Mail Order Mishap: Christian Romance (Kansas Brides Book 1)
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Authors: Barbara Goss
Mail Order Mishap
Barbara Goss
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All scripture is quoted from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without express written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2016 Barbara Goss
All Rights Reserved
Kindle Edition
Cover design by: Samantha Fury
Dedicated to all the authors and readers at Pioneer Hearts for giving me the idea to write a mail order bride book. Enjoy.
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Chapter 1
Amber Wakefield sat with her sister Margaret in the drawing room reading the
Richmond Dispatch
. Amber was reading the inside section, while Margaret scanned the front page.
“Looks like they caught the bandit who held up the bank yesterday, Amber. Heaven forbid! His name was Winfield Wakefield‒” Margaret let out a giggle—“I hope he isn’t a relation.”
“I hope not, as well,” Amber murmured, as her interest focused elsewhere.
“Margaret, listen to this anonymous letter written to the newspaper from
an unmarried woman of age nineteen, from Chesterfield County, Virginia, who writes,
I am one of the many women feeling despair brought on by the war. Has anyone considered the difference in the numbers of males and females? I do not want to become an old maid, yet what are my choices? I am only of moderate beauty and fortune, and my chances of marriage are next to nil. Has anyone a good resolution to this mounting problem?
“And,” Amber continued, “the newspaper editor answered the letter,
Go West young woman, go West. Out west they also have an imbalance, but it appears to be a reversal of the numbers. In California, alone, there are 63% more men than women. The percentage is higher in less populated areas like Wyoming, Oregon, and Kansas. My answer is: go West. Some cities out west are advertising for women because the need is so great.”
“And what’s wrong with being an old maid?” Margaret asked. “I, however, prefer the term spinster. I don’t mind it at all. I don’t want a husband bossing me around and giving me babies every two years! Aunt Sarah never married and she’s lived a very fulfilling life.”
Amber hugged herself. “Oh, how I want to be married and have babies. I’ve always wanted to be a mother. Remember how I always used to play with dolls?”
“Yes, while I was out riding horses and climbing trees. Do you even know the thrill of catching a fish?” Margaret grabbed the newspaper from Amber’s hands. “Don’t read any more or you’ll be moody all evening.”
“I’d be married by now if my Frank hadn’t gotten himself killed at Fredericksburg. I might even be a mother now, rocking a young’un in my arms at this very moment.”
“Amber, stop it this instant! Before you know it you'll be crying over his passing all over again. Can’t you just accept the life God has given you?”
Seeming not to hear the question, she pulled another newspaper out, one she'd hidden in her apron pocket. “There are ways to find a husband. There may not be many eligible men here, in the South, but out west, it’s a different story. You heard the article‒there's a shortage of women. We could go there and be surrounded by handsome cowboys, pining for a wife.”
Amber shoved a page from the newspaper under Margaret’s nose. “Look at all the ads for single women in the classified section?”
Margaret frowned as she skimmed the page. “Interesting, but they’re all through an agency. It’s probably a trick to get your money.”
“No, it says right here at the top, the advertiser paid for the ad, and the woman pays nothing.”
“Say, this isn’t the
Richmond Dispatch
, What paper is this?”
“
The Matrimonial News
, my friend, Mattie, found it in her sister’s bedroom.” Amber looked at Margaret pleadingly. “Let’s do it! Let’s go out west!”
Margaret scowled,
trying to confiscate the second newspaper as she had the first
. “That’s ridiculous! Heaven only knows what you’d get. Give me that paper!”
Amber held the paper just out of her sister’s reach. “No! I’m going to contact this agency.”
“As your older sister and the one in charge since Mama died, I say that you will not do something that crazy.”
“I’m past the age where I need a caretaker, Margaret. I’m twenty-two.”
“Well, count me out. I have no use for a husband, but if you leave, I’ll also have no use for this huge house all by myself.”
“Sell it, then.” Amber pouted.
