A marriage of convenience sounded okay, so long as he was not an abusive drunkard. The part she liked best was his need being urgent. It could hardly be as urgent as mine, she thought, wondering what had necessitated such a desperate move on his part.
“Well?” Nellie asked.
“Yes, the one you marked on page three sounds reasonable. I’ll write to him later, and thank you for being so kind.”
After supper that evening, Briony wrote to the man.
Dear Isolated Rancher,
I read your advertisement in the Matrimonial Gazette. I understand that you could not be too forthcoming in it. I think from the small amount of information you did provide, I could be suitable for your needs. I would need to know a little more about your situation before I committed myself to any arrangement.
I am aged twenty-nine and have never been married. I am a good cook and housekeeper. I am also experienced with animals, having spent much of my life on a ranch. I do have some nursing experience, as I assisted in caring for wounded during the war.
For reasons I am not prepared to divulge at this time, I cannot remain here in Hurstbridge for much longer. Opportunities for single women around this town are limited; therefore, I need to look further afield.
I am five feet three inches in height, have reddish brown hair and green eyes. I believe my looks are passable as I have never been told otherwise.
If you think I sound like what you are looking for, I would be glad to furnish character references and more information. I would expect you to do likewise.
Anything you tell me will be held in the strictest confidence. If you decide I do not fit your requirements, please let me know.
Yours in expectation,
Briony Ashton.
She was hesitant to give out too much information until she knew more about this man and his intentions. He sounded sincere, but she did not trust easily.
Wyoming was too far away for her to take unnecessary risks. She would be lucky to have enough money saved to pay for her fare to somewhere else, if she did have to get away from him for some reason. It was imperative to act with caution. If she made a mistake it could cost her dearly.
***
“I’ve got three letters for you, Marty,” Phyllis said as he helped her down from the buckboard in the front yard.
“Only three? I thought I would have received more.” Disappointment surged through him. He had known advertising in the paper was a foolhardy idea from the start, and couldn’t believe he had fallen for it.
“It doesn’t matter how many you get or don’t get, as long as there is one that proves suitable.”
“Yeah, well, I won’t be holding my breath. I’ll look after the horse while you start on supper. I’ve stoked the fire up and replenished the wood box.”
He would be happy living here alone, if it were not for the cooking and household chores. He craved peace and quiet. Phyllis was like clockwork on school days. Always arriving home right at 4 o’clock. Fortunately for her, the school was only a couple of miles down the road.
It was selfish expecting her to stay here tending his needs when Jarrod was anxiously waiting to make her his wife. If he got tired of waiting and found himself another woman, it would break his sister’s heart and he would feel even more like a low-down skunk than what he already did. He could not let it happen.
Hopefully, one of these women would be okay. There was no need to be too fussy, so long as she was respectable, was a good cook and housekeeper. If truth be known, he wanted nothing more. A woman he had to worry about, or pander to, would be useless to him. He had nothing of himself left to give, as the battlefields and subsequent imprisonment in Andersonville had seen to that.
Had the war not ended when it did, neither he nor any of his comrades would have survived. A couple of months longer and they would have all been dead, their bodies slung into pits and left to rot in that hell on earth.
Why did he keep torturing himself all the time? He continuously asked himself. They had been raised in Colorado and he never would have contemplated moving to Wyoming. It was Jarrod, his army friend’s idea, not to mention the chance to buy this ranch, that had him agreeing to come here with Phyllis.
The ranch had originally been Jarrod’s. An estranged relation had left it to him, but he had no interest in it. His heart was in school teaching, and this interest, which he shared with Phyllis, had led to them falling in love and wanting to get married. Ironic, that his sister now had a chance to return to Colorado after she married Jarrod.
He led the horse around to the barn, unhitched him from the buckboard and attended his needs; all the while, hoping one of these women would prove suitable. He could not begrudge his sister and his best friend, well, his only friend really, if he were brutally honest, their chance of happiness.
Just because he had failed to move on from his war experiences, like Jarrod, was no need for their lives to be ruined. Jarrod had never been a prisoner of war in Andersonville. That place was a nightmare that few men who had been there would ever forget. He no longer believed in love, had lost his faith in God and his fellow man.
You are a miserable excuse for a human-being Martin Kavanagh. He milked the cow, stubborn old varmint that she was, stingy with her milk, too.
Back at the ranch house, Phyllis was re-heating the stew from yesterday, and that combined with the aroma of freshly baked biscuits made his mouth water. He placed the bucket of milk on the bench on the porch while he washed his hands.
He was eager to read his letters to see if someone suitable had replied. It would have to wait until after supper. He lit the lamp in the kitchen as dusk was already starting to fall. It cast shadows around the walls, the glow comforting to a man who hated the dark.
“Supper won’t be long,” Phyllis said. “Do you want to read your letters first?”
“No.” He grinned. “They could be so bad they might turn me off eating.”
“Marty, you are incorrigible, do you know that?” She laughed.
“Yeah, so you keep telling me.”
