Mail Order Brides: A Bride for the Banker (Bozeman Brides Book 1)
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Authors: Emily Woods
Mail Order Bride:
A Bride for the Banker
Bozeman Brides
By
Emily Woods
Copyright
©
2016 Emily Woods
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
“I’m going to retire,” Robert Sanderson, manager of the Bozeman Town Bank, announced to his assistant Theodore Jefferson. Theo had been unprepared for the announcement and sank, rather than sat, into the chair he’d been offered in the older man’s simple office. The rough walls and wooden floors were similar to other buildings in the area, and yet there was an aura of respectability in the bank that no one questioned. Theo saw none of these features at the moment. And as if that one phrase weren’t shocking enough, Robert added another. “And I want you to take my place.”
“Surely you’re not ready to stop working yet,” Theo managed to reply, not attempting to hide his astonishment to the man who was not yet sixty. His dark eyebrows shot up over startled blue eyes. “You have years left to offer the bank and the people of Bozeman. And on top of that, I’m not ready to assume full control of this establishment.” He perched on the edge of his seat, hands clenched into fists as though to protest the statements.
“That’s partly true,” Robert chuckled, shaking his head and relaxing into his chair. “And it’s also why I called you into my office today.” He paused momentarily to look out into the bank, which was humming with men and women going about their business. He smiled and nodded as he caught the eye of one person or another, his rapport with the people so very evident.
Theo took advantage of this interlude to collect himself. He’d been well-trained by the very many who sat in front of him. There was no reason why he shouldn’t be able to take over the running of the bank in four to five years. He wondered what Robert’s timeline was, but he didn’t have to wonder for long.
The older man refocused his attention on the man before him, a man who, over the past decade and a half, had become like a son to him. “Theo, I don’t often give such personal advice, but I’m going to make an exception here. You need to marry, preferably within a year. Ruth has told me that my health is being affected by the stressful hours I put in here and wants us to go abroad. She has heard great things about the restorative waters of Switzerland.” Robert smiled affectionately at the portrait on his desk, which displayed a likeness of his wife of nearly forty years. “So, there you have it. Your timeline to prepare for this job is one year or less.”
“You certainly aren’t talking the job up very well,” Theo joked feebly in an effort to hide his concern for the older man who’d taken him under his protection for thirteen years. Before coming to Bozeman, Theo had been a confused young man of only seventeen, on the run from some depraved men.
“Yes, well, you’re up for it, as long as you can find someone who will take your mind off it at the end of the day the way my Ruthie does. It is stressful holding another man’s finances in your hands, but you’ll do a good job of it. You’re honest, clever and compassionate. Believe it or not, those are the main ingredients to a good bank manager, or a manager of any sort really. You’re a good man and the people of Bozeman will be lucky, no, blessed, to have you.”
Theo considered his words and knew that they were more than a compliment. The older man was preparing him for something more.
“How bad is it?” he asked directly, forcing Robert to drop the pretenses. The older man paused for a moment, stroked his immaculate gray beard and frowned.
“It’s hard to say,” he replied, recognizing the futility of trying to hide something of such magnitude from one of the people who knew him best. “Dr. Richards doesn’t quite know what it is, but I feel more tired than I used to.”
“Don’t we all?” Theo exclaimed. “But if you want to hand over the reins, I’d be happy to take them.” He would do that today if it would prolong this man’s life, but he had a major concern. “However, this wife business isn’t as easy as it seems. Who, for example, should I marry? Every single woman in Bozeman is either much too young or too old or, well, umm, not exactly the marrying type.”
Robert grinned wryly at Theo’s euphemism. “Yes, that’s true. Well, I’ve heard about something that seems to be working for a lot of men in the area. You’ve heard of mail-order brides, I presume?”
Taken aback, Theo regarded the man in surprise. “You can’t be serious? Marry a woman I’ve never met? From where? What if she’s unsuitable? What if we hated each other?”
Looking at him mildly, Robert gave a slight smile. “Now who in the world would hate a fine man like you?”
“You’d be surprised,” Theo said in an unguarded moment. Quickly, he covered his lapse. “But how would I even go about finding someone appropriate? And how would I be able to discern if she’s the one I should spend my whole life with?”
“Ah, you can leave that to me. Have I ever let you down before?” Robert asked seriously. When Theo had arrived so many years ago, penniless and broken, Robert and Ruth took him in and unofficially adopted him. He’d thrived under their care and soon became a respectable part of their community. They didn’t question him about his life before, and he was glad to leave it in the past. Coming to Montana was a kind of rebirth for him.
“No, sir,” he replied respectfully. “I just think…well, I don’t know what to think, but if you and Ruth think that I should do this, I will.” Theo wasn’t a weak man, but he knew that he owed this man his life. He would trust him for the future as well.
“Good man. It was Ruth’s idea, you know. She’s been praying over the matter at great length and will be delighted that you accepted this proposition. The two of you can work on a description tonight after dinner.”
“A description?”
“Yes, of yourself and of the type of woman you want. It will be read all over New York and I expect you’ll have dozens of women to choose from. Don’t you worry, my boy, Ruth will help you find the woman of your dreams.”
***
“He’s completely out of control,” twenty-three-year-old Margaret Davis fumed. She and her aunt were discussing the latest exploits of her brother, Jackson, who’d been caught sneaking into the house very early in the morning. Not only had he been very drunk, but a great deal of money bulged in his pockets, indicating that he’d been gambling again. Worse, he’d snuck out again this evening after having listened to his sister lecture him all afternoon. “He’s going to get himself killed one of these days.”
Her Aunt Edna sighed. She was the much older sister of Margie and Jackson’s father and was in no shape, physically or mentally to tackle such an issue. Her husband, ten years her senior wasn’t any help either. The two of them had taken in the pair four years earlier when their parents had died to a bout of cholera, but the raising of the boy had proved too taxing.
