Charity: Mail Order Brides Of Wichita Falls Book 4

by Cyndi Raye

  Table of Contents

  Charity: Mail Order Brides Of Wichita Falls

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Charity: Mail Order Brides

  of

  Wichita Falls

  by

  Cyndi Raye

  Copyright © 2016 www.CyndiRaye.com All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  Chapter 1

  Charity marched up the two flights of stairs to the smokey offices in the three story building in the center of Chicago’s business district. The Chicago Tribute was ripe and rolling with hard core male news reporters and a bevy of professional men who would stomp across the next reporters back to get the story of the hour. Not one person acknowledged her in this man’s world.

  She slipped through the door to stand in front of an oversized desk cluttered with newspapers and dried coffee stains dotting the mess. This is it! After two years working those horrible assignments, I’m finally going to be promoted!

  Charity stood inside the door, her chin in the air. She smoothed her skirts with delicate hands trying not to show how nervous she was inside. A knowing smile kept interfering with the stoic look she was trying to present to Barry Simms, the general manager of the newspaper. She had been offered a chance to show her true skills last week when a fire broke out in one of the major department stores. For the last few days she barely slept, investigating the fire, talking to neighbors and eye witnesses who claimed to have seen someone leaving the building right before it burst into flames. Charity had been the first reporter to interview the witness, the only reporter to get the whole story. That had to account for something. Now they were so close to finding the culprit and her story could reach out to others that may know who the instigator was as she had an eye witness accounting of the whole thing.

  She usually was sent to the women’s sewing circle, or a gardening expedition to report on the types of flowers that grew in certain soils. It wasn’t the type of hard core reporting Charity wanted to do. As a woman, she knew she’d have to work harder and smarter to move up in the ranks of newsworthy reporters, which happened to be crowded with men.

  Today was the day to prove herself. After she had handed in her prize article yesterday, she had gone home to an empty apartment to pace the floor most of the evening. Her room mate was out celebrating her last day in Chicago. Sleep evaded her, instead, dreams of being cast aside peppered her thoughts. Yet, when she realized she had first dibbs at the top reporter position, she forged ahead, deciding it didn’t matter if she were a woman but what mattered was she told a great story. They would see it, they had to. Obviously, someone did see her potential as she was called to the top managers office the moment she walked in the door this morning. Now here she stood in front of Barry Simms.

  Trying not to show nerves of any sort one way or the other, Charity clasped her hands behind her back, standing as tall as was humanly possible. “Good morning, sir.”

  Barry leaned back in his padded chair, the rollers on the legs making a creepy squeaking sound as he pushed the chair back against the wall. He stared hard.

  She got the impression he was angry. Since this was the first time she actually came face to face with this man of high position, Charity decided to steel herself and smile. It was a matter of principle for her. No matter what happened, she would never let anyone see her get emotional. A dull ache began in her belly. She had an instant suspicion this wasn’t about the promotion, not with the look of anger on the man’s face.

  She decided to get to the point. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

  He continued to stare. His jaw dropped, making a clicking noise right before he picked up her report and handed it back to her.

  Charity stiffened her back before taking it from his hand. Looking down, her brow furrowed. “This is my report. I’m assuming you didn’t like what you read?”

  Barry reached across his desk to another pile of papers. Picking one from the top, he handed it to her. “Read the by-line and the first paragraph.”

  She did. “Sir?”

  “Who is the reporter named on the piece you are holding?”

  “Jimmy Fallstown.” Charity scanned the piece with observant eyes, not believing what she was reading. “It can’t be! This was stolen,” she claimed, fury spreading over her face. “Stolen, from me,” she added.

  “Perhaps you can explain to me why your same report is exactly as Jimmys?”

  “He stole it, that conniving little creep!”

  Barry grunted. He stood up, towering over Charity like a hangman’s noose. “I gave you a chance to prove yourself, Miss Johnson. I was almost sure you would give me a good report. Almost had me convinced a woman could do a man’s job.” He shook his head back and forth, obviously disappointed.

  Charity snapped her head back, looking up at him with blue eyes the color of sapphires. She threw the report back on his desk. “Mine is not fraudulent. I wrote that piece and my name shall be on it, so help me, God.” She crossed her arms over herself and stared hard at Barry Simms. General manager or not, she had to convince him that Jimmy Fallstown was the fraud, not her.

  “Jimmy’s been here a long time, Miss Johnson. Calling him a fraud isn’t a smart move to the top.”

  “Why? Because he stole my paper I worked hard on, I should sit back and accept this because I am a woman? The man’s gotten lazy. Look at him?” She turned and pointed to the window where the hub of reporter’s desks could be seen in the large rectangular area. Jimmy leaned casually back in his seat, sipping coffee and reading a newspaper, arrogant as all get out.

  “You can’t be accusing a man like him of stealing your work. How in the world could he steal this? It was here on my desk from the time you handed it in yesterday.”

