by Al Lacy
If Linda went to California and married Blake Barrett, they would see very little of her in the future. So, unless they were in agreement that she should go, she would not do it.
Her parents had taught her to have a measure of independence and to rely on the Lord in her decisions, and she took courage in that as she stood before them with her news. Her heart was filled with love for these two people who meant the world to her.
“I’d say our little girl is about to reveal the mystery to us,” Adrienne said to her husband.
Nolan set kind eyes on Linda. “Well, sweet baby girl, we’re waiting.”
“Mom … Daddy … let me begin by telling you about Betty.”
“Betty?” said Adrienne. “What about Betty?”
“She’s leaving for New Mexico right away to get married.”
“What?” gasped Adrienne.
“Are you serious?” Nolan asked.
“Very serious. Betty came by to tell me good-bye yesterday. You were shopping with Frances, Mom.”
“You didn’t tell me she’d been here when I came home.”
“No, because her new life in the West is part of why I wanted to look at the classified ads. I wanted to tell you about the whole thing at one time if I found what I was looking for.”
“And did you?” Nolan said.
“Yes.”
“Wait a minute,” Adrienne said. “Before we get into that, who is Betty marrying? I’ve never heard her talk about a fiancé. How did she come up with one in New Mexico?”
“What I’m about to tell you is exactly how she found the man she’s going to marry, even though she’s never been to New Mexico, and up until a few weeks ago didn’t know the name of one person out there.”
A light came on in Nolan’s eyes. “Now, hold on,” he said, looking at the newspaper in his daughter’s hand. “You’re not talking about Betty becoming a mail order bride, are you? Tell me that’s not what this is all about.”
“That’s exactly what it’s about, Daddy. Betty answered an ad in the Herald from a foreman on a cattle ranch near Santa Fe, New Mexico. He’s a born-again Christian, and he laid out some strict qualifications for the woman he would bring from the East in prospect of marrying. Betty told me she’s prayed about it and feels that the Lord is in it. Even then, both she and Clint—his name’s Clint Jackson—both of them have agreed that once she gets there, he’ll court her, but if either one does not feel they should go through with the marriage, it’s off. No strings attached.”
Adrienne turned pale. “Linda,” she said, choking on the word. “Y-you aren’t going to tell us that you’re considering answering an ad and becoming some man’s mail order bride….”
“I am, Mom. But let me explain some things, then I want to show you an ad.”
Linda’s parents listened intently as she told them how Betty had described the mail order bride system operated. Linda figured that if the Lord had led Betty in this way, He just might have a Christian man out west for her, too. And if God led her to go, it would get her away from Boston. She wouldn’t be a recluse anymore.
Nolan blinked in shock as he said, “Honey, your mother and I have been deeply concerned that you were going to become a permanent recluse. We’ve prayed about it a lot. We’ve asked the Lord to give you victory in it, but we never meant that we wanted you to leave here.”
“But Daddy, can’t you see that might be exactly what the Lord has in mind? He may know that the only way I can live a normal life is to relocate. Go where nobody knows me—where nobody knows what Lewis and Janet did to me. If I can live somewhere else, I can go on with my life and not have to carry the shame and embarrassment of June 9, 1877.”
Adrienne rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Are you about to tell us you found an ad you want to answer?”
“Yes, Mom. Let me show it to both of you.”
Linda placed the paper in her father’s hand. “It’s near the bottom of the page in the third column. I marked it with a pencil. See it?”
Nolan’s eyes trailed down the page. “Yes.” He leaned toward Adrienne and held it so both of them could read.
While they were doing so, Linda prayed silently, Lord, I only want Your will. Please, if You have a plan for Blake Barrett and me, help Mom and Daddy to know it and give me their blessing.
When they finished reading Barrett’s ad, Adrienne said, “Nolan, what do you think?”
“I have to say he sure sounds like a fine man. His Bible principles come through quite clear.”
