The Montana Rancher's Bride (New Montana Brides)

by Susan Leigh Carlton

  “No way,” said Jack. “I’m not going to do your dirty work for you. Tell her yourself. Good luck on that one.” He moved over to thank the last group just leaving the church.

  Letty approached him. “Jack said you had something to tell me. If it’s what I think it is, forget it. You’re coming to dinner.” With that, she turned and walked away.

  After eating the best meal he’d had since his mother was killed, Case thanked Letty, and told her how much he appreciated the invitation, I would return the favor, but you’re not strong enough to stomach my cooking he said with a nervous laugh. He knew he wasn’t going to get off this easy.

  “Let’s talk.” Letty said to Case. “Your mother was a good friend, and you’re going to get our help whether you want it or not. What’s going on?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I feel empty. It’s the only way I can describe it.”

  “You’re around the same, what… five, six… people all day, every day? I would bet not ten words pass between you that isn’t cattle related. You’re lonely. You need new people in your life. You need to get out and associate with others.”

  “Awww Letty, everyone feels sorry for me. I don’t want their pity.”

  “You’re confusing sorrow with sympathy. You lost your mother and father the same day. It isn’t as if it they were sick and you knew it was coming. It’s a terrible blow to lose a parent even when you know it’s coming. It’s far worse when it’s unexpected, and both at once. It’s a big load to carry alone.

  “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

  Case choked and stammered. “Why do you… Where did that come… No,” he answered.

  “You need one,” she said. “You need someone to share your grief. Case, you need a wife.”

  “I grant you that. It would be nice to have someone who would share my feelings. Where do you suggest I find one?” he asked.

  “He’s got you there, Letty. I don’t think there are ten unmarried women in the territory that aren’t twice his age, Jack said.

  “Oh shush, Jack. I have an idea, but I need to think about it. You will be at church next Sunday, right.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.

  “I’ll be here,” he said. “Now I really do have to get back to the ranch. Thanks for the meal. I enjoyed it, even with the lecture.”

  He stood, shook Jack’s hand, and hugged Letty. “I’ll see you Sunday,” he said.

  chapter Four

  Letty Has A Plan

  The following Sunday, Case was at church as ordered. “I’ve given this a good bit of thought this past week.” Letty announced at dinner. “Another one of our members was looking for a wife, and as you said, there are virtually no single women in Helena, since so many of the people here came out in the gold rush after the war. When mining didn’t work, they turned to ranching or farming. Others moved on. Anyway, he put an ad in the paper for a wife.”

  “If there are no unmarried females in Helena, what good would that do?” Case asked.

  “It wasn’t a Helena paper. There’s a paper that only contains ads for men or women looking for mates. It’s published in Kansas City, Philadelphia, New York and Boston. If you see an ad describing someone you might be interested in, you write the editor of the paper and describe yourself and the number of the ad you liked. He sends your letter to the other person, and if they are interested, they answer the editor. The paper doesn’t give out your name or address until you say so. After you correspond with those interested, you can ask them to meet you. If they accept, the man usually pays for the woman’s travel. If they like each other, they usually marry. The paper says they have sponsored several hundred marriages.

  “What kind of woman would go halfway across the country to marry a man she had never met? That seems about the same as the fancy girls at the Last Chance. It sounds dangerous to me,” Case said.

  “A desperate woman would do it. Or a man wanting a family and having no other alternative. There is risk to it, I guess. This couple I’m talking about has been married—how long, Jack?”

  “I guess nearly two years now,” Jack said. “They have a little girl, and they seem happy. There are probably others in the territory, but I don’t know of any. I talked to them and borrowed an old copy of the paper. If you are interested, you could write and get an ad published. They’ll send you a copy of the paper. It used to cost a penny per word for the ad. It may still be the same.”

  “Thanks, Letty. That’s another star in your crown. I really appreciate what you’ve done.”

  “That’s what friends do; help each other in times of need. It’s up to you, now.”

  ‘I’ve never written a letter before. I don’t have any idea how to start.”

  “I’ll help if you like, but the words have to be yours. Most women can spot a fake a mile off.”

  Later that evening…

  Case read the paper, looking at the ads. Many of them hinted at the loneliness of the man or woman. Others were downright ludicrous, obviously from fortune hunters. I had no idea this sort of thing went on. I guess I’ve led a sheltered life.

  He decided to compose an ad, just for the heck of it. After several efforts, he came up with an ad that read:

  Twenty-five year old rancher in the Montana Territory would like to correspond with a lady of same approximate age with marriage a possibility. I am slender in build, honest and a hard worker.

  After services, he showed it to Letty. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t change a thing,” she said. “It’s forthright, and to the point. It doesn’t reveal too much, but it identifies your situation. Are you going to mail it?”

  “I might as well,” he said. It will only cost a dollar, and will be interesting to see what happens.”

  “Don’t get impatient,” she said. “Remember your letter has to get to Kansas City, and then put into the paper, which is published. Anyone interested will have to write to the paper, and then it has to be sent to you. You’re talking about a month at least for a return.”

