Mail Order Man

by Heather Gray

  The girls extinguished the lantern and climbed quietly into bed. As Sarah drifted off to sleep, she found herself wondering what Samuel would think of her revelation. She wondered if he found her boring and if he liked the adventurous type more.

  ****

  Morning came bright and early for Sarah. She wanted to get to the stage office early so she could get a head start on the mail. Discouragement and a bit of apathy fought for attention as she wondered if her sorting all those letters would even matter. With so many eligible men showing up in town, perhaps none of the women would even be interested in the letters. There was no help for it, though. Something had to be done about all those letters, and the job fell to her. Not normally prone to romantic notions, Sarah couldn’t help but wonder about some of the eligible females in town and the sort of men they might possibly meet through this advertisement Minnie had placed.

  As Sarah came down the stairs, she heard voices coming from the parlor. Her heart fluttered erratically in her chest as she recognized one of the voices to be Samuel’s. She was hungry for breakfast but too keen to see what had brought him to the mayor’s house so early in the morning, so she opted for the parlor rather than the kitchen. A smile on her face, she stepped off the final stair and pivoted toward the parlor.

  “Ah, my dear, there you are,” said Mrs. Smith. “William asked Samuel to escort you to the stage office this morning and to remain with you until the Martinez boys arrive for the day. He would have escorted you himself, but he was certain he’d be tied up with mayoral business from dusk ‘til dawn over the coming days.”

  Mrs. Smith’s cheeks were rosier than usual. Sarah almost asked if the woman was feverish but decided perhaps that wasn’t the sort of question one asked in mixed company. If Samuel hadn’t been present, she wouldn’t have hesitated to ask after Mrs. Smith’s health. Seeing no help for it, Sarah collected her shawl and handbag and headed toward the front door. Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, she stepped through the door as Samuel held it open for her. She moved slowly as they walked down the front steps and headed toward the street.

  ****

  Samuel was about to ask her how she was doing when Sarah blurted, “I’ll be right back.” She then dashed back up the steps and through the front door.

  In awe of how quickly she moved with a dress on, Samuel was still deciding whether to follow Sarah and see if something was wrong when she came darting back out the front door and joined him on the walkway again, acting as if nothing was amiss.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked congenially.

  “Yes, yes, everything is fine. I needed to ask Mrs. Smith something.”

  Seeing he was going to get no additional information from his companion, Samuel’s lips curved upward with curiously good humor as he wondered about the puzzle that was Miss Sarah Jenkins. “So tell me, Sarah, how are you this fine morning?”

  “Fine, fine. A bit flustered, but fine.”

  “Flustered, huh? I don’t hear that word often. What has you flustered?” A soft blush touched Sarah’s cheeks, and Samuel found himself wondering if perchance Sarah was not used to being the center of attention. It was quite a shame. How could such a lovely young woman go about life without getting fawned over on occasion? Samuel could see only one remedy to the problem. He would simply have to shower her with attention. He was, after all, a man willing to make sacrifices for the greater good.

  “I am used to my morning routine, and waking up somewhere different this morning disrupted my routine in more ways than one.”

  “Would you say, then,” asked Samuel, “you are a woman of habit?”

  “That’s a rather personal question, I believe,” Sarah answered with a smile in her voice. “Is being a woman of habit a bad thing?”

  Samuel laughed at her question, enjoying the banter that seemed to become easier for her with each step they took. “Depends. What kind of habit are we talking about? For example, are you used to starting each day with a brandy and a cigar?”

  “Mr. Livingston! I dare say, such a habit would indeed be a bad thing.” Sarah reacted with indignation, exactly as Samuel had intended. “What sorts of habits are bad for men, then? Do you make a habit of starting each day by poking fun at the local women?”

  Samuel did not have to look down at Sarah to see the humor on her face; he could plainly hear it in her voice. My, my, but he was enjoying the company of this woman. She was intelligent, showed potential for great humor and could hold her own in a conversation. He was thoroughly charmed by her.

