Mail Order Man

by Heather Gray

  “Don’t get me wrong. The don’ts of our faith are important. Don’t commit murder. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Those are all good. I believe, though, if we spend our time focusing on and doing the right things, then we won’t be nearly as tempted by the wrong things. If I am thinking about things that are pure and just and honest, am I going to rob someone? No. If I am thinking about the things that are virtuous and true, am I going to lie or murder? No.”

  Suddenly stopping, Samuel said, “Sorry, ladies. I didn’t mean to go on like that. Hope I didn’t bore you.”

  ****

  Sarah wasn’t sure she had ever seen a man look embarrassed before. The look was so charming on Samuel’s face she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Briefly, she wondered why he didn’t refer to the man who had raised him as his father. That thought drifted away, though, as Sarah concentrated on the continuing conversation.

  “Mr. Livingston?” spoke Mrs. Smith.

  “Yes ma’am?” he answered.

  “I think you did a fine job of helping us all to understand a few things, not solely about right living, but about you as well. Thank you for sharing your point of view with us. I applaud your position and think we could all do a little bit better in life if we remembered the dos.”

  Mrs. Smith looked like she was about to say something more when one of the deacons stepped up to the podium to announce the dessert auction would begin.

  Everyone in the crowd was looking forward to this. Sarah had counted ten women today wearing pink bandanas and more than thirty men wearing blue. Her eyes widened in surprise as she realized some of the men from Larkspur were sporting blue bandanas right along with the out-of-towners. She’d never have known any of these men were looking for a wife. Perhaps it hadn’t occurred to them to do so until this whole Eligible Female business came about.

  The women wearing pink bandanas ranged from young Mary Fitzgerald to Mrs. Alice Jones. Mary must be around seventeen years old. Her daddy was a widower who liked the bottle and didn’t treat his kids right at all. Both Sheriff Spooner and Reverend Green had tried to talk to him more than once to no avail. It was no wonder Mary wanted to get married and leave home. Sarah was surprised, though, because she’d always thought Mary had remained at home to help protect and take care of her younger siblings.

  Seeing Mrs. Jones with a pink bandana was also a bit of a shock for Sarah. Mrs. Jones had been a widow for nigh on thirty years. Sarah sighed at her own shortsightedness. Just because someone had been alone a long time didn’t mean they weren’t lonely, and it certainly did not mean the person truly wanted to be alone.

  Sarah was glad she had not put on a pink bandana or entered a dessert in the auction. The sheer number of men in the crowd was daunting.

  As the auction began, Samuel stood up and leaned back against the tree in a casual pose. Imagining that this gave him a better vantage point, Sarah still asked, “Why did you stand?”

  Samuel hesitated a moment before answering, “I can see better, and I can react more quickly if needed.” Not sure if his answer made her feel safer or in more danger, Sarah said, “Oh.”

  The women sporting pink bandanas lined up at the front. A chocolate cake so tall it looked like it would topple over at any minute was the first dessert to be auctioned. Sarah had tasted that same cake before at a different church picnic. Whoever won this particular auction, if he had any sense at all, would be down on one knee proposing before the day was over. The cake was that good.

  Sally, the woman who made the cake, was in her late thirties. Her two children were already grown and married. Gold fever had shanghaied her husband off to Alaska some years back. It was hard for the family, but she and her boys had managed. Word had come a year or so ago that her husband had been killed in an accident up north, but by then he had already been gone from their lives for a good half-dozen years or so. She and her boys had worked their farm by themselves all those years, but as the boys married, both had ended up moving away, leaving her alone with the farm. Sarah hoped Sally would be choosy as she sought a mate. A lot of men might marry her only for the farm she now owned.

  Bidding for Sally’s cake started at five cents and quickly climbed to two dollars. As some of the men dropped out of the bidding, it came down to two. The remaining men were polar opposites. One appeared to be about Sally’s age, was dressed in a suit and gave the impression of being the perfect gentleman. The other couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, had shaggy hair and, if the wear and tear his clothes showed was any indication, was used to hard work. Sally seemed nervous as the bidding continued to climb.

