Amandas's Mail Order Cowboy: The Story of A Mail Order Bride and Her Mail Order Husband (Mail Order Brides Book 14)

by Susan Leigh Carlton

  “Is that his number, the one you’re writing to?”

  “That’s his number, good old number 9206,

  chapter Nine

  At Last! An Answer!

  Rance opened the plain envelope with the Kansas City postmark. He found a letter responding to his ad. Someone named Number 9508. She’s a school teacher. Blonde hair and green eyes. She sounds like a grown up Abigail. Five feet six inches, and 128 pounds. Says she likes kids, else she couldn’t teach elementary level. That makes sense. Never been married. Sounds good to me. This one I’m going to answer.

  Rance decided to wait before answering the letter, since it would not get mailed until the next time he was in Cheyenne, which would be Sunday. He wanted time to think about the words he wanted to use. She’s a school teacher. I’ll have to watch my spelling. I wouldn’t want a failing grade on the first letter.

  Dear Number 9508. I received your most welcome letter three days ago, but since I am not in a place to mail it until Sunday, I wanted to make sure I got a passing grade on my spelling. I dug out my old Webster’s Dictionary to make sure of it. I hope you realize I’m kidding. You mentioned my being a guardian. Actually, she is not related. Her family owned the adjacent ranch and was attacked by the Sioux. Her mother, father and brother were all killed. My foreman and I saw the smoke from the burning barn, but it was all over by the time we got there. I found her under the bed. It was a couple of days before she said anything. She told me her mother had told her to be quiet and not to talk, so she was being a good little girl and doing as she was told. She’s two, and has blonde hair and blue eyes. She is going to be a heartbreaker. A judge appointed me as her guardian and we put the ranch in trust for her. In the meantime, I am going to need to get help for Consuela, who is our housekeeper, and is now caring for her, even though she denies needing it.

  She seemed to be getting better, until the other day, when some Indians came looking for food. She ran screaming from the room and got under her bed. It took me a while to coax her out.

  What are your likes? Your dislikes? Personally, I like being outdoors working. The cold weather in the winter reduces the chance for that, and I get restless. I don’t have much patience with someone content to just slide by. I’m not a perfectionist, but I do believe in giving it my best shot. I also don’t like to associate with those who prey on others

  As my ad said, I am six feet two inches tall and weigh 180 pounds. My hair is dark and so are my eyes. I attend the local Methodist Church and count the pastor as one of my best friends. My foreman and I have been friends since elementary school. I recently became friends with one of the local ranchers and his wife. They told me about the newspaper. They have a daughter slightly younger than our little girl. They also have a son from the wife’s first marriage.

  I look forward to your next letter. I wish it didn’t take so long.

  Yours truly, Number 9206.

  * * *

  Elmira, New York…

  “Amanda, you have some mail,” her mother said, when Amanda came in from school. “It appears to be from your newspaper.

  “When are you going to tell your father about this thing you’re doing?”

  “When I have something to tell him. Right now, the only things I have are some letters that I may or may not answer.

  “Mama, you know I love you and Papa, and I respect you, but you need to understand, I am going to do this regardless of whether you approve. If this continues to be a problem for you, then maybe it would be better if I did move to Mrs. Gill’s Boarding House. At least you wouldn’t be confronting it at every turn. I am a grown and mature woman. This is my decision to make and not yours. I’m beginning to regret having said anything to you about it.”

  “Mothers worry, Amanda. That’s all I’m doing. I’m concerned for your safety. Whether you’re here or at a boarding house doesn’t change that.”

  “You’re right. I concede your point,” Amanda said. “I’m sorry I spoke to you the way I did. I appreciate your concern, and I won’t talk about moving again. I will tell Papa when the time is right. Now, I hope this letter is from number 9206.”

  She went to her room, to read the letter in private.

