A Bride more Precious than Gold (Preview)

Cedar Bluff, Texas

Spring 1880

Chapter One: Wyatt

Thank goodness the funeral service was almost over. It was a surprisingly warm spring day, and twenty-three-year-old Wyatt only wanted to be alone, to find a place where he could sit quietly and think about his grandfather, who had left such a huge impact on his life. In fact—

An elbow nudged him, and he glanced toward his nineteen-year-old younger brother Eli with a frown. “What?” he whispered.

He leaned close. “You ought to be the one giving the eulogy, not Pa,” Eli replied, his voice low. “You’re the one who got along with him so well and spent most of your time with him growing up.”

That was true. His grandfather, Silas Bartholomew Langford, had meant the world to Wyatt. They’d spent so much time together since he was little. As his father had given the eulogy, Wyatt couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only one in the family who had truly understood the sense of restlessness that had plagued his grandfather, one that he’d also shared since he was a youngster.

Eli leaned closer. “You could’ve told everyone about the time—”

“Shh,” Wyatt hushed. The eulogy was over. Reverend Buskager concluded the service. Wyatt sat on the bench while his family members and local congregation slowly filed out. He lingered behind, unable to leave just yet, staring at the coffin with a heavy heart. Lord, how he’d miss the old man. No one had understood him as well as his grandfather had.

“Coming, son?”

He looked up and nodded to his father, Walter Langford, hovering at the end of the bench and waiting for him in the aisle. His father had always had a troubled relationship with his grandfather. Sometimes, Wyatt’s close relationship with his grandfather had often caused bouts of conflict between them, but the bonds between grandson and grandfather had never broken, even though his grandfather had often been away for months at a time.

“Yes, sir,” he said, rising. 

As Wyatt stepped from the church, he saw the crowd of parishioners gathered around his mother and siblings offering condolences. His mother, Martha, had light brown hair, only now showing a sprinkling of gray around the temples. His father still had a full head of thick dark brown hair, while his own was a rusty brown. He had his father’s hooded hazel-green eyes and skin tone, as did his two brothers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching and glanced over, his heart sinking when he spied Thaddeus Crane. The man had been a pain in their sides for the past few weeks, on the far side of middle age, with a mane of gray hair. His skin was pale and soft, not tanned from years of exposure laboring with the cattle under the hot Texas sun. 

As Thaddeus approached, his father saw him too. He held out a hand as if to prevent the man from coming closer. “Now is not the time, Crane.”

“Just offering my condolences, Walter.” He paused. “And also to inquire if you’ve reconsidered my offer to buy your ranch. I’ve been approved to increase the budget by another two dollars an acre, which—”

Walter interrupted. “I told you no, and it’s going to stay no. I’m not selling. Now stop asking.”

With that, Walter turned and headed for his family. Wyatt frowned at Crane and turned to follow. The man’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. Wyatt spun around, eyes narrowed on Crane until he let go.

“You tell your father he’ll never get an offer like that again. Land is selling fast these days,” Crane said.

Wyatt shook his head, annoyed at the man’s lack of respect at a funeral service. “What are you going to do with a ranch, Thaddeus, other than reap the profits of our decades of hard work building it? You’re just another wealthy businessman from back east, wanting to own an already thriving ranch without having to put in an ounce of hard work into it of your own.”

Thaddeus frowned. “I’m a patient man, Wyatt. I usually get my own way in the end. Ultimately, every man has his price. Just think about it, Wyatt. That kind of money would set your family up in comfort for the rest of your lives.”

Wyatt’s temper rose, but he held it back and heaved a sigh. “Like my father said. This is not the time. My father has told you that the answer is no, more than once. Now leave him and my family alone.”

With that, he turned to join his parents and brothers, trying to appear calm while fuming inside. People like Thaddeus Crane arrived in Texas more often now. Unfortunately, there were also those like Thaddeus Crane, men who had grown accustomed to amenities in the east that were still hard to get out here. Thaddeus was different, though. He’d let it slip that he only wanted to buy the ranch, live on it for a year or two, and then he’d turn around and resell it at a healthy profit.

