The Orphan Bride (Mail-Order Bride Book 2)

by Stella Clark

  The Orphan Bride

  ©2019 by Stella Clark

  All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter One

  “Friday, February 15, 1895. 7:56 p.m. A cold wind whipped snow flurries through the streets all the way to the post office and the six-block walk back home.” That was how Sadie Beckman began her diary entry the evening she dropped the letter into the outgoing mail slot at the post office. The rest of her entry described how she felt as she dropped the letter into the slot, how it sounded when it hit bottom, and what she prayed on the walk back home.

  Sadie purposely mailed the letter late in the day, hoping the lobby would be empty at that hour. She was a very private person and hated the thought of strangers watching her. Of course, logic told her that no one there could have any idea what the letter said … or would care about that or where it was going. But there had been very little logic involved in Sadie’s decision to mail the letter. She’d made that decision with her heart. And when her heart was involved, logic often gave way. She was a deeply private person and guarded her heart as few others do. She was very aware of its power. Most folks commonly experience changes of heart. Sadie seldom did.

  She had to walk directly into the frigid wind going home. She thought she must be a sight, with her woven wool blanket wrapped tightly around her and only her eyes exposed. But her first priority was to stay warm and dry, and she couldn’t afford a winter coat. It was one of the blankets she’d made before her parents and sister had died of cholera two years earlier. She had since made and sold several more, with the exception of the one she wore and another she used as a bedspread, both of which had been started by her mother.

  Her parents had left her very little money. She scraped by making and selling blankets and rugs and then used most of the money she made to buy more wool at the farmers market on Ridge Street and repeated the process. She was grateful her mother had taught her how to weave. But she never really enjoyed it, and it didn’t pay well.

  It was her inheritance from her father that excited her. In his early years, he had been a successful gunsmith and collected a dozen or so fine firearms. When she was ten years old, her father began taking her to his target practices each Saturday morning. She was a natural and became such a good shot over the next five years that she often won a half-dollar or two in wagers at the gun range from men who refused to believe they could be out-shot by a kid. On good weeks, her father let her keep half her winnings. Before long, Sadie used the pellet gun to kill quail and doves for food. She lured them into the alley with dried corn and seeds and shot the tasty birds from a rear window.

  While caring for her family, Sadie had no time for herself. By the time they died, she felt trapped in a solitary life. For the next two years, she worked menial jobs by day, crafted blankets and rugs by night, and sold them (and birds) whenever possible to make ends meet. This kept her very busy. It also kept her very lonely. There simply was very little time for socializing. But Sadie’s problem wasn’t her lack of time … it was her shyness.

  She felt comfortable selling her wares at the markets. But she was never comfortable meeting and talking to people on a personal level. She was attractive enough, in an unassuming way. But she never wore makeup and simply pulled her hair into a ponytail rather than trying flattering styles. So it was easy to miss her natural beauty. And most folks did. Sadie came to accept life as a wallflower during those two years after burying her family.

  But soon after turning nineteen, she began to wonder if, perhaps, life could mean something more than work and loneliness. She occasionally made awkward attempts at interacting more with people at work. She also began attending church regularly for the first time in her life, hoping she might make the acquaintance of a handsome, financially stable, single man. Week after week, she attended church regardless of the weather, hoping God would bring such a man into her life. He didn’t.

  Then, on Valentine’s Day, she spent what seemed like hours listening to women she worked with go on and on about the cards, candy, and flowers they’d received from the men in their lives. Hearing their stories drove home the reality of her situation and left Sadie with a dark sadness. She had nothing to share, and no one to share with. By the time her workday was over, Sadie had had enough.

  On her way home, she stopped at the five-cent store and bought a copy of the Matrimonial Times. When she got home, she studied the “Interested in Marriage” section until she found an ad she thought sounded as though the man who submitted it might be safe and suitable to correspond with.

  Quiet Man of Means

  I’ve learned money is not the answer.

  A life without love is not worth living.

  I seek a like-minded, Godly young lady

  who shares my goal of living happily

  ever after. If that’s you, please write.

  Sadie circled the ad with a pencil and left it lying on her tiny kitchen table while she tidied the apartment and herself before bedtime. She returned to the ad now and then, reading it over and over, felt silly when she realized she had memorized it. It resonated within her. She had never had money. But she, too, believed it was not the answer to a happy life. Oh, how wonderful it would be to get to know a man with money who wanted more out of life just as she did.

  Chapter Two

  What would be the harm in responding to this gentleman? Sadie thought to herself. It will only take a few minutes of my time and a few cents for postage. That seems harmless enough. If he answers in a similar fashion, we just might strike up a regular correspondence. If not, oh well.

