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A Match for Gabe

By Kimberly Grist

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Chapter 1
Dear Mrs. Sinclair,
I am afraid I require a miracle worker, and your services come highly recommended. Is it possible that you could find a suitable match for a woman rejected by her childhood sweetheart, and replaced in her job by a thirteen-year-old with a sixth-grade education? You have a reputation for having the skills of a fairy godmother. I certainly hope you can wave your magic wand, or in this case, would it be a pen? Please find my perfect Prince Charming.” – Miss Carrie Ann Dixon – Former Teacher

“Perhaps if you hadn’t referred to the chairman of the school board as gully-fluff, things would have ended more amicably.”
Twenty-one-year-old teacher, Carrie Ann Dixon, caught the hint of a slight twitch of his lips before the mouth of her brother Mike pressed into a firm line.
“It was not my best moment, I admit. But I was referring to the chairman’s archaic ideas, not his character. My point was we should offer the opportunity for an education to anyone interested in an extended term,” Carrie lifted her chin and huffed.
“A man’s beliefs and his character go together like a knife and fork. Mr. Wooten’s pride was already smarting from the last board meeting when you brought up your boarding situation.” The ladderback chair creaked as Mike leaned back and took a sip of coffee. A lock of dark hair fell across his furrowed brow, and his azure eyes, so like her own, met hers. Just over fifteen years her senior, Mike’s likeness to their father was uncanny. Even the similarities of his voice blended with memories flooding her mind, making it difficult at times to differentiate between the voice of reason from her big brother and her father’s, who probably shared his opinion.
She closed her eyes and savored the memory of her father hitching his mule as he readied himself for another day of preparing the fields. “God’s aim for your life is the only point worth following. The trick is setting your plow to follow His path and not avoiding risks and then settling in a rut.”
Her brother’s deep baritone called her back to the present circumstances. “The board may never admit it, but no one is blaming you for requesting better living arrangements.”
Carrie winced, struggling not to give in to the desire to scratch the lingering effects of her bout with bed bugs.
“If you hadn’t spoken up, you’d still live in an infested lean-to with a leaky roof.” Her brother’s wife, Myra, huffed as she unsuccessfully attempted to cross her arms over her rounded belly. “I also disagree with the board’s reprimand and believe you should be praised for trying new methods to spark a thirst for learning in the older boys. But since I’m a woman, my opinions don’t matter. Thankfully, your brother made his thoughts known.”
Carrie twisted her napkin in her lap while studying the slight slump in her brother’s shoulders. He was a mountain of a man, already weighted down with responsibilities of the family farm, three children, and another due any day. She hated that she was adding to the load he already bore.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I believe you were within your rights to send the older boys home for causing mischief. Your nieces told us about the snake in your desk and the frogs in the little ones’ lunch pails.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not their teacher.” Myra clucked her tongue. “I’d have taken a wooden spoon and warmed their backsides.”
“I doubt you would need to do more than raise an eyebrow. You command respect when you enter the room.” Carrie giggled at the exaggerated swatting motion Myra made with her hand, then sobered. “I had hoped the students would appreciate my actions as their teacher without threatening punishment.”
“Mark my words—that’s the reason for the board members’ ruffled feathers. That and they’re embarrassed that their own children don’t behave.” Myra stirred a spoonful of honey into her cup. “You have a sunny disposition, but when your temper gets riled, you’re about as approachable as a porcupine.”
“The students can tell when they’ve pushed me too far, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference.” Carrie smoothed an unruly lock of hair behind her ear. “But even if I carried a wooden spoon, I doubt I could strike the correct balance. I’m about as successful at keeping my curly hair confined in a bun as maintaining classroom order, and the board recognizes the fact.”
“I imagine the fact that you’re attractive makes matters worse when it comes to the older male students. Misguided as it may be, many a boy would welcome any attention from a pretty teacher. That is why they’re tripping over their feet and pulling pranks to grab your attention.”
“Spoken like a loyal big brother.” Carrie pulled on the high collar of her gray calico gown. “I can’t imagine anyone finding anything remotely attractive about how I look in this serviceable dress.”
Her brother chuckled. “Spoken like the younger sister who once was more interested in fashion than enriching the minds of her students.”
“Well, those days are long gone.” Carrie stared into her cup. “There were moments of achievement when I thought the children had caught a sense of my vision that learning was an adventure. But those moments were too short and far between. Even so, I’m determined to make a success of things. I don’t think Mama or Daddy would want me to give up this easy.”
“Putting your troubles in the classroom aside, I’ll tell you the same thing your mother would say.” Myra passed a plate of cookies toward Carrie. “The board members may be short-sighted, but you’re pretty and should use that to your advantage. It’s much easier to attract flies with molasses than vinegar.”
