Mail Order Bride: JUMBO Mail Order Bride 20 Book Box Set

by Hope Sinclair

  She’d heard back from six of the eight girlfriends to whom she’d written, and not one of their letters contained anything that could save Daisy from what she now feared was her inevitable fate. There was just over two weeks left in the three-month time limit her father had given her, and she had little hope that her two remaining friends would write back to her with anything promising, if, that is, they even wrote back to her at all.

  “Tick-tock, tick-tock,” her father said to her the next day, over breakfast. “Have you found a beau yet, my dear child?” The word “dear” sounded so absurd coming from his greasy lips as he ate his fourth or fifth slice of bacon.

  “I’m working on it,” Daisy replied, withholding the complete truth, and her tears, from her father. “I still have over two weeks, and am sorting through my prospects.”

  “I bet you are,” Mr. Robinson laughed. He laughed so hard that a chunk of meat fell out of his mouth onto the floor. Their tiny, curly-haired dog came over and ate it promptly, then propped its paws on Mr. Robinson’s lap and begged for more.

  “You just keep sorting through those prospects of yours,” Mr. Robinson mocked as he took a thick slice of bacon from his wife’s plate and held it out for the dog. “Just keep sorting through them… for the next fifteen days.”

  Mr. Robinson took to laughing again and didn’t stop until Daisy stood up and left the table. Once Daisy was out of the room, he sighed, smiled, and returned to his plate, which still had a boiled egg and two slices of bacon on it.

  Daisy did her best to avoid her father over the next few days. Yet, no matter what she did, she could not avoid, or stop, the progression of time. It was getting closer and closer to the end of her time allotment, and she still hadn’t heard back from Camilla Sinclair or Rose Johnson—and, she knew that, even if she did, she’d have little, if any, time to pursue whatever leads, if any, they gave her.

  Just as she was about to give up all hope, Daisy received two letters in the mail one morning. She had just ten days left until her three months expired, and, as she held the two letters in her hands, she prayed to God, one more time, asking for a solution to her problem.

  She carefully opened the first letter. It came from the state of Michigan, from her former schoolmate Rose Johnson. Our settlement is very small, Rose wrote. My husband and I are one of only nine families that resides here. There are no single men who live among us. I am very sorry and wish you well in your search for a husband.

  Daisy set Rose’s letter down on her desk and shook her head from side to side. She couldn’t believe it; she’d tried so hard and written to so many friends, yet nothing good came of her efforts. She was down to just one letter now. She sincerely doubted it would be any different from the seven others she’d received so far, and a small part of her didn’t even want to read it.

  That small part of her soon caved to the greater part, however, and Daisy decided that, yes, she would read Camilla Sinclair’s letter. But, first, before her spirits were completely crushed, she would respond to Rose’s letter, so that her sadness would not prevent her from relaying her gratitude for her friend’s consideration in replying.

  Once Daisy was done writing an unnecessarily long response to Rose’s letter, she folded it, placed it in an envelope, and, then, picked up Camilla’s letter. She could no longer postpone the inevitable, and, as she stared at it, she wondered what particular brand of bad news this letter would contain.

  But, then, Daisy noticed something that she hadn’t noticed before. The return address on the envelope indicated that the letter came from “C. Anderson,” which was not Camilla’s name. Her maiden name was Sinclair, and her married name was Welles. But, still, for some reason, the name “C. Anderson” sounded very, very familiar to Daisy.

  Daisy wracked her brain for a few moments as she stared down at the name. C. Anderson, she thought to herself. Where do I know that name from?

  Then, like a lightning bolt, it hit her… The “C.” stood for “Calvin.”

  Calvin Anderson?!? Daisy thought, wracking her brain even more. Why on earth would Calvin Anderson be writing to me?

  FIVE

  As soon as Daisy remembered the name “Calvin Anderson,” she wondered how she could ever forget it.

