At first the possibility seemed absurd to Clara, but her friend insisted it was viable. They kept talking about it, though, and Clara quickly learned that it was a viable option in Tennessee due to the toll the war had taken.
“There just aren’t enough men coming back for us all to have husbands,” her friend had explained. “And then there are all the widows who are suddenly alone, too.”
It was true. Fate was particularly unkind to the widows Clara heard about; many were left destitute as well as bereft, with no recourse to improve their lot in life. She even heard stories about some who became willing to selling themselves, as horrifying as that was.
Those stories had made the mail order bride possibility look all the more attractive, and Clara had begun checking out possibilities.
Most sounded nearly as bad as prostitution. Some of the stories she’d heard about the weather in the midwest were horrifying; the storms that swept across the prairie were sometimes devastating, especially the blizzards, the likes of which Clara had never experienced.
The stories about life on the west coast didn’t sound much better. The gold rush was nearly over, and many of the women who’d gone to places like San Francisco to find husbands often found themselves in a similar position, with no choice but to sell themselves to stay out of complete poverty.
Finally, though, Clara heard about a possibility. Initially Colorado seemed unlikely; Clara couldn’t imagine living in a place where she imagined the terrain to be so rough; it seemed nearly as bad as what she’d heard about the colder parts of the midwest.
Then she found out about a different kind of town. It was her friend who told her about it; apparently one of the girls who’d married before and been left a widow had gone there and been able to find true love again.
The town was called Last Chance. Clara had asked for more details, so her friend, whose name was Jennifer, had done some digging around.
What she found out seemed very odd. The best way to become a mail order bride in Last Chance, according to Jennifer, was for Clara to write a letter and address it to the mayor of the town and express an interest in becoming a mail order bride.
Against her better judgment, Clara had done it. Initially she’d thought this would put an end to the possibility, that she wouldn’t get a response, but a couple of weeks later Clara received a letter from Owen Standard, the mayor of Last Chance.
“That’s him,” Jennifer had said when Clara showed it to her. “Looks like you’re on the right track.”
But Clara had been skeptical. Perhaps it was due to her family’s wealth, but she’d never seen herself as the kind of girl who would do something like this, take off for parts unknown based on a single letter.
So she’d written another, expecting that would be the end of it. Much to her surprise, though, Clara had gotten another letter from the mayor, which made her wonder exactly what this man’s duties were.
Amazingly, Owen Standard ended up explaining these in detail in a series of letters. He said that many of them involved growing and developing the town, and that doing this via mail order brides was one of the primary mechanisms he’d used.
Once again, Clara was skeptical at first, but by his third letter she was convinced. After a while, his strategy began to make sense; Owen explained that hard-working married couples formed the backbone of the town, and they’d helped fuel its growth.
That had sparked another round of questions. How could everyone be like that? What about women of bad character, and the men who wished to marry and possibly just seduce them for all sorts of unsavory reasons?
His answer had been quite honest. Initially they’d had some of them, Owen Standard wrote. But he’d been careful to weed them out, and over time he’d learned the best ways to do that.
Now, he said, that hardly ever happened. Once Last Chance had reached a certain point it was no longer an issue; the people of character who’d already married wanted folks who were similar, and couples who wanted the same kind of life.
Owen had gone on to explain that as well. He’d told her some of the details of life in Last Chance; the way the town had developed, the land that was available, and some of the stories about the women who’d come there as mail order brides.
By the time they’d exchanged a half-dozen letters, Clara felt like she knew Owen Standard the way she would know an older friend or a mentor.
She’d told him a bit about her situation, just enough to let him know what her basic circumstances were, although at that point Clara had to start hiding the letters from her mother, knowing that if Edna ever found out what she was doing she’d simply toss her out of the house.
By the time she made the decision to leave, Clara was comfortable with it. Telling her mother had been difficult; Edna turned a shade of white Clara had never seen before, to the point where it seemed a miracle that she hadn’t fainted dead away.
After that, her exit had been quick. There was no point in staying; Clara knew her time in Tennessee was over and it was time to start a new life.
Her arrival in Last Chance had been everything she’d thought it would be; Owen Standard had shown her around, and then he’d handed her off to a woman named Blossom Holloway, who owned the local hotel.
Clara’s stay at the Lazy Layabout had been drastically different from anything she’d known in her young life. She’d never imagined herself living in a hotel of any sort; it seemed like it would be a low and classless thing to do.
But the reality turned out to be anything but. The Lazy Layabout wasn’t luxurious, but in many ways it didn’t even seem like a hotel.
It was more like a home for wayward mail order brides when they first arrived, and Clara certainly fit the bill in that regard. Oh, she had to work to earn her keep in a manner of speaking, but the turn-down work helping Blossom was work she was certainly used to from her time back in Tennessee.
