by Joyce Alec
Timothy hadn’t minded. His mother was often quite the complainer, and she would chase him around the house as if he were still just a boy, demanding that he do everything for her just as his father had.
He was twenty-two now, and his mother never missed an opportunity to tell him how disappointed she was that he hadn’t married yet. She wasn’t unkind, she was just the type of woman who liked to be in control.
It wasn’t his fault that there were no single women in the town, nor any within thirty miles. As soon as women came of age, they were either already spoken for, or they just wouldn’t suit him. Some women were too crude, some only seemed to want him for his money, and some didn’t have the strength in character that was needed to survive life on a ranch.
Not that he tried all that hard to meet anyone. He would drag his feet, unwilling to give up his freedom. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He enjoyed cooking his own meals, and he didn’t mind keeping up with the housework. He did the wash and ensured that Charlie was well groomed and loved.
Yes, his life was a simple one, and he worried that a woman would disrupt it. He wasn’t sure that he was ready for that big of a change.
He spent the morning in the barn, and when the farmhands appeared, he grabbed his favorite horse and went out into the pasture to herd some of the sheep with Charlie running along happily in front of him.
At the end of the day, he bid his farmhands farewell before he and Charlie returned to the quiet, empty house.
He trudged up the steps, a contented exhaustion passing over him, and saw a sealed envelope just outside the front door.
“What’s this?” he asked, stooping to pick it up.
Charlie barked and licked at the back of his hand.
When he flipped it over and saw the handwriting, he frowned.
He opened the door and stepped inside, slitting the letter open.
Timothy,
I must speak with you at your earliest convenience. It is very important.
Mother
Timothy let out a long sigh.
Short and to the point, he thought. She and Father were perfect for each other.
He folded the letter and sighed heavily.
Charlie stared up at him and whimpered.
“Oh, it’s just Mother, boy, nothing serious,” Timothy said. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”
He whipped up a quick meal for the two of them, giving Charlie the same food as he made himself, just like he always did. Charlie wagged his tail, as he gnawed on the hunks of meat that Timothy had laid down for him.
As he prepared for bed, Timothy really did not want to worry about his mother’s letter. However, he knew that he couldn’t ignore his mother’s request. If he didn’t go see her the next day, she would likely come to him.
He exhaled, and Charlie’s tail thumped against the bedspread, as they had both curled up in the bed for the night.
“Guess I’ll have to go see her. Don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
Charlie sighed heavily, too.
The next morning, Timothy followed through with his normal routine until the farmhands arrived. He left his most trusted man in charge and told him that he would likely be back before lunch.
“I have no intention of being gone any longer than that,” he said.
His farmhands understood and promised the ranch would be in good hands while he was gone. He knew it would be, but he still hated leaving all the same.
He gave Charlie a pat on the head. “Keep an eye on all those sheep, will you? Don’t let them put even a toe out of line.”
Charlie barked happily, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.
Timothy smiled as he scratched behind his ears. “I’ll be back soon, boy.”
He hopped on his horse and set off towards town.
It always filled him with anxiety the closer he got to town. He could see it in the valley, and there was a greater influx of people. People in carriages, people out walking, houses more common and closer together. He understood the idea of community. He just enjoyed taking part in it once a week when he attended church on Sunday mornings.
His aunt and uncle, and consequently, his mother, lived in a home in the very center of town. A rather large home, Timothy had spent a great deal of time as a child inside its stone and wood walls with his cousins, all of whom were grown and had families of their own.
He waved at a few people he knew as he passed them, never slowing his pace. He hoped that they understood it not as rudeness—but as an urgency to get to where he was going. Most people in town knew him to be a busy man, running a ranch almost entirely by himself. He didn’t mind if people thought that. It just meant they would leave him alone, and that was what he preferred.
He tied up his horse just outside his aunt and uncle’s home and crossed underneath the low-hanging branches of the elm trees, their shade pleasant. He knocked on the front door three times.
A man with cornflower-blond hair answered the door, and his blue eyes grew wide.
“Timothy!”
Timothy was equally surprised.
“Phillip! Fancy seeing you here.”
“Well, this is my parents’ home,” he said with a laugh, standing aside.
Timothy smiled. “Of course. But you have a wife and family, yes? And your own home?”
“Yes, well, something urgent has come up, apparently,” Phillip said, walking through the narrow foyer toward the living quarters near the back of the house. “They asked me to come here today.”
“That sounds like what happened to me,” Timothy replied. “Interesting. What do you think it means?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Phillip said. “I have been asking, but no one wanted to say anything.”
“Mother was likely waiting for me,” Timothy said.
“Perhaps,” Phillip said. “She’s been awfully quiet.”
That’s never a good sign, Timothy thought.
