Joe nodded vigorously, “You bet. I’d end up in jail if I shared even a bit of one with someone besides the sender or the recipient. You expecting one or wanting to send one?”
“Send.”
Joe nodded and handed Clay a blank form. “Fill this out, and I’ll send it right off.”
Clay stared at the blank form for a moment and then wrote:
Mason Callen
Quincy Hotel
Chicago, Illinois
Urgent STOP Need to marry immediately STOP Arrange proxy marriage STOP Respectable woman your choice STOP Grandfather dying STOP Insists I marry STOP Inheritance contingent on marriage STOP
Clay Hutchison
Prairieville Wyoming
Clay handed the form back to Joe, and Joe lifted his eyebrows but didn’t say a word. Clay paid for his telegram and heard the key clicking away as he left the office. He knew his telegram would reach Mason long before Wade’s ad would publish in the paper and knew he had the advantage. He knew the judge’s concern about life being long with the wrong woman wouldn’t be a concern. Mason knew him better than anyone and would find him the perfect bride.
He placed his left foot into his horse’s stirrup and pulled himself onto his horse noticing that Wade’s horse still tied outside the saloon. Wade would be on his fourth or fifth whiskey by now and never know that Clay came to town much less that he had sent for a bride.
Chapter Three
Chicago - Quincy Hotel
Mason Callen sat behind the large oak desk in the office of the hotel manager working on the accounting books when a knock on the door drew his attention away from his work. He lifted his head, “Yes?”
The lanky teenage boy stood erect holding the yellow sheet out in front of him. “Mr. Callen, I have a telegram for you, sir.”
“Thank you,” Mason answered reaching for the telegram and quickly perusing it.
“Is there an answer, sir?”
“No,” Mason replied handing the teen a coin. “I’ll send an answer later.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy tipped his hat and left Mason staring at the telegram in his hand.
“A bride. Clay needs a bride immediately?” He leaned back in his chair and thought about the request. Did he know anyone that might meet Clay’s requirements? His mind wandered through the young women of his acquaintance and set on Grace Slater, the newest waitress in the hotel’s dining room. They attend the same church, and she seemed to meet Clay’s needs. Grace was smart, articulate, hardworking, respectable, came from a good family, and beautiful to boot. He nodded his head slowly as he counted off Grace’s qualities. Yes, she was perfect, but could he convince her to marry someone sight unseen and travel to Wyoming? He heard some gossip among the workers that her life had been difficult since her father died. Maybe she was a perfect choice.
Mason pushed away from his desk and walked out into the lobby. He found the desk clerk staring off into the distance. He cleared his throat, and the young man jumped. “Yes, Mr. Callen, can I help you?”
“Yes, ask Miss Slater to step into the office once the lunch rush is over, will you?” Mason turned to walk back to his office without waiting for an answer, his own mind lost in thought on how to approach Miss Slater with his proposal of sorts.
Thirty minutes later, Grace Slater, wearing her dark blue dress and crisp white waitress apron, entered the manager’s office wondering what she had done to be summoned by the hotel’s accountant. Little did she know the meeting would change her life.
“Good afternoon, Miss Slater, please sit down.”
Good afternoon, Mr. Callen. Have I done something wrong?” Grace asked as she slowly took a seat in the chair opposite the desk.
Mason help up his hands, “No, no, nothing at all. I have something of a personal nature to discuss with you, and I’m not sure where to start.”
Grace leaned slightly forward saying, “Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”
“It concerns marriage.”
“You want to marry me,” Grace gasped.
“No, not me, my best friend Clay Hutchison,” Mason stammered.
Grace squinted. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Let’s start over, and I’ll explain. I’m from a small Wyoming town. My parents own the ranch just north of the Hutchison ranch. Clay and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember. His parents died when we were teens, and his grandfather raised him and his brother, Wade. I received a telegram today telling me his grandfather is dying.”
Grace’s hand flew to her mouth, “I’m so sorry to hear that, but how does that concern me?”
“Let me finish, I think you’ll understand. His grandfather wishes Clay, and I assume Wade to marry before he dies. Clay said his inheritance is contingent on his marrying quickly before his grandfather passes. He asked me to arrange a proxy marriage so he will be a married man immediately, and I will then escort his bride to Wyoming.” He leaned back in his chair hoping he explained everything well enough.
Grace stared straight at Mason without blinking. “You want me to marry your friend?”
“Well, yes. We attend the same church, and I assume you are a good God-fearing woman from the way you act in church. Here at work, you are polite and hard working. I regret to say I have heard a bit of gossip that you are unhappy at home for whatever reason and I thought you would make a good match for Clay. He is one of the finest men I know.”
Grace nodded, “Let me put the gossip to rest, and you can decide if I am still the lady you want your friend to marry. My father was a well-respected teacher, and we enjoyed a comfortable
