Mail Order Bride: JUMBO Mail Order Bride 20 Book Box Set

by Hope Sinclair

“I guess now that I have made up my mind, I don’t know what to do next. Where does one find an eligible God-fearing man?”

  “You must be the luckiest ex-nun in the world —”

  “Novice nun,” Mary Margaret corrected automatically.

  “I happen to work for Miss Joanna Hunter, who runs the Lexington mail order bride agency.”

  “We’ve been having such a hard time finding suitable women that I was just on my way to put an advertisement in the paper, for one of our bachelors.”

  Mary Margaret could not believe her luck. This could not be a coincidence. On the very day she decides that she should leave the convent, she stumbles onto a marriage coordinator. No, this was divine intervention.

  “Can I see it?”

  Matrimonial: A respectable gentleman in Nevada seeks a kind and dutiful lady to enter into marriage with. A simple lady willing to adapt to a life on a farm; someone who can make a house a home. If you feel that you are suitable, please write to the address below.

  If there was one way in which Mary Margaret could describe herself, it was dutiful. After three years in the convent, she had no problems following instructions. As she broke out in a huge smile, she thanked the Almighty for showing her the path, where she thought there was none.

  TWO

  “Aii good man, you need to pay up, it’s closing time,” Daniel McGraw said, tapping the sleeping man on the shoulder. The stranger reeked of spilt whiskey. As the man groaned without moving a muscle, Daniel sighed. He let the snoring man be, and started wiping down the bar counter around him instead. He hated this part of his work. At the irritated thought, he grimaced to himself. What a strange saloon owner he made.

  Still, why couldn’t men drink their fill, then pay up and leave? He threw the soaked rug into the sink and turned back to the man. The man was new in town and Daniel was wary of insisting on being paid when he did not know how the sleeping man would react when he woke him up.

  It’s not that Daniel could not defend himself. He could, but he hated to get into fistfights. More than a dozen times, he had let a man go without settling his tab, just to avoid a confrontation. He didn’t fancy himself a gunslinger either and besides, fighting never got a man anywhere. Then again, maybe that was his biggest problem. He had no “pluck” as his father had constantly told him.

  Income from the saloon had dwindled considerably since the death of the old man. Daniel knew that he was to blame. Maybe he hadn’t been the best suited to inherit, but he was all that was left. His brother Brett had disappeared almost three years ago, off to California to dig for gold.

  Their father, bedridden and weak had turned to the door at every sound, hoping his elder son had returned home to take his place as the rightful heir. He never did, and Daniel found himself the owner of a saloon and a dried out farm.

  The saloon had grown on him though, Daniel thought, looking around the now empty room fondly. It got him away from the farmhouse. Every creaking sound vibrated on the walls in that place, increasing Daniel’s lonesomeness. He was so bone weary tired of going it alone. His heart ached for a woman to warm his bed and carry his children.

  Daniel’s mind wandered to the mail order bride advertisement he had placed months ago. So far, he had received two replies, none of which seemed suitable.

  He needed a woman who was not afraid of hard work, who would mind the farm while he got on with the business of running the saloon. The life in the frontier would not be as comfortable or as civilized as back East. The last thing he wanted was a needy woman, who expected to be treated like royalty. The advertising had been a last ditch effort to find a woman that he could build a family life with.

  The only women he knew were the ones who frequented the saloon. Women of the world, none of them the marrying kind. Besides, they were hardly the type of woman to stay quietly at the farm and leave him to his own devices. No, a mail order bride was just what he needed. A practical woman who would not expect love, flowers and all the things that came with courtship. Daniel did not believe in none of that love nonsense people were concerned with. He considered himself a practical man. Love was a fool’s errand. Look where it had gotten his father. Their mother had run off with a salesman from somewhere north of the country and never returned.

  Daniel had seen what love did to a man. His father had lived for the saloon, spending all his hours and most nights there. His dream of retiring from the saloon business and living off the farm had died when his wife ran off.

  Daniel would be wiser than his father. His wife would be a quiet and obedient woman, who would bear him children and live contentedly on the farm. He saw her now bustling around the kitchen, stirring food over the stove and then serving him before retiring to bed; the image pleased him.

  His shoulder muscles ached and he reached back to massage them. A weariness came over him. He made up his mind to wake the man up, or at least get him off the premises. Daniel shook the stranger hard, but the man would not budge. He went round to the other side of the counter, and placed his hands under the man’s arms.

  Daniel dragged the man’s comatose body off the counter and contemplated dragging him outside to spend the night on the street. Problem was, even though winter was easing off, the night cold could make a man seriously ill. He turned back towards the bar and dragged the man, who fortunately was not a heavy sort, to the back of the saloon.

  The adjoining room was the storage area, and Daniel slid the man down on a rug on the floor. Next, he took a blanket, which he used himself on the nights he was too tired to go home, and threw it over the man. He would lock the back and front door; that way, the man would not takeoff with Daniel’s considerable stock.

  After the warmth of the saloon, the night air was a shock and Daniel pulled his coat tighter around him. By the side of the saloon, on a patch of grass, was his buggy and horse. He patted his horse’s nostrils and untethered the reins. The journey home took him forty minutes or so.

