“No, I don’t,” I admitted. Water dripped down my face. I smelled the fire Matthew had started in the wooden stove begin to take life. I decided to ease over to the stove and warm up.
“When you sing those pretty songs, you sing for money not for happiness.”
“True,” I replied as I began to warm my hands.
“Same with me tonight,” Matthew explained. “I killed Jared Logger because I had to, not because I wanted to. I hate killing…never sits well in my belly. Even though Jared Logger killed my brother, I would have much rather saw him hang from a rope. I knew he would never be taken to a rope without drawing his gun first.” Matthew shook his head. “Logger is dead, my brother can rest in peace, and I can go about my way.”
“What is your way?” I asked Matthew.
“Maybe this town?” Matthew confessed. “I came to this town and took up being Sheriff because I knew Jared Logger would return here someday. But now that he’s dead and under the dirt, I don’t have no reason to stay here. I ain’t got no family.”
I continued to warm my hands. Outside the rain continued to fall. As I listened to the rain fall I felt a strange feeling overtake me. I looked at Matthew. I looked into his troubled, handsome face and saw a very lonely man—a man that was tired of his badge. “What do you want?” I asked Matthew.
Matthew reached his right hand behind his head and rubbed his neck. “I don’t rightly know what I want anymore,” he confessed. “Being a lawman is all I know. But I’m losing my taste for the law. That saloon across the street will always cause men to act foolishly. Every payday I always expect at least one or two killings. Men work hard and then spend their money getting drunk on whiskey. And then kill each other.” Matthew shook his head. “The mayor of this town gets his share from the saloon. He’s part owner.”
“Leave this place, then,” I urged Matthew.
“And go where?” Matthew asked me. “My folks are dead. I have no reason to go back to Texas.” Matthew looked at me. In his eyes, I could see that he thinking how beautiful I was. His eyes hungered to hold me in his arms and gently kiss me. In my heart, I hungered to be held and to be kissed, to be loved by a good man and become his wife.
“Will I sing in these dusty little towns forever? Will you go on wearing a badge in a town that is sour?” I asked Matthew in a soft voice.
“You can go to San Francisco or Sacramento and sing your pretty songs.”
“Oh pooh,” I said and rolled my eyes. “Samantha knows I would starve to death if I tried. The truth is, I may sing pretty, but there are hundreds of other girls who sing prettier than me…and who are much more beautiful than me.”
“I don’t think so,” Matthew said.
“I do,” I replied in a painful voice. “It’s…difficult when you have, to be honest with yourself. I know…that even if I tried to leave in a fancy city, I would…fail. I’m a bit naive at times, you see…anxious to be famous and always reminding myself to be humble.” I let out a tired laugh. “I’m sure I would fall victim to the first person who said they would turn me into a famous singer and starve after all my money is taken. Samantha has always been around to guide and protect me…but she won’t be around forever.”
Matthew stopped rubbing the back of his neck. He stood up, walked over to the front door, opened it, looked out into the rain, and then turned and looked me in my eyes. “Ma’am—”
“Beth, remember.”
Matthew sighed. “Beth,” he said, “what do you want?”
“God knows better than me,” I told Matthew. “I have to trust that God has me exactly where I need to be.”
“Standing in this dusty office with me?”
“Yes,” I said. “Listen to me,” I told Matthew and walked away from the wooden stove and inched myself toward the front door, “God loves all of us. He didn’t let us be born just to walk out on us. Now I don’t claim to have God’s ways figured out, and I know sometimes I let my heart think more about this world than I should, but I do know that God loves us. How? Because the Bible teaches me that God gave His only Begotten Son to die on a horrible cross for my sins. I don’t see anyone else giving their child to die for my sins.”
Matthew stared into my eyes. “I’ve been angry at God for a mighty long time,” he told me.
“Not mad,” I told Matthew and stopped inches away from him, “just confused. You didn’t know why God let your brother die and wanted answers that you couldn’t find. Now don’t go thinking I’m smart for saying that because it was Samantha who told me those same words after my mother died when I was a very young girl. I was mad at God too.”
