McKenzie

by Penny Zeller

  “I should think you’d have a lot of women interested,” said Lucille with a giggle that made her sound like a silly schoolgirl. “If I’d had a daughter instead of three sons, I would have wanted her to marry you.”

  “Thank you, Lucille,” Zach said and blushed. In a way, he wished Lucille had a daughter. Even though she probably would have been several years older than Zach, at least it would have saved him the time, hassle, and embarrassment of advertising for a wife. As it was, there were few unmarried women in Pine Haven, and absolutely none with whom he was interested in spending the rest of his life.

  “You’re welcome, Zach. Now tell Davey, Rosemary, and everyone else hello for me, and I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

  Zach nodded and stepped out the door, then made his way to his wagon, into which he loaded the sack of flour. If this harebrained idea ever worked, he would be amazed. Still, he’d spent much time praying to God for wisdom, discernment, and guidance on this issue. One item was of chief importance: Davey needed a mother. If God led Zach to a woman, she would be the right one—of that, Zach was certain.

  ***

  “Well, what do you think?” Lucille asked Zach the next morning when he finished reading the advertisement she’d written.

  Zach rolled his shoulders in an upward manner, as he always did when he was nervous, and read the handwritten words again:

  Twenty-five-year-old rancher in Montana Territory looking for possible matrimony. Man of integrity with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and shy demeanor seeks a kind, educated, hardworking, Christian woman with good disposition with whom to share his life. Must be willing to relocate. Please correspond by mail to Mr. Zach Sawyer, Pine Haven, Montana Territory.

  “I don’t know, Lucille.”

  “I think it sounds great,” said Lucille. “You know, my writing expertise would draw a fair wage in some parts of the country.”

  She stared at him for a moment before speaking again. “I’ve mentioned your age and appearance, and what you’re after—possible matrimony. By saying ‘possible,’ you give yourself the option to decline, should the replies prove unsatisfactory. Second, I’ve written what you are looking for in a woman.” Lucille grinned and leaned closer to him. “Was I not right in what you desire in a wife? I believe the only thing I failed to mention, and I can easily add, is that you desire someone beautiful.”

  “Don’t add that, Lucille. A woman might not find herself beautiful, even though I might, and then she wouldn’t respond. I reckon you could leave it as is.”

  “You don’t sound too pleased. I’ll have you know, Zachary Sawyer, I stayed up half the night to write this. I changed the wording no fewer than fifteen times, and I made you to sound like a highly educated man.” Her voice rose to the pitch it always had when she’d scolded her sons for eating one too many cookies before supper.

  “Thank you, Lucille. I appreciate all the time and work you’ve put into this. By the way, I’m not uneducated. I went to a fine city school before my parents died, and the orphanage where I grew up did offer more than sufficient lessons.”

  “Oh, I know that. I didn’t mean to make it sound as though you weren’t intelligent; I just wanted the women reading the advertisement to realize you were educated to some degree. You see, some women might see the words ‘Montana Territory’ and think you are a backwards fellow without much schooling. We want to prevent anyone from drawing conclusions of that sort.” Lucille patted him on the arm. “Now, you take this and mail it today.” She pointed at the post office a few buildings down, as if Zach was ignorant of its location, even after all the years he’d lived in Pine Haven.

  “All right, Lucille. Thank you again.”

  “Now, you promise me, Zach, that you’ll go right over and have Mr. Victor mail it right away. As you can see, I have copied it over five times—no quick task, I might add—so that you can mail it to the five newspapers on this list. These are some of the finest newspapers in the East, including Marriage Times and the Boston Herald.” Lucille grabbed the stack of copies from Zach and added the listing of newspapers to it. Then, she tapped them on the counter several times to line them up in perfect order before handing them back to Zach.

  “I don’t know, Lucille. Maybe it’s not the right thing to do. I mean, Davey does have Rosemary….”

