A Real Man for Ruth: a mail order bride romance

by Susan Thomas

  That rubbing was so utterly delicious. It made me squirm and moan with pleasure especially when his fingers strayed down between my legs. Then he began spanking again just the same as before; light smacks that created a warm, pleasant sting. The stinging built up somewhat and again he stopped and again began the rubbing. By now I was squirming in such a lewd fashion I was ashamed.

  "Amos, no... don't." It was more gasp than speech.

  I heard him laugh and he said, "Shall I do this instead?"

  His finger slipped right down into my most private place and .... Ooh. I could hear myself mewling as I writhed like a wanton at what he did with his finger and suddenly... so suddenly I wasn't in the least prepared... I was crying out with that exquisite pleasure I had only experienced before when Amos was inside me.

  When my spasm was finally over, Amos pulled me up and sat me on his lap. Now I could feel his manhood was rock hard and ready for action but he made no attempt to mount me. He kissed me and said, "Ruth, you are the most amazing wife a man could hope to have. You're beautiful, brave, resourceful, clever, organised, wonderful, charming, hard-working..."

  "Stop!" I cried. "I'm not really any of that. Well, maybe well organised, but I made a huge mistake today when we encircled McBride. As for everything else it was just all of us together, and Martha was a huge help."

  "Arguing with your husband is a hairbrush offence. Do you want me to spank you with your own hairbrush?"

  "No."

  "Then accept all my compliments."

  I laughed and asked him if all my spankings would be so pleasant. "No, most definitely not. So... what would you like right now."

  I had to whisper it but Amos heard it right enough. "I want you to mount me and then come into me."

  He did exactly what I wanted.

  ---oOo---

  Of course McBride's possessions were searched, as were those of Joe and Chas, and amongst everything, to my surprise were the two copies of the report Mr Habicht had promised. They were conclusive that no coal would be found beneath our valley. I couldn't work out why McBride had kept them; it certainly wasn't in his interests to do so. He had only been employed to secure the land or at least enough of it to suit the coal company's purpose. Amos immediately sent one off to the main coal company with a letter to tell them what McBride had been up to. He did get a reply; it denied all knowledge of McBride and claimed, in the blandest tones, that the company had no interest in extending its mining operations into our valley.

  The three murderers were sent off to the state prison in Cañon City to await trial. I had no doubt they would suffer the death penalty, but on the way to prison they escaped. The guards were overpowered and tied up and the murderers disappeared. We all thought that was the last we'd see of them, but that turned out to be sadly mistaken.

  I began to feel that life might be settling down now: Elizabeth was married and safely off our hands and Annie seemed to be getting on very well with Caleb. Amos thought a lot of the young man and when Peter, his foreman, gave up he would promote him. My garden was doing well and, best of all, McBride and his men were safely out of the picture (or so I thought). However, a new problem was bothering me. I was sick in the mornings. It was only morning, and didn't last very long, but it was every morning. I also felt strangely emotional; one moment tetchy and the next minute weepy. That is just not like me at all and I couldn't understand what on earth was wrong. Then I noticed that my breasts were very tender and I began to worry. I didn't want to be a frail or delicate wife for Amos. Finally, I had to tell someone and of course I chose Martha. She is the sort of person one confides in and I had come to love her very much.

  I set Annie off on doing a task that would keep her occupied for a long time and then took Martha off for a private chat. I explained all about my sickness, emotional feelings and my breasts and asked her if she had any idea what might be wrong with me and if I should see a doctor. I was shocked and upset when she first looked incredulous and then began laughing.

  "Martha, it is no laughing matter. I am really worried."

  She didn't really stop laughing but she grabbed hold of me and hugged me. "Oh Ruth, I am sorry to laugh but I can't believe you really don't know what is happening."

  I felt suddenly irritable and actually stamped my foot. "Well I don't. Please tell me."

  "Ruth, you are with child. You have a baby growing inside you."

  I have to admit I just stood stock still for a while, my mind whirling with what she had said. Of course I was with child! How could I have failed to realise. I found myself asking in a faint voice, "Are you sure?"

  She laughed all over again. "Of course I am. Come on Ruth, you are a married woman. What did you think would happen when your husband took you to his bed? The doctor will confirm it but you must have missed your monthly."

  I had, of course, but not given it any thought because of all that was happening. I felt very silly and said so.

  "No Ruth, you are just young and inexperienced. You have no mother, no sisters, and you have had to adjust to so very much that is new. You've done very well indeed. Few women could have done as well. Your inexperience in such matters is just that... inexperience. You'll know next time."

  I looked at her amazed. "Next time," I began, and then broke off. Of course there would be a next time. Both of us wanted a big family. I suddenly wanted my mother desperately, and burst into tears. Martha instantly engulfed me in her comforting arms and held me until I stopped crying. She made me a cup of tea and we discussed all that I must do now.

  "You'll tell Mr Masters tonight?"

  Now, at that point, I made a fateful decision. "No," I said carefully, "he will worry and treat me like an invalid. Now I know what is happening I'll wait until it cannot be concealed any longer. I can begin preparing in secret. Don't tell anyone yourself until I've told my Amos. I'd hate him to learn of it by accident."

