Measure of Grace (27 page)

When Martha had given her plenty to ponder on, she closed the Bible and said, “Well, what do you think?”

“It is all so new to me, Mama,” Diana replied. “I’m going to need some time to think about it.”

Nodding, Martha said, “I understand, honey. We’ll talk more about it after you’ve had time to think on it.”

At that moment, Diana’s line of sight fell on the folded newspaper, which lay on the small table nearby. “Did you get to read the paper yet?” she asked.

“Yes, I read all of it that I wanted to,” said Martha, picking it up and extending it to Diana. “You can throw it out.”

Taking the paper, Diana stood up and said, “I’ve got work to do in the kitchen. You rest. And if you need anything, just call.”

“I will, honey. And you be sure to give some earnest thought to those Scriptures I read to you.”

Diana nodded and left the room. When she entered the kitchen, she decided to take a look at the
Chronicle
before doing the work she had laid out for herself.

Sitting down at the table, she began running her gaze over the front page, reading the particular articles that interested her.

After a short time of scanning the pages as she turned them, Diana came to the classified section. Since the two full pages of this section didn’t interest her, she started to turn to the last page but her eye caught a column among the classified ads headlined: MAIL ORDER BRIDES.

Diana had heard of the mail order bride system, but was surprised to see that there was still a shortage of women on the western frontier.

Suddenly an idea flashed into her mind. This would be a perfect means to get away from her father and to have a living provided!

Yes!
she thought.
A husband out west. That’s big country out there. Papa would never be able to find me
.

An excited Diana let her eyes slowly run down the column, reading each ad carefully. Out of fourteen ads, there was one that arrested her attention more than the others. Slowly and precisely, she read it again.

Diana’s heart pounded as she contemplated the possibility that lay before her. Taking a deep breath, she read the ad slowly a third time, being careful not to overlook anything.

Laying the paper down, Diana thought on it, asking herself what her chances might be that Jordan Shaw would choose her.
He might get hundreds of responses
, she thought.
He sounds nice enough, but how will I know what he is really like? What if he turns out to be just like Papa?

The excitement she had felt at first seemed to slowly seep out of her heart. Picking up the paper, she read each ad once more. When she finished, she told herself the only one that captured her interest at all was Jordan Shaw’s ad, and certainly he wouldn’t be like her father.

Laying the paper down again, she put her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands. “What should I do?” she said in a whisper. “Do I stand any chance at all? Well, I’ll never know if I don’t try. I may never hear back from him, but it sure can’t happen if I don’t try.”

Rising from the chair, Diana picked up the newspaper and carried it down the hall. When she entered the parlor, her mother was stretched out on the couch, and her eyes were closed.

Thinking she was asleep, Diana told herself she would not disturb her. As she was about to turn and leave the room, Martha opened her eyes. “I’m not asleep, honey. I was just praying for you.
I was asking God to give us an answer very soon on where you should go.”

Diana swallowed hard. “I think maybe we have our answer, Mama.”

Martha’s eyes widened, then her attention went to the newspaper Diana was holding. “Tell me.”

“Well, I decided to read through the paper like you did, and—”

Martha frowned. “And?”

“Well, I happened to notice the mail order bride section in the classifieds. I … ah … I read the ads. There is one I want you to read.”

Martha sat up, adjusted herself on the couch, and blinked. “Mail order bride? I never thought of that. Let me see it.”

Handing her the paper, which was folded with the mail order bride ads in plain view, Diana put her finger on Jordan Shaw’s ad. “This one.”

With the paper in her free hand, Martha supported it with the arm in the cast and began reading. Raising her eyes to her daughter’s face when she finished, she said, “Quite impressive. You don’t like any of the other ads?”

“No. This is the only one that interests me. What do you think, Mama? Should I answer him?”

Martha let a smile curve her battered lips. “Honey, it might indeed just be the answer we’ve been looking for. Jordan sounds like a nice young man. His requirements are in good taste. I especially like the part about moral character, valuing family, and loving children. And we wouldn’t even have to come up with any money. That would have been the hardest part of getting you away. Your very life is at stake. Seems to me those are my prayers being answered. I hate to see you go so far away, but if you can marry and be happy, this is what I want for you.”

Suddenly the excitement was back in Diana’s heart. A smile broke across her face. “All right, Mama. I’ll write the letter as soon as I get some of the work done in the kitchen. I’ll take one of the saddle horses into town so I can mail it today.”

