“I’m sorry to hear about your mother. It must have been difficult being a young girl without a mother,” Mason said.
“Yes, it was, but father was a kind and loving man. He did his best to make me happy. He bought a bookstore, and we worked together after school. I loved the books. He died six months ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Grace’s mouth gave a hint of a smile, “Thank you. His death was not unexpected, but the doctor thought he had another year maybe two, but his heart gave out. Of course, my brother inherited everything. It was my father’s wish that the bookstore remained in the family and that I continue to work there. There is an apartment above the store, and I was to live there. My sister-in-law is a bit of a shrew if you will excuse my being blunt. She insisted they could use the money from the sale of the bookstore and I could live with them and help with her four children.”
Mason’s scowl nearly made Grace laugh, “Four? That is a houseful.”
“Yes, and another on the way. I am their cook, maid, and nanny when I am not working here. Unbeknownst to my brother and sister-in-law, my father set aside an inheritance for me. I will receive a modest monthly allowance when I turn twenty-one in three months. Between my job here and the allowance, I will be able to leave my brother’s home.”
“I see,” Mason answered. He steepled his fingers and leaned on his desk. “Then you would have no interest in marrying and leaving Chicago?”
“On the contrary,” Grace replied. “When I was first forced to live at my brother’s and become basically unpaid help, I considered running away and answering an ad for a mail-order bride. Fearing that I could end up in a worse situation, I decided against it. You are well-respected here at work and at church. I believe you when you say your friend is an honorable man. If he is not, I will have an allowance in three months and can go anywhere I wish. Yes, Mr. Callen, I will marry your friend and accompany you to Wyoming. How soon can we leave? Each day at my brother’s home is worse than the previous day.”
“As soon as I can make the arrangements. I must send Clay a telegram with your information, find a judge here who understands these things and set the wheels in motion. I doubt a preacher would agree to this, but Clay does attend church, and I am sure you can repeat your vows in church when we arrive. Also, all your expenses will be met, and I can give you some money for traveling clothes if you need them.” Mason stood and reached out his hand. “Thank you, Miss Slater. Oh, may I have your full name?”
Grace returned his handshake and gave him a broad smile. “Of course. Grace Louise Slater. Please let me know of the plans, and I will be ready. Thank you, sir.”
Mason watched her leave the office to return to the dining room thinking that was easier than he had imagined. Now, it was time to contact Clay with the good news. He strode across the room, grabbed his hat, and headed for the telegraph office.
Clay Hutchison
Hutchison Ranch
Prairieville Wyoming Territory
Request accomplished STOP Send details for marriage STOP Name Grace Louise Slater STOP Will accompany her back to Wyoming immediately after wedding STOP
Mason Callen
Quincy Hotel
Chicago, Illinois
Mason took a deep breath hoping this idea of Clay’s would go off without a problem. If Clay’s inheritance depends on his marriage, does that also apply to Wade? If so, why is Clay in such a hurry? Why not just send for a mail-order bride? If he was in a contest with Wade, then Mason knew he needed to warn Miss Slater that Wade Hutchison is not the type of man to trifle with. Perhaps she should keep her distance from Wade once they arrived at the ranch. He would wait until they were on the stage between Cheyenne and Prairieville to confide any concerns. No sense in frightening her needlessly.
Chapter Four
Hutchison Ranch - Wyoming Territory
Cora finished setting lunch on the table for Wade and Clay when a knock sounded at the front door. “I’ll get it, boys. You eat your lunch.” She returned in a few minutes with a telegram in her hand. “For you, Clay.”
Wade tried to take the telegram from Clay’s hands. “Who would send you a telegram. Are you sure it isn’t for me?”
“Back off Wade, it’s addressed to me.” A broad smile crossed his face when he read Mason’s telegram. “Mason Callen is coming home. He finished school and will arrive in a few weeks.”
“Who cares,” grumbled Wade while stuffing the last of his bread into his mouth.
“I do,” Clay insisted. “I have to go into town, Cora. Let grandpa know when he wakes up. I’ll be back soon.” He rushed out of the house before Cora or Wade could question him.
Two hours later, Clay rode home whistling. Judge Clancy had all the paperwork finished, Clay sent another telegram to Mason, and hoped everything would work out without a hitch.
Ten days later
Clay woke up smiling. The stage from Cheyenne was expected in at ten, and his bride and Mason would arrive baring any trouble along the way. Mason’s last telegram stated
