Measure of Grace

by Al Lacy

  I wish some other guy would, thought Jordan. Belinda was still pushing herself on him, and the pressure was still on by his parents and hers for nuptials. Both Mark and Lorene still put in their little digs about it, too. Irritated by it all, Jordan wanted to just spout off to the whole bunch, telling them to mind their own business, but he especially didn’t want to upset his parents. He wanted the new ranch his father had promised him, as well as the log house that was to be built on it.

  Eager to get inside the post office, Jordan said, “Well, Mark, if I don’t run into you in the next few days, I’ll see you at the party.”

  “Okay,” said Mark. “I’ll tell Lorene you won’t be bringing Belinda.”

  Heading for the post office door, Jordan looked over his shoulder. “You do that.”

  Inside the post office, there were two long lines at the counter. Jordan got in the shortest one and prepared himself for the wait. A few people were gathered around the potbellied stove that stood in the middle of the floor not far from where the lines were formed.

  A fidgety Jordan Shaw shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wishing the clerks would work faster. Since Knight Colburn had placed the mail order bride ads for him in the eastern newspapers, Jordan had made sure he was the one from the Bar-S to pick up the mail when it arrived three times a week by stagecoach.

  It had been nearly two weeks since Knight had wired the ads eastward, and so far, there had been no replies. Jordan was hoping it would be different today.

  The lines moved slowly, but finally, Jordan stepped up to the counter and forced a smile. “Howdy, Clete. Need the mail.”

  “Sure enough, Jordan,” said the elderly clerk. “I’ll get it for you.”

  While Clete was behind the wall, Jordan looked around and noted that there were few people left in the building. Only a handful stood in both lines, and two elderly men who had been sitting by themselves in chairs near the potbellied stove were preparing to leave.

  Clete returned with a small stack of mail. “Here you go, Jordan.”

  “Thanks,” said Jordan, taking the stack. When he turned around, the two elderly men had vacated the building, and no one else was near the stove. Sitting down on one of the chairs, Jordan quickly sifted through the mail. He barely got started when he found an envelope from a Betty Sandell of Dayton, Ohio, addressed to him.

  His heart began to pound. He started to open it, then decided to check the rest of the mail first. He set the letter aside and continued sifting. His heart seemed to skip a beat when he found a second letter addressed to him. This one was from a Marianne Wilson of Jersey City, New Jersey.

  Laying that one aside also, he flipped through what was left, and was pleasantly surprised to find a third letter addressed to him on the very bottom of the stack. It was from a Diana Morrow of Richmond, Virginia.

  Nervously, Jordan used his pocketknife to open the first envelope, and took out the letter from Betty Sandell. When he finished reading it, he moved his head back and forth slowly, and put the letter back in the envelope. Next he read the letter from Marianne Wilson. Like Betty Sandell’s, it too was disappointing. Both young women showed themselves to be quite shallow, and only interested in the fact that he had money.

  Stuffing Marianne’s letter back in the envelope, he picked up the letter from Diana Morrow. “Well, here goes,” he said, slitting the envelope and taking out the letter. He scanned it quickly, fully prepared for another disappointment.

  But it wasn’t like the others.

  He smiled as he perused it slowly, and his smile broadened as he carefully read each word. Yes! he thought as he folded Diana’s letter and slipped it back into the envelope. In a whisper, he said, “You could very well be the one, Diana. I can tell that you are a sweet young lady with a tender heart. You never once mentioned my wealth, and you have a good sense of humor. I like you very much already.”

  Placing Diana Morrow’s letter in the pocket of his mackinaw, he gathered up the rest of the mail and moved outside. Quickly, he stuffed the mail in a saddlebag, mounted, and trotted down the street to the Elkton Sentinel.

  Erline Tyler was at her desk when Jordan stepped in. “Hello, Jordan. I assume you want to see the boss.”

  Jordan grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Is he busy?”

  “Not that busy. He’s alone in his office. As always, he’ll be glad to see you.”

