“He didn't do anything. I don't know why your mother said that. You must have misunderstood her,” he said tersely, clenching his jaw, and Mary-Jane knew that this was going to be more difficult than she had imagined. But at that point Tom sniffed and coughed. He had been awake this whole time.
“He took...” he said, and then his words slurred into something incomprehensible as his head lolled into his chest. Mary-Jane noticed the look of sheer fear on her father's face, and knew that it hadn't been the ramblings of a drunken mind.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. He's drunk. Don't pay attention to him.”
At that point Tom went to say something again and Wayne rose quickly, making a loud noise to drown out whatever it was the drunk man was going to say. Wayne's long strides reached the cell in a few steps and he loomed over the pitiful drunk man, making his gun prominent.
“I suggest you go back to sleep otherwise you'll be spending the whole week in here,” he said in a threatening tone. Tom promptly followed orders, but not before his bloodshot eyes met Mary-Jane's. Wayne returned to his seat. “Now, I think you should go back home with these groceries. I'll talk more with you tonight,” he said, then went to go back to work. But Mary-Jane wasn't having it.
“No. I want answers, now. You have been acting strangely about uncle Lee all my life and I want to know why. He's been gone for years, so long that I don't even remember him but you're still using him as an excuse to not let me leave and I want to know why. I deserve to know.”
“There's nothing, he's just drunk, you're getting worked up over nothing. Your uncle didn't want to live here anymore so he left. That's all there is to it,” he said. Mary-Jane's ire rose again but this time she was in control. This time she knew that she was in the right and that her father was in the wrong. She rose from her seat and just as her father had towered over so many criminals, she towered over him. Her voice was cold and controlled and each word was icy as it escaped her lips.
“How can you sit there and lie to your own daughter. I know there's something going on and I demand to know what it is. I am a grown woman and I have a right-”
“You have no rights! I am your father and I will tell you what rights you have. Now go home and put this matter to rest before I put you over my knee and give you a hiding. I don't care that you're not a baby anymore, I'll do it in front of the whole town if you want. That's the final word on the matter,” he said, shouting out her, his eyes apoplectic with rage. The unbridled anger with which he spoke chilled her to her core, for she had rarely witnessed such an outburst, and never directed at her. Almost all at once she saw it dissipate from his face, but it was too late for recriminations. She turned immediately and, just like the previous night, the argument ended with her storming out, trying to quell the stream of hot, angry tears.
Mary-Jane grabbed the groceries and, not wanting to return home just yet, she decided to walk around town. She was sure now that she would have to take matters into her own hands if she wanted to leave. The fact that her mother and father were not being honest with her only made her angrier than before, and she couldn't understand what truth they were hiding. Nothing made sense to her, and them saying that it was all for her own good didn't placate her. No, she wanted to leave and if it was without her father's blessing then so be it.
As she was browsing in the store, her mood calmed and she found herself looking at the newspaper and magazine racks. Little of it held any interest for her, but as her eyes danced across the titles of the papers one of them did catch her eye. It was a large paper that advertised for wives. Suddenly there was an opportunity to escape and her heart was seized by anxiety. Her fingers trembled as she opened the page and skimmed some of the advertisements. They were all from men, mostly on the frontier out west, who wanted wives to keep them company as they tended to their ranch and other things.
“This ain't a library, you buying that?” the shopkeeper asked brusquely. Mary-Jane pulled out a few coins from her pocket and nervously handed them over to him, then folded the paper and placed it in the bag along with the other groceries. She then decided to call in on Callie, as she wasn't ready to return home yet. When she arrived, she found Callie in a welcoming mood. The children were playing in the background and her husband was at work, so she was pleased at having the company. She boiled some water and Mary-Jane took a seat in the kitchen.
“This is a surprise,” Callie said.
“I know, I liked bumping into you the other day and I wanted to try and make an effort to see you.”
“I should hope you do it more often. Are you okay? You look as though you have been crying.”
Mary-Jane blushed a little and wiped her cheeks. “It's just family stuff, you know, the usual. What is it like having a family of your own and not having to live with your parents?”
“It's wonderful. I actually feel like I can do what I want when I want rather than having to follow their orders, although whenever I see my mother she still treats me like I am her little girl.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Mary-Jane asked, her voice growing quiet and tentative.
“Of course, you can ask me anything. I know we haven't seen each other much over the past few years but you were always one of my best friends at school and a bond like that isn't broken easily.”
“Do you remember much about your childhood?”
“I don't know, I suppose I don't think about it that much. I remember bits and pieces, why?”
Mary-Jane licked her lips and gulped, for her throat had suddenly run dry. She tapped her fingers nervously and began to chew her lower lip, and she cast her eyes away from Callie's gaze.
“Do you remember my uncle at all?”
