With his hands shaking from nervousness, though he figured he’d blame the chilly, fall weather, Zach unfolded the letter in the white envelope and read it:
Dear Mr. Sawyer,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am responding to your advertisement for a mail-order bride in the Marriage Times.
I am an extremely handsome woman of twenty-two years of age with long, ebony hair, brown eyes, and a shapely build. My extraordinary personality has been considered one of the finest by those who know me best. As I have been told many times, I am surely without fault. My education is far superior to that of most other women in the region, and I come from one of the finest, wealthiest families in the Baltimore area.
I desire to marry a well-to-do husband in the West with whom I can maintain the lifestyle to which I have grown accustomed. (The West holds a great deal of intrigue for me, as one of my ancestors was a French fur trader who traveled throughout your area.)
I have mailed a copy of this letter to each of the potentially suitable men in the Marriage Times advertisement listings. Consider yourself privileged to be among them. When the responses return to me, I will take my time to determine which advertisements are worthy of continued correspondence.
It would be in your best interests to respond as quickly as possible, as I imagine the competition for my hand in marriage will be fierce. Only those men with significant wealth, high social standing, excellent dispositions, and above-average appearances will be considered as candidates for matrimony.
Yours truly,
Dovie Patrick
126 12th Avenue
Baltimore, Maryland
Zach sat motionless for a moment, staring at the letter he had just read. Did this Dovie Patrick honestly believe men would respond to someone who had sent out the same letter, with the exception of the salutation, to multiple men? It appeared she was in search of the best offer and would reject anyone who did not meet her strict criteria. I waited two months for a response like this? Zach thought. Hesitant to bother reading the second letter, he sat in silence pondering if wealth and prominence were the only items on the mind of every woman who answered an advertisement.
“I knew this was a crazy idea,” he said with a sigh. He recalled the day Lucille had talked him into the plan just two months ago….
***
“You know, Zach, I’ve been thinking,” Lucille said as she filled his order. “There aren’t many eligible women in Pine Haven, and you’re not getting any younger. Have you ever thought of finding a wife?”
Zach laughed. “You know, Lucille, come to think of it, I have given that some thought in recent days. But, as you say, the pickings are slim in our town.” He paused. “Plus, you were already taken,” he teased.
Lucille blushed. “Now, Zach Sawyer, if I was thirty instead of fifty, I might consider you. But as it is, I am a happily married woman and far too old for you,” she teased him back. She cleared her throat. “Let’s get serious. We shouldn’t let the fact that there aren’t many women in Pine Haven stop you from finding a wife. Have you ever thought of looking elsewhere for a bride?”
Zach eyed the woman with suspicion. “What do you mean, Lucille?”
Lucille looked around the mercantile, as if to be sure no one would hear the words she was about to speak. When she was confident it would be a private conversation, she continued. “Remember when my sister, Laverne, came to visit from Kansas City a few months back?”
“Yes.” Zach recalled the day well. It was the day that he discovered Lucille had a twin sister who was the same as Lucille in every way, except that Lucille was married to Fred, and Laverne was married to a man named Theo. It was almost eerie when the two of them were together, with the same appearance, the same laugh, and the same, mischievous personality.
Lucille leaned in closer and whispered, “One night, I was unable to sleep, so I came downstairs and saw that Laverne had left the newspaper she’d brought from Kansas City on the counter. I decided to sit a spell and read it. After all, it had been so long since I’d read a real newspaper. On the very last page was a section that advertised for mail-order brides.”
