by Nathan Adams
"Um, yes," Cora agreed with some hesitation.
"Good, now here, take one." Eva handed Cora one of the magazines that had the ads for mail-order-brides. "Now, if you will excuse us," she said smugly to the other two sisters, "we have some husband picking to do." She turned on her heels with a flourish.
Cora remained behind for a moment, not sure if she should follow in Eva's footsteps. Although Eva had treated the notion like a silly joke, it touched on a harsh reality for the girls as many people already regarded the Morgan girls as spinsters.
They left the store to find a comfortable spot to sit and peruse the lonely heart ads. As they flipped through, they giggled at the ads and openly imagined how different their lives would be if they decided to take up an offer.
"It would be such an adventure," Cora commented as she read an ad from a homesteader in Idaho.
"Truly. Just imagine," Eva sighed. She ran her fingers absently over an ad for a prospector in California.
"Do you think you would ever take any of these men up on their offers?" Cora asked cautiously. "You would be giving up everything to start a life with a man you've never met."
"Sometimes," Eva confessed. She paused with her hand over another ad, "and there are some days where the thought is a bit more enticing than others." With a final sigh, she shut the magazine.
"Is it really that foolish?" Cora pressed.
Her sister looked at her for a long time, her heavy eyes searching hers. "I don't think so," she concluded. "There are far worst fates, after all, than an adventure."
Cora nodded, taking her sister's words to heart. However, her question was not random. She was thinking of how easy it was for a man to pick up and seek his fortune in a new place, while the same type of options were not available to women. Cora longed to see a different world, to experience something far more exciting than dull, predictable Boston. She envied Matthew Carmichael's ability to move to Texas on a whim.
She wished she could be more like that, to do things on whims.
"Well, I am going to go check on Mia and Olivia, surely they are done in the store by now." Eva rose with ease, she moved as if she did not carry the worries of someone twice her age.
Ever since their father had died, money had been tight. Although they were fine for the moment, without a steady source of income, their futures remained unknown. All four girls knew that their best chance at survival was finding a husband who could support them once the Morgan vaults dried up. Although they all joked about the idea of becoming a mail-order bride, their laughter hid the dark reality that such a solution might be in their near future.
"Ok," Cora said. "I'll wait here until you are all done," she smiled at her sister.
Eva gave her an appreciative look before turning back toward the store.
Cora settled back down to continue perusing the ads. There had been one ad in particular that had caught her eye. At first, she hadn't given it much thought, but now she found her mind turning back to it.
Bride needed for well-established bachelor living in Texas.
Must be intelligent, good natured, and educated.
Must be willing to accept offer immediately.
Travel and accommodations provided.
Please contact Horn & Carmichael Law to accept offer.
P.S. Must be amiable and able to get along with a mother-in-law.
Cora thought the post was quite odd. The ad was directed through the Carmichael law firm — where Matthew used to work before he left for Texas.
Texas! It all made sense. The ad was placed through Matthew's family firm, who else would deal through that specific agency? In addition, the ad required someone who could get along with a mother-in-law — and only someone with a mother as difficult as Mrs. Carmichael would find it necessary to include such a stipulation.
Cora knew that this ad was for Matthew Carmichael. She clutched the ad to her breast and smiled with exuberant joy. She knew what she was meant to do; she just prayed that no one had already accepted the offer. This was fate guiding her back to Matthew.
She quickly ran back into the store to let her sisters know — although she would leave out the part where she suspected it was Matthew Carmichael — that she had found her new husband. She knew it was ridiculous, but her gut told her to go for it.
Chapter Four
"So Ivan tells me you are an educated man?" George Gavin boomed in his impressively deep voice. He was tall, with leathery tan skin and a thick grey beard. He looked exactly how Matthew thought an aged Texas rancher would look.
"Yes sir," Matthew added with confidence. "I was a lawyer for several years before I decided to come out west for a change of pace.
George gave him a scrutinizing look. "Change of pace you say? Well, it sure isn't easy like your cozy chair job; this here is hard work," he added.
"I'm no stranger to hard work sir," Matthew felt like he was being interrogated. "I've been working at the saloon —"
"The saloon?" the aged cowboy gave him a mocking scowl. "It ain't nothin' like the saloon when you are herding cattle and fighting thieves." As he spoke, George's eye twitched.
"Of course not," Matthew added calmly. "But the one thing I've learned from working at the saloon — as well as my time as a lawyer — is the art of diplomacy."
George gave him a confused look.
"Let me elaborate. I can't even count the number of fights I have had to break up, the show-downs I've dissuaded and this —" he held up his hand to show a jagged scar that ran down the center of his palm "— is from the time I got stabbed while apprehending a local cattle thief that had decided to come into the saloon for a drink."
George crossed his arms and gave Matthew a thorough once-over.
Matthew held his breath.
George broke into a wide, slightly toothless grin. "I like you." He leaned forward to clap Matthew on his back. "You have the job!"
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. He had exaggerated the last part about apprehending a cattle thief. The cut was actually from a broken beer glass, but George didn't need to know that.
