Mail Order Husband

Mail Order Husband

(Revised)

by

Laura Mills

Smashwords Edition December 2015, 2023

Copyright 2015, 2023 by Laura Mills

All Rights Reserved

Edited by

Dawna Conner

Cover Art by

Haveseen

YSbrandcosijn

Published by

Mills Vivid Image

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter One

February 13, 1888

Dear Mr. Irvine,

I have enjoyed our conversations since the beginning and feel that you will be a good match as a husband and helper. After speaking with you for these past months, I believe we have enough in common to make this work, especially since you are not afraid of the hard labor involved. Please let me know your thoughts . . . Also, in answer to your mother’s inquiry, let her know that my favorite flavor of pie is lemon and tell her hello for me.

Sincerely,

Miss Susan Rhinehart

February 17, 1888

Dear Miss Rhinehart,

Going by your last letter I would have to agree that we suit. As I mentioned before, I have had inspirations of becoming a farmer and would welcome the opportunity to become your husband and partner. I look forward to your next correspondence and await your decision for us to meet in person. I can be ready for travel at any time.

Sincerely,

Jesse Irvine

Jesse placed the fountain pen back in a jar on the desk and then stood. He stared at the address already written on the envelope as he folded the paper, realizing that by sending this letter his future would forever be changed. He’d been in an adventurous mood ever since an opportunity presented itself at the general store in town. As he skimmed through new ledgers for the bookkeeping business, something made him look up at the bulletin board. Maybe it was the scent on the posted ad. He vaguely recalled the smell being similar to the Jasmine bushes that bordered the porch of his parent’s house. It was enough to gain his attention.

Since answering the ad, he and Miss Rhinehart have been writing letters. For two months he’s learned bits and pieces about farming life. A way of living he never thought he’d be interested in. And a young woman, who tends the farm alone since the death of her parents’. With her influence he’s studied about farm animals and ranch attire in his spare time. His waistcoat and floppy bow tie wouldn’t be fitting garments on a farm. He needs to trade them in for a vest, a work shirt and pull on cowboy boots. He placed the folded paper into the envelope. Which reminds him, adding a Stetson hat is of the uppermost importance of farming apparel.

His brother’s booming voice carried to his bedroom from downstairs. Jarod’s loud and obnoxious tone served as a reminder; it was absolutely necessary to make this change in his life. He glanced at a verse of scripture scribbled on the stationery that lay on his desk. This strong desire to give up his present way of life he owes to an unforeseen searching of his soul. Jarod’s laughter once again rose to the heights of his bedroom, making him cringe. Envelope sealed, he placed it in his pocket and headed for the post office.

February 20, 1888

Dear Mr. Irvine,

I am indeed pleased by your response. I, too, am looking forward to meeting you in person. I would like you to come to the farm by March 2. I have enclosed a map for you and I am proposing for us to be married on the following Sunday. If you’re in agreement this will be my last letter before we meet.

Anxiously awaiting your arrival,

Miss Susan Rhinehart

February 24, 1888

Dear Miss Rhinehart,

I will be there on March 2. I’m figuring on leaving around 9:00 in the morning, so I should be arriving by early afternoon. My mother sends her greetings to you and says she can’t wait to meet you. I have invited my family to the wedding, I thought you wouldn’t mind. I certainly won’t starve on my trip since my mother plans to pack about a week’s worth of food for me. I’ll have plenty left over to share and I am sure there will be a lemon pie included. Don’t worry my mother is a great cook.

I’ll see you in one week!

Sincerely,

Jesse

Cascade, Colorado

March 2, 1888

Riding on horseback, Jesse Irvine entered through the narrow walls of a canyon leading to the town of Cascade. Rumblings of water poured over multiple rock ledges on one side of the peak, descending into a large pool that fed the stream trailing along the base of the mountain. A heavy mist hovered within the narrow pathway creating a fine cloud over trees, shrubbery, and flowers, before quickly dissipating as the landscape opened up into a valley of grassland and flourishing vegetation.

In the near distance, several buildings cluttered the perimeters of the main pathway, and looking up you couldn't miss the majestic Pikes Peak Mountain, making its appearance along the northwest border of the settlement.

Adrenaline rushed through his body at the sight. This was to be his new home with new people for neighbors, and a different manner of living. He began to hum his favorite tune. After a five hour ride from his home town of Colorado Springs, Jesse chose to stop at the local eatery and grab a mug of sarsaparilla before finishing the last hour of his ride to the farm. His grin widened. The area looked promising, and just on the outskirts of this thriving town awaited a future of an uncertain farming life and a woman with whom he would share this journey.

The first building on the right was the recently built post office, and next to it was an eating establishment. As Jesse reined in his horse a black Labrador retriever got his attention by stretching its head over the edge of a wagon. Jesse slipped out of the saddle and stepped over to the dog, who was wagging its tail. He chuckled while giving the dog a scratch along its neck. Aren't you a happy camper, he said, his fingers working their way to the dog’s ears.

