[2015] Cowboy Saves a Widow

by Christian Michael

  “That is a bold faced lie! This woman is simply traveling to marry me. You see, I was searching for a wife, and looked back home to find one. She answered me, and as it appears, she wasn’t in the best of situations. But that money was hers to take by all my reckoning, and she is old enough to make her own decisions, so let her be.”

  Bird pulled the letter she had written out of his pocket, and unfolded it. He smoothed it flat against his chest, and handed it over to the sheriff. Amelia softly prayed that the sheriff would see her side of things and let her go.

  “Forget this nonsense! She is my daughter, and I have every right to take her home with me!” Toby had flown into a rage, and tried to yank the letter away from the sheriff, but he held it out of reach and placed his hand on Toby’s chest to keep him at bay.

  “I’m sorry, but it appears the young lady has done nothing wrong. It says right here that she used the money her mother left her, and no doubt she has a bank note to prove it. Do you, my dear?”

  He turned to Amelia, who nodded, and opened her satchel. Water poured out of her bag as she opened it, and the note was wet and washed out, but the words were still visible on it.

  She handed it over to the sheriff who skimmed it, and looked back at the letter Bird had handed to him. He looked at the three who were gathered around him, and shook his head. Nobody said anything for a moment, then the sheriff finally broke the silence.

  “It all checks out here, Toby, so I am afraid there’s nothing I can do to help you. If she marries this man, she is his wife, and that puts her in his family. If she chooses to remain as she is, you have a bit more say, but not much. But really the choice is up to her.”

  Toby’s face turned bright red, and he slammed his hat on the ground.

  “She can’t do this to me! I won’t have it!”

  “That’s not your choice to make, Sir, and I must say I have fallen in love with your daughter.”

  He turned away from Toby, and looked down at Amelia. She felt her face turn red with a blush, and never before had she felt so vulnerable. She held his gaze for a few seconds, then she looked down at her feet. He cupped her head in his hands and lifted her face to look him in the eye.

  “Amelia, I think you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on, and if you will have me, I would love to have the honor of making you my bride.”

  Amelia could feel tears in her eyes as she nodded, and the sheriff whooped.

  “Well doesn’t this just beat all? I thought I was out here to make an arrest, and instead I am making a wedding! I can perform the ceremony right now if you two would like!”

  They both laughed and Amelia nodded. Toby continued to shout his protest, but the sheriff motioned for his deputy to come over and assist Toby out of the way. Amelia smiled as she took her place beside Bird.

  Their ceremony was short and sweet, but it was perfect for Amelia. She often wondered what her wedding day would be like, but she never imagined it would be like this. Yet, it was absolutely perfect in every way. Bird held out his hand, and helped her up into his wagon.

  As they rode off into the sunset, Amelia was happier than she had ever been. She had found what love truly was, and she wouldn’t have changed a single thing. She was ready to be a wife, and she was ready for her happy ever after.

  Finally, the wait was over.

  THE END.

  Hannah’s Story

  Mail Order Bride

  CHRISTIAN MICHAEL

  Hannah sat in the parlor with the light streaming in through the window, sipping her tea. If someone were to drop by, they might think her the epitome of a high society lady. She was dressed in her best green dress, hat and gloves, just back from church on a Sunday morning. She had politely turned down the pastor’s wife’s offer to join them for supper and she had assured Mrs. Winkle that she had plenty of reserves in her pantry and the walk in freezer to keep her going for months. Of course that wasn’t true. Her father was killed two years ago…just before the end of the war. Her mother’s illness had dragged on for the last year before she passed away, draining them of any savings her father had left in his coffers. Hannah hadn’t been able to work during that year because her mother needed her. The money was gone and the food was almost gone and to put the icing on an already sinking cake…she’d just found out the day before that the home she lived in and thought was hers was heavily mortgaged. Her father had borrowed against it to revive his business. After he went off to war, the business began to fail. After her mother became sick and neither of them could tend to it, the business failed altogether. Hannah had been discreetly selling of their family heirlooms for the past year. Debtors were clawing at the doors and Hannah had nothing that was worth anything left to sell. Within a week she would be out on the street with nowhere to turn. She took another sip of her tea and reached for the newspaper lying in front of her on the table.

  Hannah’s best friend Mary gave her the paper. She was the only other soul on earth that knew the true state of Hannah’s plight. Hannah’s pride prevented her for asking anyone for help and because of that, her pride had begun to choke the life right out of her. The truth was that since the war ended, everyone was facing challenges of their own and Hannah felt like asking for help would just be adding another burden to her kindly neighbors who were already as overwhelmed as she.

  The newspaper was folded open to the advertisements and one article had been circled with dark ink. Hannah had already read it multiple times…but she hadn’t quite made up her mind what she would do until that very moment. She read it once more:

  “Thirty-four-year-old widowed rancher with one child seeking wife/long-term companion/mother for my child. Lady between the ages of seventeen and thirty will suffice. Looks would be appreciated, but not required.”

