“True enough,” David laughed, clapping Seth on the shoulder. “Just remember, even the hardest soil can nurture if tended right.”
Seth nodded, his thoughts lingering on David’s words as he watched the mare circle once more, her coat shining like burnished copper in the fading light.
Seth hurried into the cool shade of the barn. He pulled off his hat, wiping his brow with the back of a hand.
“Jake,” Seth called out, spotting his foreman organizing tools by the workbench.
“Seth,” Jake replied, straightening up with a nod. “What can I do for you?”
“Need your thoughts on something,” Seth said. “It’s about this idea of finding a wife.”
“Ah,” Jake chuckled, scratching at his chin. “David’s been talking to you again, huh?”
“Yep,” Seth affirmed, his lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s got it in his head that I need someone to help run things. Says I need an heir too.”
“Can’t say he’s wrong,” Jake said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “A wife could be good for you—and for the ranch.”
“Maybe so,” Seth admitted, his tone matter-of-fact. “But it’s gotta be practical. I’m not one for all that lovey-dovey nonsense. She needs to know her way around a kitchen, and...well, she has to be sturdy. Capable of bearing children.”
“Sounds like you’re looking for more of a breeding mare than a bride,” Jake joked, but there was no malice in his voice.
“Suppose it does sound that way,” Seth said with a half-grin. “But this is serious business, Jake. A man’s legacy and all.”
“Fair enough.” Jake nodded, leaning back against the workbench. “Well, there’s the Mueller girl. Good with animals, strong stock. And the Widow Harris—she’s no spring chicken, but she’s got experience, knows how to handle a household.”
Seth pondered the suggestions, his gaze distant. “I’ll consider them. But it’s got to be the right fit. Someone who won’t balk at hard work or the Texas heat.”
“Take your time, Seth. She’s out there somewhere,” Jake said, clapping a calloused hand onto Seth’s shoulder. “And when the time comes, we’ll make sure the ranch is ready for a lady’s touch.”
“Appreciate it, Jake,” Seth replied, tipping his hat back on as he stepped out of the barn and into the late afternoon sun. The prospect of marriage still seemed foreign, but if it was necessary for the ranch, then Seth would find himself a wife—one who understood the value of hard work and the simple beauty of the land just as he did.
*****
SETH THUMBED THROUGHthe ledger on his desk, his brows furrowed as he calculated the costs of the recent cattle drive. The numbers added up nicely, but there was a figure missing from his life’s equation—a wife. He leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh, glancing around the sparse room that served as both office and living quarters.
“Mail-order brides,” he muttered to himself, the term echoing an idea that had been percolating in his mind since his last conversation with Jake. Efficient, straightforward, no need for drawn-out courtships or dances he had neither time nor inclination for. It was a business transaction, plain and simple. And he remembered that David had told him Susan had been a mail-order bride. And David’s sister-in-law had something to do with mail-order brides, though for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what.
He stood up, the wooden chair creaking under the shift of his weight, and pulled his hat down over his eyes. Striding out of the house, he made his way into town, the sun casting long shadows behind him as he went to send a telegraph. David had given him the name of his sister-in-law who was a matchmaker back east.
“Need wife. Strong, capable. Send details.” Seth spoke to the clerk, who transcribed his words with a rapid click-clack of the keys.
“Looking for love, are ya?” the clerk, Anthony Fennel, asked with a smirk.
“Practicality,” Seth corrected, his tone firm but not unkind.
“Suit yourself,” the clerk mumbled, handing over a copy of the message.
*****
SETH OPENED A LETTERhe’d received in response, the script flowing and feminine. It was from Elizabeth Tandy, who had been recommended by his friend, David, as a matchmaker.
“Dear Mr. Clinkinbeard,” he read aloud, his voice steady. “I understand your desire for a partner who appreciates the demands of ranch life. I believe I can assist you in this endeavor.”
Seth’s lips quirked upward slightly as he continued through the letter. Mrs. Tandy had a way with words that painted a hopeful picture without straying from the practicalities of the arrangement. He admired that.
“Mrs. Tandy seems to know her business,” he said to the empty room. He’d never talked to a matchmaker before, but he liked her approach to the task at hand.
Penning a reply took longer than he expected; choosing words didn’t come as naturally as roping steers. But eventually, he wrote:
