The Widow Finds Love (Mail Order Bride Series)

Susan Leigh Carlton              about 30,000 words

Tomball, TX77377

[email protected]

I continue to learn from readers of my books.  Those who have read previous selections will note in this book, I have significantly toned back the descriptions of sexual content scenes.  This is at the behest of several readers.  Previous books have seen reductions from the descriptions in earlier books, but I went a lot further with this one.  To be sure, there is sexual content, but it is much less explicit.

Most of the books in the romance genre tend to be around 15,000 words.  I write until the characters tell me to stop.  In this book, they stopped talking to me at about 25,000 words.  I hope you enjoy my efforts.

Susan

Several years ago, I did a lot of work on my family genealogy and had some rather spectacular success. This story is loosely based on my great-great-great-grandmother.
  Her husband was wounded in a battle in Warrenton, Virginia in October of 1862.  He died of his wounds a month later.  My GGG Grandmother's husband was one of three sons lost by his family in the war.  Later in her life than happened in this story, she left South Carolina in 1888 and moved to Salt Lake City.  In my story, the missionary was a Baptist.  In real life, the missionary was a Mormon and my GGG Grandmother joined the Mormon Church.  She died in Provo, Utah in 1895.  Her family (My family) remained in South Carolina and to this day, my family lives just sixteen miles from York, SC, formerly called Yorkville.  In fact, my family lives within twenty-five miles of where they lived 200 years ago.

The Civil War raged from 1861 to 1865.  It decimated an entire American generation of young men.  An estimated 750,000 casualties from both sides, with the majority of those from the more populous North.  The rural South fatalities are put between 250,000 and 260,000.

An inordinate number of widows were created, in addition to reducing the number of marriageable males.  This is the story of a widow from the rural town of York, South Carolina.  York County had the highest death rate of any county in South Carolina, 805 out of an adult white male population of 4,379, or 183.8 per 1000.

Widowed at the age of 30 and left with a ten year old daughter, Sarah Hutchison had few places to turn for support.  Her husband’s family had lost all three sons in the conflict. 

At the war’s end, Sarah took note of her eligible prospects, and decided they were virtually non-existent.  Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Sarah was determined to find something that would enable herself and her daughter to survive.

Her answer presented itself when she was attending a meeting being conducted by a missionary.  He told her of a newspaper that carried ads for men and women in search of mates.  Getting the details, she decided to explore the opportunities.

Read about Sarah and her venture into a world where people advertised for wives… and husbands.

Susan Leigh Carlton 2014

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It was November 15, 1861, and the day dawned bright and clear in the hamlet of Yorkville, South Carolina, as a crowd gathered to send their men and boys off to Charleston to fight the dreaded Yankees.  All six members of the town band were present and tuning up their instruments.  Dogs were barking, and running around chasing after their masters excitedly.

Little boys were dressed in their gray uniforms and proudly waved the Stars and Bars of the Confederate States of America flag.  Many of the boys carried brooms or ax handles as makeshift rifles. The little girls clung to their mother’s dresses. 

A cheer rose from the crowd as men from Company C, 17
th
Regiment, South Carolina Infantry marched onto the depot platform. They were one of fourteen infantry companies formed in the county after the outbreak of war.

The big steam engine huffed and puffed sending steam, black smoke, ash and cinders across the platform.  The crowd paid no attention. The sound of its shrill whistle drowned out the sounds of the band.

It was a festive occasion.  Now that the men of Company C, with their motto, “Defenders of Right, were entering the fray, they would make short work of those who had camped at Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor.  Many were promising to be home for the spring planting of cotton.

It was not to be.

When war was declared, there were 4,379 white males in the county.  In this 4,379, 805 would be killed in action, with hundreds more wounded.  As a result, during the war the York District would have the highest death rate of any county in South Carolina. Very few of the casualties would occur on York District soil, as only one minor battle was fought in the York District, the battle for the Catawba Bridge at Nation’s Ford in 1865.

Among the crowd that day was Sarah Hutchison, and her two year old daughter, Rebecca.  They were there to see their husband and father, Corporal John Hutchison off to war. 

This is the story of the struggle of Sarah and Rebecca Hutchison as they try to survive…

The men of the 17
th
South Carolina Infantry Regiment, Company C saw little action around the Charleston area.  Notice of an intended troop movement was given to the officers of Company C.  The officers, like most of the men in the company, were farmers and it was time to plant the seeds for the new cotton crop.  Most of the men returned to Yorkville to get their crops in.  After all, the war would soon be over and the farm work had to be done.

John Hutchison was among those returning for the planting.  The Hutchison family had never kept slaves, preferring to do the farm work themselves.  When the cotton had been picked last fall, John had turned the soil over covering the plants.  This spring it was fairly easy to get it ready for planting.  He turned the soil once again, then he, and his wife, Sarah planted the cotton seeds.  Dragging a harrow over the seeds to put a light cover of soil completed the task, now all that was needed was for the good Lord to send the life giving rain.

The third week in March, Company C returned to the war, and headed north to the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia, leaving the wives and children behind to wait and wonder.  Casualty lists were posted at the depot as they came in, so it was a regular event for the families to check the lists.

Sarah was the only child of Nathan and Sarah Walters, also cotton farmers.  She had been watching cotton grow her entire life.  With John gone, it fell to her to keep the farm going. Cotton, once planted, is a low maintenance crop.  Sarah devoted a lot of time and attention to her garden.  She cultivated the garden, and grew the vegetables she served at her table. She fed the chickens and gathered the eggs.  Sarah was accustomed to the farm chores, and accepted them as her lot in life. She also took care of the milking and feeding of the cow, tasks normally performed by her husband.  She let the cow out to pasture in the morning and brought her back in each night.

June, July and August of 1862 passed without incident.  There were no Yankee incursions in their area.  There was nothing about the unit posted at the depot. 

Sarah eyed the bolls of cotton as they began to mature.  It wouldn’t be too much longer before it would be picking time.  Cotton couldn’t be allowed  to remain in the fields after it was fully matured.  A big rain might ruin the entire crop.  The sale of the cotton sustained the farm. 

In late September, a casualty list was posted at the train station.  Sarah scanned it carefully, but John’s name was not among those listed as dead.  She continued reading past those killed and was stunned to find… 
John’s name.  There’s John’s name and he’s been hurt. At least he’s alive.  Some of the wounded are back home, and don’t have to go back.  Maybe, just maybe…

October…

I need to get the cotton picked,
Sarah thought. She hitched their mule to the wagon, and along with the help of a neighbor, she began the difficult job of picking of cotton, dragging the bags filled with cotton to the ends of the rows where they could be loaded into the wagon.

Sitting at the table one evening, her hands cracked and sore from the hulls, she thought,
I
don’t think we’re going to make it.  I’ve got to see if there’s any way Papa can help. 
The next morning, she and Rebecca hitched the mule and rode to the Walters’ homeplace. 

She had told her father when she received the news of John’s being wounded, but had no further news.  She said, “Papa, I’m picking from sunup to sundown, but we’re not going to be able to get it in.  I’m afraid it might get ruined when the rains come.

“How close are you to getting yours picked?  Can you help us when you finish?”

“I think I’ve got maybe another week left.  I’ll come over for a couple of days and help,” he said.

“That will be great Papa.  I’m going to the Hutchison’s and see if they can help too.  Maybe we can still save most of it.”  Two weeks later, with the help of her father and one of his workers and the help from her in-laws, the crop was in, loaded into the wagon and taken to the gin where it was processed, weighed and baled. 

There was a strong demand for cotton, so she got a good price for her crop.  It was enough to sustain them until next spring when John would be back to get the seeds planted again.

With no news from the fighting in Virginia, Sarah checked for the posting of new casualty lists.  The fourteenth of October, she and Rebecca had gone to the depot to check the list posted the previous day.  On the list under Company C, she found the name; Corporal John Hutchison, and the notation DOW.  The legend at the bottom told the story.  DOW meant “Died Of Wounds.” 

John is dead.  He won’t be coming back.  Ever
.  She leaned against the rough wooden wall for support. 

“What’s wrong, Mama?  You crying?” asked her now three year old daughter. 

She hugged her daughter tightly.  “Your Papa’s dead.  He won’t be coming back to us,” she said.  “We need to go tell both of your Grandmas and Grandpas.”

In the middle of November, a frail looking man wearing the tattered remnants of a Confederate uniform came to her door.  “Miss Sarah,” he said.  “You might not know me, my name is Martin Sandler.  I had a place down to King’s Creek.”

“I can’t say as I recollect knowing you, Mr. Sandler,” she said.

“I thought you might not.  I just wanted to stop and tell you, I was with John when he died.  I was wounded in the same battle at Warrenton, Virginia as John was.  A minnie ball hit him in the leg and shattered it.  It got infected and all.  They cut off the leg but couldn’t save him.  I was hit in the shoulder and it ruined my right arm, and I couldn’t fight anymore, so they let me go.

“I just wanted to let you know.  John talked about you and your girl all of the time.  He worried about you and getting in the crops and all.  Miss Sarah, he didn’t suffer none at the end.  He was out of his head and didn’t know where he was.  I’m real proud to have known him.  He was a fine man.”  He turned to go, “I guess I better be getting on down the road.  I’m on my way home.  It’s taken me over a month just to get this far.”

“Won’t you come in and have a bite to eat with us, Mr. Sandler?  We don’t have much, just the vegetables, but you’re more than welcome to share.”

“I’m much obliged, ma’am.  I been kind of living off the land, and sleeping in barns, and sometimes, the pickings is slim.”

“Why don’t you stay here for a few days and get fed and rested up, Mr. Sandler?”

“I thank ye for the meal ma’am, but it’s been so long, I just want to go home,” he said.

“I understand.  I’ll fix you some biscuits and molasses to take with you.  God bless you for taking the time to tell us about John,” she said.  She went into her bedroom, lay across the bed and cried…