Mary's Mail Order Husband

by Lily Wilspur

  She went through all her preparations for the wedding, what her father would wear, and where he would sit in the pews at the church. John Webster had left all the planning to her, since she lived in Fort Collins and he was moving into a strange town where he didn’t know anyone. She could negotiate with local businesspeople and have everything ready when he came to town tomorrow.

  The thought of meeting him at the station sent a little thrill through her. She had to admit to herself that the excitement of meeting a man she’d never met, going to the altar with him, and beginning a new life together excited her to no end. She knew enough about him to know he was a decent, well-bred, and prosperous man. Surely their marriage could only thrive.

  And he’d agreed that her father would live with them until he died. Mary didn’t think he had too much longer to go, what with his failing mental abilities and his frail health. Simon Costello made a bluster of controlling his daughter’s life, but he would never be able to stand up to John and Mary when they combined together to manage their own affairs.

  Mary sat down in her own chair by the window and folded her hands in her lap. The thought of sharing her father’s management with someone, of having an ally in keeping his demands in their place, filled her with satisfaction.

  Her late husband, Albert, always deferred to Mary’s father whenever any decision had to be made. He would never stand up for himself or for her. He drove Mary to distraction. No doubt that was the reason Simon chose Albert for Mary’s husband. He knew he could pressure Albert into doing whatever he wanted.

  She’d told John all this in her letters. She told him she didn’t want another husband who would lie down and obey her father. She wanted someone to take her part and support her against him. And John agreed to her terms.

  She couldn’t wait to meet him. Just a few more days now, and her life would change.

  Chapter 4

  Mary met her father in the sitting room that evening after supper. She stared at him buttoning his tie in the hat stand mirror. “You’re not going next door, are you?”

  He straightened his tie and adjusted his jacket around his shoulders. “I told you I was. Why are you acting so surprised?”

  Mary shook her head and turned away. “Honestly, Dad. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

  “And I don’t know how you can stand to stay in every night,” Simon shot back. “You ought to get out and enjoy yourself while you still can. You’ll be married in a few days. You ought to go out and socialize while you have the chance.”

  “I wouldn’t enjoy myself in a place like that.” Oh, what was the point in going through that whole argument again? They just had different ideas about what constituted a good time. “That’s not the kind of socializing I like to do.”

  “I know it isn’t,” Simon admitted. “But you should at least get out of the house. You’ve been cooped up in here for weeks. And in the middle of summer, too. It isn’t good for you. You should get out while the air is cool.”

  “You’re right about that,” Mary replied. “Maybe I’ll take a walk while you’re at the saloon.”

  “There you go.” He put the finishing touches on his suit and tie. Then he put on his hat. Mary wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and met her father at the door. They stepped out together into the night.

  No sooner had she left the house then Mary felt the cool night air revive her. Her father was right. She’d spent too much time indoors over the summer. She should make a habit of getting out more.

  He would be in the hotel saloon for hours. She would take a long walk out of town. She glanced up at the sky. A half moon hung clear and bright over the mountains. She could see her way well enough. By the time she got back, her father would be ready to come home, and she could put him to bed.

  Contented with her plan, she took her father’s arm and let him lead her the few steps to the saloon door. He patted her hand just before he took his leave.

  “Don’t stay out too late,” she told him.

  Simon laughed. “I should be telling you the same thing. You have that look on your face.”

  “What look?” she asked.

  “The look that says you’re about to disappear,” Simon replied. “I know that look well.”

  Mary looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you don’t,” he replied. “You don’t see yourself. You used to get that look when you were a little girl. You would disappear for hours. And when you came back, you’d be full of all kinds of secrets that no one could wring out of you. Oh, I know that look well.”

  Mary turned the tables on him. “Well, you have the look of a man trying to be fifty years younger than he is. You shouldn’t try so hard to impress those cowboys. You’ll get yourself into trouble one of these days.”

  “You know I’m not trying to impress them, Mary,” Simon insisted.

  “No, Dad, you’re trying to be one of them, which is just as bad.” Mary let go of his arm. “I wish you’d settle down and….”

  “And what?” he interrupted. “And just grow old gracefully? No way!”

  Mary moved off. “Don’t do anything foolish, okay? I’ll be back in a little while to pick you up.”

  Simon pushed his way through the door. “Don’t hurry,” he called back over his shoulder.

  Mary took one last look at his form vanishing into the crowded saloon. She saw a few people in there she knew. She recognized some of the cowboys from the Saddle 8 Ranch outside of town, spending their pay and growing louder with every passing hour. She saw a few well-dressed out-of-towners, too. Some of them sat around the poker tables, fleecing the cowboys for all they were worth.

  Mary turned away, eager to get on with her walk. She liked nothing better than a walk in the moonlight. Just as she stepped off the sidewalk, a young man in a tailored maroon velvet suit jumped down next to her.

