by Joyce Alec
But how? What must she do to accomplish such a feat? Were such things even possible?
The way her life was then, no, it was not possible. She would meet too much resistance, too much caterwauling from those around her. She must allow someone outside to help her. Someone who would happily take her from where she was to a place where she could be happy and find her own stories.
Perhaps…even her own story of love.
Her cheeks colored as she looked around the room. She had never loved a man, and she was certain a man had never loved her. But there certainly must have been a man somewhere in that great, wide world who could love her.
How was she to find such a man?
Her eyes fell onto a story titled The Bride of Edinburgh. A woman who lived in London moved to Edinburg to be with the man who she had been betrothed to marry. But she had only corresponded with him through letters during their entire relationship. It was not until the day they were to marry that they met.
It was one of her favorites. She found it terribly romantic. People who grew to love one another by the words they wrote to one another, pouring their hearts out onto the page.
She froze where she stood, her hands just grasping the spine of the book when she realized what she could do.
Frantically, she ran out to the hall, calling for a servant to assist her. A maid appeared almost at once, apparently concerned with the fever with which Rose was speaking. She urged the maid to find her the newspaper, insisted that they bring it to her immediately. The maid nodded and departed, likely pleased to be rid of her.
She returned to her room, and the maid appeared not ten minutes later. She thanked her, and then closed herself in once more.
Tearing through the pages, she found what she was looking for.
An entire page was dedicated to men and women who were searching for a spouse, with small advertisements with nothing more than a few words about themselves and the people they were searching for.
They were from all over the country, and all different ages. Each with a story of their own, a history, a dream.
“Perfect…” she murmured, and then she set right to work.
She wrote a few different versions of what she wanted to say down before she was pleased. She wanted the most accurate representation of herself, as clear and concise as possible. Whoever the man was that chose her would know her before he ever spoke to her. She wanted it that way. It was to be her story after all, not some fictional woman’s.
She submitted her own advertisement before the week was out, and spent the next few weeks checking the paper every day. Whenever she saw her own small square, she would beam, knowing that somewhere, somehow, her future husband would be reading it any day now.
It was early June when a letter appeared for her, the first letter she had received from anyone in months.
Eagerly, she took it to her room to read in privacy. Her fingers trembled, her heart raced. What would it say? Who would it be from?
With a knot in her chest, she broke the seal, and opened the letter.
Dear Miss Samson,
I was pleased to read your advertisement this week. I was sent the newspaper from a distant relative who lives out east. I am a young man, twenty-six, living in Colorado on my ranch. I have been looking for the right woman to call my wife for some time, but as this is such a new town, there haven’t been many options, unless I wanted to marry someone twice my age, or far too closely related to me.
She laughed.
My name is Travis. I am a simple man with simple wants. I would love a woman who is kind-hearted, someone who is gentle and understanding. I come home mighty tired some evenings, and nothing would please me more than having a wife to come home to and share a meal with. I greatly enjoy reading, and would love a wife who loves the same. Otherwise, she might not appreciate the rather large collection of books I have.
Her heart fluttered. He was a reader, too? He was becoming more and more perfect every second!
I also enjoy traveling. While it’s tough to with the ranch, I love to explore the areas around my new home here. The mountains are vast, and there is plenty to explore. Who knows? Maybe we would stumble upon a gold mine!
He wrote like a story teller. She was fascinated. How was it possible that such a man actually existed? It seemed almost too good to be true!
I will be very plain and say that Miss Rose, if you are still looking for a husband, and these things about me seem agreeable to you, I’d be more than pleased to take you as my wife. No sense in beating around the bush. I will wait for your next reply.
Sincerely,
Travis Ross
She sighed happily as she came to the end.
How could she not accept? God Himself must have made this man with Rose in mind. She could not have created a better man in her own mind. She could not have hoped for as much. And yet…here it was, staring at her in the face. She had not said a thing about her own interests in her advertisement. And yet, there were a list of his, entirely without her prompting, and all aligned with her own.
Without another moment wasted, she dashed to her desk to write a response. She had intended it to be short, to the point, so she could get it sent back to him as quickly as possible. But she ended up divulging a great deal about herself in it, telling him how very excited she was to be meeting a man with the very same interests that she had. She even asked if it was all right if she brought some of her own great collections when she moved to Colorado. She wrote down a list of some of her favorite titles, excited and eager to hear more about him.
For the next month, she and Travis wrote back and forth to each other often. Almost every day. She planned to move out there just before the leaves began to change, which she knew would make it difficult for her to travel out west. They both seemed to want her to be out in Colorado as soon as she possibly could be.
Her family was unperturbed about her choice. They all had thought she would end up a spinster, so the idea of her getting married and out of the house seemed to please them. She would no longer be a burden to them. It was pleasing to her as well, knowing she would soon be rid of that wretched place.