He stood next to his family as they received condolences and well-wishes from neighbors and friends, many of whom knew his grandfather well, if not always kindly. Silas Langford was a well-known figure around Cedar Bluff, but perhaps less due to his remarkable acumen as a cattle rancher and more as an eccentric who often went on treasure hunts, looking for elusive gold and other treasures believed to have been left by Spanish explorers two centuries or more ago. Then the treasure had become gold bars shipped out west during the War Between the States, and a time or two, gold and silver stolen from banks by outlaws. It didn’t seem to matter much to Silas Langford. Treasure was treasure, and he was determined to find it.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned with a scowl, thinking it was Crane again, but then offered a small smile as he recognized his grandfather’s best friend and lawyer, Josiah Burke. He held out his hand. “Thanks for coming, Josiah,” he said.

The old man nodded, what remained of his hair gray and wispy, floating softly in the early morning breeze. The wind never stopped blowing on the Texas plains. 

“Won’t be the same around here without Silas,” he said sadly.

Wyatt agreed. Josiah looked like he’d aged years since his grandfather had passed away several days ago; eyebrows lowered in a frown, his puffy bags under watery eyes, shoulders pulled slightly inward, and his mouth pulled down into a frown. He’d never seen Josiah without a smile. “You doing all right, Josiah?”

“Sure, sure,” the old man replied. “But let me tell you. It’s just hard to accept the loss of someone you’ve known for nearly seventy years.” He pulled the collar of his frock coat, glancing toward the family still gathered at the side of the churchyard. “At my age, you get used to friends dying off.” He squinted into the morning sun. “Maybe my turn comes next.”

“I hope not,” Wyatt said, meaning it. He’d always liked Josiah. The man shared the same sense of humor as his grandfather had.

“I know now’s not a good time, Wyatt, but in the next few days, I need you to come by my office. I have something of your grandfather’s to give you.”

Wyatt frowned. “What is it?”

“Wait until I see you.” He cast a glance once more toward the family. “But don’t tell your father that I asked to see you, all right?”

Wyatt shrugged. “All right.” 

 It seemed as if Wyatt had been the only staunch defender of his grandfather. Silas Langford had long since become a source of embarrassment to his father, Walter, shamed that the patriarch of the family had continually abandoned young Walter and his mother and siblings in pursuit of fool’s gold. 

As far as Wyatt was concerned, though, his grandfather was his hero. The man had had a dream, and he followed it wherever it took him, come what may. He’d never left his family without a roof over their heads, funds to live on, nor an efficiently running ranch—

“Wyatt!”

“I better go. I’ll try to come into town tomorrow or the day after.”

“Through the grace of God, I’ll still be here,” Josiah said, then turned and entered the church, likely to say his own private goodbyes to his lifelong friend.

*

Two days later, Wyatt rode into town to pick up some range supplies and collect the mail for his mother. After he’d stored the supplies in the bed of the buckboard, he drove it over to Josiah Burke’s law office on the eastern edge of town. Cedar Bluff had grown over the past decade. Entering town on Main Street from the west, he rode past the shoemaker’s shop and the new telegraph office. Then he passed through the intersection on First Street, waving a friendly hello to Nils Sorenson, the mercantile owner, busy sweeping the boardwalk in front of his store. 

Past an empty lot on the far side of the mercantile stood the office of Josiah Burke, Attorney at Law. He pulled the team of horses and buckboard up front and dismounted, looping the reins over the hitching post before stepping up onto the wide plank boardwalk.

He knocked once and stepped inside the rectangular structure, the short side facing the street. Silas practiced law in the front portion of the structure and lived in the back behind an always-closed door. 

“Wyatt! I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Sit down, sit down …”

A shelf of law books stood immediately to his right, and two glass windows, one facing the street, the other behind his desk. Josiah sat at that desk, papers and documents spread across its surface. In the corner of the room stood another shelf from which piles of papers, documents, and ledgers were stacked haphazardly. Two wood-backed chairs stood in front of the desk. Wyatt took one.

