Love Finds You in Poetry, Texas (3 page)

Of course, Belinda would handle the bride-to-be’s train fare from New York to Texas, the business being so new and all, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she had been saving up for this very thing.

“It’s just a small investment in a business that will soon be known across the county,” she said to herself. Her heart lit with joy at the prospect.

Likely, as soon as others in town saw the sheer perfection of her work—her keen sense of pairing up the right fella with the right gal—men would stand in line to pay both her retainer fee and the necessary railroad fares for their incoming brides.

Right now she would focus on one thing at a time, whether Georg knew about it or not. He would come around. Eventually.

She scoured the paper, intent on finding his perfect match. Finally, she paused at one particular advertisement:

S
CHOOLMARM FROM
U
PPER
N
EW
Y
ORK SEEKS HUSBAND

AND NEW LIFE IN THE PLAINS
. O
F HEALTHY STOCK
,

TWENTY
-
EIGHT
,
SHORT AND STOCKY
,
KEEN SENSE OF

HUMOR
. G
REAT WITH CHILDREN
.

“Hmm.” Belinda thought about that for a moment. Georg was a tall, stalwart fellow. Would he mind the short and stocky part? Surely not. He didn’t seem to be the type to care about such things.

Then again, Georg certainly had no children. Yet. And she had to wonder if Poetry’s fields would be considered plains.

Belinda drew in a deep breath, trying to imagine Georg as a father. With his quirky sense of humor and striking good looks, his offspring were sure to be both handsome and charming.

Not that it mattered—at least not yet.

For whatever reason, Belinda’s mind began to wander. She began to imagine how she might describe herself in an ad such as this.

Texas spinster seeks...

No,
spinster
wasn’t the right word, regardless of her age. Spinsters were women who couldn’t find a husband. Belinda had
chosen
not to marry...for the greater good. That was a different thing altogether.

Again her thoughts shifted to the words she would use to describe herself.
Blond.
That part was easy enough.
Strong. Tall. Hardworking. Energetic. Talkative. Can keep up with the men. Best arm wrestler in Kaufman County
.

“Hmm.” Might not be the most appealing description. Maybe she should soften her approach.
Great cook, known for hearty German fare.

That would get ’em.

If she
wanted
to get them. Right now, she just wanted to find a wife for Georg.

Belinda scanned the rest of the page, keeping her formula in mind. The perfect match would, of course, mean that the potential husband and wife would complement in every conceivable way. Similar interests. Similar occupations. Similar points of view. Such a pairing would result in a harmonious life together as a couple. Time would bear this out.

She continued to read, searching for Georg’s perfect match, his scientific equal, but nothing seemed to fit until her gaze landed on one advertisement at the bottom.

C
ORABELLE
W
ATKINS
,
TWENTY
-
THREE
-
YEAR
-
OLD

NATIVE
N
EW
Y
ORKER
,
SEEKS HUSBAND IN SMALL

TOWN
. S
HOPKEEPER BY TRADE
. T
ALL
,
SLENDER
,
WITH

OUTGOING DISPOSITION
,
CHURCHGOER
. R
EADY TO

SETTLE DOWN WITH ADVENTUROUS
,
GODLY MAN
.

N
O CHILDREN
,
PLEASE
.

“Perfect!” Belinda squealed. “One plus one equals...the two of
you
!”

She sprang from her bed and rushed to the rolltop desk before locating a piece of her very nicest floral stationery paper. She reached for a pen, carefully thinking through her words before composing the letter. Belinda spoke them aloud in melodic staccato as she inscribed them on the paper.

“Dear Corabelle...” Belinda paused to smile as she placed the pen to paper once again. “My name is Belinda Bauer. I live in the quaint town of Poetry, Texas, known for its cotton gin, nearby railroad depot, mercantile, restaurant—and its conspicuous absence of women. I am currently employed at the mercantile but have established a new business as a paid matchmaker, as well. I believe you would be the perfect match for one of my clients.”

Belinda stumbled a bit over the word
clients
but remained determined to continue.

“Georg Kaufman is the town barber and a handsome man in his late twenties in need of a wife.”

She paused as she looked over what she’d just written. Georg
was
in need of a wife, whether he knew it or not. Time would convince him of that.
Corabelle
would convince him of that.

“After reading your advertisement, I believe that you and Georg are equal in all respects. Indeed, you are his ideal match. If you are interested in coming to Texas on a trial basis, your train fare will be covered.”

Belinda drew in a deep breath at that point, wondering how much a ticket from New York to Poetry would cost. A pretty penny, no doubt. And what if Corabelle decided not to stay? Should Belinda purchase a round-trip ticket, just in case?

Perhaps a bit more persuasion was in order.

“You will love our beautiful town, especially in the springtime. And—speaking as one who has known Georg for many years—you will love him, as well. He is tall and well-groomed, with dark, wavy hair and a handsomely trimmed mustache. He is a hard worker, has all of his teeth, and has never been married, so there are no children involved in this match whatsoever.”
At least not yet.

She forged ahead. “I have always known Georg to be a God-fearing man; he never misses a Sunday service and is good and kind to all in our little community.”

Belinda smiled as she thought about what she’d just written. How wonderful, that she did not have to exaggerate Georg’s assets. He was every bit the man she’d made him out to be and then some. And who knew him better than Belinda, anyway? Why, they’d gone to school together. He had rescued her from several girlish mishaps through the years, including the time she’d twisted her ankle when falling down the front steps of the school.