  Charity fumed. She tipped her head to the side and stared right back at Barry Simms. “I want you to call him in here. Let’s see what he has to say.”

  “No.”

  “Do it or I will.”

  “Words like that will get you fired.”

  “I’m probably fired anyway. I want him to know I am on to him. Call him.”

  Barry sighed. He turned to the large picture window and rapped on the glass. Many heads turned but he pointed to Jimmy and waved him in. It didn’t take long for the skinny reporter to knock on the glass door.

  “Enter.”

  Jimmy smiled sweetly at Charity as if he didn’t just steal her whole livelihood.

  She stared at him with all the contempt and anger mustered from deep inside.

  “How can I help you, boss?” Jimmy took a seat opposite Barry, who was still standing behind his own desk.

  “Miss Johnson appears to have the same report as you. What do you have to say?”

  “Charity? You copied from me?” His words grated on her ears because he didn’t seem at all surprised. She wanted to take the smirk right off his face. If she weren’t a woman, she would give him a punch in the gut. Hard. Grinding her teeth together so she wouldn’t cry out at what a snake he was, she sucked in a deep breath and tried to stay calm.

  “I know you stole my work, Jimmy. I don’t know how you managed to accomplish such a task, but I suggest you tell Mr. Simms the truth.”


  Jimmy acted affronted. “I’ll do no such thing. I’m afraid you stopping at my desk every day for the last few days proved to be unsettling now that I think about things. You were pretending to be nice and all you wanted was to steal my project. How dare you?”

  Charity’s hands went to her hips. “Is that all the better you can do? I’ll be right back.” Leaving the two, she hurried down the steps, rushing to her cubicle where her draft copy of the report laid under a ransacked pile of papers. She snatched it up and hurried back upstairs, ignoring the stares that followed. The smell of strong coffee wafted in the air. Keys from typewriters chirped as other reporters worked on their own pieces. She firmly closed the door, drowning out the noise.

  Walking over to the general managers desk, she ignored the smirk on Jimmy’s face. “Sir? Here is my draft.”

  “You stole my draft, too? Impossible what some new reporters will do to best me.”

  She turned. “This draft is mine.” She handed it to Barry. “Look at it. I circle all my corrections and initial each page.” She pointed to the letters C and J in the right lower corner of the pages.

  Barry turned each page, looking through the paper. Relief surged through the coarse of her veins. As he stared at the draft, she turned to Jimmy, raising a brow in his direction. The smirk never left his face as he shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself deeper into the chair.

  When she turned back to Barry he was holding the papers out to her. She took them back and smiled. “Well?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Johnson. This draft tells me nothing. Jimmy has been here a long, long time. You’ve been here two years. I have to believe that he is telling the truth.”

  “But my initials are right here! Are you daft?” Charity knew those words would get her fired but her temper was getting the upper hand. How could a reasonable and intelligent man miss the point?

  When she stared in his eyes she saw the pity there. Pity for her? She didn’t want his pity, she wanted a chance that she deserved. Her paper was one of the best articles she had ever written. “This isn’t fair,” she told him again. “How can you not acknowledge that I am the true owner of this article?”

  Barry stammered a bit but then his shoulders went back and he stared hard at her. “Miss Johnson, I’m afraid in light of all this, I’m going to have to let you go. I can’t have you stealing another man’s reports. As a woman reporter, this won’t look good for your kind at all.”

  For her kind? She sputtered. “The hell you say? For your information, I quit, you can’t fire me!” With that, she ripped the good report from his desk and turned on her heels. Picking up her skirts, Charity stopped when she reached Jimmy. “Charity Johnson. Remember that name,” she told him between gritted teeth. She stomped to the door and flung it open. “You would be best to remember because someday I’ll be bigger and more famous than little Jimmy Fallstown, the has-been lame reporter that can’t write his own work. You wait and see!”

  <><>

  The apartment was cold and lonely when Charity finally got home. She lit the oil lamps, pacing the floor of their tiny, two bedroom hole in the wall where she and her best friend, Samantha Malone, had lived for the last few years. The two had been together in college. Charity learning how to become a reporter and Sami, as she like to be called, graduated from the school of nursing. The two became fast friends after taking a class together and decided to share the expenses of this tiny apartment along the river. Now Sami was moving on, getting married to a stranger she had never met somewhere out west and Charity would be alone.

  Without a job.

  For the last two weeks she had tried to find a job as a reporter but every single news office refused to hire a woman. She would have to fix things before her entire savings was used up in rent since Sami would be leaving tomorrow and the rent was due in five days. She may be able to pay for a few months but after that, if she didn’t find work, she’d be homeless.

  The door knob turned and Sami flew through the door, her impeccable smile changing Charity’s mood. Sami had that effect on everyone she came in contact with.

  “I’m so excited!” She told Charity. “I’m sad to leave you but look at what Mr. Good sent me.” She held out the envelope for Charity to take.