“Oh, for goodness sake.” Carrie looked heavenward. “I can’t believe even the men on the board would be so shallow.”
“Don’t misunderstand me. If you can figure out a way to get your point across nicely, it goes a long way with men and women. But sometimes, you have to let a man come around in his own time and let him think your vision was his idea.” Myra’s cheeks pinkened as she looked toward her husband.
“Don’t give away all your secrets, sweetheart. I’d hate to look out the window and find a line of suitors outside our front door.” Carrie’s brother winked, then squeezed Myra’s hand. “Besides, there’s not a single man within fifty miles that I’d want courting my sister.”
Carrie’s gaze wandered between her brother and sister-in-law as they stared into each other’s eyes. Her lips curved upward as she contemplated their relationship. They were a good example of what marriage should be like, loving and supporting one another. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, thinking of her former childhood sweetheart. More than three years ago, Clint had left to make his way west, promising to send for her when he was settled. His letters were constant during the first six months, then trickled to brief notes before finally calling their engagement to an end. “I suppose it’s just as well. Who wants to attract flies anyway?”
“Pish posh, girl, forget the flies. What you need is a husband.” Her sister-in-law reached for a molasses cookie.
“A husband? If my dealings with my former fiancé and the school-board members indicate my ability to get along with men, that’s the last thing I need.” Carrie clasped her fingers together and stared at the tips of her well-worn boots.
“When it comes to love, I’ve been fortunate. But I imagine crop failure is a lot like being let down in matters of the heart. It’s hard to take because so many hopes, dreams, and even a part of a farmer’s soul goes into a crop.” Mike tugged on the sleeve of his checkered shirt. “Even so, adjusting and starting again with each failure is crucial.”
“Why, Michael Dixon, aren’t you the wordsmith! If I didn’t know better, I would say you’ve been listening to me and your wife’s lively discussions about my romance novels.” Carrie giggled at the flush climbing across her brother’s neck and spreading to his cheeks.
“If you two are talking, it’s hard not to listen.” Her brother’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Besides, I’ve been trying to pick up some pointers from that Colonel Brandon fellow.”
“That’s my kind of hero.” Myra chimed in with a giggle. “He would have made a good farmer—steady and determined.”
“True.” Carrie stared into her cup, pondering her family’s mention of the hero in one of her favorite Jane Austin novels. “I would add courageous to the list. Despite his broken heart, he dared to dream again.”
“We’ve been through three planting seasons since that good-for-nothing rascal broke your heart. Don’t you think it’s time to move on, overcome disappointment, and dream again? I know Ma and Pa would encourage you to pursue your desires with the same determination this family has shown by defending this farm for over fifty years.”
“Just because I abandoned one dream doesn’t mean I have lost all hope. I like to think our parents would be happy that I was helping others learn to read and write.” Carrie blinked rapidly. “It’s just unfortunate that I haven’t developed the correct techniques to succeed in the endeavor. But by this time next year, I feel certain I will be more confident.”
“Happiness is like measles and is contagious. In this case, it may take more exposure for your students to come around, embrace the gift, and be grateful.” Myra brushed cookie crumbs off the apron covering her rounded belly.
“Unfortunately, the board isn’t willing to give you more time. They feel you are too lively and progressive.” Mike cleared his throat. “They’ve already voted to hire Mr. Wooten’s daughter to serve as the new teacher next year.”
“The board wants to replace me with a thirteen-year-old?” Carrie sucked in a deep breath. “If I had trouble with the older boys, I can’t imagine how that poor child will handle things.”
“She’ll be fourteen by the time school starts again.” Mike shrugged. “But it doesn’t hurt that as the chairman’s daughter, boarding won’t be an issue because she will live at home.”
Her sister-in-law squeezed her hand. “Now, don’t you worry. The girls will happily share their room with you again. This is your home, and we want you to know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”
“Thank you. But you two have already done so much for me. I’m capable of making my way and just need to find another teaching position.” Carrie blew out her cheeks as she considered moving back into the crowded loft with her rambunctious nieces. While her boarding situation had not been ideal, at least the lean-to had given her some degree of privacy. But what other option did she have? The spare bedroom that once belonged to her now housed her three-year-old nephew and soon another new baby. “Besides, your habit of counting your blessings has expanded in a literal sense. Your home is nearly bursting at the seams.”
Her brother’s gaze followed hers as it rested on his wife’s expanding belly. He pulled on his ear. “Let’s take a minute to consider your options. You’re a lot like Ma in some ways: cheerful, keen, and always hungry for knowledge. Not like Pa and me. If we sat long enough to pick up a book, we’d soon be asleep.” Mike chuckled.
