Marni's Measure (Brides 0f Pelican Rapids Book 4)

by Danni Roan

  Danni Roan

  Marni’s Measure

  Brides of Pelican Rapids

  By

  Danni Roan

  Fed up with the constant barrage of men trying to win her hand to gain access to her productive grist mill, Marni Simms is determined to leave town on her own terms. When she finally has to admit that her wartime husband will not return, she determines that a new town and a new start is just what she needs. Will moving to Pelican Rapids and meeting with the town matchmaker be the answer she is looking for, or will she simply settle into a quiet life on her own?

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Copyright © 2019 by Danni Roan All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. FIRST EDITION https://authordanniroan.com

  “Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full—pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back.” Luke 6:38

  Chapter 1

  Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit. Matthew 7:17

  Marilynn Simms slipped the heavy apron over her head and hung it on a peg by the door. Picking up her tiny whiskbroom, she brushed the day’s worth of flour dust and cornhusks from the dark fabric of her protective garb and prepared to leave.

  For the past five years, Marilynn had been the sole proprietor and staff of the Vale Hollow Grist Mill. When Marni, as her friends and family called her, had married her longtime sweetheart Jordan, before the war started seven years earlier, she had taken over her husband’s job as the miller, ensuring that the town and surrounding counties had a way to mill their grains into usable flour.

  Vale Hollow, a small town that sat directly in the pass that wound its way through the valleys of Tennessee, was the perfect area for a prosperous mill. The weather was generally mild, and enough streams, rivers and roads came through the area to make it a practical location for local farmers to bring their wheat or corn for processing.

  Checking that the gears and levers were all locked down and that the heavy stone covering over the grinding stone was clamped, Marni pushed open the door and stepped into the fading light of late afternoon.

  Breathing deeply of the sweet air, she closed her eyes for a moment soaking in the sound of the racing stream, and deep green trees that surrounded her little vale. As a bright ray of sunlight broke through the canopy of green Marni turned her face toward the sun and sighed.

  It had been five long years with no word at all from Jordan, and in her heart, she knew that he was gone. The man she loved would have returned by now if he were still alive, and as much as it pained her heart, she had to accept the truth. Jordan had joined the rest of his family on Heaven’s golden shore, even if his name had never been formally listed on the register of the dead, there was no doubt in Marni’s mind that he would never return and that she was completely alone in the world.

  “Marni,” a craggy voice called and Marilynn groaned inwardly. “Marni, my dear,” a tall lean man in a dark frock coat and high-heeled boots approached, a smile plastered across his sunken face. “I thought I would walk you home,” Mr. Gardner finished stepping up to her and offering his arm, as his walking stick thumped the ground.

  “I am perfectly able to see myself home,” Marni said, her dark brown eyes flashing at the man’s presumptuousness. “You can go home Mr. Gardner,” she added scowling at the shriveled old man who jutted out his pointed chin.

  “Now, now, my dear,” the man crooned, his oily voice making Marni feel like she needed a wash in the cold mountain stream. “A young woman like yourself should not be closed away in a nasty old grist mill all day. If you’d consent to marry me, you could live in a big house with servants and never have to work again. All of this tedious labor is giving you gray hair.”

  Mr. Gardner looked up at the smudges of white in Marni’s mahogany locks, reaching for the offending color but she brushed his hand away before he touched them.

  “Mr. Gardner,” Marni said, straightening her shoulders. “Go home. I will not marry you, nor will I sell you the Mill. This is my home and my choice. Jordan placed me in charge, and I will determine what is right for my life.”

  “You should marry me,” the infuriating man insisted, waggling a bony finger in front of her nose.

  “No,” Marni stated flatly and stepped out on her own so quickly the old man couldn’t keep up. “And do not follow me or I will call the constable.”

  Behind her, Marilynn could hear the grumbled frustration of one of her most persistent admirers. She knew the man only wanted control of the prosperous mill and had no real interest in her as a woman. She was also sure that if he ever got his grubby fingers on the mill, he would either run it into the ground or increase charges so much that local farmers wouldn’t be able to use it.