At first it felt odd not to have a man waiting for her, but it was her knowledge of Owen Standard that had gotten Clara through that aspect of it.
He’d been very direct and honest that something like that might happen, but the mayor had also assured her that someone would quickly arrive looking for a wife.
And that was exactly what had happened. Clara had met Edward just as he was building his new general store, and she’d been impressed that he was doing it from the ground up.
They’d hit it off immediately, and Clara had been impressed by the fact that he wished to court her. This was a drastic change from what she’d experienced back in Tennessee with the men who were just interested in her because her family had money.
After that, she’d gone through a different version of what she’d been through with Owen Standard when it came to getting to know Edward. Not having a past and a set of circumstances seemed to free Clara to be herself, and this in turn helped her realize how compatible she was with Edward.
But now things seemed to be taking a different turn. Clara walked up Main Street after leaving Edward’s store, and she wondered how this could have happened.
At first Edward had seemed so eager to marry, so much so that Clara had to slow him up, until finally they agreed on a fall wedding.
Until he started stalling on her. This made no sense to Clara, and the more questions she asked about it, the more vague his answers became.
Something was definitely up. Clara wasn’t sure what it was, but she’d developed an intuitive feel for what Edward was thinking, and it was the way he was being evasive that convinced her of this.
Still, she was convinced it wasn’t infidelity or interest in another. Now that she knew him well, albeit briefly, Clara knew those things weren’t a part of Edward’s nature.
No, she would never have to be concerned about him being a faithful husband. Clara just had to be worried about getting him to the altar, and about figuring out what was preventing that from happening.
But she couldn’t. No matter how many times Clara went over it in her mind, nothing would come to her.
There were times when she didn’t know whether to get angry or cry, and this was one of those times when it felt like the latter would prevail.
Clara wouldn’t give in—or at least she didn’t think she would. As she walked she took in the other shops, thinking about Edward’s store and how proud he was of it, how well it fit in with the other stores.
She also remembered the walk she’d gone on with him, the one where Edward had introduced her to the other shop owners. He’d been so proud of her, too, and Edward had talked eagerly of getting to know them. He wanted her to be friends with them, too, both the wives and the men he knew.
Now the sight of those shops made Clara want to cry. Would she ever fit in here and become one of them? Would she be allowed to attain the life of love and prosperity that seemed so close at hand?
Clara couldn’t answer that question at the moment. She thought about going into one of the shops to say hello to someone Edward had introduced her to, but the idea seemed too awkward. Clara didn’t know any of these people, really, and it would take time before she would.
Then she had another idea. She saw the cross on top of the church at the top of the hill, and Clara’s heart was filled with sadness.
How I’ve neglected my relationship with God! she thought, pressing her hand over her heart. How could I let such a thing happen?
It was understandable, though. Clara remembered the trip west—the need to make arrangements, the constant hustle to make connections, the way things sometimes seemed to change with barely a moment’s notice.
She’d known when all those things were happening that it was understandable and even forgivable for her not to attend services or find time to pray. Clara had decided to pardon herself for overlooking that at the time, but she wasn’t in a forgiving mood now.
I need to make up for some of that, she thought, and Clara began to climb the hill with more determination than she ever had.
Not that it was a particularly steep hill. The town fathers of Last Chance had built the church on a hill more as a symbol, that God’s presence was the most important thing overlooking the town.
It wasn’t a difficult hill to climb, but Clara shook her head as she did, thinking about how forgetful and foolish she’d been.
And yet, she knew little about worship in Last Chance. Oh, she’d gone to church a couple of times since her arrival, mostly at the mayor’s behest.
He’d encouraged her to do it to meet people and become acclimated to the town, and that had allowed Clara to let her faith slide a little.
When she reached the top of the hill she had a new problem. Would the door be open? Would the church be unlocked? Was it possible to simply go in and pray?
Thankfully, the answer to all three of those questions was a resounding “yes.” Clara opened the door with some trepidation, but it opened easily, and of course no one was around since it was the middle of the afternoon.
Still, she entered cautiously, thinking someone might walk in on her any minute. Clara had no idea who, but she was definitely intimidated by the idea of entering God’s house alone in a place where she was new, even though she knew full well she would likely be welcome there.
But being welcomed by anyone other than God Himself was a non-issue at the moment. The church was definitely empty, so Clara blessed herself and made her way toward the altar.
It seemed too forward to pray at the altar, or even the front row, so Clara picked out a row slightly further back. She had the place to herself, but still she looked around, kneeling and blessing herself once more as made her way down the row.
She sat and then knelt, and Clara took several deep breaths. As she did, a profound sense of relief came over her, and Clara wondered how she could have allowed herself to go for so long without praying this way, even though her reasons for not doing so were justified and perhaps even necessary.
Clara began praying slowly, thinking about how unfamiliar the well-known prayers sounded in her mind because it had been so long since she’d said them.
