A Bride for Cameron Read online

  A Bride for Cameron

  By Barbara Goss

  Copyright © 2021 Barbara Goss

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by V. McKevitt

  Editor: Elise Sherman Abram

  Poem by: Ron Gale

  All Scripture is quoted from the King James version of the Holy Bible.

  All the characters described in this story are fictional. They are not based on any real persons, past or present. Any resemblance to real persons, living or deceased, is coincidental and unintended.

  Decisive moments to deceive, but suddenly he can conceive, and puts his spirit in the fold, and lets the Good Lord take ahold. By Ron Gale

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Hunter’s Grove, Kansas, 1870

  Judge Mitchell Banner pounded the gavel on his desk. Silence permeated the room quickly; so much so that Attorney Cameron Hart, thought he could hear his heart beating. It had been a rougher case than usual. He was defending Charles Wilson, an alleged murderer, though in his heart, he had an inkling the man was likely guilty. The judge cleared his throat and took the piece of paper from the bailiff.

  Aside from muffled coughs and the sounds of rustling clothing, the courtroom was still, awaiting the verdict. The windows were open, and Cam was thankful for the early morning breeze that ruffled his dark hair. He swallowed hard. Could he live with either verdict?

  Usually, his clients were innocent, and he loved throwing out all of his evidence to prove it, but this time he’d had to work hard to convince the jury there was reasonable doubt. The prosecution claimed that Charles Wilson had killed his wife’s lover with an ax. They maintained that Wilson had come home from a trip early to find Silas Monroe in the bedroom with his wife. Cam had to prove that Monroe had been dead before Wilson had come upon the scene. He tried to suggest that Mrs. Wilson or Mrs. Monroe had axed the man.

  Both women denied killing Monroe, but that was natural. If he lost the case, it would be his first. If he won, a suspected murderer would go free. His partner from the firm, Joe Simmons, wouldn’t be happy since he’d warned him about taking the case. Cameron had wanted a challenge, and he’d gotten it.

  The prosecuting attorney, Roger O’Brian, had been somewhat lax, almost as if he hadn't wanted to win the case. Cam had based his case on the time the stagecoach had brought Wilson home from Topeka. He’d argued that it hadn't given Charles the time to walk from the stage stop to his home a mile and a half away. Cam knew that when people in Hunter’s Grove saw anyone walking, especially carrying a suitcase, they’d offer a ride. However, no one had come forward to say they had.

  The judge frowned at the paper the jury's foreman had handed him. Cam wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not.

  “Charles Wilson,” the judge called, “please stand.”

  Wilson gave Cam a frightened look. The man had never openly admitted he’d axed Monroe, but Cam figured he must have. He doubted Mrs. Wilson or Mrs. Monroe could have caused the severe wound found on the dead man.

  The judge looked at Wilson and said, “The jury has found you innocent of killing Silas Monroe. You’re free to leave of your own free will.”

  The room erupted into murmurs. Some expressed happiness, and some sounded cheated.

  The sheriff stepped up to escort Wilson from the courtroom.

  Cam swallowed hard again. Had he done the right thing? Had he freed a guilty man? He kept trying to tell himself that he had done the job Wilson had paid him to do.

  He packed up his satchel and headed for the door. His friend and partner, Joe Simmons, called him back from leaving the courtroom.

  “Yes, Joe?” Cam said as he approached.

  Joe whispered, “Might I have a word with you? I’ll buy you coffee at Parker’s in an hour.”

  Cam sipped his hot coffee and waited to hear what Joe had to say. They’d been friends since Cam had graduated from the University at Lawrence, Kansas, and had moved to Hunter’s Grove. Joe had invited Cameron into the firm, and their friendship had never interfered with their law partnership.

  “Fine job you did on the Wilson case, but now we’ll never know who killed poor Silas Monroe.”

  Cameron smiled. “The prosecutor had a weak case.”

  Simmons shook his head vehemently. “No, no...you did an expert job.” He studied Cameron while stroking his beard. “I hear there is a Senate seat opening up in our district. I think you should consider running.”

  Cam nearly choked on his coffee. “Me? A senator?”

  “We need someone like you to represent us. I think you’d be fantastic, and I know you’re tiring of getting gunslingers off on misdemeanor charges. You’d make four times what you do now, and think of the distinction.”

  Cam swirled what remained of the coffee in his cup. “Do you think I’d have a chance?”

  “Right now? No, but the seat won’t open until next fall. You have about eighteen months to prepare.”

  “Prepare?” Cam wondered what he'd meant.

  “You need a wife and a family,” Simmons whispered. “I hadn’t thought of it until now, but to get elected, you’ll need a family. Have you any at all in these parts?”

  Cam shrugged. “My mother died shortly after I was born. My father remarried and moved to Wyoming. I don’t hear from him at all, and he was never a part of my life. My mother’s older sister reared me in Toledo, Ohio, but she died two years ago. My father sent my aunt money each month, but Aunt Mary didn’t need his money, so she saved it for me. It paid for my college and law school, so I guess I owe my father something.”