“I was in town collecting supplies,” Wyatt explained. “Figured that now was as good a time as any.” He frowned slightly. “You said my grandfather left something for me?”

Josiah nodded and placed his fountain pen down on the desk, seemingly not minding that the ink remaining on the nib made a dark splotch on the paper below it. He reached into a drawer, extracting an old, worn envelope.

“I’ve been hanging onto this for about six months now, per your grandfather’s instructions.” He paused, tapping the letter against his fingers a moment before he looked up once more at Wyatt. “He seemed to know he wasn’t long for this world, but he left this for you, hoping that it would bring you some comfort, hope, and maybe even offer you a bit of excitement. His words, not mine.”

“What is it?” Wyatt asked, eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “You know what it says?”

“Course I do,” Josiah replied. “He wanted to make sure there was a witness. It’s got my signature on it, in addition to his.” Before he handed the letter over to Wyatt, he eyed him for several moments. “After you read this, if you decide not to go through with it, I would appreciate it if you would keep this between us. Your father probably wouldn’t be too pleased with the contents.”

Wyatt had been curious before, but now he was even more so. The Langfords had always lived comfortably.  He took the envelope from Josiah and glanced down at his name written in ink on it. He felt the tug at his heart at the familiar writing. It was hard to believe he was gone, hard to believe that he would never see the old man again. He would never hear his crackling laugh or the stories he told, nor about the adventures he had been on that had enthralled Wyatt since he was a little boy.

“You don’t have to read it here, Wyatt. But after you’ve read it, give it some thought and then come see me.”

Wyatt frowned. What was in it? He decided he didn’t want to wait. “You mind if I read it now?”

Josiah leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Makes no never mind to me, but if you want some privacy …?” He started to rise.

Wyatt waved him down. “Stay where you are, Josiah. I’ll read it.” He hesitated only a moment before he opened the envelope and slid out the single sheet of paper folded inside. His grandfather’s familiar writing filled the page. The opening lines told Wyatt how much joy his grandfather had gotten from him over the years; the companionship, the excitement they shared every time Silas went on another treasure hunt. He’d almost reached the end when the last couple of sentences gave Wyatt a jolt.

‘If you’re reading this, Wyatt, I’ve already passed on. Well, now that I’m gone, I’ve left one final treasure hunt for you, but it has one non-negotiable stipulation that you must comply with if you accept to undertake the hunt …’

There was more. When he was finished reading, he glanced at Josiah, eyes wide with surprise.

“Married?” Wyatt gasped.

Josiah nodded. “Non-negotiable,” the lawyer said. “You must marry before I can give you the first clue on where to find it.”

Wyatt stared at his grandfather’s best friend for long moments, stunned. Finally, he managed to speak, his voice filled with disbelief. “Where am I supposed to find a wife who will agree to marry me just so that I can go off on a treasure hunt?”

Josiah shrugged and then grinned. “Silas suggested that you could always try a mail-order bride service.”

“A mail order—”Wyatt took a breath. “What had his grandfather been thinking? Why would he ask such a thing of him, especially when his grandfather knew that his own years of treasure hunting had nearly severed his relationship with his own son and his family?

“I don’t understand,” Wyatt murmured. “Why would he make such a stipulation?”

“You knew how your grandfather felt about his treasure hunts. That it’s serious business and requires extreme dedication and focus—”

“And marriage helps that how?” Wyatt exclaimed. “And I’m supposed to be able to dedicate the amount of time and focus that’s needed for a treasure hunt when I’ve been saddled with a bride?”

“Look, Wyatt, you could clear your conscience when you place an ad or start corresponding with a likely candidate for a wife by stating that you’re looking for a marriage of convenience—”

“I don’t want a marriage of convenience! I don’t want to get married at all!”

“—which is the way most of these work out anyway—”

“Didn’t you hear me, Josiah? I don’t want to get married,” Wyatt repeated. “Just between you and me, I want to live an adventurous life myself, to be my own man, away from the expectations my father has of me taking over the family ranch someday. Troy’s the oldest. The ranch will belong to him anyway.” He paused, the blood pounding through his veins. “I’ve always wanted to earn my own financial freedom, to live my life the way I want, just like my grandfather did the last two decades of his life.”