  She hadn’t taken much notice of him when he leaned against the door frame, listening to her conversation with her father. But when he matched his stride with hers and fell in step beside her, she recognized his voice instantly. He was the same man who tried to speak to her on the street that afternoon.

  “Nice evening for a walk,” he began.

  Mary rounded on him. “Leave me alone,” she spat. “Can’t you get it through your thick head that I don’t want you tagging after me all the time?”

  The man didn’t miss a step. He smiled at her and strolled along next to her. “I just thought you might like a little company. I like to walk in the evening, the same as anyone else. We might as well walk together and keep each other company.”

  “I don’t want any company,” she snapped. “I walk to be alone. Leave me alone.”

  “Well, then, why don’t we just walk together?” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets.

  Mary stopped short and rounded on him, her fists balled up at her sides. “I just said I don’t want to walk together. Are you deaf or something?”

  He didn’t acknowledge her anger. Instead, he smiled at her, which only angered her more than ever. “I just thought we could go together, since we’re both going the same way. But I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of being properly introduced.” He extended his hand. “I’m Jack.”

  Mary glared at his outstretched hand. “We aren’t going the same way. You’re harassing me when I’ve told you repeatedly to leave me alone. Now, if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll just walk over to the courthouse and the sheriff can straighten you out for me.”

  Without waiting for a response, she stalked off. The annoying young man ignored her threat and fell in step at her side again. “I heard you talking to that man in front of the saloon. You called him ‘Dad’, and he called you ‘Mary’. Do you mind if I call you Mary? It’s such a nice name.”

  She stomped onward, her thoughts raging, but without answering. For some reason, she didn’t go toward the courthouse the way she told him she would. She kept heading out of town, toward the countryside. Jack—or
whatever his name was—strode along beside her, chatting away as if she’d given him a written invitation.

  This kind of man infuriated her. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He thought the world belonged to him. Who did he think he was? His neat pressed suit gave the lie to his arrogant personality. A true gentleman knew how to keep his place in a woman’s life. He didn’t intrude when he wasn’t wanted.

  But this yahoo—he obviously came from some lawless wilderness where social graces remained unknown, where a men tread on a woman’s toes and privacy without so much as a murmur of apology.

  Chapter 5

  “It’s a nice night for a walk,” Jack was saying in the background. “It must get awfully hot in town during the summer. I don’t know how you stand it. I’d have to get out of town during the hot months.”

  Despite her best efforts, curiosity drove Mary to answer. “What? Are you new in town?”

  “Just arrived off the train yesterday,” he replied. “I guess a lady like you doesn’t notice every stranger passing through. There must be a regular cavalcade of outsiders coming through.”

  “I’ll say there is,” Mary muttered.

  “Why,” Jack continued. “Just in the time I’ve been here, I’ve noticed how many out-of-staters are here. They’re everywhere! And they all seem to be congregated in the bars and saloons and dance halls in the middle of town.”

  “Just as well,” Mary grumbled. “Keep them away from decent folks.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Jack countered. “I’ve met some pretty decent ones just in the two days I’ve been here. Sure, I’ve run into the trashy ones, the gambling cheats and cutthroats, too. But there’s some quality ones there, too.”

  Mary lengthened her pace. If she made walking uncomfortable for him, maybe he’d drop off or find an excuse to turn back. “It just goes to show the kind of people you associate with.”

  He didn’t take the bait. “What about you? A lady like you must live out of town, away from all that carry-on.”

  “I wish,” she shot back. “My father and I live in a little house just off the main street, next door to the hotel where you saw me with my father. I wish I could afford to buy some land outside of town with a little house. I wish I lived somewhere quiet and peaceful, instead of the busiest street in town.”

  She peeked sideways at him and caught him smiling at her. “Maybe you will someday.”

  “I hope so.” She found her mouth and her ideas running away from her. “I’m getting married on Sunday, and I hope my new husband and I can move out of town. That would be a dream come true for me.”

  Jack pushed his hat back on his forehead. “Getting married, huh? Who’s the lucky fella?”

  “His name is John Webster.” Why was she telling him this? Was this her idea of making him leave her alone?

  “He’s a lucky guy,” Jack remarked. “You’re obviously a quality lady. I guess he’s been courting you for a while, then?”

  Mary blushed. “Actually, I’ve never met him. He’s a…I’m a ….we’re a ….I don’t know how to describe it.”

  Jack cocked his head at her. “You’re a what?”

  “It’s a…” She faltered again. “The marriage was arranged by mail-order. I’m a mail-order bride—except I’m not. He’s a mail-order husband.” She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

  Jack kept smiling at her. “I think I understand. I’ve heard about this sort of thing, except it’s usually the woman who travels to the man, isn’t it? I didn’t know there were men traveling to be mail-order husbands.” He burst out laughing. “It sounds a little bit odd, doesn’t it?”

  Mary narrowed her eyes. “What’s so funny about it?”

  “Nothing.” Jack threw up his hands. “I never said it was funny.”

  “You laughed at me,” she snapped. “I’ll thank you not to laugh at me. I don’t like it.”

