“I see why you thought this one would work,” Mary said softly, reading the letter over again. “I know I’ll never love again, either, so it seems as though we’re meant for one another, doesn’t it?” She sighed. “I’ll respond, but don’t get your hopes up.”
She picked up a pen, inkpot, and paper from Elizabeth’s desk and sat down to get to work. She thought about her words carefully before writing them down. She had to make it clear she wanted children, but not love. He needed to be as knowledgeable about what to expect as he’d been clear with her.
Dear Mr. Jones,
I believe I would be suited for your wife. I’m twenty-one years old, and I will never love again. I have worked as a cook for a living for a good portion of the past five years, and I currently work as a nanny and secretary. I am an excellent cook, and a good housekeeper. I work hard, and would be willing to work beside you.
I know deep in my heart that I want to have children, but I’m not willing to even consider falling in love. That’s why I believe we would suit one another well. If you are willing to consider me, I’m willing to travel to South Dakota as your mail order bride.
Thank you for your time.
Marylin Brown
Elizabeth read over the letter and nodded. “I think that’s perfect. You’re forthright, and he won’t expect more than you can give him. Would you be willing to post it today?”
“Of course.” Some days Mary walked to the post office, and others it was Elizabeth. Lately, it was always Mary, unless Bernard was accompanying her employer. Her life had been in danger for quite some time, due to some work she had done to help women escape from slavery.
Mary stared down at the letter in her hand, a sad look on her face. By writing the letter to an unknown man agreeing to marry him, she was shutting the final door on the life she’d thought she’d lead. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. The first she’d ever been able to cry for her William.
When the return letter arrived less than a month later—my, how quickly mail was carried in these modern times—Mary turned it over and over in her hands. She didn’t know if she wanted him to want her to come or not.
Finally, she slit the letter open and read the contents. Elizabeth sat at her desk, watching Mary’s face closely. The baby was sleeping contentedly in his cradle off to one side of the room.
Dear Marilyn,
You sound like the bride I am looking for. I’ve enclosed a check for Mrs. Tandy’s services, and some spending money for your trip. Your train will leave on Wednesday May 13th at ten in the morning. I will be at the station when you arrive. I’m tall, have dark hair, and a full beard.
Yours,
Bill
Mary read the letter once more, before walking over and placing the check on Elizabeth’s desk. “My ticket is for tomorrow’s train at ten in the morning.”
“Well that doesn’t give us much time, does it?”
Mary shrugged. “I’ve made myself a couple of new dresses in the evenings, knowing this could come at any moment. I know the mail order bride business almost as well as you do at this point.”
Elizabeth looked at her friend, someone who had been a huge part of her life for the past five years, and felt a tear trickle down her cheek. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. So much.”
“Are you going to tell your father where you’re going?”
Mary had long since confided her full story to Elizabeth, and at her friend’s urging, had mended fences with him. She hadn’t been willing to move back to his home, though. No, she would continue to live independently of him. Since she’d left, he’d remarried, which she felt was good for him. He’d been a good father to her, and she’d visited him a couple of times. It had always seemed terribly formal to her, though. William’s death would always be a wall between them.
“I think I will. I’ll write him a letter. He’s busy with his new family.” Mary had more contact with Mrs. Johnson than she did with her father. She exchanged letters with the housekeeper at least once a month, so she’d be certain to write her as well.
Elizabeth frowned. “I think it would be good for you to go see him.”
Mary shrugged. “There’s no time. I have to get my room packed up. Do you have any idea how much has accumulated in that small room in five years?”
“I’m going to accompany you to the train station.”
“Who’s going to watch Benjamin?”
“We’ll push him in his buggy. It won’t hurt anything, and Bernard will walk with us. I refuse to say goodbye to my best friend until the very last moment.”
Mary rushed across the room and hugged Elizabeth tightly. “I can love again, you know. It’s not the same, of course, but you’ve shown me there are different kinds of love. And I love you very much, Lizard Breath.”
Elizabeth laughed as she brushed away the tears. Mary often teased her about the name her siblings, known as the demon horde, had given her years before. “I love you too, Mary. You’ll write me, won’t you?”
“You know I will. As soon as I arrive in this Butterfly Meadows place, and then at least monthly. I doubt there will be news to share weekly.”
“You never know.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’m happy you’re going to get married and start a family. You need to be a mother.”
Mary smiled. “I do. I didn’t realize just how much I wanted children of my own until I spent some time with Benjamin. Now it’s all I can think about.”
“Then it’s time.” Elizabeth picked up the baby and walked through the house. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” Mary asked, confused.
“We’re going to go pack up your room.”
“But why? It’ll only take me an hour or two.”
“Because I’m spending as much time with my friend as I can before she gets on a train to South Dakota tomorrow. You realize we’ll never see each other again!”
Mary shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I think people will find a way to fly like birds soon, don’t you?”
Elizabeth shuddered. “As long as you don’t ask me to fly, we’re good.”