“And this is your chance to do that, Wyatt,” Josiah said patiently. He gestured toward the letter. “Silas has left you the first clue. It’s your choice whether you take it or not, Wyatt.”

“But—”

“Your grandfather said he’d found a most valuable treasure, and that if anyone found it, it would be you. He also believed that treasure would give you the freedom to be your own man, just like it says in that letter, doesn’t it?”

Wyatt glanced down at the paper in his hand and nodded. “He writes that I would find the greatest treasure of all.”

Josiah nodded. “Take your time to decide. I’ll be here with the first clue if you decide to go through with it.”

Stunned, Wyatt left Josiah’s office, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t believe this. Treasure. Marriage. Why did he have to get married to go hunt for a treasure? What was his grandfather thinking? What would his parents think when they heard? No, he couldn’t tell them, at least not yet.

Even so, as he climbed back into the buckboard and headed back to the ranch ten miles out of town, Wyatt’s thoughts raced. A treasure hunt, one that his grandfather assured him would not only end in success but make him rich and free. How could he turn it down?

Chapter Two: Elsie

Spring 1880

Fairview, Massachusetts

“I want to leave,” Elsie murmured under her breath. She didn’t understand why she had allowed her aunt to convince her to attend the social function of the church ladies’ club in the first place. She felt extremely self-conscious, although her aunt had assured her that her dress was lovely and fit her just so. It wasn’t her clothing that concerned her.

“Patience, child,” her aunt murmured into her ear, softly patting her arm. “Just a few more minutes of mingling and then we’ll leave, all right?”

Twenty-three-year-old Elsie glanced at her wizened Aunt Agatha, her copper red hair streaked with gray, her kind eyes, and gentle smile. She felt guilty for feeling so glum. Her aunt was a wonderful person, and she loved her dearly. Yes, the woman had put a roof over her head for the past five years, but she wanted to go home to Cedar Bluff, Texas … even though there was no longer a home waiting for her there.

“Look. There’s Maybelle.” Her aunt’s chin jutted toward the outside wall of the room in the Fairview Music Hall, filled with people wearing their finest for the first orchestral gathering of the season.

Elsie’s heart lifted immediately. Maybelle had been her dear friend for the past five years. Maybelle’s family lived next door to her Aunt Agatha. From the moment she’d arrived in Fairview following the tragedy that struck her family, eighteen-year-olds Elsie and Maybelle had been the best of friends.

She turned to her aunt with an apologetic smile. “May I, Aunt Agatha? I don’t really want to leave you to fend for yourself among all these well-meaning wolves.”

Agatha laughed. “Oh, Elsie, you have such a way with words. It’s a fundraiser, dear, not a hunt.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” Elsie murmured. Before her aunt could reply, she gently clasped the older woman’s hand with a look of not-so-sincere apology and quickly made her way through the throng of guests until she caught Maybelle’s eye. They came together near the door that led outside to a veranda and quickly disappeared through it.

“Oh, I thought it would never end,” Elsie groaned softly. “I wish we could’ve sat together. It might have made it more bearable.”

“That’s why I made sure to find you and steal you away so that we could get some fresh air.” Maybelle smiled. “That said, do you have something against Mozart?”

“Not at all,” Elsie grimaced. “But you know how I feel about crowds and being about in public.” She thought it would have become easier these past years, but it hadn’t. In fact, with every passing year, her disappointment grew. She realized that she’d never feel that Fairview, Massachusetts, was her home. It had been once, before she and her parents, older brother, and younger sister had traveled west to Texas when she was eight years old to make a new life for themselves. Yet being here alone without her family only made her sadder.

The two friends stood together at the end of the veranda, peering down into the street below. She’d been so very happy there until, a week away from her eighteenth birthday, she and her family were exposed to a wave of smallpox that swept through the region. She’d been the only member of her family to survive its wrath but had been left with a permanent reminder of the tragedy. A swath of pockmarked scars on her left cheek and jaw proved it every time she looked into a mirror.

