The Montana Rancher's Bride (New Montana Brides) (3 page)

chapter
Five

Responses

It was dark when Case rolled out of bed, and walked to the window. He pulled the curtain aside. It was a moonless light and it was difficult to make out any shapes. 

He groped around until he found the matches, and lit the oil lamp.
He dressed quickly, then went into the kitchen where he pulled on his socks and boots. After he blew the lamp out, he went outside, relieved himself, and wandered to the bunkhouse where the cook had coffee ready.

The first rays of light were peeking over the eastern horizon by the time he went into the
bunkhouse. He poured himself a tin cup of the steaming hot coffee. He sipped his coffee and watched the cook busy at fixing breakfast for the ranch hands who were straggling in.

“What’s on the schedule for today, boss,” one of the men asked. 

“I’d like to get a count and see where we stand,” he said. “If we are missing any, then round them up, and move the herd to the high pasture. There should be some good grass in by now.

“I have to go into Helena and pick up a few things, but should be back before dark. If there is anything else that needs doing, Luke will tell you.”

Finished eating, Case hitched his team to the wagon and headed for town. As usual, he stopped at the general store and gave Silas the list of supplies he needed.

“I think I have some mail for
you, ” he said. “You’re getting to be a popular feller.”

“I don’t know about that.
What do you have?”

“Hold on, I’ll get it.” Silas returned and handed him three letters.

“I see what you mean,” Case said. “I’ll be back in a little while. I’m gonna visit Jack and Letty.”

He climbed on the wagon, and opened the first of the letters.
A letter from the editor of The Matrimonial Bulletin, told him of a response to his ad, and the terms under which it was accepted and answered.

Dear 920, I am a war widow, twenty-five years of age. I am five feet four inches tall and of proportional weight. I am told I’m attractive
. I cook and sew. I also read and write. I have a son three years old. I have no prospects, save my widow’s pension. I would be interested in corresponding, with marriage a possibility. If you have an interest, please respond to number 727.

“Interesting,” he said aloud. A couple passing
by looked at him strangely. It was not a common thing to see a person talking when there was no one around.  The attention embarrassed him, and he put the letters away and would read them later.

“So, you g
et responses to your ad?” Letty asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Yes, I have three, but I’ve only opened one. The one I opened was from a twenty-five year old war wi
dow, with a three year old son. I don’t know if I’m ready to take on a three year old.”

“You had a good role model, and I think you’d be a good parent.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Before I answer this one, I want to see the others. I’m not sure I’ll make it in again this week. We’ve got a lot of catch-up work from our drive to Fort CF Smith.”

“I hope you can make it,” Jack said. 

Silas helped him load the supplies into the wagon, shook hands, and Case set out for the Lazy J.

He was sitting in the living room, reading the second of the three letters. 

Dear Number 920,

Your ad from the recent Matrimonial
Bulletin piqued my interest. I am twenty-five years of age. I am tall and of slender build. I have dark hair and blue eyes. I have been told I have a comely appearance.

I am the oldest of
five girls. I have completed the second level of school, at the local  women’s college, and have a love of reading. I am a good cook (If I do say so myself.) and I learned to sew of necessity. I haven’t lived on a ranch, but I have spent considerable time in Mama’s garden. I have no independent  resources, but I have a position as a teacher in a local academy. I have a reputation for being a hard worker.

I would like to correspond with you further, if my interests appeal to you.  If so, please reply to number 976.
 

“I favor this one over the first one. There’s just something about the way it sounds,” he said, talking to himself.  “
Lefty’s right. I need someone around to talk to, so I can quit talking to myself.”

The third letter began
, Dear
Number 920, I found your ad in the Bulletin and I am interested in what you said. I am nineteen years old, five feet two inches and weigh 130 pounds. I have some schooling and can read and write. I think I have a sense of humor, and I like people. I am interested in corresponding with you further. I will make a good companion and do not wish to be encumbered with children. Please respond to 790. I eagerly await your response.

“That one gets no attention from me,” he thought. “I may not want a three year old right from the start, but I would like to have a son someday.”

He rummaged around in the desk where he kept the record of the ranch operations until he found some paper and a stub of a pencil. By the light of the oil lamp, he wet the tip of the pencil with his tongue as he thought about what he wanted to say. The words did not come easy, since he had received exactly one more letter than he had ever written. 

Dear Number
976. 

I am pleased to have received your letter, and I hope this finds you well of mind and body.
 

I am twenty-
five years of age and, while I don’t know my weight, I would estimate around 160 pounds.  My hair is brown, as are my eyes. My mama ensured I could both read and write. It is a good thing, and has stood me in good stead as she and Papa were both killed in an Indian raid this past year. I was thrust into a situation I had not anticipated, and one for which I was ill prepared. 

I attend church regularly, another influence of my parents, both of whom were active in the church.

A rancher’s life is difficult, involving long hours in the saddle. It is a lonely life too with few prospects for marriage. At church recently, there were less than ten unmarried ladies, and none my age.

I would like to continue communications with you if you are of the same mind. I would be interested in life in your part of the country. We moved from Texas to Montana when I was a young lad, and
I have not traveled beyond Montana since. Do you live in a town, or on a farm?

I look forward to your letter.

Sincerely, Number 920.

chapter Six

Exchanging Letters

Carrie Robbins had placed an ad in The Matrimonial Bulletin and was assigned number 976, and had written to number 920, in care of the Matrimonial Bulletin. 

