An Angel Out West (Mail-Order Bride) Read online

  An Angel Out West

  Emma Ashwood

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  March 1870

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Della Langston stood on the veranda overlooking the lake, darkened by hues of magenta and amethyst from the twilight sky. Trees lined the lake, their branches heavy with the newly sprouted buds which would soon crack open to release the soft colorful petals within. A cool breezed whispered around her, gently blowing tendrils of thick, brown hair off her face.

  “What are you doing out here? Oliver has been looking for you,” a young woman asked behind Della.

  She turned around and smiled when her green eyes fell on her friend Sarah. “I needed some fresh air.”

  “Oliver thinks you’re hiding from him. He has signed your dance card, and he can’t find you.”

  Leaning back on the concrete wall, Della sighed. “I am hiding from him.” She laughed when she saw Sarah’s eyes widen. “He’s insufferable and pompous. I’m only here at my mother’s insistence.”

  “Do you know how many women are vying for his attention? He’s taken with you. He’s wealthy, well-mannered, and very well connected. Some say he wants to secure a position in the government.” Sarah glanced behind as if to make sure no one was privy to their conversation.

  “I know, but he is off-putting,” Della flung her arms out in a wide gesture. “Don’t you want to know more about life than just this? There is a whole world beyond Boston. I want to explore, go out west, see something—”

  “Go west? Do you know how dangerous the journey is, and how barbaric the people are? You can’t be serious. We’ve everything we need here. Boston is a cultured city, and we’re lucky to be living here. You know, you’re already twenty-two years old, and you’re not getting any younger. Soon no man will want to marry you. Think on that.”

  “You sound like my mother and two sisters.”

  “Don’t you want to marry and have a family of your own?”

  “I do, but I also want to travel and explore. I would like a man who could offer me both love and adventure.” Della turned back to stare at the lake which had grown dark, reflecting the glimmering chips scattered across the black satin sky. No one understood her. All her friends, her sisters, cousins, aunts, and her mother were content to marry, raise a family, and continue in the same way as the generations before them, but she wanted more. She wanted to go west and be a part of the excitement of a new land.

  “There you are. Did you take ill?” Olive Pendleton stood by her side, concern lacing his voice.

  She groaned inwardly, “Yes, I did feel faint, and needed the coolness of the night air to refresh me. I’m better now.”

  “Shall we go in then? I believe I have the pleasure of the next four dances on your card.” He offered her his arm, and she placed her gloved hand on it and let him escort her inside the ballroom.

  Several days passed, and Della and her good friend, Anna, stepped down from the carriage in front of Jordan Marsh, a department store with a lovely tea room as well as high-end dresses and accessories for the ladies. Anna had been invited to a ball at one of the estates on the Cape, and Della had agreed to help her pick out a beautiful dress for the event. Della knew her friend was sweet on Bradford Whiteshire, one of the many young men who would be in attendance at the Ball.

  After looking at numerous dresses and a multitude of fabrics, Anna settled on a dark pink satin ball gown with tufted flowers in light pink and pale gold. “I’m famished. Let’s go inside the tea room,” Della suggested.

  The tea room was a bustle of activity as groups of ladies came and went. Perched high above the shops, sunlight poured in through the hundreds of glass panels which were a rarity in the city. It was one of Della’s favorite places because the light filtering in on a sunny day, created prisms of color which danced over the tables and floor.

  Nibbling on their cucumber sandwiches, Anna said, “My sister is getting married.”

  “Pearl?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t know she was courting. Is it someone I know?”

  “I doubt it. She’s never met him. He lives in the west, and she’s leaving in a couple of days to meet and marry him. She met him through the matrimony adverts in the paper.”

  Della stopped chewing and her eyes grew large. “She doesn’t know him? I have never heard of these advertisements.”

  Anna nodded. “They seem to be the rage right now since so many men have left to go west to find their fortune. There aren’t too many men left in Boston between going west and the war. Pearl’s good friend answered an advertisement last year, and she is happily married and with child. Pearl gave it a go, and she has met a nice man. He lives in a place by the name of Wyoming. He has a small ranch.”

  “Oh, what fun to travel west and experience a new adventure.” Della’s insides lurched as she thought of the excitement that awaited Pearl on her journey west. How she wished she were embarking on that journey. Heaviness pushed down on her—time was so fleeting, and if she didn’t seize the moment, it would be lost forever. I cannot marry Oliver Pendleton. I would surely suffocate from mendacity.

  “Where do the men publish advertisements for brides?”

  Anna finished the last finger sandwich, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and leaned in close to Della. “In the Matrimonial News. It’s a newspaper just for men seeking wives and women seeking husbands, but most of the advertisements are posted by men.”

  “Do they have their photographs in the paper too?”

  “Sometimes, but mostly not. My sister told me it’s very expensive to advertise, so if a correspondence begins, each side will exchange a photograph. Pearl’s man is older by about fourteen years, and he has a kind face. He isn’t particularly handsome, but he appears to have a good heart. I suppose Pearl will find out in about three months.”

