She took a quick peek inside as it passed, and saw a young lady just like herself, seated serenely and fanning herself. Envy filled Amanda’s heart. She would have given anything, even her family, to be that girl. Why was it, she thought bitterly that some people were lucky enough to be born in wealthy families? The only thing such girls had to do was to wake up and pick out a dress from dozens of gowns.
Then they would just enjoy the day, and come evening, go for a party or whatever else that wealthy folk did. Amanda hated her circumstances. She brightened up when she remembered her mission. The rancher sounded like a wealthy man. Perhaps she would get lucky this time and live the life she was meant to live, Amanda thought.
As she walked, her thoughts were in Montana on the ranch that she would soon call her home. She would have servants to cater for her every whim, and like that lady in the carriage, she would travel with class. She would spend the long summer months hopping and visiting with other ladies of her class. Amanda didn’t mind children, after all, most men required an heir. She would have no objections as long as her husband employed an adequate number of servants to take care of the children.
They would be brought to her in her private sitting room, twice or once a day and for an hour or so, she and her children would chat and then she would dismiss them with a wave of the hand to go and play. It would then be time for her nap. Amanda sighed with longing. If she played her cards right, her life would be waiting for her.
She thought about Elsa and their mother. She couldn’t very well go with them to Montana, and more importantly, Amanda wanted a fresh start in life. She wanted no reminders of the life she had left behind. She would help out whenever she could, especially with taking Mama to a doctor. After she was well, Amanda knew that she and Elsa would fend for themselves. They were so self-reliant and needed no man to take care of them.
Amanda knew that she was different. She was the type of woman born to be taken care of and pampered and she would blossom. The thirty minute walk to town took a short time and soon she was walking past the store and to the post office which was at the edge of town. She strode in and took her place in the queue behind two older women.
She tapped her foot impatiently at the slowness of the bespectacled man behind the counter. She craned her neck to see what was taking so long. To her annoyance, the man serving and the one being served were chatting as if no one else was waiting. Amanda resisted the urge to say anything. The last time she had been at the general store, she had complained to the store owner about how long he was taking to finish with a customer.
He had made her wait for half an hour before he served her. She couldn’t wait to get out of this God forsaken small town. Finally, her turn came. Her face screwed up in anger she slid the letter to the man.
“Good day Miss.” He said.
Amanda ignored him and stared stonily ahead. Realizing that she wouldn’t answer his greetings, the man sighed and told her the cost of the stamps. She put the money on the counter and stuck the stamps on the letter. A few minutes later, she was done, and she left the post office feeling that she was closer to Montana than ever.
She knew she should hurry back home and see to their mother while Elsa tended to the thousand chores that always needed to be done. How Amanda longed to have a servant. She would sit in the drawing room, with large windows with a view of the garden and ask for tea. She would sip her tea delicately and just enjoy being alive.
Her existence for the last several years held no joy whatsoever for Amanda. She endured her days until something good came along. Deep inside her heart she had known that something big was about to happen. She thought of the letter she had just sent and felt a wave of joy and excitement. Amanda was not worried about Elsa.
Which man would choose Elsa over herself? It wasn’t that she was ugly, but that she was plain. There was nothing special about Elsa. It didn’t help that she had big bones, as large as their late father’s, which made her look fat. Besides she and her sister were truly different. Elsa was a worker, born to take care of other people.
She, Amanda, was born to be taken care of. She would fall into this role at the ranch in Montana naturally. Soon she came to the little path that veered off the road and led to their house. It was small and shabby, and Amanda couldn’t wait to leave.
“Where were you? Mama is not well this morning and you were nowhere to be found.” Elsa said.
“I had nipped out for a short bit, but I’m here now, aren’t I?” Amanda said.
“Wipe mama down with the cloth, her fever is spiking again.” Elsa said.
For a moment, Amanda felt sympathy for her sister. She looked ten years older than her age as a result of worrying and working so hard. She felt grateful to her for taking care of them all, but a small voice at the back of her mind told Amanda that they were each living up to the roles they had been born into.
She sat next to her mother’s bed and wrung the cloth, and proceeded to wipe her mother’s forehead. Sweat was dripping down her face, all the way to her neck. Just looking at her, made Amanda want to cry. If only she could get better, then their lives would improve greatly. Their mother, when she was well, had been hard working and they had lived a bearable life.
Now that she was sick, there was the added worry that she would get worse and they had no money to take her to a doctor. Knowing how such thoughts lowered her spirits, Amanda yanked her mind from her mother and deliberately thought pleasant things. Like Montana and the future that awaited her. She would send money to Elsa as soon as she could to take mother to a doctor. After that, Amanda knew that her duty would be done.
Perhaps later, when she had children, Elsa and their mother could visit the ranch.
Chapter Three
“I know which sister I would pick.” Mathew declared after reading the two letters.