She packed up a great deal of her books as her greatest and most valuable possessions to take with her. She knew she could always buy more clothing, but her books were irreplaceable. She knew she could not take them all, however, and left some of her duplicates and more tired tomes that wouldn’t make the trip with her cousin’s children. She knew they would be put to good use one day.
Then it was August, and her day of departure was upon her. Colorado called to her, and she answered it whole heartedly. She was to meet the man who was to be her husband. A man who she was quickly becoming fond of already. A man who would help her to write her very own life story, one filled with adventure and romance.
As she stepped onto the train, her heart overflowing with joy, she felt for the first time in her entire life that she was glad she was living it.
2
Rose was aboard the train to Colorado for nearly two weeks. In that time, she saw all manner of weather; rain, sunshine, great windstorms that shook the whole carriage. But it mattered not. She was on her way, the start of her very own adventure.
She also met all manner of people. A woman from London traveling to California. A man with six daughters who had been serving in the military. An elderly couple who were celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary. She was full to bursting with anticipation of what was to come for her. And she would tell anyone who would listen.
The last letter she had received from Travis told her that she was to take a carriage to Moss Lake, which was where he was living. There she should make her way to the saloon, ask for Charlie, and he would point her in the direction of his sister, Dorothy’s house. From there, she would be able to take her to see him. He said that he had been waiting so long for her to arrive, and that he knew he was going to be overjoyed when they finally met.
She knew that they both would be.
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br /> Obediently following his directions, she found her way to Moss Lake, and what a lovely town it was.
The main road ran right down to a great lake, the bottom of the valley between two large mountains. The town itself stood elevated above the lake, but it’s shimmering waters and cool breeze could be felt even from where she stood staring at it, easily miles away. There were ample trees, plenty of blue sky, and a newness to everything around her that she felt as if she had stepped right into a book.
There were only a few buildings in the middle of town. A large church, recently constructed of both stone and wood, stood proudly at the center. A few small homes were tucked into the trees around. A large, log building with the sign General Store above the door stood further down the road, and beside that, the inn with the saloon on the bottom floor.
She could hear the rustle of the leaves in the trees, and the cries of the birds as they flew overhead.
Charlie was a kind man, with a large, long moustache and grey eyes. He told Rose that Dorothy and her husband George lived in the very last home on the street, before it began its descent down toward the lake, where others had also built their homes. According to Charlie, they had the very best view of all the homes in town.
Her heart was in her throat as she wandered down the street toward Dorothy’s house. What was she going to say? She hoped that Dorothy was expecting her. She hoped that this wasn’t all some great farce.
She froze. What if that was all it was? A farce? What if some foolish man had led her on this wild goose chase just to…
To what? Everything he had said had been right so far, hadn’t it? All the instructions he had told her had been genuine, even the part about Charlie. And Charlie knew exactly who Rose had been speaking of. Surely this was all real…wasn’t it?
She squared her shoulders. Well. She certainly wasn’t going to find out just standing out there, wondering about it all.
She reached the home that Charlie had instructed her to, and stared up at it. A lovely rose garden was planted out in front, and the pathway had been filled with wildflowers. A low fence surrounded the yard, and she assumed it was to prevent pests from eating the flowers. She could see the lake very well, like a large, blue sapphire, glittering in the sunlight.
Their home was made from stones and planks, with large windows and a rather handsome front door, wrought with iron.
She lifted the cool knocker in her sweating hand, and knocked three times.
It wasn’t long before the door was pulled open, and a lovely woman with dark eyes and pale, cornflower hair was there.
Her eyes grew wide as she stared up at Rose, who was nearly a head taller than she was.
“Oh, my heavens!” Dorothy squealed excitedly, clapping her hands to either side of her face. “You must be Miss Rose Samson!”
Rose smiled, her cheeks turning pink. “I am, yes. Are you Miss Dorothy Ross?”
“Dorothy Simmons, but I used to be a Ross, yes!” she said. She was nearly dancing on her toes. “Come in, come in, please! We are so excited you are here!”
“Thank you,” Rose said, and with Dorothy’s help, she pulled and tugged her trunk and bags inside.
“My, you are quite the beauty,” Dorothy said as she led Rose in through to a comfortable sitting room that had a large window overlooking the lake. “Your letters didn’t do you justice!”
“My letters?” Rose asked, a flush of embarrassment making her face burn even more.
Dorothy’s face paled for a moment. “Oh, it’s…well, never mind all that. Come, let me show you to the room where you will be staying!”
Their home was beautiful. Dorothy seemed to have an eye for pleasing decorations, and Rose was surprised to see a number of paintings on the walls.
“Did you paint these?” Rose asked, lingering in front of a painting of the sun setting over a wide lake, presumably the one just out the windows.
Dorothy wandered back to where she stood. “I did, yes. I find painting brings me great peace, and allows me to see the world as it really is.”