  He worked automatically, having done the same thing every single night, whether it was a Sunday or a Wednesday. He released his horse into the barn, and with the light from the half moon, he entered the house through the kitchen door. Daniel lit a lamp and kicked off his heavy boots from his legs.

  The house had taken on new dimensions ever since he got the idea of contacting the Lexington Agency for an arranged marriage. Now he looked at it with critical eyes. Was it a suitable place for a new bride? He hoped so. The only nagging worry was that he had not found her yet. He would give it another month, and if nothing happened, Daniel resolved to contact another marriage broker.

  The wooden floor creaked underneath his feet as he padded to the washroom. He threw water over his face and went to bed. Daniel had moved into the large room, unused for many years. The bed was too big for him, but that would change soon, he thought, as he sank into the feather-filled mattress.

  His eyes grew heavy as soon as his head touched the pillow; images of a sweet looking girl smiling at him, swimming in his brain. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, his normally tight features relaxing at the comfort of a girl somewhere waiting for him.

  THREE

  Mary Margaret knelt down and pulled the weeds from the still moist soil, her mind elsewhere. Normally she enjoyed weeding, but these were not normal times. She had taken ‘peace of mind’ for granted in the years she had been at the convent. That peace was soon to come to an end, one way or another. She stopped weeding and clutched her rosary. Tears fell from her eyes onto the tiny white cross, as she was overcome by an uncharacteristic wave of panic.

  “Mary Margaret,” a voice called from behind.

  Startled, she jumped to her feet and gingerly swung around. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that it was just Josephine, once a fellow novice nun.

  “Are you alright?” Josephine asked, a look of concern coloring her features.

  Mary Margaret wiped the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her dress. It was dark brown and would have been judged by anyone o
utside the convent as decidedly plain.

  Taking a big sigh, Mary Margaret turned away as she confessed the truth to her friend. “No, despite taking my decision I feel torn.”

  Josephine’s look of concern deepened. “But you seemed so sure a few weeks ago.”

  “I know, but it’s just now starting to dawn on me what a huge step I’m about to take. So many what ifs! I’ve written to the gentleman in Nevada and he has not written back.”

  “Be patient. The Almighty would not lead you astray.” Her friend looked at her inquisitively before whispering, “Do you regret deciding to leave the convent?”

  Mary Margaret thought hard. The truth was that despite how things were going, she felt it in her bones that the Lord’s plans for her did not involve joining the Dominican Sisters. She had prayed for hours and days until her knees hurt and she knew she had done the right thing. She shook her head emphatically.

  “No, I have to keep faith that I did the right thing.”

  “But Mary Margaret…have you thought about what this actually means?” Josephine said, looking behind furtively. “You will have to…lay with this man,” as the words passed her lips Josephine’s cheeks turned flaming red.

  Mary Margaret could feel her cheeks flush with equal embarrassment. She was not clueless, part of Convent chores included taking care of horses, cows and sheep. She knew the basic, although for the life of her, she wondered why anyone would endure such practices. But she also knew it was a wife’s duty to suffer her husband’s attentions. After all the scriptures did say to “be fruitful and multiply.”

  “The Almighty made Adam and Eve. In his great wisdom I am sure the nightly visitations can be endured,” she replied, decidedly uncomfortable.

  “Well, better you than me,” Josephine stated with a sigh. “I have to go. I will pray that your gentleman in Nevada responds in a timely manner. God bless and protect you.”

  Mary Margaret watched her friend’s black nun’s habit disappear through the large veranda into the confines of the chapel. She felt more alone than ever. She was still at the convent through the mercy of the Mother Superior. The penance she had to pay was isolation. Mary Margaret was not allowed to mix with the other novices and she missed the presence and companionship of her religious sisters.

  She had been so sure that following her dreams was the will of God, but now with each passing day and no letter, her spirits kept plummeting. Thinking back now, Mary Margaret feared she might have acted too fast, if this did not work out, she had nowhere to go. After two years in the novitiate, she was pretty much estranged from her family as it was. Her mother had told her in no uncertain terms that she was not welcome back home; not after the embarrassment that she had caused the family by refusing to take her final vows.

  A bell rang inside the convent reminding Mary Margaret that it was lunch time. She sighed and stood up to stretch. She was not hungry and neither did she feel like staying within the confines of the convent. She went to the end of the garden, fetched some water from the tin that held water and splashed it on her hands and face. The only bright side to being in isolation was that she was free to come and go as she liked. Mary Margaret straightened the headscarf that covered her hair and took the walkway that led out of the convent compound and to the road.

  She skirted to the side to avoid being knocked down by a group of boys chasing each other down the street. A group of women sat on the steps of a tenement building talking loudly, some holding half-dressed toddlers in their arms. She would hate to live in the city permanently; Mary Margaret thought to herself, surveying the streets piled with papers, plastic and smoke from open fires. If she never saw New York again, she would have no regrets. Here people did not know each other by name, even if they were neighbors for years. Mary Margaret looked at the expressions of the men and women who passed by. They wore expressions of weariness. The worst ones were the ones whose faces were like masks, betraying no emotions. She did not want to be here. Her resolve renewed, she clutched the small rosary that sat round her neck and said a small prayer for herself.

