He followed her inside. Bethany jumped a little at the sound of the door closing loudly behind her. Settling into a seat in front of his big mahogany desk, she glanced at him. He was pulling out a cigar from a box on his table. Lighting it up, he took a long drag and watched her. Bethany could feel his eyes on her as she looked at her hands in her lap, trying to make as little eye contact as possible. She felt uncomfortable in his presence.
“So, you need a loan, huh?”
“Um yes, I do.”
Taking another drag, he asked hoarsely, “Why should I give you my money? Tell me why you need it.”
“I’m a widow, sir. My husband died last year, leaving us behind. I have three young children who have needs, which I’m afraid I won’t be able to fulfill any longer unless I get some money.”
Richie looked down at her then asked, “Can you not get by on your monthly wages?”
“Not really,” she said sheepishly. “I only work the morning shift because I have to take care of my children as well.”
“That’s quite a situation,” he said. Lowering his cigar, he took out a typed form and handed it over to Bethany. She read it carefully.
“It’s an undertaking, but if you agree to the terms and sign at the bottom, you will get your money.”
Making sure there were no other odd terms except the ones that Mr. Fitch had just told her, she grabbed the quill in front of her and signed at the bottom.
“Give it to Fitch. He’ll hand you the amount you need.” Eyeing her a last time, he dismissed her. “Good day.”
Turning around, she walked out of his office to Mr. Fitch, feeling a huge weight lifted off her shoulder.
Chapter 3
French Prairie, Willamette Valley, Oregon
The lands were being claimed by the immigrants pouring into Oregon from the Eastern part of the country. Matthew was one of these immigrants, having arrived about a couple months ago from Nebraska via the Oregon Trail. His family owned a ranch there and had sent him out here to claim any piece of land he could. Oregon’s provisional regime was giving land to unmarried and married settlers arriving in the West free of cost.
Matthew had a knack for running farms. Having followed in his father’s footsteps of becoming a ranch owner, he knew the expansion of their farming business would surely be fruitful. His father was delighted at the opportunity that had presented itself right when they needed it. Not wanting to miss it, Matthew’s father devised a plan to set up another farm on the land Matthew would claim upon his arrival in Oregon. It meant more crops and more livestock to sell. His older brother was a trader in Nebraska, selling goods and livestock from their farm. Matthew overlooked the ranch while his brother dealt with the traders. He was reluctant to leave at first, not wanting to abandon the farm, but his father agreed to take charge of it in his absence, even in his old age.
It had not taken him long to claim the land he wanted in Oregon. It was quite peaceful here, the land much greener and more fertile. It was a good place for farming. Matthew had brought with him a couple hundred dollars and an errand boy, Leroy, from home. He had hired a few laborers to work in the fields. The land he had claimed had grass seed already growing out front. With the help of his workers he had planted the parsnips and sweet potatoes on the back side of the farm. There was still plenty of land left to plant more crops and orchards. He had not decided what else to grow yet. There was a small house on the far-left of the land where Matthew was staying and a stable where he kept the horses. It was an old building that needed some renovation. Matthew had not considered renovating it as soon as he had arrived. He wanted to save his money for the crops and the horses which he needed to buy.
Two months later, he still had not purchased any furniture. He had no interest in surrounding himself in luxury. He was quite content to sleep on a rug for the time being. Until his business here started to run as well as he hoped, he wouldn’t waste a single penny he had brought along with him.
One Sunday morning, he woke up to the sounds of horses pulling up in front of his house. He wasn’t expecting any company. Putting on his white cotton shirt he ambled his way out the front door, his eyes squinting at the blazing light from the sun. Two men riding on horseback stopped just as they spotted Matthew coming out.
Both looked older than him, probably in their 30’s. They looked quite alike, as if they were related. They climbed down their horses, holding the reins and handed them over to Fred, the stable guy. One of them had a pale face and dark wind-blown hair. The other looked slightly older with a small beard and the same dark hair, his face tanned. Giving Matthew a half smile, the younger one spoke,
“Good day sir. You must be Matthew Russell. I’m Chris Townsend. This is my older brother, Thomas. We’ve come here to talk business with you, if you would like to hear us out.”
