His Brother's Bride

George H. McVey

Contents

Untitled Document

His Brother’s Bride

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Epilogue

A word from George McVey

About the Author

His Quiet Nurturer Teaser

His Brother’s Bride

Copyright © 2017 by George McVey

Cover by Erin Damon Hill 2019

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote brief excerpts in a review. 

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or used fictitiously.

All Scriptures in this book are from the World English Bible which is in the public domain in every nation of the world and for the ease of reading.

This book was written by a human author, not an A.I. (Artificial Intelligence) This book cannot be used to train an A.I. (Artificial Intelligence) how to write a book.

Dedication

For my daughter Valerie. I watch you struggle and my heart hurts for you. You have become such a strong woman, a good mother, and a faithful friend. I’m glad to call you Daughter. Know to me you’ll always be Daddy’s Princess. With God’s help and the prayers of others, we will see you beat this.

One

Greg

“STAMPEED!”

Greg Williams looked up as the thousand head of cattle raced toward him, out of control. This was the third time on this cattle drive that something had spooked the herd. He yanked his looped bullwhip off the saddle horn and let it uncurl out beside him as he kicked his Mustang into an all-out run. He and several of the trail hands raced for the head of the herd. They’d work to gather them, cracking their whips, trying to turn the lead cow. If they could get it to turn, that would slow the herd down and they’d be able to get them to circle up.

That was the only way to calm a herd; once they circled in on themselves, they’d slow till they were calm, and then they could be driven again. If they couldn’t turn the lead cow, some cowboys, their horses, and some cows would die. That would upset the trail boss and cost them all wages.

It took about five miles, but the constant cracking of the bullwhips next to the lead animal’s head had finally done the trick. They were turning the now docile and slow-moving herd of Texas Longhorns back toward their destination of Dodge City. Just one more week and they’d bring the herd into town and collect their wages.

Greg was tired. He’d known it was coming to this point for a while. After years of riding the range and working cattle, he was ready to go home. Not to farm like his twin, but to get off the trail. Maybe he’d take his half of the farm and look into raising cattle, or horses, or both. But one thing was for certain; when they delivered this herd to Dodge, he was going to collect his wages and head for Sanctuary.

He was getting too old to be a temporary ranch hand. He owned land, so why not cowboy for himself and make more than a few hundred dollars for months of back-breaking work, sleeping on the hard ground and facing dangers at every turn? Heck, maybe he’d even settle down and find himself a wife. He knew if he went home, his mama would start talking about it. 

Greg Williams chuckled. His brother Glenn probably had a wife and a whole passel of kids by now. He knew their mother would have been after him to find a wife and settle down. She’d started on him before he’d left home after his father’s death. At the time, he hadn’t wanted to be tied down, not to the farm and certainly not to a woman. There was an adventure to be found, and he’d left to go find it. Now he’d had his fill of adventures. All he wanted was to sit by the fire and read a good book. Eat a hot meal that wasn’t beans and fatback, and maybe curl up with a warm body in an actual bed, not a canvas bedroll and old horse blanket on the hard-packed ground. 

Yep, he was tired, and while he didn’t want to farm, there were 400 acres with his name on it sitting fallow, unless Glenn’s family had taken it over. There was sure to be a bed at his childhood home just waiting for him. That thought was more appealing than he thought it would ever be. Time to hit the trail and head to Sanctuary. Time to go home.

Lyla

Lyla Dunston sat in the City's sanctuary of Brotherly Love Community Chapel. She couldn’t believe her ears. Pastor Clarkson stood in front of the Ladies Aid Society and read them a letter from his pastor friend out West. 

 Nick, 

I know this is a big request, but as I’m sure you know, there is a distinct lack of eligible Christian women out West. The same is true for the town of Sanctuary.

My Ladies’ Aid Society has asked me to gain the support of some of my pastor friends back East, to help us arrange Godly and acceptable wives for several of our eligible men. Each letter of introduction included with this request is from men of my church, in good standing both in the community and in the church. I would ask that you talk with your own Ladies’ Aid Society.

