The Cheyenne Mail Order Bride Romanced by the Ranch

by Iris Kelly

  *****

  Giles came into the ranch house to the mouth-watering smell of chili. It was heated up from yesterday, but that was just fine by him. His daughter, Fanny, was turning into an excellent cook. He ought to make a point of letting her know how much he appreciated her fine efforts, especially since she had seemed a little low these past few weeks. Well, perhaps not low, but anxious. And restless.

  It was just as well that she was going out to spend the evening with her friend, Nora. He greatly enjoyed the companionable twosome of their own quiet evenings together, but she was a twenty-one-year-old woman, and now that all her sisters and brothers were gone, it was natural she should want a little company her own age.

  Fanny burst into the room, energetic and dressed very prettily.

  “I thought I heard you come in, Pa. I warmed up some dinner for you. But you remember, I’m going over to Nora’s, right?”

  “Sure do. I see you’re looking forward to your evening.”

  He was relieved to see Fanny in such good spirits. Perhaps she was going to be happy after all, with only her pa for company and enough outings to provide a little stimulation.

  “I’ll be back by eleven, Pa.”

  “Maybe I’ll start to work on those new shelves in your room. Since you’re going to be out.”

  “No! Umm, I wish you’d wait on those, Pa, ’cause you know, I been thinkin’ about switchin’ rooms.”

  “What?”

  “Well, why not? No one’s usin’ any of the other rooms, so I should be able to have my pick.”

  Giles shook his head in confusion. Fanny shrugged. No, she didn’t need to change rooms. It was just the quickest excuse she could think of. She couldn’t have her pa sink all that time and work into new shelves when she hoped that soon she would not be living there at all. Not after she got married. But her father didn’t know anything about her engagement, and it was too soon for him to find out.

  In the meantime, she needed to see her sweetheart tonight, and she needed to share some fantastic news with him. Fanny had not been able to fully accept his proposal of marriage, because the thought of leaving her father all alone in this huge ranch house was more than she could bear. He’d have no one to talk to, or laugh with, or comfort him when he was missing her ma, just hellish solitude for the rest of his life.

  She could never do that to him. If only he was able to get married himself, then that would be different. That would be wonderful. His entire clan of children would be relieved and happy if he were able to find romance and happiness with a new wife; no one would feel as if he had turned his back on their mother’s memory.

  But he would never take steps to find a wife, not of his own accord. Which is why Fanny had been obliged to find a wife for him. She had enlisted the help of her friend, Mrs. Virginia Carlyle, who immediately thought of her dear aunt, Lydia Maxwell. But her aunt would never agree to meet a man who had shown no active interest in getting married.

  Fanny and Virginia then contrived to write an ad in the mail order bride magazine that Mrs. Maxwell was in the habit of reading. And the two of them were able to write the ad in such a way that Lydia would find the situation tailor-made for her needs. Particularly, the issue of no more children. That and the fact that it was in the same city as her niece gave them high hopes for a response.

  It had arrived. There was no mistaking Mrs. Maxwell’s eagerness to make a good impression on Mr. Cooper. That fact and her niece’s endorsement of Lydia’s sweet character was all that Fanny needed to know. A few more letters would have to be composed, as was the custom in these mail order situations. An exchange of personal history, habits, and preferences, and sweet hints of affection to come.

  Fanny felt a twinge of guilt at the deception, but surely she would be excused of wrongdoing. Didn’t her father need and deserve loving companionship? And wasn’t Mrs. Maxwell being united to one of the finest men west of the Mississippi? She was doing them both an enormous favor, and it should not take them long to see that for themselves.

  She and her fiancé and Mrs. Carlyle needed to discuss financials; namely, buying a train ticket for Mrs. Maxwell to get to Cheyenne. But what she hadn’t decided was exactly when to let her father know that he was to be married. That’s not usually something a man has to hear from his own daughter.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Boston

  The next letter from Mr. Cooper was a thrilling reassurance for Lydia. He said that he took no interest in any of the other respondents and that she was the only one he wanted to meet. It truly was her destiny to marry this man!