"Well, I leave early in the morning for my cattle drive, how about we celebrate your new job by grabbing a base burner. It's on me," George offered.
Matthew wasn't one to turn down a drink, especially when his new boss was offering to pay.
Chapter Five
Cora couldn't believe she was finally here. As she stepped out of the stagecoach and onto the dusty Texas road, she could feel her heart beating with excitement. She couldn't believe she had actually gone through with it.
It had taken a bit of convincing to get her mother and sisters to finally allow her to take up the offer. Her mother had been hesitant, since it was offered through the Carmichael law office, but Cora had used it to her advantage by explaining that it made it more reputable.
When she left Boston, it had been bittersweet. She had no idea when she would see her family again, but she hoped that it wouldn't be too long. The excitement of seeing Matthew again kept her going.
She turned to the driver. "Where is the local hotel?" she asked politely.
He gave her bewildered look. "Hotel ma'am? We ain't got a hotel."
Cora was taken aback. "But where am I supposed to stay then?"
"With your new husband, I suppose."
"That will not do. I need proper time to avail myself before I agree to marital vows," she said.
He shrugged. "I don't know 'bout you ma'am, but most are married right off the coach."
Cora gasped, "That will not do," she said again.
The coach driver rolled his eyes at her. "Well, if you must find a place, the saloon has a few rooms to rent."
"Ok," she thought. "Where is the saloon?" she asked.
He pointed to a rickety building across the street. "How 'bout you inquire inside 'bout where you will be staying, then come back and tell me and I'll deliver your trunk," he said bluntly.
Cora figured this was the best she would get until Matthew, h
er fiancé, came to retrieve her. An acceptance letter had been sent, but she had been advised there was a chance she might arrive before it.
Cora straightened her travel coat and marched confidently toward the saloon. She was determined to make the best of things. Surely she wouldn't have to spend too long at the saloon before Matthew came to get her.
As she walked through the doors, she was hit by the scent of stale ale and cigar smoke; cheap piano music played on in the background. She coughed against the fumes, but chose to push forward despite the appalling smell. She hoped he came soon, preferably today.
As she made her way up to the front counter, she searched for someone who might be able to help her.
"Hello?" she rapped her knuckles impatiently on the bar counter. "Whom do I talk to about getting a room?" she asked a haggard man sitting at the bar.
"I can offer you a room with me," he said with a pronounced lisp. As he smiled, he revealed a set of blackened teeth.
Cora tried her best to hold back her revulsion. "Thank you for your offer, but I will have to decline."
"Suit yourself," the man turned back to his beer.
Cora looked desperately around the room; all of the men looked the same. Everyone was drinking, playing poker, or both. No one looked as if they were respectable enough to be running the establishment.
"Excuse me?" she turned to the man on her other side, "who runs this place?"
"Joe," the man muttered without taking his eyes of the pint before him.
"Thank you," Cora said. She looked around the room expectantly, "Now which one is Joe?" she asked again.
The man mumbled something indistinguishable, and then took another swig.
Cora was about to give up, when an oddly familiar voice behind her spoke. "Do you need help ma'am?"
Cora turned around and gasped. It was HIM!
It was Matthew, but all grown up. He was tall, toned, and had his signature unruly brown hair falling into his eyes. His strong jaw hinted at a five o'clock shadow, which made him look even more daring and intense.
"Matthew?" she breathed.
The man's expression changed from polite curiosity, to utter confusion.
"I'm sorry?" he clarified. "Do I know you?"
Cora's face fell; Matthew did not remember her. How could this be? She had dreamt about him since she was eight years old, but he didn't even know who she was.
"Do you not know who I am?" she asked.
"Am I supposed to?" he slurred his words slightly.
It was at that moment that Cora realized Matthew was drunk.
"Son, how about you get the fellas another round and let me do the talking to the pretty lady?" A weathered, older cowboy clapped Matthew on the shoulders and turned his blurry attention on Cora. "Howdy do, ma'am?"
Cora was appalled. She had traveled thousands of miles on a whim to find Matthew and not only did he not remember her, he was a drunkard.
She completely ignored the leering look of Matthew's older companion. If she wasn't so angry, she might have cried. "How could you!" she exclaimed a little bit too loudly.
The whole room went quiet as people turned their heads to watch the commotion at the front.
"Sorry?" Matthew asked.
"I came all the way here for you and instead of meeting me at the coach, you are off getting drunk with your friends!"
Matthew's face went very pale, his mouth hung open in a shocked expression.
"Is this here your girl?" the older cowboy prodded Matthew curiously.
"I, um —" Matthew began.
They were suddenly interrupted by a gentleman waving a letter in his hand excitedly, "someone accepted your offer —" he stopped as soon as he noticed the small, confused group. "Er, I mean she is here," he cleared his throat gruffly.
All eyes turned to him, expectantly.
He approached the group of stunned faces and extended his hand. "You must be Ms. Constance Morgan," he said to Cora.
Cora let out a sigh of relief, someone knew who she was. "Yes, and you are?"
"Ivan Johnson," he exclaimed as he took her hand and kissed it.
Cora blushed. She turned to Matthew and saw, to her horror, that his face was even paler than before.
