Mail Order Midwife: Brides of Beckham, #18

By Kirsten Osbourne

Widowed midwife Patsy Lawrence spent too much time working and not enough with her young daughter. She felt like life was passing her by, and she knew Emily's childhood would be over before she realized it. So she took matters into her own hands and responded to a letter for a mail order bride, hoping for a better future for herself and her daughter.

Dr. Wesley Hardy was happy with his frontier existence, but he needed a wife to complete him, so he sent a letter to a mail bride agency back East, hoping to find someone compatible. The idea of having a wife who would cook all his meals and keep his home and clothes in order made him happy. When he received a letter from a widow with a young daughter, he was thrilled with everything but her profession. Could he live with the fact that his new bride was a midwife? Or would they be destined to live without love for the rest of their days?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Unlimited Dreams
• Release date: Feb 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393267027

Book preview

Chapter One

DR. WESLEY HARDY WALKED into his home behind his office, rubbing his eyes. He was exhausted, and there was no dinner cooking. He needed to hire a woman to come in and cook his meals. Better yet, he needed to get married, so he would have someone cooking his meals as well as cleaning for him.

But who could he possibly find? There were four unattached women in Butterfly Meadows, and two were prostitutes. Of the other two, one was sixteen, and much too young for a man of thirty-two, and the other was fifty-seven, and her bad temper was legendary in all of South Dakota. No, he didn’t want to marry anyone he knew.

The last time he’d been in town, he’d seen an advertisement for a newspaper that was called the Grooms’ Gazette. He knew it advertised men who were looking to marry women back East. Women who wanted to marry a man in the West. He wasn’t exactly a cowboy, but he was a man of the West. Now. He’d started out in New York City, but there hadn’t been a terrible need for doctors there. No, Butterfly Meadows was where he belonged. Now he just had to find a way to bring a suitable woman here to be his bride.

He sat down, picking up his pen, and ignoring his rumbling stomach.

Dear Potential Bride,

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dr. Wesley Hardy, and I’m a doctor in the beautiful town of Butterfly Meadows, South Dakota. We’re a small town, but we have enough of the comforts of the East to be habitable by a gentle lady. I’m thirty-two years old, and I have all my teeth. I’ve never been told that foul odors emanate from my person, and my face has never made small children run away in horror.

I’m looking for a bride who enjoys cooking and cleaning. I would prefer someone between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. I’m not fussy about appearance but would consider myself fortunate indeed if she had red hair. If this sounds like you, and you are willing to make your way to Butterfly Meadows and see what my town has to offer, please let me know. I will happily pay your train fair.

Sincerely,

Dr. Wesley Hardy

He read through his words once more, looking for errors. He couldn’t make a bad first impression on the woman who would someday be his wife.

After pushing the letter away, he got to his feet to see about supper. Surely there was something he could make that would be palatable.

PATSY LAWRENCE BRUSHED the hair out of her face, noticing that her hand was covered with blood. The new mother was holding her baby and cooing to her happily, and her sister was beside her. I’m going to go clean up and then call in Bob. He’s going to be so proud of his son.

The mother looked up with tears in her eyes. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d have done without you!

Patsy smiled, going to the pump and washing her hands and face. She hoped she didn’t need another bath. She’d taken one just a few hours before she was called to birth the baby. She’d been a midwife since before her daughter was born, and she thanked God every day she’d taken up the vocation.

When her husband had died unexpectedly five years before, she had been able to support herself and her little girl, Emily, while taking the time to grieve. So many women would have had to marry again right off, but she’d not been in that position, and she was thankful.

After scrubbing herself up to her elbows with lye soap, she smiled down at the new mother. I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you. She looked at the new aunt. Are you going to stay and help with meals for a day or two?

Alice, an old schoolmate of Patsy’s, nodded. I will be here for as long as she needs me. We’ll send for you if something goes awry, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. Thank you so much for helping us.

Patsy gave a tired wave. You know I’m here whenever I’m needed.

Did you leave Emily with your mother?

Patsy nodded. I did. I’m off to get her now. It was after eleven at night, and she and her daughter both should have been in bed hours before.

The walk through the city of Beckham, Massachusetts was always eerie at this time of night. She was used to the streets filled with people, rushing to where they needed to be.

Her job as a midwife had kept her and her daughter fed and clothed for the past five years, but she was becoming discontent. She was ready to marry again and have more children of her own. There was nothing in the world more precious than holding a newborn and knowing you got to keep them, not having to give them to their mother as soon as they were clean.

She loved her daughter with everything inside her, even though she wasn’t the most ladylike little girl who had ever graced Beckham. No, Emily preferred to climb trees and run around playing tag and baseball to sitting quietly doing embroidery. Because Patsy worked so much, her daughter had been allowed to run a bit wild. She knew she needed to take her in hand, but she also knew the girl would find her way. Eventually, she’d be happy to sit in a dress and be a lady. It just might not be tomorrow.

Patsy stopped at her mother’s house, rapping softly on the door. She never knew what to expect after a late night delivery. Sometimes Emily would keep her mother up until all hours, and other times, Emily would be sound asleep and have to be carried home.

Her mother hurried to the door, pointing to where Emily was sleeping soundly on the sofa. I guess I’m going to be carrying her home tonight.

Her mother smiled. I guess you are. Did the delivery go well?

Patsy nodded. As well as any first births do. Both mother and baby are healthy. She had a little boy.

Oh, that’s lovely. Have they named him yet?

Not unless they did it after I left. Patsy stifled a yawn with her hand. I should be on my way. I need to get some sleep while I can. I have three more mothers who are close to their due dates, and I take my rests whenever possible. She stepped into the house and went to pick Emily up, putting the girl's arms over her shoulders, and wrapping her legs around her waist to make it easier on herself. I’ll see you soon, Mama. Thank you for watching her.

Her mother frowned as she opened the door, and Patsy understood. She looked tired, because she was. She hadn’t eaten in twelve hours since she was summoned to the birthing. She needed to go home and fix herself a meal, but most likely, she’d get Emily into her nightgown and fall into her own bed, exhausted. That’s how her days went.

She needed to find a husband, someone who could take some of the burden. She’d probably still deliver babies, but it would be nice if she got some breaks from it.

She closed her eyes, thinking about how easy life would be if she married again. Maybe she would go see Elizabeth Tandy, one of her favorite people at church. She had a mail order bride agency. Certainly there was someone who was willing to take on a twenty-seven-year-old widow with a sweet little girl. It was