A Bride for Cameron by Barbara Goss (i like reading .txt) 📕

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.