Elizabeth and Mary set out for the train station at just past eight the following morning. The walk would only take fifteen minutes, but they declared it was too fine a day to sit around at home, watching the clock tick. Mary knew she’d be getting little chance to walk for the next nine days, and she wanted to stretch her legs before it was time to sit cramped on the train.
Bernard walked behind them, his eyes constantly moving as he watched for any danger that could possibly befall his wife and infant son. Mary was important to him as well, but no one was more important than his family.
As they walked, Elizabeth reminded Mary she would always have a home with her if anything happened.
Mary smiled. “I’ve heard your speech. You say the same thing to all of the mail order brides who you match up.”
“But I mean it even more with you! You have to promise me you won’t stay in a bad situation.”
“You know I’d never do that. I’ve seen real love. While I don’t think I’ll find it again, I know that I won’t allow anyone to mistreat me. You can stop worrying about that.”
“How can I not worry about you? You’re getting on a train to marry a stranger! I know how frightening it is to pledge your life to a man you know and love. I can’t imagine how it would be with a stranger.” Elizabeth stopped walking in the middle of the side walk. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want you to go. Stay here and help me raise my children.”
Mary laughed softly. “You’ve taught me to live again, Elizabeth. You don’t really want me to stay here and not move forward.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I guess I don’t, but I’ll worry about you every day until I hear from you. Don’t you dare forget to write me!”
“You know I won’t. I never would have guessed it, but I’m a very good correspondent. I actually enjoy writing letters.” She had a boxful she’d written to William over the years. She knew it
was time to destroy them, but how could she? He was the only man she’d ever love, and she wasn’t giving up the letters she’d written to him. She would find a good place to hide them from her new husband, and he’d never be wiser.
“Are you going to tell Bill about your William?”
Mary shrugged. “I’m not certain. I’ve thought about it a lot, but it sounds like it was a case of puppy love, not true love when I discuss it. How can I make someone understand just how much he meant to me?”
Elizabeth frowned. “You made me understand. Surely your future husband will be caring enough that you can share your innermost thoughts.”
“I have a feeling we’ll be more work partners than lovers. I don’t think there will be a lot of confidences between us, and that’s just fine with me. I don’t want him to take William’s place, and I’d feel like he was if I let him in that much.”
“Just don’t close your heart away from him. Promise?”
Mary sighed. “I don’t know if that’s a promise I can keep right now. I’ll have to think about it after I’ve met him. Most likely, I’ll spend the rest of my life in a loveless marriage, which will be all right, because I’ll have children to shower my love on.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I can’t imagine living like that. I hope you change your mind for your own sake.”
The conductor called Mary’s train, and she looked at her friend, fat tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll miss you and think of you every day. I promise to write as soon as I get there.”
“I’ll write as well.”
“Kiss Benjamin goodnight for me every night!”
Bernard rolled his eyes as the two women embraced. “You’re going to miss your train, Mary.”
Mary stopped on the first step of the train to wave goodbye. Once she was in her seat, she refused to look back. She could start again. She’d already done it once. Why would this time be any different?
Chapter 4
Mary was exhausted by the time her train arrived in South Dakota. She had briefly considered using some of her savings to purchase a sleeping car, but had decided against it. Now she wished she’d done it. Her whole body ached from all the sitting she’d done, and she wanted nothing more than a long hot bath. She felt like she hadn’t bathed in months.
She grabbed her carpet bag that she’d kept in the train with her, and then she carefully walked up the aisle to exit the train. If she never had to ride on a train again, it would be much too soon.
She stepped out onto the small platform in front of the train and looked around, trying to spot a man with dark hair and a beard. She didn’t see anyone who matched the description, so she wandered around, slowly stretching her legs. She stood around waiting for more than ten minutes before a wagon pulled up beside the platform, and a man jumped down. He wore brown pants, a dirty white shirt, and suspenders. “You Marilyn?”
Mary nodded. His voice sounded like something from her past, and her eyes immediately met the strangers. She nodded, feeling like someone else was controlling her neck muscles. “Bill?” Her legs felt weak with shock.
He gave her the same sort of look she was giving him, as if he’d just seen a ghost. “Mary?”
She tried to form words, but nothing would come out. Instead, she stared at him in shock. It couldn’t be. He was dead.
“My mother said you died. Was that the only way you could think to get away from me?” His voice was filled with anger.
She sputtered for a moment in the face of his emotions. All she could feel was relief that he was really alive! How could he be mad? “Papa said you were killed.” She wanted to run to him, but the look on his face told her that wasn’t an option.
“Sure.” William shook his head, turning away from her. “I think you can find your way back East.”
All the pent-up tears and all the emotions she’d felt for him for the past five years came crashing down. Right there on the train platform, she felt the tears start to pour down her cheeks. “William, wait!”
He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, recognizing that tone in her voice. She was crying, as if she had nothing to do with deceiving him. But how could he believe that? His mother loved him. She wouldn’t lie! He turned back around, not looking at her face, and instead staring at a point a few inches above her head. He couldn’t watch her cry over him. Not again! “What do you need?”
