Free On the Trail to Moonlight Gulch by Shelter Somerset Page A

to meet face-to-face. Tory considered the entire concept absurd. Flipping through the pages, he couldn’t imagine meeting someone he had found in a periodical. What was the world coming to?
    But hadn’t he done something far worse? Hadn’t he met a man in a cabaret and, without even courting him, lain with him naked in his hotel room? A married man with four daughters, no less? Well, at least he had seen him face to face. An advertisement was so… so impersonal.
    Skimming down the advertisements, he snickered despite his scorn.
    Aged 26, height 5 feet 7 inches, blond hair and blue eyes; considered the most attractive of all my brothers; relatives say I am ideally suited to be a husband. The maiden must have substantial money.
    Lively bachelor of 33, 5 feet 5 inches high, weighing 140 pounds, wanting to correspond with a marriageable young lady between ages 17 and 26; am strong in build and character; mostly American with some French and Norwegian. Lady should be temperate, calm, and like to cook.
    A fine lady seeks man to love, be true to, cherish, honor, and obey. Will never grimace. Pretty and small in waist. No man under 5 feet 5 inches, and must be kind and giving.
    Gentlemen, are you searching for an older woman? I am a widow, age 59, but don’t feel or look a day over 40; 120 pounds, 4 feet 10 inches, brown hair and eyes, Irish/German; cute, kindly, good-hearted, many years of love yet to give; would like to meet someone likewise kindly with a generous disposition. Let’s make a good home.
    “Hey, laddy, you that naff statue they’re building out in New York?”
    Tory jerked up and stared into the narrowed eyes of the rotund vendor with the English accent. “Pardon me?” Tory said.
    “That periodical ain’t no Declaration of Independence for you to hold in your yobby hands. Buy it or bugger off.”
    “I’ll buy it.” Tory slapped five cents into the man’s palm and stuffed the magazine under his jacket. Weaving through the crowd, he made his way to the streetcar for home.
     
     
    B ACK in his bedroom, Tory hungrily perused the periodical. Images of rugged, brawny bachelors living on the wild frontier filled his head. They must be so lonely, he imagined. So lonely and desperate for human affection. Much like him. And the women? Desperate for a husband or an excuse to leave their unhappy families, like Clair Schuster. Some were probably foreign women looking for an easy route to American citizenship. Or bored maidens seeking adventure.
    Muffling his giggles so that his parents would not grow curious, he read more of the advertisements. Hundreds of them. Some short, others lengthy and long-winded enough to make him shake his head at the arrogance and lack of shame.
    He tried to find those advertisements that might contain secret codes. Maybe some of the men sought male companionship. Maybe they had cryptic meanings for those discerning enough. But he’d never heard of such a gimmick. Did people do such things?
    Lonely fellow, long on love and short on stature, seeks someone to keep close to his heart….
    “Someone”? Might that be a hint? Most of the other advertisements were specific. The women sought men; the men sought women. Was this man being purposefully vague? Did “someone” mean a man? It was a long shot the advertisement concealed a coded message.
    He read more of the advertisements, monitoring them for secret meanings. Nothing really jumped out at him. But one in particular touched his heart. Despite the bachelor clearly mentioning he sought a woman, Tory kept coming back to it, rereading the short passage over and over.
    Softhearted, tall, good-looking bachelor, aged 38, looking to correspond with ladies between the ages of 19 and 35. I’m partial to blondes, but you can be of any nationality. Sturdiness and honesty are most important. City life not for me; I like quiet rustic living. Let’s become friends.
    Transfixed by the words, Tory could hardly take his eyes off the fine black