  “Thanks,” said Jordan, pulling the envelope out of his mackinaw pocket as he headed for the office door. Tapping on it, he called out, “Is the big newspaper magnate in there?”

  He heard Knight laugh and say, “No, but come in anyhow.”

  Jordan stepped in, closed the door behind him, and rushed up to Knight’s desk, waving the envelope. “Look what I got!”

  “Your first response to the ads?”

  “Well, actually there were three letters in today’s mail, but I’ve already ruled two of the women out. They seemed more interested in my wealth than myself. Ah, but this one! I want you to read it, Knight. She’s just what I’ve been dreaming about! Not one time does this girl mention my money. She’s really something. I think I’ve found her.”

  “Hold on there, my friend,” admonished Knight, knowing how impetuous Jordan could be. “Not too fast, now.”

  Extending the envelope to him, Jordan said, “Here. Read it for yourself. You’ll see what I mean.”

  Knight grinned at him, took the letter from the envelope, leaned back in his desk chair, and began reading. The further he read, the more he was impressed with Diana Morrow.

  When he finished reading the letter, he smiled and said, “I like this girl, Jordan. You’re right. I think you may just have found her. So what next?”

  “I want you to word a return letter to her for me.”

  “Be glad to.”

  “Good! I want to tell Diana that she sounds like just the girl for me. And I want you to use the most captivating words you can think of. I want to say in the letter that if after receiving it, Diana wants to come as my prospective bride, I want her to let me know as soon as possible and I’ll send her the money for her travel expenses.”

  “All right,” said Knight, taking paper from a desk drawer. “Let’s see if I can get it down in a way that pleases you. Have a seat.”

  Jordan sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk and watched as his friend took pen in hand, dipped it in the inkwell, and began to write.

  When Knight was finished, he blotted the ink and handed it to Jordan. “See what you think.”

  The look that came into Jordan’s eyes as he read the letter told Knight that he was pleased.

  Smiling broadly, Jordan looked at Knight and said, “Ol’ pal, it’s perfect! Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope it works out for you. New subject.”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “Are we still going hunting together tomorrow?”

  “I’m sure planning on it.”

  “Good. I was hoping nothing would come up on the ranch that would keep you from going.”

  Jordan laughed. “It would take something really drastic to keep yours truly from going hunting! Should be good hunting, with all the snow that’s fallen in the mountains the past few days.”

  “Yes,” said Knight, glancing out the window. “Looks like it’s starting to snow out there right now.”

  Looking at the fat flakes coming down from a heavy sky, Jordan said, “Sure enough. That north wind has sent us some snow right here in town.” He rose from the chair. “Oh. I need you to address an envelope for me.”

  “Sure.”

  When the envelope was addressed to Diana Morrow, Knight handed it to Jordan, was thanked again, and Jordan hurried out to post the letter. The stagecoach that had come in from Ketcham that afternoon would carry his letter to the railroad the following morning.

  The next morning, it was still snowing lightly as Knight and Jordan rode into the Sawtooth Mountains. The wind had dwindled to a slight breeze, for which they were thankful.
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  When they reached the high country, they left the horses and pack mule tied to trees and began plodding through the eight-inch depth of snow in the forest on foot, rifles in hand.

  Keeping his voice just above a whisper, Knight said, “I’m really glad for you. The more I’ve thought about Diana Morrow’s letter, the more convinced I’ve become that she’s the right girl for you.” His warm breath was forming small clouds on the cold air as he spoke.

  The excitement Jordan was feeling showed in his shining eyes as he said with his own breath clouds riding the icy air, “I can’t wait to hear back from her. I hope she’ll still be interested after she reads my letter.”

  “I have no doubt that she will. Sounds like she’s just what you need in a wife.”

  They came to a small, gurgling stream, which was ice-edged, and after they hopped to the other side, Jordan said, “Speaking of what I need in a wife, what are you doing about finding yourself a wife? You’re twenty-four too, you know, and should be getting married.”