“That’s what I thought,” Adrienne said. “I never dreamed our prayers for Linda would be answered from a direction like this. But maybe God has reserved Blake Barrett for her all along.”
Nolan pulled at his ear nervously. “But—”
“But what, Daddy?”
“I hate to think of you moving clear across this continent to live. You’d be so far away from us.”
“I know it wouldn’t be the same as if I was living here, but it’s only three to four days by rail to the California coast. We would still see each other periodically. And I wouldn’t be a recluse anymore.”
Nolan rubbed the back of his neck. “Your mother and I understand about your pain and embarrassment, honey. We just figured with the passing of time and plenty of prayer, one day you’d wake up and say you could go back to church and society.”
Adrienne’s lips thinned into a bleak line as she looked at her husband, then said, “I think, dear, that as much as we wanted things to work out according to our own plan, it just may be the Lord has His mighty hand in this. We certainly wouldn’t want to get in His way, and we both want what’s best for Linda, no matter how it affects us.”
Nolan’s head moved in a slow nod. “You’re right about that.”
“And if this Blake Barrett is what he claims to be and is looking for a dedicated Christian wife as he says, it no doubt would work out well for Linda.”
Nolan nodded again. “That is, of course, if she found Barrett to be everything he seems to be, and she fell in love with him.”
“Of course,” Adrienne said. “But if God is in it, all those things will happen. And if He’s not in it, He’ll show her and us, I’m sure, even before she goes. But it makes sense. Getting out of Boston might be the best thing for her.”
Linda praised the Lord in her heart for her parents’ positive attitude.
Nolan closed his eyes for a few moments, then looked first at his daughter, then his wife. “Tell you what, ladies. As I see it, if the Lord has chosen Linda and Blake for each other, He’s working out His plan to get them together. I know you would like to get out of here as fast as possible, Linda, but on the other hand, this is the rest of your life you’re talking about. You don’t want to hurry things and make a grave mistake. Right?”
Both women agreed.
“Okay, then, let’s pray about this Blake Barrett mail order bride situation for a week. In the meantime, we’ll have Pastor and Doris come to the house, and we’ll discuss it with them. If, after a week’s time, we feel the Lord is in this thing, Linda can send him a reply. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” said Adrienne.
Both parents looked at their daughter.
Linda’s hands were shaking.
“What is it, honey?” Nolan asked. “Have I said something to upset you?
“No, Daddy. It’s just that, well, if I wait too long to reply to the ad, Blake Barrett might choose someone else, and—”
“But Linda, look at it this way. If that happens, then Blake Barrett wasn’t in God’s plan for you, anyhow. If God has Barrett reserved for you and you reserved for Barrett, nothing’s going to happen to change it. I just think we need to give it a few days of prayer. You sure don’t want to marry the wrong man.”
Linda suddenly relaxed. “You’re right, Daddy. Let’s pray about it for a week and talk to Pastor and Doris. If everything seems right then, I’ll reply to the ad.”
“Good!” said Adrienne. “I think we’re going at it the right way.”
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Linda ran her gaze between them. “Mom, Daddy … it would be all right for me to go ahead and write the letter, wouldn’t it? I mean, so I can have time to word it properly. And … and then I’ll mail it when the week is up, if all seems right.”
“Sounds like good thinking to me,” said Nolan, and Adrienne nodded.
The next day, Linda sat down at her desk and prayerfully wrote her letter to Blake Barrett without dating it. She would do that just before she mailed it. She gave him her testimony of when she was saved and what brought it about. She also told him of her love for the Lord, and of her dedication to Him. Then she told him about herself.
Haman Warner smiled as he sat in the comfortable overstuffed chair in his apartment after eating supper. His plan that would ultimately send Blake Barrett to prison was almost perfected.
The bank had one of the most up-to-date vaults in California, which included a fairly new idea—safe-deposit boxes made of steel, wherein bank customers stored their valuables.
One of the bank’s wealthiest customers—Horace Dodge—periodically stored large amounts of cash in his safe-deposit box. Dodge owned the Sacramento Stockyards Company and did a great deal of his business with cash, both in paying and receiving.