  For a few years, when Daisy was growing up, Calvin and his parents had been their neighbors. Calvin was an only child, three years’ Daisy’s senior, and he’d been good friends with the younger of Daisy’s two brothers, Joseph—and, as Daisy recalled, he was quite a rascal.

  As Daisy held Calvin’s letter in her hands, she closed her eyes and let her mind carry her back to her youth, some ten years ago, when Calvin and his parents first moved into the house next door to hers. In her mind’s eye, she saw her 12-year-old self running out of her house, over to his, to meet her new neighbors. Her mother had told her they had a child—though, she failed to mention that it was a boy child, and a wily one at that.

  When Daisy first saw Calvin, she saw him through the front window of his house—and, when he saw her, he stuck his tongue out at her and contorted his face into an ugly, gruesome expression. Not that he had to contort it that much, however. He was pretty awkward-looking to begin with. At 15, he was tall, thin, and gangly, with a narrow face and a jaw that stuck out at too severe an angle.

  He came out of his house, shortly after that to greet her. “You got any brothers?” he asked.

  “Yep,” she answered. “I have two brothers. But, one of them is grown up now. The other is around your age though… You got any sisters?’

  “Sisters?” Calvin replied. “Yeah, sure, I got a sister.”

  “You do?” Daisy asked back, beaming. “Where is she? Can I meet her?”

  “Let me go ask her,” Calvin responded. He went into his house, hid behind the door, and snickered as he left Daisy outside waiting for the sister he did not have.

  “She doesn’t want to come out and play,” Calvin told Daisy, reemerging from the house. “She’s too upset right now. Our mother bought us a tin of cookies, and she spilled them on the ground. So, she hasn’t had her sweet treat for the day… Maybe if you had some cookies, you could entice her to come out.”

  “Cookies?” Daisy inquired, still beaming. “I know we have some cookies at home. I’ll go get them!”

  “Okay,” Calvin smiled.

  Twenty minutes later, Daisy returned with a tin of cookies.

  “Here they are,” she said, catching her breath. “Please, go get your sister, and I’ll give them to her.”

  “Well,” Calvin hawed, “you’d better give them to me and let me take them into her. She’s a bit shy and weary of strangers. She’ll want to see the cookies first, rather than put her faith in someone she’s never met.”

  “Alright,” Daisy replied, handing the tin over to Calvin. She watched as he marched up the steps and into his house, then waited for him—and his nonexistent sister—to come back out. Meanwhile, Calvin stood behind the front door, silently scoffing Daisy as he shoved cookie after cookie into his mouth.

  Several minutes later, Calvin walked out of his house and returned to Daisy. “

  These aren’t the cookies she likes,” he said, handing the empty tin back to her. “So, she’s not going to come out right now. Come back tomorrow, and bring a different type of cookie with you—or, perhaps some other sweet treat, like dried fruit or a sugar biscuit.”

  “Okay,” Daisy said with a sigh of disappointment. “I’ll come back tomorrow with something else.”

  And, indeed, Daisy did come back with a new offering the next day… and the next… and the next. But, each day, Calvin’s “sister” rejected the treat, even though the container in which it was delivered was always returned empty.

  It wasn’t until nearly a week after the Andersons moved in that Daisy learned about Calvin’s ruse—and, it wasn’t Calvin who told her, but, rather, her mother. Mrs. Robinson had grown suspicious when she noticed numerous food items missing from her pantry, so she asked Daisy about it—and, when Da
isy told her she’d taken the food items to the Andersons’ house to appease their daughter, Mrs. Robinson informed her that the Andersons did not have a daughter.

  “They only have one child,” she told Daisy. “A boy named Calvin.”

  Daisy was livid. “I hate you, Calvin Anderson!” she exclaimed later that afternoon when she went to his house to confront him. And, after he laughed at her and called her “gullible,” she had even more reason to stand by her statement.

  And the reasons kept coming after that initial deceitful encounter. Over the next three years, as Calvin and Daisy’s brother Joseph became close buddies, while Calvin continued to tease and torment Daisy at every chance he got.