Please encourage any young woman who thinks she might like the challenge of life out West to correspond with one of our gentlemen. We can’t offer them the society and shops of Philadelphia. We can offer them a chance to find a husband who will love them and a community that will be enriched by them. There will be hard work and adventure, but community and fun as well. 

I personally guarantee each young lady’s safety and reputation. They will be housed all together, in a boarding house in town, run by a widow and young lady of our community. The men they write to will pay their fare to Sanctuary and provide for their financial needs during the courting period. They will each be offered return fares as well if a match isn’t made. All courting will be done with a suitable chaperone from the older women of our Ladies’ Aid Society as well. 

If you don’t feel comfortable about this, please discard the letters and let me know, so that I can attempt to find somewhere else to try. The need is genuine, Brother. I have men here in need of wives and if we’ve heard right, y’all back East have women in need of husbands. I pray you see this as a way to fill both needs. 

Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read, and I’m praying you will see this as an honest endeavor to meet a need for my congregation. 

In Christ 

Joshua Bryce

“Ladies, I know this is not the type of thing we normally do here at Brotherly Love. Cheryl and I have prayed about this for several days and feel that God wants us to give you the opportunity to see these letters and respond if you want to. She will pass out the nine letters we have from the young men in Sanctuary. If you find a letter that interests you, keep it and write to the young man. Maybe God has a match for some of you through this unique opportunity. I will say if the idea appeals to you but none of these young men do, be patient. My friend has told me that there will be more letters sent this way after these first letters are matched up and weddings are performed. So maybe that will be your chance. If this idea isn’t appealing to you, that is fine as well. We just wanted to give God the chance to do His will here.”

Mrs. Clarkson started passing the letters around. Lyla’s friends began laughing and talking about the letters. 

“A bunch of poor cowboys out West looking for brides and seeking from our church; that’s hilarious.” 

“Mail-Order Brides through the church, I’m shocked. But you’re right, how ugly does a man have to be to send for a stranger to be his bride.” 

Lyla laughed with them and refused to look at the letters when they came their way, but inside she didn’t agree with her friends. The idea of working alongside a man to make a life for themselves appealed to her. She wasn’t against the idea at all. She just wanted to run it past her parents before she pursued the idea any further. “I’ll see you all this weekend. I’m going home. I promised to help mother with some projects and I know father could use some help at the shop.”

“Bye, Lyla. Go help your father and convince one of those rich businessmen to marry you. Then you’ll be set for life.” 

The girls laughed as she left. At eighteen, she wasn’t considered an old maid yet, but she’d never had a beau. No young gentlemen callers had come asking her father if he could court her. No, she wasn’t rich enough to land a society husband as the daughter of a tailor.

Yet, her parents were well off enough not to consider making a match to an older gentleman who might pay them for a young pretty bride. She knew her father had turned away a few of those. But this idea could be her answer. All she wanted was to marry and have a life much like her parents did, one with companionship, respect, and loyalty. While she was at it, love wouldn’t be bad either. 

She waited to talk to them at dinner. Now here they all sat, her and her parents, and she couldn’t think of a way to bring it up. She saw her mother looking at her. “What is on your mind, dear? You obviously aren’t here.”

“Why do you say that, Mother?” 

Her father laughed. “Because I’ve asked you three times already how your day went and you never even blinked.” 

Lyla smiled. “Oh, my day is actually what I was thinking about.” 

“How do you mean, Lyla?”

“Pastor Clarkson was at the Ladies’ Aid meeting today. He read us an unusual letter from a pastor he knows out west. It surprised me at first. That pastor was asking Pastor and Mrs. Clarkson to share a packet of letters with our Ladies’ Aid Society.”

Lyla’s parents both had wrinkled brows as if curious. It was her mother who finally asked the question. “What kind of letters?” 

“Letters of introduction from nine men of the church out West looking for brides.”

Her father nodded. “I’ve heard about this. Well, not churches doing it. But men out West advertising in the papers back East here for brides.” 