Matthew glanced from Chris to Thomas, confused and surprised by their sudden arrival. They both seemed eager to discuss whatever they had in mind. He could tell it from their expressions.
“To what do I owe this arrival?”
This time Thomas replied, his voice a bit gruff compared to Chris’s friendly voice. “We heard you moved here some time back. We’re the middlemen. We buy the produce from the farms around here then sell it to the markets over in Portland and Salem.”
“Looks like you know what you’re doing. You have a farm back at home?” asked Chris.
“Yes, in Nebraska. Word spreads quickly around here,” Matthew said.
“It sure does,” Chris said, crouching down to sit on the steps.
“I would invite y’all inside, but the house has no furniture right now.”
Shaking his head slowly, Chris replied, “It’s alright out here.” His eyes skimmed across the field, admiring the vast land.
Thomas stood at the foot of the steps, his feet propped up against the railing. “What exactly do you grow here apart from the grass here out in front?”
“Parsnips and sweet potatoes,” Matthew answered. “There’s some space left to grow berries. I think huckleberries would do just fine.”
“Ah, yes. Berries are quite popular here.” Chris got up, running a hand through his hair and asked, “Do you mind showing us the fields in back?”
“Not at all.” Walking around the house, Matthew felt odd trusting these strange men. They seemed nice but he had no way of knowing whether they were telling the truth. They could very well be thieves, for all he knew.
Stopping at a spot with a good view of the fields on either side, he turned to the brothers and finally said, “I need some time to think about it. I’m new here. We don’t really know each other. How about we make sure of everything before we start trading?”
Sharing a knowing glance, the brothers seemed to understand his concern. Thomas put on his hat and took out a card. It had their company name and address. Handing it over to Matthew he said, “We get it, sir. Your trust in us is important for the work ahead. To tell you the truth, when we first started this, the farms we visited would not even let us see their land. Tell you what, you think about this before the harvesting begins. Our office is back in Portland, The Townsenders Trading Company. If you come to town, do pay us a visit.”
Matthew nodded. Looking at the time on his watch, he said, “Thank you gentlemen for reaching out. I will definitely consider the deal.”
Shaking hands with Matthew, they bid him farewell then went back the way they came.
As they left, Matthew noticed that the sun had disappeared behind the gray clouds. It looked like a downpour was headed their way. This would be the first rain since he arrived. All in good time, he thought. The harvesting season was approaching and the crops needed as much water as they could get. Looking up at the sky, he felt a spatter of rain on his face. It had started. Taking cover, he ducked inside and went into the kitchen to make some tea. The house felt so empty with just him there. He thought he could manage to live here alone but he longed for a companion, someone to talk to, and someone to take care of his
needs.
Chapter 4
Lawrence, Kansas
Alice and James scampered around the little garden of their house, giggling and squealing. Bethany watched them through the kitchen window, smiling to herself. Seeing their joyful faces made her forget all the pain bottled up inside, albeit just for a while. Ever since she had borrowed the money from Richie, she had felt relieved yet worried as to how she was going to pay him back. There was a gold cross necklace hanging around her neck. She might get some cash if she sold it, she thought. She had no idea how much it was even worth, whether it would cover the amount she had loaned.
Straining the pasta that had just finished boiling, she ran it under cold water then began to cook it with the vegetables she had bought. The children loved pasta. Bethany added some cheese over the top and let it melt. Walking to the open door, she called out to Alice and James to come inside. Wondering where Drew was, she quickly looked around the house but couldn’t find him. He must be in his room, she decided. He had been spending an awful lot of time holed up in there. His vacations had started and yet he seemed gloomy and distant. Bethany would ask him what was wrong but all she got in reply was, “nothing.”
Turning off the stove, she made her way carefully up the stairs. Reaching Drew’s bedroom door, she knocked lightly.
“Drew dear, mama has made your favorite pasta.”