  When the bidding got to two dollars and fifty cents, the man in the suit bowed out, and both Sally and her triple layer chocolate delight cake went to join the young man at her blanket. If Sarah hadn’t been privy to the goings on in the mayor’s house this week, she might not have noticed the deputy who casually positioned himself near Sally’s blanket.

  The next three desserts were all auctioned off in quick succession to local men, and the women who accompanied the desserts appeared delighted. Mrs. Jones was up next. She stood at the front of the crowd, back ramrod straight. She had cleaned houses, done laundry, mended clothes and more for many of the people in this crowd. It wasn’t always easy for a woman alone to make it out west. Hard work had allowed her to scrape out an existence here, but the years had not always been kind to her. Sarah guessed Mrs. Jones to be in her fifties, but she came across as much older. When no one immediately bid on Mrs. Jones’ peach cobbler, Sarah felt her throat close in pain for the woman. Mrs. Jones could seem severe, but she was always respectful of others and had only ever been kind to Sarah.

  All of the desserts had started with an opening bid of five cents. An opening bid for Mrs. Jones’ dessert was not forthcoming, though, and it became apparent the auctioneer was going to have to drop the bid, which had not been needed yet today and would be an embarrassment for the older woman.

  A jolt went through Sarah as she heard Samuel’s voice confidently call out, “Fifteen cents!”

  No emotion flickered across Mrs. Jones’ face, but the deacon who was heading the auction was visibly relieved. Nobody made a fuss about Samuel’s bidding without wearing a blue bandana. The blacksmith, whose wife had passed away two months ago, bid next, offering twenty-five cents. He was not wearing a bandana either, and Sarah was certain his bid was out of kindness rather than matrimonial intentions. When Samuel countered with thirty cents, though, the crowd finally seemed to come to life, and men began bidding furiously, both those with bandanas and those without.

  Once the pace of the bidding picked up, both Samuel and the blacksmith bowed out. An older out of town gentleman, probably close to Mrs. Jones’ age, finally won the cobbler and her company with a bid of one dollar and ninety-five cents.

  Sarah twisted to face Samuel and silently mouthed the words, Thank you. He nodded his acknowledgement of her words and winked at her, then returned his eyes to the goings on around the churchyard.

  As the next desserts were all quickly auctioned off to out of town men, Sarah noted a deputy going to sit in the vicinity of each woman whose dessert went to anyone not locally known.

  When Mary Fitzgerald stepped up next to the deacon with a beautiful strawberry pie, Sarah heard Samuel say, “Something’s wrong.”

  All of the women on their blanket stared at him, but his eyes were riveted on Mary. Sarah wheeled back around to look at Mary and saw fear on the young girl’s face. She began scanning the crowd to find the source of the fear. Her eyes fell on Mary’s blanket where her four younger siblings sat, two boys and two girls.

  The boys were known for getting into trouble, but Sarah was hard pressed to blame them, considering what their home life was like. She had been privy to a couple of conversations between Ida and John and knew the teacher and his wife prayed for this family often. As Sarah watched the children, nothing seemed amiss. Then she saw that same look of fear come over the younger girls’ faces, a stark reflection
of Mary’s expression.

  As the deacon was about to start the bidding, Mr. Fitzgerald bellowed from the back of the crowd, “That’s my young’un and ain’t nobody bidding on her pie! I ain’t raising no harlot to get paid for her favors!”

  The crowd fell into shocked silence as his belligerence washed over them. Most everyone knew Mr. Fitzgerald had a drinking problem and was hard on his kids, but even then no one had expected a public spectacle of this kind. As Mr. Fitzgerald weaved his way up toward the front of the crowd, it became clear he was inebriated. He could barely stay on his feet, and if the pinched look on the women’s faces was any indication, his odor was none too pleasant as he passed.

  Reverend Green approached the man, “Now Charles, there’s no need to yell. We can sort this thing out.”