For a moment, Carrie caught a glimpse of the young man with a quick smile, who once seemed so carefree before the untimely death of their parents. Newly married, he’d taken on the responsibilities of raising a teenage sister, tending the family farm, and raising his family with sacrificial love. Lord, the last thing Mike needs is to worry about me.
“You are an intelligent young woman who benefitted from being the long-awaited daughter of devoted parents. The education you received by Ma’s hand is something to be admired. If you were a man, there’s no telling what you could do. As chatty as you are, you’d probably make a good lawyer or politician.” Mike rubbed the back of his neck. “But like it or not, you’re a woman, and even though your points are valid, if you want to be a teacher, you’re going to have to find a way to tame your tongue.”
“Tame my tongue, indeed.” Carrie crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “You have no idea how often I’ve kept my opinions to myself, hoping to find common ground with the board members. I feel in my heart they have the children’s best interest in mind and understand the value of my suggestions, but are too stubborn to admit it.”
“This is a rural community, and the school year must coincide with the demands of the field.” Mike stared out the window past the weathered barn. Carrie followed his gaze, and her eyes rested on acres of farmland already changing color and showing signs of bolls of cotton beginning to crack and hint at the fluffy white fiber inside. Her brother continued. “Farming is a difficult life, and children play a vital role in planting and bringing in crops. However, it’s up to the individual families to make sure their children keep up with their studies when school’s not in session.”
“Which was why I suggested that the second term begin in late fall, after harvest time.” Carrie ran her thumb across the callouses on her hand, a physical reminder of years of experience dragging sacks of cotton across the field at harvest time. She understood full well what it meant to be a farmer’s daughter, the sweat and toil resulting in bloody hands caused by the sharp spikes of cotton. “I still believe my idea has merit. The children’s progress will continue to be limited if school is only open for four months out of the year.”
“It’s a luxury the community doesn’t believe they can afford. They see more benefits to the children working on the farm to ensure there’s food on the table.” Her brother’s rough, calloused hand squeezed hers. “Unfortunately, you will need to make a similar decision.”
“That’s it then. The board doesn’t want me to finish the school term?”
“Correct, and effective immediately, you will no longer be compensated for room and board or paid a salary,” Mike added. “I know you want to teach, but even if you could find another position, most communities won’t open schools again until next August.”
“If only I had a penny for every time things didn’t work out as planned.” Myra removed a newspaper clipping from her apron pocket. “It’s a blessing, if you ask me. What you need is to revisit your desire for your own home. There’s a world of opportunities—thousands of men out west who need a wife.”
One side of Carrie’s mouth lifted. She studied her sister-in-law as she rambled on about the merits of a matchmaker to whom she was acquainted. Perhaps they were similar in their plain speaking, but Myra had a way of making her point without it sounding harsh. Or maybe it wasn’t her approach at all, but rather the feeling Myra sparked in her heart through her actions, sending a message of encouragement.
Her sister-in-law was her greatest supporter. When she took the position as the teacher for the community three months ago, Myra and her daughters helped her scrub the floors and sweep out the cobwebs in the one-room log cabin located in the middle of a cotton field. Despite already being heavy with child, she’d also lent her assistance a few hours a week by helping with the younger students while Carrie attempted to engage the minds of the older boys.
Carrie sighed. Unfortunately, her methods failed, and despite her high hopes that children were as thirsty to learn to read and write as she had been, with few exceptions, she had been wrong. Although a few students had shown interest initially, they quickly became more interested in the antics of the older boys, who drew attention away from the fact that their reading level wasn’t much better than her youngest students.
“My friend Becky used a matchmaker out of Chicago, and she’s been happily married for more than ten years.”
Carrie forced her attention back to Myra, whose cheeks flushed with excitement.
“I don’t know how she does it, but the woman has an excellent reputation with hundreds of happily married couples who sing her praises. The way she tells it, it’s almost like Becky was Cinderella and the matchmaker was her fairy godmother.”
“A little bit of magic would come in handy about now.” Carrie looked heavenward. “But something tells me becoming a mail-order bride is about as far away from a fairy-tale ending as I can imagine.”
“It’s not like you to be a Negative Nellie.” Myra’s eyes twinkled as she added a spoonful of honey to her cup. “Of course, you could stay here in Robins, Georgia, and marry Harvey Ponder. He’s the most eligible bachelor in the county.”
Her brother choked on a sip of coffee. “Harvey is twice Carrie’s age and has five children.”
