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Horace Greeley almost stunted the growth of a nation when he encouraged "Go West, young man, go West and grow up with the country." Sadly, he forgot to tell ‘em to take a girl.

Maybe that’s why single men struggled to connect with single women beyond the wide Missouri. Putting an ad in the classifieds was a matchmaking solution and extra money in Horace’s pocket. A lonely cowpoke would promote his goods and offer a ticket to a distant land. An eligible bride might respond with a letter or picture, and the mail-order courtship was on.

Desperate times demanded desperate measures. A soulmate could ease the loneliness. Extra hands would lessen the workload. Giving up a dollar or two for the ad might hurt for a while, but it offered possibilities.

The potential bride had to be tough. An untamed land demanded that she plant and harvest, clean and cook, and saddle her horse if she wanted to visit Miss Kitty. Handling a Hawken rifle might take a little practice.

The Old West was a primitive land. Did you know that the stoves didn’t even have thermometers? If the woman wanted to bake, she had to stick her hand inside the oven to gauge the heat. - Harry S. Truman supposedly coined the phrase, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.” He may have borrowed that one.

Now I never considered using the paper for a wife search or dreamed of finding a tenacious woman like I did. In a world of hot-potato relationships, I was tossed and dropped so many times that I couldn’t have picked up a pencil if I’d wanted to. Romance left me dizzy and bruised. When the music stopped, the dating games ended, and my heart was stolen by a fragrant soul.

Being cute and smelling pretty were included in the dowry, so I married above my pay grade. Her long, brown hair and sour apple perfume overwhelmed me. Like a Pecos Bill wannabe, I howled at the moon on date night. Sometimes the excitement was so overbearing that I yipped and wagged my tail. Her father frowned when I did that.

Fortunately, I caved in to that fruity scent, and my wooing ways were over. That was long ago, but she hasn’t aged like I have. These days I’d probably have to be nose to nose to tell the color of her eyes, and I’ve grown more interested in aroma than attar. Except for Evening of Paris, the bouquets of barbecue and pan-fried chicken have become more inviting than earlobe oils.

Yes, I put a ring on the finger of a culinary genius, and I bought her an electric stove with temperature controls. She reads, loves history, and likes to travel. She’s a good mom and made to order for me. What a deal! I got what I needed and didn’t have to put anything in writing until after the wedding.

Had I lived in the Old West, I might have spent money on advertising just like the frontiersmen did. Sharing sourdough bread and chokecherry jam at the corral and counting tumbleweed by starlight with a matrimonial sidekick would have been enticing. Just thinking about a love like that brings a tear to my eye.

In a weak moment my marry-me ad might have read:

Wanted: Wife who can plow all week and still smell like a prairie flower. Must be creative in kitchen. Cabin has Charter Oak Stove and cowpie supply. Prefab privy on order. Send cookie and preserve samples if interested. I like bread and butter. I like toast and jam. P.S. Preferred: Green-eyed lady, lovely lady

I know. I know. Green eyes are a bit rare, but I’ve grown accustomed. I guess I’m just a romantic. I don’t why, but I believed in love at first sight … or second … or tenth. I wanted to see and hear the person I would spend a lifetime with before the proposal.

So, the whole concept of a mail-order missis boggles my mind. I can’t fathom sticking my hand in the oven to see if it’s warm enough, and I can’t understand building relationships through dating apps or Facebook. Using the classifieds sounds even worse. What a long shot!

But let’s face it, Pardners, how a man found a wife isn’t as important as how he keeps her, so just hold your horses and think about this. Zig Ziglar’s marriage advice would have worked just as well for cowboys as it does for modern men. He had a sense of rapport when he said, “If you treat your wife like a thoroughbred, you'll never end up with a nag.”

An occasional "Howdy, ma" and treating the missis with respect and care will naturally bring out the best in her … and her cooking.