  “Rosemary is one of my closest friends, and she’s a grand influence on Davey, but he needs a ma. Plus, you need a wife. Now go, Zach, and mail the advertisement. Then, come back over and have a piece of my world-famous, homemade honey bread.” Lucille adjusted her thick glasses on her nose and gestured with her right hand toward the door.

  “All right, Lucille, I’ll do it.”

  Zach sighed as he headed for the post office. Lord, please let this be the right thing to do, he silently prayed. The last thing I want to do is make an error, because there’s so much at stake. The last thing Zach wanted to do was receive an answer from a woman who had no desire to be a mother and who lacked love for the little boy who’d joined his life and had planted seeds of untold love in his heart.

  CHAPTER THREE

  September 20, 1881 • Boston

  McKenzie thumbed through the pages of the Boston Herald until she came to the section of listings written by men seeking women to travel west to become their brides. What they had to offer was just what she would need during her rescue mission: money for the trip and a place to stay, as well as the help of a man in finding Kaydie and taking her away from her husband once she’d been found. Becoming a mail-order bride seemed like a viable way of fulfilling these needs.

  McKenzie sighed as she gazed at the overwhelming list, spaced in perfect columns. Her eyes had a difficult time focusing on the endless calls for brides. When she realized there was more than one page of listings to peruse, she fought the dizziness threatening to overwhelm her. Was she really succumbing to this? She felt momentarily sick at the thought. It will all be worth it to have Kaydie back, she reassured herself. Having a place to stay while she searched for her sister was crucial. There weren’t hotels in many of the towns in Montana Territory, and there was no telling how long it might take her to find Kaydie.

  As her eyes searched the newspaper print, McKenzie mentally dismissed all the advertisements posted by lonely miners in California. The thought of being wed to a gold-grubbing man disgusted her. She could only imagine the filthy lifestyle she’d be forced to endure. Besides, most of those men were likely twice her age, and the idea of marrying a man old enough to be her father was repulsive. Yes, she had limits, even when it came to saving her sister. There was only so much sacrificing she could and would do. There was only so much she would force herself to endure, even if it was to be temporary.

  With a pencil, she continued to cross out advertisements in states and territories other than Montana. She only needed to find an offer in the Montana Territory, perhaps the Wyoming Territory, if she was desperate. Judging from the map, the two weren’t too far apart.

  When she had finished round one of her search, McKenzie flipped to the second page. Tapping her pencil in frustration on her mahogany desk, she thought of the work this endeavor was producing—and she hadn’t even begun the difficult part. What if she were really searching for a husband? Thankfully, that was not the case. Yet, she knew of women who were that desperate. At twenty-four, she was anxiously nearing the point when many women become bound for spinsterhood. Her own family refused to let her forget for a moment that she was the only unmarried Worthington sister and that she wasn’t getting any younger. Still, McKenzie wasn’t so desperate that she would seek a stranger thousands of miles away with whom to spend her life. Surely, a fine, upstanding Boston man would be proud to have her as his wife. Yet, none had stepped forward to ask for her hand. McKenzie returned her thoughts to the newspaper. Yes, she would do just about anything, including marry a stranger, if only to bring her beloved sister back to Boston.

  Advertisement after advertisement yielded no hope, and McKenzie was about to g
ive up when she spied, in the bottommost box, an advertisement written in a smaller font than the rest, as if the newspaper had suddenly decided to conserve ink.

  Twenty-five-year-old rancher in Montana Territory looking for possible matrimony. Man of integrity with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and shy demeanor seeks a kind, educated, hardworking, Christian woman with good disposition with whom to share his life. Must be willing to relocate. Please correspond by mail to Mr. Zach Sawyer, Pine Haven, Montana Territory.

  McKenzie’s eyes widened. The words “Montana Territory” jumped out at her, and she read them three times to be sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Maybe this won’t be such a horrendous task after all, she thought. At least this Mr. Sawyer was only a year older than she, and the combination of blue eyes and dark brown hair did sound somewhat appealing. Besides, she recognized the name of the town of Pine Haven from when she’d studied a map of the Montana Territory at the library.

