"Why is he here?" I asked in a harsh whisper, "Shouldn't he be in the hotel?"
"He is a guest, Rose," she said back, sounding like she was scolding me, "The hotel is far too busy for him to get any rest, and we must be back on the train in the morning. He came all this way to meet with me. I thought the only
thing was to give him a comfortable place to rest and a home cooked meal."
She swept out of the room and I knew that that was the end of the conversation. Even though she said that she was only being hospitable, I felt like there was something more going on. Perhaps something that even she had not come to recognize herself.
Chapter 8
My Dear Rebecca,
You have only been gone a few weeks and I already miss you so. I am so grateful that you left the address to your gentleman so that I can send you this letter now rather than having to wait for you to send a letter to me first. I do not think I could stand another moment of keeping this to myself. I wish you would be able to reply to me before I must make this decision.
Lucy has left and I am alone in our house for the first time in my life. I would never tell anyone else, but sometimes I am frightened by the emptiness of the space around me. I hope that you are doing well and that my three beloved sisters will find their happiness.
I suppose I have delayed telling you this long enough. Here I go.
I placed myself in a mail order bride catalog. You must be startled by that, but I will explain myself. After not finding an advertisement that I felt was right for me, I found out that the widow Bronson has an agency that places eligible young women in catalogs that are sent to the men in the Frontier. The men then choose a woman and begin a correspondence.
I placed my picture and profile a few weeks ago, and just yesterday, I received a response. It came much more quickly than I anticipated. Mrs. Bronson told me that she did not even send the catalog until the end of June, so I was not expecting a response until August at the earliest.
The gentleman said that he will be in Boston soon and that he would like for us to meet to see if we are compatible before moving forward with our plans. I do not know what to say to him. I know this is what I intended. I want to get to the Frontier and start something new, but the thought makes me nervous. What if we do not like each other? What if he does not want me reading or cannot carry on a conversation with me over supper?
Are there any other prospective wives that worry about these things?
I am sending this letter along with one to Jane that Lucy wrote before she left. I would send my response to the gentleman along with them, but he said to simply forward it through Mrs. Bronson. Do you think that strange? Perhaps he lives somewhere so unsettled that it must go to a central location rather than to his home. I would not mind that. It would give me the opportunity to actually work and be a part of something exciting for a change.
I suppose I will bring Mrs. Bronson my response tomorrow. If I can decide what to say, that is. Please write to me as soon as you can.
All my love,
--Rose
Chapter 9
"Jane, I was wondering if you –" I started as I entered the house after returning from dropping the letters off at the post office.
I stopped short in the entryway, suddenly remembering that Jane was not there. None of my sisters were there. I was truly, completely alone. Though I had thought about it many times before and pondered how fantastic it would be to just stay in Boston and pursue my interests here while living in Father's house as I always had, the sinking reality of it all was much more intense than I could have imagined.
The halls seemed to echo the silence until it filled my ears and made me feel dizzy. My mind seemed to strain for the sound of voices and laughter, or even the familiar swish of skirts along the floor, but there was nothing.
I removed my gloves and lay them on the entryway table. I paused and then removed my bonnet and laid it beside the gloves. Lucy always scolded me for cluttering up that table with my accessories, and it felt strangely liberating to be able to place them there without having anyone question me.
I took off my boots and placed them beside the door and then loosened the button at the top of my dress. The little release of pressure was amazing and I smiled. If I could simply distract myself with doing all of the things that I didn't do when my sisters where in the home with me, perhaps I would get through these most difficult first few weeks, or at least until I heard back from the gentleman who had contacted me through Mrs. Bronson's service.
I sat in the parlor sometime later, pondering what Mrs. Gregory had said when I first heard about the agency. She had likened the young women in the catalog to pieces of calico, and as I sat there staring out at the slowly setting sun, I considered how I felt about being a part of it. In a way, I did feel like a piece of calico. I had to include a picture of myself as well as a brief profile telling anyone reading through the catalog simple things about myself. It was not unlike the images and descriptions of the goods in the catalog at the store.
Something about taking that initiative, however, had made me feel more in control and more powerful. Rather than responding to an advertisement and allowing the men to pick through all of the letters they received to choose the one that appealed to them the most, I had been the one to start the connection, ensuring that if there was anyone who was going to be sorting through potentially interested parties in order to select the most appropriate option, it was going to be me.
Father had always taught me that he would always rather offer help than ask for it, and I felt like I had made much the same decision. By joining the agency and being a part of the catalog, I was clearly expressing what I had to offer and waiting for someone to choose me, rather than responding to a plea for help and hoping that I would at least somewhat fit the needs of the man on the other end.
