Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Sweat trickled down Travis’s forehead as he stood under the hot sun, rereading the yellowed paper in his grasp.
Ronan Walsh, his neighbor and friend, had brought the telegram from town.
Like Travis, the man had a steady number of chores to tackle on his farm before harvest, so whenever they went to town, they checked each other’s mail to avoid extra trips.
Travis’s chest tightened, processing the message.
Never did he expect his world would change in a single day.
Miss Callahan was coming soon. He had anticipated waiting another month for a reply, but her swift response showed she was eager—eager to marry him.
Travis exhaled and wiped his forehead. He admired the woman’s determination, yet his doubts taunted him.
Did he truly want her in their family, with all the complexities her arrival would bring?
A part of him found her decision relieving, that way, he couldn’t back out of the marriage.
Miss Callahan could be already on her way, boarding a train, full of hope she’d come home to a husband and children, and it would be wrong for Travis to send her back.
When Travis went out of his way to place an advertisement, he had no idea how costly a mail-order bride would be.
He hoped a woman would respond close by, but it had to be North Carolina.
The state lay thousands of miles away and would take her at least six months to reach by wagon train.
But to arrive faster and safer, she’d have to take several train passages to Cheyenne then a stagecoach that was more than four hundred miles.
The money Travis had sent amounted to nearly half of his earnings from the last two harvests. Sending money to a stranger was a risk, but Josephine Callahan left a promising impression on him with her honesty and willingness to come out west.
Miss Callahan would need to be strong to endure the journey and life on the homestead.
But in those long weeks of travel, she might begin to acclimate.
Or Travis prayed so. The woman constantly occupied his mind, the mystery torturing him.
Travis overheard rumors once mail-order brides were usually old maids seeking out husbands, but how old was too old?
Travis turned thirty only three months ago. What if he was too old for her?
When Travis and Sophie married, she had been eighteen, but Travis was close to her age, being twenty.
Now, being a decade older, a sour pit formed in his stomach.
Travis crumbled the telegram. How could a young girl mother three children and a baby?
Let alone, how could he marry a mere child?
He wasn’t like those bawdy old men seeking a young, pretty thing to warm their beds.
He needed a woman of strength and resilience, someone with a humble mind and a heart big enough to love the children he already had.
He didn’t need more, and he certainly didn’t need a blushing bride.
Even now, the telegram itched at his curiosity more intensely than ever.
Not even meeting her yet, Travis didn’t know how their arrangement could work.
All he knew was Josephine would be his wife, but in name only.
Nothing in the advertisement promised romance.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t received a reply at first. But what was different about this Josephine Callahan?
Was she desperate? Or did she pity him? What if Travis couldn’t take his vows seriously with Josephine, given his heart was loyal to another?
Travis wiped his face with a bandana before stepping inside the cabin. Upon entering, his senses were met by the strong smell of venison stew. Travis scrunched the yellow paper into his pocket.
Now that Miss Callahan was on her way, he’d have to break the news he pained to admit to himself.
How would he tell the children? How would they feel about having a new mother, only eight months after Sophie’s death?
Betrayed of course. And confused. How could Lillian comprehend this at four years old?
Ivy and Jonas could protest all they wanted, but they needed a mother, one who could be there for them beyond the grave.
Travis removed his hat and hung it on the hook beside the door.
“Pa!” his three children shrieked, running towards him.
They gathered around him, hugging his legs tightly.
Seeing his children after a long day of weeding and fertilizing the wheat fields made Travis smile.
After Sophie’s passing, he found little to smile about—except when his children came near.
He kissed each of their heads, holding them close.
He looked up to see Aunt Polly holding Gideon on her hip. Travis swallowed a lump in his throat. Gideon smiled, revealing his two bottom teeth, and held his arms out to Travis. Each time Travis stomached to look at the boy, he seemed to double in size.
Six-year-old Jonas took Travis’s hand, tugging it in the opposite direction. “Pa, come to the table. See what I drew.”
Ivy pushed Travis towards the table. “Come see, Pa.”
Travis looked at the picture Jonas held, and he couldn’t resist grinning. Jonas appeared so proud of his drawing, his head held high and chest out. Lillian held hers up next, which was just squiggly lines, and Ivy held up her picture of a tree. She had improved so much over the years.
“Nice job, children. I’m very proud.”
Jonas pointed at his picture. “It’s your horse, Pa. Can’t ya tell?”
“I thought so.” Travis knew nothing about art. He couldn’t tell Jonas’s drawing from a clump of random shapes, but he patted the boy’s head with pride.
Aunt Polly clapped, interrupting the moment. “All right, you three, clear this table for supper.”
The children swiftly removed their pencils and paper and headed down the tiny hallway into their bedroom. Adjusting Gideon on her hip, Aunt Polly pulled down the bowls and spoons from their usual spots on the shelf above the stove.
Travis set Jonas’s drawing down on the table “Let me help with that.”
His aunt shook her head in protest. “Sit down, Travis. Relax while I set the table.”
Gideon’s green eyes met Travis’s, and he quickly looked away, his heart sinking. “I hate that you work so hard for us, Auntie.”
“Nonsense!” Aunt Polly declared, setting the last bowl down. “It’s always a joy to care for a family again.”
Before Travis could open his mouth to speak again, the children rushed back. Travis pulled out the chair for little Lillian, who was too small to do it herself.