Christopher looked at his friend and wondered how they had gotten along for all those years. When Christopher bought his ranch, he found Mathew, a neighboring rancher already there. Over the years his friend had helped him out and shown him the ropes. He had steered him to the best markets for his beef cattle and showed him how to ensure that the cows had pasture throughout the year.
“I need to think about this.” Christopher said.
They sat at the kitchen table of his house drinking lukewarm tea.
“You do need a wife, this is horrible tasting.” Mathew complained, eyeing the tea distastefully.
“What about yourself, the years are going man, don’t you want a wife?” Christopher said, looking at his friend across the table.
They were as different as two men could be. Women threw themselves all over Mathew. He had blond hair that fell to his eyes and a carefree attitude that attracted women. Not that there were many women in Montana, Christopher thought. Good, unattached ladies were impossible to get, hence his daring decision to advertise for a bride in New Hampshire.
“I don’t mind if one falls in my laps, like this one.” Mathew laughed, holding the photograph. “But I won’t go your way and advertise for a wife. Who knows what you could end up with?” Mathew said. “I like to make my choices in person.”
Christopher folded the two letters and returned them to their envelopes. He had a lot to think about.
“How is the stock coming up?” Christopher said, changing the topic.
In the next ten minutes or so, the two men discussed their cattle due for sale in the next couple of months and exchanged news of the beef market. Mathew stood up to leave shortly after. Christopher opened the back kitchen door to show him out. He liked the view from the back door. Small buildings were dotted all over. One was a huge barn, where the dairy cows spent the night, there was a chicken coop and nearest to the kitchen, a smoke house.
Beyond that, you could see the green land stretched out for miles, and divided into several pastures. On one, Christopher could make out his longhorns, grazing contentedly and two ranch hands on horseback.
“They look almost ready.” Mathew
said, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand.
“Yes, just a few more weeks to go and I’ll be happy.” Christopher said.
“We’ve had good years.” Mathew added.
Christopher nodded. The last few years had been very good for most ranches in Montana with the prices of beef rising each year. Last year, he had made a sizeable profit and he expected a larger one this year. He was looking to add to his stock of two thousand and increase it to almost double. The only thing missing was a wife.
Every evening after work, Christopher felt the loneliness of living as a bachelor. He longed for noises in the house and a warm fire when he got home. He hoped that his future wife would be willing to have a vegetable garden for the needs of the house. There was one, a rectangular patch that was now empty of any vegetables. Growing food was not for him.
He preferred to breed animals and then when they were ready take them to the market. It was predictable unlike planting. He thought of a farmer west of Montana whose wheat farm had become crippled by debt. Christopher could never grow wheat. When the profits came, they were huge but he couldn’t bear the uncertainty that came with wheat farming. One depended so much on things beyond his control.
“I better go, I’ll see you soon. Good luck with the bride.” Mathew called out and hopped onto his horse.
He galloped off, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. Christopher chuckled. That was just like Mathew. He never did things normally. It was always with flare. However, behind the fun loving man, was a businessman of steel. Christopher knew that without Mathew’s guidance over the years, he would not have made it. He had taught him all the intricacies of ensuring that his cattle reached the desired weight and did not fall prone to illnesses.
Christopher did not go back to the house. Instead, he went to the barn and took out his horse, a black huge energetic mare that could gallop untiring, at very fast speeds. Christopher tapped the horse’s side, and it took off, first a gentle trot, gradually adding its speed. The man and beast headed to the Northern pasture, where Christopher had been repairing fences in the morning. He tethered the horse and continued with his work.
It was tiresome work but it had to be done. A broken fence could lead to the loss of a cow or even several and each was worth a significant amount of money. Sometimes the problem was the cattle getting mixed up. Each season’s cattle were kept separately from the rest of the herd and if they got mixed up, separating them was a task that took weeks.
His mind went back to the letters. He thought of the two different people living in the same house who had written to him. The one who had sent a photograph was very beautiful. She had eyes that could melt anybody’s heart and a small, slim body. The other had sent no picture, but her personality shone through the page of her letter.
He felt sorry for them at losing a father and then having a sickly mother. His heart twisted with pain when he remembered his own circumstances seven years ago. He had left home in search of greener pastures, but he had done so with a heavy heart. His mother had been sick and bedridden, and the main reason why he had left.
His father had been a poor farmer, relying on handouts to feed his wife and three boys. At eighteen, Christopher could no longer sit helplessly watching his mother die. He had heard about the west, and how a hard working person had the chance to change their lives. He had scrimped and saved and finally bought a stage coach ticket.
It wasn’t enough to get him to the west, but it was enough to land him in a thriving railway town where he had gotten by and saved further by working odd jobs. A few months later, Christopher took off again, this time reaching Montana. Despite having no experience riding horses, he had gotten a job as an apprentice ranch hand, and within a few months could ride as well as the best of them.
He had saved and just as he was about to send money back home, he had gotten word that his mother had died. It had taken every ounce of willpower in him to keep going. In the quiet of the night he had often wondered what the purpose was, after all, his mother getting better had been his reason for working so hard. Over time, the grief had decreased and he had found a reason to keep going.