  As they pushed aside snow-laden pine branches so they could keep moving, Knight said, “The Lord will send the right girl along when it is His time for it to happen. As a child of God, I can rest in His plan for my life. And I can also rest in His care when I die and leave this world, Jordan. I know when I take my last breath on earth, I’ll find myself looking into the face of my Saviour in heaven. But you—”

  “I think you should try the mail order bride system, Knight,” said Jordan, purposely cutting off the direction of the conversation toward repentance and salvation. “Looks like it’s going to work for me. You might very well find this right girl that way.”

  Knight was about to comment when they both saw a big buck deer some forty yards ahead of them in an open area. Both raised their rifles quickly, took aim, and fired. The echoes of the shots went rattling away among the peaks and were fading into the distance when the deer’s knees buckled, and he fell flat in the snow.

  “Come on!” Jordan said gleefully. “We’ll both have venison on our tables tonight.”

  As they were plodding through the snow toward the dead deer, suddenly a big black male bear lumbered out from between two towering, thick-trunked conifers. He rose on his hind legs and stretched his full length, pawing the air. Looking directly at Jordan, he ejected a wild roar and shook his head angrily.

  “It’s him!” cried Jordan, raising his rifle. Just as he squeezed the trigger, he slipped in the snow. The rifle spit fire, and the slug chewed into the tree closest to the bear, splattering bark in every direction. The bear roared again, pivoted, scurried into the dense forest, and disappeared.

  Jordan started to run after him, but slipped again, and fell on his face in the snow. Knight grasped an arm, and as he was helping him up, he said, “I think it’s the same bear you shot. It looked like part of his right paw was missing.”

  “I hope so,” said Jordan, brushing snow from his rifle. “I’ve just got to track that big boy down, kill him, and get him stuffed.”

  Knight followed as his friend hurried toward the spot where the bear had appeared. They arrived at the same time, and Jordan pointed at the bear’s tracks in the snow, saying, “Look, Knight! It’s him, all right. Two claws are missing from the right paw.”

  “Sure enough,” said Knight. “He’s the one you shot, all right.”

  Jordan looked in the direction the bear had run and sighed. “He’s probably a long way from here by now. You know how fast they are.”

  Knight nodded. “Plenty fast.”

  Staring at the spot where he had last seen the bear, Jordan said, “I’ve got to come back up here as soon as I can. I’ve got to find him, Knight. I want him! I want him!”

  Knight lifted his hat, ran fingers through his thick, wavy hair, and said, “It might be the other way around, ol’ pal. Maybe it’s him wanting you. He was looking straight at you when he stood up and roared. It was like he remembered you. He may think of you every time he looks at his disfigured paw.”

  “You’re serious. You really think he remembers me?”

  “Yeah. You’d better be careful when you’re tracking him. Let’s get this buck dressed out.”

  On Tuesday, November 5, Diana Morrow was putting a stew together for supper with her mother sitting at the kitchen table, looking on. Dennis was playing in the boys’ room.

  While working on the stew, Diana said, “Maybe this will be the day, Mama. There’s been enough time now since I mailed the letter. Maybe when Derick, Deborah, and Daniel get home from school and bring the mail, there’ll be a letter from Jordan.”

  “I hope so, honey,” said Martha. “Your father will be getting out of jail in nine days.”

  Cold terror, like an icy hand, squeezed Diana’s spine. Her voice quivered as she said, “I … I’ve got to be gone before then.”

  “You will be, honey. I’ve prayed so hard. You will be.”

  Diana stirred the ingredients of her stew, and trying to keep her mind off her impending danger, said, “It was really a time for mixed emotions when we told Derick, Deborah, and Daniel about my replying to the mail order bride ad, wasn’t it, Mama?”

  “Mixed emotions for sure,” said Martha. “Your siblings fear for your safety if you’re still here when their father is released from jail, yet they can hardly stand the thought of their big sister living so far away.”

  At that moment, they both heard the pounding hooves of the team and the rattle of the wagon as it passed by the kitchen window on its way to the barn. Diana glanced through the window, and her heart quickened pace as she said, “Oh, Mama, they’ve just got to have the letter!”

  “We’ll see, honey. Maybe this is the day.”