  As they arrived at the stage office, Samuel took the key from Sarah in order to unlock and open the door for her. He picked up their conversation, asking, “So what sorts of habits got disrupted this morning?”

  “Well, breakfast for one,” Sarah answered dryly. Samuel found her tone amusing. “Not only did I miss breakfast, though, oh no. That would be too easy. I also forgot to pack my lunch. This is going to be a long day. I shall start the stove and make some coffee.” With that, Sarah pulled her apron off of the hook and got to work.

  Samuel took the Closed sign out of the door as he spoke. “Let me get the stove started for you. Why don’t you get yourself organized with all of this mail, and I will help you begin to go through it. Did the mayor speak to you about that?”

  Nodding smartly, Sarah answered, “He gave me a list of who was approved by the council to help sort through all this mail. You were on the list.” Then, pointing to the back supply room, she added, “I will start the stove. You go get three crates for me from the supply room. Line them up against the back wall behind the counter. Then haul one of the bags of mail over next to the crates and see if you can find us some chairs back there as well.”

  Samuel nodded and went to work, enjoying Sarah’s take-charge attitude but also noticing how she relegated all of the heavy lifting to him. He couldn’t help but tease Sarah as he headed to the supply room. “I don’t like being able to see through my coffee. Just remember that!”

  ****

  Sarah huffed as she got the fire started. A short while later she was distracted by the sight of Samuel walking in, carrying all three crates at once. She was so preoccupied, in fact, she failed to count how many scoops of grounds she put into the coffeepot. Realizing her mistake, she rolled her eyes and hoped for the best.

  As the coffee was starting to percolate, Sarah and Samuel settled into their chairs and began to pull letters out of the mailbag and put them into neat piles. Sarah instructed Samuel, “Right now we are simply dividing the letters into three categories. The first crate is for vulgar letters. This second crate here is for uneducated letters, and the last one is for educated letters. If you read one and aren’t sure, put it aside, and I will take a look at it.”

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be, but I’m still shocked we need a crate for vulgar letters,” spoke Samuel. “Surely no man hoping to catch the eye of a bride would knowingly be vulgar in his letter.”

  Sarah shrugged and replied, “I don’t suppose all of these men truly want a wife. I have decided some people find satisfaction in shocking and upsetting others. That is why men write vulgar letters and why they accost women passing on the boardwalk, I imagine.”

  Samuel agreed, “Add alcohol to the mix, and you have another whole group of men who will write, say, and do things which reflect an inner character they wouldn’t normally demonstrate publicly.”

  Sarah nodded absently as she read the letter in her hands. She burst out into laughter at something the writer had said. She felt Samuel’s eyes on her and peeked up in time to see his raised eyebrow. In answer to his implied question, she said, “He is a funny, funny man. I hope he finds someone who will appreciate that.” She then tucked the letter back into its envelope and placed it in the middle crate.

  “Uneducated?” Samuel questioned.

  “Yes,” Sarah answered. “Don’t let that fool you, though. Lack of formal education does not mean a person isn’t smart or charming or funny or capable of providing for
a wife and children. I believe you pointed that out last evening.”

  Samuel continued looking at Sarah as if in expectation. When she said nothing more, he finally asked, “Do I get to read the letter?”

  Sarah giggled. “Not a chance! You will find plenty of gems of your own.” Smiling, she quickly whipped out another letter and stuck her nose into it.

  The two sat in companionable silence for another several minutes, quickly reading through letter after letter. Not many letters were making it into the vulgar crate; however, content in a few of the letters shocked Sarah. She assumed that Samuel was equally taken aback by some of the subjects covered by the writers.

  ****

  “Sarah, can I ask you something?”

  “Hmm?” Sarah replied.

  “The vulgar letters don’t seem to bother you much. Can I ask why?”

  “Bother me in what way?” she asked.