“What did you young’uns do today?” Travis asked as Aunt Polly scooped the stew into their bowls.
“I got the eggs!” Lillian exclaimed.
“No, I got the eggs,” Ivy corrected, pointing to herself.
Lillian slouched and lowered her head. “I put them in the basket.”
Travis nodded, lowering himself into his seat beside Lillian. “Well, I am proud of you gals. Gathering eggs is a very important job. We wouldn’t have breakfast in the morning without you two.”
“Aunt Polly said she’ll give me a nickel when she sells them at Mr. Lynde’s store,” Ivy announced.
Travis looked up at Aunt Polly, raising his brow.
“They earned it,” she said, bouncing Gideon on her lap.
Travis cleared his throat and patted the table. “So long as you work hard, you’ll keep earning your nickels.”
“What ‘bout me?” Jonas asked. “Can I have a nickel, too?”
“It’s not your job,” Ivy scolded with thinned eyes. “You gotta keep muckin’ the stalls.”
Jonas folded his arms and wrinkled his nose. “I hate muckin’ the stalls. Pa, can I please do somethin’ else?”
“Mucking out the stalls is important too, Jonas. Without you, the barn would smell worse than it does.”
The children let out loud, collective giggles.
“But can I get paid?” Jonas asked, his eyes bright.
Travis sighed. Jonas was a good kid and hardly ever got into too much trouble. Travis wished he could pay the boy or spoil him with an award, but with Josephine’s arrival, money would be tight until harvest.
“I bet your sisters would be glad to share their nickels with you.”
Ivy and Lillian groaned.
“But Pa—” Ivy whined.
“I won’t hear it,” Travis said sharply, rubbing his face.
As much as he loved his children, their bickering caused his temples to beat.
Oh, what he’d give sometimes for peace and quiet after a long day's work. But he’d rather have his children at the table instead of sitting alone, grieving over the empty spaces.
“Your brother works hard, too, and he needs a little reward.”
Ivy’s bottom lip quivered. “But my paint. I was saving for paint.”
Travis frowned. Travis’s heart cracked as Ivy’s disappointment spilled across her face, her eyes glistening. Ivy had always dreamed of the day she’d have paint, but that day had never come, slipping through her fingers like sand.
“We’ll get you paint soon, Ivy. I promise.”
Her lips curved into a small smile.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but our supper is going to get cold,” Aunt Polly warned, folding her hands into prayer position.
Travis nodded. “I agree. Lillian, would you like to say the blessing?”
The child smiled and bowed her head. “Dear God, thank you for our food, thank you for the water from the well, and the chickens that give us eggs, our horses, because without them we’d have to walk a long way to town, and please let our wheat grow big and tall so we can make lots of money and Ivy can get her paint. Amen.”
“Amen,” Aunt Polly said with a slight chuckle in her voice.
The children and Aunt Polly dug into their food immediately, but Travis barely touched his plate, the heaviness in his stomach making it hard to eat.
Gideon squirmed in Aunt Polly’s lap, letting out a squeal as he patted the table.
Travis sucked in a breath then exhaled. Gideon needed a mother.
He observed the rest of his children. All of them did.
Aunt Polly was an excellent help, but the children didn’t need just help—they needed maternal guidance, a light into the home that would fill their empty hearts.
Travis pushed his stew aside and decided to let loose of the secret that was nearly eating him alive. “Children, I have something I need to speak with you about. It’s very important.”
The room went silent as little eyes were upon him.
Travis tugged the collar of his shirt and cleared his throat.
“Earlier this year, I put an advertisement in the newspaper about finding a new wife.” He stopped, studying their confused faces.
Heat crawled up his neck. “A month ago, I received a reply. Her name is Josephine Callahan, and she will be coming here in a few weeks.” Travis could barely form the words from his mouth.
His stomach twisted while he prepared himself to say them. “She will marry me and be your new ma.”
The children stayed silent. Jonas and Lillian were too young to understand, their innocent faces reflecting confusion. But Ivy was old enough; her face turned as white as a sheet, fear dawning in her eyes. Aunt Polly shot Travis a look that urged him to continue.
Travis leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him. “Do any of you have any . . . questions?”
“Will she replace Ma?” Lillian asked, her posture leaning forward and her blue eyes and brows displaying evident confusion.
Travis fought to hold back the tears welling in his eyes, the weight of Lillian’s words shattering his soul. “Of course not. Your ma was a special woman who loved all of you very much, and no one will ever replace her.”
“Will I have to call her Ma?” Jonas asked.
Travis shook his head. “No, Miss Callahan would be fine. After we’re married, you can call her Josephine.”
“That’s a long name,” Lillian said, leaning against Travis.
Travis chuckled for a brief moment, yet he couldn’t find anything funny about the situation. “It is.” Travis looked over at Ivy. “Is there anything you want to ask, Ivy?”
Ivy looked down at her barely eaten food. “May I be excused?”
Travis nodded. “Yes, you may.”
Ivy stood from her seat and pushed the chair under. Aunt Polly took her bowl. “I’ll put this on the stove and keep it warm.”
Ivy nodded and walked away. Travis’s chest ached for her.
Peering up, he shifted his focus to Gideon, who looked at him with a bright smile that lit up his face.
The boy didn’t know what was happening. Josephine Callahan would be the only mother he’d ever know.
This sacrifice would change everything—for better or worse.