Her mother still looked like she was curious. “Why write back East? Why not marry a woman already out West there?” 

“Apparently,” her father replied, “there aren’t enough young women for them to find a wife the conventional way. We know personally that there aren’t enough decent eligible men here in the East. They’re rogues no decent woman would want to marry, or they’re married, and many of them have gone West in search of a better life.”

“Yes, Lyla, why are you thinking about this? Are you considering writing to one of these men?” 

She looked first at her mother and then her father and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure. At first, the idea shocked me, and many of my friends found it funny. However, as I’ve gone through my day, I find that I’m not opposed to the idea. It has a certain charm, even. We all know that suitors aren’t battering down our doors begging for my hand. I want to be married someday. I like the idea of having a family of my own. Keeping my own house and even having a husband who treats me the way you treat Mother, Father. But I don’t know if this is the way for me to go about seeking one.” 

Both her parents nodded. Her father steepled his fingers in front of his lips in thought. “I can understand that. You are still young, and while it may be a fresh way to seek a suitor, I’m not opposed to your attempting it if you wish. After all, these are Christian men in good standing with their church. While having you move out West is not my first choice for you, I know that there may be better opportunities for you out there. Both to start your own family and even a career. I mean, I can’t leave you the shop. It goes to your brother, you know that. I say if your mother agrees, we pray about it, and you go look and see if there is a letter that catches your interest.”

Her mother cleared her throat. “I have been concerned with the lack of quality suitors for you. Did Pastor Clarkson seem to think this pastor out West was a genuine man of God and one that had checked all these young men out?” 

“He did, Mother. Pastor Clarkson said that he went to seminary with the pastor out West, Pastor Bryce. He said that Pastor Bryce knew each of the men who wrote and vouched for their standing in the church and community. He personally guaranteed any bride’s reputation till the time they were wed.” 

“Then I agree with your Father. I think you should. Write to one, if you want to see if this might be God’s plan for you. Let us pray together, and then you go see if the Clarksons will let you see those letters and see if there is a match for you.”

The three of them joined hands and spent time asking God for his direction in Lyla’s life, and to show her if this opportunity was the right one for her. If it was, then guide her to the man He’d created for her. If it wasn’t, show them the path to help her find a Godly spouse. When they were done, Lyla quickly walked back to the church to see if there was a young man whose letter was for her. 

Two

Lyla

Lyla sat at the kitchen table. She’d picked her letter and brought it home. It wasn’t actually a letter from a man in Sanctuary; instead, it was a letter of introduction from his mother.

Seemed the man wanted a wife but was shy, and his mother had written the request for a woman to correspond with her son. She had come home after choosing it and showed it to her parents. They’d asked her to read it to them so they could all pray over the letter, the opportunity, and the young man. 

“Here it is, Mother, Father. She writes:

Hello,

I’m writing on behalf of my son, Glenn. He is twenty years old and in need of a wife who isn’t afraid of hard work. He owns his own farm and is very successful at growing a crop. Glen is a quiet man, but full of life. While he isn’t as outgoing as his twin brother, he is a more suitable young man for marriage.

He has agreed to correspond with any young woman who answers this letter and to see if a match can be made. I took this first step for him because of his shyness. I think he is quite handsome, but I am his mother and will admit to being biased. After his father died, he stayed here in Sanctuary and took over the farm while his brother sought his fortune further West as a cowboy.

He has taken care of me and our farm for four years and, while I am healthy, I find that I am getting older. I would like to see him settled with a wife of sweet disposition who wants to raise a family and take care of the home my husband and sons built. If you fit that description, please write to Glenn Williams, in care of Sanctuary Community Chapel, Sanctuary, Territory of Montana. 

Praying for the right woman, 

Myrtle Williams”

“Well, I don’t know; he didn’t write this himself. He may not really be looking for a bride, Honey.” 

Her father was quiet, his hands steepled under his chin again. “The letter said that he has agreed to correspond. I say that Lyla takes this first step. Write this farmer and see if he responds. Mother, you should write this woman, as well. See if she thinks he is seriously looking for a wife or if this was mostly her idea. Let her know we want our daughter to make an excellent match and are concerned about his commitment to this endeavor.” 

