by Joyce Alec
“You like dogs, then?”
She nodded her head.
He sighed. Well, that was good. At least they had one single thing in common.
“Betty, dear?”
Betty nearly jumped out of her seat with fright as Timothy’s mother’s voice filled the room.
“Y-yes?”
“Would you care to come help me in the kitchen?” his mother asked. “I know that you are having some quality time together, but how much more will he fall in love with you if you cook for him?”
Timothy turned and glared at his mother. She ignored it.
Betty quickly got up from her chair and crossed the room, following his mother from it.
Timothy pinched the bridge of his nose. Just when I was making progress with the girl, he thought.
He rose from his seat and followed the women toward the kitchen.
He could smell distinct pungent onions in a pan, sizzling away. He could also smell fresh sage and thyme.
A loaf of fresh bread was on the table, still warm.
“No, no. You stay out there.”
“Mother, you ask me to come here so that I may meet her, and then you steal her away to help you?”
His mother gave him a nasty look. “Hush. She is going to impress you with her skills in the kitchen. That ought to convince you.”
There was a loud crash as one of the iron skillets struck the floor.
“I’m sorry,” came Betty’s sheepish voice.
“Not a problem dear, not a problem,” his mother cooed, as she returned to the kitchen.
Timothy pulled a hunk of bread off the loaf and sat down at the table. Perhaps he would be able to catch a snippet of anything his mother might say to Betty and be able to correct her before things got too out of hand.
He pushed the bread into his mouth and listened.
At first, things seemed to be going well. Everything smelled good, and they seemed to be having a relatively pleasant conversation. He learned that she was the youngest in her family, the only daughter among five sons. She had never left her town and often was so ill that she could never leave the house.
Timothy supposed that explained her timidity.
But soon after, the smells from the kitchen started to change. First, it smelled as if something was burning.
“I’m sorry,” came Betty’s voice again.
“Not a problem, dear, we can always grab another bundle of herbs.”
Those were herbs? Timothy sighed.
But it got worse from there. She proceeded to spill the soup all over the floor, char yet another bundle fresh herbs, and accidentally used sugar instead of salt in one of the recipes.
“I am sure that we will be able to find something to eat,” his mother said, but he could hear the strain in her words.
He stood from the table. So…she is so shy that she cannot speak to me. She is a mousy sort of woman. And…she cannot cook.
So much for impressing me like Mother had hoped.
“Mother?” Timothy called. “Perhaps I should go into town and purchase another roast? I am sure that Mr. Carlisle will still have some available for the day.”
“That…would be wise,” she said.
He was amazed that she had agreed with him, so he didn’t waste any time. Timothy rose quickly and headed for the door.
The fresh air was reviving. That house had been too close to a jail cell for him.
Betty was…a different sort of woman. Certainly not what he would have picked for himself. He didn’t understand what his mother saw in her.
Was she trying to punish me? To put me in my place?
It is true that she seems like a sweet woman, but will I ever see that for myself? Or will it always be through the eyes of my mother?
He thought that he was quiet and reserved, but he seemed like the most sociable man in the world compared to her.
He reached the general store in quick time, resolving to remain there for as long as he could, using the excuse that he needed to clear his mind.
He wasn’t sure that he would be able to face her again. He also wasn’t sure that he would be able to stomach her cooking once, let alone for the rest of his life.
It was possible, of course, that she wasn’t always terrible at cooking. She could have simply been so nervous that she could have been incapable of producing anything worthwhile.
He sighed.
“Timothy, I am surprised to see you,” Mr. Carlisle said. “It’s only Thursday.”
“I know,” Timothy replied. “Do you have any roasts left, by any chance?”
Mr. Carlisle’s brow furrowed. “You need meat? I don’t think that you have ever purchased meat from me before. It’s always me purchasing it from you.”
“I see the irony,” Timothy said. He gave Mr. Carlisle a very short version of the story.
“Oh, dear,” Mr. Carlisle said.
Timothy was surprised that he had shared his distress so openly. Normally, he would never have divulged that sort of personal information, but he felt so lost and so confused that he didn’t know what to do.
“So you will lose the ranch if you don’t marry someone in six weeks?”
“That’s her threat,” Timothy replied.
“Wow. Your mother never struck me as the sort of woman to be so harsh.”
Timothy decided to hold his tongue.
He wrapped up the roast and handed the package across the wooden counter to him.
“You are truly not excited about this woman, are you?”
Timothy sighed. “I do not know her well enough to make that assessment.”
Mr. Carlisle gave him a steadying look. “May I give you some unsolicited advice?”
“Of course,” Timothy replied.
“If you are going into a marriage that already seems difficult, then I urge you to perhaps seek someone out for yourself. If your mother is the one attempting to force the marriage upon you, it will never be your choice.”
Timothy sighed heavily. “I agree, but where am I going to find anybody myself?”
Mr. Carlisle pointed to a stack of folded newspapers beside the door.