  “Mrs. Simms,” another voice beckoned as Marni stepped out into the path that led toward her small house on the outskirts of town. This time it was Mr. Forsikes and she knew before he opened his mouth again what he would say. “You look lovely,” the man spoke, falling into step with her. “Pretty as a picture as always.”

  “Mr. Forsikes, I am not selling the mill, and I will not marry you. You ask me every evening on my way home and the answer is still no.”

  “I was only paying you a compliment,” the portly man said, mopping his bald pate with a handkerchief. “Can’t a man say something nice to a neighbor anymore?” he finished with a haughty sniff.

  “You can do as you please,” Marni said, “but the answer is still the same. You have been hounding me for the past six months to marry you, and like the others, you are interested in nothing but resting the mill from me. I am not interested.”

  “But Mrs. Simms, think of the life you could have. Instead of living in that old stone cottage at the edge of town, you could live in a grand house, sipping tea, and eating bon-bons all day long.”

  Marni stopped, placing her hands on her hips and meeting the man’s beady eyes. “I do not want to live in a big house, sipping tea, and eating bon-bons all day,” she said, her voice sharp and clipped. “I want to be left alone to run the mill. Now if you will excuse me, I am going home.”

  “One of these days you’ll change your mind,” the older man called after her straightening the heavy jacket that no longer buttoned across his middle. “Mark my words.”

  Marni lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and continued her march toward home. She was weary of the constant badgering of ambitious men in the town. When the War Between the States had ground to an end, and Jordan hadn’t returned, the string of gentleman callers had grown as suitor after suitor vied for her attention and ownership of the mill.

  “If only you had come home Jordan,” she
whispered as she made the final turn toward her little house. As the days and weeks of her husband’s absence had grown into years, Marni had rented the larger house near the mill to a family and had moved into the home her mother-in-law had left her upon her death. The small cottage, so nicely furnished and comfortably set up, was easier for Marni to care for, and the income from the larger home could be saved against troubled times.

  Pushing the aged darkened wooden door open, Marni took off her long linen coat, hanging it on a peg as she closed the door behind her, leaning against it in relief. It felt like a refuge each day when she stepped through that door and tonight was no exception.

  The peace and quiet of the little cottage seemed to engulf her, and she felt the tension of another day of hard work slide from her shoulders like a forgotten shawl.

  It wasn’t that Marni didn’t enjoy running the mill, as a matter of fact, she enjoyed the busy days and physical labor almost as much as she enjoyed meeting and visiting with her neighbors. What always seemed to wear her down were the men traipsing in and out of the place trying to find a way to convince her she should marry them.

  Some brought gifts, while others spouted poorly written poetry, and still others badgered and cajoled to no end. Marilynn couldn’t count the pounds of chocolate she had given to the school children who stopped on their way home to fetch a pound of cornmeal or the bundles of flowers she had sent home with a housewife to brighten their tables.

  No, Marni was not interested in marrying any of the men who drifted in and out of her place of business hoping to win her hand and the lucrative mill as well.

  Shuffling through the small living area, past the long wine-colored sofa with its curving legs and wrap-around back, Marni headed for the kitchen to start a fire in the cook stove, longing for a cup of tea and a bit of supper.

  The silence of the beautiful cottage full of all of her familiar things was a haven to the young woman, and each night she locked herself away from her preposterous proposers, regaining her strength for a new day.

  Shuffling the tinder in the firebox and bringing the flames back to life; Marni slid the kettle onto a burner then looked around the kitchen for what she might eat. Being on her own, meals were simple and easily prepared, keeping life manageable and clean up easy.

  As the heavy iron kettle began to heat, Marni’s head snapped up as something on the other side of the house squeaked. An icy shot of fear raced down Marni’s spine and she was certain she was not alone in her home.

  On silent feet, Marni moved back to the living space and lifted down the double-barreled shotgun from above the fireplace. This was her home, and if anyone had decided to break into it, she was willing to defend it.

  The soft screech of bedsprings from the backroom reached Marni’s ears once more as she walked down the hall, pushing open the bedroom door with the tip of the gun’s barrel.

