Cheyenne Mail Order Bride (Mail Order Brides Book 13) by Susan Leigh Carlton Page B

counted on this and was looking forward to showing her the ranch. And marrying. I wanted to marry her.”
    “What did she say? Did she give you a reason?” Clem asked.
    Wordless, Cal handed the letter to Clem. “Go ahead and read it,” he said.
    Clem sat on a bench by a window to take advantage of the filtered light. He read it twice, and looked at the writing closely.
    “Cal, come over here, and let me show you something.”
    Cal sat by him. “What?” he asked.
    “Look at the paper,” Clem said. “Those are tear stains. She was crying when she wrote this. She was afraid, and her fear kept her from doing something she wanted to do.”
    “Are you sure?” Cal asked.
    “As sure as I can be,” he said.
    “Well, I’ll be. I think you’ re right,” Cal said. “She told me she had never been more than twenty miles from home, and I was asking her to travel across the continent. Why should she be the one to travel? Why don’t I do the traveling, and then let her decide?
    “Clem, thank you. You have just helped me make a dec ision that may change my life. At the very least, I’ll get to see a lot more of our country,” Cal said.
    Clem smiled. “Helping a friend always helps you more ,” he thought. “So, what are you going to do?” he asked.
    “Do? I’m going to South Carolina. She doesn’t have to take on the unknown. I’m taking it for her.”
    Four days later, when the train pulled into the Yorkville station, the conductor came through, announcing the station and telling all interested, it was only a ten minute stop. Cal Pierce was one of two passengers leaving the train.
    “Where might I rent a carriage and get some directions?” he asked the station agent.
    “Mose, down at the livery, has a carriage he rents occ asionally,” the agent said. “He can pretty much tell you where everything is around here.”
    Carrying his luggage, Cal walked to the livery stable. “Are you Mose,” he asked the old man forking hay to the horses.
    The old man spat, and wiped the tobacco juice from his chin. “Depends on who’s asking” he said.
    Cal extended his hand. “Name’s Cal Pierce. I need a horse and carriage for a few days. I’m looking for the Sim pson place.”
    “Which one,” the old man asked. “ They’s two. They’s Clarence, and they’s Chris.”
    “Chris Simpson is the one I want,” Cal said.
    “Wa’al, Chris Simpson’s place is about five mile down the road toward Hickory Grove. He’s dead though. Killed in the war, he was.”
    “Could you tell me how to get there?” Cal asked.
    “Yep, I kin.” He looked Cal up and down. “That’ll be ten dollars for the horse and buggy. In advance.”
    With the directions in his mind, Cal headed the carriage in the directions indicated by the old man.
    He turned off the main road onto the path marked by the tall hickory nut trees on each side. He tied the reins to the hitching post in front of the faded white clapboard house.
    He knocked on the door. He heard noises within, so he waited. The door opened…
     

 
    chapter Fifteen
    Jennie? I’m Cal
    When Jennie opened the door, she was surprised to find a well-dressed man in his thirties standing there, holding what she would call a cowboy hat in his hand. He was one of the handsomest m en she had ever seen. He was not from around Yorkville; she knew everyone there, and there were not many men his age in the county.
    “Yes?” she said in her soft voice.
    Cal saw the door had been opened by a lovely woman in her thirties, wearing a yellow dress, protected by an apron with a floral print. Her hair was tied up in a green scarf. She brushed back the strand of red hair that escaped from beneath the scarf.
    “Jennie? I’m Cal,” he said.
    She dropped the feather duster she was holding in her right hand, her hand covered her mouth. “OhmyGod! You’re Cal and you came all this way to see me! I don’t believe it.”
    He smiled. “After I got your letter, I realized you had never traveled,