Mail Order Millie

Mail Order Millie

By Katie Crabapple

Copyright 2011 by Katie Crabapple

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George has a hard time dealing with his farm and his four children after the death of his wife. When the ladies at his church raise money for a mail order bride for him, he doesn’t argue with them. He needs a caretaker for his family. Millie has a short time to find her own way in the world before she is kicked out of the orphanage where she was raised. George’s letter about his requirements for a bride fit in all ways but one. Will her lie keep them apart even after they’re married?

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Minnesota 1880

Agnes climbed back into her buggy and headed toward town. She’d just delivered her weekly meal to Mr. Stevens, a widower from their church, and his four children. After Mrs. Stevens had died of fever six months before, the ladies in the church had divided up the days of the week. Every day someone drove the four miles out to the Stevens’ farm and fixed a meal. They’d all assumed he’d have found a new wife by now. Obviously Mr. Stevens needed a little bit of prompting.

Once she was back in town, Agnes sent her only son, James, with letters to the six other women who were taking meals out to the family. She had a solution, and they were all going to need to work together to make it happen.

The following afternoon, a Saturday, the women gathered in Agnes’ parlor. “It’s time Mr. Stevens remarried,” Agnes announced once they were all settled with their coffee and cookies.

Stella sighed. “I won’t argue you with, Agnes, but where is he going to find a wife? The closest girl to marrying age in the whole town is my Carrie, and she’s only fourteen. That’s too young to marry and be an instant mother.”

“I have an idea. You see, I saw an ad for an agency that hooks farmers and ranchers up with eligible young ladies.” She paused for effect. “We’re going to find Mr. Stevens a mail order bride.” She beamed a smile at the others as she said the words.

Norma’s jaw dropped. “Mr. Stevens doesn’t have the kind of money it would take for a mail order bride.” None of them did. They were a community of dirt farmers.

Agnes nodded. “I realize that. We’re going to have a bake sale to raise the money.” She dared the other women to argue with her on this. They wouldn’t, of course. No one ever argued with Agnes.

The other women all nodded hesitantly. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Agnes?” Stella asked. Agnes had always been the unacknowledged leader of their little group, because she was the most outspoken. She was rarely questioned when she came up with one of her ideas.

“I’m positive. Now, should we set the date for the bake sale for a week from tomorrow? We’ll hold it right after church. The lonely farmers who don’t have a wife baking for them will be thrilled to get their hands on our baked goods.”

The women talked and discussed and set a sales goal. Agnes would make her pumpkin pie and Stella would make her applesauce cake. They were sure they could raise the money in just one Sunday. Once they had paid the broker for his services, They’d have Mr. Stevens write a letter discussing what he was looking for in a wife. It was all going to be perfect.

*****

Boston 1880

Millie walked slowly down the hallway of the orphanage to Mrs. Stanton’s office. She knew what this was about. She was going to be eighteen soon. It was time she made plans to leave the orphanage behind. They were overcrowded and there was no room for her.

She took a deep breath, wishing she could put off the inevitable, and knocked on the door.

“Enter!” The voice was brisk, letting Millie know she wasn’t in the mood to be argued with today.

She walked into the office and stood straight and tall in front of Mrs. Stanton’s desk. “You wanted to see me, ma’am?” Her hands were shaking as she buried them in the skirt of her long dress.

Mrs. Stanton was a kindly woman in her fifties. She smiled at Millie. “I’m sure you know what this is about.”

Millie nodded, looking down at the floor. “It’s time for me to move on.” Please say you want me to stay on and help with the children. You know I’m a hard worker. Everyone says I’m the hardest worker they’ve ever seen. Please let me stay. Please.

Mrs. Stanton sighed. “I wish it were different. We simply don’t have room for all the children we have. The older ones need to find a way to make their own way in the world.” She picked up a stack of five letters from her desk. “These are all letters from men who live out west who need wives. Pick the one you want, and bring the rest back to me. You’ll need to send a letter back to the man, and we’ll see what happens from there.”

Millie sighed. She’d really hoped the orphanage would find a job for her, but it hadn’t happened and her time was up. “Thank you, ma’am.” She looked down at the letters in her hands. “I’ll go read them now.”

Her friend, Charlotte was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her. She took one look at the letters in her hand. “You’re getting the boot, aren’t you?”

Millie nodded slowly. “It’s time. You’re next, you know.”

Charlotte sighed. “I’m going to miss you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“I’m not going yet, but soon. I have to pick out a letter to answer.”

“Do you want help? Or would you rather do it alone?”

Millie looked down at the letters. “I think it’s something I need to do alone.”

“I’ll be here if you need me.”

Millie walked slowly through the old house to the room she shared with six other girls. The beds were all lined up against one wall, with barely enough room to stand between them. She sat down on her bed and began reading. The first letter was from a nineteen year old boy who wanted to marry and get his own homestead in the Dakota Territory. She wanted a man who already had an income, she thought. She didn’t want to ever be in this position again.

The second letter was from a sixty year old man who just lost his wife the previous year. She wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t imagine having to be the wife of someone that old, but the idea of being in an established home was nice. No. He was too old.

The third letter sparked her interest. “I’m a twenty-six year old man with four children. I live on a farm in Minnesota. My wife died of a fever a few months back, and I need a new wife to help with four children. Must be over twenty-one and a good cook. Will pay your way here, and send a clothing allowance. Must be a strong Christian.” It was signed simply, “God bless. George Stevens.”

Millie read the letter once more. She went to church every Sunday. She had helped in the orphanage kitchen often enough that she could cook a decent meal most of the time. She loved children. She pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper and wrote a quick reply. “I think I’m the wife you’re looking for. I’m twenty-two. I work in the kitchen of an orphanage here in Boston, and would like to move out west to be your wife. I love children. I hope you will consider me. I have been a Christian all my life. Millie Brown.”