  Sadie wrestled with the idea for nearly half an hour before finally settling into a chair at the table and writing her response:

  Dear Quiet Man of Means,

  I could not agree more with your conclusion concerning money. Though I’ve never had much, I’ve also come to believe money cannot solve all of life’s problems. It did require a few pennies to post this letter to you. But that seems a small price to pay for a chance at a new friendship with someone who shares my values. If you agree, please write back soon.

  Your new friend,

  Ms. Sadie Beckman

  With that, it was done. Sadie neatly folded the letter and thought the best way to keep it neat and dry would be to place it in a book … if she had a book. That was when she remembered her mother’s Bible. Sadie had packed it away in a small trunk with the rest of her mother’s things and now used the trunk as a nightstand beside her bed. She removed the small kerosene lamp and alarm clock from the trunk and opened it. That simple act triggered a chain of memories for Sadie. The Bible was the last thing she had packed away, so it was right on top. Sadie remembered what her mother had written on the first page of the book shortly before she died.

  “To my dearest, beautiful daughter. Keep this Holy Bible close and read it often. Our God is faithful and will never forsake you. Your grateful mother loves you very much.”

  Sadie opened the Bible and began to cry as she reread the note. She had not kept the Bible close. She’d packed it away when her family die
d and vowed never to look at it again. Sadie felt Jesus had forsaken her. If he had heard her prayers asking him to heal her family, he had ignored them.

  She wanted to pack the Bible away again and be done with it forever. But it was the only book she had, and she knew it was the best way to protect the letter until she got to work in the morning and put it in an envelope she hoped she could get from her boss’s secretary, Miss Simpson. With luck, Miss Simpson would also have a first-class stamp to sell her.

  At least this once, this Bible will do me some good, Sadie thought.

  But as she carefully tucked the letter inside, her eyes fell upon a verse her mother had underlined over and over. It was John 14:13.

  “And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do,

  that the Father may be glorified in the Son.”

  Sadie’s first thought was, “Sorry, Jesus, but I’ve tried that before and it didn’t work.”

  It was in that moment that Sadie first clearly understood the importance the letter held for her. She’d tried to assign it minimal value while writing it. But by the time she finished, she understood that it had taken on far greater meaning. The letter was her first real attempt to reach out for a better life. It was clear her future would likely be bleak in Philadelphia. Maybe, just maybe, a life worth living was waiting for her out West. She would never know unless she mailed the letter. So as she tucked it into the Bible, she said a short, awkward prayer hoping Jesus would hear her this time … and ensure the letter reached a man to whom it was equally important.

  Chapter Three

  At five o’clock the next morning, Sadie stepped out her door into six inches of freshly fallen snow to begin her windy, cold walk to work. Snow swirled wildly in the brisk wind, and she pulled her blanket more tightly around her with her free hand. In her other hand, she clutched the Bible tightly to protect the letter it contained.

  When she got to work, she was happy to see Miss Simpson was already at her desk.

  “Hello, Miss Simpson!” Sadie said cheerfully.

  “Good morning,” Miss Simpson said flatly without looking up from her paperwork.

  “I was hoping you might be able to sell me an envelope and a first-class stamp,” Sadie said.

  “An envelope, I have. It will cost you two cents. I don’t have stamps,” the secretary said.

  Sadie happily produced the two cents and took the envelope to her work bench. Then she took the letter from her Bible and slipped it inside the envelope, sealed it, and carefully placed it right where the Bible had previously sat. She also took another look at John 14:13 and, for the sake of doing all she felt she could, she again briefly prayed that Jesus would make a way for the letter to begin a rewarding correspondence with a man who would make her happy she had sent it.

  Sadie’s day dragged slowly by. To make things worse, Sadie stayed later than usual to give the streets between work and the post office the chance to clear. It was a good plan, and it worked. But as the time to leave drew near, she grew increasingly troubled. She’d asked everyone at work if they had a first-class stamp to sell, or even a second-class stamp. No one did. And now, most of the shops along the route to the post office would surely be closed. The only hope she had was that someone mailing letters as late as her might have an extra stamp to sell.

  The trip to the post office seemed like just another walk on just another Philadelphia winter’s evening. She tried to stay positive, but by the time she stepped on the curb outside the building, her heart began to sink. She hadn’t seen another soul. What was worse, all the shops she passed that might have had stamps had closed by 4:00 p.m. Her last hope was that someone would be in the lobby mailing letters like her and would have a stamp to sell. But the lobby was empty. The floor was completely dry, telling Sadie no one had been there for some time. The sign on the door said the lobby would close at 8:00 p.m., meaning she had less than half an hour to meet someone with a stamp to sell.

  By 7:50 p.m., Sadie gave up hope. She felt defeated, with no plan for greater success tomorrow unless she left work early … if her boss would even allow it. That would also mean a crowd would see her mail the letter. Sadie shrugged at the prospect and tried to think of the letter with a better perspective. It was, after all, just a letter. Of course she would be mailing it. That’s what people did at the post office. Still, as she exited the lobby, she couldn’t help herself and felt a deep dread of mailing it so publicly the next day.

  As she left and got just a couple of steps out onto the sidewalk outside the post office, her foot came down beside a postage stamp resting on top of the snow. It was a perfectly dry postage stamp. It was a perfectly dry first-class postage stamp.

  “This is impossible,” Sadie said out loud, thrilled she was all alone.

  Sadie could easily believe someone had dropped it. But she couldn’t believe it had been there long enough for there to be no one else in sight and still be perfectly dry like the floor inside the lobby. Sadie snatched the stamp up, dashed back inside, stuck the stamp on the envelope, and dropped it into the slot with just minutes to spare … and no one around.

  Sadie had two questions to ponder: When would her letter reach the offices of the Matrimonial Times in St. Louis? And where on earth had the stamp she used to mail it come from? Her first question had a simple answer, and she quickly dismissed it. But she pondered the second question all the way home. The mystery of the stamp brought John 14:13 to her mind, and she wondered about it. Then, for good measure, she said another short prayer for happiness.

  Finding the stamp could not be more mysterious. The snow it had rested upon was wet. Yet the gum on the back of it had been perfectly dry. Sadie could accept that if she had seen anyone else even near the post office. But she hadn’t. In her diary that night, Sadie called the discovery of the stamp “a mysterious stroke of good luck.”

  Chapter Four

  The next two months were tough for Sadie to bear. It took nearly two weeks for the letter to reach the Matrimonial Times in St. Louis where it sat for two weeks on a clerk’s desk, waiting for the ad responses to stop coming in. When the envelope with ten letters was finally mailed to Alex Wineland, another two weeks had passed before they reached him. Alex took several weeks to carefully read each letter, choosing three women to correspond with.

  The snow was gone in Philadelphia by the time Sadie received a response. She snatched the letter from her mailbox and ran inside with it. Calming herself so as not to tear the letter while opening it, Sadie took a deep breath, unfolded the single piece of paper, and read the response her letter had prompted.

  My Dear Miss Beckman,

  I was greatly impressed by your thoughtful sentiment when I read your letter. I believe we have the basis to begin a meaningful and fun correspondence in the hope of eventually determining just how compatible we might be. I would like that very much and hope you feel the same.

  Sincerely,

  Mr. Alex Wineland

  That was it; nothing flowery or emotional. It sounded almost like a business letter. But Sadie understood the person who sent it probably sent many letters. Her hope was that as time went on and they began to get to know one another, she would learn more about the man behind the letters. She was thrilled that he had enclosed his home address to make their correspondence faster. Her excitement about such a relatively simple thing told Sadie she expected to enjoy this process very much and wanted it to progress more quickly.

  Sadie drafted quite a long letter to Mr. Wineland before finally going to bed. She told him everything about her life she was comfortable revealing and invited him to respond in kind. Sadie figured his response would tell her much more about this man and help her to decide whether she wanted to continue corresponding. By the time his first letter arrived, Sadie had made a special trip to the five-cent store to ensure envelopes and stamps were never again a problem.

  ***

  Alex’s next letter arrived much more quickly and included three pieces of paper. Sadie was excited to
receive it, hoping she would begin learning about this new man who seemed interested in learning more about her as well. She opened it with even more care than the first, thinking she might want to keep them both if the letters continued and became enjoyable. She smiled at the thought, remembering how cautiously she had begun this long-distance conversation.

  As Sadie carefully slipped the letter from its envelope, she was pleased that its arrival gave her the first true feeling of control she’d experienced in her life. Happy to be an equal partner in the first relationship she’d ever initiated, she was ready to move forward … come what might. She sat down at her table with the letter in front of her, a hot cup of her favorite tea beside her, and began reading.

  Dear Sadie,

  I hope this letter finds you well and looking forward to many more. I certainly am. The one I’ve just received from you touched me deeply. I was so sorry to learn of the great hardship and loss you experienced at such a tender young age. But at the same time, I must also tell you that I was inspired to learn how you managed to rise above it all and become a strong, independent young woman. I, too, have lost someone I loved deeply. My dear wife died during childbirth nearly a year ago. My great grief was mercifully softened by the arrival of our beautiful daughter, Maggie, who I am now raising with the help of my loving mother …

  Sadie felt a bond begin as she read Alex’s opening paragraph. Alex sounded like a man with strong values and an even stronger heart. Her interest grew as she continued reading.

  I am midway through my second term as the duly-elected sheriff of New Mexico’s Doña Ana County. I was born and raised in Las Cruces. I plan to live out my days here in this hot and dry, but welcoming town. My mother often complains that I give too much of myself to the job and seldom have time or energy left for family. She may be right, but I’ve dedicated myself to helping make this part of New Mexico safer and more prosperous. I do it for my family, of course, but also for the hundreds of other families who share it with us, and the thousands more to come.