“I think he could be if you wanted.” Toria shook her head. “I’m sorry for saying that, Elizabeth. It’s not my place to meddle in your life. I’m here because I’m hoping that you can find me a husband out west. I’m afraid that Sebastian is going to do something stupid if you don’t, and I’m more than a little certain that I lost my job today when Bernard defended me.”
Elizabeth sighed. “You’re probably right. I think I have a man for you, and oddly enough, he sent enough money for your travel expenses with his letter. Most don’t do that, but he told me he trusts me completely and would love a bride to come to him. He’s not requiring a response, which isn’t the normal way I do things, but if you’d like to read his letter, you could be on tomorrow’s train headed toward Colorado.”
“Colorado?” Toria thought for a moment about what she’d heard about the new state. “I think I’d enjoy living there. The photographs I’ve seen are beautiful.”
“It’s a beautiful place, from what I’ve heard. Of course, I’ve rarely left Beckham, and have never left Massachusetts, so what can I say about it?” Elizabeth walked over to her desk and found the letter. “Please read over it and let me know if you’re interested in marrying Mr. Jackson.”
Toria accepted the letter, a little afraid of what she’d find. Of course, almost anything was better than staying there and being continually bothered by Mr. Penuckle.
Dear Potential Bride,
I hope you’ll read this letter carefully and determine that I’m the man you wish to spend the rest of your life with. My name is Mortimer Jackson, and I’m a widower. I live in the town of Creede, Colorado. I lost my wife Grace some time ago, and I find my life just isn’t complete without a woman at my side.
I own and run a mercantile, along with my son John, who is nineteen. I’m forty-three years old. I like to take long walks, and I adore fresh-baked bread. If you enjoy cooking and would be willing to help out in the store on occasion, you are definitely the bride for me. I would rather have a woman who is a little older than most brides. I’d say a minimum age of thirty would please me. I don’t mind if you have children with you, because I’ve always adored children, though my wife and I only had one. If you are interested, please send me a telegraph and come to me. I don’t stand on ceremony, and I’d love it if you just arrived in town.
Yours,
Mortimer
Toria blinked twice and read the letter twice more. “He sounds like a good man. Has Bernard investigated him yet?”
Elizabeth nodded. “He just returned from a trip looking into him and a couple of other men. He seems like a good, upstanding citizen. People say that he loved his wife to distraction.”
Toria looked at the letter and then at her niece. “Could I leave on tomorrow’s train?”
Elizabeth grinned. “You certainly could. I’ll have Bernard escort both of us to your boarding house and we’ll pack up your things. I can ship anything that you can’t take on the train with you.”
“I’d like that a lot. When can we go?”
“Let’s have the cookies and tea Bernard is fetching for us, and then we’ll go over to your place to pack. While we’re packing, I’ll have Bernard send a telegram to Colorado and buy a train ticket. He said there’s a station that goes right into the town, so you won’t even have to worry about taking part of the trip by stagecoach.”
Toria reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand in hers. “Thank you so much for helping me. I should be helping you, not the other way around.”
“You have always been my favorite aunt. I’m so pleased I can be instrumental in you finding your place in this world.”
Mortimer looked up as Beatrice and Arthur Jameson walked into his store early Monday morning. “I’ve brought your daily baked goods,” Beatrice announced with a smile. She was holding their baby, while Arthur carried the food.
“Looks like you brought me a baby, not baked goods,” Mortimer said with a laugh. He genuinely liked Beatrice, thrilled that she’d come along and married his friend.
“I brought you cookies, bread, and pies,” Arthur said with a smile. “And a telegram from Massachusetts.”
Mortimer’s eyes widened. “Already? I’d thought it would take years for the matchmaker to find someone who would be happy with an old goat like me.”
Arthur carefully arranged the baked goods before digging the telegram out of his pocket and handing it to his friend. “It might be time for you to clean your house really well to get ready for a bride,” he said with a wink.
Mortimer smiled. “Beatrice, would you know of anyone who would be willing to clean my home and make it wife-ready for a good wage? I’d pay a whole dollar to have it spick and span when my new bride arrives.”
Beatrice thought for a moment. “Hmm…I’m sure I could find someone. When do you need her by?”
Mortimer frowned. “I guess I should quit putting my cart before the horse! I’ll read the telegram so I can answer that.” His laugh filled the mercantile. He had no problem laughing at himself, and was pleased to have a reason to laugh at all. He unfolded the paper and read the short message. “SENDING YOU BRIDE STOP NAME IS VICTORIA STOP ARRIVING NOVEMBER 11th. STOP.”
“She’ll be here next week!” Mortimer wanted to dance around the room. It had been so long since he’d had the help of a sweet wife. He couldn’t wait until she arrived. “Her name is Victoria. I wonder if she’ll mind if I call her Vicki.”
Beatrice and Arthur exchanged glances. “I’ll have someone here to clean on Monday. Will that work?” Beatrice asked. The eleventh was Wednesday, and it might take more than a day.
Mortimer’s nodded eagerly. “I’d like all my laundry to be done and the house to be spotless.”
Beatrice frowned. “Would you be willing to pay for a couple of days? Or do you think it can all be done in one?” She thought her friend, Hannah, who had been one of the abducted women, would be pleased to get a little extra money. Her stethoscope had been stolen during the kidnapping.
He shrugged. “Two days is fine. They can work a whole week if they need to! I’m not a rich man, but I’ll gladly pay that much to make my new wife happy as soon as she arrives.”
Arthur shook his head. “I’m really glad she’s coming so soon, Mortimer. I do hope you’ll be happy together.”
“The way I see it, happiness is something that you work toward. You can choose to love someone, or you can choose to be annoyed by them. I will choose to see the good in what she does, and we’ll be happy together.”
“I hope it’s that simple for you.” Arthur looked over at Beatrice. “Are you ready to go?”
“I am. We need to get little Sally home. It’s supposed to snow today, and I don’t want her out in the elements after her earache last week.” She smiled at Mortimer. “I will have someone here by the end of the week to start on your house. If you want any particular baked goods, I’ll make them happen for you.”
“Thanks. Both of you.” Mortimer watched them go, closing his eyes and daydreaming about his bride. In his mind, she looked just like Grace. A tiny little blonde with green eyes and a smile that lit up the room. What else could she look like? Surely God was going to make up for taking his bride by giving her back to him.