Kirsten Osbourne [Osbourne - Abner’s Adventure

C atherine wiped the side of her face. A streak of black grease appeared on her hand, and she rubbed it on her skirt. No matter how hard she tried, she hadnt felt truly clean in years.

After the family business had gone up in smoke, claiming the lives of her father, mother, and brother, the bank had called in on a loan her father had taken out. Penniless, Catherine had to begin working at a local textile factory.

Sometimes she dreamed about life back on her familys estate even though she knew it was pointless. She had no prospects for the future: no one would want to marry her. She would continue to work, hoping to earn enough money to put food on the table, and grow old alone.

Back to work! the foreman called. Catherine tucked her sooty handkerchief back in her pocket and returned to her sewing machine. She settled back into the routine of work. At least she had a job, she mused. She couldnt imagine being cast off into the streets. She didnt understand how her parents money had evaporated so quickly. Something about debtors and credits, that was all she had been told.

Catherine lost herself in her work so completely that she didnt realize Mrs. Thatcher was standing in front of her. A robust woman with a twinkle in her eye, she waved a silk handkerchief back and forth in front of Catherines face.

Excuse me, Catherine said, embarrassed. Hello, Mrs. Thatcher. The wife of the foreman treated Catherine and the other girls who worked in the factory with kindness and respect.

I need a word with this one, Mrs. Thatcher told her husband authoritatively. Walter Thatcher frowned but nodded.

Catherine looked up at Mrs. Thatcher, questioning her hearing. You need a word with me? What could the dignified foremans wife want with her in the middle of a workday?

Mrs. Thatcher merely smiled. She turned around, and Catherine stood up and followed her into a small office covered in papers. Mrs. Thatcher looked Catherine up and down. Yes. I think youll do quite nicely. The older woman made a note on one of her papers.

Excuse me, maam, what is this about? Catherine felt bewildered. Have I done something wrong?

Mrs. Thatcher chuckled. No, my dear. I have an opportunity for you.

For me? Catherine could scarcely believe her ears.

Mrs. Thatcher nodded. I have a dear friend in Texas. I know her from my days in Seattle.

You lived in Seattle? Catherine asked. She didnt know how this had anything to do with her.

Mrs. Thatcher was a busy woman, and she did not like to waste time. It was a long time ago. How would you like to be matched with a young suitor from Texas?

Catherine blinked. Excuse me, maam?

My friend is starting a mail order matchmaking business. I understand from my husband that you have excellent manners and that you seem to be well-raised. Theres a young gentleman in Texas looking for a wife, and I think you might be just right. Mrs. Thatcher looked at her watch. If you agree, well have to hurry, but theres a train you can catch. And if you disagree, well, its back to the factory floor.

Catherine took a deep breath. What Mrs. Thatcher was offering her seemed impossible. The chance to get married... perhaps to even start a family of her own! It was something Catherine hadnt even allowed herself to dream about since the deaths of her parents and brother.

On the other hand, she didnt know a single thing about her prospective husband. What if he was ill-tempered or cruel? She also didnt know anything about Texas. Was it foolish to travel to a faraway place she had never been before? She didnt know a soul in the state. Then again, she reflected, she didnt really know anyone in Massachusetts either. Since the fire, all of her parents so-called friends had ignored her, treating her like she didnt exist.

Well? Mrs. Thatcher asked, looking at the clock again.

Catherine nodded slowly. Yes, Mrs. Thatcher. Ill do it.

E dna Petunia! You have a visitor! Cletus Sanders howled from the entry to the large house.