“What do you mean?”
“There should be a newspaper there called Matrimonial News.”
“Matrimonial News?” Timothy asked. He looked at the paper. He trusted Mr. Carlisle, a man who he had been doing business with since he had taken over his father’s ranch. “All right. I will take a look at it.”
He thanked Mr. Carlisle for his help and for his advice and stooped to pick up a paper on his way out of the door.
He avoided looking at the paper until he was away from the store. He knew it would not be suspicious for him to read a paper as soon as he purchased it, but if anyone were to see him looking at the Matrimonial News…
He flipped open the paper, tucking the roast underneath his arm.
The newspaper was filled with small advertisements and even some pictures of people.
“These are people…”—Timothy said slowly—“…who are looking for a spouse.”
3
He returned to his aunt and uncle’s home shortly after, attempting to smother the feeling of excitement. Perhaps there was a way out of this yet.
His mother was obviously distressed when he walked inside. He didn’t bother asking why. He honestly didn’t care very much. He passed her the roast, to which she said nothing of thanks, and then she moved into the kitchen to get it cooking.
She shooed Betty back into the dining room, so she could sit with Timothy some more, much to Timothy’s dismay. Just as he expected, she said hardly anything to him as they sat there. Eventually, he was able to get her to nod or shake her head in reply, but she ultimately refused to actually speak.
It was less than an hour after his return that he feigned a grueling stomachache. His mother demanded that he stay, but he told her that he would rather give himself the chance to rest and come back and spend some more time with Betty in a few days when he was well again.
>
“She is here to see you, Timothy. She will not stay if she does not feel that you will propose,” his mother said sharply, her hands covered in flour.
“Then I will do my very best to come back as soon as I am well.” He looked at Betty, who appeared as if she would rather the floor would swallow her whole than sit there beneath his gaze any longer.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Betty,” he said before departing.
His mother glared at him, but he was doing what she wanted, right? He had visited his aunt’s house to meet the girl. How could she truly be upset about that?
Betty simply nodded in reply.
He didn’t have great faith in continuing their conversation. What would they have to continue to speak about? He had learned very little about her, and she didn’t seem all that interested in getting to know him whatsoever.
Can’t my mother see that we are clearly wrong for each other?
He hopped back on his horse and returned to the ranch, grateful more than ever that he lived by himself. He couldn’t imagine coming home to a woman like Betty, one who was either terrified of him, or so shy that she was rendered speechless.
It was ridiculous match. What was his mother thinking?
Charlie barked madly at the door as he stepped inside, ready to play. Timothy knelt down and rubbed his ears, allowing him to lick his face. He laughed, already feeling more at peace since his arrival.
He still had his newspaper, and he was eager to read through it. He wondered how often the advertisements were updated, or how many women posted in it. Perhaps he would consider adding an advertisement. Even if he had no intention of getting married, maybe his mother would reconsider if he was making it appear as if he were trying.
He sighed heavily, as he sunk down onto his sofa, one of the nicest pieces of furniture that he owned.
If he had known about the Matrimonial News sooner, he could have likely discovered the perfect woman without all of the consternation from his mother, and he wouldn’t be in the situation that he was in.
It is better for Betty this way, he thought. Spare her the dread of seeing me ever again.
She could go home to her family and find some nice young man in her own town to marry her. Someone she already knew would likely be best.
Charlie stared at him expectantly, and yet still patiently, from right in front of Timothy.
“Are you hungry, boy?” Timothy asked.
Charlie barked, and as he panted, his tongue hung out of the side of his mouth.
Timothy laughed.
He remembered that Betty had liked the idea of a dog. He supposed that she wasn’t all that bad.
He got up and crossed into the kitchen, chuckling to himself. He really was very hungry. He could have eaten hours ago if it were not for Betty’s blunder back at his aunt and uncle’s home.
He pitied the poor girl. He had no idea why she was so timid—so much so that she had dropped things and ruined food.
“I don’t think I would be happy to have her in our kitchen, boy,” Timothy replied.
Still, her history was interesting. And she certainly was nice enough. Timidity was better than being melancholy, or acting with aggression, or portraying herself as a loose woman.
He whipped up a warm, hearty stew, giving the scraps of the meat to Charlie, who happily scarfed them down. They shared a loaf of bread, and Timothy flipped slices of carrot into the air, watching Charlie catch them as he jumped.
Finally, with a large, steaming bowl of stew and a large pint of ale, he sat down at the table and opened the paper, Charlie gnawing on one of the ham hocks by his feet.
He slurped some of the broth as he scanned the pages.
With so many advertisements, he wondered whom he would write to first.
What do I truly want in a wife? he wondered.
Some were more detailed about what they were looking for in a spouse. Some women didn’t wish to leave the state where they lived. Some men were looking for women with particular skills, such as being an adept seamstress, or someone who was familiar with raising horses. Others claimed that they wanted someone young, so they could prepare for a big family.
