“What made you come here?” Mrs. Gilbert asked as she wrote with a pencil on a piece of paper in front of her.
It was an easy question, and a hard one at the same time. He settled for saying, “I like horses and thought I wanted to work a ranch.”
“You were a cowboy?”
Roman decided that not much got past Mrs. Gilbert. He nodded, and added quickly, “But I realized that wasn’t the life for me. I prefer something more settled. Something I can make my own.”
She nodded approvingly, and he felt as if he’d passed some sort of test in school.
Mrs. Gilbert tapped her pencil on the desk. “Our service is different because Mrs. Young and I want to place advertisements only for men of good quality and high moral standards. You see, we want to assure the women who answer these ads that the men placing them are good, honest men who are able to provide for them. It’s asking a lot, you know, to give up your entire life, travel to a place you’ve never been, and take a chance on someone you’ve never met.”
Roman consciously tried not to shift in his chair. He had the strangest feeling, as if he were sitting at his mother’s table, about to hear a lecture on his poor choices and wayward path in life.
Except, he wasn’t that man anymore. He hoped Mrs. Gilbert could see that.
“Normally, I’d be skeptical of a cowhand, but you’ve started a good business here. My husband speaks highly of you, and you seem to be of a good nature.”
Roman let out a shaky breath, hoping Mrs. Gilbert didn’t see how nervous she’d made him.
She straightened her pencil. “Now, tell me what sort of lady you’d like to meet.”
He hadn’t thought much on that, beyond vague imaginings of someone soft and pretty with an easy smile and—of course—the ability to make something more edible than Jeremiah’s gruel. He rambled on, letting Mrs. Gilbert fill in the gaps for him.
“I’ll send this up to Mrs. Young on the next train,” Mrs. Gilbert said as she stood. “We’re planning to get the advertisements printed and mailed to various cities back East by next week, which means you ought to be receiving some correspondence soon.”
Roman paid for the advertisement and thanked Mrs. Gilbert. He left the hotel with her husband, who thankfully talked of everything but what had just happened.
By the time he reached the livery, Roman was smiling at nothing at all. What sort of lady might write to him? What would he do if he received multiple letters? The thought felt so absurd, he almost laughed aloud, right there in the muddy street in front of his business.
He glanced at the mountains to the west, towering over the depot and the large hotel. They seemed even more magnificent than normal, their snow-covered peaks glistening in the sunlight. In fact the day felt warmer and the air even more clear and crisp.
If all went well, he might be a married man by the end of summer. A married man with a successful business and with good standing in a new town.
Now that was something to write home about.
Chapter Two