  He wanted her to come out in late spring, after the roundup and branding were finished. She was a bit disappointed to miss all those activities, but she supposed that it also meant that she and Mr. Cooper would have more time to become acquainted. It also meant that she would have more time to prepare herself.

  First was the issue of riding. She was actually an accomplished rider—side-saddle, of course. But surely, living in the West required that she master riding a horse astride. That was a difficult thing to arrange. She had to invent tea parties, trips to the library, and doctors’ appointments in order to spend long afternoons away from home undetected, make her way over to the far side of town where her face would not be known, and hire private lessons. Her instructor was not an advocate of ladies riding like men, but for the right fee, he was made to have an open mind.

  Her maid, Beatrice, was the only person she had taken into her confidence, and she was instrumental in all of these clandestine activities. She helped Lydia secure a pair of pants that fit under her skirts and allowed for both comfort and warmth in this new position in the saddle. At least, as much warmth as could be found in the frigid March temperatures. Still, it was an exhilarating step toward her future home, and a much more secure way to stay on top of a horse!

  There were other lessons to ensure her readiness. She devoured everything she could find on the history of Cheyenne, the history of ranching in the West, and the revolutionary changes brought on by the railroad and barbed wire. Also, the opening up of European markets. Grazing. Breeding. Round-ups. Calving. Lydia was determined to impress Mr. Cooper with her knowledge of the ranching life.

  “Are there really no buffalo left?” Beatrice asked.

  “No. There don’t appear to be, which is hard to believe, because apparently there were millions until very recently. I would have liked to have seen them,” Lydia said.

  “I saw your pictures of those big-horned cattle.”

  “Longhorns,” Lydia said.

  “They look pretty dangerous.”

  “Well, I won’t be seeing too many of them. Their bodies are very hardy, and their long legs were perfectly suited to travel thousands of miles on those long cattle drives from Texas to California or up to the northern territories. But now, with so many ranches in the north, and being able to use trains to transport the cattle, everyone is switching over to these short-legged, meatier cows.”

  She showed Beatrice a photograph. Beatrice shook her head in disbelief.

  “A rancher’s wife! When are you going to tell them?”

  “Not until I’m ready to leave. I don’t need endless weeks of them telling me what a foolish thing this is, or trying to stop me, not that they could. Yes, Beatrice. A rancher’s wife!”

  Beatrice was constantly at odds with the lady of the house and could well understand Lydia’s need for escape.

  “You’ll be well rid of this place,” Beatrice said.

  Lydia was more than a little guilt-ridden at the thought of leaving Beatrice behind. With both herself and her niece, Virginia, gone, Beatrice would be at Florence’s mercy, a daunting prospect.

  “You should keep an eye out for other positions. And I’ll keep an eye out as well. You remember that Virginia said there are a number of wealthy families in Cheyenne now. They must need staff—or perhaps the larger hotels.”

  Beatrice shook her head. “It’s a long way to go just to change bed sheets an
d scrub floors. I’m sure I’ll be just fine. But . . . don’t you worry. If a woman of your advanced years can find a husband, there is hope for us all.”

  She really was the rudest, most belligerent maid in all of Boston, if not in all of the continental U.S. Lydia was truly going to miss her.

  *****

  The day finally arrived when Oscar and Florence Bellamy had to be informed of Lydia’s imminent departure. She felt a tingle of anticipation at the prospect of their shock and their futile attempts to get her to stay.

  “I am following in Virginia’s footsteps, and have become engaged to a man in Cheyenne. A rancher . . . I am to be a rancher’s wife.”

  There was a long, satisfying moment of silence.

  “Well, my goodness, Oscar. Imagine that. Our Lydia is getting married. And moving out West. What a lovely surprise. Don’t you think so, darling?”

  “Oh, quite. Our hearty congratulations, Lydia. And to be in the same place with Virginia. You’ll be able to look out for her. Especially now that a child is expected,” Oscar said.