The ringing of a bell sounded as the door to the post office opened. A woman stepped out of the building and stopped as she witnessed him petting the dog. Katie, are you keeping this gentleman?

Jesse grinned. This must be the dog’s owner. She's worth the time, he said. The dog leaned into his hand doing the scratching.

The woman smiled back. Yes, I would have to agree. She proceeded to step forward, and while regarding him, fell flat on her face. Oh! she exclaimed.

Jesse gaped at the empty space where the woman once stood and then raced around the front of the wagon to where she had plummeted to the ground. Holy smokes! he said as he saw her trying to lift herself. Immediately he offered his help. Here, take my hand.

With one hand braced against the wagon and her other hand locked tight within his, she successfully came upright again.

Are you all right? Jesse asked.

She gave him a fleeting smile, Slightly humiliated, but otherwise I’m okay. The woman looked down at her feet and cursed the wooden edging of the walkway that she'd tripped over.

You've got a scrape on your chin. Are you sure you're all right?

Her fingers went to the scrape and pulled away with a small amount of blood on them. It's fine. I'll be fine, she told him and then stared at him as if bewildered. Is something else wrong?

No, he quickly answered, trying to figure out if she could possibly be his future wife. She had the right shade of brown hair as well as the unusual color of eyes that were described in the letters. It's only that your dress has dirt on it. You may want to brush it off, he suggested, fighting to keep his hands from doing the brushing for her. She happened to be a fine looker of a woman. Hopefully she is Miss Rhinehart, if not . . . his pulse started to race.

I’ll be okay. I'm on my way home. No one will see me like this, she assured him, paused, and then added, Except for you.

I won't tell a soul, he promised as he kept studying her hair and eyes, trying to match the vision he’d gotten from her letters.

Thank you.

Katie shook, demanding attention as the two humans came to a standstill.

The woman smiled, Yes, Katie, it's time to go. As the woman stepped up to the seat of the wagon, Jesse helped her.

Thank you, sir. Have a pleasant day. She looked down to acknowledge him.

Although she used her hand to block the sun from blinding her eyes, Jesse could make out her features perfectly now. It had to be her. He stood there examining her, speculating about identifying who he was.

Is there something else, sir? She asked in an amusing tone.

Enough pondering. Jesse cleared his throat, tore his gaze from her mouth to focus on her eyes. Yes. Are you Miss Susan Rhinehart?

The smile on her face froze. Yes, I am. Why?

Jesse sighed with relief and gave her a generous smile to ease the tension. I’m Jesse Irvine.

Miss Rhinehart’s features shifted and became perplexed. Should I know you?

Could there be two Susan Rhinhart’s? He didn’t imagine there would be in this close of vicinity. Or, was she exposing a deviant sense of humor? I would think so since we’ve been corresponding for two months now.

Her eyes narrowed. Corresponding? I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. Irvine.

His grin widened, going along with the gag, and in the interim took off his Stetson. Is this a joke? Are you putting me on?

She glared at him and then cocked her head to the side. Mr. Irvine, truly I haven't any idea what you are talking about.

By now he took her seriously, because either she was a damn good actress or she was telling the truth. He looked directly into those hazel eyes of hers, glittering from the sun’s bright rays. I’m your mail order husband, Miss Rhinehart.

Her jaw fell open. My what?

Her genuine expression of shock wasn't a good sign. He pushed his hat back on his head and placed his hands on his hips. I’m the one who responded to your advertisement for a mail order husband. We’ve been corresponding through letters for two months and have agreed that we suit. Have you suddenly changed your mind?

Her eyes flared as her lips thinned. I honestly have no idea what you are talking about. I have never posted an advertisement, especially not for a mail order husband!

Panic set in as Jesse strode to his horse and reached for the band of letters he kept with him. I have the letters here in my bag, he told her as he slipped a letter out of an envelope and handed it to her.

She snatched the letter and studied it. Her gaze lifted to his. I'm sorry to tell you this, Mr. Irvine, but I didn't write this letter. The signature certainly isn't mine.

He couldn't help but stare at her, trying to understand what had gone wrong. Did she disapprove of him physically? Was she trying to get rid of him because she had changed her mind and so was now denying writing the letters? Every day for the last two months he'd looked forward to her correspondence. In the beginning the letters were a ploy to antagonize his brother. After the first two weeks, though, he didn't share any more letters but kept them private, for his own viewing. A heavy weight settled in his stomach. As he stood before her now he could hardly believe this was happening. Miss Rhinehart, it has to be you, your description of yourself is an exact fit.

Her lips tightened even more. Mr. Irvine, I admit you have my name right, but please believe me when I say that I did not write this letter, she made clear as she handed the letter to him.

He