  Simmons waved the server over and pointed at their empty cups. Joe Simmons said, “If you could produce a family somehow, I think you’d have an excellent chance to beat Sam Ketchum. He’s been in office for six years and hasn’t done a thing for our district. The people resent him.”

  While Joe Simmons talked, the waiter filled their cups.

  Cam envisioned becoming a senator. He loved the idea, but where would he find a family? “Why is a family so important? Does Ketchum have one?”

  “He does! Judge Banner married Ketchum and his wife twenty years ago, and they have two teenage sons.” Simmons said. “It’s important because people are more apt to trust a family man.”

  “I see,” Cam said, staring into his cup. “Just between us, I’ll find a way to produce a wife and children by election time.”

  Joe Simmons set his cup down on the table with more force than usual. “You’d best get busy, then.”

  Cam had a lot to think about as he crossed the street to the barber’s shop for a haircut. As he sat waiting for his turn, he picked up a newspaper. It was a month old. He prepared to toss it aside, but the headline at the top of the page stopped him. It wasn’t the Star and Bugle—it was thinner and filled with ads. The Matrimonial News was the title at the top of the page, and beneath it, more ads than he’d ever seen in a newspaper. Ads for matrimonial partners.

  He folded the paper and put it into his pocket. He’d digest it at home.

  After reading a good number of ads, all from men seeking wives, Cam decided that was how he’d get a bride. He was hopeful
of finding a widow with children somehow.

  It took him an hour to compose his ad: A gentleman of the first respectability would like to open a correspondence with a lady of the same character with a view to matrimony. She must be intelligent, refined, and of prepossessing appearance; age not under twenty-one. Any lady answering the above requirements will bestow a favor on the undersigned by addressing him in sincerity. A widow with children welcome. Address HART, Box No. 160, Hunter’s Grove, Kansas.

  When he was done, all Cam had to do was wait.

  Chicago, Illinois.

  Hannah Crossland stormed out of the school superintendent’s office. Her head felt like it would explode. She’d wanted to tell that old buffoon a thing or two, but good breeding prevented her from doing that. As she walked home, tears of anger and frustration flowed from her eyes. It wasn’t fair.

  Upon entering her family's old Victorian home, she wiped her eyes and wished her mother were there. If Molly Crossland were still alive, her arms would be open for her.

  A freak accident had killed her parents when their buggy had hit a bridge abutment on an icy road five years earlier. She had a brother who was studying at Cambridge, so she had no one to tell what had happened that day.

  She kicked off her shoes, sat on the settee, and her tears flowed like a waterfall once she'd settled herself comfortably. Everything about the house exuded warmth and love, yet she felt none of it. She felt lonely and worried. She’d just lost her teaching job. There was no one to console her, help her decide how she’d pay the back taxes on the house, or find another job.

  Peter Stratford, the school district's superintendent, had told her that her students would merge from the small schoolhouse to the new larger building, and her services would no longer be necessary. She’d been teaching for three years and had loved every minute.

  Hannah pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face. Now, she’d lose the house and all the familiar furnishings, and her past life would disappear. Teaching was all she knew. What made her even angrier was that all the male teachers had been kept on.

  What could a single woman do in a world dominated by men? She thought she was a strong person, but she felt helpless instead.

  After several restless nights with little sleep, Hannah dressed, grabbed a heel of bread, and headed out to find a job.

  Her family had been well-to-do at the time of their deaths, and their home was worth a lot of money, yet she owed so much in back taxes, and she was drowning in bills. She doubted she’d get much ahead by selling it, but she’d have to try. Though she’d loved her teaching job, the men teachers made twice what she’d been paid, and she’d been struggling financially for the past few years.

  Perhaps if she found another job she could sell the house and get a small flat somewhere. She thought about contacting her brother, William, but he was studying in England, and she couldn’t drag him out of college—he was studying to become a doctor. She’d have to figure out the problem alone. She and William had never been close since she was twelve years older than him. For her, even marriage was out of the question since she was an old maid of twenty-nine, soon to be thirty.

  Hannah had always loved learning and books, and her first stop that morning was to the local bookstore. Perhaps they could use an educated person to sell books.

  She opened the door, and the familiar smell of old book covers and pages welcomed her. She smiled. It was a lovely smell. She’d love to work there.

  The store owner crushed her hopes when he told her they weren’t hiring, but she nodded and browsed around the store anyway. On her way back to the front door, she touched a few books as if they were intimate friends. She picked up a book she’d recently read and hugged it, but as she did, a newspaper fell to the floor. She hadn’t realized the book had been sitting beside the thin newspaper.

  When she bent to pick it up, she saw the ads. That was exactly what she needed: help-wanted ads. She turned, promptly paid for the paper, and walked the short distance home with it under her arm.

  Once home, she put the kettle on for tea, steeped it, and sat at the kitchen table, blowing lightly on the hot tea. She opened the newspaper and scanned it, but something didn't seem right. They weren’t job ads—they were matchmaking ads!