Dodge fully trusted Warner. In fact, Dodge liked Warner so much that he would always come to him first when he wanted access to his safe-deposit box. Only if Warner was occupied with a customer would another bank employee accompany Dodge into the vault.
There were two locks on each deposit box. It took a bank employee with a key to unlock one, and the customer with a key to unlock the other.
Warner had noted that the cash Dodge brought in was always in a small canvas bag marked Sacramento Stockyards Company on both sides. For several days now, while staying at the bank alone past working hours on the pretense of doing some necessary work, Warner had entered the vault and devised a way to pick the lock that fitted Dodge’s key.
Pondering his plan as he sat in his easy chair, Warner said aloud, “All right, Haman, ol’ pal, all you have to do now is wait till Dodge comes in the next time to put that bag of money in his box. When he does, you’ll pick the lock and take the bag.
“It’s good that muddle-brained Blake Barrett has moved into his dead papas house. Since Bradley often had you over to do some drinking with him, you know the house well. All you have to do is plant the canvas bag in a place where Blake isn’t likely to stumble onto it, but a thorough search by Sheriff Claude Perkins and his deputies will turn it up.”
Some three weeks had passed since Blake Barrett had sent his ads to the eastern newspapers. He stopped by the post office on his way home from work on a rainy afternoon, and when the postal clerk handed him his mail, Blake quickly sorted through it so see if there might be a letter in response to one of the ads.
He was excited to find a letter from a Henrietta Malcolm in Washington, D.C., but decided to wait till he got home to read it.
Upon entering the large house through the back door, Blake removed his dripping hat and raincoat, hung them on wall pegs, and sat down at the kitchen table. He quickly opened the letter from Henrietta Malcolm and read it.
A frown crinkled his brow as his eyes ran line after line. Shaking his head in disappointment, he said, “No, Miss Malcolm. You and I aren’t for each other.” With that, he wadded up the letter and envelope and tossed them into the wastebasket by the cupboard.
During the next several days, more letters came in response to his ads. Some—like that of Henrietta Malcolm’s—he threw away upon reading. Some he kept to read more carefully.
A few days went by with no more letters coming. Blake was down to two that he had kept, and was seeking the Lords guidance as to which one he should answer first. Since he couldn’t get peace in one direction or the other, he decided to answer both of them and see what developed.
The next day he stopped at the post office on his way home, dropped the two letters in the box, then went to the counter to pick up his mail.
“Only one piece of mail today, Mr. Barrett,” said the postal clerk as he handed him an envelope.
“Thanks, Rob.”
Blake paused to look at the letter in his hand. The penmanship was beautiful. It was from a Miss Linda Forrest in Boston, Massachusetts. I wonder if the rest of her matches her handwriting, he thought.
When he climbed into his carriage, the sun was slanting low in the west. Why wait? Let’s see about Miss Linda Forrest.
Blake unfolded the letter and again was struck with the beauty of the handwriting. He was impressed with Linda Forrest’s sweet way with words and her clear-cut testimony of salvation.
Something clicked in his mind.
He read it again, this time more slowly. A warm feeling came over him as he felt this young woman’s love for the Lord, and he could tell she was fully dedicated to serving Him.
Blake had supper at the Borahs’ cafe, then went home. His loneliness was magnified by the big house around him. He went to the library, fired a lamp, and sat down in his big overstuffed chair to read Linda Forrest’s letter again.
And again.
“Lord,” he said, “this sounds like a very sweet Christian young lady. She’s a few years younger than I, but the age span isn’t all that much. I feel I should write back to her. I’ll give You time to put peace in my heart if I’m to do that.”
The next evening, Blake had perfect peace about writing back to Linda. In his letter, he told her he had passed up several inquiries and had recently written to two young ladies. Linda’s letter, however, impressed him most of all. He told her about his church and the avenues of service to the Lord it offered him. He told her a little more about his bank work, but still didn’t mention that he was the wealthy owner of the Pacific Bank and Trust Company. He asked that she write back if she was still interested and tell him more about herself.