  On one occasion, he removed the books from her school bag and replaced them with heavy, similarly-shaped slabs of rock, which Daisy did not discover until she was at her desk, in the school house, readying herself for her lessons. Another time, he tricked her into using a pair of binoculars that he’d “rigged” to have ink around the eye pieces. When she gazed through them, she wound up with black circles around her eyes and was the laughing stock of the neighborhood for several hours.

  Then there was the time that Calvin glued the pages of one of Daisy’s favorite books together; the time he fashioned a string to look like a spider and tossed it on Daisy as she sat, daydreaming, on her porch. And the time he hid Daisy’s towel and shoes while she was swimming in the nearby pond, and she had to walk home barefoot and covered in wet clothing; and, of course, the time he told everyone he saw her holding hands with Jeremy Colter, a very unpopular boy well-known for his horrific odor and lack of personal hygiene.

  Shenanigans such as these continued until Daisy was 15, then they stopped altogether. Calvin had turned 18 around this time, and was considered a “man” henceforth—and, Daisy figured he either grew out of his childish habits, caved to social expectations, or found a new victim to torment.

  Whatever the case, he went from pulling pranks on Daisy to completely ignoring her, and, though he remained firm friends with Joseph, Calvin continued to ignore her until he and his parents moved away two years later.

  Daisy never knew where Calvin or his parents ended up, and, frankly, she never cared to find out. His jokes, however spirited, had caused her a great deal of embarrassment over the years, and, in many ways, he’d made her life a living nightmare. She didn’t care where he wound up, and was just happy he wound up someplace different.

  Daisy opened her eyes again and was brought back from the past to the present. She looked down at Calvin’s letter, and the question she never cared to ask was answered.

  According to the return address, Calvin had sent his letter from Fort Alcatraz, California, which is where, soon or later, he must have wound up after he and his parents moved away from New York.

  But, while her unasked question was answered, the question that Daisy had asked herself only a few moments earlier still remained unanswered. As she continued to stare down at the envelope, she wondered, again, why on earth Calvin Anderson would write to her.

  Perhaps he found out about my predicament and is writing to taunt me, she told herself. For a moment, she thought about tearing up his letter, or tossing it into the fireplace as kindling. But, then, her curiosity got the better of her, and Daisy slowly opened the letter.

  SIX

  Dear Daisy,

  I hope you remember me. My name is Calvin Anderson. I was your neighbor in New York for five years and was friends with your brother Joseph.

  My cousin, Anabelle Hallsworth (formerly Anabelle Corn), recently wrote to me and informed me that you are searching for a husband and want to marry promptly. I am unmarried as well and would gladly take you on as my wife, if you are so inclined.

  I own and operate an extremely successful cattle ranch in the settlement of Blue Basin, which lies outside of Fort Alcatraz, California. I live a good, Christian life and am an active and well-respected member of my church and community. I do not drink alcohol, use tobacco, gamble, or suffer from any other vices, and I work very hard to make sure that my home, business, and personal life are stable and in tip-top order.

  So, what do you think? Would you be amiable to a marriage arrangement? I promise that I would provide a good life for you.

  Please write back to me and let me know your answer. Or, if you prefer, we can exchange additional letters and get re-acquainted while you consider my proposal.

  Kindly,

  Calvin Anderson

  Once Daisy was done reading Calvin’s letter, she had to go back and read it a second time. She simply couldn’t believe it. Calvin Anderson—the boy who’d teased, taunted, tormented, and tortured her in her teen years—had offered to marry her! It was shocking on a few different levels.

  First of all, Calvin’s message from Blue Basin seemed, well, out of the blue, and Daisy had all but forgotten that he and Anabelle were cousins. Secondly, based on their previous encounters, Daisy assumed that he must not have liked her very much when they were younger—why else would he have played such awful tricks on her?—and she couldn’t understand how he could have such a huge change of heart. Thirdly, Daisy was surprised that, after having written so many letters to her friends, the only shred of hope she received came from someone she didn’t consider a “friend” by any measure—and, fourthly, she couldn’t get over the fact that his letter, no matter how unexpected, arrived in New York just as her three-month time limit was about to expire.

