by Jenna Brandt
Waiting on Your Response,
Mallet Thorne
“What’s that letter about, Mr. Holt? Is everything all right?” Joseph asked with curiosity mixed with a hint of concern.
“It seems I might have another business opportunity in Oregon. I may leave earlier than anticipated. In the meantime, I need to respond to this right away,” Harrison stated, shaking the letter in the air. “I’ll get something ready to send.”
He sprinted back up the stairs and went into the brickyard’s office. He took a seat behind the desk, pulled out a piece of paper, and penned his reply. He would have it messengered over since he suspected that the telegraph office was either destroyed or not up in running due to the fire.
Mr. Mallet,
I will look into your town’s situation and see what I can do. Providing bricks from my Idaho Falls yard will be feasible, but might have a better solution. Once I have more definitive information, we can discuss. I will make an immediate trip to Silverpines. Please let Braylon Watts know I will be in town shortly.
Harrison Holt
He quickly folded the paper and placed it in his pocket. As he walked the short distance to the telegraph office, he thought about his past with his old friend.
Braylon became Harrison’s friend when they were older. They met during their second year at university when they attended the same social and found themselves interested in the same girl. They vied for her attention, asking her to dance and bringing her punch and cake. When she ended up picking a third man instead of one of them, they consoled each other with a drink and ear, turning rivalry into friendship.
Harrison was looking forward to seeing his old friend, though he wished it was under better circumstances. He prayed his plan to help Silverpines would work out, and that soon the town would be getting back on its feet.
Chapter Two
Willa looked over the documents in front of her. It had taken her several days just to get everything sorted in her papa’s office. Then another couple to figure out what was important, and what it meant.
Nothing was how it had been before she left. Bills, letters, and official agreements had been scattered everywhere, like someone had torn through the office like a madman. The rest of the house hardly fared better.
Grandma tried to keep up with the chores, but at seventy-two years old, she didn’t move as good as she used to. Arthur had been busy trying to manage planting what little seeds they had for the spring crops.
The more she inspected how things were, the worse she felt for ever leaving. She had been selfish, leaving them all to fend for themselves. Now, it was her job to clean up the mess made by her absence.
Three years ago, her papa took out a loan to cover the purchase of the last section of the farm. He used the rest of the farm as collateral and had opted to go with the bank in New Harbor because they offered a lower rate than the Silverpines State Bank. From what she could make of the ledger, payments had been steady until her brother died. Then her papa missed a payment, but quickly caught up. After her mama passed away, payments became sporadic and then stopped altogether two months ago.
It wasn’t surprising a debt collector had been sent to the farm. The loan was so far behind. She had no idea how they could make it up, especially with the winter crops being destroyed by the blizzard, and little money left to plant new ones.
The farm was financially floundering, and she had no idea how to save it. What were they going to do? What was she going to do?
“Is everything all right in here?” she heard her grandma ask from the hallway. “Do you need anything, dear?”
“I’m fine, Grandma,” Willa replied. “Just trying to figure out what to do.”
Her grandma shuffled into the room, then sat in the chair across from Willa. She looked up at the elderly woman and noted the dark circles under her eyes. It only made the wrinkles and white hair stand out more in contrast.
A little over a week later, the whole town was still dealing with the aftermath of the fire. The damage had been catastrophic with many injuries and loss.
Sadly, Fanny Mae, the town’s elderly matron, had passed silently in her sleep while her beloved Silverpines burned. The funeral had been a few days ago. It had been a beautiful tribute with all the townsfolk attending.
Willa’s grandma was still reeling from her dear friend’s death. “It’s hard growing old, Willa. I don’t recommend it. I’m on the old side of old. Everyone I’ve known is slowly leaving me. First your grandpa, then your brother, followed by your mama and the baby, and now sweet Fanny Mae.”
Willa’s grandma and Fanny Mae had been close; sharing a weekly tea time where they talked about town happenings. They also volunteered at different church events, and started a knitting club together.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Grandma. I know how much you cared for her.”
The older woman nodded her head. “She was a kind, good woman, and she will be sorely missed.” Leaning across the desk, the older woman asked, “Can I help?”
“Thank you for the offer, but unless you know of a way to get the farm a huge influx of money right away, I’m not sure what can be done.”
“We just need to pray,” her grandma suggested. “God will make a way.”
Willa believed in God as much as the next person, but she also knew sometimes you could pray as hard as you could, and the answer wasn’t always what you wanted. She’d learned that lesson when Mama was sick. Never had she prayed so hard for anything in her whole life, but Mama and the baby didn’t make it.
She‘d been angry in the beginning, even had been tempted to blame God, but in the end, her faith was the only thing that comforted her. Willa held onto it to keep from drowning in grief, and when she came out the other side, she found her faith was deeper than ever before.