In the larger eastern cities in 1877, the United States mail was delivered to businesses and residences five days a week.
On a cool day in late September, Linda Forrest was applying a feather duster to the furniture while her mother visited new neighbors who had moved in down the street.
She was in the parlor when she heard footsteps on the front porch. It was the time of day when the mail usually came, and she laid down the duster and tiptoed to the front window of the parlor. One peek through the lace curtains told her it was Mr. Gladstone, the postman.
The postman hummed a tune Linda didn’t recognize as he stuffed mail into the box then went his way down the street. She waited till she knew he would be several doors down, then opened the door, grabbed the mail, and hurried back inside.
She began sifting through the envelopes, and her heart almost stopped when she saw one addressed to her. The name in the corner was Blake Barrett, and the address was 420 Vine Street in Sacramento.
She laid the other mail on a chair in the hallway and dashed to her room with Barrett’s letter. Her pulse raced as she read his encouraging words. Hastily she took out paper and pen, prayed for help in making her reply, and dipped the pen in the inkwell.
Since Blake Barrett wanted to know more about her, she told of being a Sunday school teacher and of singing in the choir. She didn’t feel she was being untruthful, for that’s what she had been actively doing up until June 9, and would still be doing if Lewis had not jilted her. She also told him interesting things from her childhood and gave him information about her wonderful parents.
When Adrienne returned from her visit, Linda took Blake Barrett’s letter to her and asked her to read it. Adrienne was impressed by the tone of the letter. When Nolan came home, he read it and remarked that Barrett seemed to be a levelheaded young man and a gentleman.
Linda let her parents read her reply, and though it was very possibly going to take her away from them, they felt she had done well in composing the letter and told her they were sure Mr. Barrett would like what he read.
That evening the Stanfords came by to check on Linda and were gla
d to see her looking happy as they stepped through the door.
The Forrests had asked them to come and talk to Linda shortly after she had read the ad by Blake Barrett in the Boston Herald. Both Stanfords had agreed at the time that Barrett sounded like a solid, well-grounded Christian.
When the Stanfords saw Linda’s eyes, the pastor said, “What’s happened, Linda? I can tell you’re elated about something.”
“I got a letter from Blake Barrett in Sacramento!”
“Oh? How does it sound?”
“Very promising,” Nolan answered for her. “Linda, would you care if Pastor and Doris read Blake’s letter?”
“Of course not. We’re relying very much on their advice. I’ll go get it.”
When Linda returned with Blake’s letter, she found the Stanfords seated in the parlor with her parents. She placed the envelope in the pastor’s hand and said, “I want to know what you think. Both of you.”
The Stanfords read the letter at the same time. When they had finished the pastor said, “There’s no question that this young man knows the Lord and is sincere in seeking God’s will for his life.”
“I agree,” Doris said.
Pastor Stanford turned to the Linda and said, “You will recall that when we came at your parents’ request and talked to you about this mail order bride idea and read Blake Barrett’s ad, I told you then that I felt it would be all right for you to pursue it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Doris and I have talked about this a lot. And we’ve prayed much about it. We’ve been very concerned about your reclusion as time has passed.”
“Yes, Pastor.”
“We understand your deep embarrassment, and though we’d like to see you overcome it and go on with your life right here in Boston, we also realize that the Lord may want to take you elsewhere so you can get on with your life. I like what I know about Blake Barrett. It appears that he wants a godly wife and is diligently seeking the Lord’s help in finding her.”
“One impressive thing in this letter,” Doris said, “is that this young man isn’t trying to hurry anything. He says that he wants to provide you an apartment in someone’s home, or a room at a boardinghouse, to give both of you time to get acquainted. He states that if for any reason you want to call the whole thing off, he’ll understand and pay your way back to Boston. The young man has his head on straight. God may just be in this.”
