Golden Chances (Borrowed Brides 1)

“I’m af

raid Agnes is right, Hannah,” Temperance admitted, “Most of the women in the South are looking for husbands. I’m afraid there just aren’t enough men to go around. The war has made a lot of widows and left a great many girls waiting at the altar. There will be too many old maids and widows in the years to come.”

“Yes,” Aunt Virt chimed in, “look at Faith. I don’t see any men beatin’ down the door asking to marry her and she used to be considered quite a catch.”

Faith frowned at Virtuous. She knew she was getting older, losing her looks, but she was only twenty-four, not eighty.

“There aren’t many men Faith’s age left around Richmond except Union soldiers and undesirables.” Temperance leaped to Faith’s defense. “Joy has a better chance of marrying a gentleman than Faith does.”

“I agree, Aunt Tempy,” Faith said, “but by that time we’ll all be homeless and hungry.”

“Or dead,” Virt added ominously.

“Like I said,” Faith continued. “What we need is a miracle—and fast.”

“I think we have one,” Hannah Colson said in a voice trembling with excitement. “I think we have it. Look!” She handed Temperance a folded newspaper. “I found it in Major Butler’s overcoat.”

Temperance held the newspaper up to the flickering kerosene lamp and read aloud, “‘Wanted: Healthy woman between the ages of 18-23 to provide for heir for wealthy rancher. Widow with excellent background and lineage preferred. One child acceptable. Must travel to Wyoming and remain for one year. Excellent salary and bonus. Apply in person to David Alexander, Madison Hotel, Washington City, December 20th.’”

“That’s it!” Virt exclaimed. “We have our miracle.”

“Wait a minute,” Faith ordered.

“Yes,” Tempy added, “slow down.”

“What’s the date?” Hannah asked.

“The fourteenth,” Agnes answered quickly.

“Good. That gives us plenty of time to get Faith ready,” Virt replied, matter-of-factly. “She can pretend to be a widow.”

“At least I look the part.” Faith stared pointedly at Virtuous.

She didn’t want to get swept up into their plans to send her to Washington to answer a newspaper ad. Her parents would turn in their graves at the thought. But unless someone else came up with a better idea…

“Faith,” Tempy asked, “you aren’t considering this featherbrained idea, are you?”

She hated to admit she was. The possibilities were going round and round in her mind. It was a chance. A slim one, but a chance just the same. Faith nodded in answer to Tempy’s question.

“Stop right there!” Temperance ordered. “Faith, it isn’t like you to be impulsive. Take time to think this through.”

“I can’t. I might not do it if I give it too much thought,” Faith answered truthfully. Already she could see the drawbacks of the scheme and the ordeal of traveling alone to a distant city full of strangers. “Does anyone have a better idea?”

The ladies all shook their heads—even Tempy, though her brows were knitted into a frown and her mouth was a thin, worried line.

“You must go,” Aunt Virt ordered. “You’re the only one of us who fits the description.”

“For your information, Virtuous May Hamilton Jessup, Faith doesn’t fit the description. She’s over the age limit; she’ll soon be twenty-five and she’s never been married, so she’s a far cry from an experienced widow,” Temperance retorted.

Faith’s heart began to pound. “Joy could go with me. She could pose as my child.”

“You don’t look anywhere near twenty-five,” Aunt Virt said, studying Faith with a critical eye. “You don’t look a day over eighteen.” Virt was quick to see the benefits of a little deception.

“Faith, stop,” Tempy pleaded “You can’t just jump into this.”

“I have to, Aunt Tempy, unless you have a better idea.”

“I don’t, but—”