Janette Oke - A Bride for Donnigan

It was in this same dark mood that Donnigan confronted Lucas Stein. He had made inquiry and been told that the little man was busy in his office at the hotel. Donnigan shook the dust from his clothes the best he could and went in search of the man.

His knock on the heavy oak door brought a gruff growl, “Come in.” But when the man lifted his head from the ledger and saw Donnigan before him, his scowl disappeared. “Harrison,” he greeted. “Come in.”

The change of tone was not lost on Donnigan. He did not regard the man as a friend in particular, but they got on well enough.

“Howdy, Lucas,” he said, hoping that his tone held none of the agitation he was feeling.

“Sit down. Sit down,” offered Lucas, indicating a dark leather chair. Donnigan did not have to cast aside broken bridles or other clutter. Lucas kept his office fastidiously.

Donnigan lowered himself slowly to the chair and wondered if he should spend time in small talk or just blurt out the reason for his trip to town. Lucas helped him decide.

“How’re your crops doing?”

Donnigan’s attention was easily diverted to his farm. He recalled the ride of the morning and his pleasure in seeing the crops grow taller and more mature by the day. He thought again of his herds and couldn’t hide the glow in his eyes or lilt in his voice.

By the time Lucas had asked all the right questions and gotten Donnigan’s enthusiastic responses, the men had conversed for some minutes.

“There are times I wish I had taken up farming,” said Lucas, and Donnigan thought that he sounded sincere. “It would be so much more enjoyable to count calves and foals than spend my time adding up these miserable columns in this ledger.” Lucas gave the ledger pages a disgusted flip of his hand.

“Well, a farmer—especially if he’s on his own like me—has to keep a few ledgers, too, if he wants to keep things in order,” Donnigan assured him and thought again of his reason for being there.

“Yeah—I reckon,” Lucas responded. “Be a much better world if one wasn’t so tied to balancing the books.” He sighed.

There was a moment’s pause and Donnigan judged it to be a good time to voice his concern.

“Stopped by to see Wallis,” he said, and watched carefully for a response from Lucas. “He’s in a big hurry to raise some money. Offered to sell me a couple of his young sows.”

Lucas nodded, but the expression on his face did not change.

“Seems to have the notion that—that—well, he seems to have the misunderstanding that he can order himself a wife,” Donnigan finished hurriedly and watched Lucas closely.

The man sat toying with the pencil he held in his hands. His head came up and he looked straight at Donnigan. “No misunderstanding,” he said flatly, his expression still the same.

Donnigan felt his pulse beat faster. He willed his annoyance to stay in check.

“He thinks you told him that he’d just have to raise passage money and send off for one,” he continued in an injured tone.

Lucas looked back down at the pencil. “Didn’t he show you the paper?” he asked calmly.

“What paper?”

“The newspaper with the advertisement.”

Donnigan remembered then that Wallis had mentioned a newspaper, but in his excitement he had not produced it nor had he said anything about an advertisement.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Well, it’s right there in the paper,” went on Lucas.

“Then someone has prepared a—an elaborate hoax,” declared Donnigan hotly.

“No hoax. I checked it out thoroughly. It’s all quite true and legal,” said Lucas calmly, rolling the pencil back and forth in his hands.

“Now just one minute,” declared Donnigan, leaning slightly forward. “Are you trying to tell me that the paper says you can send off for a wife just like Wallis told me and—and just order one in?”

Lucas nodded. “Something like that,” he replied.

Donnigan’s hand slapped down on his knee, making the dust lift and drift in a little cloud in the otherwise spotless room. He did not apologize, though he did feel a measure of regret.

“You order one? Like a—a piece of—of merchandise?” The thought was incredulous.

“Now just hold on, Harrison,” said Lucas, and for the first time his eyes held some emotion. “It’s not like you’re making it sound.”

“Then what is it like?” asked Donnigan, his face flushed.

Lucas laid aside his pencil and leaned forward. “It gets awfully lonely on the frontier,” he explained as though he were talking to a child. Donnigan stirred restlessly in his chair, an expression of disgust and annoyance threatening to escape his lips.

“We need wives. We deserve a wife just as much as the next guy. But where do we get one? I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to head off to the city to pick me up some painted dance-hall girl. I want a real wife. One who will be a fitting mother for my children. One who will be around to share life—not one who flirts a little bit and will run off with the next guy who comes along.”

“And how do you know—?” began Donnigan.

“How do you ever know?” cut in Lucas.

Donnigan knew that Lucas had read his mind—was ready with the answer to his unasked question. How did one ever know if a marriage would be a good one? One that would bring happiness to both partners?

Donnigan took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. For a moment the two men sat in silence, eyeing each other coolly. Then Donnigan asked his last question. “And the women—what about them?”

Lucas straightened in his chair, but his face did not flush as he again looked straight into Donnigan’s eyes.

“They come out of need—mostly. For some, adventure. Or because they wish to better their circumstances. And we aren’t fooling ourselves. Some of them come hoping to marry a rich man. But regardless of why they come, no one coerces them. They come voluntarily—of their own free will.”

“You say ‘they come’ just as though—as though it has been done over and over,” Donnigan observed.

“It isn’t new, if that’s what you’re thinking. Many young women, and a few older ones, have already come to America as wives for—for the many men who would otherwise not—not have one.”

“And it works?” Surprise edged his voice at this unheard-of method for finding a wife.

“Very well—in many circumstances. I checked it out myself.”

Donnigan should not have been surprised. Lucas was not a man to plunge blindly into any new venture.

Donnigan straightened his broad shoulders and agitatedly tapped the fingers of his right hand on his leg. He shook his head slowly, but the fire was gone from his eyes, his voice.

“I don’t know,” he said at length. “It just doesn’t seem right somehow.”

“Don’t judge too quickly—or too harshly,” the man behind the desk said, reaching for his pencil again. “It is simply a matter of two people—both with needs—taking advantage of circumstances to meet the needs of both.”

“You really see it—” began Donnigan.

“I really do,” the older man assured him. “I could sit here and wait until I’m an old man—and never have a family of my own. Or—” He flicked the pencil in his fingers and let the sentence hang in midair.

Donnigan rose slowly to his full height. He lifted his hat from the floor where he had tossed it and turned it round and round in his hands.

“So you think Wallis is right to get himself a wife—?” began Donnigan.

Lucas nodded. “He has as much right to happiness as the next fellow,” he answered evenly.

“But his place is—”

“I know,” said Lucas. “Maybe she’ll clean it up.”

“But it’s not fit—” Donnigan started.