Hope

and she put the paper down. She opened the door to her landlord, Howard Burns.
“Hello, Miss Carlson,” he said. “I’ve come for the rent.”
“Oh, I’d forgotten." She picked up her reticule which hung by the door, foraged through it, pulled out the two dollars rent, and handed it to the middle-aged barber.
The man looked her up and down before saying, “I could knock off half the rent if you’d let me get to know you better.” He wiggled his thick eyebrows up and down to let Hope know exactly what he’d meant.
“I’m fine. I plan to get a job this week.”
“The offer stands. Good day.”
Hope closed the door and leaned against it. The man was married and at least forty years old. She wasn’t sure she wanted to marry anyone if all husbands cheated on their wives like Mr. Burns.
Hope set out to find a job in the morning. She visited the bakery, the general store, the flower shop, and the feed and grain store. They all said they weren’t hiring, and one of them had even had a "help wanted" sign in the window. Was it because she was a woman?
When she arrived home, she flopped down on the settee, exhausted. Hope felt something beneath her, and she pulled it out: The Matrimonial News! She tossed it on the floor. How could she ever marry a complete stranger? She wasn’t even sure she wanted to marry, but she was running low on money—she had ten dollars left to her name—and she did desire an adventure.
A knock at the door brought Hope to her feet. She hoped it was Betsy. Hope always loved their chats. Betsy had been her best friend at the orphanage—not only had the job in which the home had placed Betsy work out for her, but she'd met her future husband there.
She opened the door to see Mr. Burns.
“I've already paid the rent.”
The man gave her another lustful look. “I’m here to tell you that as of next month, the rent will be five dollars.”
“Five dollars! That’s outrageous. This is a three-room flat.”
“That’s the price. Rentals are scarce, and I can rent it out for that much easily—unless you accept my previous offer.”
His eyes roamed over her body, giving her the chills.
“I’ll simply find another place to live.”
“Good luck with that,” he said, and went down the stairs. “See you on the first of the month.”
Hope closed the door, scooped up the newspaper from the floor, and took it to her kitchen table. She answered one of the ads, but she remained calm about it since she was only applying. The man would surely get hundreds of replies—sending him a letter wouldn’t bind her to anything.
After she'd written the letter, she walked to the post office, feeling like she’d at least tried to solve her problem. In the meantime, she’d keep looking for work and hunt for another place to live.
The job at the butcher’s shop included Betsy’s living quarters. Since she’d be leaving the job when she married, perhaps they’d hire her. Hope walked to the shop.
Betsy greeted her when she entered. “Howdy, Hope. The pork’s fresh and on sale.”
“Hello, Betsy. I’m not buying today.
Hope moved closer and said in a half-whisper, “I wondered if the owner would hire me in your place after you marry.”
Betsy shook her head. “They’ve already hired another woman from the orphanage. I’m so sorry.”
Hope shrugged. “Anyone I know?”
“Irma Watkins.”
Hope’s shoulders sagged. “I’ll keep looking.”
Betsy leaned over the counter. “Don’t forget that newspaper.”
“I answered the ad you circled, but I don’t know how to cook over an open fire.”
Betsy laughed. “Don’t worry. Edward can teach you.”
“I probably won’t hear from the man anyway, but if I do, I’ll take Edward up on the offer.”
Two weeks later, Hope opened a letter from a man named Callum Butler, and a stagecoach ticket to Independence, Missouri fell into her lap. She hadn’t imagined going to meet him until they’d exchanged a few letters, yet she only had ten dollars in her reticule and next month's rent would take half of it. If she paid the rent for another month, she wouldn’t have enough money to eat.
The orphanage had set her up with a job as a maid for a wealthy family, but it hadn’t worked out since the lady of the house thought her husband had become too fond of Hope. Her next job was at the Horseshoe Saloon, but it only lasted one night since they wanted her to do more than serve beverages.
Hope fingered the letter and ticket. It would solve her landlord problem and her hunt for a job. It would also be an adventure.
After thinking about it for three days, she had Edward show her how to cook over an open fire. Once she’d mastered it, she threw her things into a duffle bag and headed for the stagecoach station. She said goodbye to Betsy at the stagecoach depot with a promise to write when she reached Oregon. Callum Butler had emphasized the necessity of getting to Independence before May first. If all went well, she’d get there a few days before that. If this Callum was good to her, she could easily learn to love him.
When Hope arrived in Independence, she stepped off the stage and waited patiently by the livery with her duffle bag. She’d followed Callum’s instructions and telegraphed him from Casey Creek, the stop before Independence, so he’d know when she would arrive.
Hope held her breath and waited for her future husband to approach her. She silently prayed he wouldn’t be too bad looking and that he’d turn out to be a good husband. Praying was second nature to her from her years in a Methodist orphanage.
Several men looked as though they were approaching her, but