  Good! It’s from 9206. When she read the part about the dictionary, she smiled. He has a sense of humor. The little girl is not a relative! She’s an orphan. What a horrible thing to happen to a little girl, losing her entire family. He seems to be kind and understanding. He had to coax her from under the bed. He’s apparently honest. He protected her interest and set up a trust for her. He’s looking out for her interests. He goes to church, and seems to have plenty of friends. Maybe it would put Mama’s mind at ease if she read this.

  “Mama, I think it might help if you read this. It is from number 9206, as I hoped. He seems to be a kind, sensitive person, and honest as well.”

  Her mother took the letter and sat at the kitchen table and read it. Then she read it again. She handed the letter back to Amanda. “Thank you for that, dear. It does help. If what he wrote is true, he does seem to be a kind and generous person.” She hugged her daughter. “I hope this works out for you, I really do. I will still worry about it and about you, but reading it makes me feel better.”

  “Thank you, Mama. I’m going to answer it tonight, so I can get it in the mail when I go to school in the morning,” Amanda said.

  chapter Ten

  So Many Questions

  Dear Number 9206, What a lovely letter, and what a terrible ordeal for a little girl to go through. She is lucky to have someone so sensitive and generous looking out for her interests. My mother has expressed a lot of concern about the course I’m pursuing here. I understand it comes from her love, so I gave her your letter to read, hoping it would allay some of her fears and it did that. In reading the letter and the problems with the Indians, I assume you are in one of the frontier states, as I know of no other area with hostiles. It sounds rather frightening when you consider what happened to the little girl’s family. Is life on the frontier difficult? I wonder what manner of things you must do without that we take for granted here. I also wonder about the school system; the difficulty in getting the things you need, where we would simply go to the store and buy what we need, your options must be limited. You mentioned friends and going to town to mail your letters. You apparently don’t have home delivery of mail, as we do. How far must you travel in order to get to the stores? I know there is now a transcontinental railroad, how far do you have to travel in order to use the rail service? I have so much curiosity and so many questions. After reading your letter last night, I spent the rest of the evening going over homework papers from my students. I did not grade your letter, however, I will if you like. Until the next time, and please make it soon, I remain,

  Sincerely, Number 9508.

  With her latest letter mailed and on its way to where ever number 9206 lived, Amanda lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. I wonder what he looks like.” As she fell asleep, she began to dream... Randall dragged her by the hair away from the house. A cowboy appeared, mounted on a white horse.

  The big horse reared on its two hind legs, knocking Randall back into the thorny rose bushes. With the hand no longer gripping her hair, Amanda stepped backward. The handsome cowboy leaned over and with one arm, scooped her up and across his saddle. The great white horse reared once again, landed and galloped away, leaving, Randall entangled in the rose bushes.

  She woke with a start, and rubbed her eyes. What a weird dream. While she slept, it had begun to get dark outside. She went downstairs just as her mother put dinner on the table.

  Her father was sitting in his favorite chair in the living room, the aromatic tobacco in his pipe flavoring the air. He was reading the Elmira Gazette.

  “Papa, I have something to tell you,” she began.

  “Yes,” he said. “What is it?”

  “Papa, I have been corresponding with someone, and I hope to marry him.”

  “Well good,” he said. “It’
s about time.”

  “Papa, I’m serious,” she said.

  He laid the paper down and gave her his attention. “Tell me about it.”

  She began by telling him about the newspaper and her ad, and how she had written to a man from another part of the country. “I received this letter from him, in answer to one I wrote,” she said. “I would like for you to read it.” She handed him the letter.

  He read the letter; then he read it again. “You’re serious about this?” he asked.

  “Yes, Papa, I’m serious. What do you think?” she asked.

  “I would worry about you going off to some place on the other side of the country to meet someone you don’t know. I think I understand your reason. It’s natural to want a family. Frankly, I hated to see you wasting yourself on someone like that Randall. He’s no good, but I didn’t want to interfere. You’re grown and old enough to make your own decisions, right or wrong. I hope this works for you.” He looked at her, and said, “You deserve someone kind and good, and this fellow seems to be that type.”

  “Thank you.

  “I’ll set the table, Mama,” she said.

  “I’m glad you told him,” her mother said.

  “I intended to tell him, but I wanted the time to be right, tonight seemed to be the right time,” Amanda said.

  * * *

  The Lazy K Ranch…

  A letter from Number 9508!

  I have been waiting for this.

  After reading through the letter two times, he decided to answer it right away.

  Dear Number 9508, It was so good to hear back from you. I guess I must have gotten at least a C+ on my letter, huh? I know my penmanship needs to improve, but I do the best I can considering what I have to work with.

  I don’t know how much Abby saw that day, no one does, but if she saw half of what I saw, it was far too much for anyone to see. (I might as well use her name, instead of saying the little girl, it makes it easier to talk about her.) Her name is Abigail, but I call her Abby. She is a precious girl, and when she smiles, it brightens the room. Unfortunately, she doesn’t smile very much. She is really bright, too. There is nothing special about my helping her. Out here, we take care of each other. The people here are a different lot. They are the friendliest you will find anywhere. If they have something you need, it’s yours for the asking.

  Your mother’s concern for your welfare is understandable. I’ve learned so much more about parental concern since Abby came into my life. I understand some of the things my mama did that I could not understand at the time.

  Life is hard on the frontier. There is a certain lawless element, but they are gradually being brought under control. We do have a public school system here now, with separate schools for elementary and high school. I went to a one-room school, where all grades were taught. I had a dedicated teacher, and mama was a stickler on education.

  The ranch is about seven miles from town, and I am usually there on Sunday. We have a well-stocked general store. Anything we need and they don’t have can be ordered by telegraph, and will be available in relatively short order. We also have a clothing store, a livery stable and a doctor.

  There’s talk of a hospital to be built. I think we have a fairly modern town; after all it is only about ten years old. The railroad has been here for several years. We’re on the Transcontinental Railroad line and are not too far from where the East met the West during the construction.

  Oh yes, the other question. We have not progressed to the point where there is home delivery of mail, even in town. Our post office is in a corner of the general store.

  I’ve run out of answers for now. I anxiously anticipate your next letter.

  Sincerely, Number 9206.

  The letter was mailed Sunday.

  chapter Eleven

  Amanda’s Decision

  They exchanged two more letters, with questions and answers about ranch life, school teaching and other things encountered in their day to day lives.

  Dear Number 9206,

  I have authorized the editor to release my name in this letter. My name is Amanda Taylor and I live in Elmira, New York. Elmira is an old town, compared to yours. It was created in 1788 under another name and became Elmira in 1808. It is about 230 miles from New York City. During the Civil War, there was a Confederate Prison Camp here. It did not have a sterling reputation. My ex-boyfriend worked there at one time. He turned out to not be such a sterling person either. Enough of that, and enough of the geography lesson.

  Mama is more comfortable with me writing now. My allowing her to read your letter was a stroke of genius on my part. I have not afforded her that opportunity again, preferring to keep them to myself. I feel she still has the same concern, but doesn’t vocalize it. She probably senses my resolve.

  I was glad to hear about the progressive nature of your town. Somehow, I had visualized your schools as all being of the one room type. As a teacher, I am simply amazed at how the teachers managed to teach anyone when all grades were in one room. How many students were there? Your description of the availability of merchandising was good news also. I would be most interested in learning about life on a ranch. Just what is involved? How in the world do you milk all of the cows, and what do you do with all of the milk? Still so many questions. Until the next time, I remain,

  Sincerely yours, Amanda Taylor

  * * *

  Lazy K Ranch…

  Amanda Taylor, now that is a nice name. Rance thought; as he sat down to compose his answer in a letter into which he had put a lot of thought.

  Dear Amanda, It was a most pleasant surprise to learn you had gained enough trust to give me your name. I appreciate it. I am Rance Kendall. I live on the Lazy K ranch outside Cheyenne, Wyoming. Let me explain the name, before you ask. Picture the letter K lying on its side. A lazy K if you will. It is also the brand we use to mark our cattle for identification purposes. On another point. We raise and sell cattle for food, not milk. Our beef is sold to the Army, the Cheyenne market, and shipped to packing houses in Kansas City and Omaha.

  As I mentioned in my last letter, we are about seven miles from town… Cheyenne. I have taken the liberty of asking my pastor Clem Hutchison to write a letter of reference for me. I’ve also asked my good friend Cal Pierce to write. I only gave them the newspaper address, so you should have no concerns there. I did this in hopes of lessening the fear of the unknown for both you and your parents.

  We’ve been corresponding for some three months now. Would you be willing to take the next step of meeting? I realize it would be a daunting experience for you to travel to Cheyenne unchaperoned. I have inquired at the train station regarding an itinerary. It would involve Elmira to New York City, thence to Chicago and Omaha, Nebraska. From Omaha, the rest of the way is on the same train. As I look at it, it frightens me. Nevertheless, I would like your thoughts on a meeting. Of course, I will pay for transportation and return if necessary. Please give this some thought. I eagerly await your response.

  Sincerely, Rance Kendall.

  Elmira two weeks later…

  Amanda found another letter in the mailbox two days later. It wasn’t from the newspaper. When she opened it, the handwriting was unique, and bold. It had a name and not a number… Cheyenne, Wyoming. That’s one of the places I guessed he lived. No wonder it’s cold. It’s on about the same latitude as we are, but a higher elevation.

  He wants us to meet. It sounds logical. It’s why we started writing. It is scary. Can I do that? Do I want to do that? I would never see my family again if I lived there. Changing trains three different times. What if I missed a train, or got on the wrong train. Would I have enough money to back track or return home? I don’t know.

  Amanda decided to share her thoughts.

  Dear Rance, A name. How nice to have a name after these months. It is not a name I’ve heard before. As soon as I read your letter, I went to the atlas to see where Cheyenne is located. It is almost the same latitude as Elmira, and a long way from New
York. Using a ruler, it would appear we are about sixteen hundred miles apart. When I read the itinerary you so thoughtfully provided, the three changes of trains is imposing. Three opportunities for me to miss a train or get on the wrong one. That bothers me quite a bit, since I’ve not had the opportunity to travel. It would be quite an adventure, one I’m not sure I’m capable of undertaking. I have to give it some thought. I’m sure how my parents would react to the idea, but it is my decision and not theirs. I’m not opposed to the idea of meeting; it is the getting there part. I will write again as soon as I decide whether I’m capable of such a challenge. I must apologize if I have led you on. The magnitude of such an undertaking had not settled on me until I was presented with the decision. I don’t have anyone to whom I can turn for advice.

  Sincerely, Amanda.

  Two days later, another letter came, this one from The Matrimonial News. It contained two letters, one of which had a feminine handwriting.

  Dear Number 9508,

  My name is Jennie Pierce, I am a neighbor of Rance Kendall. Rance asked my husband to write a letter of reference for him. My husband asked me to write the letter, since I have experienced the situation you are facing. First, Rance Kendall is a wonderful, thoughtful neighbor. We attend the same church. I find him to be a generous man who has undertaken the care of a small child orphaned in an Indian raid.

  The one thing I would like to share, is I am a mail order bride myself. Cal and I met through the same newspaper. When he was faced with my reluctance to travel, he came to South Carolina to fetch me and my son. We have a good, happy marriage and have a daughter ourselves. Gather your courage. It is worth it. Rance is a fine man and will make an excellent husband. I look forward to having you as a friend and neighbor.

  Sincerely, Jennie Pierce.

  Amanda went on to read the second letter. It began:

  Dear Number 9508. My name is Clem Hutchison, and I am the pastor of the Methodist Church in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Rance Kendall is one of my congregants and asked me to write a letter of reference attesting to his character. It is my pleasure to do as he asked. I regard it a privilege to have him among my closest friends. There is not a finer man in the entire territory. He is a generous donor to the church and is a friend to all.