“Good!” said Martha. “I have a feeling this is going to work, no matter how many replies young Mr. Shaw gets to his ad.”

Diana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Papa will never be able to find me way out in Idaho.”

In little more than half an hour, Diana had the work done and sat down at the kitchen table with pen, ink, paper, and envelope before her.

Trying to still her shaking hands, she clasped them together in a tight squeeze and formulated the letter in her head. She told herself she would make a rough draft, make whatever adjustments she found necessary, then write the real thing.

Picking up the pen, she dipped it in the inkwell and began. She paused after two lines as a random thought crossed her mind.
This one letter could change my whole life
.

“Please, God,” she whispered. “Let it work.”

Having worked on the letter for over an hour, Diana entered the parlor to find Dennis sitting on the couch next to his mother. Diana stopped and said, “I’m … ah … finished, Mama.”

Martha noted the letter in Diana’s hand and said, “Dennis, why don’t you go back outside and play for a while? Mama and Diana need to talk.”

“Okay!” said the little boy, hopping off the couch. “I’ll come and see you later, Mama.” With that, he put on the jacket that lay on a nearby chair and bounded out of the room.

Diana sat down next to her mother, handed her the letter, and said, “See what you think.”

Taking the letter, Martha said, “I wish this didn’t have to be. But your father has made it imperative.”

Diana eased back and watched her mother’s face as she read the letter silently.

There was excess moisture in Martha’s eyes as she said, “Honey, I’m sure Jordan will love the way you express yourself, and by the very spirit of the letter, he will fall in love with you.”

Suddenly Diana’s eyes misted up. She embraced her mother, being careful not to hurt her, and sniffling, said, “Mama, I want to get away from Papa, but I can’t leave you.”

“Honey, you have to go away. If you’re not gone by the time your father gets out of jail, your life will be in danger. I’d rather have you alive in Idaho than to see you buried in Virginia. Please. Go saddle one of the horses and get this letter to the post office in town as fast as you can. Time is of the essence. I want this letter in Jordan’s hands before he replies to some other young woman, asking her to be his mail order bride. And I want you out of here on your way to Idaho as soon as possible. These letters are going to take a week or more both ways. Hurry, honey.”

Martha’s words caused her daughter’s mixed emotions to settle into one single goal. She sealed the letter in the envelope, saying she would be back later, and rushed out the door.

At the same time Martha was commenting on Diana’s letter to Jordan Shaw at the Morrow farm, Pastor Sherman Bradford entered the Richmond police department and approached the sergeant on the desk.

“Hello, Pastor Bradford,” said Sergeant Ed Cantrell. “What can I do for you?”

“I would like to visit Stu Morrow,” said the preacher.

At that instant, Chief Constable Bob Perry came out of his office, spotted Bradford, and headed for him. “Pastor Bradford! Nice to see you.”

“I was about to take him back to visit Stu Morrow, Chief,” said Cantrell.

“I’ll take him back, Ed,” said Perry.

The sergeant nodded. “All right, sir.”

When Perry and Bradford stepped into the cell block, the chief pointed to two prisoners in separate cells. “Those guys are both sleeping off drunken stupors. The curse of alcohol. My job and
yours would both be a lot easier if that curse was never invented.”

“You’re right about that, Chief,” said Bradford.

Leading the preacher up to Stu Morrow’s cell, they saw the big man lying on his bunk, hands interlaced behind his head.

“Morrow,” said Perry. “Pastor Sherman Bradford is here to see you.”

Stu sat up, a dark scowl capturing his face. Rising from the bunk, he approached the bars and swore vehemently. “Well, I don’t want to see you, preacher!”

“Enough of that, Morrow.” said Perry. “Mind your manners.”

The door to the hallway opened, and Sergeant Ed Cantrell said, “Chief, Lieutenant Dirk Bowers needs to see you right now. It’s very important.”

Perry nodded at Cantrell, then pointed a stiff finger at Morrow. “You listen to what Pastor Bradford has to say. And watch your mouth.” With that, he wheeled and left with the sergeant.

Fixing Bradford with eyes like pinpoints, Stu growled, “I’m not interested in a thing you’ve got to say, Bradford. So go waste your time elsewhere.”

Taking a step closer to the bars, Bradford said, “How do you like being locked up?”