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House Springs, Missouri –June 1843
The letter in Montana Kincaid’s saddle bag called out to him, itching to be read. He’d waited plumb near two hours and still hadn’t gotten a moment of solitude since they’d left town. If his brother, Caleb, wasn’t with him, one of their hired hands seemed to be close enough to watch his every move. Even out in the field, herding the cows in the south pasture, he wasn’t alone. They’d be done soon and then he could make an excuse for riding back on his own. That would be the only time he would get to read his letter in private, at least before he went to bed that night.
Receiving mail was one of the few forms of entertainment available. The last thing Montana wanted was people being entertained at his expense. He hadn’t told anybody that he had replied to an ad for a mail order bride. His letters from Mary were personal. Nobody needed to know about her yet, but him. Well, at least until he could persuade her to come to House Springs and become his wife. She’d indicated in her previous letters that she had some things to tend to and that she would come before Sarah’s baby was due, which was in December.
Waiting nearly six more months seemed like an eternity—not that he already hadn’t waited, given he was twenty-seven years old. How bad was it that his kid brother found a wife before he had? Sending for a mail order bride hadn’t turned out too terribly bad for Jessie. Granted, Sarah’s pa ended up dying, but that was his own fault. Montana learned from Jessie’s mistakes and made sure to ask Mary all about her family when they began corresponding.
Mary Dobson lived with her aunt and uncle because she lost both her parents to Diphtheria when she was a little girl. Her aunt and uncle were set on marrying her off, but Mary hadn’t taken to any of the suitors they had introduced her to thus far. She had confided that he was not the only man who had responded to her advertisement for a husband. While he worried she might not find him as appealing in person, the only thing that mattered at the moment to Montana was, she no longer wrote anyone else but him. He couldn’t help but smile at that thought.
Would she look anything like he’d envisioned? She wrote that she had long, brown hair and she wore up except for when she went to bed. Then, she braided it. He told her that he had brown hair too, and a mustache, which she said made her smile. She apparently liked mustaches and she didn’t mind that his eyes were brown. The fact that she looked forward to seeing them in person stirred a yearning deep inside his chest.
Mary told him that her bright green eyes stood out against her pale skin and that she had a narrow face. He’d written back and told her that she would have plenty of opportunity to get some sun in Missouri, especially being fairly close to the river. He could take her out on a boat and go fishing. Ma didn’t mind fishing, so he was sure Mary would enjoy it as well. At least she had agreed to give it a try.
“Are you daydreaming again?”
Montana startled. “Well, you ain’t very good company, Caleb.”
His brother laughed. “That I ain’t. I was thinking about heading into town and playing some cards later. Wanna come?”
“Nah.” Montana steadied his horse. “You know Ma doesn’t like us gambling.”
“What Ma don’t know...” Caleb’s words trailed off as he prodded his horse in the sides with boots and rode away. “See you at home.”
When Montana was thinking of how many ways Ma would tan Caleb’s hide, a sudden thought occurred to him. He was alone. Truly alone. No one could see the boyish grin that crept to his face as he dug into his saddle bag and retrieved Mary’s letter. He took a whiff. Smelled of lilacs. No doubt she smelled of lilacs, too. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t wait to find out.
Mary’s handwriting was elegant, unlike his. It took Montana a lot of effort to write legible enough for Mary to read his letters. He hadn’t had much need for writing since he got out of school. Given that he’d only gone to the eighth grade, it had been quite a while.
Montana turned the envelope over and carefully opened it to retrieve the letter inside. It read:
My Dearest Montana,
After everything you have told me about Jessie and his wife, Sarah, I feel I need to be honest with you. Earlier this year I had been corresponding with a potential suitor, Calvin Peters, to whom my aunt and uncle had introduced me. I had responded to his letters out of politeness and respect for my aunt and uncle. However, I came to feel uncomfortable with the nature of the letters he was sending me and wrote him two months ago to tell him I was not interested in pursuing marriage with him.
To my surprise, I received a letter from him today. In his letter, he seems somewhat confused. I thought I had made my intentions perfectly clear, but he insists that things would be different if he came here to see me again. I can assure you there is nothing that he could say or do that would convince me to change my mind.
I hope that you don’t mind that I intend to come earlier to see you than we had previously discussed in our recent correspondence. As soon as I mail this letter, I will secure a seat on the stagecoach and should be leaving within a day or two.
I have given my friend a letter to give to Calvin Peters should he show up in Carson City as he has implied that those are his intentions. I do not wish to be here when he arrives. I fear he has become overly enamored with me to the point that I have become fearful.
Please know that I would never knowingly cause you any grief, and I will totally understand if you do not wish to see me upon my arrival. If you do, I hope that we will be able to be married soon. I am ready to begin a new chapter in my life.
All my affections,
Mary
Montana’s fists tightened. He didn’t want to accidentally scrunch the letter from Mary, but it was hard to loosen his grip when all he could think of doing was punching somebody. Calvin Peters to be exact. The man had best hope that he never crossed his path.
The only consolation was that Mary would be there soon. A clump formed in the pit of his stomach. There was one thing left to do—let Ma know that she’d have another daughter-in-law soon. Telling her couldn’t be any worse than cleaning out a horse’s stall. It might stink during the process, but it would be better once it was done and over with.