  I had a book that had been amongst those sent by Mrs Bancroft with my sewing machine. It was Practical Home Doctor for Women and Children by David Wark MD and published in 1882. It had a section on maternity and I decided to study it secretly until I knew enough to reassure Amos.

  The next day I was to go on my rounds to the respectable poor and needy, so I spent the rest of the day baking loaves and had a huge pot of nourishing stew simmering on the hob. Those families that wanted the stew had to give me a lidded can or pot to put it in. I had them all on a shelf with their names written on neat cards. Now, I knew exactly how many loaves I had made, but the next morning, when I went to load up, three were missing. Although I had plenty of stew for those that had given me a container I could tell that some had gone. I had expected to have some left over for us but there wouldn't be enough. I was mystified and angry. Someone was stealing and I was determined to find out who it was.

  On my next charitable baking day, I made only bread, with steak and vegetable pies, counted them carefully and wrote the number down. I then put them in a different place... one that I had could more easily keep an eye on. Of course, I couldn't watch the whole time, and I didn't, but enough to have an idea who might be taking the food intended for the poor. Later in the day, I saw Amos walk by and gave no thought, but when I checked on my food I found, once again, three loaves, and now three pies as well, were missing.

  Amos! I couldn't believe Amos would take my loaves and pies. Why would he need to? I went looking for him and was in time to see him riding slowly off on his horse with a sack hanging from his saddle. I doubt I have ever moved so fast before. I rushed into the house and changed into riding breeches and jacket. A woman can't really ride astride in a dress or skirt and, although many men disapproved, there are breeches for women made to look, when not on a horse, as if they might be a dress. I was in a lather of frustration at how slowly I seemed to change. I then rushed down to the stables and saddled my mare, Angel, exclaiming with impatience at every delay. I had to know where Amos was going although I had a nasty suspicion I already knew.

  I don
't think poor Angel could believe she was actually galloping at some points for I rarely rode her. She kept making indignant sounds but I wanted to catch up with Amos. Of course, that assumed I was right about where he was going, which was to that Miss Larsen's small farm. I was right. I spotted Amos only a few minute's ride from Miss Larsen's and sure enough he turned up the track that led to there. I pulled Angel up and watched from some distance away. He went right up to the house, dismounted, removed the sack from the saddle, and began walking to the door. Before he could knock it was opened; she came out with a small child in her arms and with another little boy who ran up to Amos.

  The little boy wanted to carry the sack, but I think it must have been too heavy for his small strength, so Amos shared the carrying with him. Miss Larsen peeked in the sack, gave Amos a kiss on his cheek, and they all went in. I was enraged. I wanted to scream and shout. I wanted to smash things up. I wanted to hit Amos and kill that wretched woman. How dare he! How could he! He had me so why did he want her as well? Good heavens the woman was a faded bloom... well past her best. I didn't think she looked slatternly, she might even have once been attractive, but she was now past that stage. It suddenly dawned on me that perhaps the little boy was his child. With horror I thought that maybe they were all his children. Mrs Thornton may not have realised that of course or else she would have hinted at it.

  Another thought came to mind; I had been baking to feed his mistress... I felt angry all over again. Wasn't it bad enough he had another woman but that I must cook for her. My father, for all his faults, had never so much as looked at another woman. Hadn't I been a good wife to Amos? Why did he need her? I turned Angel around and rode slowly back towards home. I tried hard to calm my boiling thoughts. I started with the little boy: no, he could not be Amos' child, because there was no way that the townsfolk would not have found that out. In fact, now I thought hard, it was unlikely any of the children were his. Amos desired children most strongly, and if any, or all, of Miss Larsen's had been his then he would have found a way to acknowledge it. He might well have married her. No, she was just an immoral woman that he liked to go and see for... My mind did not want to pursue that thought any further and I rode home in the very depths of depression.

  Chapter 10

  When I got home I had much to do but it was all done in a daydream. My thoughts revolved around the fact that my husband is having an affair. I had been married such a short time and yet already he had another woman. Perhaps, I thought, he had always had her. Maybe that was where he got all that experience. As the day wore on I decided I could not face doing my wifely duty that night. I invented a headache and went to bed early. Fortunately, because Martha knew of my condition she was supportive and Amos had no suspicion and was all sympathy.

  The next day I went out on my round with the pies and loaves I had made. My usual pleasure at meeting my neighbours, and now friends, was absent. I did the whole round in misery. Amos was out when I got back. He worked hard and was often out from early to late so I gave no thought to him being around for some hours. I went to his gun collection which included a rifle I had never seen before. It was a single shot, loaded through a dropping breech block system. I found it hard to believe such a rifle could ever have been very popular. It had a strange sort of half octagonal barrel. I wasn't sure who had made it and was looking for a maker's mark when Amos came in.

  "Ruth!" He practically shouted it, making me jump. "What have I told you about guns, Ruth?"

  I was on the edge of tears. How dare he tell me what to do when he was having an affair? I was surly in response, not my usual obedient style. "I don't know. What were your orders?"

  "That does it, wife. Not only grossly disobedient but very disrespectful as well. I have told you guns are dangerous and you are not to touch them. I am going to give you such a switching you'll never forget. Go and stand in the corner. Quickly now."

  I went to the corner mainly because I wanted time to think. I was not taking a switching from a husband having an affair with Miss Larsen... the woman was little better than a whore and no longer very attractive. How dare he sully our marriage bed like that! I was standing in the corner planning just what to say to him when Amos came dashing back in again.

  "You can leave the corner. Your switching will have to wait until later. There has been an accident to one of the men and I must go, but you needn't imagine I am going to forget. You'll not sit down for a week by the time I have finished with you."

  I glared in return but it was mainly to his back for he was already running to see the injured man. When he had gone I began to think. I would not take a switching. I knew it would be horribly painful from what Elizabeth had said; the hairbrush was bad enough so I didn't want to endure that. Besides which it was so unjust even if Miss Larsen wasn't in the picture. No, I wasn't taking a switching and I wasn't staying in this marriage. I had some money, which Amos had said I could keep, whatever the law. Maybe I could set up as a gunsmith... Colorado was more open minded a place than Britain. Or possibly I could work as a dressmaker. I could do something. I'd claim to be a widow and bring my child up on my own. I would stay not a moment longer in this house.

  I went out and hitched Angel to the buggy and loaded up my Jones sewing machine, a bag of clothes and some personal effects. Martha saw me but I think she assumed it was more charitable work. I came back and wrote Amos a letter. I told him I wasn't staying a moment longer, that I was going and would never return. I felt a martyr: I was being driven from my home by his unreasonable behaviour and his infidelity. I decided not to mention Miss Larsen. Let his guilty conscience worry about whether I knew or not. I also said nothing about the switching or the reason for it. I kept it brief so he'd have lots to worry about it. I felt he deserved to worry.

  Without a word to Martha I set off in the buggy towards town. I was alternately weeping and fuming with rage but determined to carry out my plan. There was a train I could catch and I would just take it to the furthest place possible and sort everything out from there. I arrived at the edge of town. I planned to leave the buggy and horse at the livery stables, get my belongings on the train, and be in good time to be away before Amos found out. I felt sick at leaving him but I couldn't accept a switching from a man having an affair. It was bad enough I was banned from handling the weapons but that Amos would leave our marriage bed to... and with that woman. Why, she had several children, and, although once attractive, was well past her prime. Besides which she was unmarried and yet had five children. I told myself I was not being unkind or uncharitable. I was convinced he was treating me unfairly and having an affair with an immoral woman. I had to get away before the baby made itself obvious. Please don't think I did any of this without feeling terrible. I did not. I felt sick and guilty but also outraged. Not once did it cross my idiot mind that being with child was having the effect of making me overwrought.

  I had just hitched Angel to a rail when who should be standing right by me but Miss Larsen. I was about to walk right past her, without any acknowledgement, when she stopped me.

  "Oh, Mrs Masters, I am so glad to run into you. We are never in town at the same time and I owe you so much."

  I cannot recall ever being so astonished before. I gasped and stared at her before stammering out, "Whatever do you mean, Miss Larsen?"

  "All those loaves, pies, stews and soups. There have been times when without them my children would have gone hungry days on end. I know the town disapprove of me. My Jacob was of a very radical turn of mind: he disapproved of religion, the institution of marriage and all sorts of government, but he was a good man to me and a good father. When he died of a fever I didn't know what to do. I know the townsfolk think I am little better than a whore, being unmarried and with children; but without your husband's support, and all that food you've provided, I would have had to turn to that. The men would have come, for all their public disapproval."

  For a moment, I saw myself as God must see me and it was not a pretty sight. I had been a
judgemental prude about this lady. Her only fault had been to love a man who had strong, radical views. He hadn't wanted to die of a fever, leaving her behind with a farm she couldn't manage, and her children to feed. I had allowed myself to fall in with the town view of her and not seen that she was a good woman struggling with a situation beyond her. I had compared myself with her, and been so full of pride, all I could see was how tired she looked. I had misjudged my husband and was leaving him because he had been no more than a good man and neighbour. He, who had such strong religious beliefs, had nevertheless looked at her with compassion, not seeing immorality... but need.

  I threw my arms around her and hugged her. "Oh, Miss Larsen, whatever you have had you are more than welcome to. I am so sorry I haven't been to see you. I have been so neglectful."

  "Don't be silly. You're a new young wife, in a country new to you, and there's been all that trouble with the coal people. My, your husband sings your praises constantly. Then there's been Elizabeth. She looked lovely in that dress you made her."

  She was so generous in her praise and understanding for me and it made me all the more ashamed of myself. I vowed to do better by her and be a better person all round. Miss Larsen was just a poor woman, I suppose much like a widow, that Amos was helping but I had worked myself up to believing he was having an affair out of pure imagination. Why hadn't I trusted him? Why hadn't I seen that his character was incapable of such behaviour? Why hadn't I simply asked him in a respectful manner and he would have told me? Of course he could have told me himself but I guessed his reason would be Matthew 6 verse 3, "But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth." The silly man did take his Bible so seriously.