“He’d be as proud as a peach to have a pretty gal like Carrie Ann at home to raise his three little ones. After they finished their chores, I expect he’d let you spend all the time you want teaching all five to read and write.” Myra elbowed Carrie playfully. “What could be more perfect? You’d have the best of both worlds—to be a wife, mother, and teacher all at once.”
“I think I would love being a wife and mother, but not to a man twice my age who already has five children.” Carrie traced her finger along the newspaper clipping, an advertisement promoting the skills of a matchmaker in Chicago. “Maybe part of my problem is, deep down, I want to marry for love.”
“There’s many a marriage that started out with mutual respect and friendship. The making of a good marriage involves seeking divine guidance and allowing the Lord to bless you with His choice for a spouse. After that, love is the choice you make to put your spouse’s happiness ahead of your own.” Her brother reached for the newspaper clipping. “But I don’t like to think about you moving so far away to marry a stranger.”
“In light of the fact that there’s not a single man under the age of forty within fifty miles, why shouldn’t your sister consider a matchmaker?” Myra passed a plate of cookies to her husband and then turned her attention back to Carrie. “According to my friend, the woman has a talent that could only be heaven-sent. All that is required is for you to complete a questionnaire that includes details about what you’re looking for in a husband. Then, based on the information provided, the matchmaker will pick someone who will suit your needs.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to write the woman. But it will be a short letter.” Carrie bit her lip to hide a grin. “Rejected bride and teacher seeks a husband willing to overlook her failures and be her Prince Charming, ready to rescue her from her fate.”
“Be sure and add your lack of disciplinary skills, so you won’t attract a widower with a ready-made family.” Her brother chuckled. “Otherwise, you’ll be better off staying here and marrying Harvey Ponder.”
“You two are like two kernels on a corncob. Now hush your teasing and be serious.” Myra tapped her finger along her cheek. “Carrie is a lovely, well-educated young woman whose desire to be a teacher didn’t turn out as planned. She loves to cook, is a good seamstress, keeps a level head during emergencies, and would make an excellent wife and mother.”
“As long as her husband can put up with her sassy ways and tendency to have her nose in a book, I imagine she’ll do.” Her brother snickered as he polished off a cookie. “Seriously though, you should mention that you hate milking cows and feeding the chickens, and that irrational fear you have of horses.”
“It’s not an irrational fear.” Carrie rubbed her forearm absently. “Besides, horses don’t like me.”
“Horses are smart animals and sense your anxiety. If I had it to do all over again, dislocated shoulder and all, I would swing you up in the saddle immediately after you took that fall.” Her brother pulled on his ear.
“I will take your advice and clarify that any man contemplating marriage with me must know that he’s to be forever saddled by a wife who can’t hitch up a wagon and refuses to tend to the horses. I will lay all the blame at my brother’s feet for spoiling me,” Carrie giggled. “No pun intended.”
“Not all men are as obliging as your brother.” Carrie’s sister-in-law tilted her head back and laughed. “But there’s bound to be a business owner who will appreciate your head for figures.”
“I suppose it is senseless to seek another position as a teacher, especially since I don’t enjoy it nor have a knack for it.” Carrie took in a deep breath, determination rising in her heart. Why shouldn’t she attempt to achieve her own happily ever after? “I like the idea of helping my husband with his books.”
“That’s the spirit.” Then Mike shook his head. “I can't believe I’m encouraging you in this, but you’ve wasted three years of your life mooning over that good-for-nothing former fiancé. I like seeing a hint of the starry-eyed sister I once knew who thought love could conquer all.”
“If this woman is as good as Myra’s friend says she is, maybe there’s a little magic to it.” Carrie felt her heart lift as she considered the opportunity. “No offense, brother, but I’ve picked enough cotton to last me a lifetime. While I’d love the opportunity to live in town, I would be equally happy with a rancher looking for companionship.”
“I imagine ranch work is as difficult as farming. But I can't see a man writing for a wife if he’s in need of a cowpoke.” Her brother scratched his chin. “Then again, he might require someone to cook for his ranch hands. Are you prepared to do that?”
“I don’t mind cooking as long as I have a cookstove.” Carrie tapped her finger along her cheek, pondering the last letter her fiancé had written, saying she would be better off in Georgia because she would find the west too untamed and lonely. “The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of marrying a rancher who needs my help and wants companionship.”
“You’ll need to mention in your letter that you don’t ride, and your skills are more of a domestic nature.” Myra reached for another cookie. “These baked goods are a testament to the fact.”
Carrie straightened her shoulders. “The more I ponder it, the better I like this plan. My experience here on the farm should at least partially prepare me for life on a ranch. A lonely rancher and I should go together like dandelions and daydreams.”

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