  “I don’t know exactly. Either they don’t get to you, or you don’t show it. I’m genuinely curious. I’ve been deeply offended on the behalf of every eligible female in the town several times already by some of the letters I’ve read.”

  Samuel didn’t even know what kind of answer he hoped to get from Sarah or why it mattered to him, but he knew her answer to this question was important.

  “Well, for starters, I say a little prayer before each letter, asking God to give me wisdom. That definitely helps. Then, when I come across a letter that has something vulgar in it, I immediately put it back in its envelope and into the correct crate. I don’t even bother reading the rest of the letter. So that way, if a single letter has ten offensive things in it, I’ve only let myself get exposed to one of those things. It’s easier to get over one offense than it is to get over ten.” Sarah shrugged delicately, an unspoken question on her face.

  Samuel smiled at Sarah and said, “I am impressed by the thought you’ve put into all this. I have a compulsion to always finish what I start. It never would have occurred to me to stop reading a letter partway through. I think I’ll do it your way from now on.”

  “Reverend Green is going to read through all of the letters that end up in the first crate to make sure we haven’t made any mistakes. So if I do judge someone too harshly on the first read through, I trust him to prayerfully catch such mistakes when he reviews the letters. I believe if God wants one of these men to meet one of the eligible ladies of our town, then He will see to it, even if I accidentally put a letter in the wrong crate. As long as I do my best to make sure I put the letters where they ought to be, I believe God will honor my effort even if I make mistakes, precisely as He will honor yours. When I know I am giving it my best effort, I don’t let myself feel too guilty about mistakes. It would be different if I was being careless or not truly trying to do a good job.”

  ****

  Right then Claudio and Cesar came through the door. Both boys chimed a “Good morning!” in Sarah’s direction as they headed straight for the coffee on the stove. Sarah saw their intent and inwardly cringed. Not only was she not sure about how many scoops of grounds she’d put in, but the coffee had been percolating much longer than normal because she got distracted with the letters.

  Samuel had his back to the stove and did not see the boys as they each poured a cup of coffee. Sarah was about to warn them as Claudio, the middle boy at age 16, took a big swig of the hot brew while Cesar, the youngest, opted to blow on his first. Claudio’s eyes grew wide as he swallowed. “Miss Sarah, I do believe that’s the best coffee you’ve ever made. That’s the kind of coffee vaqueros drink!”

  Samuel visibly perked up at the mention of coffee. Sarah was sure he couldn’t know a vaquero was a Mexican cowboy and that they drink their camp coffee strong. If he understood what the boys were saying, he definitely wouldn’t be in a hurry to get a cup of his own. Cesar finally took a drink of his coffee. Sarah could see him trying not to make a face as he swallowed the brew. “Vaquero coffee for sure, Miss Sarah. Papa would be proud.”

  Sarah had barely started to warn, “Uh, Samuel…” when he took a big gulp of the coffee Claudio had poured for him. She watched the shock on his face as he first paled and then grew red. His eyes flew wide as he tried desperately to swallow the coffee. He finally ran out the front door and spit the coffee out over the edge of the stage platform.

  The boys could not contain their howling laughter as Samuel walked back into the stage office, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That has got to be the vilest coffee I have ever had in my life. I know I said I didn’t want to see through it, but that didn’t mean I wanted it so strong it would eat clear through a tin cup!” Embarrassment coiled so quickly through her that it took a bit before Samuel’s teasing tone as he spoke to the boys registered with her. “Is life always such an adventure around here?”

  Claudio was the first to answer, “Miss Sarah, she gets distracted sometimes by her job. Anything on the stove is at risk. The coffee is never the same two days in a row.”

  Then, in a stage whisper, Cesar spoke, “That’s why we dump the coffee and make fresh when Miss Sarah isn’t looking.”