“I can't say that I do, why?” she said, and Mary-Jane noticed that Callie was the first person to not stiffen upon hearing a mention of uncle Lee.
“My parents are being mysterious about him. I heard them talk about him the other night, and I don't think they've been honest with me. They've always told me that he didn't belong here and that he wanted to see someplace new, and he just left one day without telling anyone, but whenever I bring it up everyone acts strangely and I just know there's something they're not telling me, and I think it has to do with why they won't let me marry anyone. But I've been trying to think myself and I don't remember much about it either. And ma says that the two of us were really close, that I was his favorite and that he was mine, and I know I was only a child but I would have thought that if he had that much of an impact on my life I would have remembered something...”
“No, I'm sorry. Maybe it's one of those things that you'll never find out.”
“I hope not. It's driving me crazy. But I think I have found a way for me to get married.”
“What do you mean?”
“Can you keep a secret? I don't want my father learning of this.”
“Of course, my lips are sealed,” Callie said. Mary-Jane's eyes gleamed with relish as she pulled out the newspaper and laid it on the table, smoothing it out with her hands, feeling the slight indentations of the words that had been printed onto the paper. “Since I can't count on my parents to do what I need I thought I would take matters into my own hands.”
“Is this one of those papers where men advertise for wives and you exchange letters in the hopes of getting married?”
“Yes, have you heard of them?”
“I have! Katharine met her husband using one of them, perhaps it was this one.”
“And did it work out?” Mary-Jane asked eagerly, looking for as much information as possible.
“As far as I know you. She went all the way across the country to meet him. I remember talking with her about it. She said that exchanging letters was so freeing as they could tell each other things that were difficult to speak of, although she did make a point of saying that anyone who uses this service should make sure to ask for a picture as well, just so they would know what they're getting themselves in for. Are you sure you want
to do this, though? It's one thing to buy the paper, another to actually exchange letters with a man on the other side of the country, and then to leave. Your father would be so frightfully angry with you.”
“Then perhaps it would give me leverage to finally get the truth about my uncle,” Mary-Jane said with a steely look in her eyes, and in that moment she decided that she would look through the paper and find a man who suited her needs.
Chapter 4
Mary-Jane left Callie feeling in much better spirits than when she had arrived. Now that she had a plan in place, she was feeling hopeful for the future and her heart was fluttering with excitement. She returned home and hid the paper under her blouse, then placed the bag of groceries on the kitchen table. She said a quick hello to her mother, then said that she was going to go for a stroll.
“Don't go too far,” her mother warned, and it shocked Mary-Jane that she was only now questioning the reasoning behind her parents' over-protectiveness. Before she had merely accepted it as a matter of fact, but now there seemed to be a dark reason lurking behind their actions. This and other things were on her mind as she went to a shaded glade away from the town. Before she left home, she had also smuggled a pen and some paper, and for all the time she walked she held the newspaper close to her breast, sure that inside would be the man of her dreams, the man that she had been waiting for.
That feeling soon dissipated when she opened the pages and began reading the various advertisements. Most of them sounded similar, requesting a young, beautiful wife to make frontier life seem less lonely, and while she appreciated the honesty and bluntness of these men she also found them lacking a certain sense of romanticism, and none of them caught her attention in the way that she wanted. The paper was divided into advertisements of different sizes, and she imagined that the wealthiest people were able to afford the biggest advertisements. The more she read, the more she became disheartened and began to doubt if this plan was going to come to fruition. When she had read about half of them, she cast her eyes to the horizon once again and made a plea to the heavens that they would send her some kind of sign or omen, something to say that eventually she would find the true love for which she so desperately needed.
With a heavy sigh she began to read again, and it wasn't until she reached about three-quarters of the way through the book when she finally found an advertisement that caught her attention. The man's name was Luke Newman, and in his advertisement he wrote that he had recently suffered a tragic loss; his wife had died, leaving him a widower and their child motherless, and that he was struggling to take care of his ranch and the baby. He needed a caring, hardworking woman to help him raise the child and take care of the ranch. Mary-Jane imagined it to be the type of advert that didn't garner many responses, since the heartbreak was raw and he didn't offer love or promise a happy life together, and the woman would have to raise a child that was not her own. However, something about it spoke to Mary-Jane and she found herself reading and re-reading the advert again. In her mind's eye she saw Luke standing with his child over his wife's grave, scared for the future, not knowing if he would be able to raise his child in the right manner or not, but willing to try everything he could to move forward in life.
The more she thought about it the more the picture began to form in her mind. She could turn up, and instead of feeling left behind by her peers she could catch up. Already there was a man with a child that she could be a mother to, and in time more of her own would follow. He had suffered grief, yes, but she already knew that a woman had deemed him worthy to marry and time would heal his wounds. It wasn't a conventional love story, but of all the advertisements she had read his seemed the most genuine, and since she felt like she didn't have anything to lose she began to write him a letter.