“Come on, we might as well eat as everything is ready. Then we can relax and enjoy the evening’s entertainment – your letters.”
“There probably won’t be much enjoyment in them,” he said gloomily. “I’m not feeling very hopeful at all.”
“Have a little faith, will you?”
“Faith is something I lost years ago.”
Chapter Three
After supper, Martin helped Phyllis with the dishes, only fair as she did the cooking, even after spending the day at work. Looking after ten unruly kids on her own, in the little one room schoolhouse would not be easy, particularly with the two Quinn boys. Any wonder they were so disruptive and downright vicious with a father and two older brothers who were no-good varmints. Their ranching practices bordered on the illegal, but somehow, they always seemed to be one step ahead of the law. He had told his sister she should ban the kids from school to be fair to the kids who did behave themselves.
In the sitting room he sat in one armchair, Phyllis in the one opposite. She handed him the letters before picking up her knitting.
There was a marked tremor to his hand as he read the first letter. “This woman is fifty years old and has all her own teeth.” He gave it to Phyllis and she quickly read it.
“That’s ridiculous, she certainly won’t do.”
“What is wrong with this woman, can’t she read?” He slapped his forehead with an open hand.
“What about the next one, open it,” she urged.
The second letter was from a widow in Baltimore who had three children and was prepared to put them in an orphanage if he didn’t want them to accompany her. He was tempted to screw the letter up and throw it in the fire. Instead, he handed it to Phyllis, who gasped in shock.
“This is dreadful. The woman should be reported to the authorities. How cold and callous she sounds. It’s criminal, the poor little mites.”
“If you ask me, the kids woul
d be better off in an orphanage than living with a mother like that.”
“Your last letter, open that.”
“What’s the use? It will probably be from some crazed shrew. You were right, I should never have been so honest in my advertisement,” he said gloomily.
“Come on. It might be from your dream woman.”
“The only dream I would have about these women, would be in the form of a nightmare.”
Phyllis laughed. “Third time lucky.”
“Care to bet on it?”
“No.”
With a feeling of dread, he opened the letter. “The writing is neat,” he said. “And she comes from Colorado. Not too far away, so if I decided to send her back, I wouldn’t feel guilty about it.”
“Well, read it. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”
“It’s from a Miss Briony Ashton, aged twenty-nine.”
“Sounds promising.” Phyllis picked up her knitting again.
“I’ll take her,” he said.
“Just like that?”
“Yeah, she says she can cook and housekeep and has lived on a ranch. Sounds perfect. Here, see what you think.”
Phyllis read the letter, pursing her lips a couple of times. “She seems okay, but I wonder why she can’t get a husband in the usual way. Her having worked as a nurse in the war is good.”
“At least she can write,” he said, wondering why his sister was having second thoughts, while he was keen to pursue the matter further. “She has green eyes and auburn hair.”
“More likely, carrot red hair. You need to find out what she’s hiding, Marty.”
“What do you mean? She doesn’t seem to be hiding anything as far as I can tell.”
“She mentions not being prepared to divulge her reasons for wanting to become a mail-order bride. That makes me suspicious.”
“She probably doesn’t want to humiliate herself by saying she’s been left on the shelf because she’s so ugly,” he said.
“No. There were undertones of something in the letter, sadness maybe, desperation, even. Her position is urgent.” Phyllis gnawed her lip.
“She sounds okay to me, so I’ll write to her.”
“If you’ve made up your mind, don’t give out too much information. Make sure she knows you’re not rich, in case she is a gold digger trying to get her claws into a wealthy man.”
Martin walked into the kitchen and retrieved his writing materials. Sitting at the table, he tapped the top of the pen against his teeth, debating about what to write. He would put the bank manager down as a reference. Phyllis attended church, he rarely did, so he would not have the cheek to ask the preacher for a reference. Well, the preacher could confirm he came from a decent family. It was a bit of a stretch, but Phyllis was family, all he had left now. Jarrod would give him a reference. Surely, a school headmaster would be deemed appropriate.
Dear Miss Ashton,
Thank you for your letter. You do sound the type of woman I am looking for. I am prepared to correspond with you. Like I said in my advertisement, my need is urgent. I may as well be frank with you. My sister has been keeping house for me, but she is betrothed and is anxious to marry. Housekeeping for me is the only thing holding her back, as it would mean her moving away from here.
If you wanted to come to me straight away, I would not object.
I will be honest. I am not a rich man, but own a reasonable size ranch with a comfortable home on it. We are only about five miles from town, but are isolated, no neighbors close by. I do not socialize much.
I am five feet eleven inches in height and have dark hair and grey eyes.
Mr. McGuire, the bank manager in Fir Ridge, would vouch for my honesty and integrity.
Likewise, Mr. Jarrod Mason, headmaster at the Baptist school in Denver.
I am not a regular church goer anymore, but my sister is, so Preacher Thomas would be able to confirm that I come from a decent, upright family.