  “I guess you’re right. Somehow, I thought it might be quicker.”

  “If we ever get the railroad in here, it will sure speed things up,” she said.

  “I’ll see you next week,” he said. He tipped his hat to Letty and headed home.

  As he rode along, he wondered, what would it be like having a woman in the house? I guess I’d have to move into Ma and Pa’s bedroom. I’d eat better, too. I wish I could find a woman like Letty. She is the kindest person I know. That evening, he reread the newspaper, this time concentrating on the ads placed by women. How do you pick which one to answer? He wondered to himself. He fell asleep in the chair, the newspaper in his lap.

  Two weeks later…

  It was a rare occasion. Case had mail. It was the first mail he had ever received. It was The Matrimonial Bulletin newspaper, but it was still mail.

  The newspaper was full of ads placed by those in search of a mate. The accompanying note informed his ad was number 920. Now the waiting began. Fortunately for him, it was roundup time and he was in the saddle for hours on end, rounding up his herd, chasing the strays and culling out the ones that would be going to the Army. He and his crew would have to drive the bulk of them to Fort CF Smith, and a small number to Helena. It had been a good year for the Lazy J. The cattle had survived the harsh winter, had fattened up, and were ready for market.

  After returning from the drive, the latest strays had to be rounded up, and some minor repairs had to be made on some of the outbuildings, in preparation for the coming winter. When he finally made it into Helena, he went by the general store to check his mail and found he had none. He gave Silas the list of supplies he needed and headed to the church to visit Jack and Letty.

  “Letty, our wandering cowboy has returned to the fold,” Jack called out when he saw Case.

  “Welcome, home,” he said, as they shook hands. How was the drive?” he asked.

  “Uneventful for the most part. It was dusty
, and we got hit by a couple of storms, and rained on for two days, but the herd behaved, and we got a good price. It was good, but I’m sure glad to be back home.”

  “Case,” Letty said as she hugged him. “It’s good to see you. We missed you in church, but I guess you were out having fun.”

  “Yeah, lots of fun, living with the smelly cattle,” he said.

  “Did you get any mail yet?” she asked.

  “I just got the paper, and my ad was in it. I guess it’s too early to expect answers. Maybe next week. I just wanted to stop by and say hello, I came in to pick up supplies. I guess they’re probably ready, so I’d best get back or Silas will think I changed my mind. See you Sunday,” he said.

  chapter Five

  Responses

  It was dark when Case rolled out of bed, and walked to the window. He pulled the curtain aside. It was a moonless light and it was difficult to make out any shapes.

  He groped around until he found the matches, and lit the oil lamp. He dressed quickly, then went into the kitchen where he pulled on his socks and boots. After he blew the lamp out, he went outside, relieved himself, and wandered to the bunkhouse where the cook had coffee ready.

  The first rays of light were peeking over the eastern horizon by the time he went into the bunkhouse. He poured himself a tin cup of the steaming hot coffee. He sipped his coffee and watched the cook busy at fixing breakfast for the ranch hands who were straggling in.

  “What’s on the schedule for today, boss,” one of the men asked.

  “I’d like to get a count and see where we stand,” he said. “If we are missing any, then round them up, and move the herd to the high pasture. There should be some good grass in by now.

  “I have to go into Helena and pick up a few things, but should be back before dark. If there is anything else that needs doing, Luke will tell you.”

  Finished eating, Case hitched his team to the wagon and headed for town. As usual, he stopped at the general store and gave Silas the list of supplies he needed.

  “I think I have some mail for you, ” he said. “You’re getting to be a popular feller.”

  “I don’t know about that. What do you have?”

  “Hold on, I’ll get it.” Silas returned and handed him three letters.

  “I see what you mean,” Case said. “I’ll be back in a little while. I’m gonna visit Jack and Letty.”

  He climbed on the wagon, and opened the first of the letters. A letter from the editor of The Matrimonial Bulletin, told him of a response to his ad, and the terms under which it was accepted and answered.

  Dear 920, I am a war widow, twenty-five years of age. I am five feet four inches tall and of proportional weight. I am told I’m attractive. I cook and sew. I also read and write. I have a son three years old. I have no prospects, save my widow’s pension. I would be interested in corresponding, with marriage a possibility. If you have an interest, please respond to number 727.

  “Interesting,” he said aloud. A couple passing by looked at him strangely. It was not a common thing to see a person talking when there was no one around. The attention embarrassed him, and he put the letters away and would read them later.

  “So, you get responses to your ad?” Letty asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “Yes, I have three, but I’ve only opened one. The one I opened was from a twenty-five year old war widow, with a three year old son. I don’t know if I’m ready to take on a three year old.”

  “You had a good role model, and I think you’d be a good parent.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Before I answer this one, I want to see the others. I’m not sure I’ll make it in again this week. We’ve got a lot of catch-up work from our drive to Fort CF Smith.”

  “I hope you can make it,” Jack said.

  Silas helped him load the supplies into the wagon, shook hands, and Case set out for the Lazy J.