Suddenly, as if he’d been awakened from a deep sleep, Zach knew what Lucille’s suggestion would be, and he prepared his defense. “Now, Lucille—”
“Now, you wait just a second here, Zach. I know what you’re going to say.” Zach found Lucille’s short finger inches from his nose. “I am not finished. As I was saying, I saw on the last page a section that advertised for mail-order brides. I read through the list and thought, Now, that would be interesting. I wondered for a minute how it would have been if I had been a mail-order bride and Fred had advertised and we’d met that way. It would have been so romantic. I can see it now…I would step from the stagecoach, and our eyes would meet. Nothing around us would matter, only the blossoming of new love.” Lucille held her hand to her heart and closed her eyes, as if to live the tale she had fabricated in her mind. After a short time, she opened her eyes, rolled them in exaggeration, and continued, “As it is, we met at a church potluck, so it was nothing exciting. Besides, it took me some time to fall in love with him. But this? This is exciting. I read through each advertisement and thought, Now, I know there is someone who could find a bride this way. Please forgive me, but I thought of Mr. Victor first, seeing as how he’s getting up in years and has never been married, the poor man. But then, just the other day, I thought of you.”
“Lucille, I know you have the best of intentions, but that’s not how I want to meet my future wife. It seems so impersonal.”
“Now, Zach. It is nothing of the sort. You correspond back and forth, and when you are convinced that she is the one, you send for her. When she arrives, if you are adamantly opposed—if she has lied in her correspondence, for instance—then you are under no obligation to marry her. But if you do choose to make her your wife, think of how nice it will be for Davey to have a mother again. That poor little boy….” Lucille shook her head ruefully. “No little boy should ever be without a ma,” she continued, reaching for her handkerchief and dabbing at the corner of her left eye.
Zach sighed and suddenly felt sorry for Fred. He wondered if the man had ever won a debate with his wife. Considering the present situation, it was unlikely he had. “Lucille, God will provide me with a wife if it is His will, when His timing is right. Until then, I’ll just have to be patient.”
“Oh, I agree God will provide you with a wife, all right, but what if it’s the good Lord’s will that you find one by advertising in a newspaper? After all, are you just going to sit there waiting for one to show up all on her own in Pine Haven, of all places? This isn’t exactly the New York City of the West.”
Zach had to agree with Lucille that Pine Haven had little to draw women there of their own accord. “I don’t think so, Lucille, but thank you for thinking of me.”
Just then, a customer entered the mercantile. “Lucille, I have a list of supplies I’ll be needin’.”
Lucille looked up at the customer. “It’ll be about five minutes, Mr. Johnson. I have a critical conversation with Mr. Sawyer to finish. So, take your time and look around, if you wish. Otherwise, you may want to come back later.”
Mr. Johnson nodded. “I’ll walk over to the post office and see if there’s any mail while I’m waitin.’”
“Fine idea. You run along, then.” Lucille again leaned forward toward Zach. “As I was saying, this is an excellent idea, and one I don’t think you can afford to pass up. Do you want to be a bachelor all of your life? That sounds like a lonely existence to me. Besides, you have more than just yourself to think about—you have Davey to consider. Please, Zach, don’t let this opportunity pass you by. I know it’s the true desire of your heart that you find a woman to love.”
“Lucille, I wouldn’t even know what to write.”
“I would be happy to help you with that, but we can talk more about it later. There then,” Lucille patted his hand. “It’s all settled. I’ll find some names of some newspapers in the East, and we’ll get started on this plan.”
***
The sound of his horse whinnying brought Zach back to the present. After reading the letter from Dovie, he realized again that he never should have allowed Lucille to talk him into her silly plan. “I might as well open the other letter,” he said. He read the outside of the lilac envelope. “Boston, huh?” Taking the letter out of the envelope, he noticed it was scented, and he held it to his nose. It was the scent of spring, and it made him wish it was April instead of October. Opening the letter, he saw the impeccable handwriting, which read:
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
The letter was brief in comparison with the other letter, and Zach felt grateful for the difference—not only in length, but also in content. He stared at McKenzie’s letter and felt his breath catch in his throat. He didn’t know McKenzie L. Worthington, but something within him told him he soon would. If this is the woman You have planned for me to marry, Lord, please make it clear to me, he prayed silently.
Did you hear the news?” Lucille whispered to Wilma Waterston, the wife of the town blacksmith, Wayne.