  Moments later, footsteps were heard on the back porch, and when the door came open, Deborah entered, smiling. “It came, Diana!”

  Diana drew a sharp breath. “Really? Jordan’s letter came?”

  “Sure did. Derick has it.”

  Even as Deborah was speaking, the boys came in with Derick waving the envelope. “Here it is, sis!” he said gleefully. “The letter from your future husband.”

  Diana dried her hands on her apron, snatched the envelope from his fingers, and turned toward her mother. “I … I’ve got to read it in private, Mama. I’ll go to my room. Be back in a few minutes.”

  “All right, honey,” said Martha. “I understand.”

  “Hurry,” said Deborah. “We want to know if Jordan wants to marry you.”

  “Yeah,” said Daniel. “Hurry back.”

  Diana gave them a weak smile and dashed out of the kitchen. When she entered the bedroom that she and her sister shared, she closed the door, and with trembling fingers tore the envelope open and took out the letter. Taking a deep breath, she unfolded it and began reading.

  Dear Miss Diana Morrow,

  I confess that when I placed my ad for a mail order bride, I suffered from serious doubts. I began to wonder what sort of woman might answer that type of ad, and I began to imagine the very worst. I also began to worry over what kind of life could be built with someone who is a stranger. I lost some sleep over these doubts, believe me.

  Miss Morrow, I must tell you. Your letter dispelled every doubt. Your way with words is entrancing, and the manner in which you described yourself left me longing to truly know you. Your letter was by far the most personable, and as I finished reading it, I sensed that I had caught a glimpse into your very heart. I hope this letter may spark similar feelings in you.

  I am a partner in my father’s ranch and I love it. Ranch life is the only life I can imagine truly offering happy living. There is a freedom that can’t be described. It can only be experienced in the everyday workings of a ranch. You can never anticipate what tomorrow will hold. Even the ordinary can one day catch you totally off guard with its simple, yet majestic, beauty. From the birth of a new colt to a fast ride on a bronco, ranch life can exhilarate you like nothing else, with the wonder of just living.

  It is at such moments that I wish for
someone to share my wonder and happiness. I am an ordinary, simple man. I like to fish, hunt, and ride. I love order, a good story, starry nights, and laughter, more than anything, if you can compare those things. I esteem women highly. I do not drink, and after several years of learning the hard way, I have learned to keep my temper in check. I will be the first to tell you that I am not perfect, but if you would consider me, I would try to always make you happy. You would have a nice home, plenty of food and clothing, as many animals as you could wish for, books upon books, and hopefully many children.

  I believe you are someone with whom I could build a good life. Please write back soon and tell me if you think you might be able to ever feel the same. If, however, you do not think we are suitable for each other, please be honest and say so. I await anxiously for your answer.

  Yours with all sincerity,

  Jordan Shaw

  P.S. If after reading this letter, your decision is to come as my prospective bride, please let me know as soon as possible, and I will send the money for your travel expenses. Included will be directions on the best way to reach Elkton.

  With her heart thundering in her chest, Diana reread the letter. Elated, she took a deep breath and left the room, hurrying down the hall.

  Martha and her other children—minus Dennis, who was still playing in his room—were waiting with bated breath as they heard Diana coming toward the kitchen. They knew by the look on her face that she had good news.

  “Well, come on,” said Martha. “What did he say?”

  Placing the letter in her mother’s hands, Diana said, “I’m having trouble breathing. You read it to them, Mama.”

  Diana’s siblings listened intently as their mother read Jordan Shaw’s letter to them. When she finished, it was evident that everyone, including Martha, was touched by the letter.

  First to speak was Deborah. “Wow, Diana! I hope someday I can find a man who writes letters like that.”

  “He sounds like the right one for you, sis,” said Derick.

  “Sure does,” agreed Daniel.

  Martha swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat, and said, “Honey, he sounds like a fine young man. You need to write the answer in a hurry. I’m afraid we’re going to have to hide you somewhere nearby until you hear back from Jordan and have the travel expense money in your hands.”