Chapter Three
Sweat trickled down Dean’s back as he finished mending the last section of fence. Evening was closing in and he had wanted to get the work done before dark. It made him feel good to know that he had made it. He straightened up and stretched his cramped back. Replacing rotten fence posts and stringing new wire was not easy and it was one of the jobs he hated most.
But, like always, Dean just got on with the job and got it done despite how he felt. He was good at pushing his feelings down deep. It made things simpler and it was less time consuming. He didn’t have enough time as it was because he had two kids to rise and a ranch to run. The work was never ending but he didn’t complain. It could be worse.
He threw the hammer he’d been using into his tool box and began walking back through the field to the barn It was early May but the spring was coming on fast. Dean hoped that didn’t mean there would be a drought that summer. Lord knew he needed a bumper crop this year because last year had barely kept them going through the winter.
As he walked, Dean looked at the lush, green grass under his boots and was thankful his cattle had good grazing to start the summer out with. They were a bit thin and he wanted to get them fattened up. No one wanted to buy a skinny steer. He needed his steers to go for a good price to make up for last year.
“Pa! Pa!” he heard his son, Jackson, holler.
Dean looked up and saw his seven year old boy running at him pell-mell. His wheat-blond hair flew everywhere as he ran. Jasper, one of their border collies, ran beside him, barking and jumping at Jack.
“Look! Uncle Seth just brought it!” Jack told him and thrust the letter at him.
Dean took the mail from Jack. The envelope was ragged and dirty on the edges, evidence of how many times it had changed hands to get to him. He looked at the return address.
“Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania? I don’t know anyone in Pittsburgh, let alone Pennsylvania,” he mused.
Jack bounced up and down next to him. “Is that what it says, Pa? Pittsburgh? Can I see?”
Dean smiled at Jack. “Yeah, sure. See right there.” He pointed it out to Jack. “I’ll get you to learn it and write it tonight, okay?”
Jack nodded. “I’m hungry. When ya gonna read it?”
Dean loved the way his son was able to focus on two things at once. His son had a busy mind and he was very intelligent for his age. He got that from his mother, rest her soul.
“You’re hungry? I’m not surprised. You’re always hungry. What are you making for dinner?” Dean asked.
That stopped Jack. “Me? I don’t know how to make anything except sandwiches and we had that for lunch. Can’t we have steak?”
Dean grunted. “Steak? What do you wanna have steak for? It’s not like you like it or anything.”
“Pa!” Jack said with a laugh. “You’re teasing me. C’mon, let’s go get dinner,” he said and tugged at Dean’s arm. “I’ll carry the toolbox. You’re probably tired from all that hard work you did.”
“Okay.” Dean agreed and gave the box to his son.
It was heavy and it fell to the ground at first but then Jack picked it up in both hands and began walking with it. He didn’t complain about the weight, but Dean could tell it was tough going. About halfway to the barn, Dean said, “Hey, Jack. You go on ahead and get cleaned up and tell Sadie to get that steak out of the cold cellar and get it on the stove. I’ll take the tool box. Where’s Uncle Seth now?”
“Went in the barn!” Jack shouted. He dropped the tool box and ran off to the house.
Dean smiled as he watched Jack go. He picked up the tool box and proceeded to the barn. Horses whinnied as they heard him approach. He stopped by each stall, patting and stroking sleek coats. His brother, Seth, came out of the tack room.
“I see you got your letter,” he commented.
Dean nodded. “Jack was all wound up about it. I guess it’s because we don’t get a whole lot of mail.”
“Who’s in Pittsburgh?” Seth asked. His blue eyes held curiosity.
“I have no clue,” Dean answered.
“Are you going to read it now?”
Dean frowned at his older brother. “You’re as bad as Jack. No. I’m going to read it after supper.”
“How is it you have so much patience?” Seth said shaking his head.
Dean retorted, “And how is it you have so little?”
Seth smiled. “Because you’re like Ma and I’m like Pa, remember?” It was an old joke between them.
“How could I not? You staying to dinner?”
“I better get some reward for bringing that letter here,” Seth said.
“Well, c’mon, then. I’m hungry.”
Sadie was her mother, Sarah, out and out, Dean reflected again as he watched his daughter set the table. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a long braid with little wisps flying about. Her coffee-brown eyes looked to and fro as she went about her work. At eleven, Dean saw glimpses of the beautiful woman she would become. He thought about the boys who would come sniffing around in a few years and his stomach clenched at the thought.
Sadie looked up and saw his expression. “Did I do something wrong?”
“What? No, sweat pea. I was just thinkin’ how pretty you are. Just like your Ma. I’m gonna have to beat off all the boys with a stick before too long,” he replied.
“Pa, do I really look like her?” Sadie said.
Dean nodded. “You sure do. Why do you think I tell you that? Look in the mirror and you’ll see your ma.”
Sadie’s smile of pride touched Dean’s heart and his throat constricted with emotion.
“Is it ready yet?” Jack said.
Dean checked the meat and saw that it was done. “Yep. Let’s eat.”
Once dinner was cleaned up and the children sent to bed, Dean sat down in one of the comfortable chairs in the parlor. The ranch house was one of the larger ones in the area because of several additions that had been made over the years. As the eldest son, Seth had originally inherited the house when their parents had passed on, but he’d given it to Dean because he’d gotten married. Seth had always been a talented cattle driver and preferred to be on the trail. Dean would rather work the ranch than drive the herds so it worked out for both of them. Seth still retained his share in the ranch, but didn’t like being tied down, which was why he’d never married.
