Author's note: before reading the prompt, you might want to read the article I've pasted here: https://pastebin.com/qf4UkXdf. It's pretty interesting, and the basis of this prompt.

He'd put the finishing touches to the piece just fifteen minutes before the stagecoach had swept out of town, ready to deliver it to Lord only knew where; he'd struggled with it a lot, lacking the learning of words his ma had had- taking more after his pa in the ways of writing- but he'd done it eventually. He hadn't even really planned to write it, but on his latest trip into the general store, he'd overheard Pete Oakley talking to Jake Withers about how he'd found himself a pretty little bride from out East- about how she'd fled West after some kind of scandal, and that suited Pete just fine, seeing as how he was of a scandalous nature himself.

He- he, that is, not Pete- had decided to try writing a piece for the paper, in the hopes he might find himself a bride. It wasn't to say there weren't any single women of an eligible nature in Serenity Falls- there were, very definitely- but try as he might he just couldn't bring himself to think of them in a romantic way- hell, he'd seen half of them grow from children into the beauties they were. No, he'd had his lady troubles aplenty, and he figured that maybe if he looked a little ways away, he might find himself some lass to keep him company on a cold night. He didn't really care what she looked like- if she was blonde, brunette, redhead, or bald- or even if she had the kind of figure he liked. He lacked companionship, company, conversation, and those weren't exactly things he could buy from Mackenzie McCoy at the feed store.

Even with his plan in motion, it had taken him a long time to think of the words to put into it- he'd never been all that good with words, like his pa. His ma had been the one to talk real pretty, though he had followed her a little- he could think of the things to say, but somehow they never reached his mouth quite right.

He'd resorted to asking the pastor for help, in the end, and the schoolmarm too- they both knew him, knew him to be good and kind, and a decent man, and they'd obliged. They'd helped him whittle, write, refine, and in the end, he'd come up with something half decent:

'Good morning, ma'ams and misses. My name is Abraham J Lowell, of Serenity Falls, AZ. I am a single man of some thirty two years, and a ffarmer by trade. Some dairy, some crops. I am looking for a young woman of eligible marrying age to become my wife. She should know how to cook and clean, how to make a man feel loved, and be able to conversate at length on many topics. She should be real pretty and have a nice voice. If interested please write to Mr A. Lowell, Serenity Falls, Ca, c/o Mr M. McCoy, McCoy's Mercantile Market, Main Street, Serenity Falls, AZ.

The letter had been printed in the following issue of the paper- he'd known, because he'd received a copy of it from his cousin out in New York, and from his sister down in California- and he'd settled in to wait patiently for the bride he knew would come to him.

Okay, so! First off, I have no idea how much of that is factually correct; I'm English, and all my knowledge comes from old Westerns, so insert shrug emoticon dude here. That said, I think this is pretty open-ended, with lots of potential.
Do they live happily ever after, with a sweet little vanilla romance? Does she write to him for a lark, only for him to come claim her and not take no for an answer? Is she escaping some sort of sexual scandal? Is she an aging spinster of twenty-two, resigned to a life with no husband? The possibilities are possibly endless!

As usual with my plots and shit, no blood, gore, or bodily fluids, no underage shit or animals, no time-inappropriate kinks, and...I think that's it.

Thoughts, questions, replies?