“You seem to have a great love of red,” Rose continued, staring around. “There are a great many things in your home that are that color.”
“Red is invigorating. It reminds me of happiness, of love. Did you see the rose bushes outside? I painstakingly tend to those, and the petals I use for dye and paints. See? Beauty in all things.”
“That is spectacular,” Rose said.
“Not as amazing as the fact that your name is Rose,” Dorothy said with a hearty wink. “It was as if you were made to be a part of this family!”
Rose smiled. It was more love than she had received in a very long time, and from someone she just met.
“Here is your room,” Dorothy said, standing just inside the door at the end of the hall.
Rose stepped inside and was stunned by the view of the lake through the windows. No tree obscured its sparkling vista. It almost as though it were right outside.
“Now, I know you said that you were bringing a great many books, but this doesn’t seem like all that many,” Dorothy said when she helped situate Rose’s luggage. “I assumed you meant to bring…well, as many as my brother has.”
Rose smiled. “I wanted to, but it just didn’t seem all that wise. There was no way I could have brought more than one small trunk full out here, and I knew that some in my family would be happy with them, too.”
She looked over at Dorothy. “Your brother seemed to tell you a great deal about our correspondences, didn’t he?” It wasn’t as if it bothered her, but she was glad that she hadn’t written anything far too personal, especially knowing now that it was read by his family.
Dorothy dropped her gaze and smiled nervously. “I…well, all right, Rose. I must tell you something. You are far too gentle of a spirit for me to keep this from you any longer.”
“What?” Rose asked, a painful burning in her chest. Why did it suddenly feel as if everything she had been hoping for, everything she had come all this way for…was about to be pulled away?
Dorothy took Rose’s hand in her own, and the two sat down on the bench in front of the bed together.
“There…is no easy way to say this, so I might as well just say it.”
She looked up into Rose’s face with a determination, mingled with fear.
“I was the one writing to you.”
Rose blanched. Surely, she had not heard the woman correctly. Slowly, she withdrew her hand from Dorothy’s.
“You…what?”
“I was pretending to be Travis,” Dorothy said. “But I promise you! I have a very good explanation for it!”
Rose got to her feet, her stomach dropping, her heart beat in her ears.
“Does Travis even know?” she asked with great anxiety.
“Well, no, but—”
Rose held her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real.
“I promise you, Rose. I had only the very best intentions.”
Slowly, Rose turned around to stare at the woman still seated on the bench. She seemed very non-threatening, sitting there with her hands knitted in her apron, her eyes wide and sad.
“I moved across the country for a promise that was…nothing more than a lie?” Rose asked, wincing as if the words themselves were hurting her. “My whole life…everything…to marry a man that doesn’t even know about me?”
Dorothy had stood as well, holding her hands out in sympathy. “I understand why you are upset. I truly do. But if you would give me a chance to explain…I reached out to you because it is something that Travis would not do, but I believe that you would make him very happy, just as I believe he will make you happy.”
Rose pursed her lips.
“My brother is just as I wrote about him. Who could know him better than his own sister? And you liked him…right?”
Rose’s cheeks burned once more. She had liked him, a great deal. But it was his sister, not him! She had started fall for a man who was unaware of her.
It was like loving a character out of a story…
“I thought so,” Dorothy said, beaming. “And I know, know, he will love you. You are precisely the sort of woman he needs. Someone who is intelligent, adventurous, well read. And not to mention beautiful. He’s a tall man, so you will be a good fit for him.”
Rose chewed the inside of her lip. “It’s just…well, you must understand. I came out here on the pretenses that I was speaking with him, not with you.”
“I understand that, but I did not lie to you about his character. I wrote to you in the very same way he writes, with the very same words if he were to respond to an ad like that.”
“How can you be so sure that he would even accept me? The idea of me?” Rose asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Although she seethed with anger, she was determined not to let it show.
“Trust me, he will be thrilled. He has been complaining that he might never find a wife. So, I decided to do it for him.” She grinned. “And who better to find a proper wife than a woman who already is one?”
Rose huffed, expelling air through her nose in distaste.
“Rose…my brother is a wonderful man, living all alone on his great, big ranch. He needs a companion, a friend, a wife for him to keep him company. To keep him sane. And the more I corresponded with you, the more I knew you were the right fit for him. And I know he will be a great husband. He’s caring, compassionate, sensitive. If we lived in a more populated area, he would have been married as soon as he was old enough. A hidden gem, if you will.”
Rose tried to swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat.
“If you both agree, after some time together, that it just is not going to work, and my deception was for naught, then I will pay your fare home. But I ask that you give each other a chance.”
Rose turned to stare out of the window at the lake. She wasn’t crazy about the idea that Travis didn’t even know she existed, and that this would all be a surprise to him. But there was Dorothy, attempting to be the kind, caring sister to find a good wife for her brother. She may not have any siblings, but she knew enough to know they would go to great lengths to help one another.