  Anna then changed the subject, and she prattled on about the upcoming Ball and how she’d just die if Bradford Whiteshire didn’t sign her dance card. As she chattered, Della’s mind was on the expanse of the west, the open fields, the rolling tumbleweeds, the tall, jagged mountain peaks. She’d seen wet plates of pictures taken by one of her father’s business associates who’d traveled west to have a go at mining for gold. He’d come back to Boston to finish up some business and then he’d left, declaring to never return. She’d overheard him when he and her father spoke in the library over smoking cigars and drinking whiskey. He spoke of wonderful vistas so beautiful it made a grown man cry, and the openness of the frontier where a person couldn’t see another for miles and miles. When he’d spoken, it made her heart pound, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through her.

  “Are you listening, Della? You have that faraway look in your eyes again.”

  Pulled back to the moment, she apologized, “I’m sorry. I was thinking about Pearl’s exciting adventure. I would so love to travel west to see and experience it.”

  Smiling, Anna said, “Maybe you should pick up a copy of the newspaper and see if someone catches your fancy. You know your mother is pushing for you to marry Oliver, and I already know how you feel about him.”

  “I know my mother means well, but I wish she would leave it alone. She is so afraid that I’m going to end up a spinster. I’d like to meet a nice man, but Oliver isn’t the one.” She s
ighed and opened her coin purse to pay for her share of lunch.

  “Della Langston, you put your money away. This is my treat. You were good enough to come with me to help pick out a dress.”

  “You don’t have to buy me lunch. I had a wonderful day. You know I never pass up a chance to shop.”

  “I insist.” Anna gave the waiter the money, and the two women left the tea room, for downstairs to find a carriage to take them to their homes.

  While they waited for the concierge to hail a carriage for them, Della walked over to a small outdoor newspaper and leaflet stand. She spotted the Matrimonial News and, without thinking, placed her coin on the counter, walking away with the newspaper tucked firmly in the sleeve of her lightweight cloak. She didn’t want Anna to see her purchase. She’d be mortified if anyone found out what she was thinking. The thought of finding a suitable partner through a newspaper advertisement equally horrified and excited her. Believing it would be the only way she could venture out west, she’d have a look at the paper. If an advertisement grabbed her attention, she’d start up a correspondence, if for nothing more than as a friend through which she could live vicariously. It was also her safety net in case her parents forced her to marry Oliver.

  “Della, come quick. We have a carriage.”

  She ambled quickly toward the black carriage, a surge of joy and lightness radiating through her. She leaped onto the seat in the carriage and laughed when it took off as the wind tousled her hair.

  After supper, Della retired to her room, closed and locked her door, and took the Matrimonial News out from under her mattress. Barely breathing, her hands trembled as she thumbed through the newspaper, scanning rows and rows of advertisements and photographs. Several nice and not so nice-looking male faces peered back at her. On the last page, one photograph drew her in. Even though it was somewhat grainy, she could see his eyes were bright, and he was clean shaven unlike most of the others in print. She preferred a clean-shaven man, and she noticed he was wearing nicer clothes than most advertisers. Most of the men looked like miners, but he did not. Della came from a well-to-do family, and she wanted a refined man, someone who appreciated music, art, and theatre. She read his advertisement:

  212-An owner of a blacksmith shop who also owns land, lives

  in California, 28 years old, handsome, height 6 feet, weight

  185 pounds, dark auburn hair, brown eyes, wishes to correspond

  with attractive, honorable lady between the age of twenty and

  twenty-five, without encumbrances, who can cook, play the piano,

  and be fully qualified to help make a happy home: object, matrimony.

  She read the advertisement many times until she could recite it by heart. Looking at his photograph again, she pictured herself with this man in California. Just saying “California” aloud made her heart pound and her blood rush to her temples. Swallowing hard, she opened the drawer to her desk and took out the box of scented stationery. Dipping her pen in ink, she wrote her first letter to number 212, her heartbeat thumping erratically. The following day she would post it, then wait to find out if her future would be changed forever.

  Chapter 1

  One month later

  “I was hoping for this. I am very happy,” Della’s mother said.

  “Yes. The match will make our dear Della a very wealthy woman, and it will help me with gaining more business contacts. When Mr. Pendleton made the appointment, I presumed it was to ask for Della’s hand in marriage,” Della’s father replied.

  “There is so much to do. I knew he was taken with her, and I prayed he’d ask her. We couldn’t have asked for a better match for her.”

  Della stood hidden by the stairway, her hand over her mouth, the back of her eyes burning. They mean to marry me to Oliver. I can’t marry him! She lifted her skirt and tiptoed up the steps. When she closed the bedroom door, she flung herself down on her bed, her thoughts racing a mile a minute—she had to get away.