  At the same time that Daisy was shocked, she was oddly intrigued and excited. Though she still harbored ill feelings toward Calvin, she thought he sounded like a far more promising prospect than Marcus Taylor. The things Calvin wrote in his letter, alone, made him seem more appealing than Marcus. And, what’s more, even though Daisy’s memories of Calvin were not that fond, they were much fonder than the impressions she had of Marcus.

  Even if Calvin was still gangly and awkward-looking, like he was when he was younger, that physical appearance was still more attractive than Marcus’s. Marcus was a thick-bodied man, yet his thickness was mostly fat with very little muscle—and, it wasn’t Marcus’s size that offended Daisy so much as it was why he was that size. He was lazy and opposed to physical exertion and labor, and, like her father, he was gluttonous and excessive in all his pleasures.

  Marcus’s thick body also came with a thick head, and, on top of that thick head, there was very little hair. At 29, he was prematurely balding, and that fact made him look much older than he actually was. It also made him look sinister, as did his beady, spectacle-laden brown eyes; long, crooked nose; and yellow teeth.

  Furthermore, the pranks that Daisy recalled Calvin playing on her during their youth were just that—they were pranks played on her during their youth. As such, though they were unkind, they were youthful discretions, playfully targeted at one person.

  The “unkind” things that Marcus did, however, were done during his adult years and were far-reaching. He’d overcharged the hospital for linens, mind you; and he’d fired able-bodied men and replaced them with needy women whom he underpaid, just to save her father’s company some money.

  Marcus was, as Daisy had previously concluded, ruthless. Indeed, he had a reputation for being such in New York society, and his reputation did not bring him the “respect” that Calvin purported to bring in his letter. Plus, whereas Calvin said he was active in his church, Marcus was not active in his. In fact, the only times Daisy could recall seeing him at church were at holiday services, funerals, and weddings—and, even then, he merely sat in the congregation, unfamiliar to God’s verses, and did not contribute to the church’s good works in any manner.

  Yes, Calvin Anderson seemed like he’d make a much better husband than Marcus Taylor. Yet, Daisy was still reluctant. Despite his statements that he lived a “good, Christian life,” worked very hard, and was free from vices, Daisy wondered if he was still mischievous and deceptive.

  She wondered if his claims were merely claims, or if they were a recitation o
f firm facts. And, she wondered if, should she marry him, he would continue to have fun at her expense or, possibly, ignore her like he did in the two years directly preceding his move.

  But, even more pressing than these concerns, were Daisy’s concerns over the exact nature of Calvin’s proposal. When she’d written her letter to Anabelle, and her other friends, Daisy had clearly indicated that she was looking for a man to marry and take over her father’s linen business in New York. But, Calvin’s letter said nothing about the business aspect of her initial plea, and she didn’t know if he’d considered it, or even been aware of it, when extending his proposal.

  Was Calvin asking Daisy to come to California? Was he offering to come back to New York? Were either of these options open for debate?

  Daisy had a lot of questions, and none of them could be answered merely by this one letter. She wanted to write back to Calvin and exchange more letters, so that she could get a feel for his disposition, sincerity, and intentions.

  But, alas, time was not on Daisy’s side. She had but left until her time limit expired, and that wasn’t even time enough for her letter to reach Calvin, let alone for him to send a reply that would enlighten her and give her the information she needed to respond to his proposal.

  In fact, even if Daisy were to reply to Calvin’s letter and take it to the post immediately, by the time he received it, she could very well already be married to Marcus Taylor, and any shot she had at a happy life would be completely gone… forever.

  Daisy sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, so as to hold back her tears. Ever since her father came to her and told her he wanted her to marry Marcus Taylor, she had hoped and prayed for a lead like this. But, now, she had no time to pursue it.