Hearing no response, she thought maybe he was asleep, but as she opened the door, she found him curled up on his bed, sniffing with tears rolling down his face. Bethany’s heart sank. She approached him quietly, sitting down on the edge of his bed. Seeing his mama on his bed, he settled in her arms as she wrapped them tight around him, soothing him with her voice.
“Sssh. Don’t cry my beautiful boy. Mama’s here.”
Laying his head on her stomach, he spoke, his voice a little strained, “I miss Papa.”
Another tear fell down his cheek. Bethany wiped it away with her finger. “I miss him too, Drew.”
“Will I ever have another daddy?”
Perplexed at his question, she said, “I don’t know. Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Things would be easier then. You won’t have to work or leave us with Mrs. Bailey.”
“That is true. But I’m not sure anyone would want to marry your mama. A widow isn’t exactly a catch.”
Saddened by her words, he looked away at the ceiling. Bethany didn’t know how to make him feel better. She could sense he needed a father. It was written all over his face. Bethany thought about what to say to make him smile. Ruffling his hair, she smiled at him and said, “I’ll think about it, Drew. But you should know, it’s not going to be easy finding someone who would marry me.”
Drew’s face lit up at his mother’s words. Sitting up, he kissed her on her cheek and she laughed. Kissing him back, she wiped his tear-stained cheeks. “Come on now. Alice and James are waiting for lunch. You don’t want to miss the pasta,” she reminded him. Grinning, he leapt out of bed. Leaving his room, he treaded down the stairs with Bethany, hand in hand.
Chapter 5
French Prairie, Willamette Valley, Oregon
The weather was getting warmer as the harvest time approached. Matthew was looking forward to his first yield of sweet potatoes. With that came the selling. He had asked around the prairie about the Townsend brothers. Most of the farm owners he had spoken to had good things to say about them. It was only after his inquisitions that he decided to visit their office in Portland.
It was early morning when he ordered Fred to saddle his horse. Eating his breakfast quickly, he dressed in attire suitable for a town visit: an off-white frontier vest and brown range wear trousers with black boots. Staring at himself in the mirror, he smoothed his dirty blond hair and put on his dark brown hat. He felt overdressed, being used to wearing simple clothes fit for a farmer. Strapping on his watch, he went outside to where his horse stood, neighing and tossing its head around.
“He doesn’t like me.” Fred said, looking a little distraught.
“Easy there,” Matthew said, approaching the horse gently. Placing his hand on its beautiful black mane, he stroked it smoothly. The horse quieted down in Matthew’s presence.
“Good boy!” Patting its neck, he climbed onto its back and settled down in the saddle. He glanced at Fred and said, “I’ll be gone a while. Make sure to keep the rifle with you in case any raiders show up.” Pulling on the reins, he rode away, off to a town he’d never been to before.
The prairie was behind him as Matthew continued to ride at a leisurely pace. It was a fine morning. The sun wasn’t too bright yet. He took out a map of the area from his back pocket and looked around. He realized he had about four miles ahead of him before Portland began. He could see it in the distance.
The area between the Prairie and Portland was scarcely populated. He had crossed a native settlement a while back. He wondered what they felt like, their lands being taken up by the pioneers. Thinking of his family, he wondered if they were missing him as much as he was missing them. Reminiscing about them made him realize just how lonely he had been since he arrived here. Back in Nebraska, in his hometown of Omaha, his mother had been searching around for the perfect girl for him. He had indulged her, even meeting a few his mother had picked out for him. But there were none that he fancied. They all seemed too dainty and naive. He wanted someone who was diligent, strong and responsible, someone who could look after him and his home. Someone he could grow to love. Looking back, he understood he had not been ready to commit to anyone, which was why he rejected every girl he was introduced to. He was still quite young, turning twenty seven last December. His father had taught him the ways of farming since he was a little boy. It had seemed fascinating to him as a child, the feeling of the wet soil under his toes as he planted the seeds beside his father, sowing the seeds then waiting and watching the crops grow. The time of harvest had an air of accomplishment about it. All of their hard work paid off. This was why he loved what he did. It was something he would surely love to do for the rest of his life and would eventually teach to his children.