  Dear Father, may I never know what it feels like to lose my love for the gift of life. Please Father, let this man in Nevada be my destiny, by your will alone. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen.

  FOUR

  “And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.”

  Luke 11:9

  The saloon was half filled with regulars, the air thick with smoke. Daniel took the quiet moment to go out back and open the letter he had not had a chance to look at in the morning. He fished it from the pocket of his jeans and sat down heavily on a wooden stool between drums of ale. He didn’t hold out much hope for this one either.

  Dear Sir,

  I came across your advertisement for a marriage via correspondence, and I must say that it struck a chord in me as soon as I read it. I am a simple country girl myself, having been brought up on a farm, though a small one. Hard work is not new to me and I believe that dawn should not find a person whom the Lord has gifted with good health, between blankets.

  My name is Mary Margaret Lay, from New York and I would consider it an honor and a blessing from God to come to Nevada to be your wife.

  Something tells me that you are a kind and simple man and that is exactly what I seek for myself. I have no grand dreams, though I long for a good family man whom I can raise a family with. My height is average and I am of a slim built, with light brown hair. I do not know how important looks are to you, but if you are like me, as I believe you are, what matters is the inner beauty of a person. That said, I have been told that I am pretty to look at, though I would not say so myself.

  I believe that marriage is a sacrament blessed from above. The scriptures say that the man is the head and the woman the neck, and if you find me acceptable, I will endeavor to support you in your God given role of the head of the family.

  I will stop there with the hope that I will hear from you and fulfill my life’s destiny.

  With God’s love,

  Mary Margaret Lay

  He found himself nodding in agreement. This was a woman who understood that a man was to be respected, and his instructions followed. Some parts of the letter did not make sense to Daniel, but the parts that did, pleased him immensely. He had no idea what the woman meant by fulfilling her destiny but it did not bother him in the least.

  “Is there ale for sale here?” a loud voice yelled out from the counter.

  Daniel hastily put the letter away and went to the front.

  “You have a lady back there?” Jonah, a regular said, causing most of the patrons to erupt in laughter.

  “You are most funny Jonah, what can I get you?”

  As Daniel poured out the ale into a tin cup, his mind returned to the letter from Mary Margaret. She sounded perfect. He made up his mind then and there to write her a proposal letter and enclose a train ticket. He felt a little hesitant about buying the ticket before she had confirmed but from what she had said, she was ready to be his wife. Daniel grinned and spent the rest of the day in unusually high spirits.

  At nine, his closing time, a stranger walked in wearing a wide brimmed hat that covered most of his face. Daniel looked up briefly from the floor, which he was sweeping, taking in the stranger’s height and rather scruffy clothes.

  “Sorry, but we are closed for the day,” Daniel said, expecting to hear the stranger’s feet turn back towards the door.

  The man kept coming and Daniel looked up puzzled. He watched the stranger’s familiar face, and when it dawned on him who it was, his jaw dropped.

  “Brett?” Daniel whispered.

  “None other,” Brett replied and grinned.

  He clapped a shocked Daniel on the back.

  “I’m surprised to find you here, didn’t think the saloon was your kind of work,” he muttered glancing around, “Where’s the old man?”

  “He died,” Daniel
replied in a flat voice. Brett inhaled sharply.

  “He kept asking for you on his death bed,” Daniel continued mercilessly.

  A shadow of sorrow crossed Brett’s face.

  “Well I wasn’t here was I? Too bad, I had hoped to see him again and give him my good news,” Brett replied dryly.

  “What news?”

  “I’m home to stay.” The announcement hovered in the silence between them.

  Daniel’s brain went into overdrive. Brett coming to stay? Where would he live and work?

  “Where will you live?” Daniel blurted out.

  “Did the farmhouse burn down?” his brother replied with a raised eyebrow.

  Daniel stuttered. “Well no, but I’m getting married soon, and I had intended to live there with my wife.”

  Brett’s face creased into a smile. He grabbed Daniel’s hand and pumped it hard, making him wince.

  “Well done brother. You never cease to surprise me. Who is the lucky girl and where in heavens name did you find her?”

  “Her name is Mary Margaret. She’s from New York, and she’ll be coming over in a few weeks.”

  Brett looked at him, curiosity marking his features.

  “Doesn’t sound like you’ve met her.”

  “I haven’t, but we’ve exchanged correspondence and she’s ready to get married.”

  Brett looked stunned. “You’re taking a mail order bride?”

  Daniel looked away sheepishly.

  “There are no decent girls around here,” he mumbled.

  Brett nodded. “I see. I will tell you this, I’m impressed. I know a few lads back in California who made matrimonial arrangement by correspondence.”

  Daniel turned to his brother eagerly. “Did the unions work out?”

  “I’d say most did, though a few of them ended up with wives with faces like a horse,” Brett replied with a chuckle.