Denver, Colorado, 1883
Luke Jeffries twisted his hat in his hands as the woman stared at him from behind her desk. Like he was an errant schoolboy facing the teacher for his misdeeds. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. At least not in the way most people considered something to be wrong. He hadn’t hurt anyone or broken any laws, and yet standing in front of a strange woman, begging her to find him a mail-order bride, felt more wrong than anything the worst of sinners could do.
“Please, ma’am,” he said again, swallowing the guilt in his throat. “I’m not asking for me. But you see, my children...” Luke shook his head. Took a deep breath. “Without their mother, things have been hard for them. I’ve got to work.”
Some folks might say he didn’t. The mining company gave him a nice payout after Diana’s death. But he couldn’t accept their blood money. It just sat there in the bank, taunting him, telling him what they thought a woman’s life was worth. But none of that would bring back the woman he loved. A dollar couldn’t tuck in the children at night.
Which was the greater sin? Going to some agency to find himself a bride he could never love? Or spending money that could never replace what had been taken from him?
Luke straightened his shoulders. “I’ll provide my wife with a good home. Plenty of food, and the children are well behaved. It’s a good life for a decent woman.”
“And what about you, Mr. Jeffries?” Mrs. Heatherington, who ran the mail-order-bride agency, stood, leaning over her desk to stare at him even harder. “What do you have to offer of yourself?”
It was the very reason he’d come here. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. “I will be kind to my new wife, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not a violent man. I don’t drink. I don’t gamble. I go to work every day at the smelter, then come home to spend the evening with my family.”
“What of love?” the woman asked quietly, almost too quietly, but his heart heard. And wept.
“I can offer her the love of a friend or a brother. I have no expectations of my future wife to be anything more.”
Luke stared down at his hat, knowing he wasn’t doing it any favors with the way he was twisting it, but right now the feel of the material gave him some comfort, like it was his only friend.
“It seems to me that you need a nanny or a housekeeper, not a wife,” Mrs. Heatherington said, sitting back down and jotting a few notes on a piece of paper. “I can give some recommendations of a few agencies that might help you.”
“No. I appreciate that, but I do need a wife. I can’t afford to pay someone, and to be honest, my living situation...” Luke shook his head again. “It wouldn’t be proper, having a woman come and stay with us if we weren’t married. Housing in Leadville is hard to come by, and our little house is but one room, with a tiny loft for sleeping.”
Mrs. Heatherington looked up at him over her glasses. “But you aren’t going to love her?”
It was obvious what she was asking, and yet such things weren’t spoken of, not in polite society, not with a respectable woman like Mrs. Heatherington. Then again, Luke wasn’t sure that asking someone to find him a wife was something a person did in polite society, either.
“With all due respect, ma’am, I think I understand what you’re asking. And let me assure you that I have no desire to have...” Luke paused and drew in a breath. “Any sort of...relations...with my new bride. Our marriage is to be in name only.”
And yet his words only served to make the woman stare at him like he was a criminal.
“Just what exactly do you think you’re offering? What would induce any woman to marry a man who only wants her to be a housekeeper or nanny without pay, and without the benefit of someone to love her? Someone to care about her?”
Luke shifted uneasily as she rose from her chair yet again.
“Please, ma’am. I just thought that maybe there was a woman out there, someone who doesn’t have all those romantic notions. A widow, maybe. Someone who needs a good home, children to raise. Women dream of that, don’t they?”
He looked at her, hoping she could see the earnest desire in his heart to find a situation that would work for not just him, but for a woman who wanted a similar situation.
“Women dream of being loved, Mr. Jeffries. They dream of being more than someone’s domestic servant.”
Shaking his head, he said slowly, “I don’t intend for her to be my servant. We’d be partners. Working together for the good of our family.”
Mrs. Heatherington glared at him.
“This isn’t just about me. My children need a good woman to guide them. My daughter Ruby, she’s...” Luke hesitated, trying to find polite words to describe the situation he found himself in. “Things are changing in her, and she needs a woman to help her.”
Once again, he stared at the floor, anything to avoid meeting the gaze of the woman who stood on the other side of the desk, judging him. Making him wish he hadn’t seen the ad in the paper promising to find men good wives. Easier than Taking a Mail-Order-Bride Ad Yourself, it claimed. We Do the Work for You. And since he’d tried finding a mail-order bride, with no answers to his ads, this seemed to be his last option.
“Surely a woman from your church could discuss those things with your daughter,” Mrs. Heatherington said kindly. “I understand it would be difficult for a man, but—”
“I won’t have anything to do with the church,” Luke said, his attention snapping back up at her. “That’s the whole reason we’re in this mess. As far I’m concerned, the church killed my wife. Even if they could help, I wouldn’t take it.”
With a pang, Luke thought of the many meals the ladies had brought over for his family when Diana had been killed. He hadn’t wanted to take them, hadn’t wanted to eat the food, but the children had been so hungry, and Luke’s efforts at preparing anything edible hadn’t gone over well. Every bite had made him feel sick, and he’d been grateful when ten-year-old Ruby had calmly told him that her mother had taught her to prepare some basic things, and she’d taken over the cooking.
But