She had told no one about her ad. The Robbins family would have been scandalized to find their beautiful twenty-three year old daughter was advertising for a husband. They would admit she was approaching the unmarriageable age
of twenty-five.

“Honey, I’ve invited that nice Mr. Chalmers to dinner,” Bessie Robbins said to her daughter. “You remember him.  He always sits behind us in church. I’ve seen him watching you
. He has a nice farm just past the Benson place.”

“Mama, why did you do that?  He’s as old as
Papa. And he smells. When it’s hot in the church, it almost makes me gag.”

“Carrie Robbins! You stop talking like that. I’m ashamed of you. He’s a nice man, and since his wife passed, he and his son have lived alone.”

“His son is the same age as Susan,” Carrie said, referring to one of her sisters.

“It’s time you were married, Carrie, and since the war took most of the men your age, you can’t be too particular.  Mr. Chalmers will make a good husband, and provide you with a good home.”

“Mama, I will not marry that… that pig farmer. I would rather be an old maid than marry him.”

“That’s enough, young lady. You keep a civil tongue in your head. All of your sisters have beaus and you haven’t had one since Joshua went off to war.”

“Mama, Joshua and I were betrothed. We would have been married if he hadn’t been killed at Gettysburg. It isn’t my fault he didn’t come back.”

“That’s my point,” her mother said. “He didn’t come back, and you’ve not had anyone call on you since.”

    “I’m going to work, Mama, do you need anything from the general store, or the mercantile? I can pick it up on my way home.”

“If
they have received any new bolts of cloth, you might snip a sample, and if it looks nice, I’ll make you a nice dress to wear when our guests are here.”

* * *

It was a beautiful spring day in Oxford. Her students were restless, and they were paying little attention to their lessons. Carrie could empathize with them, because it was too nice a day to be cooped up in a stuffy classroom. Mercifully, the bell rang for dismissal ten seconds before she would have lost it.

She stopped at the general store and asked for her mail, keeping her fingers crossed. It worked. There was a letter postmarked Kansas City. She gathered the few things her mother had asked her to pick up and hurried home.

The letter was from Number 920, as she hoped. When she came to the part about his parents being killed, she put her hand to her mouth, and said,
“Oh no. It sounds as if he was the one who found them.  How horrible.

It does sound like a lonely existence. And I thought I worked hard. In the saddle all day. His description sounds like he’s thin. Probably doesn’t eat anything but beef and beans. I can take care of that in short order. 

“
He is a man of faith too. I like that. He writes a nice letter too. I like the way this sounds.”

Writing To Case…

Carrie had received five responses to her ad, from the Montana Territory, Wyoming, and two from Texas. Two were from farmers and the other three from ranchers. Of the five letters, two were from widowers, attesting to the hard life of a wife and mother on the frontier. They were left without mothers for their children. 

Having decided she liked Number 920, Carrie sat down to answer his letter.

“Dear Number 920.

I was most pleased to receive your letter of the 20
th
. I was hoping to hear from you again.

It brought tears to my eyes when I read
about the tragedy to your parents. How terrible that must have been for you to lose them so suddenly and both at once. It is said, ‘No one is promised tomorrow,’ and I guess that is true. I’m not sure I could handle a loss, such as the one you suffered..

Are you still troubled with Indian Raids? I have no exp
eriences to compare with living in danger. Is the Army involved in protecting the settlers?

I was pleased to find you are a man of faith. My family has always been thus. In our church, I see a similar situation to what you describe, only the reverse. There are
very few unmarried men in our small town. I was betrothed at the age of eighteen; however, he was killed in the Battle of Gettysburg.

I have not spoken to my parents of my writing you. They would not be pleased to hear of me advertising in hope of finding a husband. I will tell them in due
time, but I’m not ready for the ordeal at this point. In the meantime, my mother is worried I will be a spinster and is inviting widowers as prospective husbands. I want no part of this as most of that rank approaches my father in age. In the meantime, I continue my teaching.

This is the nicest time of the year
for me, and my students all have their minds and hearts elsewhere. I must confess, mine is also.

Please write soon. You will add some sunshine to this girl’s life.

I remain, sincerely,

Number 976 

After mailing her letter, Carrie spoke to her mother regarding the guest her mother had invited to dinner. “Mama, I do not intend to be here for the dinner to which you have invited Mr. Chalmers. If I were to do so, it would be under false pretenses, since I do not intend to establish a relationship with him.

“You know I love you and Papa, and I do not want to cause you any embarrassment, so I am telling you ahead of time.”

“Carrie Louise Robbins, Mr. Chalmers is coming to dinner and he expects you to be here, and so do I,” her mother said.

“I have spoken with Sue Ann Hicks, one of the other u
nmarried teachers. She has a small living space above the mercantile, and she has offered to share the space with me.  It is convenient to the academy. I would pay a share of the rent and other expenses. It might be best if I accept her offer and prevent this unpleasantness between us.”

“You would do that? Move away from home, to live with someone we don’t even know?”

If you only knew what else I am considering, you would have apoplexy,
Carrie thought. “Yes, Mama, I would. I don’t think you realize how strongly I feel about this.”

“Well, I never…” her mother said. “This is going to upset your Papa more than it has me.
I only want you to be secure and to have someone to provide for you. You can’t teach forever.”

“I could if I had to
. I am a strong person. I got that from you.”

“I want you to have an easier life than I had, that’s all.”