“I don’t know what to do,” Aunt Edna declared tiredly. “He’s the center of my prayers, but I don’t see an answer, my dear.”
Margie looked to her Uncle Henry who’d fallen asleep promptly after dinner as was his usual routine. Although he was thoroughly affable and generous to the both of them, he was no disciplinarian. The couple’s own two children had long left for adventures in other parts of the country, declaring New York to be stifling. Compared to Jackson, they’d been undemanding to raise.
As she looked around the modest home that had been paid for from the honest wages of her uncle’s general store, Margie sighed and realized that something drastic had to be done.
“I need to take him away from here,” she determined with confidence. “If I separate him from those bad influences and have him to myself for a time, perhaps I can reason with him. Maybe he needs to be given some responsibility and learn to be a man.”
Aunt Edna smiled indulgently at her niece. “He’s eighteen, dear. Most men don’t really become who they are going to be until they are in their mid-twenties or so.”
“Well, he’s behaving like a child, coming and going as he pleases and not thinking about anyone else. I’m going to have to do something about it. His going out again tonight was the final straw. I won’t have any more of this kind of behavior.”
Margie didn’t know what she would do, but she was not going to allow her beloved brother to wallow in a life of sin that might end up in his demise.
“Those characters are rather rough,” Aunt Edna admitted. Two of his ‘friends’ had called earlier in the evening and whisked Jackson away for a night of entertainment.
“Exactly!” Margie jumped out of her chair and began pacing the room. “But if I have anything to say about it, he won’t see any of them again.”
The older woman’s face reflected anxiety as she watched the younger woman stomp around. “If anyone can change him, my dear, it would be you. I don’t know what you’re going to do, but I will pray that you find an answer very soon.”
Shortly after their conversation, Margie retired to her room and began stalking around. She commenced her evening prayers, but they did not take their regular format. “God, You’re going to have to do something with that brother of mine,” she grumbled in exasperation. “He’s headed down a very dangerous path. Give me a sign, Lord. What should I do? How can I help him?”
Her mind raced with possibilities. There was a small inheritance from their parents that her aunt and uncle had insisted they keep in the bank. She could use that to travel somewhere, but then what? It wasn’t enough to start a business, but maybe they could get jobs in a town far from here. Her other relatives lived in California, but she worried that would just be another place for her brother to get drawn into a bad crowd. She needed to go somewhere far away, somewhere remote where the population was so low that the chances of Jackson falling in with the wrong kind of people were almost nonexistent.
Changing out of her day dress and into her nightgown, Margie lay down in her bed and waited for sleep to come. In the morning, she would go to the bank and take out the money. Like it or not, she and Jackson were leaving town and heading to parts unknown, the sooner the better.
***
“What do you mean it’s all gone?” she asked in a barely controlled voice that was laced with anger. The poor teller had relayed the news that their pittance was no longer being held at the establishment. “Where did it go?”
“Well, um, your brother is an equal account holder, or rather, he has been since he turned eighteen, Miss,” the poor man stumbled. “He came in several weeks ago and said that the two of you were going to invest it somewhere. He withdrew the entire amount.”
“Of all the selfish, inconsiderate, irresponsible…” Margie continued to seethe for a few moments before she realized that she was frightening the teller and a few other members of the bank. The manager approached her and urged her to calm down.
“Perhaps you would like to come into my office, Miss Davis?” the older man enquired solicitously.
Margie shook her head. “No, thank you. I have to track down that brother of mine and beat him senseless, but I appreciate your offer nonetheless.”
She stormed out of the building, leaving a sea of startled faces in her wake, and set her mind on what she would say to Jackson. All of her plans had hinged on using their meager inheritance to start up somewhere new. Now what could she do?
Stopping at the hotel for a cup of coffee and a bite to eat, she bumped into two acquaintances who were tittering on about the latest gossip.
“Margie!” Lydia called out to her. “Come join us. We have the most interesting things to tell you.”
Reluctantly, Margie approached the table. She’d been looking forward to some time alone, but manner dictated that she at least stop and talk to these women.
“Did you hear?” Betsy gushed, her sparkling and her hands fluttering around her chest. “Did you hear about Mabel?”
Mabel Lewis was another young woman from their social set. None of them was very wealthy, but their parents were well-established in the community and each one was considered a fine catch for any man of reasonable means.
“No, Betsy. I’ve had other things on my mind.” She didn’t want to engage them, but she knew that whatever had befallen Mabel would soon be made known.
“She ran away to marry some man in the West!” Lydia squealed in delight, nearly falling out of her seat at the declaration. “Have you ever heard of anything so outrageous! A mail-order bride of all things!”
The two of them broke out into helpless giggles, but Margie only frowned. She’d heard of such things happening of course, but not among their peers. Being a mail-order bride was for unfortunate women, those who had no family or other recourse.
“What would cause her to do such a reckless thing?” she asked them quietly, hoping they would get themselves under control. They merely looked at each other and burst into more laughter. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get an answer out of them, so she bid them a good day and took herself to a more remote part of the restaurant.
After ordering herself a coffee and scanning the newspaper that had been offered to her, Margie found her thoughts going back to Mabel. The girl was fairly level-headed, so why would she do something so rash as to leave behind everything and head off to parts unknown, some wilderness where no one knew her, where the town was barely civilized…
Margie blinked several times. Uncertain as to whether it was just her imagination or an answer to prayer, she found herself thinking about the idea in more detail. How would one go about doing such a thing? Was there a newspaper or an agency? What kind of man would she meet? Were they all rough and tumble cowboys? Her heart raced at the implications of her thoughts. An idea was forming in her mind.