As soon as I had that thought, I felt a little bit guilty. I knew that my three sisters had made the decision to respond to the advertisements, and as a result, all of them were well on their way to becoming the devoted wives the Frontier men had sought out. That path was simply not for me.
Chapter 10
Dear Miss Adams,
I wish I could find the words to express my delight at discovering your inclusion in this most recent catalog. I have been waiting for longer than I care to admit for someone to come along that would seem the right choice for me, and I knew the moment that I saw your picture that it was you who I have been waiting for all this time. Please respond to me soon. Bring your letter to Mrs. Bronson's agency and she will ensure I get it.
I read through the short letter again, trying to come up with what I was going to say back to him. It struck me as strange that he hadn't signed his name to it, and that he specifically requested that I bring my response to Mrs. Bronson to get it to him. After a few more moments of pondering the letter, however, I realized that what I knew about the Frontier was extremely limited, and that it may be completely expected for a woman going through an agency to send all of her correspondence that way.
Lucy always scolded me for my curiosity and suspicion, and it seemed that they were getting the most of me again. I decided to push away those thoughts and focus on coming up with my response. A single drop of ink had fallen from the tip of my pen onto my paper and I tried to include it the first word I wrote so I didn't waste the paper.
Dear Sir,
Thank you for your reply. I admit that I am quite surprised at how quickly it came. I was not expecting to hear from anyone for another few weeks. I am very pleased that your response came sooner, however. My three sisters have recently left Boston and I am now alone.
I paused after writing that last sentence and stared at it for a few moments. I wasn't sure I wanted to open myself up that much to a man whose name I didn't even know. It seemed so forward, yet at the same time it was honest, and I could not be faulted for speaking honestly to a man who may eventually become my husband. I considered it for a few seconds longer before deci
ding that I would keep the note as it was. I finished it up, signed my name, and slipped it into an envelope.
Before I could lose my nerve, I grabbed my bonnet and started out of the house toward Mrs. Bronson's home.
Chapter 11
August, 1866
Dear Diary,
How do I even describe what has been happening the last few days? I brought my response to the gentleman that wrote to me to Mrs. Bronson and she seemed to expect it, so I suppose that is how agencies handle these correspondences. Before I could leave the home, however, she handed me another letter.
This gentleman had not even received a letter back from me to let him know if I was interested in his pursuit, or if I had already received a response, and he had already written to me again. Does that not seem strange? It only gets even stranger.
When I returned home, I was preparing supper when I heard someone at the door. It was not a knock or a ring of the bell. Rather, it was someone trying to open the door. I admit I was immediately frightened. Everyone in the city knew that my sisters had left and that I was living in the home alone.
What if someone nefarious meant to come in, overpower me, and rob the home? I reached for the only weapon I could find, a meat mallet, and crossed the room so that I stood behind the wall, glancing around the doorframe at the hallway. If someone came in the home, they would likely first go down this hall.
A few moments later I heard the door open and a loud thud as if whoever it was had dropped something immediately upon entering the home. Then I heard sobbing. I crept down the hallway, still holding the mallet, and when I came to the foyer, I found Lucy.
She was sitting on her trunk, her pretty little face buried in her hands, sobbing as if her heart would break at any second. She had spent only a day in Oregon before discovering that her gentleman was not who she thought he was and decided to come back home. I did not tell her that I did not believe it was truly her pain over Mr. Thornton that was really devastating her so much; that I knew that she was weeping over Nathan.
That, however, is still not the strangest event that happened. I stayed with Lucy for the rest of the evening and through the night. It was not until the next day that she relented to me leaving her side. I left her sleeping in her room and headed directly to Mrs. Bronson's home, intending to tell her that I needed her to send my deepest regrets to the gentleman that wrote to me and withdraw me from the catalog. I knew that I could not leave Lucy alone. I would have to stay until she found another gentleman and returned to Oregon.
Imagine my surprise when I got to Mrs. Bronson's home and she was not there, but her son, Alan was. Alan and I had attended school together when we were young, but we were not what I would call friends. He greeted me at the door, but did not seem surprised to see me. Instead, he asked if I had a response to my letter. I said no and explained the situation, demurring from getting into detail about what Lucy was facing. Here is the truly strange part…he told me to wait to make my final decision and to come back the next day with a response.
Is he working for his mother finding brides for Frontier men now?
--Rose
Chapter 12
"I don't want to write a response," I said the next day, holding the last letter from my gentleman out to Alan, "Please tell your mother that she may express my regrets if she chooses, but I will not be writing to that gentleman anymore and I need to be withdrawn from the catalog."
I repeated exactly what I had told him the day before slowly and as clearly as I could, hoping that it would sink in and he would take the letter so that I couple simply leave and get back to Lucy.
"I can't do that, Rose," he told me.
"Why not?"