“The city of Richmond is recovering after being ravaged by war, and I don’t think anyone is buying property, least of all old mansions in need of repairs. Think about it, Amber.”
“You could invite Aunt Sarah to live here with you. She’s alone, too. Cousin Agatha, as well. They could all move in and help with the expenses.”
“My!” Margaret exclaimed. “You have this all planned, don’t you? You’ve been thinking about this for some time, haven’t you?”
“Maybe I have. Aunt Esther has the dowry our parents left for us, and I can take mine with me. You can use yours to fix up the house since you don’t want to marry.”
“Amber, there are husbands out there that beat their wives, there are womanizers, drunks, rapists and God knows what else. I can’t let you do this!”
“I’m not going out there blindly. The article says I can contact the agency, and they’ll give my address to whoever wishes it. I can write to the men that respond until I know one of them well enough to make a move.”
“Good grief! Now you can size up a man by his handwriting?” Margaret stood and marched out of the room, mumbling to herself.
Amber smiled, as she walked to the desk, took out a clean sheet of paper to respond to the ad.
Shrugging off her sister’s negative remarks, Amber sealed the letter to the newspaper. Margaret had every right to be protective. She was, after all, her older sister. Their mother had died of a stroke just thirteen months ago, and their father had volunteered to fight for the Confederate army, despite his advanced age, and was killed.
Margaret and Amber had struggled to keep the old mansion‒situated in the heart of Richmond‒going after the war. Margaret was shrewd and a good manager, so they were able to keep the house going by paying the few slaves that had stayed on. They had aunts and cousins in Richmond who stopped by often, and who were willing to help them out when they needed it.
Amber put her pen down and rubbed the envelope against her cheek. This letter might be her only hope of escaping spinsterhood. Every day she lived with Margaret in their big house, the more she pictured herself growing old, with no one except Margaret for company. She feared that, one day, friends and neighbors would begin to refer to them as the Wakefield Spinsters.
Weeks later, Amber received several replies from men out west. Some she discarded immediately, and others she put into her “maybe” pile. Most of these were cowboys, miners, or storekeepers. She'd always lived a materialistic life, so those letters were the first to be discarded. Her “maybe” pile was considerably smaller than her discard pile. Finally, when it was evident that no more letters were coming in, she sat down, reread all the letters in her “maybe” pile, and continued to discard until she had only a handful of hopefuls left.
The first man under consideration was widower named Sylvester, who owned a prosperous ranch in Wyoming. His occupation had landed him a spot in her “maybe” pile. Amber wasn’t too keen on being a rancher’s wife and having to do housework. She’d never lifted a finger as her family had always had servants. She also considered how cold and snowy it got in Wyoming. Despite this, she took her paper and pen out and wrote back to him.
The second possibility, Henry, had been widowed twice. This struck Amber as odd for a man of his age. He claimed to own a lumberyard in Iowa. His letter was stained with what looked like coffee. Even so, she thought she’d give him a chance and return his letter, as well.
Charles was another strong candidate, since he lived in Kansas, and owned a hotel. He’d never been married, and he had one brother. He seemed extremely educated‒there wasn't a single misspelled word and perfect grammar to match, which was what had put him on the top of the pile.
The rest of the “maybes” read pretty much the same as the first three, so she answered them all in turn; six in total.
When the answering letters came, she grew increasingly disappointed. Sylvester had six children and though she did want to be a mother, she would have preferred to give birth to them herself. Sylvester went into the discard pile.
Henry’s letter seemed earnest, but his spelling was as terrible as his grammar. He stated his age as forty-two, which she felt was a bit old.
All the others proved disappointing for one reason or another, as well. Now, she had only to wait for the straggler’s letter; Charles, the hotel owner.
Two days later, a letter from Charles Turner arrived. His well-written letter struck her as sincere.
A hotel owner!
She sat down and began her reply back to him.
She hesitated to include that she had a dowry in the letter, even though the intention of a dowry was to attract a husband, wasn't it?