“There’s world of difference between a child being mad and a grown man being angry.”
“Sure there is,” I smiled, “but in God’s eyes we’re all His children. “Well, I better get back to the hotel. I’m hungry and I have a show to perform tomorrow. Good night.”
Matthew began moving away from the front door and then stopped. “Beth,” he said in a tender voice.
“Yes?” I asked looking up into Matthew’s eyes. For a second my heart actually believed he was going to kiss me. Instead, he moved away from the door.
“Good night.”
“Good night,” I said and walked out into the rain. And without understanding why, tears began falling from my eyes. I looked back over my shoulder and saw Matthew close the front door to the jail. “What a sad song,” I whispered and hurried back to the hotel. Samantha was standing out on the Veranda. I ran to her, placed my face on her shoulder, and cried. “I want to leave this town when morning arrives. Please, don’t make me sing.”
“Okay,” Samantha promised and pulled me into her arms. “I guess I was wrong in hoping that man was good inside of his heart.”
Two days later Samantha and I drove into another dusty little town that wasn’t much different from the one we left. We checked into a hotel that was nearly identical from the hotel in the town Matthew had shot Jared Logger dead in. We ate a steak dinner that tasted like the steak we had eaten two days before, and then went to bed. The following morning Samantha walked me down a dry, hot street, toward a small theater house. A short, fat, plump man was standing outside on a wooden sidewalk waiting for us. Samantha gave me a stern look and shook her head at me, the way she always did when she was preparing to negotiate a deal. I sighed and looked around the town. I spotted a saloon, a general store, a lawyer’s office, a jail, and other little shops that didn’t offer much to the imagination. My heart sank. I was missing Matthew. Why? I didn’t know. I barely knew the man. Yet my heart yearned for him. “Three nights,” the fat, plump man told Samantha and wiped sweat from his forehead and then straightened out the gray suit he was wearing. “I’ll pay the same for each night, no matter the size of the crowd.”
Samantha considered the deal. “Three nights in this town,” I sighed miserably. Across the street, I heard a few glasses break, a table crash down to the floor, and then, a man went tumbling backward out of the saloon. He landed on the hard hot, street, shook his head, struggled to his feet, and staggered away. Laughter exploded from inside the saloon. I heard a man yell in a drunk voice; “Ain’t even noon yet and Ol’ Hank is swapping hits for drinks! You sure showed him, Nate!”
This seemed to please the plump man. He pointed at the man staggering up the street. “Ol’ Hank will never learn.”
“I’m going back to the hotel,” I told Samantha in a sick voice and walked away.
“We’ll talk more in a bit,” Samantha told the plump man and hurried after me. “What’s wrong?” she asked me in a worried voice. “You’ve been mighty quiet, girl. You’re still not upset over that Sheriff, aren’t you?”
I stopped walking and looked into Samantha’s eyes. “I…” I struggled to speak. I dropped my head. “I can’t sing in these towns anymore, Samantha. I’m sorry. I…can’t wear this badge anymore. Matthew was right.”
“About what?”
“His job was to sing to drunk men using his gun…I sing t
o drunk men using my voice…but this isn’t what God wants, Samantha…not anymore,” I tried to explain. I didn’t think Samantha would understand, but when she placed her hand on my shoulder and I looked up into her loving eyes, I knew she did.
“Okay, girl,” Samantha smiled, “we’ll find a different way now. I’m not sure what our way will be, though. We’re low on money again and might be sleeping on hard ground in a few nights. But God will take care of us.”
“I can’t sing to drunk men anymore,” I whispered and hugged Samantha. “I want…to be held and loved the way a woman should be held and loved. I want a home for us. I want to raise a family. I don’t care about those fancy cities anymore. I don’t care about being a famous singer. For the last two days, I’ve been feeling God speaking to my heart.”
“What has God been telling you?”
“Not in words…but more like…convictions,” I whispered. “I’ve been feeling very convicted to walk away from singing and find us a home. I know we’re poor, but—”
“I know,” Samantha hugged me tight and then said: “Well, will you look over there!”