“What’s on your mind?” Maybelle queried softly. “You’ve been brooding for the past couple of days now.”

She turned to her friend in the semi-darkness, her face only faintly illuminated by the new electric lights set close to the exterior stone block wall. She should have known it would be futile to try to keep her thoughts and feelings hidden from her best friend. If anyone knew how difficult these past few years had been for her, it was Maybelle.

She turned to lean against the stone railing as she looked up at the edifice of the Old Boston Music Hall. She felt Maybelle’s light touch of fingers on her forearm and turned away from the house to glance at her friend’s commiserating smile.

“You know this gathering is raising funds for St. Bartholomew orphanage, don’t you?”

Elsie sighed and turned to gaze back at the lovely structure. “Yes. And it is a good cause. But Aunt Agatha came right out and said last night that she had ulterior motives for coming tonight.” She turned to her friend with a frown. “She said that if I gave it a chance, I might meet someone here I would take an interest in.” She gave an unladylike snort. “She also said she wasn’t going to give up helping me find a suitor.” 

“She said that?”

“Yes.” Elsie nodded. “And as you can see, they’re not exactly banging down the door.”

Maybelle scoffed. “That’s because they don’t have the brains in their heads to see you the way I do.”

It was nice of Maybelle to say, but she knew the real reason. Even if her aunt did manage to find a good, young, and honorable man willing to look past her scarred face and marry her, she knew deep inside that she would never be happy in Boston and its bustle. 

 “Have you received any more letters from that man?” Maybelle asked.

The most recent letter Elsie had received was currently tucked into the inside cover of her Bible on her bedside table. She hadn’t even had a chance to read it yet, as it had arrived not an hour before she and her aunt had been leaving for the gathering.

Elsie smiled and glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. Despite her many disappointments over the past months, she couldn’t help but smile, her face suffused with warmth. “They’re from a rancher named Wyatt Langford. His family owns a ranch not too far from Cedar Bluff, where I lived for so many happy years.”

Maybelle grinned. “How many does that make?”

“Four.” She was secretly pleased, yet at the same time exceptionally nervous and uncertain. In describing herself to the man who had replied to her ad, she had neglected to mention the smallpox scars on her left cheek and jaw, the very same scars that reminded her every time she saw them of her devastating losses. Her family. Her home. Her life. 

“Your aunt still doesn’t know that you put an ad in the mail-order bride catalog two months ago?”

Elsie slowly shook her head. She couldn’t deny feeling guilty about that, but she so desperately wanted to go back home to Texas that she had been willing to do the unthinkable. 

“She’s going to be sad when you go,” Maybelle remarked. “So will I.”

Elsie turned to her friend, a rush of emotion prompting her to swallow the thick lump in her throat. She blinked back warm tears that filled her eyes, making everything outside look blurry. “I’m going to miss you, too, Maybelle, more than you can ever know. You’re friendship has been a godsend.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to go through with this?”

She nodded. Her resolve returned. “I have to, Maybelle. I know you might not understand, but I’m willing to take a chance that some stranger looking for a wife can at least offer me something that I’ve been yearning for five long years. Someone to take me back home to Texas.” She tried not to think beyond that, nor of the risks that her impetuous decision might bring.

“I really didn’t expect you to take me seriously about the mail-order bride service,” Maybelle murmured, peering off into the well-manicured garden of rosebushes beyond the veranda.

“And I remember being completely caught off guard by the suggestion, but I think it’s the only way I can go.” Truthfully, she had been appalled at first, but the idea had slowly grown on her, even though she knew that the chances of finding a husband in the very town that she had spent so many wonderful years in were extremely slim.

“I was willing to compromise, to settle down in a town within traveling distance of Cedar Bluff, hoping that my future husband would probably allow me to visit the town on occasion to … well, to say goodbye and visit their graves …”

Suddenly, she paused, frowning into the distance.

“What’s wrong?”