  For the past month, she had been corresponding with the young gentleman advertiser. Number 212 had a name—Clyde Ricks, and he wrote such beautiful letters. He told her of the beauty of California with its blue ocean and high mountains. Clyde wrote to her of spending nights in his grand house which felt so lonely and quiet, but he hoped to soon have her laughter in it. He hadn’t yet asked her to marry him, but she was ready to flee to California to court him, and to experience the life she wanted, not the one her parents wanted for her.

  “Dear God, please let me go to California. Please give me strength to endure the hardships, and please let my parents understand my decision. I don’t want to hurt them, but in Your wisdom, you know that I can’t marry Oliver. Please show me the way,” she prayed aloud, her chest heavy, her eyes shimmering.

  A soft knock on her door startled her, and she pushed herself up onto her elbows. Quickly dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, she smoothed out her clothing and opened the door. The maid stood before her, a white envelope in her hands. “Miss Della, you have received a letter.” She handed it to Della.

  “Thank you, Ida. I didn’t hear the bell of the delivery.”

  “It just came now, Miss Della.” Ida bowed slightly and shuffled away.

  Recognizing Clyde’s neat, small handwriting, Della clasped the envelope to her heart and slowly sank down on the chaise lounge. With tremulous fingers, she broke the wax seal and pulled out the crisp paper. She took a deep breath and steadied herself for whatever the letter had to say.

  My Dear Miss Langston: —Thank you for your last letter. From the letters we have been exchanging, you must be aware of my growing fondness for you. With each correspondence, my admiration becomes stronger, and I feel more than a friendship toward you. I have come to know your stellar character and qualities you possess which I desire in a wife. I hope you share the same admiration and feelings for me. Am I presumptuous in hoping that you will consent to be my wife? Please send me a telegram indicating your answer. Until I hear from you, I shall remain your anxious and ardent admirer,

  Clyde Ricks

  Della exhaled with relief. Right then, she had a way out of the situation her parents had put her in, and she would be able to embark on a journey she’d be dreaming about for a long time. She hurriedly threw her shawl around her shoulders, placed her hat on her head, and rushed out of the house to send her answer to Clyde. She was going to California to marry. The mere thought of it thrilled her and sent shivers up her spine.

  When she returned home, she knew she’d have to divulge her decision to her parents, but she so hated to disappoint them. Confronting them was certainly not something she was looking forward to. Through the closed door in her room, she heard her parents chattering downstairs. She wondered how she’d tell them that she’d accepted a marriage proposal from a gentleman arranged through a matrimonial advertisement. She doubted they would accept it, but Della would rather marry the man she'd come to know over the past month than the one her parents wanted for her—Oliver Pendleton.

  Smiling, Della read the letter one more time; she’d found a way out, and all she had to do was carry out her plan. She stashed the letter along with the others in a wooden box beneath her mattress and gathered the courage to face her mother and father. She took a deep breath and slowly walked down the stairs. The aroma of roasted potatoes and prime rib tantalized her nostrils as she entered the dining room. Her parents were already seated, and her father frowned at her as she slipped into her chair.

  “You are expected to be on time for dinner, young lady. Cook had to hold the food to wait for you to come home.” Her father tugged at the ends of his moustache and Della knew the familiar gesture meant he was very irritated.

  “I’m sorry, Father,” she said softly as she laid her napkin over her lap.

  “Where did you dash off to?” her mother asked.

  “I had to send off a telegram.” She avoided her parents’ eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floral pattern in the wallpaper nearest the window.

&nbsp
; “A telegram? To whom are you sending a telegram?” From the corner of her eye, she saw her father’s knitted brow as his gaze bored into her.

  Before she could reply, the cook burst through the side door carrying a large platter of prime rib surrounded by roast potatoes and carrots. She placed the dish next to Mr. Langston, and Della blew out a long breath, grateful for the distraction.

  Dinner proceeded with the usual conversations about the household help, the monthly budget, and a few reminders to Mr. Langston about upcoming social events. Della’s father never discussed business with her mother or her, even though Della asked him often about his dealings. He didn’t think a woman’s mind could handle the cold, calculating world of business, so he politely nodded to her mother and her when they discussed the latest fashion in ladies’ hats or the newest tea service her mother spotted at Jordan Marsh. Many times, Della wanted to scream from frustration. She was interested in her father’s work, she wanted to break away from tea parties, satin evening gowns, and hats stuffed with feathers.

  A smile whispered across her lips when she reminded herself that she was putting an end to the shallowness of her life. I’m going west! The thought tingled across her skin. Looking at her parents as they placed their napkins on the table, she knew she had to tell them about her decision. Bracing herself for a round of unpleasantness, she pushed back slightly from the table, inhaled deeply, and cleared her throat.

  "Father, Mother," she began. "I have something very important to tell you. Before I do, I want you to know I love you both dearly, but you have to trust me in making decisions for my life.”

  Her parents shared a look between them before looking at her in bewilderment. “What is it you want to say to us?” her father asked as he pushed up his glasses.