“I’ve been told this place is full of beautiful women looking for husbands. And how people have come to this town from near and far searching for their one true love. From the stories I’ve heard, a bunch of weddings have taken place in the past few years.”
Lydia chuckled. “That’s true. But most folks attribute that overload of weddings and babies to Homer Gilmore spiking the punch with moonshine. Drinking that stuff made everyone in town look like a desirable catch. There were so many babies born after that incident that more doctors had to be recruited to town just to take care of the overloaded maternity ward.”
He laughed. “Well, I’m not going to rely on anyone spiking the punch again. The way I see it, there’s something about Rust Creek Falls that makes people open their hearts. I’m confident I’m going to find the right woman.”
One that made delicious pies and kept the house spotless while raising a passel of kids. Along with making sure the straightening iron was always hot so that a stray curl in her hair never appeared. Was this guy for real?
He certainly looked real and then some, Lydia thought. In fact, he was a modern-day cowboy dream. But she’d hate to think she had to live up to his standards of a wife. Lydia’s pies were purchased from a bakery, and if she left dirty dishes in the sink overnight, she didn’t take a trip down guilty lane. As for her hair, her time was too precious to waste standing in front of a mirror trying to make herself look like someone she wasn’t. No, if she was ever crazy enough to get herself hooked up with a man, he’d have to take her as is.
She gave him the cheeriest smile she could muster. Even though he was going about finding a wife in all the wrong ways, she still liked him and wished him well. “I’m positive you’ll find her. And with a new edition of the paper coming out tomorrow morning, you might meet her sooner than you think.”
Rising to his feet, he said, “Thank you, Lydia. I appreciate your help.”
“You’re quite welcome. And I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other,” she said, then added, “When you stop by for your mail, that is.”
“Oh yeah, my mail. Let’s hope I get some,” he said with an outrageous wink of one blue eye. “Goodbye for now, Lydia. And thanks again.”
With a parting smile, he strolled out of the office and through the glass door leading to the sidewalk.
Lydia watched him walk to the corner of the intersection, where he waited for the light to change. After he sprinted across the busy street and disappeared behind a row of vehicles, she let out a long sigh, then followed it with a muttered curse word.
How stupid could she get? Time after time her mother had warned her that marriage wasn’t worth the trouble. For years, she’d watched her mother work two jobs just to keep them housed and fed. No, her mother was right, Lydia thought. A man couldn’t be depended on for financial security. Most of all he couldn’t be depended on for love. So she needed to quit dreaming about Zach Dalton and his quest for a bride. Instead, she needed to be thankful she wasn’t his type. In the long run it would save her a broken heart.
“I’ve never seen anything so ridiculous in my life! Advertising for a wife! Who ever heard of such a thing?”
Phillip Dalton tossed the newspaper aside and glanced down the long dinner table until his disapproving gaze landed on his second-youngest son.
Zach tried not to squirm in his chair. Not with his four brothers, two cousins, and an aunt and uncle looking on. “Dad, advertising for a wife isn’t a new concept. Back in the eighteen hundreds during the gold rush days, lots of men used the mail-order-bride system.”
Phillip shook his head with dismay. “That’s right, son. But those men were miles from civilization. They were desperate!”
Across the table, Zach’s brother Garrett let out a smug chuckle. “Zach is desperate, Dad!”
Phillip’s stern expression grew darker. “I realize everything is fun and games to you, Garrett. But this isn’t a laughing matter.”
“Oh, leave the boys alone, Phillip. Zach knows what he wants. He’s just going after it in a different way than you and I did.”
Phillip shot his brother Charles an annoyed look. “Damned right it’s different. You and I did it the traditional way. We fell in love.”
Zach purposely shoveled a forkful of roast beef into his mouth to stop himself from saying something to his father he might later regret.
Next to him, Shawn, the baby of the family, spoke up in his brother’s defense. “Well, I think Zach’s idea is a darned good one. It’s a way for him to meet women who are interested in marriage. He can always worry about falling in love later.”
“Thank you, Shawn,” Zach told him.
Garrett said, “That’s right, Shawn. And maybe Zach will be kind enough to give us some of his leftover telephone numbers.”
At the end of the table, Phillip’s expression turned to stone, while the only female at the table nervously cleared her throat and rose to her feet.
“I think it’s time for dessert,” Rita suggested. “Apple cobbler tonight. Maybe that will put everybody in a good mood.”
Later that night, in the bedroom he shared with his older brother, Zach studied his ad in the fresh edition of the Gazette. His picture looked okay, he supposed. At least his eyes were open and there were no specks of food in his teeth. But he’d be the first to admit his expression was a bit goofy. Like he’d had one too many strong margaritas.
Maybe that was because Lydia Grant had left him a little dazed. Although the woman had seemed warm and friendly, he’d gotten the impression she’d believed his “wife wanted” advertisement was foolish. And that had gotten a bit under Zach’s skin. He couldn’t put his finger on why it had bothered him. Especially when she was clearly a person who followed a different drummer. Her opinion of him shouldn’t matter one way or the other.
So why had he been wondering if the newspaper woman was married or engaged? Why couldn’t he forget about all that curly brown hair or impish smile that tilted her lips and sparked her blue eyes?
“What’s wrong, brother? Having buyer’s remorse?”
As his brother and roommate, Booker, strolled into the room, Zach tossed the paper onto the nightstand.
“I can’t have buyer’s remorse. I haven’t bought anything yet,” Zach reminded him.
Shaking his head, Booker sat down on the opposite twin bed. “You bought an ad. One that you believe will buy you a wife. That’s what I’m talking about.”
Groaning, Zach stretched out on his own bed and stared up at the ceiling. The textured plaster was better than looking at his brother’s know-it-all face. Not that he didn’t love Booker. Zach loved all of his family deeply. But so far none of them seemed to really understand where he was coming from. And being five years older than him, Booker had a tendency to always tell him what to do and how to do it.
“I didn’t hear you spouting off at the dinner table,” Zach said. “Are you in Dad’s