Mother nodded. “I agree that is a good idea, Father. Come, Lyla, let us both go and write our introduction letters, you to the farmer and me to his mother.” 

Lyla kissed Father’s cheek and went up to her room. She took out a piece of paper and sat thinking for a moment before dipping her pen in the ink and writing. 

Mister Williams,

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lyla Dunston, that’s pronounced lie-la, not lay-la. I am eighteen years old until December. I have long wavy blonde hair my Papa says looks like honey, and blue eyes with little flecks of gold in them. We live in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and have done so my entire life. I am the only daughter in a family of four children, and I’m also the youngest. My father is a well-respected tailor here in Philly, and my mother takes care of our home. I help them both. When they have a lot of orders and Papa and my brothers can’t fill them all by themselves, then I use my seamstress skills to help. I am also called in when a lady wants a dress or needs a fitting so that she doesn’t have a male tailor measuring her. I like that work, but know that it will never support me because the shop will go to my oldest brother when my Father retires. My other brothers plan to move West and South to open their own shops in a few years. 

I also enjoy helping Mother here around the house, cooking and cleaning, baking and organizing. These tasks give me joy because we get to enjoy the finished product. Either with a clean and well-stocked house, or tasty treats and delicious meals. I can sew and embroider. I don’t play any instruments because I never took the time to learn. Reading is another favorite pastime of mine.

My parents are part of a lending library here in Philly, and we are always getting books to read. Currently, I’m reading a book by Mister Charles Dickens titled A Tale of Two Cities. I don’t know what else to tell you about myself, except that I am ready to marry and start my own family. 

Your mother told me in her letter what she is looking for in a wife for you, but what are you looking for in a wife? What are you looking for in a marriage? Tell me about yourself and your town and farm. I’ve never lived on a farm and know nothing about farm life. So tell me, if we make a match, what am I to expect? 

There is so much I want to know about you, and I’m sure the same is true about me. If you think we might have a chance at making a match, write me back. I look forward to getting to know you. I’m praying for you and the choice you have to make. May God show you the bride for you. 

Sincerely, 

Lyla Dunston

After reading it over, Lyla sealed it and took it downstairs. Her mother was putting one addressed to Mrs. Williams on the table by the door for Father to drop off at the post office on the way to work tomorrow. She knew that it would take a few weeks to get there and get back if he answered her at all. How long, she wondered, would it take for a shy man to answer any letter like this sent to him? She kissed her Father and Mother and went to bed dreaming of handsome farmers and a faraway land. 

Glenn

Glenn Williams looked at the single letter Pastor Joshua had given him after service today. Henry Snow and Peter Hensley had each gotten two letters, and Kit Lockwood received three, one from each church. He wondered what his ma had said in the introduction letter. Maybe he should have written it himself, but he wasn’t sure what you said to get a woman to want to write to you.

Glen tucked the letter into his shirt. He’d read it after he got home. He’d have to figure out what to say to this woman who wanted to correspond with him. While he wanted a wife to sit with and talk to, the idea almost shut his brain off with fear.

He was uncomfortable talking to people. He was better with plants and animals. But at least in writing her, he wouldn’t have to open his mouth and try to speak without sounding like a complete idiot. He could take his time writing a letter, which is why this idea appealed to him. Not only that, his ma had been hinting heavily since the mail-order bride idea was first proposed amongst the Ladies’ Aid, that it was time for him to think about settling down and raising a family. She wanted grandbabies to hold and doubted that Greg would ever settle down enough to do so. That left it up to Glenn to carry on the family name.  

“Did you get some letters, Glenn?” Ma asked as he helped her up into the wagon.

“I only got one. The others all got two, or with Kit, three.” 

“Well, one is all you need; after all, you can’t marry but one girl.” 

Glenn smiled; it was just like his ma to look on the bright side. “No, not unless we move to Utah with Joseph Smith and company.”