The house smelled of fresh rosemary and baking bread. Not having eaten since the early hours of the morning, Timothy’s stomach rumbled and his mouth watered.
They stepped into the dining room together, and Timothy saw his mother sitting at the table as if she were preparing for a meeting of some sort.
“Mother,” Timothy said hesitantly.
She looked up at him. “Timothy, I’m glad you decided to come.”
Timothy pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. “What’s this all about?”
“Good afternoon, Timothy,” came a much more pleasant voice than his mother’s. His Aunt Harriet was a pleasant-looking woman with curly red hair and rosy cheeks. She smiled at him as she stepped into the dining room with a basket of steaming rolls in her hands. “I hope you are hungry. You are just in time for lunch.”
Timothy inhaled. The rolls smelled divine. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, I think I will stay.”
Timothy’s mother simply stared at him across the table.
“Are you going to tell me what is going on?” Timothy asked her.
She frowned.
He sighed and rolled his eyes.
“You are still unmarried,” his mother said in a clipped tone. “Even after I have told you time and time again that your father told you that in order to inherit the farm, you needed to be married.”
Timothy glared at her. “Mother, we have been through this. Besides, I think this is something that we should discuss in private.”
Her gaze hardened as well.
“The reason that I called you here was to tell you that this is your last warning, Timothy.”
“What do you mean, Mother?”
“I am very serious, Timothy. Your father left very clear instructions. If you do not find yourself a wife and get married within six weeks, then I will be giving the farm to Phillip.”
Phillip, who had taken the seat beside Timothy, blanched.
“Aunt Carol…you can’t be serious?”
“I am perfectly serious!” she sna
pped. “My son would rather be a bachelor than fulfill his father’s wishes.”
“Mother, I really think that you are taking this too far—”
“I won’t hear any objections to it,” she said, turning her face away. “I have made up my mind. I have not yet turned over the ranch to you, so it is still in my name.”
“Mother—”
“Those are my stipulations, Timothy,” she said.
“So, you would just leave me with no home and take away the rightful inheritance of your only child?” Timothy spat.
“Why are you so resistant to marriage?” she asked.
“Why are you so resistant to listening to me?” Timothy replied. “I don’t understand why this is so important. I am perfectly capable of running that ranch entirely on my own! If anything, I have doubled the profits that Father ever made in the few short years since I have taken over—”
“Enough!” She slammed her hands onto the table, causing the basket of rolls to tip and spill onto the table. Rolls toppled over each other across the long surface, and a few bounced onto the floor.
“That is my ultimatum,” his mother said. “Either you get married in the next six weeks…or I will pass the ranch over to Phillip.”
“What if I just give it back to Timothy?” Phillip asked.
Timothy’s mother gave him a dangerous look. “You will be forbidden from doing anything of the sort. Why would you cast aside such a wonderful gift?”
“It’s as if you are assuming that I am going to refuse?” Timothy replied, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Well, of course,” she replied. “You have had years to marry and have yet to do so.”
“Mother, I love that ranch. It is everything to me.”
“Well? Then you know what you have to do.”
Timothy knew that this whole thing was ridiculous. He thought she was being vindictive and insensitive. She was doing whatever she could to get the last word and control him.
“How do you propose I find a wife?” Timothy said. “Last I heard, there weren’t any young women who were single in our town who were of age.”
His mother’s face split into a wide grin. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, dear. I have already found a match for you.”
His stomach dropped. “Really? And who might that be?”
“You won’t know who she is. She is from a town in the northern part of the state. I have been corresponding with her church. I asked them if they knew of any single women in need of a husband, and after writing to her, I think she is a good match for you. She is a very quiet woman, just like you. I assumed that you would be a good fit.”
Timothy ground his teeth, tightening his jaw. “You picked someone for me? Of course, you did. How thoughtful,” he said with disdain.
“She will be here the day after tomorrow,” his mother said, picking up the only roll that hadn’t tumbled out of the basket on the table and began pulling it apart. “I expect you to be here, ready to meet her and propose.”
“Mother, I am going to meet her and get to know her before I propose.”
She glared. “I thought you might say that. You better convince her to stay until you make up your mind.”
Timothy sighed heavily, shaking his head.
“All right. I will be here to meet her, but I am not promising anything.”
2
He had hoped that if he were to ever marry, it would be on his own terms. To have this thrust upon him, he felt as if he was being shown a great injustice. Why would his mother be so unkind as to try and take his inheritance from him, just because he hadn’t done what she wanted him to do? It was incredibly unfair.
Phillip had pulled him aside shortly after the conversation in the dining room, his face sad. “Timothy, I hope you know that I had nothing to do with that conversation. When she told you, that was the very first time that I had heard it as well.”