She glanced at Maybelle. “Something just struck me.” She shook her head, stunned. I can’t believe that I didn’t make the connection sooner.”

“What?” Maybelle asked, growing alarmed.

“I need to go home,” Elsie said. She turned to leave the veranda, but Maybelle stopped her. 

 “Wait, Elsie. What’s wrong? Tell me.”

Elsie turned to her friend, her heart beating faster now, as disbelief and amazement vied for her attention. Was it even possible? Lord, is this some kind of a trick? Is this some kind of a lesson that I’m supposed to learn?

“Those letters,” she said softly. “A Mister Wyatt Langford writes them.”

“And?”

She shook her head and gave a half laugh. “I was wondering why that name tickled my brain so, but I didn’t put it together before now. I think I remember him—”

“You know Wyatt Langford?” Maybelle asked with disbelief.

“No, not personally, but I do remember hearing about the Langfords when I lived there. I was small, though, and didn’t pay much attention. There was talk about the patriarch … what was his name … I can’t remember.”

“Elsie, what are you talking about?”

“The family … wait, I remember! The old man. His name was Silas.” She paused, searching her brain to remember. “I didn’t see him very often, but I heard stories.”

“Stories?” Maybelle grasped her arm, eyes wide. “What kind of stories? Elsie, if—”

“What I remember is that he was always going off on some kind of treasure hunt in Hill Country, or sometimes he went—”

“Wait,” Maybelle interrupted. “What’s Hill Country?”

“It’s a part of central and south Texas,” she replied idly, her mind searching for memories. “It’s a very remote and rugged region.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, all I remember about it really is that the area is prone to flash floods. It’s also got a lot of caverns, caves, and rivers. Sometimes the rivers just crop up after a large rainstorm and then disappear.”

“So Silas Langford was a treasure hunter? What kind of treasure? Did he make a living at it?”

Elsie shook her head. “No, and that’s just it.” The more she searched her mind, the more tidbits she remembered. “He had a family, I know that, and he had a large ranch, a profitable one, but he had the wanderlust and was always looking for treasure or gold.”

“Where do you find treasure in that part of the country?”

Elsie turned to her friend. “I have no idea. But there were stories of Spanish explorers roaming the area a couple of hundred years ago. Rumor has it they were carrying gold and had gold-plated weapons and armor, but I’m not sure if I believe that.”

“That’s crazy.”

Elsie shrugged. “I guess it depends on your point of view.” “She paused. “I remember  that a few rumors began to spread in town that he had abandoned his family and his ranch.”

“Langford,” Maybelle murmured. Her eyes widened. “Is this man you’ve been writing to, Wyatt Langford, one of his sons?”

Elsie shook her head. “No, but if I’ve got the right family, he would be a grandson.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Elsie sighed. “I’m not sure.” She thought about keeping what she remembered hearing to herself. After all, rumors were often far from the truth. She very vaguely recalled several young Langfords from her school days, the grandsons, but couldn’t remember what they looked like. Which one was Wyatt? Did he remember her? Would she even recognize him now, all these years later?

She’d never lied to her friend, and she wasn’t about to start now. “I don’t know why I didn’t make the connection earlier.” She couldn’t help feeling a sense of disappointment. Still, returning to Texas was of primary importance to her. There she might find once again her peace of mind and her sense of place. One thing she knew for certain. She wouldn’t find it here in Massachusetts.

 “What connection?”

“His connection to his treasure-hunting grandfather.” She paused. “And a stipulation he mentioned in his last letter regarding his thoughts on marriage.”

Maybelle turned to her, giving her full attention as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t like the sound of that,” she murmured. “A man responds to an ad in a mail-order bride catalog to get married. What stipulation?”

“He wasn’t … well, at least he’s not keeping it a secret from me.”

Maybelle huffed with impatience. “Now you have me worried, Elsie. Stipulations? Secrets? What is it?”

“In his last letter, he mentioned that he was looking for a marriage of convenience—”

“What?” Maybelle exclaimed. “A marriage of convenience?”

Elsie nodded. “That’s right.”

