would work for her peace and security until she had no breath left in her body.