  When Charles Fitzgerald lunged at Reverend Green, one of the newly-appointed deputies jumped in and grabbed him from behind. The young deputy was no match for Mr. Fitzgerald’s fury, though. Fearlessness fed by anger and drink allowed the older man to throw the deputy to the ground and make another move toward the reverend. Fury and rage emanated from him like heat off the ground during a long summer day.

  Samuel kept his post, closely watching the drama unfold but staying where he could protect the ladies in his charge if needed.

  Reverend Green held up his hands to placate Mr. Fitzgerald as the man continued to yell obscenities. Sheriff Spooner quickly moved up behind Mr. Fitzgerald.

  Sarah could hear Reverend Green saying, “I understand where you’re coming from, and we’ll take care of that, but I need you to control your language. There are ladies here, including Mary, and they shouldn’t be subjected to this kind of language or behavior.” Reverend Green had now been backed all the way up to the podium and had nowhere else to go.

  Sarah couldn’t take her eyes away from the scene unfolding up front. Mary was clearly terrified, rooted to the spot and unable to escape.

  Sheriff Spooner was about eight feet away when Mr. Fitzgerald whipped his attention back around to Mary, who was now within arm’s reach. He began cursing at her and pulled his arm back as though to punch her. As he began to swing, though, Reverend Green dropped to a crouch, rolled his shoulder in toward Mr. Fitzgerald, and rushed straight into the yelling man’s midsection. Mr. Fitzgerald was not prepared for the attack and went flying backward, straight into Sheriff Spooner’s arms, who then dropped him onto the ground, twisting around until the inebriated man landed belly first. The sheriff then placed his knee onto Mr. Fitzgerald’s back.

  Wanting to run to Mary, Sarah jumped up, but Samuel put a hand on her arm and restrained her. “You have to stay here,” he said firmly.

  Sarah stood there, helpless, as she watched Mary take her pie and run over to her siblings. The four younger ones had already folded their blanket and gathered their few belongings. Mortification was painted across Mary’s face as clearly as anger colored the faces of her two brothers. The five of them hurriedly left the gathering. Reverend Green called the church choir up to sing again and rushed after the family. Before he could reach them, though, a young man Sarah did not recognize pulled a wagon in front of Mary and her siblings.

  Tears began to seep out of Sarah’s eyes as she watched the scene continue to unfold. Mary’s brothers looked ready to fight. The young man on the wagon was not wearing a blue bandana, and Sarah did not know if he had been at the church or simply driving by.

  Reverend Green finally caught up to the family. Sarah could see him speaking to Mary and to the young man from the wagon, who couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty years old.

  As she watched them continue to talk, she saw Mayor Smith approach the group as well. It appeared most of the people on the church lawn had returned their attention to the front of the crowd. The choir was belting out a song as loudly as they could, probably hoping to cover up the different commotions that were still carrying on. Riveted in place, though, Sarah couldn’t tear her eyes away from Mary.

  The Fitzgerald kids all climbed up into the wagon. The young man got in as well and pulled away before Mayor Smith reached them. Reverend Green the mayor stood together for a spell before both made the move to return to the church crowd.

  Sarah’s hand went to her throat as she imagined what that must have been like for Mary. Her heart went out to the girl, who had been two years behind her in school. Mary had never been overly outgoing, but she had always been nice to people. After her Ma had died when she was barely fourteen, Mary had stopped coming to school. Responsibility for cooking, cleaning, and mothering the entire family had fallen to her ever since then. She was about the only person to whom those two brothers of hers showed any respect.

  Chapter Ten

  “I had no idea,” Sarah said to no one in particular.

  “About what?” asked Samuel.

  Reverend Green chose that moment to stop the choir and announce the day’s festivities had concluded. The remaining contests and competitions would be completed next Sunday after church. He thanked everyone for coming out today and enjoying the food and fellowship. It was almost a relief to have the whole affair called to an end, as the crowd had definitely abandoned the festive mood.

  “About what?” Samuel repeated.