“But you can’t marry a man like that!” Maybelle shook her head. “You can’t, Elsie!”

Elsie shrugged. “Perhaps it’s the only way I’ll ever find a husband,” she murmured. She frowned. 

Maybelle didn’t say anything for several moments. “Elsie, what are you thinking?”

Now was Elsie’s turn to consider. “What I’m thinking is that I know I want to go back.” She looked at her friend and reached out to take her hand. “Oh, you know I’ll miss you terribly, but I have this ache in my heart, this hole, and it’s been there ever since I left Texas.”

Maybelle sighed. “I know that, Elsie. I know that you’ve wanted to go back home for a very long time, to visit your family’s graves and say your goodbyes, to maybe close that chapter of your life and start a new one, but please, think very carefully about attaching yourself to a man who only wants a marriage in name only.”

A marriage of convenience. It sounded so dry, so sterile, but at the same time, it filled Elsie with a bit of relief. She didn’t know exactly why Wyatt Langford was looking for a wife, at least in name only, but she knew why she was looking for a husband. She knew that she could never be truly happy here, and she missed the life her family had built for themselves. She missed the wide-open spaces. She missed the lack of people. She missed the freedom of her former ranch life. 

“Well, I think we both know that your heart has always been in Texas,” Maybelle reluctantly agreed. “But to marry a man you don’t know—”

“Isn’t that the purpose of a mail-order bride ad?” Elsie broke in.

Maybelle looked away, chagrined. “I know, but now it seems so real. But you barely remember the boy, let alone the man.” She paused. “You never heard anything bad about the man while he lived there, right?”

Elsie thought back. She’d left Texas at eighteen. She vaguely recalled the Langford boys. She’d never been friends with them nor likely spoken more than a greeting to them in town. But despite being frightened of going through with her idea, her desire to return to Texas overpowered all else.

“No, I didn’t,” she admitted. “And besides, I was so young, and it’s been five years since …”

“Do you know if he’s close to your own age?”

Elsie shrugged again. “Yes, we’re both twenty-three, so he’s at least not in his forties or fifties, like a couple of those so-called eligible bachelors or widowers my aunt has suggested to me.” 

Maybelle heaved a sigh and hugged her friend. “I don’t want you to leave, Elsie, you know that. But I’m being selfish. You’ve been a dear friend.” She released her and stood back, her hands on Elsie’s shoulders. “But I want you to be happy.”

Elsie felt a heaviness in her heart at the thought of leaving her best friend. Yet she also knew that this was something she had to do. She prayed that she would find the peace and happiness for which she’d yearned for so long and believed with all her heart that she would only find it if she went back home. To Texas.

“Then I’ll be brave and support you,” Maybelle said softly. “So if you believe that you’ll find what you’re looking for in Texas, you need to find a way to return to the place that you hold so dear in your heart, a place that you’ve never truly left in mind or spirit, to find what it is that you’re looking for.” 

Elsie turned to her friend, a gentle smile spreading across her lips. “I don’t even know exactly what I’m looking for, Maybelle, but I do need and want to go back. Still, it won’t be exactly home,” she admitted. “The Langford ranch, if I recall correctly, is quite a way outside of Cedar Bluff, but it’s within traveling distance.” 

Still, to become a mail-order bride. It was a daunting endeavor, yet despite her hesitance to do something quite so daring, she also felt compelled. She had to find out for herself whether going back home would bring her the peace of spirit for which she longed. Still, she had to brace herself. When Wyatt saw her, he might send her back where she came from—

“I know what you’re thinking,” Maybelle said. “You’re thinking that once this man takes one look at you, he’s going to send you back, aren’t you?”

Elsie nodded.

“Well, here’s the way I see it. If you go there and find what you’re looking for, it was meant to be, and God directed you there. If you don’t find what you’re looking for deep in your heart, well, I think that will be God’s will as well. And if you need to, you send me a telegram, and I’ll send you money to come back to Fairview just as soon as you can get on a train.”

So, just like that, the decision was made. She was going to Texas. She was going home.