Timothy had not been surprised that she had done that to him, springing that sort of information on Phillip, forcing her ideals onto him. Timothy knew that his mother was very good at manipulating the feelings of others, because his father had been the master, and she had learned from him. Timothy had vowed to not use that ability on anyone else, certain that he would be able to, having seen it for his entire childhood.
“I understand,” Timothy had told Phillip. “But I hope you know that I have no intention of giving up the farm.”
“I never expected you to,” Phillip replied. “And I have no intention of taking it.”
Timothy sighed.
“Are you really going to go through with this?” Phillip asked.
“With meeting this woman?” Timothy replied. “Yes, I will. I will go along with what my mother has concocted until I figure out a way around it.”
“So, you aren’t intending to marry her?”
“Knowing my mother, the woman she has chosen will be who she would want me to marry, not necessarily who I would choose for myself.” He frowned. “I will give this woman a chance. Not to appease my mother, but to respect the fact that my mother has likely promised her a husband under false pretenses. She deserves to at least be given a chance.”
“That is very big of you,” Phillip replied.
“Don’t go thinking too highly of me yet,” Timothy replied. “I have done nothing noble or honorable.”
The day to meet the woman arrived and—begrudgingly—Timothy made his way back to his aunt and uncle’s home. He wished more than anything that he could turn around and go back to the ranch and pretend as if he had never had that conversation with his mother. However, he knew her better than that. She would bring the poor woman all the way to the ranch and introduce them there. Worst of all, she would follow through with her threat. She would drag him from the farmhouse by his ear if he refused.
He hated that his mother still bossed him around. He was a grown man, and he was doing a great job taking care of his father’s ranch. Why could she not have some grace and allow me to continue?
He hesitated at the front door, fearing what was going to happen when he crossed the threshold.
He knocked, and his mother was the one who answered the door.
“Oh, good! Timothy!” she cried happily. She smiled, but even as Timothy looked at her, he knew it was fake. It was likely for the benefit of the young woman.
She reached out across the threshold and yanked him into the house.
Timothy’s heart raced as his mother pulled him toward the sitting room near the front of the house. Even if he was not excited about it, even if he was angry that he was placed in this situation, he wondered what she might be like in those last few moments before meeting her.
There was a small chance, very small, that she could be exactly whom he wanted.
And that little bit of hope was enough to get him to step through the door instead of turning around and running away.
A young woman sat beside the fireplace. She had a mousy sort of face, dull hair pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head that reminded him far too much of a horse’s mane, and large, round eyes that were a dark shade of gray.
She turned to look at him when he entered, and immediately hid her face, her cheeks flushing red.
“Elizabeth? Here he is! My son! My one and only wonderful son.”
Timothy gave his mother a questioning look, and she promptly ignored it.
She dragged him further into the room and pushed him down into the chair across from her.
“Timothy, this is Elizabeth Myers. But she prefers Betty. Don’t you, dear?”
Elizabeth—or Betty—chanced a look at him…and immediately looked away.
It was as if he were some sort of terrifying monster from a children’s tale, the way she acted. He noticed that her fingers knotted in her lap were bone white and that her shoulders were stiff and straight.
“Hello, Betty,” Timothy said.
“Hello,” Betty replied in a very small voice, without looking at him.
Timothy tried his very best to not let the disappoint sink in too deeply. He had expected something like this.
And Betty? When Elizabeth was such a beautiful name?
“Well, I will just leave you two to get to know each other, shall I?” his mother said, patting him on the shoulder as if to remind him to stay put, and then she left the room.
The clock on the mantle of the fireplace was loud in a room as quiet as that one was.
“My apologies for my mother’s behavior,” Timothy began as soon as he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “She can be a bit…demanding.”
Betty chanced a look at him, her large grey eyes darting away again quickly.
“So…” Timothy began, hoping to stir her out of her timidity. “Betty. Why don’t you…tell me a little bit about yourself?”
She was as rigid as a tree trunk, unyielding and determined to stare into the fireplace instead of at him.
“You know, I can understand that you would be nervous,” Timothy said, disliking this more and more with every passing moment. “I am a stranger, after all. But take heart. This is just as strange for me as it is for you.”
Still no reply aside from a quick glance.
He sighed. “All right, well, how about I tell you about myself? That way you can see that you don’t need to be afraid of me.”
Timothy knew that most people would see that he was harmless, but this poor girl was scared out of her mind.
“Let’s see…” Timothy began. “Well, as I am sure that my mother explained, I am a rancher. I live just outside of town. I have about a dozen horses, about a hundred head of cattle at the moment, and several dozen sheep. I also keep pigs from time to time, and I have a whole henhouse full of chickens.”
He sat back in his chair and just kept going.
“I enjoy a quiet life. I don’t come into town much aside from when I need something. I much prefer the company of my dog—Charlie.”
Her eyes flickered over to him, and she stared at him with significantly more interest, more ease.