I let go of Samantha and looked up the hot street. I spotted Matthew riding down the street on a beautiful brown horse. He was jerking his head from side to side, searching the street with desperate eyes. He was looking for me. My heart broke and then became very scared. Matthew was searching for me because he loved me. I didn’t know how I knew that truth…I just knew. When Matthew spotted me standing beside Samantha, wearing my pretty pink dress, he raced down the street, jumped off his horse, and ran over to me. “Hello,” I managed to speak.
“What are you doing here?” Samantha asked Matthew in a stern tone even though her eyes were filled with happiness.
“I put my badge away,” Matthew told me. He gently reached out and took my soft hands into his. “Beth…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” Matthew’s voice was shaky. “I’ve been doing a whole lot of praying…I guess I was wrong about God not believing in me because I know He does. I guess I was just angry at myself all this time.”
“I understand,” I said fighting back tears. A hot wing began playing on my long hair. “What are you doing here?”
“This,” Matthew said. He leaned forward and softly kissed me. “I can’t start living until I make you my wife,” he whispered. “My days of being a lawman are over. I want to move to Boston.”
“Boston!” Samantha exclaimed. “Why? We’re broker than a worn-down field horse.”
“I’m not broke,” Matthew smiled into my eyes. “My brother was a smart man. He invested into lots of stuff. When he died, his money went to my folks. When they died, the money went to me. I ain’t touched a penny of that money. But now I know,” Matthew lifted his right and caressed my face, “it’s time to make my brother proud.” Matthew looked at Samantha. “Ma’am, I’d be mighty happy if you would give me permission to marry Beth.”
“Beth is a grown woman,” Samantha informed Matthew and then winked at him.
“Will you be my wife?” Matthew asked me in a scared voice.
I allowed tears to stream down my face. “Will you protect me in that fancy city?” I asked.
“Always.”
“Will you promise to hold me tight, the way a woman needs to be held tight?” I begged.
“Always.”
“Will you promise to kiss me softly,” I pleaded.
Matthew leaned down and kissed me softly. “Always.”
“Will you promise to love me forever?”
“Always,” Matthew smiled.
“Then I’ll be your wife,” I told Matthew and hugged him with all my heart. Matthew wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. As he did a new song began singing in my heart. Sure, the sun was hot, the street was dry and duty, and men were getting drunk over at the saloon, but I didn’t care. My days of singing in dry, little dusty towns were over.
<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>
I took a bow before a large crowd of people sitting in fancy seats and wearing fancy suits and dresses. Matthew was sitting in the front row, dressed in a handsome blue suit, holding our son. Samantha was sitting next to him wearing a lovely green dress. Of course, she fussed right and left about having to wear the dress. The men and women sitting before me began to stand up one by one, clapping louder and louder. Some people even began throwing roses onto the stage I was standing on. I smiled and took a second bow, hoping I wouldn’t trip on the fancy yellow and pink dress I was wearing. I looked out into the crowd, into the smiling faces, and felt happiness overtake me. But as I stared out into the crowd, I was taken back to the small, dusty towns I had once sung in. I remembered the awful, drunk, faces and the smell of rotten whiskey. But then I spotted Matthew smiling at me. He stood up, holding out son in his arms, and nodded his head proudly.
After the performance, Matthew walked me home with our son while Samantha, the little stinker, decided to stay at the theater house and talk to a man her own age who had taken a curious interest in her. “Lovely night,” Matthew said and pointed up at a beautiful sky filled with bright stars.
“Yes, it is,” I agreed holding my son tightly in my arms. “And now we’re walking home to our lovely home.” Matthew gently put his arm around me and pulled me close. He stopped me under a low hanging tree, smiled into my eyes, and kissed me. Yes, I thought, God always created new songs for tired hearts to sing.