“Too bad you don’t have a husband, Willa. If you did, maybe he could help.” Then a small smile formed on her grandma’s face as she said, “You know, there is one option we haven’t considered.”
Willa perked up and looked over at her grandma expectantly. “What’s that? I’m open to anything that could help.”
“Well, over the last year, ever since the earthquake and mudslide, the women in town had been writing to the Groom’s Gazette.”
Willa nodded. “I remember. It’s how Tonya and Maude got their husbands.” Then scrunching up her face in distaste, she added, “But before you even suggest it, the idea of placing an advertisement to find a husband isn’t something I’m interested in.”
“I understand that it’s not terribly romantic, but we’re desperate Willa,” her grandma stated with sadness in her eyes. “If I was younger, I’d place an ad myself, but believe me, no groom is looking for a seventy-two year old bride.”
“Even if I placed an ad, what would I say? I need a rich man to marry me and give me his money to save my family’s farm? What man in his right mind would agree to that?” Willa asked with skepticism.
“I wouldn’t put it exactly like that, but you’d be surprised what could happen if you make the effort,” her grandma said, before standing up and heading towards the door. “Just think about it, Willa.”
Once the older woman was gone, Willa looked down at the papers in front of her. Try as she might, she couldn’t concentrate on them. Her grandma’s words kept floating back into her mind.
Willa pulled out a stack of paper and a pen, but for several moments, all she could do was stare at the cream paper standing out starkly against the pine desk.
She tried to recall the details of the different adverts she had seen in the personal section of the newspaper, but the details were hazy. Why hadn’t she paid better attention? It was simple. She had secretly always dreamed of a love match. The idea of ordering a husband like a meal at a restaurant made her skin crawl, but she was desperate. She couldn’t be choosy if she wanted to help her family.
She dipped the tip of her pen into the ink pot and scrolled:
Young woman of nineteen years, wit
h dark brown hair and eyes, petite stature, and fair skin, in search of a husband with a substantial income.
She didn’t like how that sounded. It made her sound like an opportunist. She rephrased the last part of the sentence.
in need of a husband with means.
That was slightly better. She wished there was a better way of phrasing it, but nothing else surfaced. She decided to move on. What else did she care about? Absent-mindedly, Willa tapped her fingers on the top of the desk as she considered her options for a moment. She decided physical appearance didn’t matter as much as character. She added to her advert:
Must be Godly, fair, and of sound mind. All others need not apply.
Regards,
Willa Brown
Though she figured the advert was the best way, and quite honestly, perhaps her only way to attract a rich husband, she wondered if she could do it? Would it even work? Was there such a thing as a rich man who was Godly? Most of the men she had met that had means came by it either dishonestly or by being ruthless. Could she be with a man like that? And what if she placed the advert, and no one responded? How embarrassing would that be once everyone found out? And they would once Widow Wallace, the postmistress saw her letter. She would be the laughingstock of Silverpines. The one woman who couldn’t attract a husband through the Groom’s Gazette.
Frustrated with her options, she folded the paper and stuffed it in the top drawer of the desk. She would look at it another day.
Her hand brushed her journal, which she pulled out from habit. Writing her feelings down would help. She flipped it open, but before she put pen to paper, she found the letter from Georgie Caldwell, the brother of her best friend, Lydia, back in Rockwood Springs.
My Dearest Willa,
I’m sorry that you had to go home. Lydia explained the situation, and I understand you feel responsible. Your loyalty is one of the attributes I admire most about you. Though what attracts me most to you is your enchanting smile, your gorgeous chocolate eyes, and thick brown hair. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to let my fingers run through those luxurious locks. Once you slid past me at church, causing one of your curls to tickle my cheek. I could only imagine how it would feel to have my hands completely immersed in their soft, warmth. I imagine it would feel like the warmest blanket, completely perfect in every way.
Willa stopped reading for a moment, the words still made her blush, even after the half dozen times she had read them. George sure did have a way with words, which made him all the more charming. Coupled with his handsome looks, George would have been difficult to resist, but he had made his affection known too late.
She hadn’t expected him to show up at the train station though, and profess his love, shoving a goodbye letter filled with confessions of his affection. By the time she read it on the train, it was too late to let him know that she too had wondered if something could happen between them.
I understand you have to leave, but know, I will be here waiting for you when you return.
Your ever devoted admirer,
Georgie
Her heart lurched at the last words. Ever devoted admirer. Though the words came from a man that was no longer an option for her, she wondered could she be happy with a man that was more a business arrangement than a love match?
If she did send off an advert for a husband, would she forever give up on the chance to be with a man who felt that way about her? A man who fit what she needed and loved her all at the same time? It was beginning to seem, if she were to commit to doing her duty as a daughter, she would be giving up any chance at true love.
Pushing the troubling thoughts away, Willa tucked the letter back into her journal. Though things were over with Georgie, it didn’t mean she couldn’t keep his love letter as a memento of what could have been. She placed the journal back in the desk drawer, knowing it was safe from prying eyes in here rather than her room. Her brother, Arthur, was strictly forbidden from setting foot in their papa’s office.
Realizing she needed to respond, but not wanting to correspond directly with Georgie, she decided it would be easier to send a letter to her best friend.
Dear Lydia,
I’ve arrived safely in Silverpines. I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner, but the situation with my family is far worse than first anticipated. It seems my temporary stay here will be turning into a permanent one. Please give my best to your whole family—especially Georgie—and know, I will miss you.
With all my love,
Willa
She sealed the letter in the envelope, then addressed it to her friend. She would take it to the Widow Wallace first thing in the morning. For now, she needed to figure out what she was going to do about the farm.
It was two full days of travel between Idaho Falls and Silverpines, and Harrison was exhausted from the trip. Though he had his own private suite, it didn’t keep the noise from the rowdy, single men traveling out west for jobs and the crying children from bleeding through the walls. Harrison had wondered why he didn’t just order a private stagecoach to take him to Silverpines, but remembered that trains were faster. He could sense the urgency in Mr. Thorne’s letter, and with two friends in a dire situation, Harrison wanted to get to Silverpines as quickly as possible.
As he climbed down the steps of the train, he looked around and found a young man standing a few feet away. He was lanky, with black hair and eyes, set in a tan complexion.
The young man nodded towards Harrison’s bags. “Would you like me to take those to the hotel for you, Mr. Holt?”
Harrison’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. How the devil did the young man know who he was?
“It seems you know my name. What’s yours?” he asked, hoping to make the boy comfortable enough to reveal how he came by his identity.
“Marty Gale, sir. So, do you want me to take those bags then?” he asked a second time.
“Yes, but before you take them to the local hotel, can you explain how you know who I am.”
The young man stared at him with wide eyes without blinking or saying a word. When he didn’t answer, Harrison added, “I’m assuming there is a reason, not that you’re clairvoyant,” Harrison stated with agitation as he crossed his arms.
The words spilled from the boy’s lips, rushed by fear he had upset Harrison. “I was at the post office sending a letter off, when I overheard the postmistress, Widow Wallace, tell another customer that Harrison Holt, the brickyard tycoon, was coming to Silverpines to help with the reconstruction. Everyone in town is talking about it. From your attire and your arrival time, I assumed it was you. We can hardly believe—”
Harrison raised his hand and narrowed his eyes, immediately silencing the young man. “Thank you, Marty. You can take my luggage to the hotel now.”
Though Harrison could have asked to stay with his friend, Braylon, he wanted the freedom to be able to come and go as he pleased while conducting his business in town. Harrison thought it best if he stayed at the local inn rather than impose on his friend.
Marty nodded his head, then continued to keep his eyes averted as he snatched up the bags. He was gone as quick as he came.
So much for the element of surprise. Apparently, the whole town knew he was arriving. Harrison wondered how much they knew about him. He had hoped to come to Silverpines being the only one who had done their research. He suspected, however, based on what Marty just told him, that wasn’t the case.
Harrison had done his research of the area through a proxy private investigator from a neighboring town. He wired a list of questions to find out how bad the damage from the fire had been, a detailed description of the layout of the town before and after, and a list of what could be salvaged and what needed complete reconstruction.
Once he had that information, he had his private investigator look into the townspeople and the properties in the area. Once he had the information, he looked at several options for his brickyard, but he had narrowed it down to two areas that would work best. He needed h
is yard either at the far east or west side of town near the rail line.
After further information was obtained by his investigator, Harrison realized that the area between the warehouses and the recently built zoo, though unaffected by the fire, wouldn’t be large enough, which only left the far west side. That land belonged to the Brown family. He figured it would be easy to get them to agree to sell him a section of their land, considering the farm was in trouble.
A third of the land was mortgaged with months of outstanding payments. He could offer to buy a portion for his yard, and if they used the money right, there was a chance they could save the rest of the farm.
Harrison planned to introduce himself around town tomorrow, then make his way out to the farm first thing Monday morning to talk to the owner, Cyrus Brown. He would have to see if his plans needed adjusting, considering what just happened.
Harrison moved down the platform and turned the corner at the end of the building. A few moments later, he was thick in the town’s middle that had been destroyed by the fire.
Off his memory, Harrison remembered if he went straight up 4th Street, he would end up at the Silverpines Inn, the only hotel in town. The path also gave visual confirmation of the damage he was already aware of from the reports. It was indeed catastrophic. Building after building was burnt down to the studs. Little remained as the townspeople must have been busy removing the rubble to prepare for the rebuild.
Harrison shook his head, saddened by all the devastation he saw around him. Little of the business district had been spared, which meant the town must be limping along, minimally functioning as best as possible. He wondered what he could do to help. He never had to work under these type of circumstances, but he was always ready to take on a new challenge.