Their parents, Ralph and Catherine Samuels, had built the house after they’d settled the land back in 1839, before that area of Montana was sectioned off into Dawson Country. Their house had been four rooms at that time, consisting of a kitchen, front room, and two bedrooms. It had been a lot of hard work, but their parents were determined to make a nice home and build a stable business to pass down to their children.
Seth had come along first, only six months after the house and barn had been finished. Back then, the barn had only been big enough for four heads of cattle; a bull and three cows. That was how their ranch had started. Another year passed and soon, Dean was born. When the boys were five and six, Ralph decided they needed more room because Catherine was again pregnant.
Another bedroom was added and the kitchen enlarged. Ralph’s father died not long after and his mother, Edna, came to live with them. That’s when they’d decided to add a second floor. There were three rooms upstairs; two large bedrooms and a wash room with a dry sink and chamber pot. They still had an outhouse, which they used most of the time except overnight and during the most bitter cold winter weather.
Dean and Sarah had lived with his parents until they’d passed away and then the young couple had taken over the house. Seth preferred to use one of the bunk houses when he was home, saying he liked the privacy and figured that Dean and Sarah didn’t want him blundering in late at night if he’d been drinking and such.
Marcus, their younger brother, had bought a place a few miles away four years ago. He also preferred privacy, not because he didn’t love his family but because he and Seth shared a common love of freedom. Not to me
ntion that Marcus highly prized books and learning. His house held more books than furniture. When he lived in Dean and Sarah’s house, he had run out of room for them all.
Dean looked around the parlor, which he and Seth had enlarged. Both he and Sarah’s chairs were nicely upholstered and thickly padded. Sarah’s was a rocker. He’d surprised her with them right before Sadie had come along, knowing she’d appreciate somewhere comfortable to rock their baby.
He remembered how thrilled she’d been and the joy that had lit up her face as she sat in the chair. Her belly had been wonderfully swollen with their child and Dean couldn’t have been happier. The chairs both had matching ottomans. Dean had traded a high quality heifer for the pieces and had never regretted it. Turning his head, he gazed at the sofa and smiled. It was another purchase with which he’d surprised Sarah. When she’d gotten farther along with Jack, she’d been more tired than with Sadie and so he’d gotten it so that she could lie down when she needed to rest.
He was equally happy when both children were born and loved having one of each. Sarah was a wonderful mother and took excellent care of her family. A lump formed in his throat as he remembered when Sarah had told him she was pregnant for a third time. He’d grabbed her and twirled her slowly, just as thrilled as he had been when she’d told him about Sadie and Jack. He remembered how excited Sadie and Jack had been, too.
It wasn’t to be, however. Sarah had gone into labor too early into the pregnancy. The neighbor woman at the time, Lydia, had done everything she could, but Sarah had hemorrhaged and both mother and baby perished.
Crushing grief had followed, and if it hadn’t been for Lydia and her husband, Charlie, he might have gone crazy from it. Both had been quick to make him see that he had two young children who needed him and he owed it to them to be strong. It wasn’t that he shouldn’t mourn, but he had to keep it together for their sakes. Lydia told him that Sarah would have expected that from him, and she’d been right.
Seth and Marcus had been on a drive at the time and he’d had only Lydia and Charlie to fall back on. Lydia had taught him some cooking, and Charlie had helped with repair work and kept Dean moving each day. Dean had buried his pain in work and taken comfort in his children. The last three years had been difficult, but not without joy.
Turning his mind away from all that, he looked down at the letter in his lap and wondered who it was from. He slit the envelope with a pocketknife and pulled out the letter. He detected a faint scent of ladies’ perfume.
Unfolding the letter, he read:
Dear Mr. Samuels,
I am responding to the advertisement placed with the Brooks Agency of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I found it to be touching and straightforward, which I appreciated very much. As I understand it, you are looking for a wife and mother-figure for your children.
“What the hell?” he said. Then it came back to him. “Marcus!” His younger brother, Marcus, had told him he should get married again. Dean had said that he didn’t know any single women, at least any reputable ones. That’s when Marcus had told him about mail-order brides and said that would be the perfect way to go.
Dean had been joking when he said it sounded like a great idea and why didn’t Marcus place an ad. “That jackass!” Dean swore. “I can’t believe he did this.”
Curious despite his anger, Dean read on.
Allow me to tell you about myself. I am five feet, nine inches tall and have dark brown hair, the color of a dark bay horse. My eyes are deep blue and I have a slender figure. I like to think I am kind and have good manners, although sometimes my parents are a little put out with me because I do not always follow the conventions of society.
I have an excellent sense of humor and enjoy the outdoors. I sit a horse well and can write, read, and do some mathematics. Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you this, as I am informed that many men are intimidated by educated women, but I somehow think you are perhaps more forward thinking than that. I would ask that you keep an open mind.
I have never been married and have no children, so I come unencumbered. I should like to have children so I hope you aren’t opposed to having more. Although it’s been a few years, I’m sure that you still deeply feel the loss of your wife and I am sorry you have had to endure such a thing. I would never presume to take her place, either in your heart, or in the hearts of your children. Rather, I would like to make my own place in all your lives and hope that we could be happy together.
I am looking forward to corresponding with you and becoming better acquainted.
Yours truly,
Theresa M. O’Connor
Dean read the letter several times and he was surprised to find that he was moved by this woman’s words. She was honest and sensitive and had added a little humor. He had to admit, his interest was piqued. Although tempted to write back, he had no idea how to respond. He decided to sleep on it and see how he felt in the morning.
Chapter Three