“I look forward to your reply,” she concluded. “Please feel free to write to me in care of Poetic Notions, in Poetry, Texas. Yours most sincerely, Belinda Bauer.”

Lifting the letter, Belinda blew on it to dry the ink. Afterward, she skimmed over the words once more, just to make sure she hadn’t left anything out. Then, just for fun, she penned a quick little poem to add to the letter:

There once was a town with no women
With men they were a’swimmin’
But a gal from the east
Came to tame the wild beast
And before long, the menfolk were grinnin’.

She grinned as she read over her little limerick. “There you go! Now she will see that we are poetic in all respects.”

Belinda read again the parts of her letter where she described Georg’s physical attributes, confident she had done him justice. Corabelle would not be disappointed.

Hopefully Georg wouldn’t be, either.

Content with her work, Belinda folded the stationery page in half. She reached inside the drawer and pulled out a matching envelope, which she quickly addressed, based on the information she found in the newspaper.

If she rushed, she could make it to town before the post office closed. Then the letter would stand a chance of leaving today. Once it was sent, there would be no turning back. Not that she minded. No, “onward and upward” remained her new motto. No hesitation. No fear.

She stood and checked her appearance in the mirror above the desk.

“Not much I can do about this mop of hair,” she said. Still, she brushed the blond mess behind her ears, slipped on some shoes, and headed downstairs. She’d almost made it to the front door when her mother met her, head-on.

“Oh, you startled me, Belinda! Where are you headed to in such a hurry?”

“To town, Mother.” She offered up a faint smile, hoping no more questions would come her way.

“I didn’t think you were working with Hilde and Greta today.” Her mother gave her an inquisitive look. “And your hair looks a bit, well...”

“No, I’m not working today,” Belinda interjected. “I, um...” She slipped her hands behind her back, clutching the letter in her fingertips.

“Belinda.”

“I won’t be long, Mother, I promise.” She rushed around her, sprinting down the front steps of the house.

“Walk, Belinda, don’t run. Act like a lady!” Her mother’s words echoed in her ears as she sprinted beyond the flower beds in the front yard and into the lane just beyond.

All the way to town, Belinda thought about the joy this match would bring. Georg and Corabelle Kaufman. How wonderful that sounded. How completely perfect! And what a lovely couple they would make. She could just imagine the wedding ceremony now—right down to the flowers. Daisies, of course, trimmed out with vetch, the county’s fairest and most abundant wildflower.

Oh, how fun, to plan all of this without Georg’s knowledge. Surely he would thank her later. But for now, keeping all of this a secret was, by far, the better plan.

With a spring in her step and a poem in her heart, Belinda continued on toward town.

Georg stepped outside the barbershop, rag in hand, to clean the front window. He basked in the glow of the early afternoon sunshine, happy for a break from his customers. Not often did he get a chance to rest from his labors—not during the summertime, anyway. No, his days were most often filled with rough, talkative men, most of them in need of a shave or a haircut.

He went to work, cleaning. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, Georg couldn’t keep the large plate-glass window free from those pesky bugs. And the never-ending bits of dirt kicked up from passing wagons posed an ongoing problem, as well. He gave the window a final polish then stood back to give it a thorough once-over. Content, he turned back toward the door.

Just then, Georg felt a rush of air from behind him. The impact—hard and swift—knocked the wind out of him and threw him off-balance. He found himself belly-down on the ground, with his face in the dirt. Georg let out a groan as pain radiated through his shoulder. He looked up to discover Belinda Bauer, cheeks flushed, leaning over him.

“Oh, Georg! I’m so sorry!” She extended her hand, but he refused it and managed to get up on his own. He wouldn’t be seen with a woman helping him to his feet—not in this town, anyway.

“Oh, I’ve ruined you!” she said, trying to brush off his shirt. “I am so sorry. Truly.”

“No permanent damage done.” He took over the task of brushing off his shirt. And his pants. And his face. The pain in his right shoulder continued. He did his best to shake it off, like the dirt.

All the while, Belinda stared at him, mouth agape. “My papa is right,” she whispered finally. “I should’ve been born a boy.”

Georg couldn’t help but laugh at that. Though tall and solid, Belinda Bauer held every girlish charm, especially at moments such as these when tears threatened to cover her lashes. In fact, many a time she’d taken his breath away, though he had never voiced such a thing. No, she was certainly not meant to be a boy.

“Where were you going in such a hurry, anyway?” he asked. “You could’ve killed someone running at that speed.”

“Oh? Was I running?” Again her cheeks flushed, and her blue eyes twinkled mischievously. He knew that look all too well.

“Yes, you were running.” He gave her a pensive stare. “What are you up to, Miss Bauer?”

“Oh, nothing.” She fidgeted with something behind her back... something tucked into her shirtwaist, perhaps? “I’m just headed to the post office before they close up for the day. That’s all.”

“Ah. Well, what could be so important that you’d run me down in the process?” he asked. “Something going on at home?”

“No.”

“The mercantile?”

Belinda brushed the toe of her shoe back and forth in the dirt. “No, nothing happening at Poetic Notions.” She looked up with a playful smile. “Don’t fret, Georg. All is well. One day you will thank me for running you down in the street, just wait and see.”

The oddest feeling washed over Georg as he watched Belinda sprint across the street in the direction of the post office. For whatever reason, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that her visit to town had something to do with him.