Dear Luke,
It is with excitement and anxiety that I am writing you this letter. My name is Mary-Jane Parker and I have just read your advertisement for a wife, which I found moving. My condolences for your loss. I cannot imagine the pain and anguish that you must have been through, but I admire your courage in trying to move forward in life and provide the best life for your son. I am twenty-two years old, educated, and long to experience something new in life. It is difficult to know where to begin because there is much to tell you about me and yet no words are forming. I am writing to you as a complete stranger, yet somehow I feel as though a bond has been struck between us already. At least; that is how I hope you feel upon receiving this.
I was touched by your story and find myself wanting to know more about you and your life. Given a lack of words at the moment please, if you wish, return my letter with questions, for I would very much like to begin a regular correspondence with you.
Kind regards,
Mary-Jane Parker
It was a simple letter, but one that she was afraid lacked a certain sparkle. She had no idea how many letters Luke was receiving, and for a long time she placed her pen against her lip in an effort to try and think of something else to say, something that would really grab his attention. For a moment she thought about telling him about the ordeal with her parents and her past, but when she went to put pen to paper she found herself unable to form a coherent thought about it, and she wanted to come across as a woman, not as a bratty girl. He needed a woman, a strong person who would stand up for herself and go after what she wanted. That was who she wanted to be. That was who she was going to be from now on.
Emphatically, she sealed the letter and wrote his address on the front of the envelope, and then strode back into town, where she deposited the letter and made a special request that any return mail would be kept in a safe box rather than being delivered to her house. After this was settled, she returned home and felt in better spirits than usual. For the first time, she had a glimmer of a new future, of a life outside of the ordinary, and her mind was swept up in all the possibilities it held. The more she thought about it, the more she loved the idea of being a loving wife to a husband, of standing by him and showing him that after a tragedy, life could go on. And it was with much anticipation that she waited for his reply.
The days stretched out in an endless stream. Mary-Jane's parents were surprised that she had not had another outburst, and hoped that she had simply had a bad day and it was the end of it. However, her curiosity about her uncle had only been stemmed by the excitement of Luke's reply, and for the first few days after she had sent her letter she was in high spirits, jovial and singing aloud. Yet as the days drew on and no reply had come, a bitterness seized her heart and her mood darkened. The people at the mail office began to recognize her as she came in daily, and they teased her about the fact that nobody had sent her a reply mail. She snapped at her parents and withdrew from life, until one day there was a letter waiting for her, and the weight of the world had been lifted. She ran through town to her special place and took joy in the letter. She traced her fingertips along the envelope, feeling the paper, imagining how his hands must have touched the same areas. She wondered how he felt, if he had been pleased by her letter. Waiting in the envelope could have been something wonderful... or it could have been something dreadful, and her mind wrestled with the possibilities.
It lay in her lap, staring at her. Her name and address had been scribbled on the front of the envelope and it was a wonder that it had managed to reach her at all, but it was a good sign, for she had always heard that the most sensitive and intelligent men had bad handwriting. Eventually, she tore open the envelope, pulled out the paper, and began devouring the words he had written.
Dear Mary-Jane
Thank you for your letter, it gave me a great deal of pleasure to read your words, and even though you claimed that words were difficult to come by I found that the few you chose were imbued with a kind and sensitive character, and one that I would like to get to know a great deal more. Thank you for your kind words. It has been difficult to live after my wife died, and I hope you do not think it improper of me to be searching for another wife, or to be talking a
bout her so openly. I am trying to move on, but it is hard. You may not wish to answer such a personal question, but have you ever lost anyone close to you? It would be gratifying to know that somebody else knows my pain.
As for me and my life, I am a simple man born to a simple family. My father taught me everything I know and I ventured out here with my wife in the hopes of building a life, one that I could pass down to my son and that would outlive me. I don't need anything grand, only to have a good woman by my side and to see my son grown up well and healthy. I like to think of myself as having a good sense of humor and a strong morality. I do not take kindly to those who would seek to harm other people, but I believe in kindness and that we should help each other overcome our hardships. The most difficult thing I have had to experience is the loneliness of being out here. There are nights when I stare out at the horizon and wonder if there is anyone else that feels the same as me, that feels so... so small.
My wife always told me that I think too much.
My son's name is Eli and he has inherited his mother's looks, which is good news for him. He is a calm baby, although it is clear that he misses his mother and I am struggling to give him all the attention he needs when I have a ranch to run as well. Do you have any experience with children? And again, I hope that you do not mind that you would be taking care of a child that is not your own blood.
ROMANCE: Badass Boss (Billionaire Alpha Bad Boy Romance) (Western Mail Order Bride Calendar Contemporary) Page 63