He even saw one who was looking for a man who had a certain amount of wealth, as none of the men that she had met personally were making enough for her taste.
That ad will go unanswered, he thought.
He scanned through the women who were more open in their desires.
He lingered for a moment on one who said she was nineteen and her parents were hoping to have her married within the year. She claimed she was friendly, intelligent, and loved to read.
The only problem was that she wanted a man to come to her.
That is out of the question, he thought.
He found another one who said she was twenty-three and had not been married due to caring for her sick mother. Her mother recently passed away, and she was ready to move on with her life.
“This is a good prospect,” Timothy said aloud.
He was genuinely surprised that he found any women that interested him. Timothy had been convinced that he would dismiss them all, but the fact that he was seriously considering contacting even one of the women showed him how serious he was about keeping the farm.
He patted Charlie on the head, as the dog rested its head on Timothy’s knee.
“Maybe it would be nice to have a woman around the ranch,” he admitted. “Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought it might be.”
He continued to read one advertisement that was quite lengthy.
“She seems to have a lot of requirements for her husband,” Timothy said a little less enthusiastically. “Such as, ‘Regular social outings are required.’”
Charlie looked up at Timothy with contemplative eyes.
“She also writes, ‘I do not enjoy horses or gardening.’”
He sighed.
“Well, I suppose she is off the list.”
He was starting to lose hope when his eyes fell upon the very last advertisement.
“Woman, twenty-one, seeking husband. Desires a hard worker, a strong spirit, and a comfortable place to call home. Willing to relocate. Would prefer a more rural location. Will send a photo upon request.”
Timothy looked down at Charlie, whose tail began wagging as he lifted up his head.
“What do you think, Charlie? It’s not very much information to go on. Hard worker? Well, I suppose I am a rather hard worker. Strong spirit? What do you suppose she means by that? It is good that she would prefer a more rural location.”
He grinned at Charlie.
“I think she might be just the ticket we’re looking for.”
He felt guilty about Betty, but it wasn’t her fault that things didn’t work out between them. Well…it really was her fault, but Timothy was a big enough man to admit that something about him could have easily put her off.
He cleaned up from dinner and moved to the living area. He sat down at his desk and rummaged around to find a clean piece of paper, his pen, and some ink.
Dear… He checked the newspaper.
Dear Anna,
My name is Timothy Williams, and I recently read your advertisement in Matrimonial News. I believe we would be a good match for one another. I am a rancher in northeast Texas, and I live outside of a town called Riverside. It is a very rural area, and life on the ranch is quiet and slow.
He went on to tell her about his cattle, and the other animals he owned. He told her about Charlie, and about what a typical day looked like for him. He told her about the house, and about his personal habits, and how he enjoyed time alone, but would enjoy some company.
I would be very interested in learning more about you.
I look forward to your reply.
Sincerely,
Timothy Williams
He finished signing and read the letter over once more to Charlie, the ever-diligent listener. He sealed it and left it beside the door, before heading to bed and feeling far more positive abo
ut the entire situation than he had since his mother had first told him about her marriage plans for him.
A fortnight after he mailed his letter, he received a reply.
Timothy was ecstatic.
To his even greater surprise, it was from Betty.
Dear Timothy,
I wanted to apologize, first and foremost, for my behavior on the day that we met. I realize that I must have seemed so strange to you. I am sure that you were able to see, but I was very nervous. So nervous that I found I could not speak around you. Even if I was embarrassingly unable to overcome my own shyness, you showed me kindness.
Her letters are far different from the girl I met, Timothy thought, shocked.
Charlie sat by his feet on the porch; they hadn’t even made it all the way inside.
I hoped that I would be able to reach you by letter. I know that Timber City is quite far, and that you are incredibly busy on your ranch. Until we are able to meet again, I would very much like to continue corresponding through letters. This way, when we meet next, it shall be much easier to talk to you.
I simply was overcome with fear about the entire matter, and it certainly got the better of me. I have never been so atrocious in the kitchen. I have been trying to learn, and by trying to be perfect, I ended up making a fool of myself.
“You didn’t make a fool of yourself…” Timothy mumbled.
Charlie’s tail thumped against the wooden porch.
I do hope that you will reply to my letter. I think that I could be a very good wife for you. Your mother says that you are very quiet by nature. I am, as well…though I certainly didn’t portray the best side of that when we met, did I?
He sighed.
He had been wrong about her, it seemed. She had been timid, but she was aware of it. She was attempting to make amends. Her candidness made him feel as if he didn’t give himself as much opportunity to get know her as she deserved.
“Oh, Charlie, boy. What am I to do?”
It didn’t make any sense to ignore her, not when she had gone far out of her way to be so kind.
What was the harm in replying to her? He would look like the fool if he refused to respond to her.
Besides, if his mother asked him about what happened, he could show her proof of the letters they had been sending back and forth to one another.