Thanks to his hard work, his father and brothers now lived a comfortable life back home. He had sent money consistently and they had added to the small farm and bought a good breed of dairy cows. Christopher was still working on convincing one of his brothers to come west but so far none was willing.
That evening, tired after a whole day mending fences, Christopher sat down to have his dinner-A huge chunk of bread and an unappetizing piece of cold beef. He longed for a hot meal but he himself lacked the time to prepare one. He came in tired in the evenings, and in the mornings he was eager to go off and start the day’s work.
He chewed mechanically, not tasting the food or giving it much thought. When he finished, he got a writing pad and pen and prepared to write his letters. For Christopher, there was no time to waste. The more they communicated, the more he would know who was better suited to his sort of life.
Christopher was used to taking well thought out risks, but this one was the biggest in that it would affect the rest of his life. There was no bigger catastrophe than choosing the wrong wife. A man could spend the rest of his days in regret. But there was no option if Christopher wanted a wife. He looked at the pen and willed the words to come which they did.
He finished one and then started on the other. He asked questions and described his life in Montana. Would they still be willing to come despite the harsh life of a ranch? It was good in the sense that one never lacked basic needs; however everybody on a ranch had to pull their weight.
Chapter Four
“I got it, I got a letter!” Amanda yelled, running into the kitchen and waving a letter about.
Elsa felt a crush of disappointment. Even she had known that her chances were slim, she had still harbored hope that the cowboy would choose her.
“What does he say?” Elsa said.
“Let me read it first.” Amanda said, and plopped down on the chair.
Elsa turned her attention back to washing their breakfast utensils. Her forehead was covered with creases of worry. Their mother was getting worse. She could feel it. In the last two days she had not had one moment where she was lucid. She spoke as though in a dream and did not seem to recognize her. Elsa was deeply scared. How would they cope without their mother?
When she finished the washing, she dried her hands on her dress and sat down next to Amanda. Her face had lost its earlier animation and she looked thoughtful.
“What does he say?” Elsa said unable to bear the waiting any longer.
“Christopher says we should get to know each other better and then goes on to describe the ranch. It’s big; he has two thousand heads of cattle and about to double that number. I wonder then why he has no servants.” Amanda said.
“Servants? Amanda we’ve never ever had servants, so why would you want a servant?” Elsa said.
“I mean to start at the ranch how I will continue. I have no intentions of spending the rest of my life on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor.” Amanda said.
Elsa was shocked into silence. Her sister never ceased to surprise her, but today she had shocked Elsa? Why would somebody who had never had servants long for them? She almost felt sorry for Christopher. He had been taken in by a photograph of a pretty girl. Amanda had confessed to her that she had slipped a photograph into the letter.
“I will not go to Montana before he employs the services of a housekeeper.” Amanda declared.
Elsa looked at Amanda in wonder; had her sister lost her marbles?
“Are you mad? Mama is sick, we can do with all the help that we need, yet your biggest worry is servants?”
“I will send you money to take mama to a doctor when I settle down.” Amanda said.
“Amanda. Mama may not make it? If you visited her often, you’d notice how much she has deteriorated. I’m afraid if she doesn’t see a doctor in the next few days, we’ll lose her.
” Elsa said, wiping off the tears from her cheeks.
Amanda hated talking about their mother, but not talking would not wish the illness away.
“I’m sure you exaggerate.” Amanda said breezily.
“Stop it!” Elsa shouted, surprising both of them. “Can’t you see beyond yourself for once? Mama is dying.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Amanda shouted back.
“What is it girls?” a weak voice said from the kitchen door.
“Mama what are you doing awake?” Elsa cried out and ran to their mother’s side.
Walking from her bedroom to the kitchen had exhausted her and she leaned weakly on the door frame. She tried to smile but instead it came out as a grimace. Elsa held her waist, and lifted her arm to go over her shoulder. Gently she turned her mother round and walked her gently back. She could feel her bones, and looking at her body in her night dress, Elsa wanted to sob.
She looked like a child, so small and with no meat on her. The good thing however was that she had spoken. That meant that she was getting better surely? She tucked her back in her bed and before Elsa took a step out of the room, she was fast asleep. The short walk had wiped out her little energy. She tip-toed to the door and stood watching her mother.
Then her thoughts returned to Christopher. She had not known his name before Amanda told her. Elsa knew that her motives for writing to him had not been completely genuine but she had told him, in not so many words. Sure, she liked the idea of marrying a cowboy, it was so romantic. However the main reason marriage had sounded so attractive was so that she could get help for their mother.
Elsa returned to the kitchen to find Amanda engrossed in replying the letter.
“You should mention that mum is sick. He might want to help.” Elsa said, feeling foolish as she said the words.
Why would a stranger be interested in knowing whether Amanda’s mother was sick or not, and even more, why would he want to help?
Romance: Luther's Property Page 11