  McKenzie could only hope that Pine Haven was close to the area where Kaydie had been when she’d penned her last letter.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I suppose no woman in her right mind would want to move from the modern conveniences of the East to the unknown West,” Zach sighed as he finished his daily work in the barn.

  “So, I take it there have been no responses to your advertisement?” Asa, one of his hired hands, asked.

  “Not yet. I placed the advertisement in five different newspapers over a month ago. Surely, I should have heard by now. Of course, it was probably the silliest idea I’ve ever agreed to in my life. That Lucille can be pretty convincing. When she first mentioned the plan, I thought it might all work out. Then, when she offered to help me write the advertisement, I was even more convinced.”

  “Ah, I wouldn’t let it get you down—not yet, anyway,” Asa said in his characteristic Irish accent. He walked over and patted Zach on the shoulder. “These things take time. Be patient, my friend.”

  Zach sighed. “I’ve prayed about it every night, so I guess it must not be in the Lord’s will for me to receive a reply.”

  “Ah, you give up too soon. The Lord has great plans for you, Zach. He knows the woman you are meant to marry. Leave it in His hands.”

  “Believe me, Asa, I’m trying, but it’s hard to be patient, especially since every time I go into town, I’m asked by at least a dozen people if I’ve received a reply.”

  “Well, that’s the nosy townsfolk for you. I do think that many of them do have your best interests at heart. Unfortunately, I think Lucille had a hand in sharing the news with those who shop at the mercantile, which is just about everyone. Still, waiting is never easy, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  Zach nodded and looked at the man before him. Asa had a reputation for being wise, and his advice had always confirmed that fact. He stood five feet eight inches tall and had a stocky build with graying brown hair and eyes that nearly disappeared when he laughed. He’d been married to Rosemary for almost thirty years and had dedicated his life not only to his wife, but also to his Creator. “I know you’re right, Asa. It’s just that when I promised to adopt Davey, I had hoped that the Lord would someday give me the blessing of a wife to be his mother.”

  “Is having a mother for Davey your top reason for wanting a wife?” Asa asked.

  Zach was thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose that is a big part of it. But I would like to marry and share my life with the woman God has planned for me.”

  “Good. I’m glad a mother for Davey is not your top reason. That’s not a good foundation on which to build a marriage. I believe God has just the woman for you, not only to be your wife, but also to be Davey’s mother. Let’s wait on His perfect timing, shall we?”

  Zach nodded, knowing that Asa was right. “Maybe God is working some patience into me,” he chuckled, knowing that patience had never been a virtue he possessed. “So, how did you and Rosemary meet?” he asked, changing the subject. Of all the years he’d known the couple, he’d never heard the story of their courtship.

  “Ah, my sweet Rosemary, the love of my life….” Asa’s face lit up. “I lived at her parents’ boarding house.”

  “Really?” Zach asked.

  “Yes. I know some people don’t believe it, but for me, seeing Rosemary was…well, it was love at first sight. I just knew that someday she would be my wife.”

  “You knew that quickly?”

  “Something inside me just knew. Of course, her pa had other plans for her. He didn’t want her marrying some Irish drifter.”

  “Who wouldn’t like you, Asa?” The thought of someone finding Asa less than agreeable was shocking to Zach.

  “Ah, there are some I am sure don’t like me. I think, for Rosemary’s pa, it was that he didn’t approve of me. After all, I had come to work in the mines and had not a penny to my name. I was a scrawny lad back then with a quick wit—which, at times, got me into some trouble. Rosemary’s pa and I started off on the wrong foot, so that didn’t help matters. Besides, there was this fellow by the name of Charles, whom Rosemary’s pa wanted her to marry. His parents owned the mercantile to the right of the boarding house, and he was an upstanding citizen with a lot of potential.” Asa chuckled. “See, when you get me started on a story, it’s always a long one.”

  “I love hearing your stories, Asa. Please, go on.”