  Sarah was used to the boys’ banter but did not generally participate in it. Determined to turn over a new more lighthearted leaf, she declared, “Oh boys! It’s not as bad as all that.” When Claudio and Cesar only raised their eyebrows and stared at her, she laughed, “Okay, I can’t lie. It is that bad, but still, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “Hey!” said Claudio, “I was on your side! I said it was good vaquero coffee, didn’t I? The kind of coffee that keeps you up all night and makes your dog howl for days. It’s these jokers,” he said as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Cesar and Samuel, “who are raising such a fuss.” To prove his point, Claudio tipped back his cup and drained the rest of his coffee with gusto.

  Chapter Six

  Samuel left Sarah in the capable company of Claudio and Cesar. He needed to go collect Ida and escort her back to the stage office so she, too, could help sort through the mail. As he walked along the boardwalk, Samuel noticed several of the men staring at him oddly. He suddenly realized he was whistling. His whistling stopped abruptly as he realized how much attention he was attracting. What could he say? Sarah made him happy, and being happy made him whistle.

  Tipping his hat to all of the gentlemen who were staring at him, Samuel said jauntily, “Good day, gentlemen.” As their looks continued to follow him, Samuel picked up the pace and rounded the next corner before he got himself into too much trouble.

  Arriving back at John and Ida’s house a few minutes later, he knocked twice, and Ida let him in. John had thought it prudent to set up a code so Ida wouldn’t end up opening the door to just any man walking by.

  “Well, Samuel, I do say, that’s quite a smile on your face. What has you grinning so?”

  Samuel let his eyes wander around the small home Ida shared with John. Every inch of their house reflected the loving care of both Ida and John, from the crocheted doilies on the tables, made through Ida’s talent and hard work, to the tables themselves, a labor of love for John. Samuel grinned at his cousin and drawled, “Well, Ida, it’s like this. Rumor has it there is one amazing eligible female in the town of Larkspur, and I aim to get her for myself.”

  “Samuel Livingston! I do hope you aren’t speaking to the ladies like that. You’ll scare all of the eligible ones away, except maybe for Mrs. Wilkinson.”

  “Mrs. Wilkinson? You sure she’s eligible?”

  Picking up the lunch basket, Samuel decided she must have packed enough food for an entire band of coffee drinking vaqueros. They stepped through the front door out into the sunlight, and Samuel held his arm out for Ida.

  As she tucked her hand into his elbow, she beamed impishly at him and said, “Mrs. Wilkinson is a widow. She’ll be 88 years old next month and can’t hear a word anyone says to her.” Samuel hooted in laughter. He had missed Ida and her humor. Contentment settled all the way down into Samuel’s bones as he thought about settling i
n Larkspur.

  “You’re awfully cheeky. Does your husband know you talk to people like this?”

  “How do you think I snagged him?” Then, changing the subject, Ida asked, “So tell me, Samuel, how is your business in town going?”

  “I know what I want,” Samuel began. “And the mayor knows what I want, but I’ve been asked to put everything on hold until this eligible female business is sorted out, and the town has returned back to a more normal pace of life without so many ruffians around.”

  “I see,” said Ida. “Is that going to be a problem for you? Will that make you want to go elsewhere? Surely you want a town that will be more excited about what you wish to do.”

  Samuel could hear the hesitation in Ida’s voice and pondered how to answer her. She continued, “We would love to have you settle here, but I understand if you decide you need to go elsewhere.”

  “Now Ida, I never said anything about going elsewhere,” spoke Samuel. “I have moved a lot and done business in a lot of different towns. It has always gone well, and I’ve not yet run into any major trouble. A battle here and there with a city council or with outlaws and jealous businessmen, but it’s always come pretty easy to me, including the part where I move on to the next town. I’ve never felt like I needed to stay anywhere, and so a town’s issues never much bothered me, you know? If I wasn’t going to stick around, why get involved, right?”

  Samuel glanced down at Ida to make sure she understood what he was saying. She was watching her step, but he could tell by her expression she was following his line of thought and waiting for him to continue.