  Charity’s eyes widened when she saw the pile of cash inside. “He sent you this?”

  “Yes, so I don’t have to spend my own money on the trip. He’s paid for a train ticket and all my meals. I can’t wait to meet him!”

  Charity hugged her friend. “I’m so happy for you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  Her friend wrapped her arms around Charity and sniffled. “I will miss you so much. The man is a doctor and he needs a nurse for his growing practice. It’s the perfect opportunity for me to do good. From what I understand the growing town is in terrible need of medical assistance. I can’t wait to go there and show them what I learned.”

  “I know you will be a wonderful nurse. I will miss you terribly.”

  Sami smiled through a bevy of tears. “I wish you would think about what I said.”

  Charity stepped back. “I am not sure what you mean?”

  “Here.” Sami reached for the paper sitting on a small desk along the wall. “I kept this for you. Go ahead and read it, who knows, you may find someone who will accompany your deepest wishes and desires.”

  “Oh, Sami, that sounds like a proposition!”

  The two giggled.

  “Promise me, Charity, that you will at least consider becoming a mail order bride.”

  The thought made her cringe. “I don’t want to be attached to someone I don’t know! Why, what if they turned out like the men at the Chicago Tribute? Men so arrogant who don’t think a woman can do anything except cook and clean and keep their beds warm?”

  Sami smiled. “Oh, Charity, no wonder you are a newswoman. Your imagination is so wild! There are plenty of men looking for a wife for other reasons as well. They are looking for a partner, someone that will help them in their chosen field. Perhaps you can find someone like that, a newsman worthy of you.”

  “I doubt a man like that exists outside of your imagination, Sami.”

  She shrugged. “Look at me then, Charity. I do believe I’ve found the man of my dreams. We’ve been writing back and forth for months now. He is kind and gentle and a doctor who is well respected. The owner of the mail order bride agency investigates everyone listed in her directory. She won’t put anyone in there who is a fraud. Trust me on this. It may be the only way you can ever become a newsworthy reporter in this day and age. You’ve got so much against you here in Chicago.”

  “You’re not kidding, Sami. I’m done in this town. No one will hire me. I guess maybe I’ll take a look.”

  Excitement shown in her friend’s eyes as they made supper together in the kitchen for the last time. They both grabbed a plate and scoured the want ads as they settled at the small wooden table against the wall of the tiny kitchen.

  Sami began to read some of the ads. “I am 40 years young and tired of the bachelor life. Looking for a woman not over 20 who can cook, clean and not ugly. Well educated and who has at least twenty thousand dollars of her own money.”

  Charity shook her head. “Forget it, too old.”

  “Here’s another. Aged 28, dark hair and eyes and considered handsome by former girlfriends. Looking for someone who likes to have fun while keeping house and desires to take care of 4 children.”

  “Not for me.”

  “Okay, here. How about this one,” Sami told her, obvious frustration in her tone. “Man of means looking for not only a partner but a hard worker. Will consider marriage after one year of working my farm.”

  Charity laughed out loud. “Oh, Sami. Stop. If I want someone I’ll make my own advertisement and put it in the paper. I can write an advertisement much better than any of these.”

  Sami’s head snapped up from the paper. “That’s perfect. Let’s write a letter to an intended groom o
f what you want and when you see me off at the train station tomorrow morning, stop by Angela Brown’s Agency. She’ll take care of the rest, find you the perfect partner and mate.”

  They spent the next few hours compiling a letter to be sent to a man looking for a bride who didn’t want to be a bride but who wanted to further her career. Charity was shocked she let Sami convince her to go through with this, but if her instincts were right, she’d have to do something drastic. Soon. Her money would be gone in a few weeks and without a job, there was nothing keeping her here in Chicago any longer.

  Chapter 2

  “I’ve already written a letter confirming my availability. There isn’t much time to waste, so I took it upon myself to do so.” Charity stood face to face with the owner of the Angel Matchmaking Agency Sami had sent her to. The same one who found Sami a groom she was about to meet up with in a few days.

  “Thank you. It certainly will save time. You say you are a newspaper woman?”

  Charity nodded to the beautiful lady standing there. She had silky dark hair, almost black, set in a long braid that hung over one shoulder in a romantic way. Her flowing skirts were feminine and made of expensive silk. The thought occurred to Charity there may be a story here. Why would such a beautiful women be hiding in a store front office matching women with partners out west?

  “You are wondering why I am doing this?”

  Charity grinned. “Yes.” She was always honest and strait to the point and didn’t like people to lie. It made her a great reporter but as a person, it sometimes offended others.

  Angela Brown scanned Charity’s letter. She lifted her chin and smiled, a dimple in the left cheek. “Perhaps someday I will tell you my story. But not today.”

  “Promise?” Charity asked. She wanted first chance at this woman’s life story. Most of all she wanted to know what made the other woman do this kind of work. “I think your situation may be an interesting story to write about.”