  He was sitting in the living room, reading the second of the three letters.

  Dear Number 920,

  Your ad from the recent Matrimonial Bulletin piqued my interest. I am twenty-five years of age. I am tall and of slender build. I have dark hair and blue eyes. I have been told I have a comely appearance.

  I am the oldest of five girls. I have completed the second level of school, at the local women’s college, and have a love of reading. I am a good cook (If I do say so myself.) and I learned to sew of necessity. I haven’t lived on a ranch, but I have spent considerable time in Mama’s garden. I have no independent resources, but I have a position as a teacher in a local academy. I have a reputation for being a hard worker.

  I would like to correspond with you further, if my interests appeal to you. If so, please reply to number 976.

  “I favor this one over the first one. There’s just something about the way it sounds,” he said, talking to himself. “Lefty’s right. I need someone around to talk to, so I can quit talking to myself.”

  The third letter began, Dear Number 920, I found your ad in the Bulletin and I am interested in what you said. I am nineteen years old, five feet two inches and weigh 130 pounds. I have some schooling and can read and write. I think I have a sense of humor, and I like people. I am interested in corresponding with you further. I will make a good companion and do not wish to be encumbered with children. Please respond to 790. I eagerly await your response.

  “That one gets no attention from me,” he thought. “I may not want a three year old right from the start, but I would like to have a son someday.”

  He rummaged around in the desk where he kept the record of the ranch operations until he found some paper and a stub of a pencil. By the light of the oil lamp, he wet the tip of the pencil with his tongue as he thought about what he wanted to say. The words did not come easy, since he had received exactly one more letter than he had ever written.

  Dear Number 976.

  I am pleased to have received your letter, and I hope this finds you well of mind and body.

  I am twenty-five years of age and, while I don’t know my weight, I would estimate around 160 pounds. My hair is brown, as are my eyes. My mama ensured I could both read and write. It is a good thing, and has stood me in good stead as she and Papa were both killed in an Indian raid this past year. I was thrust into a situation I had not anticipated, and one for which I was ill prepared.

  I attend church regularly, another influence of my parents, both of whom were active in the church.

  A rancher’s life is difficult, involving long hours in the saddle. It is a lonely life too with few prospects for marriage. At church recently, there were less than ten unmarried ladies, and none my age.

  I would like to continue communications with you if you are of the same mind. I would be interested in life in your part of the country. We moved from Texas to Montana when I was a young lad, and I have not traveled beyond Montana since. Do you live in a town, or on a farm?

  I look forward to your letter.

  Sincerely, Number 920.

  chapter Six

  Exchanging Letters

  Carrie Robbins had placed an ad in The Matrimonial Bulletin and was assigned number 976, and had written to number 920, in care of the Matrimonial Bulletin.

  She had told no one about her ad. The Robbins family would have been scandalized to find their beautiful twenty-three year old daughter was advertising for a husband. They would admit she was approaching the unmarriageable age of twenty-five.

  “Honey, I’ve invited that nice Mr. Chalmers to dinner,” Bessie Robbins said to her daughter. “You remember him. He always sits behind us in church. I’ve seen him watching you. He has a nice farm just past the Benson place.”

  “Mama, why did you do that? He’s as old as Papa. And he smells. When it’s hot in the church, it almost makes me gag.”

  “Carrie Robbins! You stop talking like that. I’m ashamed of you. He’s a nice man, and since his wife passed, he and his son have lived alone.”

  “His son is the same age as Susan,”
Carrie said, referring to one of her sisters.

  “It’s time you were married, Carrie, and since the war took most of the men your age, you can’t be too particular. Mr. Chalmers will make a good husband, and provide you with a good home.”

  “Mama, I will not marry that… that pig farmer. I would rather be an old maid than marry him.”

  “That’s enough, young lady. You keep a civil tongue in your head. All of your sisters have beaus and you haven’t had one since Joshua went off to war.”

  “Mama, Joshua and I were betrothed. We would have been married if he hadn’t been killed at Gettysburg. It isn’t my fault he didn’t come back.”

  “That’s my point,” her mother said. “He didn’t come back, and you’ve not had anyone call on you since.”

  “I’m going to work, Mama, do you need anything from the general store, or the mercantile? I can pick it up on my way home.”

  “If they have received any new bolts of cloth, you might snip a sample, and if it looks nice, I’ll make you a nice dress to wear when our guests are here.”

  * * *

  It was a beautiful spring day in Oxford. Her students were restless, and they were paying little attention to their lessons. Carrie could empathize with them, because it was too nice a day to be cooped up in a stuffy classroom. Mercifully, the bell rang for dismissal ten seconds before she would have lost it.

  She stopped at the general store and asked for her mail, keeping her fingers crossed. It worked. There was a letter postmarked Kansas City. She gathered the few things her mother had asked her to pick up and hurried home.

  The letter was from Number 920, as she hoped. When she came to the part about his parents being killed, she put her hand to her mouth, and said, “Oh no. It sounds as if he was the one who found them. How horrible.