  “Sorry.” But he couldn’t suppress his smirk. “So Sunday’s the big day. You have your dress all picked out and everything, I suppose. And the cake and the decorations for the church and everything? Just like the big society weddings back East, I bet.”

  “No,” she replied. “The dress is a plain straight blue dress. No frills.”

  “What?” he gasped. “A blue dress? Don’t tell me you’ve been married before.”

  Mary nodded. “I’m a widow.”

  “But you’re just a young thing!” Jack remarked. “How could you be a widow?”

  “I married my first husband when I was nineteen,” she told him. “He died four years later.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Jack replied.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Mary returned. “But to answer your question, it won’t be a big wedding like the ones back East. My father is the only person invited, and there are no decorations. There’s going to be a small cake at my house afterward, but I’m making it myself the night before at home. Nothing fancy.”

  Jack examined her more closely. “I see. You’re a sensible woman, I think.”

  “I didn’t want to make a big splash,” Mary explained. “As I said, I’m a widow, and there aren’t many people in town I would want to invite anyway. It’s better to have a quiet wedding just between my father and me. Those people I do associate with can find out after the fact.”

  Jack nodded. “Very practical. I’m impressed.”

  Mary shuddered, annoyed with herself. She didn’t intend to reveal her personal business to this strange man. Why couldn’t she ever learn to keep her mouth shut? “I never wanted to impress you. It’s just as well you’re from out of town. You’ll go back to where you came from, and I’ll never see you again. I’m sure John won’t be sorry to see the back of you, either, if he ever finds out I told you all this.”

  “You might be surprised,” Jack replied. “Your new husband might take a liking to me. He might decide he wants me to stick around for a while.”

  “God forbid!” Mary exclaimed.

  Chapter 6

  They reached the grassy knoll by the stream where she usually walked when she got out of town. Jack turned his face up toward the moon. “It sure is nice here. A man could get to liking a place like this. The air is so clear, and the mountains hanging overhead there—it’s like something out of a picture. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  The tranquility of the scene calmed Mary and tempered her hostility toward him. Any man who could appreciate the stark beauty and serenity of the American West couldn’t be all bad. “I suppose I’m used to it. I’ve lived here all my life.”

  “You’re lucky,” Jack told her. “There’s nothing like this back East.”

  “Is that where you’re from?” she asked. “You sound like you have a little bit of an accent, but I can’t tell where it’s from.”

  “There are mountains out back, but they aren’t anything like this.” He admired the black outlines against the moon. “I could stare at them all night long.”

  “You’d get mighty tired, I think.” But she felt the same way about the mountains. They’d always been her own secret companions. She told them her secrets, and they always listened the way people never did. Their ghostly shadows in the starlight only made them more striking.

  She never thought of opening her heart to another person. What would that be like? As much as she loved her father, she didn’t consider him a confidante, especially now when his age sometimes prevented him from thinking clearly. She never confided in Albert, either.

  Maybe it would be different with John Webster. Maybe he would come to understand her as no one else ever had, and she would trust him with her most sensitive feelings.

  A breeze blew through the glade and Jack shrugged his shoulders under his jacket. “It gets a little chilly up here, doesn’t it, even in the height of summer? I didn’t expect that.”

  “Chilly?” She laughed at him. “You’re joking. This? This isn’t chilly.”

  “We don’t get these cool breezes in the summer
where I come from,” he told her. “Summertime is always warm, day or night.”

  “And where exactly are you from?” she asked.

  “From the South,” he told her.

  She snickered. “Can you be a little more specific than that?”

  “No.” He pulled his coat around him. “Your parents must have come out West from somewhere. If you were born here, they must have come out with the very first settlers.”

  “They were from Virginia,” she replied. “My father was posted here with the Army, and he just stayed on. He liked it. He was young then. He’s been here ever since.”

  “I can understand why,” Jack returned.

  “That reminds me,” Mary continued. “I should be heading back. He’ll be ready to go home soon.”

  Jack pretended to look around at the trees and bushes. “Home soon? It’s early yet. They’ll barely be getting started.”

  Mary started walking, and Jack fell in step next to her. But she didn’t walk as fast as she did when she tried to get rid of him. She didn’t mind his company so much now, and when the first lights of town crept into view, she slowed down even more so as not to cut their conversation short sooner than necessary.

  “You forget,” Mary reminded him. “My father’s not young. He can’t enjoy the activities of the saloon the way he used to. Even if everything goes well and he has a good time, even if he doesn’t get mixed up in a brawl and clocked over the head, and even if he doesn’t get rolled and robbed by vicious whores, he gets tired after only a little while.”

  Jack slowed to match her pace. “You’re right. I forgot.”

  “One glass of whiskey, maybe two, and he’s ready for bed.” Mary shook her head and smiled to herself. “And the biggest problem is that he doesn’t know when he’s ready for bed. He thinks he can just keep going the way he used to do when he was twenty-five. He can get quite belligerent.”