Mary dragged her hands over her cheeks, not bothering with her handkerchief. She recognized this moment as pivotal. He would either accept her or he wouldn’t, based on whatever she said right then. She stepped closer to him, her hand going out to touch him, but she couldn’t. Not yet. “Please give me a chance. Send a letter to Mrs. Johnson, the old housekeeper who worked for my father. She’ll tell you what I was told. Don’t throw our love away. Five years have already been wasted.”
“Love? Didn’t you read my letter? I have no love left to give.” His voice was hard, the same way it had been when he’d come to her rescue and hit Bob. He’d never used that tone with her before.
“I didn’t think I did either. When I thought you were dead.” She shook her head. “Please, William. Everyone in town will tell you that I left when I found out you’d died. That my heart was broken.”
He shook his head, unable to believe her. “What exactly do you want from me, Mary?”
She took a deep breath, swallowing every ounce of pride she’d ever possessed. “I want you to fulfill your promise. You asked me to marry you when I was sixteen. You invited me to come here and marry you just a few weeks ago. Do what you said you’d do.”
He stared at her, curious about what had changed her so much. She’d never been prideful, but five years ago she wouldn’t have even considered begging a man to marry her. “You want me to marry you, knowing that the only emotions I have for you are disgust? You’d marry a man who didn’t even want to look at you?”
She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart. “If that man was you, I would. I’ve loved you since I was fourteen years old, and I’ll love you until the day I die. If it means I can spend every day close to you, I’ll marry you.”
At her words, all of the old feelings came rushing through him. No, I can’t love her again. She deliberately deceived me. He sighed. “You are a better actress than I realized.”
She took the steps that would allow her to touch him, placing her hand flat on his chest, a familiar gesture for both of them. “Please, William.”
“I’ve been called Bill since I came to South Dakota.”
“I can try to adjust.” She didn’t care what she called him. It was him she cared about. What was it Shakespeare had said? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet…
“If we marry, we do it my way.”
“Anything.” She knew she shouldn’t agree so readily, but she had to. She couldn’t walk away and leave the only man she’d ever love. Not when he’d been lost to her for five years.
“No one knows about our history. Everyone just thinks you’re the mail order bride I sent for.” He lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “You will be a good wife to me. You’ll cook, clean, and do all of the womanly chores around the farm. I will send a letter back home, and I will find out the truth. If I find out you’re lying to me, or that you’ve ever lied to me, I’ll be sending you right back to Massachusetts.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
He tilted his head to one side. He desperately wanted to believe her, but how could he? His own mother claimed to have been at her funeral! “Let’s go see Pastor Robertson then.” He looked down at the carpet bag in her hand, and he wanted with everything inside him to tell her to carry it herself, but he couldn’t. Until it was confirmed that she was lying to him, he couldn’t treat her badly. He couldn’t treat her badly if she was lying to him. It wasn’t in him.
He took the bag from her and started walking toward his wagon. “Wait. There’s another trunk.” The trunk that held all the letters she’d written to him. That held
her mother’s wedding dress—the one she planned to wear that day.
He threw her carpet bag into the back of the wagon and walked over to a railroad official. Mary waited for him to come back. She’d learned to get into wagons on her own during their time apart, but she wanted him to want to help her. He always had when they’d gone for drives together back in Massachusetts.
He had the official help him get the trunk into the back of his wagon, and then he walked over to offer Mary a hand up. It was the first time he’d touched her since her arrival, and he felt the old familiar electricity shoot up his arm. He didn’t want to feel anything for her, but how could he help it? He’d loved her since he was a boy, and despite what he’d said to her, he still did. He couldn’t make himself stop.
As they drove toward Butterfly Meadows, all he could think of was the years that had been wasted. He’d mourned for the girl he’d loved every day for the past five years. He’d wake up in the middle of the night, aching for her. His answer had always been the same. He’d work. If it was a warm month, he’d go do some weeding on one of his fields. During the cold months, he’d do something to improve his barn or his home.
As a result, his house was one any woman would be proud to call her own. He found himself excited to show her the place.
He said nothing for the first few minutes of the drive, and Mary couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “About a week after I got your letter that you’d settled here in South Dakota, your mother came to my house. She and Papa went into the parlor and shut the door for more than an hour. When they came out, your mother left and Papa told me you had been trampled by your horse and died.” She looked down at her hands, which were folding and unfolding pleats into her skirt for want of something to do. “I left that night. I believed him that you’d died, but I blamed him for it, because he was the one who sent you away.”
He swallowed hard, hating to think of her on her own so young. “Where did you go?”
“I took the train to the next town. I didn’t have much money, but I could make it that far. I met a kind woman at the train station, and she offered me the job of cook at her home. Her name was Elizabeth Miller. It’s Elizabeth Tandy now.”
Gunsmoke and Gingham Page 39