Looking ahead, he saw that he had reached the outskirts of Portland. “Only a mile to go,” he told himself. Nudging the horse with his feet, he rode a little quicker, wanting to be done with the deal as quick as possible. He did not feel too comfortable leaving the farm with only Fred and Leroy in charge.
Within minutes he had entered Portland. Taking out the Townsend brothers’ card and the map, he located the street and rode in that direction. A few turns later, he had arrived at their office.
It was a two story brick building with huge windows on each floor. The horse slowed down to a stop in front of it. Matthew dismounted, tying the ropes to a lamppost outside the office. This street wasn’t as busy as the ones he had passed, he noticed, looking around him as he made his way into the office.
Stepping inside, the first thing he noticed was the noise: some men were busy talking to each other while others were bent over their typewriters, typing away furiously. It was a trading company after all. They had their hands full, assembling all the documents and recording their purchases. Feeling out of place, he asked where he could find either Chris or Thomas. A middle-aged man wearing a monocle directed him upstairs.
Halfway up the stairs, Matthew stumbled into someone hurrying down. It was Chris. Stepping back, Chris apologized then looked at him twice. Recognition dawned on his face, and he seemed pleased.
“You came,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “For a while I thought you wouldn’t.”
Matthew took off his hat and replied, “Well it took me some time. But I’m here now.”
“Come on up. My brother will be glad to see you.”
Following Chris, he walked up the narrow stairs to the second floor. It was much quieter than the one below. There were hardly any people on this floor. A young boy not older than eighteen or nineteen sat behind a desk outside a room he reckoned belonged to the brothers.
“This
is my cousin Mason. We made him our personal assistant.” He smirked at Mason, who seemed annoyed at his older cousin’s teasing remark. Turning to Matthew he greeted him politely then busied himself with paperwork. Matthew entered the main room behind Chris. Thomas was writing something when he realized he was not alone. Looking up to see his brother standing with Matthew, he smiled broadly and stood up to welcome him.
“Look who it is! Have you decided to give us a chance then, Mr. Russell?”
“Call me Matthew, and yes I have. I will be harvesting soon and I need to sell as many of my root vegetables as I can to you.”
“Good to know that, Matthew. Take a seat. I’ll get you our standard contract.”
Chris left them to finalize their deal. He headed out just as Thomas called out to Mason loudly, asking him to bring the forms. Within minutes, Matthew had read the contract and inked the deal. He would be selling his yield of crops in batches throughout the season.
It was noon when he left their office. Reaching his horse, he noticed a newsstand by the corner of the street. Picking up one of the newspapers he bought one from the old man selling them and flicked his eyes across the front page. There were reports of some pioneers losing their lives along the trails. It was tragic. He could’ve been one of them, he thought. Folding it over, he was about to put the paper in his back pocket when something caught his eye. There was an advertisement section full of personal ads-- men seeking out wives. He read a couple of them, wanting to write one himself. He decided he would think it through on the way to his house, and then write exactly what he wanted in a wife.
Chapter 6
Bethany was getting more and more anxious each day. Time flew by faster than she had hoped. With only a couple of weeks to go before the deadline, she had only managed to save a few dollars. She had gone to a thrift store to sell her necklace but was told it wasn’t worth much as the cross was gold plated, not pure gold. She had tried to sell a few of her embroidery works, but without a shop of her own, it didn’t garner much money. She had a hundred dollars saved. She needed a hundred more but was fresh out of options. This house wasn’t in her name. It belonged to David’s uncle, who lived in England. He had been David’s guardian and had let him stay here while he returned to London. A year after David’s death, his uncle had taken pity on Bethany and had allowed her to stay in his house until she found a place of her own.
Romance: Western Mail Order Bride Bethany's Love -Clean Christian Historical Romance (Western Mail Order Bride Short Shorties Series) Page 2