As she folded the letter, she told herself the lies she’d told were no big deal. He would be thrilled once he saw her. She was pretty after all. She took the other letters down to Mrs. Stanton. “I’m going to walk my reply over to the post office. I’ll be back in time to help with dinner,” she promised.

As she walked, Millie dreamed of what it would be like to live on a farm in Minnesota. She would cook and clean, and he would shower her with gifts. She’d be able to wear fine dresses like the ladies on the street. She would never again be in a position of wearing hand-me-down clothes. Life would be perfect.

*****

Minnesota

George stared down at the letter in his hand. When the women from church announced they’d raised the money for a mail order bride for him, he hadn’t known what to think. Yes, he knew he was a burden on them, but his oldest daughter, Patience, just wasn’t old enough to help out much. At six, her mother had just started to teach her to cook before her untimely death. He closed his eyes. He missed Martha with everything inside him. She’d been a good wife and a good mother.

He flipped the letter over in his hand. Maybe the ladies were right. He needed a wife who would do the cooking and cleaning and tend the children. Patience wasn’t able to take care of the others for long periods, and he was going to put them all in the poor house if he didn’t find more time to devote to the farm chores.

He opened the letter and read it slowly. Her name was Millie. She hadn’t included a picture, but he didn’t really care what she looked like. He just needed someone to help with the children and cook decent meals. She’d do.

He put his pen to paper. “You sound like you’re exactly what we need. I will ask the agency to forward your fare and some extra for some new clothes for you. We will see you soon, I hope.”

*****

Boston

Millie read the letter and smiled. She walked to Mrs. Stanton’s office and knocked briskly, entering at her call. “I’ve found a husband. My fare and money for clothing will be forwarded to me.”

Mrs. Stanton smiled. “I’m happy for you, Millie. I hate telling you girls you have to leave, but we just can’t afford to keep you. I hope you’ll be very happy.”

Millie knew that Mrs. Stanton was being sincere. She’d have loved to keep every single child who came through the orphanage forever, but then she’d never be able to help anyone else. “I’m sure I will.” There was a spring in her step as she left Mrs. Stanton’s office. She was going to be a wife and a mother, and treated like a princess. This was the life she always knew she was destined for.

Two days later a letter came with a train ticket, a stage coach ticket and some money. More money than Millie had ever seen. She immediately purchased some fabric and began making a wedding dress. For George to have sent this much money, he must be well-off. She smiled. Life was going to be so much better for her.

She sent a letter off immediately with her arrival date and time. She’d be leaving in four days. She bought enough fabric for several dresses and a few books for the trip. She would be a married woman in a few weeks. She couldn’t wait.

She and Charlotte worked night and day for the next four days on her wedding dress. She already had a few dresses that would serve her well, but nothing to be married in. She’d sew the other dresses with the fabric she’d purchased once she reached Minnesota.

Eleven days later, early in the morning, Millie sat staring out the window of the train. They would be arriving at her train depot in less than an hour, and then she would have a three hour journey on the stagecoach before she reached her new home outside of the town of Bainsville, Minnesota.

She clutched her stagecoach ticket in her fist. She’d slept little since getting on the train. She’d had to ride in the common car the whole way, and she’d heard some cuss words that shocked her to the core. She’d had high expectations for her first train ride, and the reality of what it was like shocked her to the core. Yes, the travel was fast, but it was dirty and bumpy. She hoped to never have to ride another train in her life.

Since she’d switched trains in Chicago, she’d sat with a woman, only a few years older than she was, and her three small children. She’d held the woman’s little boy, Elmer, in her lap most of the day yesterday. He was now sound asleep on the seat beside her, curled into a little ball.

She was weary from her week-long journey, and hoped she would be able to bathe before she met her new husband. She smelled rank, and knew she must look even worse. She’d been thrown up on twice yesterday as little Elmer had experienced motion sickness.

She clutched her bag nervously as she got off the train and entered the large depot in St. Paul. Never having left Boston, this journey had been quite an adventure, but not the kind she’d wanted. She’d imagined a much more glamorous time than what she’d had on the cramped train car.

There were three stagecoaches waiting in front of the train station, and she approached the first driver to see if he was headed to Bainsville. He pointed to the second without saying a word to her.

She walked in the direction he pointed, stopping to ask the driver, “Are you going to Bainsville?”

He grunted and held his hand out for her ticket. She climbed into the coach and sat on one of the benches, her both bag in her lap. A woman alone and a young couple joined her in the coach. They all gave her strange looks. They obviously hadn’t been traveling as long as she had. They were all still fresh and clean looking.

She rested her head against the window beside her, wishing she could sleep. She was almost done with this long journey, and just wanted to be there. She had George pictured in her mind. He would be tall with blond hair and blue eyes. He would take one look at her and know he’d made the best decision of his life by sending for her. He’d hire someone to do all the housework and someone else to farm, so they could spend all their days together, going on long walks and gazing into each other’s eyes. She smiled as she pictured it.

The hours went by quickly as she stared out the window at the countryside. It was a beautiful land, and she was happy to be able to be a part of it.

Bainsville was the first stop, and she looked out the window, half hoping to see George and his children waiting for her. The other half of her hoped someone would be waiting to drag her off to a huge tub of water and force her to bathe until she no longer smelled like sweat and vomit. Instead she saw a small group of women who were watching the stagecoach. She got out carrying her bags. She walked to the women and asked, “I’m supposed to be meeting George Stevens here. Do any of you know him?”

The women exchanged looks with one another. One of them stepped forward, holding out her hand to greet Millie. “I’m Agnes Sims. We need to get you to my house and bathed before your wedding. We only have an hour, and you cannot get married smelling the way you do.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste.