by Ruby Hill
She had never loved Mr. Hayward the way that she had dreamed she would love her husband as a girl. Yet, she had been mindful of her duty and did her best to be a good wife, mostly to avoid his rampages.
Rebecca took off the plain, gold band that he had placed on her finger on their wedding day and put it in the box with his watch and the two gold coins. Then she put the box back into a chest her father had once given her. Finally, she fell to her knees and prayed. During her years with her husband, and now after his death, God was her only comfort.
2
Mrs. Allen woke early the next morning to prepare breakfast. Her nerves had gotten the best of her. Mrs. Allen was counting on Rebecca moving in with her family after Mr. Hayward’s death so she could rent out the room and earn an income. She just couldn’t bring herself to put that woman out on the streets. Rebecca’s short life had already been filled with so much pain.
When Mr. Hayward brought Rebecca home, Mrs. Allen was shocked to learn that this young, beautiful girl was Mr. Hayward’s new wife. She cried for Rebecca when she heard Mr. Hayward scream, and at times, hit Rebecca. She wanted to kick them out of the room they rented from her, but she pitied Rebecca, so she allowed them to stay. Mrs. Allen felt that she could offer some level of protection for the terrified young woman.
Rebecca had promised to get a job now that her husband was dead, but Mrs. Weber knew getting a job wouldn’t be easy for Rebecca. Jobs were in short supply—especially for women. The Reverend Davis would soon be coming by to check on Rebecca, so Mrs. Allen planned to seek his guidance.
* * *
The sun shone through the gap in Rebecca’s curtains. She got out of bed and opened the window, letting the warmth from the sun give her comfort. The new morning calmed her anxiety, and as she started out the window, she almost forgot her troubles. She put her hand up to touch the gold cross on her neck. The cross her mother had given her was the one item that she refused to sell. It was her last connection to her mother.
As she walked downstairs, Rebecca heard Mrs. Allen speaking to a man. As he continued to talk, Rebecca recognized the voice of Reverend Davis.
Rebecca entered the room, and Reverend Davis stood up from the breakfast table to greet her. Mrs. Allen smiled and offered Rebecca some porridge and coffee.
Rebecca sat down at the table with Reverend Davis, and Mrs. Allen soon joined them. Reverend Davis led the trio in prayer as he blessed the food.
“Mrs. Allen,” said Rebecca, “I’m so grateful for all of your kindness. Please know that I am going to look for factory work today. As soon as I can earn enough money, I will repay you all of the rent that we owe you.”
“Rebecca, dear, consider your debts paid,” said Mrs. Allen, grabbing Rebecca’s hand. “I think finding factory work is a fine idea, but Reverend Davis might have a better solution.”
Rebecca looked at Reverend Davis, intrigued. She didn’t want to get a job in a factory, and her heart fluttered with excitement that another opportunity might be available to her.
Reverend Davis saw this as his opportunity to broach his intended subject. “Have you ever considered moving out west?”
Rebecca stared at the reverend, confused.
He went on, “There are a lot of fine, Christian men who live out west that are looking for wives. You could start a new life for yourself, Mrs. Hayward. It would give you the opportunity to marry a man who has land and is looking for good women to help run his home.”
Rebecca felt her spirits plummet even further into a deep sadness. She had been hoping that the reverend would offer a position at the church. “Reverend Davis, thank you for the offer, but I’ve never traveled outside of New York, and I don’t have the means to move,” said Rebecca, disappointed. “Besides, what if I end up with another man like Mr. Hayward?”
Mrs. Allen saw the disappointment on Rebecca’s face. “Rebecca, you can always stay here. You have a home with me.”
Rebecca felt guilty. Mrs. Allen was not family, and she did not want to increase the hardships of the elderly woman any longer than necessary. She didn’t have any money to move, but she also knew that she couldn’t stay with Mrs. Allen for very long. She would have to consider the reverend’s suggestion.
“Thank you, Mrs. Allen, but I think I owe it to you to hear what the reverend has to say,” smiled Rebecca.
Reverend Davis continued, “There’s a paper where you can place an ad. Men looking for wives will respond if they’re interested. This is an honest way to find a husband, Rebecca. I will let you think about it, and if you decide you want to do it, I will help you with the ad.”
“Thank you, Reverend,” said Rebecca. The prospect of advertising for a husband was ridiculous and very unlikely to produce a happy marriage.
They finished breakfast, and the reverend left, while Rebecca helped Mrs. Allen wash the dishes.
Mrs. Allen said, “I want you to think about what Reverend Davis said. If you decide you want to stay here and get a job in a factory, so be it. But, take a few days to rest and figure out what you want for a future. You don’t need to go in search of a job today.”
Rebecca was grateful. After everything she had been through, she just wanted to relax, alone. Mrs. Allen excused herself, as she needed to pick up bread from the local bakery for lunch. Rebecca sat on the couch to read a book and let her mind wander from all the worrisome thoughts.
A knock broke her concentration, but before she could open the door, a young man barged in.
“Auntie, where are you?” called the man.
He set his suitcase down on the ground and didn’t notice Rebecca staring at him.
“May I help you?” asked Rebecca.
The young man stared at Rebecca and smiled when he realized his good fortune of finding such a beautiful young woman in his aunt’s home. “I’m looking for my aunt; she lives here.”
“Oh, you must mean Mrs. Allen. She just left to go to the bakery, but I will let her know you stopped by if you could kindly provide your name.”
“Andrew Allen.”
“I’m Mrs. Hayward,” said Rebecca.
The young man extended his hand. Cautious of his forward nature, Rebecca slowly offered her hand in return. Rebecca expected a handshake, but instead, he lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on top of her fingers. Cold chills ran through Rebecca’s body. Mrs. Allen’s nephew made her uncomfortable.
Rebecca swiftly withdrew her hand, and said, “I will be sure to tell Mrs. Allen you were here. Have a good day.” Rebecca turned on her heels and went upstairs to her room.
“I hope to see a lot more of you, Mrs. Hayward,” Andrew called as Rebecca walked up the stairs.
When Mrs. Allen returned, she called up to Rebecca to come down for lunch. Rebecca found Andrew and Mrs. Allen waiting at the kitchen table. Disheartened that Andrew hadn’t left, Rebecca did her best to force a smile and be cordial.
Mrs. Allen explained that Andrew was her late husband’s nephew, and therefore Andrew was her nephew through marriage. Andrew had just moved to New York from Connecticut, and he was planning to rent a room from Mrs. Allen. Rebecca was worried that a single man would be living in the same home as her. She didn’t want the neighbors to gossip, but she couldn’t blame Mrs. Allen for renting a room to her kin. Besides, Rebecca’s husband had been alive when Mrs. Allen agreed to let Andrew move in. Mrs. Allen had told Mr. Hayward about her nephew months ago, but Mr. Hayward never told Rebecca.
After dining on sandwiches for lunch, Andrew asked Rebecca if he could take her on a walk.
“Andrew, her husband just passed away,” scolded Mrs. Allen. “You leave that poor girl alone.”
“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that, Mrs. Hayward. I didn’t know,” said Andrew.
“Of course you didn’t. Thank you for your condolences,” said Rebecca. She looked at Mrs. Allen, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go see Reverend Davis today.”
Mrs. Allen smiled, hoping that Rebecca had decided to place an ad for a hus
band. Rebecca said her farewells, put on her best bonnet, and headed out the door to the church.
* * *
Reverend Davis beamed at Rebecca as she walked through the church doors. They sat down in a pew to discuss Rebecca’s future. Even though her father had turned his back on her, Rebecca felt grateful for the support from Mrs. Allen and the reverend.
“I’m scared, Reverend,” admitted Rebecca. “I don’t want to be a burden to Mrs. Allen, but what if I end up with another husband who loves the bottle? I would rather be an old maid than go through that again.”
Reverend Davis listened to Rebecca’s concerns and offered guidance. “Rebecca, placing the ad isn’t committing yourself to a decision. It’s just providing you with more options. Nobody is going to force you into another marriage against your will.”
Relieved, Rebecca agreed to move forward and worked with Reverend Davis on an ad.
A young, childless widow of 21 years, 5 feet 3 inches. A good cook and seamstress, but without means. Will exchange photos. Looking for Christian man suited for matrimony.
Placing an ad in the Matrimonial Times was quite expensive, so Rebecca needed to keep her ad short. Reverend Davis, knowing of Rebecca’s hardships, offered to pay the fee. The reverend prayed with Rebecca that the Lord would guide her down the right path and lead her to a husband that He had chosen for her.
Rebecca headed home, and for the first time in years, felt that there might be a brighter future ahead.
* * *
Two weeks had passed since she placed the ad in the Matrimonial Times. Rebecca wasn’t sure how long it would take to start getting responses, but she was disheartened she hadn’t heard anything yet.
Life at Mrs. Allen’s home was becoming unbearable due to Andrew’s presence. Even though she did her best to avoid him, he always seemed to be there, lurking in the shadows. Andrew was handsome and polite, but Rebecca didn’t want to be in his presence. Whenever they were in the same room together, she always found his dark eyes fixated on her. He consistently tried to engage in conversations with Rebecca, but she kept her answers short and polite to try to discourage further interactions.
After looking for a job every single day, Rebecca still wasn’t employed. Getting a job was much more difficult she had expected. To help repay Mrs. Allen for her kindness, Rebecca sold Mr. Hayward’s watch. Mrs. Allen refused to take any money from Rebecca, but finally gave in when Rebecca pleaded with her. Rebecca knew that Mrs. Allen was having difficulties paying her bills, and she couldn’t bear the burden she was placing on the kind lady. Now that the watch was gone, Rebecca only had her gold band and two twenty-dollar gold pieces to her name.
Something needed to happen, quickly.
3
Finston, Texas, 1885
Ryan Wilder patted his horse’s flank affectionately one last time and strolled out of the barn having finished tending to the animals that night. He headed back up to his empty home, where he would clean up before heading to dinner at his neighbors’ home.
Ryan’s neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Carlson, had been kind to him since the death of his wife. Mrs. Carlson invited him to dinner when Ryan’s wife had first died, and the tradition continued. He had been dining with the Carlsons for two years now.
Mrs. Carlson always mused, “I have to keep you from starving.”
Mrs. Carlson was a fantastic cook, and George Carlson was great company. The Carlsons had two eleven-year-old twin daughters, Lizzie and Mary. Ryan had become like one of the family and enjoyed the friendly conversations every evening. As always, warm biscuits were paired with a hearty meal, which left Ryan content and satisfied.
After dinner, Ryan joined George on the porch for a cigar. As the two sat under the star-lit night sky, George carefully brought up a subject he had been wanting to discuss with Ryan for quite some time
“Son, this year marks two years since your Harriet’s death. I just wanted to check in with you and see how you’re feeling.”
“Thank you, George. I have been thinking a lot about her lately, and I still get sad from time to time, but it’s getting easier each day,” answered Ryan.
“Well, you know we love having you around. And, you have been such a big help to me when you’re not working on your own land. But, I think it’s time you think about settling down again. You need to get yourself a wife to cook, clean and give you some children.”
Ryan laughed, “And just where do you think I am going to find a wife? I was lucky enough to find Harriet. You know as well as I do there are a shortage of good women ‘round these parts.”
“Well, Mrs. Carlson picked up a matrimonial paper for you. You will find lists of women who are willing to move for marriage prospects,” said George as he handed Ryan the rolled-up paper.
Ryan looked down at the paper, and cleared his throat. “I don’t think I could do that. You know, marry a woman without meeting her.”
“You’ll be in your grave long before a girl shows up around here. If you’re waiting for the Mighty Lord to deliver her to your doorstep, you’ll be waiting a mighty long time.”
Ryan knew that George’s words were true, and they both laughed. A strong shortage of women was a reality that was often joked about in many western territories and states.
George continued, “Mrs. Carlson went ahead and circled a girl’s ad in there who sounds just right for you. She’s young, childless, and is a widow, so you two will have something in common.”
“I hardly think that having a dead spouse in common justifies marriage,” said Ryan as he looked into the warm eyes of the gray-haired rancher.
“Well, I told Mrs. Carlson I’d give that to you. I’m not going to push it, but please try and think about it.”
Ryan rolled up the paper and placed it in his vest pocket. When the men finished a second cigar, they made their way back indoors. After thanking Mrs. Carlson for another delicious meal, Ryan rustled the twins’ hair and headed back to his ranch.
With the cool night wind hitting his face, Ryan rode home in deep thought. He missed coming home to a friendly face each night after a long day outdoors. He missed the touch of woman and the sound of laughter that brought him joy every single day. He considered the matrimonial ad in his pocket, and although he didn’t think much would come of it, Ryan decided to write to the 21-year-old widower. He hoped that she was a good cook, a good seamstress and had a strong disposition to handle the life on a ranch.
Ryan wrote a carefully-crafted letter to the woman he knew very little about. The ad didn’t even include the woman’s name. He carefully pondered each word, imagining what the woman receiving the letter would think about his offer. Taking chances wasn’t something new to Ryan. After all, he had moved to Texas without anything but a hope that the promise of cheap land would pan out. Going with his gut, he placed the letter on the table near the door and planned on sending it out the next day.
After washing his face and getting undressed, Ryan fell into bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
4
The days were filled with disappointment. It had been four weeks since Rebecca placed an ad, and she had only received one response. A forty-year-old widow in Ohio with six children had written asking for her hand in marriage.
Her early and ill-fated experience of marriage had driven all illusions of romance from her mind, but she just couldn’t imagine caring for six children, one of which was only four years her junior. She now regarded marriage purely as a contract of mutual responsibility and cooperation. Her only wish was to meet someone with a reasonably cool temper who would not beat or mistreat her. Yet to see herself reduced to this, a cold description of her physical attributes and financial situation, made her wonder what type of man would respond to such an advertisement.
The image of her parents on their wedding day rose unbidden to her mind. A faded, gray photo had hung framed above the mantel in her father’s house. Her mother sat in a chair while her father stood by her mother’s side with his hand on h
er shoulder. Their postures were straight and stiff, and they both stared solemn-faced at the photographer. Yet the hint of a smile on her mother’s lips and the protective way her father’s fingers cupped her shoulder spoke to Rebeca of a deep connection beyond what words could describe. Her heart broke for a type of love she would never experience.
Her current situation was monotonous and gloomy, but her life had definitely improved since her husband’s death. At least she no longer had to worry about his foul mood and whether or not he would take a bad day out on her.
She still needed to find a way to make money. Each day she would head out the door to look for work. Each evening she would come home, exhausted and frustrated from not being able to find a job. Andrew had been able to find a job within days, which only made Rebecca try harder to find a job at a factory. She even applied for housekeeping positions, but nobody wanted to hire her without references. All of her inquiries led to dead ends.
Each night, she would dine with Andrew and Mrs. Allen. Andrew continually stared at Rebecca with same type of look Mr. Hayward gave Rebecca before she married him. She did her best to stay away from him, so she spent most of her time in her room, which was her only haven from his leering gaze. Rebecca was already living off the kindness of Mrs. Allen, so she couldn’t tell the older woman that her nephew had ill intentions.
Rebecca arrived home one evening to a very excited Mrs. Allen. Rebecca hung her coat on the wooden rack and sat down next to Mrs. Allen, who was holding an envelope.
Rebecca took the envelope into her pale hands, which started to shake.
“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” squealed Mrs. Allen.
The letter was postmarked from Texas, a place that was unfamiliar to Rebecca.
“Yes, of course,” smiled Rebecca.
Mrs. Allen read the letter over Rebecca’s shoulder.