  No matter how many times Hannah read that, she still found herself shocked by it. In the world she used to live in…the one before her parents died and she was still on track for finding a suitable husband before the age of twenty-one, such a letter would have been a source of amusement. It would have been the topic of a dinner party conversation perhaps…or that of a luncheon or a tea. Everyone would discuss this rancher who advertised for a housekeeper and nanny…in the form of a wife. Some would have a good laugh and others would just shake their heads and wonder about the savagery of the west. But that was before…Now, Hannah had to force herself to be pragmatic…she needed the room and board and he needed a wife. Mary was right…it seemed like the solution.

  With a heavy sign of resignation, Hannah went over to the desk in the corner. Sitting down in front of it, she took out her stationary and her ink and quill. She stared at the blank page for a long time and then she finally wrote:

  May 21, 1887

  Dear Mr. Skylar,

  My name is Hannah Louise McMurray. I am from a small town in New York and I was given a copy of the Western Chronicle by a friend. I have recently lost both of my parents and find myself on my own without benefit of employment. While having never held employment outside of the home, I am quite adept at the inner workings of a household. I will be honest and admit that I have no experience with children, but with that being said I will add that I am not averse to learning how to care for one. I am well-bred and moderately well-educated as I did attend school up to my tenth year. I am now twenty-three years old. I was an only child and I have never been married nor do I have children of my own although a desire for a family is something that I’ve harbored for a while now.

  I hope that is enough information for you to make a decision as to whether I would be a suitable choice for you and your child. I will anxiously await your response.

  Sincerely,

  Hannah Louise McMurray

  Hannah read and re-read the letter at least six times before finally putting it into an envelope. She copied the address from the ad onto the envelope and sealed it with her family seal. She stared at it then for another hour or two before at last taking her parasol and beginning the fifteen minute w
alk towards the post office. She was halfway there before realizing that it was Sunday and the postmaster wouldn’t be in. She carried the letter back home and sat it on her desk…subconsciously already planning on not going through with mailing it after all. It would seem that fate had different ideas for her, however. When the pastor’s wife Abigail came to visit her the next day and bring the casserole left over from their meal the day before, she kindly took the letter with her when she left. She had to go by the post office herself anyways.

  * * *

  Luke Skylar beat his dusty boots at the door and took off his dust covered hat before entering the small house. He ran his calloused hand through his black hair and picked up the stack of letters that he had retrieved from the postmaster the day before. He looked at them again, six letters from women he knew nothing about…and tossed them back on the table. He could smell the aroma of freshly burned salt pork coming from the kitchen. Instead of reading the letters now, he would eat breakfast with Lily…after he put out any fires, and then he would think about reading them again.

  He found his eight year old raven haired beauty in a smoke-filled kitchen, standing over a cast iron skillet full of salt pork so well done it was practically unrecognizable. She looked up at him with tears in her dark blue eyes. “I’m sorry Pa! I was trying to have this ready for you before you came in. I put the pork on before I went out to get the eggs. Now it’s all black and ruined!”

  Luke smiled at his girl. She didn’t seem to know that in his eyes, she could do no wrong. “It looks fine to me,” he said, picking up a plate. “You better check your biscuits.” He could see little puffs of smoke coming from inside the potbellied stove.

  “Oh no! The biscuits!” Poor Lily grabbed a pot holder and opened the stove, only to find four biscuits that strongly resembled the coal they sometimes used to fuel it. She pulled them out, dropped the pan onto the table and then dramatically falling into a chair, she began to sob.

  Luke put down the plate he’d filled with pork and went over to her. He crouched down next to her and said, “Please don’t cry Lily bug. You did the best you could.”

  “It’s not good enough, Pa. You work so hard and all I have to do is tend to a few things around here. I mess at least one thing up a day. I don’t know how you stand me.” Luke looked at his daughter with the same eyes she was looking at him back with.

  “I don’t have a choice,” he said, trying not to smile. “The minute you were born I took one look and knew that you’d be nothing but trouble. I tried to send you back, but they wouldn’t take you…” Lily was smiling through her tears.

  “Oh Pa, you’ve told me this story before. I know that you’re making it all up.”

  “Oh no! It’s true! Every last word. When I couldn’t send you back I rode all the way over to the Cherokee reservation and I asked to speak to the chief.” Lily rolled her eyes and giggled. “I told him I wanted to make a trade…I’d take one of their oldest, most wrinkled up women off their hands if they would take the squalling baby off of mine…and do you know what he said?”

  She giggled again. “No Pa, what did he say?”

  “He said that sometimes you find your biggest treasure underneath a pile of stone. So, I should keep you and keep looking for the treasure. Lift up…”

  “Pa!”

  “Come on, stand up.” Lily stood and Luke made a play of searching her chair. “Nothing there yet…but I’m waiting.”

  Still giggling Lily threw her skinny little arms around her father and squeezed. “I love you, Pa.”

  “I love you too Lily bug, even if you can’t cook. Let’s see what we can salvage here, okay?”

  “I haven’t made the eggs yet…”

  “Maybe I should do that, just to help you out…”

  She laughed. “Maybe you should. I’m hungry too.” Luke took out another pan and set it on the stove. “Hey Pa…”

  “Yes Lily bug?”