  “I had no idea how little I know my neighbors. I thought I knew the people in Larkspur, but in actual fact, I have no idea what is going on in their lives and hearts,” Sarah answered him. “Mrs. Jones is considering remarriage. It never occurred to me she might be lonely. Or Sally, for that matter. And I certainly never realized what an unkind man Mr. Fitzgerald was. I attended school with Mary and her brothers and sisters, and I never realized how bad life at home was for them. He was going to hit her, for pity’s sake.”

  Samuel gave her a measured look and then asked, “Why do you think you don’t know your neighbors better?”

  Sarah scanned his face, “My own life, my job, my family, my friends – that’s all I think I’ve ever cared about. Truth be told, I’ve never bothered to look beyond my own little world. I’ve been terribly selfish and, what’s more, didn’t even realize it.”

  Samuel’s expression was nothing but kindness as he considered Sarah and said softly, “It’s a good thing you’ve figured this out now. Can you imagine how many regrets you would have if you hadn’t worked this out until you were fifty years old? God’s power is mighty enough to help you see people the way He wants you to see them. I reckon when God looks at people, He doesn’t look skin deep. He looks soul deep. We could all stand to be more like that.”

  “I have so much to ask forgiveness for,” Sarah replied, sadness still in her voice.

  “Of course you do,” Samuel said easily. “We all do. You’re not the only one who gets it wrong. All of us fall short. You have a teachable heart, though. God is teaching you things about yourself, and you are listening to Him. Recognizing the things about yourself you want to change is great. It won’t do you any good, though, to be so down on yourself that you end up being no use to God. That’s nothing but a different kind of selfishness.”

  “How can that be selfishness?” asked Sarah.

  “If all you think about is how awful you are, then you’re still only thinking about yourself. Your focus is still wholly on you. You can’t fall into that trap. Trust me. It’s an ugly place to be.” Having said that, Samuel winked at Sarah and directed his attention to Mayor Smith, who was approaching.

  “Samuel,” the mayor said. “Go get the buggy ready. I’ll stay with everyone for now.”

  With a nod, Samuel headed off to the family’s buggy. Getting it ready would be no small task. Sarah could see it was hemmed in on every side by other wagons and conveyances.

  “Well,” Mayor Smith said, “today did not exactly go as planned.”

  Minnie linked her arms with Sarah and announced, “We are going to go visit Mary tomorrow when Sarah gets off work.”

  Sarah shot a look of relief at Minnie. That’s exactly what she’d wanted to do, but she was feelin
g too timid by far and probably would never have spoken up.

  Mayor Smith nodded sadly at the girls and said, “I think that’s a fine idea. Pack a basket with provisions but don’t overdo it. The family has their pride. Your mother will help you with that. We’ll see if Samuel can accompany you. I don’t want you going out there alone. And I don’t want you going out there at all if Mr. Fitzgerald has returned home. So we’ll want to make sure he’s still in jail before you make such a trip.”

  “Yes, sir,” Minnie said pertly.

  ****

  Monday morning came all too soon, and Sarah headed off to work escorted by Samuel. “You have a fine mind,” she told him as they walked.

  “What makes you say that?” he spoke curiously.

  “We’ve talked about a lot of different things in the time I’ve known you, but yesterday was the first time we’d ever talked of spiritual things. I am fascinated by the way you think about God and how you relate to Him. It’s different than anything I’ve seen before.”

  “Different isn’t always bad,” Samuel said conversationally.

  “No, not at all. I am finding that sometimes different is good. Getting stuck in a certain way of doing or thinking seems to be quite easy. It’s easy for me, anyway,” she added.

  “Sometimes we do things out of habit, and sometimes we do things out of commitment, right?” asked Samuel. Sarah nodded, and he continued, “When we do something solely out of habit, then we need to ask ourselves why we got into the habit in the first place. Do we pray at mealtime because it’s a habit we’re used to, or do we pray at mealtime because we love God and want to thank Him for all He’s given us?”

  Samuel paused to help Sarah down off of the boardwalk so they could walk the last little dirt stretch to the stage office.