She thought the prayers would be more comfortable as she repeated them, but that wasn’t the case at all.
Instead the opposite happened; the prayers began to feel all wrong, and Clara wondered if this was about her, if she was doing something wrong in praying this way at this particular time.
Finally she reminded herself that there was no such thing as wrong prayer, and Clara chided herself for a moment.
Still, the feeling she had was genuine, and Clara frowned as she looked around, wondering what the answer to this feeling was.
It took a few minutes, but finally Clara began to understand what might be happening. It felt like she needed to actually talk to God, not just voice the same prayers she’d learned by wrote when she was a young girl.
Slowly, she began to do just that. Clara looked up at the altar, and as she did, she asked why this was happening—why was she becoming so estranged from Edward, if that was even the right word for it.
Even as she asked the question, though, Clara knew she wasn’t looking for an answer. Just voicing the question in a conversational way was half the battle, and once again she felt the same kind of relief she’d experienced when she first entered the church.
After a time a response of sorts came to her, even though it really wasn’t a response at all, not in the strictest sense. The silence Clara experienced as she awaited God’s “response” felt laden with meaning, and finally she realized that this was a part of God’s answer.
It’s all about waiting and being patient, Clara said to herself. I just need to give Edward the room he needs to work all this out.
It wouldn’t be easy, though; Clara already knew that. Just thinking about Edward’s uncertainty made her impatient, but she knew that if she didn’t overcome that impatience, she would only make things worse, most likely.
She let the silence last for the amount of time that felt necessary, and when that time passed, Clara began praying again.
She said the simple rote prayers again, but this time they felt better to her, more natural, like they were a necessary part of this experience.
When she finished them Clara knew it was time to leave. She stood up awkwardly, then made her way down the row and out into the main aisle. Once again Clara blessed herself, and she made her way back toward the entrance.
As she reached the foyer she looked back one last time, and Clara saw a figure emerging from a side door that had to lead to the rectory. Sure enough, it was the minister she saw, Parson Robertson, whom she barely knew from her brief time in Last Chance.
The mayor had introduced her, which had been pleasant enough, and then the parson had counseled Clara when she and Edward decided to marry.
She’d been impressed by the counseling he’d given her, even though much of it had seemed perfunctory to Clara, the kind of thing most couples in their situation received when they made the decision to become one.
He was wise, though, and for a moment Clara wondered if she should approach him. As she did this decision was taken out of her hand when the parson turned and waved, and Clara returned the gesture with a small wave of her own.
She wondered if he would approach her instead, and what she would do if that happened. Clara didn’t want to interrupt his day, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to anyone right now, given that what felt right was for her to be alone with her thoughts and the newfound peace she felt.
Somehow the parson seemed to understand this, and he waved again, then went on with his duties. The sequence of gestures didn’t seem rude at all; indeed, it felt like exactly what was necessary, and when he made his way to the altar she knew she was free to go.
But go where, exactly? Clara knew she couldn’t go back to the general store; she felt bad about being so abrupt and distant with Edward, and it felt like she would only make things worse if she tried to correct that right now.
No, that wasn’t what she was supposed to do at all. Slowly, Clara began to walk down the hill, but sudden
ly she turned and began walking toward the bluff beyond.
At first she had no idea what she had in mind, but it didn’t take Clara long at all to figure it out. She wanted to see the land, the look of this new place. Clara wanted to ground herself here, and she knew she still hadn’t done that, not completely.
She took her time taking it all in, until finally Clara began to get chilly. It was time to walk back, so she headed back to the hotel.
As she did, she walked by the general store again, and once more Clara was tempted to stop by. She knew he’d be working, and she wanted to tell him of her trip to the church, the peace she’d found during her time with God.
She reminded herself that this probably wasn’t the best time for this given the decision she’d already made, but as she did, Clara noticed something strange.
There was a sign in the door of the general store, one she’d never seen before. It looked very much like the “Closed” sign she’d seen before, but it didn’t make sense that it would be up during the day.
Clara drew closer, knowing this was something she needed to know about. It was definitely odd, and Clara looked for some kind of note with it, an explanation, perhaps.
But there wasn’t one. The store was definitely closed—it was late enough in the day to require that a lamp be lit, but Edward had done no such thing.
Clara looked around, as if there might be someone nearby who could explain all this to her. There wasn’t, though, and all she could do was purse her lips, then cup her chin in her hand.
This doesn’t make any sense, she thought. And it’s not like Edward at all. What in the world is going on?
Edward had done considerable praying of his own before he’d made the decision to leave for Texas. It wasn’t church praying, though, and he hadn’t consulted Clara in the matter, which caused him considerable shame.
But in Edward’s mind none of it could be avoided. Mentioning his mother to Clara would only spark another round of rows, and Edward had definitely had enough of that.
The Mail Order Brides of Last Chance Page 2