“Are you suddenly dreaming of lots of wives, Glenn? It’s hard enough to get you to talk to one person. I’m not sure multiple wives would be good for you.”  

Glenn smiled and climbed up beside his ma and turned the small one-horse wagon toward home. Like always, they rode in comfortable silence. He looked over the landscape as they headed out of town and down the road that led past their farm.

When they got home, he helped his ma down and went to put the horse and small wagon up. After that was done, he entered the house and sat at the table. He knew his ma would have dinner ready in a few minutes. He took the time to pull out his letter and read it. 

At lunch, his mother kept looking at him. After a few bites, she couldn’t wait any longer. “Well?”

“What?” 

“Can I read your letter?” 

“I would prefer if you didn’t.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Ma, I need to be the one to make this decision. I don’t mean to be rude or insensitive, but this is one time I don’t need or want your opinion. You understand that, don’t you?”

Nodding, she got up and grabbed a couple of plates of oatmeal cookies, and set one in front of him.

“I do, Glenn, and you are right; you need to decide if she is the one for you, not me. I’ll go clean up the kitchen and you write back to this woman who wrote to you.”

She walked over to the sideboard and opened a drawer, pulled out a few sheets of paper, ink, and pen, and sat them before Glenn. He unstopped the ink and dipped the pen in. Next, he laid Miss Dunston’s letter out so that he could answer her questions. He didn’t want to forget something. It worried him some. She was two years younger than him. However, he didn’t have any more experience dealing with the fairer sex than she did dealing with men. 

Glenn took a deep breath, put the pen to the page, and started writing. He’d glance at her letter, then write some more. Continuing that way until he’d answered everything, Lyla asked him.

Glenn knew he should ask her a few questions but couldn’t think of more than a couple. After letting the Ink dry. Glenn folded it up and got it ready to mail. He’d ask his ma to take it up to the mercantile tomorrow so it could be in the Wednesday mail run. Finished, he folded up Miss Dunston’s letter and put it back inside his shirt. He’d put it up in his room later.

Now, he needed to go check on the cows and pigs and get ready to harvest the oats. He’d sell some to Caudwell for the mercantile and store the rest for his and Ma’s use until next year. 

Three

Greg

Greg was heading home. He’d collected his pay and stocked up on staples for the ride. Then He’d left Dodge City heading for the Territory of Montana and a little town nestled in the foothills of the Rockies. He’d thought about writing and letting Glenn and Ma know he was coming. But if he did, he’d have to keep to a pace and schedule to get there when they were expecting him. This way he could take his time and see if he couldn’t make a little more money along the way.

He hadn’t done it often, but he had worked as a bounty hunter every once in a while. A few quick warrants filled could leave him set to turn his part of the homestead into a nice ranch. He wanted to raise horses. He knew of a place where he could get a good starter stock. Greg had worked for an old Mountain Man his first year out on the range, down in what was now the New Mexico territory.

He’d heard the old legend had passed on, but his equally famous grandson now ran the Dueling N’s ranch. He still had the letter from Nugget Nate that told him anytime he wanted to buy stud stock, he’d have a small herd with a couple of stallions for him. That and a few hundred head of cattle, and he’d have a good start on a profitable ranch.

But that took money, so he’d left Dodge with papers on three outlaws who were roaming the area. He’d picked up their trail a few days ago, and he should have them back to Dodge within a week or two. With that thought, Greg stopped for the night to make camp. The sun was dipping below the horizon and some beans and coffee sounded mighty good. Followed by a brief rest, and off again in the morning. That three thousand dollars would be a nice stake for his future. Well, a man could dream, couldn’t he? 

Lyla

Lyla had taken to going to the post office every day about a week ago. She had no idea how long it would take a letter to travel from Philly to Sanctuary and back. She hoped that three weeks was about right, given that most mail West now went by train instead of by Pony Express or stagecoach. Lyla was anxious. What if he didn’t write her back? What if she had said something that made him think she wasn’t serious or ready for life out West? She entered the post office, and the postmaster smiled at her. “I think you got what you’ve been looking for, Miss Dunston. A letter from a place called Sanctuary, in the Montana Territory.” 