I felt like I was right back in grade school, listening as Alan and his friends teased me. They loved to taunt me for being a tomboy and for always having mud on my skirts from playing in the schoolyard before class rather than sitting politely at the desks like the other girls. Even though I was a grown woman with perfectly clean skirts, I suddenly felt like that hurt little girl again and I was not enjoying the feeling.
"The gentleman already wrote you another letter."
I stared at him quizzically.
"He hasn't even gotten my first response yet. Why on Earth would he write me another letter?"
"Because he didn't want to have to wait, and he didn't want to risk that your response wouldn't be what he wanted to read."
"I don't understand."
Alan stepped back and gestured toward the house.
"Please come in."
"Lucy is at home waiting for me."
"Please."
I followed Alan into the house and watched him settle onto the sofa. He gestured toward the chair beside him.
"Alan, it has been lovely to see you again," I said, forcing politeness to take precedence over true honesty, "but I really do not have much time. My sister is going through a very difficult time right now and I need to be there for her."
"What happened?"
I hesitated. I wanted to preserve Lucy's privacy, but telling him, at least some of it, may encourage him to help me get out of my involvement in the catalog.
"She went to Oregon to meet a gentleman who had put an advertisement in the newspaper looking for a wife. Unfortunately, he was nothing like what she thought and now she is home."
I left out the details of what had brought her back home. Some things simply should not be shared outside of the family.
"Why did you not choose to respond to an advertisement like your sisters did?"
I opened my mouth to answer, and then stopped to narrow my eyes at him.
"I only mentioned that Lucy had responded to an advertisement. How did you know that all of my sisters had?"
He seemed to stumble over his thoughts for a few moments.
"My mother told me."
I bristled slightly.
"Your mother tells you about the women who join her agency?"
He slid forward on his seat and gazed into my eyes.
"Just you. I saw your picture while she was putting together the catalog."
"And you asked about me?"
Alan nodded.
"I have wanted to talk to you again since I left for college. I have always felt so terrible about the how I treated you while we were younger. I hope that you understand why I did it."
"I don't know if I do."
I suddenly felt slightly breathless. Alan walked to the other side of the parlor and opened the drawer of a desk in the corner. He withdrew a stack of thick papers and brought them over to me. He didn't say anything, but placed the papers on my lap.
I glanced down at them and saw that they were the pages of the catalog.
"Look at them."
Looking up at him briefly, I turned my attention back to the pages and started leafing through them. My eyes scanned over the pictures of the other women who had joined Mrs. Bronson's agency. I went through each page, not realizing until I had gotten to the very end that I had not seen my own picture.
Chapter 13
"Are you sure that you are alright?" Lucy asked me.
She was finally smiling again as she watched the driver carry her trunks out to the carriage. She was leaving again, and again I was going to be alone. Everything had changed so drastically in the less than two weeks that she had been home, and I was still trying to process it all.
"I will be fine, Lucy," I told her, putting on my bravest smile, "I don't want you worrying about me during your trip. Enjoy it. Write to me when you get to Oregon."
Lucy smiled at me and kissed my cheek before following the driver out to the carriage and letting him help her up into it. She waved at me through the window and the horses started, carrying her toward the train station with the man seated beside her.
I closed the door behind me and took a long breath. I was just starting toward the kitchen to make tea when I heard a loud knock on the door directly behind my head.
"Excuse me," I said harshly, pulling the
door open, "It is rude to knock so loudly."
"It is also rude to ignore people who are trying to get in touch with you," Alan said from the porch.
I squared my shoulders at him and set my jaw.
"I was not ignoring you."
"I have been calling on you and sending messages for five days. You have not responded to a single one."
"Well, you should be used to that," I snapped at him, "After all, you wrote me three times when you had not received a response."
"I told you that I was sorry for the way that I handled that. Please, can I come in so that your neighbors can stop peering at us through the windows?"
"They will peer even more if I allow a man into my house only moments after my sister left, leaving me completely alone."
"Then can we at least sit and have a civilized conversation?"
I sighed, but relented to the request. I knew that if I didn't he would only continue to pester me, and I didn't have the patience to deal with that. Stepping out of the house, I closed the door behind me and led him across the porch to the small bench positioned close enough to a hedge that it would shield us from the curious eyes of the neighbors who were watching us.
"I asked your mother to include me in that catalog for a reason, Alan. You had no right to tell her to remove my picture."
"Your reason was to find a man who wanted to marry you, was it not?"
I glanced at him.
"I suppose."
"Then your reason was fulfilled."
"When we were young you had no interest in me at all. You teased me for wanting to play sports with the boys and for being smart. You made sure that no one would pay any attention to me. You even flirted shamelessly with my sisters at parties."
"Fortunately, they never returned the affection."
Brides of Grasshopper Creek Page 43