  “Of course. You’ll be able to tend to Virginia’s little one, just as you were able to help out with our little Walter,” Florence said.

  “I rather think I will be too busy with my obligations at my new home to be of that kind of assistance. Of course, I look forward to meeting Virginia’s new family, but I will have one of my own. Mr. Cooper has several grown children living in the area and a very prosperous ranch, where I’m sure I’ll be fully occupied.”

  “When are you leaving, my dear?” Florence inquired hopefully.

  This was not at all what Lydia had expected. She could only scoff inwardly at her own foolish predictions. Florence and Oscar were practically celebrating at the thought of getting rid of her. Had she really been that much of a burden? Or perhaps simply a daily reminder of a late wife who had been supplanted by a woman who did not wish to think on the first Mrs. Bellamy.

  “Next Friday,” Lydia replied.

  “So soon! Naughty Lydia. That’s not a lot of time.” Florence remembered an impending inconvenience. “Oh, Oscar, dear. We are going to have to find someone who can take over when Nanny is indisposed. Quickly.”

  “Yes, quite. Well, we see the Griswalds tomorrow. Perhaps they can recommend someone.”

  So that was it. No questions about her betrothed. No concerns about her uncertain future or the difficulties or complications likely to face a sheltered Boston lady in the rough and untamed West. Just a concern about who was going to cover her babysitting duties! The unlikely image of a Western WANTED poster flashed through her mind. Only, her own poster would read UNWANTED! By her late husband. By the Bellamy family. By every bachelor in Boston.

  Oh, Mr. Cooper. Take me away from all this indifference. Let me know what it is to be cherished, to be wanted.

  *****

  The day of departure was finally at hand. In addition to two boxes full of books—Mr. Cooper had said he was very fond of reading—Lydia’s possessions had been weeded down to six trunks of clothing. She knew that most of her wardrobe was too elegant for ranch life. Still, she needed something to start with, and a few pretty gowns would not be amiss. There would surely be a few occasions when she would want to get her new husband’s full admiration.

  She gave Beatrice several of her nice dresses and made sure that Florence knew that Beatrice should not be accused of stealing them. Florence did seem a bit outraged at the thought of a common maid being in possession of such fine items. But why should it be any of her concern?

  “I have one last little gift for you.” Lydia handed an envelope to Beatrice. “It’s just in case there are any . . . hard times ahead.”

  Beatrice opened the envelope with great curiosity and was astonished to pull out 10 ten-dollar bills.

  “It’s a fortune,” she marveled.

  “It was easily spared. Courtesy of my late husband’s wise investments. Be sure to write me, Beatrice.”

  “Hmmph. Be sure yourself. Your letters will be a lot more interesting than mine.”

  Lydia had known Beatrice almost all of the maid’s twenty-seven years. She had watched over Beatrice and her niece, Virginia, when they were both babies and she herself was a child of thirteen. She could not resist wrapping her arms around the young woman and drawing her in for a tight hug. Beatrice stiffened in surprise, then allowed her head to fall on Lydia’s shoulder. After a moment, she fled the room, sniffling. Lydia’s own melancholy was lifted; how nice it was to know that she would be missed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Five long days on the train finally landed Lydia at the Union Pacific station in Cheyenne. It was long and uncomfortable and she savored every moment of it. Discomforts were part of the Western experience, and she would not shy away from them.

  She might have troubled to change into a new outfit, but it would be another three days before she and Mr. Cooper laid eyes on one another. Until then, Mr. Cooper had thought it best that Lydia have a little time to spend with her niece, Virginia, and her family. He was so terribly thoughtful. She did want to see Virginia, and after all, it might be best to have a chance to rest and bathe, and be well-prepared to meet her fiancé.

  A tall, attractive man with dark hair and a dark mustache came up to her on the train platform.

  “Mrs. Maxwell?”

  “Yes?”

  He warmly took her hand in his. “Lewis Carlyle, at your service.”

  Virginia’s husband. Handsome, with a sweet sparkle in his eyes. He was a ringing endorsement for the mail order bride program. If only all the gentlemen were guaranteed to be this appealing.

  “Virginia wanted to meet you, but the baby is only a week old, and the soot in the air around the station can be thick, so we thought to err on the side of caution.”

  “Oh, how wonderful. A week, you say. And all are doing well?”

  “Splendidly.”

  “Girl or boy?”

  “Girl. Felicity Mabel Carlyle.”

  “Oh, Mr. Carlyle, I am so glad to hear it.”

  “No ‘Mr. Carlyle’. We are family, and I will only answer to Lewis. Shall I . . . call you Aunt Lydia?”

  “Heavens, no! Lydia will be just fine. I will feel much younger if I don’t have to claim such a mature nephew.”

  He offered her his arm. “Lydia. Shall we?”

  *****

  After her luggage had been seen to, Lewis escorted Lydia to Main Street and the feed store where he worked.

  “Here it is. Right upstairs.”

  It was one thing to hear from Virginia’s letters that she had gone from living in a fine house on Boston’s Beacon Hill to presently living above a feed store in Cheyenne. But now Lydia was able to confirm it with her own eyes.

  It was, of course, wonderful to see Virginia again. Her auburn hair and classic beauty were little changed. But the slightly spoiled, somewhat frivolous girl that Lydia remembered had been transformed by love. Her pride in her husband was a marvel to see. When they had first corresponded, he had promised her a life of comfortable affluence. Then, before Virginia’s arrival, his business affairs had collapsed.

  How Virginia had reconciled herself to such a change of prospects, Lydia didn’t know. What was obvious was that these misfortunes were long behind them, and Virginia and Lewis were hopelessly devoted to one another and thrilled senseless over their new child.

  In Lewis’s absence, Lydia remarked, “You have done so well for yourself, my dear. In all the ways that truly count.”

  “There was only one thing lacking in my happiness, and that is about to be rectified. You, Aunt Lydia. I wanted to know that you were going to be as happy as I am.”

  “Well, that remains to be seen.”

  “But the odds are in your favor. Mr. Cooper is a fine man.”

  “You know him? How?”

  “Cheyenne can be quite a small town. His daughter is my laundress. And Mr. Cooper currently has two books of mine in his possession. You will enjoy reading together, I think.”<
br />
  “How extraordinary!”

  It would have been an extraordinary, had it been a true coincidence. But it was perhaps too soon for Virginia to enlighten her aunt on the highly orchestrated nature of this match.

  The days spent with Virginia’s family opened Lydia up to an acute longing. Virginia would touch her husband’s arm and they would exchange a loving glance-, or Lewis would put his hand on Virginia’s back or brush a strand of her hair aside. And Lydia was certain that it was her own presence that was restraining them from even deeper displays of affection.

  Still, they were never in the room together for any length of time without a compliment, or a gentle, respectful exchange, or a laugh. They were so fond of teasing one another. Could Lydia ever hope to have that kind of happiness?

  *****

  “Why does she want to stay here? She should be staying with her family,” Giles wondered.

  “She is staying with them for a few days. But things are so noisy and unsettled over there, what with the new baby. And it so happens that a lot of people back East are fascinated by ranch life, and Mrs. Carlyle’s aunt happens to be one of them. So, we thought, if it’s all right with you, that she could spend a little time over here as our guest and satisfy her curiosity about cattle ranching.”

  “A lady from Boston? Interested in cattle ranching? I can’t imagine that.”

  “Well, you know Mrs. Carlyle has been a very good friend. Mr. Carlyle, too. So, I think we can do them this little favor. And probably meet a wonderful lady in the bargain.”

  Giles shrugged, not able to think of a good objection.

  “Good, I’ll make up a room for her. She’ll be over here Saturday afternoon. I’ll pick her up myself.”

  Giles was committed to making sure Fanny was happy staying in the ranch house, so he reasoned that this was a fairly easy concession. It would be odd, though, having a stranger in the house.