Amy had heard enough.
“I am well and weary of everyone telling me that I am not strong enough to work my own land,” she insisted, adding as she raised a firm finger for emphasis, “This is my ranch, and I plan to tend it. I just need a bit of help, that is all.”
At that moment she felt a slash of pain rip unbidden through her rounded stomach; nearly bringing her to her knees as she gritted her teeth against the agony.
“I wish only that my child would be a bit more cooperative,” she managed through ground teeth, straining to stand upright as her aunt rushed to her side.
“Your child needs a mother who is rested and relaxed,” Grace insisted, adding as she wrapped a supportive arm around her niece’s shoulders, “And as much as I would love to send you to bed and toil in your fields by my lonesome, I simply cannot do so; particularly not when so much of my own work awaits me in my own.”
Amy shrugged.
“Well sadly Auntie, I cannot afford to hire a ranch hand at this point,” she revealed, adding as she cocked her head in her aunt’s direction, “Have you any other ideas?”
Grace looked at her for a long moment, then nodded.
“I do indeed have an idea,” she admitted, adding as she dug deep into the pocket of her soft embroidered denim dress, “You will not like it, but it may indeed be our only hope.”
With these words she produced a weathered newspaper page for Amy’s inspection; unfolding the page to reveal a classified advertisement with an intriguing headline marked mail order bride.
“Ladies,” the ad read, its message conveyed in dark bold letters that shone prominently on the page. “Need you a prince?”
Turning from her aunt in a single bold flourish, a snorting Amy braced her arms before her as she shook her head from side to side in response to these cryptic words.
“I shall not read one more word of that addled fairy tale nonsense,” she declared, adding as she held up a slender hand in the direction of her frowning aunt, “I myself had my own fairy tale—my own enchanted prince.” She paused here, adding as her voice cracked, “Both were fallen and destroyed before my very eyes. Now I have no more need for dreams, Aunt Grace. Dreams die. And so do princes.”
Nodding in tender empathy with these harsh spoken words, Grace placed a gentle hand on her niece’s arm and turned her body towards her; once again holding the newspaper up between them as she told her, “As much as Vance was a very special gentleman, my dear, one that never will be replaced, you must remember that he has left us—never to return, Girl.”
With these words, she squeezed her niece’s shoulder and looked her straight in the eyes.
“You, on the other hand, remain a young woman of great strength and vigor—and, as many have told you, striking beauty,” she praised Amy, adding as she held up the newspaper for her niece’s inspection, “Surely you will not wish to spend the remainder of your days here by your lonesome, with no husband, no lover, no friend or companion. And if you would take only a moment to peruse this gentleman’s advertisement, then you would read of his intellect, his kindness, and his stellar good looks.”
She jumped as her niece met these words with a loud, sharp guffaw.
“And do you truly believe every single word that you read in the pages of the daily paper, Auntie?” she asked Grace, tone snide and disbelieving. “Especially if these words are written in the context of a purchased advertisement?” she paused here, adding as she waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the defenseless newspaper, “If a man posts an advertisement to secure himself a bride, how on earth is he going to word the ad? ‘Howdy Ladies, I am an ignorant, dog ugly, and proudly unkind man in search of a wife. Come one, come all, the line forms to the right’!”
Grace doubled over, guffawing in spite of herself as she considered these comical words.
“All right then Girlie, you are a clever one,” she acknowledged, adding as she arched her eyebrows in what seemed a show of keen curiosity, “What, though, if the gentleman happens to speak the truth in his ad? What if he is indeed as kind and handsome as he claims, and what if he would prove a stellar and highly knowledgeable partner in your own ranching endeavor? Why not, at least, bite the bullet and give the gent a chance?”
Amy shook her head.
“I shall not for one moment entertain the horrid notion of becoming some man’s mail order bride,” she spat out these last words as though they were venom, adding as she planted her hands on her hips, “You well know, Aunt Grace, that my dear departed Ma and Pa raised me to be a proper lady—and an honest, hardworking at that; not a glorified lady of the evening who will exchange her body for room and board.”