A Bride for Ransom

by Wendy May Andrews

  Dear Ransom,

  The children are getting along well together, which is a relief. Scott told Brent it was his responsibility to be a good big brother and the boy has really taken to the role. They are at peace and Brent seems to be a little less restless than he was. But now I feel that it is time that I try to get all three children to start talking about their respective parents. I wish there was someone more mature and responsible around to help with this. I wish there was more of a parental figure than just me for them. It feels too huge for me. What if I don’t do it right? I wish you could answer me.

  Hannah sighed, putting down her pen. She wanted to crumple up the paper and start again but she had vowed to not waste the paper, so she needed to continue. Besides, he ought to know what sort of inadequacies she was dealing with. It might motivate him to come home. Or it might make him stay away, she thought with a rueful grin. Either way, he would know what he was in for.

  Anyhow, whatever I decide, they start school on Monday and there are varying degrees of excitement in the house. Francine is almost beside herself. I’m not sure if it’s entirely for school, though. I managed to make her some new dresses. That was an entire ordeal in itself. I thought it would be easy since I know how to do needlepoint. That was self-deception of the worst sort, I must tell you. But the fabric is very pretty and I managed not to lose too much blood in the process, and the dear child is delighted with the end results. I think a large part of her excitement is the fact that I managed to make her hair ribbons to match each new dress. She is a dear.

  Maryanne is cautiously excited about school. For her, the new clothing is a walk on the opposite side of fashion from what she is used to, so she is desperately hoping that our trunks arrive soon. I finally gave in and wired my housekeeper in Boston to send the children’s clothes. It makes no sense to leave it there since they will outgrow it before there is a chance to return. I just hope Uncle Jason wasn’t watching the house, lest he find out our direction. The staff knows to be discrete but it wouldn’t be difficult to see trunks being loaded into a carriage, even from the street.

  Brent, on the other hand, is dreading it. I have tried to assure him that his plants will be just fine without him to watch them throughout the day. He has done a wonderful job of keeping the weeds at bay and I daresay they can’t do much damage with so little time left in the growing season. But as he so succinctly pointed out, I don’t know what I’m talking about. He’s perfectly correct. I never tried to grow anything in my life. There was a staff member assigned to keeping any plants in the house or on the grounds alive. But thankfully for Brent’s education, Scott backed me up and agreed that the garden would be perfectly fine if Brent went to school. Who would have thought the city-bred twelve-year-old would take to country life so soundly? Now I’m beginning to fear I’ll never be able to get him to return East for university. But I’ll cross that bridge later. For now, whatever it takes to get him to go to any school is worth it. The boy needs to know more than he already does, despite the fact that he thinks he knows everything already. Were you like that as a boy? I’m sure you were a handful then if you’re still the sort who needs adventure. I hope it’s coming along well and that you are safe.

  Take care,

  Hannah

  ***

  Ransom read the latest letter from his wife and his heart clenched. The young woman was a delight. She was trying so very hard to accomplish everything. He really ought to be there with her, making it at least a little bit easier for her. He should send her a telegram and demand she spend his money and hire someone to do the chores.

  When he thought of how beautiful she was when she stepped off the train, it caused his heart to clench and his stomach to hurt at the thought of her doing manual labor. Her hands had probably never felt a callous in their entire life. Now she was probably losing a layer of skin after that laundry episode. Or rather, it had probably grown back by now, since it took so long for him to get his mail. He ought to go check more frequently but he really was trying to get everything done quickly so that he could return to his family.

  Ransom laughed as his gaze travelled over the wilderness that surrounded him. He was sitting on an outcropping of rock. From his vantage point, all he could see were mountains and trees. Normally this was his favorite spot on earth. He had even envisioned building a house here. But now, all he wanted to do was get back to Nebraska and see what Hannah was doing to his house. He could just imagine that it must smell and look differently from what he knew. With four people living in it, it must even sound differently.

  He chuckled, thinking of a story she had written him about burning an entire meal. That would certainly have affected the scent of the house. He admired her fortitude when she had handed each of the children an apple while she had Scott hitch up the wagon. They went to the bakery in the village and demanded meat pies, even though the shop had already closed for the day. He was just relieved, for their sake, that the bakery still had something left from the day. And really, the baker should have been glad to sell her what was left over. He wouldn’t have been able to get much for it the next day. He laughed to remember that she said the children now occasionally hoped that she burnt the meal since she didn’t yet know how to make meat pies herself. Ransom figured that by now she had probably taught herself. His mouth actually watered at the thought of her cooking. He had only had one meal cooked by her, and it wasn’t even that good. But he was learning from her letters what a determined little thing she was, and he was certain that she was teaching herself to be a good cook.

  With a sigh, Ransom forced himself back to his feet. He couldn’t just leave his claim such as it was. He needed to get at least a little bit more work done. Then he would either board it up and hope for the best through the winter or he would hire help to work it as much as possible, depending on the severity of the winter. He was leaning toward just boarding it up. Still, no one had realized that he had actually struck a vein, so he should be fine to leave it alone again. But then he would have to come out in the spring, leaving his family behind once again.

  The good part about that prospect was the fact that even though whenever he read her letters or thought about Hannah he wanted to be with her, the thought of settling down and being domesticated usually gave him hives. So, if he “had” to return to Oregon in the spring, it would give him a way out, something to look forward to through the winter, if being a family man proved to be too much for his interests. While he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on and he was half in love with her from reading her letters, he had never had a desire to settle down to family life. He had only married her for Francine’s sake.

  As he worked, Ransom thought about what his expectations had been when he wrote to Fred and how very different the reality had turned out to be. He still remembered the thought process as he had discussed it with Scott.

  “I can’t take Francine with me back to Oregon. How could I work and keep an eye on a little girl?”

  “You could just put her into an orphanage, couldn’t you?”

  Ransom’s response had bordered on violent. “I am never going to allow my niece to go to an orphan home!”

  “Sorry, boss, it was just an idea.”

  “It was a bad idea.” Ransom should’ve told Scott why his suggestion caused such a strong reaction in him, but he just couldn’t.

  “What about asking one of the neighbors to take her in? I’m sure they’d be glad to do it. You could even offer to pay them a little something for their trouble.”

  “I don’t want the girl to feel like a boarder, like she doesn’t belong. I need a family for her. She’s just a little girl and she’s lost everything. It’s bad enough the poor thing has been saddled with me as her guardian. I can’t leave her to the tender mercies of strangers.”

  “But isn’t that what you’re proposing to do, anyway? If you send for a bride and then leave as soon as she arrives, you’ll still be leaving the girl with a stranger.”


  “But it’ll be a stranger she belongs to, just like me. I’m pretty much a stranger to her, too, but she knows she belongs to me. It makes a difference.”

  “If you say so, boss.” Ransom could hear the skepticism in Scott’s voice but ignored it.

  “You’ll see. Fred will send me some matronly widow who is thrilled at the chance to mother my poor orphaned niece. She’ll be so grateful for my large house, she won’t mind that I go off to Oregon. Perhaps she’ll be one of those women who don’t much care for men and she’ll actually be delighted that I’m leaving. It’ll be perfect.”

  Ransom laughed over the memory as he chipped away at the rock surrounding his gold, being careful not to damage the precious ore. He had not gotten what he had expected, that was for certain. The beautiful, young, elegant stranger in his house was so far from the grateful matron he had thought would step off the train. Fred hadn’t mentioned her age when he had wired that a woman with two children was on her way as his wife. Fred must’ve had a great laugh when he thought of what his reaction would be. Ransom thought he ought to punch the man right in the face. What had he thought he was going to do with such a lovely companion? Ransom thought he had been clear that he needed to return to Oregon.

  Of course, Hannah occasionally mentioned her Uncle Jason and the need for him not to know her whereabouts. However Fred knew Hannah, it would seem he was aware of her situation and the need to hide her identity. Once again, Ransom berated himself for not finding out more about his wife before he left Nebraska. It hurt his stomach to think that she might be in danger. He tried to soothe himself with the reminder that she had Scott there and he had also taught her how to shoot. He thought with amusement about her description of her steadily increasing prowess with the gun and her disgust that Brent was quickly becoming far better at it.

  I think it will have to be Brent’s responsibility to provide the protection, since his aim is so much better than mine. He can shoot the knots out of your fence posts! I’m still happy if I can hit the produce sitting on the top. But of course, I can’t expect that of my twelve-year-old little brother, no matter how much he thinks he’s the man of the house. And besides, he’ll be at school all day soon enough. So, we both are learning.

  It struck him as strange that she was so determined that her brother and sister maintain as normal a childhood as possible, or at least normal from her perspective, of course, but she never wrote any complaints about how drastically her life had changed. The closest she had come was in one of her first letters.

  The other debutantes would never recognize me if they ran into me on the street now, even though my clothes haven’t changed. Well, they have, in fact, changed, because I’ve laundered them and I don’t have nearly the skill that the laundress from home was known to possess. For one thing, I will admit to you freely, I despise pressing the clothes. Have you any idea why fabric wrinkles up so terribly? It isn’t so bad if there’s a good breeze while they’re drying, I’ve discovered. But still, the pressing is the worst. Doing all the laundry for the four of us takes me days! Of course, that is probably because I wait until we have nothing clean left. But still. It’s a dreadful chore. Anyhow, back to my unrecognizability. Even my hair has changed. I don’t know why. Water is water, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have thought that my active thoughts would show themselves through my hair, but that is Maryanne’s theory. She says I’m thinking too much and that’s why my hair doesn’t want to sit smoothly like it used to. I’ve thought of trying to press it, but I’m terrified of having the hot iron so close to my face. I’m not willing to pay that high a price for vanity. So I will tell you now, your wife has frizzy hair.

  Ransom had trouble picturing her with wrinkled clothing and frizzy hair. He wondered if it was as bad as she described or if it really was her vanity speaking. He would see for himself whenever he finally returned. He wondered if she would welcome him home. She was continuing to write to him, which he took as a good sign. He wondered if she was doing it more as an outlet for her feelings or to make herself remember she had a husband. She had told him in one of her letters that it was a good outlet for her. Almost like a diary, he thought with a smile. Her letters had become more frequent. There were always at least two or three, maybe even more, whenever he went into the post office to check. It seemed as though her postage was her one extravagance. He wondered if she were writing to anyone else besides him. She had mentioned that she had written to the housekeeper. But maybe, since she was so carefully trying to avoid her uncle, she couldn’t write to anyone else for fear of him finding her.

  Loneliness had begun to assail Ransom. The only company he had were her letters. He admired her spirit and her fearlessness. It motivated him to work harder. It was as though she were his companion inside his head. He wondered if his letters were doing the same for her. It was like they were growing together, becoming stronger through each other’s struggles.

  Ransom struck harder as he shook his head from the fanciful thoughts. He had found so much gold in this vein that he wondered if the bank would even buy it all from him. They were unused to such large quantities. Besides the fact that he still didn’t want word to get out about his find. He would have to take it all with him and sell it at a bank further away so they wouldn’t know where he had found it. That would run the risk of it being undervalued, but he doubted it. As long as he went to a reputable bank, he should be able to get the full value. And then he would have all the money his bride might need to hire whichever staff members she might like. He would insist, if she refused.

  Ransom strongly doubted any of his neighbors would care. In fact, he was almost certain at least some of them had hired help of their own. It was only reasonable. Why should the man have help on the land while the woman had to do all the work inside the house by herself? Especially when there was more than enough money to ensure she didn’t have to work her fingers to the bone.

  Although, from the tone of her letters, Ransom had the impression that his wife was beginning to enjoy some of her chores. Or perhaps, it was more likely that it was the sense of accomplishment those chores were giving her that she was enjoying. He didn’t think she would ever come to love doing the laundry, but she seemed to enjoy when the task was finished and she could congratulate herself on a job well done. Even the time when she had scorched an iron-shaped mark onto the back of her brother’s shirt. He chuckled to recall how proud she had been for her foresight.

  I had figured there was a chance of my burning something so I have been pressing everything inside out just in case. Since I have no intention of buying him new shirts until he outgrows these ones, I’m relieved that it isn’t ruined completely. Brent grumbled a little bit, but really, it’s barely noticeable. He won’t wear that shirt to school, but I don’t want him wearing his school clothes out in the barn, anyway, so it hardly matters, right?

  Ransom enjoyed her tendency to always look on the bright side. He marveled at her thrifty ways. He was coming to understand more clearly what a privileged background she came from, so it struck him as strange that she was so determined to save her pennies. She must associate accessing her money with the risk of her uncle finding her. And he suspected she hadn’t even visited the bank to assess how much money he had left for her. Or she was intimidated at the thought of spending his money. He rejected that thought. His Hannah wasn’t intimidated by anything. Maybe she was just practicing how to be thrifty in case they needed that skill in the future. Or who knows how the female brain worked? While he was enjoying getting to know her through her letters, Ransom wasn’t such a big fool as to believe that he could truly know her in this way. He would need to spend time with her in person to really know the woman.

  Chapter Ten

  Hannah pulled back her shoulders and raised her chin, bracing herself for meeting the children’s teacher. Then she chided herself. There was no need for all this concern. She needn’t explain herself. She would be contributing, just like all the other parents. In fact, one could argue
the teacher was working for her. And she didn’t owe him any more information than she wanted to give him.

  “Good afternoon,” she called out as she stepped into the schoolhouse.

  “Well, hello,” answered the young man standing at the front of the room.

  Hannah could feel her face heating from the appreciative expression on the man’s face. She quickly introduced herself and then bit her lip to stifle her amusement as his face fell slightly. “I’m Mrs. Hannah Delaney.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Bradley Smith,” he answered with a polite tone. “How can I help you?”

  “I wanted to speak to you about three of the students who will be coming for classes next week. One started here in the spring and the other two have just moved to town.”

  The man glanced down at his list of students and looked back at her with a puzzled frown. “You surely can’t be the mother of any of my students.”

  “Yes, I am. Francine Delaney enrolled in April. And Brent and Maryanne Delaney will be starting here next week, too. Brent is twelve and Maryanne is ten. They are both quite good students, but I suppose I will leave that up to you to assess.” Hannah kept her tone firm and maintained eye contact, and hoped like crazy that the color rising in her cheeks didn’t reveal her discomfort.

  The teacher still looked skeptical but he dutifully wrote the names down on his list.

  “Besides making sure you were aware of all three children coming, I wanted to check with you to see what they need to bring with them on the first day.”