  “Well, you see, Rosemary and Charles had courted briefly, but it seemed that while Charles would make a suitable husband, Rosemary had no feelings for him. She’d known him all her life and thought of him more as a brother.” Asa’s eyes twinkled. “I think Rosemary found me an exciting alternative to the rather bland Charles, but you’d have to ask her that, yourself. Anyhow, I think she tried to love Charles and conjure the feelings of affection he carried for her, but it wasn’t meant to be. I asked her pa after five months of knowing him if I could be allowed the privilege of courting his daughter. By this time, Rosemary’s ma—she was a great woman—had spoken to her husband about their daughter’s lack of interest in Charles, so I believe he was more open to the idea of his daughter’s being courted by me. To make a long story short, Rosemary and I fell in love, and I asked for her hand in marriage three months later. I thank God every night that He gave me Rosemary. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

  Zach smiled at his friend and hoped that, someday, he’d be able to say that about a woman God had chosen for him.

  “You know, Zach, it never mattered to us too much that we never were able to have children,” Asa continued. “Rosemary had seven younger brothers and sisters, so she’d felt like she’d already raised a family. Plus, it’s allowed us to step into the role of parents to those who needed us.”

  “You both sure have been a blessing to me,” Zach said.

  “Ah, and likewise, Zach. We were so thankful you offered us this job. With my back, not many folks are eager to hire me anymore.”

  “It was actually because of Rosemary’s fine cooking that I hired you both,” Zach joked, jabbing Asa playfully in the ribs.

  “Ah, I see how it is. Have a serious conversation, and the truth comes out!” Asa jabbed him back, and they both laughed. “Why don’t we go in and see what that sweet Rosemary has made us for dinner tonight?”

  “I agree. Thanks, Asa, for your advice.”

  “Anytime, my friend. I offer it free of charge.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  McKenzie sat down at her desk to pen a letter in response to the advertisement. Making her penmanship even more precise than usual, she took pains to be sure her writing accentuated her education and her life of privilege. Starting to the left of her monogrammed stationery, she wrote:

  September 20, 1881

  Dear Mr. Sawyer,

  This letter is in response to your advertisement in the Boston Herald regarding a mail-order bride. I believe I meet the qualifications you specified in your advertisement.

  My name is McKenzie L. Worthington. I am a Boston native, twenty-four years
of age, possess an outgoing demeanor, and am well educated. I am the middle child of three daughters born to Arthur and Florence Worthington, and, for generations, our family has attended Fourth Street Presbyterian Church.

  I look forward to receiving your response.

  Most sincerely,

  McKenzie L. Worthington

  1589 Wild Willow Avenue

  Boston, Massachusetts

  McKenzie read the letter, crumpled it up, pulled out a fresh piece of stationery, and rewrote it. She had to make her first impression her best, and, by all appearances, her script needed improvement. She could hear the words of her fourth grade teacher, Miss Webstell, in her mind as if they had been said just yesterday: “Now, McKenzie Worthington, I expect each of those letters to rest comfortably and conveniently on the lines of the paper. What you have handed in as your assignment will never do. Please rewrite the first seven lines, and, when you feel they would meet my scrutiny, you may turn your paper in to me.”

  Satisfied that her letter would have met Miss Webstell’s approval, McKenzie folded it carefully and placed it in the lilac-colored envelope, which she sealed. As she affixed a stamp in the upper right-hand corner, she willed the anxious feeling in her stomach to flee. After all, she wasn’t really searching for a husband. Why, then, did she feel as though something exciting was about to happen?

  ***

  As Zach approached the post office, he saw Lucille Granger leaning out the window of the mercantile, her head craned to the right, as if on the lookout for him. When he stopped his wagon in front of the post office, she rushed outside and onto the porch. “Zach! Did you hear the news?”

  Lucille’s short, squatty legs carried her down the stairs, and her boxy frame waddled across the dusty street, her bonnet flying behind her. She struggled to keep her pink calico dress from tripping her, using one hand to hold up her dress while waving wildly with the other.