She smiled, “Yes, that’s what I’ve been waiting on. Thank you.”

She took the letter and headed home. She was so excited, he’d written back! Lyla hurried in the door and up to her room. She wanted to read his letter in private, after all, if he’d written her back; that made him like a suitor, didn’t it? Lyla thought it did. She sat at her dressing table and carefully opened the letter. It was several pages. Surely that was a good sign. She set the envelope to the side and unfolded the letter itself. 

Miss Dunston, 

Thank you for responding to my Ma’s introduction. I don’t know if you were told or not, but we sent our packets to three different churches back East. Some of my fellow bachelors got letters from each church, a few others got letters from two of them. Yours was the only letter I received. I think that is as it was supposed to be. God knew I wouldn’t be able to choose because I don’t like confrontations much. I also am not very comfortable with people in general. I’m better with plants and animals than people. That’s probably the first thing you should know about me.

Ma calls me shy, but I’m not really, I just don’t know how to relate to other people. The only people I seem to do okay with are my family, other than that I don’t know what to say. I tell you that now, in case my letters are lacking in the things you need to know, or want to know.

I will answer any questions you ask me, but I’m not good at thinking of things to say or write. Your name is very unusual, but I like you told me how to pronounce it, not just how it was spelled. Now, as I read, I know how to say your name. If we meet later, I’ll know how to say it and won’t feel embarrassed or foolish for saying it wrong. Thank you. As you know, my name is Glenn, and it is pronounced just as it looks. 

I don’t know a whole lot about a city like Philadelphia. I imagine it to be a lot like Chicago. Ma made me take her there for a shopping trip about a year ago. I didn’t like it. Too crowded and too many people for me. I was glad to get back to my farm and the fields.

That is one of my worries about our correspondence going on to the next step, I wonder if a big city girl like you could settle in a place like Sanctuary. I mean, the town is growing, but it isn’t as big as Billings, let alone Chicago, or I imagine, Philadelphia. What do you think? Will you miss the bigger city? 

We do have a sort of lending library here, not anything like what you’re used to, I’m sure. Jethro Caudwell, the proprietor of the mercantile, gets two crates of books every few months from the library in Chicago. He loans them out to those who want something to read around here. I’m partial to the tales of Mark Twain myself. I shall have to see if A Tale of Two Cities is in our current crates. If not, I’ll ask him to order me a copy.  

As I’ve said, I’m not much of a talker or writer, so I’ll just answer your questions. What I’m looking for in a wife is what my Pa had with Ma. I want a woman who takes care of the house and family. Yes, one who can cook and clean, obviously. Also, a wife who will listen to my worries and fears, as well as my dreams and ideas.

I want a wife who is confident in what she knows and wants. Who is willing to help around the farm if needed, and eager to help our neighbors who may be less fortunate than us. She should be a believer, but since we are corresponding through the church, I reckon that’s covered. 

As for what I want in a marriage, I want a partnership. I want to be in a relationship that lifts me up where I’m weak and softens me where I’m harsh. Someone who can help me come out of the fields and force me to interact with people. I want what my parents had, a partnership that strengthens both partners. 

You asked me to tell you about myself. I’m two years older than you, I’m twenty and will turn twenty-one on December first. I was not born alone; I have a twin brother who looks nothing like me. I’m the older of the two of us by about two seconds. Ma says we were like Jacob and Esau in that Greg came out holding onto my foot. Our local doctor says I’m fairly tall, almost six feet. I have dark brown hair and Ma says my eyes are brown, so I reckon she’d know.

I haven’t seen my brother in almost four years. He left us right after father died. He owns half of the farm, but when he left, he told me to farm it and keep what I made. In some ways I miss him, things are sure quieter here without him. We were always trying to outdo each other. I think it got on Ma and Pa’s nerves some.  