The End
The Rancher’s Mail Order Bride
Chapter 1: Print the West
Rhonda Dandleton was bored. That was the problem. But what more could be expected from a beautiful woman trapped in a small town outside of Atlanta—a woman whose mind was constantly on the search for a story to fill the newspaper she and her brother ran. Unfortunately, there weren't many stories worth printing in the small town she lived in, a town whose soul core of entertainment was waiting to see what new merchandise Mr. Green was going to put up his store each week. Of course, there were the rumors of a War Between the States floating in the air, but the rumors were not favorable enough to toss a fishing line at—yet. “Oh, this town,” Rhonda said in a dreadful voice.
Andrew Dandleton tossed a pair of reading glasses down onto a hot desk and looked up at his sister who was impatiently pacing around his sweaty office wearing her usual blond ponytail draped over her usual blue dress staring down at her usual brown boots. It was clear to him that his sister was bored and suffering from a tab bit of cabin fever. “It's a hot day,” he said wiping sweat from his brown hair. “Maybe you should go down to the swimming hole?”
Rhonda glared at her brother with sharp eyes. “I'm talking about the heat,” she snapped. “Look at you, Andrew.” Andrew looked down at his white shirt and gray trousers. Rhonda rolled her eyes. “There you sit, behind the same old desk Papa use to sit behind, running a paper that people use to wipe up horse poo with. And you're as content as a bug in a rug. Well, not me, mister. I need more.”
Andrew grinned. “I didn't know our humble paper was worthy to wipe of horse poo, sister.”
Rhonda stopped pacing and threw her small hands onto her hips. “Don't get smart with me, Andrew Dandleton,” she fussed. “Papa left this paper to the both of us.”
“So he did,” Andrew smiled. “Speaking of paper, when are you going to allow me to print a wedding announcement? Folks around here are wondering when you are going to let William Miller call you his wife.”
“William Miller is an idiot who can't even saddle a horse properly,” Rhonda told Andrew in a frustrated voice. “That man refuses to wear a gun and has the backbone of a two-year-old being chased by a turtle.”
“William is a banker,” Andrew reminded Rhonda. “His hands are meant for counting money, which he and his family have a lot of. You'd be smart to play into that money. I know William isn't a man who understands hard work, and sure, he's a little spoiled, but his family is wealthy and a smart woman would take advantage of that.”
“No thank you,” Rhonda said and wip
ed her forehead with her right hand. “Andrew, I believe that love can't be purchased. Love has to come from the heart. My husband is out there waiting for me, and someday we'll find each other. I just have to be patient, that's all.”
“The hopeless horse running across an empty plain,” Andrew sighed, “searching for a silly dream. Sister, women marry for money in this part of the world. And Georgia is full of rich families to marry into you. You're a beautiful woman, but very foolish.”
“Why? Because I believe in love?”
“Because you're beautiful and unmarried,” Andrew said in a disappointed tone. “Listen,” he said leaning forward in a wooden chair that creaked loud enough to crack and eardrum, “since we're on the topic of love, I might have a story for you to chase after if you're interested.”
“Oh?” Rhonda said and hurried over to Andrew's desk. “Toss the potato on my plate.”
Andrew reached into the top right-hand drawer of his desk and pulled out a letter. “You know Heather Morrow, right?”
Rhonda sat down on the edge of Andrew's desk and looked out of a dusty window at a back lot full of sagging, hot, trees. “Mr. Morrow owns the feed store, Andrew. Of course, I know the man's daughter. I sure wish I didn't. She's a rude, outspoken, little snot. Why do you ask?”
Andrew tossed the letter in his hand down onto his desk. “Mr. Morrow came into my office yesterday and showed me a bunch of letters his daughter has been receiving from a man in Nevada. The man Heather has been writing is supposed to be this big-time rancher who is looking for a wife.”
Rhonda raised her eyebrows. “Oh?” she asked intrigued. “What's the matter? Can't poor old dear Heather find a husband right here in town?”
Andrew shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? Anyway, Mr. Morrow asked me to investigate this rancher.”
Rhonda's excitement drained from her heart. “Is that it?” she asked as if someone stole the last steak in town. “You want me to send a few telegrams to Nevada?”
The Thanksgiving Day Bride: Mail Order Bride Novels Page 24