I note that you say you have had nursing experience during the war. I am physically fit, but have trouble with my nerves sometimes. I was a prisoner of war in Andersonville and there would be few survivors of that place who carry no scars. I don’t mean I am violent, but I do get into black moods sometimes and need to be alone.
If you find this a problem, I completely understand, but please let me know. I am anxious to get a woman here quickly so my sister can marry. Because of propriety I could consider nothing less than marriage. I emphasize it will be a marriage in name only.
I look forward to hearing back from you.
Sincerely,
Martin Kavanagh.
***
Ten days later
Nellie handed Briony a letter from a Martin Kavanagh of Fir Ridge, Wyoming.
Briony knew it was cowardly, not leaving the house except to go to the livery stable. Even then, if Dusty was not around, some of the suggestive remarks made her cringe.
There were a few people whose attitude had remained unchanged, yet she got the feeling they were wary of her.
The Ashton family had wielded a lot of power in the town in her father’s time, as he had loaned several businesses money to keep them afloat during hard times.
Now that Lucille had taken charge of all the assets, these people feared she would demand payment in full of the debts they owed. They had every right to be fearful. If anyone of them displeased her, she would have no hesitation in making them pay what they owed. It was almost comforting to know some people were forced into being harsh toward her, rather than it being personal.
“Are you going to open it up?” Nellie asked as she stood near the table, hands planted on her hips.
“Yes.” Briony felt tempted to dash into her room and read it in private, only she could not. Nellie had started all of this, so it was only fair for her to know what was going on.
As she read the letter, hope rose in her breast. This Martin Kavanagh sounded honest and decent. Without commenting, she passed the letter to Nellie. “Read it and tell me what you think. I’ll hear your opinion before I let you know what I think.”
Nellie pursed her lips and nodded her head a couple of times.
“Do you think he might be suitable for me?”
“He sounds honest.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought.”
“If he was in Andersonville, means he fought for the Union.”
“I know. Pa was in the Union army, too, but a lot of men from Colorado fought for the Confederacy. I wouldn’t hold that against them. Not now. There’s been too much sadness and bitterness.”
“I think he sounds suitable, except….”
“What, Nellie?”
“The bit about black moods.”
“Yes, it does worry me, but after being a prisoner of war in that terrible place, I suppose it is reasonable, and he was honest enough to admit it. I like that the bank manager and school headmaster can vouch for his integrity.”
“Being prepared to marry you straight away smacks of desperation,” Nellie said. “I certainly would write to him again if I were you. It has to be your decision, but with things the way they are, well….”
“Well, what?”
“I think they are going to get even worse.”
“What have you heard?” Briony wrung her hands.
“It’s only rumor mind you, but I think it will spread like wildfire.”
“What will?”
“It’s unsavory.”
“Tell me, Nellie. Has Lucille been spreading more lies?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t understand how she can do that. Living in the big house in Denver, I mean she rarely sets foot in Hurstbridge now.”
“She doesn’t have to, not when she still socializes with the bank manager and his wife, and you know what a gossip Mona is. Probably cultivates their friendship on purpose.”
“Why does Lucille hate me so much? I’ve never done anything to her.”
“You took your father’s affection away from her an
d Hannah.”
“I did not.”
“She thinks you did, and jealousy is such a dreadful emotion it can quickly turn into hatred.”
“What is she saying about me?” Briony waited fearfully. It had to be something bad.
“Mona is now saying she heard it on good authority that you have been having an affair with a married man.”
“What!” Briony felt ill. Nausea rose to her throat. She had to swallow down on its bitterness before it spilled out of her mouth and onto the kitchen floor.
“It’s not true.”
“I know, but others are prepared to believe it and will treat you accordingly. They’ll be thinking you are like the mother who birthed you.”
Briony slumped on a chair and Nellie stepped away to get her a cup of water. “What will I do? I’m a social pariah now. Once this kind of lie is spread around, it will be a hundred times worse. They will probably tar and feather me and run me out of town.”
She trembled so much she could barely hold the glass Nellie had placed in her hand. Gulping the water down gave her a few seconds to think, and something more terrible jumped into her mind. This kind of evil gossip could ruin Nellie and Dusty’s chance of selling the livery stable. Maybe they would get run out of town for aiding and abetting a woman of ill-repute, as she would be known. She could never let it happen.
“I’ll leave here before my tainted reputation causes problems for you and Dusty.”
“We won’t force you to go, my dear.” The words were slightly hesitant and the older woman’s eyes darkened with fear. The livery stable was the only asset of any value they possessed. If they failed to sell it, and Dusty became incapable of continuing to work there, they would be virtually destitute if they left town; ostracized if they remained.
These kindly people would not ask her to leave, but she could stay no longer and risk ruining their lives, as well. “I’ll leave here tomorrow morning, Nellie. I can’t let you and Dusty suffer because of what people think about me.”
“Where would you go?”
“Martin Kavanagh wants a wife urgently. He more or less said to come straight away. I’ll go there.” She could easily write to him and say she agreed to marry him and would be coming to Fir Ridge straight away.
An Unwanted Bride for Christmas Page 2