Let’s see, you want to know about the farm. We moved here when I was ten years old. Pa came when the plots grew to 640 acres. We have three of them, The one that was in Pa’s name, one in mine, and one in Greg’s.

In total, I farm 1,320 acres. The rest is orchards, mountains, or woods. It was hard those first three years; we had to irrigate the fields. Thankfully, there is a spring and a mountain runoff creek both on the land. So, we dug irrigation trenches to each field. I’ve been able to supplement them with a couple of windmill well pumps in some farther fields.

We get good crops most years. We plant oats, barley, wheat, sweet corn, field corn, beets, beans, and carrots in the fields. Ma has a kitchen garden where she grows cabbage, beets, beans, carrots, potatoes, onions, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, and turnips. Our orchard is small, with just some fruit trees along the waterline. Three plums, six pie cherries, two apricots, and three dozen apple trees. We usually harvest those and Ma makes jams from them, pickles some, and cans the rest for winter.

Part of the land is forest where the mountains start. There is plenty of game there that I can hunt to keep us in meat year-round. Like most farms out west, it has chickens we get our eggs from. Along with two milk cows, a small herd of cattle, and three pigs. I have two draft horses for pulling the plow and collection wagon and two mustangs for either riding or pulling Ma’s buggy or together the supply wagon. 

I can’t think of anything else to write, and I need to get ready for tomorrow, anyway. Work on a farm is never done. I look forward to getting to know more about you. 

Sincerely, 

Glenn Williams

There didn’t seem to be much personality in this letter, just a straightforward response to the questions she’d asked. He hadn’t asked her any questions of his own, and the only time he seemed to open up was the few seconds he talked about his brother and missing him. This worried her a bit.

What if she went to Montana, and he turned out to be as closed off as his letter seemed? She knew she was reading too much into just one letter. Lyla would try to get him to open up and talk about himself and his dreams in her next letter. Maybe if she started by telling him about hers. Yes, that was a good plan. They just needed to learn more about each other to form the connection she was praying for in a spouse. 

Four

Glenn

The months had passed, and it was time for Glenn to decide. Should he bring Lyla out to Sanctuary so that they could court and see if there was something there to build a family on? He had come to look forward to her letters. Each one had been filled with a zeal for life that Glenn had never experienced before. She was very sweet and somewhat innocent, but she was full of a quest for adventure that kind of escaped him. Honestly, as he’d read her letters, she had made him long for his brother. She seemed like a female version of his twin. 

He’d talked with several of the other men who were writing to young women. Each of them had already given Joshua the money to bring them out before the winter disrupted the stagecoach runs. He was the only one who hadn’t decided yet. It was one thing to write to the young lady, but entirely another to bring her out to Sanctuary. Were his reservations real or just his fear of rejection and shyness behind his hesitation? 

His mom had been spending a lot of time in town helping get the boarding house ready for the women that would come. The Bride House, everyone was calling it. She had never asked to see any of his letters after the first one. Now he wished he’d shown them to her and asked her to help him write his own. Still, he hadn’t, and now he needed to decide.

Was Lyla Dunston the woman he wanted to marry, or should he start over again in the spring? Just the thought of going through this again made his heart pound. If he didn’t bring Lyla out, he probably wouldn’t get married.

Well, unless he could convince Helen or Ernestine to marry him. But the thought of either of them didn’t appeal to him. Helen was like a sister, she and Greg and he had been like three peas in a pod. While she’d grown into a lovely young lady, she was still more sister than romantic interest.

Ernestine was completely the opposite of what he would want in a wife. Oh, she was beautiful physically, but her attitude and the airs she put on were enough to sour her in his mind. Not only that, but she had her mind set on becoming Pastor Bryce’s wife.

So it was either Lyla or start over. With his mind made up, he sat and wrote one more letter to Miss Dunston, inviting her to come to Sanctuary. Then he’d go into town, mail the letter, and make sure both Pastor Bryce and Helen were given the funds they needed to get Lyla here and keep her at the Bride House. 

That was a preview of His Brothers Bride. To read the rest purchase the book.

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