  “Are you gonna open the letters?” Poor Lily wanted nothing more than a mother. Luke’s wife died six years earlier of consumption when Lily was just a toddler. His wife’s Aunt Mabel had lived with them then and she had taken care of the household chores and Lily. They lost her six months ago to yellow fever. Since then poor Lily had tried to take over the role of the woman of the house…but it was a big task for such a little girl.

  “I’ll look at them this evening, Lily.”

  She gave him a doubtful look, but she let it go. He had placed that ridiculous ad on a whim because his heart was breaking for his daughter. As soon as he’d done it, he regretted it. He had no intentions in answering any of them. He didn’t really want to read them. He saw the doubt in his daughter’s eyes and the guilt over getting her hopes up began to grow and flourish inside of his chest.

  They ate their eggs and burnt pork and then Luke went back out to the pasture to finish fixing the fence where his cattle had been getting loose. While he was out there he searched his soul. He wondered if he could do this. Maybe if he explained to the woman that he couldn’t possibly feel anything romantic for her. Would it be fair if she knew ahead of time that all he really wanted was a mother for his child?

  By the time he got back late that evening, Lily was asleep in the living room chair, cuddled up to one of her books. Luke scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom. He lay her down on the little wooden bed he had made for her himself and kissed her on the forehead. Luke wasn’t much for socializing or conversation…but without Lily here the past six years he was sure he would have gone mad from the sheer isolation of the life he led. He owed her a better life than this.

  He went back out into the living room and picked up the letters. Taking them over to his chair he sat down and laid them in his lap. He was exhausted and he had to be back up at sunrise to begin it all over again. He looked around at the cabin he’d built nine years ago when he had first brought his blushing bride to Texas. Lily did her best to keep it clean, but it was another daunting task for an eight year old. It didn’t look anything like it had when Cassie was alive.

  Luke and Lily’s mother Cassandra met in 1874 when she was only seventeen years old. Luke was a member of the Eleventh Infantry and stationed at Fort Richardson from 1873-1876. The soldier’s jobs there were to maintain the post, help the local law officers to keep the peace, pursue criminals and deserters, protect cattle herds, patrol for Indians and escort wagon trains. It was on one of those escorts that Luke met Cassandra. She and her father and her two little brothers were on their way to New Mexico from Arkansas when they were attacked by Indians. It happened by fate that Luke and some of his men were on their way to meet a wagon train coming in. They unfortunately came along after her father and siblings had been murdered but in time to prevent them from taking Cassie. Even now Luke shuddered at the thought of what they would have done to her. He knew as soon as he saw her that she was going to be his wife. Cassie went on to stay with relatives in New Mexico Territory, but Luke never forgot her. She told him that her uncle owned a restaurant near Santa Fe. When he got out of the army in 1876, he went to find her. A year later, they were married and with a small ranch of cattle and a house that Luke had built for them, they began their lives.

  With Cassandra gone the little cabin had become more of a shelter for him and Lily than a home…no matter how hard he tried. He looked down at the letters in his lap. He was sure that it wasn’t possible that he could ever fall in love again…but Lily deserved a mother. Picking up the first one in the pile he opened the seal, unfolded it and began to read.

  ***

  The stagecoach jostled and jarred Hannah’s battered body, knocking her hat sideways for the umpteenth time today. She tried to find solace in the fact that up until a day ago, she’d been able to travel by rail. The stagecoach hit another bump and sent her hat flying into the gentleman’s lap across from her. Her solace was quickly waning.

  “Here you go dear,” the older man said, handing back her hat.

  “Thank you Mr. Peters. I suppose it w
ould be wiser of me to just leave it off for the remainder of the trip.”

  Mr. Peters was a round, jolly man. He was traveling from Philadelphia with his niece Hildegard who was neither round, nor jolly. Hildegard was making the same trip that Hannah was. She was on her way to meet the man that would become her husband. Hildie, as her uncle called her was the tallest, thinnest woman Hannah had ever seen. The whole trip she kept trying to imagine the size of the man that would be suitable for her. In her mind, he was a Goliath.

  “Don’t worry about it at all dear,” he said. “My sweet, departed Gretchen wouldn’t have been caught dead in public without her hat. You just keep pinning it on and I’ll keep tossing it back.”

  Hannah smiled at the elder man. He reminded her of her father…not in physical attributes, but his pleasant personality.

  Hannah wondered what her father would have thought of this trip. She knew that he’d always hoped for more for her than what he and her mother had when they first started out. They’d had nothing when they married and her father had built a business from scratch, selling farm equipment. He’d started with one piece and each time he sold one, he would invest in another and another…eventually his establishment was the biggest in their county and they did well and had a good life until the war came along and tore it apart. Her father had a hard time rebuilding after that, and that was when he’d taken out the loans against the house. They were able to maintain their standard of living for a few years until her father got sick. He was in the army at the time. They gave him a medical discharge and sent him home…but it was too late. He died within a month. It wasn’t long after that her mother’s health also began to fail. Then it all fell apart.