  She shrugged, sipped her hot tea, and read them, promising herself to go out into the street to buy a proper newspaper after she'd drunk her tea.

  The ads were quite amusing. One, in particular, made her laugh: Chance for a Spinster—A young man in Creekview, Montana is seeking a wife. I am eighteen, with all my teeth, and have several acres of land. I have ten pigs, fourteen calves, and a decent farmhouse. I need a woman to cook, clean, and help on the farm. No good offer refused. Sonny Howard, Box 121.

  Hannah sipped her tea and flipped the newspaper over. A large, framed ad caught her eye from HART, Box No. 160, Hunter’s Grove, Kansas.

  Something about the ad stirred Hannah. The gentleman had written the ad in such a way that she knew he was highly educated and definitely refined, but would she fit his qualifications?

  Chapter Two

  Hannah wrote to the man at box number 160 in Hunter’s Grove, Kansas. She even took a walk to the library to see where Hunter’s Grove was on the map. It was almost in the center of Kansas. That was a long way from Chicago.

  Cameron Hart wrote letters that were so perfect that Hannah wondered if he might be a teacher, too. His second letter told her he was an attorney, which impressed Hannah. Despite the formal wording of his letters, she sensed he was trying hard to sound personal. He hadn’t pulled it off yet, and Hannah began reading ads from the matrimonial newspaper again. Perhaps she wasn’t right for Cameron Hart. He sounded high-brow. She wanted an educated man but not one who was more cultured than he was sincere. Still, his letters kept coming, and each one seemed warmer and more down to earth than the last. He also often sounded desperate to make a match.

  After about six letters, he suggested they exchange photographs. The only one Hannah had was three years old. In it, she was sitting on the back of a hay wagon with her friend, Edith. She wrote neatly on the back of the photo that she was the one on the right.

  Cameron’s next letter included a photo of him from a newspaper. He’d won a murder case. Hannah was impressed with his accomplishment and thought his looks pleasing, if a bit serious looking. His hair was dark, and he had a small, neatly trimmed mustache.

  In between letters, she made arrangements to sell the house and its furnishings. It broke her heart to part with objects that reminded her of her parents, but she vowed to keep the small things. As expected, the house sold for nearly what she owed in back taxes and bills.

  She packed her things, grabbing as many memories as she could, and moved into a small flat above a barber’s shop.

  She hadn’t heard from her brother, Will, in ages. She sat down and wrote him a letter, explaining what she had to do. His education was secure as her parents had a trust fund for him, which he drew on for his education. She gave him her new address and posted the letter.

  After six weeks of corresponding with Cameron, he finally asked her to become his wife. Now, she had to make a life-changing decision. She’d have to pray about it. One of the best things her parents had left her was a love for God and the Church. Despite all her woes, she knew God had a plan for her life. She just needed to decide if it was Cameron Hart or staying in Chicago to find work somewhere.

  Cam didn’t seem to get anywhere with his letters, so he took them to his partner. Joe Simmons would know what he was doing wrong. The picture Hannah had sent him gave him hope. She was lovely, and he wondered how she’d become a spinster. She’d told him she would turn thirty in November. Cameron was thirty-two, so their ages should make them more compatible. He felt as if a younger woman might be too giddy, and he needed a mature, sensible woman. Hannah was perfect.

  In the photo, it was hard to tell the color of her hair, but it looked to be somewhere between dark blonde or light brown. She
also had a beautiful smile. Hannah was perfect except that she had no children.

  Simmons read over the letter Cam planned to mail the next day and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Cam wanted to know.

  “This letter sounds like a legal brief. That’s not how to woo a woman. Soften it up.”

  Cam scratched his head. “Like how?”

  Simmons took his pen and started editing the letter. “Here, this is what a letter to a woman should look like.”

  Cam took the marked-up letter and read it. “She’ll like this?”

  “I think she will. You need to step out of your attorney’s shoes and put on the shoes of a man looking for a wife.”

  Cam shrugged. “I guess I was trying to impress her with my proficiency with words.”

  Simmons shook his head. “Look, you’re courting her with these letters. Make it sound like it.”

  “I think I get the idea. No wonder we weren’t getting anywhere. Thank you, my friend.”

  “You know you can’t marry her here in Hunter’s Grove, right?”

  “What do you mean? I have to. We’ll keep it low-key.”

  “No. If you want to pull this off, you have to be already married when she steps off the stagecoach. People cannot know you’ve just met.”

  “How will we marry, then?”

  “Maybe you could go to Chicago.”

  “I can’t do that. Do you know how long that would take? I’m in the middle of three cases right now.” Cam paced the floor. “How will I do this?”

  “I could set up a proxy marriage for you both,” Simmons said.

  Cam relaxed. “Proxy. Perfect. Good thinking.”

  “What about the children? How many does she have?”

  “She doesn’t have any.”

  Before Simmons could open his mouth any wider, Cam said, “But I’m getting some. I’m going to Hays to get two from the orphan train next week.” Cam hit his head with his hand. “Dagnabbit! I should have told her about them already, but I have no idea what to say about children I don’t already have.”