"Morgan?" Matthew stuttered.
"Why yes son," the older cowboy shook him roughly. "Don't be so embarrassed, at least your girl just caught you with a drink — you weren't whorin' or nothin'."
"But a Morgan!" Matthew exclaimed once again.
This time, Cora felt like crying. He did know who she was — almost too well. He was rejecting her for no longer belonging to the same social class as him. Obviously, Mrs. Carmichael had gotten to the youthful, accepting, kind-hearted boy she had met all those years ago and replaced him with the cold man before her who abided by social hierarchies. Cora thought here in the West, family name shouldn't matter.
"You know Matthew," she spoke as her eyes began to sting with the onslaught of fresh tears, "I thought you would still be the same kind boy I met years ago. I guess I was wrong." And with that, she turned smartly on her heels and walked right out the door of the saloon.
She had no idea where she was going to go, all she knew was she needed to get as far away as she could from Matthew Carmichael.
The cad, she thought. He had placed an ad for a wife, but had rejected her because of who her family was. Cora now knew that she had idealized Matthew and had bestowed unrealistic qualities upon him. He was not the man she had thought he was, although he looked exactly like the handsome, strong, dark haired young man she had imagined.
She swiped at the hot tears as they rolled down her cheek. She did not want to cry over a man, especially a pompous, self-righteous one like Matthew. She had been so foolish to think that he would welcome her with open arms without exhibiting any of his mother's prejudices.
"Ms. Morgan?" a man called her name.
She turned around to see Ivan Johnson — the only one who had been somewhat decent – huffing it towards her, his face red with exertion.
"Ms. Morgan," he stopped before her. "I am very sorry, this is all my fault," he began.
"No, it's Matthew's," she said hotly. "And mine, in a way, for presuming too much."
"He usually isn't like this, but when he saw you it was like he saw a ghost!" he exclaimed.
Cora rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he did," she muttered. She wasn't about to explain to this man that his "friend" was a social snob.
"Look, you obviously need a place to stay. My wife and I have a guest room in our house. I would like to extend the offer of lodgings until we can make alternative arrangements for you."
"How kind," Cora smiled. "However, I will be returning home on the coach later this day."
"Coach?" Ivan looked bewildered. "The coach left about an hour ago and won't return for another two weeks."
"Two weeks?" Cora groaned. She wasn't exactly fond of the idea of making the long trip back to Boston so quickly after arriving, but neither did she wish to stay in the same town as Matthew.
"Unfortunately, that is the best we can do." Ivan looked apologetic.
"Thank you for your offer," Cora said. "It looks like I might have to take you and your wife up on it."
Ivan smiled at her. "Oh good, my wife will love the company. I will take you to her right away. Where are your bags?" he asked.
"At the saloon, I think. The coachman said he would drop them off."
"Well, don't worry dear. I will track them down," he said confidently. "And I am very sorry that no one was here to greet you upon your arrival, it seems that the letter with your acceptance was in the same coach that brought you here."
Ivan directed Cora down the street and toward the little store that he and his wife owned. He chatted aimlessly about the history of the town, all while avoiding any topic that might involve Matthew Carmichael. Cora was grateful.
As he opened the door a pretty, slightly plump woman stood to great them. "Who have you brought with you?" she asked Ivan curiousl
y.
"This is Mr. Carmi —" he broke off suddenly as he realized of whom he was about to speak. "This is Ms. Constance Morgan," he amended. "She had made the trip all the way from Boston and needs a place to stay before she can return in two weeks," he explained.
Picking up on something in her husband's expression, Mrs. Johnson didn't push the subject, and greeted Cora with a big smile. "Welcome dear! How about I show you to the guest bedroom and we can get you all set up," she motioned for Cora to follow her.
Cora nodded, she felt safe and comfortable in Johnsons' care. It was only now that she realized just how exhausted she was. Today had been full of disappointments.
Chapter Six:
Matthew felt like a cad. Constance — no, he remembered, she goes by Cora — Morgan was the last person he would have thought would reply to his ad for a bride. Despite his surprise, he knew she did not deserve the poor treatment he had given her.
He had sobered up pretty quickly once he realized who she was and why she was here.
She must hate him, he thought. He needed to go and explain to her what had happened — the whole mail-order bride scheme — and why she couldn't be his bride. It wasn't that she wasn't desirable — when he had first seen her walk in, he had been mesmerized by the beautiful, elegant, bright eyed woman that had strolled into the saloon — but that there was no way he could tell his mother he was married to a Morgan girl.
Ivan had told him she was staying with him and his wife in the interim, so he figured he could start by first making a formal apology.
He made his way over to Ivan's store, but the moment he walked in he could feel the scowl from Miriam, Ivan's wife.
"How dare you show your face here," she scolded him. "That poor girl made the long trip all the way here for you, and you couldn't even give her the welcome she deserved." She spat in disgust.
"Miriam, let me explain," he started.
Miriam cut him off. "It is not me that you should be doing the explaining to," she scowled, which was rare for the usually cheerful Mrs. Johnson.
"Where is she?" he asked cautiously.