I will be travelling by train, to where I do not know. I must search to find a new place to call home, for I am unsure where my heart belongs here with you.
Please ask one of my sisters to take care of Pally.
Emmitt
Rachel dropped the letter and ran to the barn faster than she had ever run in her life. She was still in her nightdress with nothing on her feet. The sun had yet to rise fully at this point in the morning. She intended to take one of the horses to the train station in an effort to find Emmitt before it was too late. She had no idea how to ride a horse properly, but that was a thought that had not even occurred to her at this point. All she knew for sure was that she had to get to the train station. Who knows if he has left yet or not?
As she rushed into the barn she was alarmed to find Emmitt about to saddle one of the horses. She was immediately struck by the sadness in his eyes. His entire demeanor was different. He looked defeated, but Rachel still recognized the man she loved behind weakened physical appearance. It’s not too late, Rachel thought to herself.
“Emmitt, wait please,” she shouted aloud, “take me with you.”
Her shouting startled Emmitt but the sound of her voice woke him out of his sad hazy state. Hear she was, outside and barefoot on Christmas morning, showing concern for him. Still, he was skeptical of what he was hearing her say.
“Take you with me?” he asked.
“Yes!” she shouted, near hysterical at this point.
Emmitt was stunned and confused. He briefly wondered if he was having another feverish dream but abandoned the thought when he saw Rachel shivering.
“You would leave all this behind for me?” he asked.
Rachel took a deep breath and without batting an eye declared, “Yes. My heart belongs to you now.”
Emmitt could feel his heart expanding as though her love was projecting directly to it. Rachel began walking steadily towards Emmitt. A smile was forming on her face as tears rolled down her cheeks. She took another deep breath in effort to steady her voice and said, “Wherever you go I will be with you.” She put her hands to her chest over her heart and said, “My home is with you.”
Emmitt dropped the saddle as he and Rachel rushed toward one another. He could see the tears streaming down her face as he reached his arms out to catch her as she jumped into his arms nearly knocking him backwards into a small stack of hay.
“I love you Emmitt Townshend,” she whispered into his ear. And at the sound of those words Emmitt pulled his head back to look Rachel in the eye before passionately kissing her, as though this act of affection would erase all of the loneliness he had felt since being widowed.
After this kiss concluded Rachel placed her hands on the sides of his face and pleaded, “please be my husband.”
Emmitt was so emotional that he could not speak. He held her tight and nodded his before kissing her again. He then quickly and smoothly swept her up off her feet and into his arms as he began to carry her back to the house.
***
The sounds of laughter began filling the house as Emmitt carried Rachel through the front door. The happy couple went to the living room where the sisters had decorated a small Christmas tree while Emmitt was still ill. Pally was found to be lying happily before the fireplace this Christmas morning. As Emmitt bent down to pet his dear dog Rachel was already in the kitchen preparing the morning tea.
“I am so sorry dear that I don’t have any presents for you this Christmas,” said Emmitt. “As you know I have been a little under the weather.”
“Don’t be silly,” she responded as she placed two steaming cups on the living room coffee table.
Emmitt held his cup for a long silent moment before raising it up and outward, a move that immediately roused the attention of his wife. She was happy to be back inside of the house with Emmitt where it was warm but she was still a little nervous due to his emotional state. He looked calm and at peace for maybe the first time since he had picked her up at the train station. And so, with his cup already raised in the air, he stood up and placed his other hand over his heart.
“I would like to propose a toast,” he began. “To my beautiful wife, Rachel, the most wonderful gift I could receive this Christmas.”
“And I would like to propose a toast as well,” Rachel added. “To my wonderful husband, Emmitt, the man who showed me the meaning of true love. Merry Christmas.”
The happy couple smiled at one another, savoring the fact that the future ahead of them looked bright. Rachel had thought of a gift she would love to share with Emmitt next Christmas. She was fairly confident that he would approve and that it would bring him joy as well. She wondered, is it too soon to bring it up? Of course the answer was no, it was never too soon for Rachel to be honest. She decided that she would bring it up during dinner that night.
“Emmitt,” she said. “I have something I want to tell you and you don’t have to say anything back right now if you are not ready to.”
Emmitt was unsure of how to respond. He nodded for her to go ahead and speak.
“Emmitt, I would love for us to adopt a child next Christmas,” she said. “Perhaps we might find one named Margaret.”
“Nothing could make me happier Rachel,” Emmitt said immediately as he felt tears in his well up in his eyes.
“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to upset you dear.”
“No Rachel, you don’t understand. These are tears of joy,” he exclaimed.
The couple stayed up until midnight by the fire before retiring to bed together. They found that even after all the time they had spent together, building a bond in the last month, they still had so much to learn about one another. They were now ready to share in their lives together, as husband and wife, and to provide a loving home for a child. Some would call this true love, but to Emmitt and Rachel it was their own Christmas miracle.
*****
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 walk 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 conversatio
n…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.
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