Romance: Western Mail Order Bride "Bethany's Love"-Clean Christian Historical Romance (Western Mail Order Bride Short Shorties Series) Read Online Free Page B
would marry her. She knew how the men here saw her: a poor widow with children to raise.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw worry lines on her forehead, but apart from that she was still as pretty as she used to be when life had been good. Her raven black hair tumbled down in waves to her waist; her pale blue eyes the color of the sky. She had prominent cheekbones and a small nose. Her lips were red and swollen from biting them, a nervous habit she had gotten into recently.
She knew how men looked at her. She was only twenty-five, not an old widow. Some would introduce themselves to her but would hesitate after learning she had three kids and a dead husband. None of these men understood the circumstances surrounding her. They would rather judge her than acknowledge that she was bringing up her kids alone, working in a factory that didn’t pay her enough to survive.
A knock on her door brought her attention back to the present. She went to open the door and was surprised to see Isabelle standing there.
“How are you, my dear?” She asked watching her face closely. Bethany stepped away allowing her to come inside.
“I’m fine,” Bethany replied in a small voice.
“I know you’re not.”
Bethany squirmed under her gaze. They had become friends, sort of, since that day she asked for her help. Isabelle was too kind to her. Looking out for her in the factory and giving her food even when she had not asked for it.
“How did you know where I live?”
Isabelle strutted into the living room, taking off her bonnet. There was a newspaper in her hand.
“I asked around. But there’s a more important question you should be asking.” She waved the newspaper in front of her eyes and sat down on the sofa.
“What do you mean? What am I supposed to do with a newspaper?”
“Oh silly, you’re supposed to be reading it. Remember when you told me a month ago you thought you should marry, that it would solve all your problems. Well I’ve found just the thing right here.”
“You mean the mail order bride ads?” Bethany asked making a funny face.
“Come on! You can’t judge these men without knowing who they are. Someone here could be the one for you.”
“Even if someone is I don’t think they’d want to marry me.”
“Don’t say that. Not every man is the same, my dear. There must be someone here who would accept you as you are, with your children.” Isabelle unfolded the newspaper and handed it to Bethany. “Read them and tell me which one you like. I’ll help you write a reply.”
Looking down at the ads section, she started to read. There were a few widowers looking for wives and a few bachelors as well. Her eyes paused at one of the listings.
Matthew Russell, Age 27, Oregon
I’m seeking to marry a woman of beautiful strength and character, someone who is responsible, someone who can be happy living on a peaceful farm with me. I’m what you could call a pioneer who just moved to the West. If you wish to get to know me you can write to me at my given address below.
P.S: I’ll be giving away a hundred bucks to the woman I find is the one for me.
This man is the one, she thought. It would be nice living far away from this place. And she needed the money. But time was running out and she had no idea when he would marry her or how long the journey would take to Oregon, or if he would even reply to her. Looking over at Isabelle, she said, “I have found someone named Matthew but he lives in Oregon. That is quite far away. If I write to him and he shows an interest in me, I don’t think I would be able to escape Richie and the money I owe him before I can convince Matthew.”
“Beth, darling, be patient. You have a hundred dollars saved already. Talk to Mr. Fitch and he’ll let you pay in installments.” Looking at the ad, she exclaimed, “Well well, Matthew sure sounds like some cowboy. And he’s giving away money! If he marries you, you can pay back Richie with that, considering Richie
Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw worry lines on her forehead, but apart from that she was still as pretty as she used to be when life had been good. Her raven black hair tumbled down in waves to her waist; her pale blue eyes the color of the sky. She had prominent cheekbones and a small nose. Her lips were red and swollen from biting them, a nervous habit she had gotten into recently.
She knew how men looked at her. She was only twenty-five, not an old widow. Some would introduce themselves to her but would hesitate after learning she had three kids and a dead husband. None of these men understood the circumstances surrounding her. They would rather judge her than acknowledge that she was bringing up her kids alone, working in a factory that didn’t pay her enough to survive.
A knock on her door brought her attention back to the present. She went to open the door and was surprised to see Isabelle standing there.
“How are you, my dear?” She asked watching her face closely. Bethany stepped away allowing her to come inside.
“I’m fine,” Bethany replied in a small voice.
“I know you’re not.”
Bethany squirmed under her gaze. They had become friends, sort of, since that day she asked for her help. Isabelle was too kind to her. Looking out for her in the factory and giving her food even when she had not asked for it.
“How did you know where I live?”
Isabelle strutted into the living room, taking off her bonnet. There was a newspaper in her hand.
“I asked around. But there’s a more important question you should be asking.” She waved the newspaper in front of her eyes and sat down on the sofa.
“What do you mean? What am I supposed to do with a newspaper?”
“Oh silly, you’re supposed to be reading it. Remember when you told me a month ago you thought you should marry, that it would solve all your problems. Well I’ve found just the thing right here.”
“You mean the mail order bride ads?” Bethany asked making a funny face.
“Come on! You can’t judge these men without knowing who they are. Someone here could be the one for you.”
“Even if someone is I don’t think they’d want to marry me.”
“Don’t say that. Not every man is the same, my dear. There must be someone here who would accept you as you are, with your children.” Isabelle unfolded the newspaper and handed it to Bethany. “Read them and tell me which one you like. I’ll help you write a reply.”
Looking down at the ads section, she started to read. There were a few widowers looking for wives and a few bachelors as well. Her eyes paused at one of the listings.
Matthew Russell, Age 27, Oregon
I’m seeking to marry a woman of beautiful strength and character, someone who is responsible, someone who can be happy living on a peaceful farm with me. I’m what you could call a pioneer who just moved to the West. If you wish to get to know me you can write to me at my given address below.
P.S: I’ll be giving away a hundred bucks to the woman I find is the one for me.
This man is the one, she thought. It would be nice living far away from this place. And she needed the money. But time was running out and she had no idea when he would marry her or how long the journey would take to Oregon, or if he would even reply to her. Looking over at Isabelle, she said, “I have found someone named Matthew but he lives in Oregon. That is quite far away. If I write to him and he shows an interest in me, I don’t think I would be able to escape Richie and the money I owe him before I can convince Matthew.”
“Beth, darling, be patient. You have a hundred dollars saved already. Talk to Mr. Fitch and he’ll let you pay in installments.” Looking at the ad, she exclaimed, “Well well, Matthew sure sounds like some cowboy. And he’s giving away money! If he marries you, you can pay back Richie with that, considering Richie
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