“What news is that?” Wilma asked, turning her right ear to Lucille. She lived for the moments when her closest friend had new information to share with her. With little happening in the remote, Western town, news was precious.
“Zach received not one, not two, but seven responses so far to his advertisement for a mail-order bride!” Lucille’s excitement precluded her from speaking as quietly as she had hoped.
“Surely you jest!” Wilma gasped. “Seven responses already? Hasn’t it been only three months since he placed the ad? I bet Mr. Victor will be kept quite busy at the post office once Zach receives even more responses. Why, I’d wager that Pine Haven has never seen as much mail as it’s about to see.”
“I agree. What’s more, I asked him just the other day—” Lucille began, but she was interrupted.
“Now, what is it that y’all are talking about?” Eliza Renkley asked. “Here we all are, sittin’ in a quiltin’ circle, and Lucille, the bearer of all news, good and bad, is whisperin’ to Wilma. Do share with the rest of us, Lucille,” Eliza begged in her Tennessee accent.
“Yes, Lucille, what news have you to share with us today?” Marie Kinion asked.
“Well, you see, I was just telling Wilma about the latest on Zach’s mail-order bride situation,” Lucille said. She began her news conference the same way each time at the quilting circle. She’d share the information only with Wilma, but when the rest of the women begged her, she’d then tell them, as well. Lucille loved the attention. Although she knew gossip was wrong, she consoled herself with the fact that she never told news that would scathe or slander another person. Her news was usually good news; in the case of bad news, she shared it only if it might protect or even save another person’s life. Such had been the case when she’d heard rumors of a planned bank robbery in Pine Haven. She’d told Marie’s husband, Sheriff Clyde, all the details, and he’d been able to foil the robbery attempt. Lucille had been a heroine for a month. The recognition had done wonders for business at the mercantile.
“Yes?” Marie asked. “Do go on.” She put down her needle and sat up straight in her chair, ready to receive the information Lucille was about to give.
“Zach received seven responses already to his advertisement. Can you believe that?” Lucille asked.
“I can believe it,” said Wilma. “I always wished my daughter would have married him instead of the man she chose.” Several women nodded in agreement, knowing that Wilma’s daughter hadn’t made the best of choices in selecting a spouse.
“Anyway, I asked him the other day which ones he was going to respond to. He mentioned that he’s been praying real hard, and he’s chosen but one,” Lucille said.
“Really?” asked Eliza. “I imagine it must have been hard for him to choose which one. Did he say anything about what was in the letters?”
Lucille shook her head. “As hard as I tried to pry it from him, I couldn’t get him to utter one tidbit of information to save my life. He was very private about it and said that there were three letters that he’d ruled out completely without even having to think about it. He said that he’d be in soon to purchase some stationery to write a response to the one he’d chosen.”
“Can you imagine being a mail-order bride?” Marie asked.
“I think it sounds romantic,” said Lucille. “I wish I’d met my Fred that way.”
“Oh, I agree. I met my Billy Lee through my brother, because they always went possum huntin’ together. I think meetin’ someone as a mail-order bride would be much more excitin,’” said Eliza.
“I can’t wait to see the woman who accepts his offer. Do you think someone from the East could even begin to fit here in Pine Haven?” Wilma asked.
“I was from the East, and I did fine,” said Myrtle, Reverend Eugene’s wife, speaking up for the first time that afternoon. It was known that she didn’t appreciate gossip and prayed that, although Lucille thought her information was innocent, she’d learn the truth one day. For now, Myrtle did her best to set a good example and attempted to avoid the temptation of gossip herself.
“You’re right, Myrtle, you fit right in,” agreed Marie. “Maybe Zach’s new wife will be someone like Myrtle. That would be nice. It’s too bad you don’t have a sister, Myrt.”
“Yes, it would be nice, indeed, to have another Myrtle,” said Wilma, who shared in Marie’s high opinion of Myrtle, as did all of the townsfolk.