  “Mr. Notts!” Marni cried, her eyes widening at the sight of the spindly looking store owner who was clutching her quilt to his chest as he sat stark naked in her bed.

  “Now Marni,” the man said, raising his hands, then hurrying to grasp the quilt once more as it slipped below his navel. “Now Marni, don’t do anything you’ll regret,” he said. “I was just, well I was just hoping that once you came home, you’d…” the scarecrow of a man stopped swallowing hard as Marni shook her head while the man stared down the gaping black maw of the dangerous looking weapon in her hand.

  “You thought you could trap me,” Marni said, her voice deceptively quiet and calm. “You thought I’d get home late, and by the time I came to bed, I wouldn’t notice you in the dark. Then the next morning you’d be able to shame me into marrying you.”

  “No, no,” the man said sweetly. “I just thought…”

  “Get up,” Marni said, before he could go on. “Get up,” she repeated her mouth a hard, determined line across her usually pleasant face.

  “What?”

  “Get up,” she repeated. “Bring the quilt and pick up your clothes, we’ll see what Sheriff Baker has to say about your intrusion.”

  “Now Marni, there’s no reason to be rash here. I’m sure we can work this out without any need of the law.”

  “Mr. Notts, you can either get up, wrap that quilt around you and march out my front door, or you can run out with a full load of rock salt in your backside. It doesn’t matter to me because any man low enough to try a trick like this deserves what he gets.”

  Slowly the man of at least fifty placed one foot then the other onto the cold floor, wrapping the blanket around him as he reached for his clothes. “Can’t I at least get dressed?” he sniveled.

  “You made this bed,” Marni said, coldly, “Now I guess you’ll have to walk from it the way you are.”

  Marni read through the letter for the fifth time. Everything seemed in order, and she knew that whatever she did next, she would have some time before she had to follow through on her plan.

  Finding Mr. Notts in her bed had been the last straw, and Marni had decided that it was time to leave Vale Hollow behind. The constant parade of proposals had worn her down, but instead of selling out to one of the suitors Marni had sought out a man who had recently arrived from the North and was buying property in the area. The sale of the mill had been bittersweet, but as she’d closed the doors for the last time, she realized that she was also closing the door on all hope of Jordan returning to her.

  It was time to start again, and with the money from the sale of the gristmill and a large house, she knew she could go wherever she chose. Placing the cottage in the care of an old family friend, Marni had found what she believed would be the answer to her problems; a matchmaker in Pelican Rapids, Minnesota who allowed potential brides to stay with her until they were ready to wed.

  Perhaps a new home, with a gentle man, would let Marni heal the invisible wounds the war had left behind. Someone who would love her for who she was, and not what she could bring to the marriage.

  Chapter 2

  He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Psalm 23:3

  Pelican Rapids, 1869

  Ms. Ella Milton studied the letter in her hand, reading each word with care. This particular request would be a challenge if she was reading between the lines correctly, and her blue eyes were worried as she read the missive once more.

  Dear Ms. Milton,

  My name is Marilynn Simms, and I am a war widow. Though only twenty-four years of age, I have been successfully running my late husband’s Grist Mill in Vale Hollow, Tennessee since the start of the war.

  For the past several years, I have held out hope that my husband Jordan may well have survived the ravages of the War Between the States, but have recently come to understand that I need to move on with my life. I am hoping that by answering your ad in the newspaper, I might strike out on a new path.

  I plan on leaving Tennessee as soon as I have my business matters arranged, and I will be boarding the train for Pelican Rapids as soon as final payment is received. I hope that it will not be an inconvenience to you if I stay in your home while you determine if or to whom I might be compatible.

  Although I feel sorrow in leaving my beautiful Tennessee, I am looking forward to a brighter future in Pelican Rapids or beyond. I hope that you will be able to find me a mate that will not only end my loneliness but also accept me for who I am. I am enclosing a small portrait that my mother-in-law had made in hopes that you will know what to do with me when I arrive.

  Also enclosed is your usual fee for matchmaking.

  Yours, Most Truly,

  Marilynn Eleanor Simms

  Miss Ella dropped her hands to the soft golden folds of her dress and stared out at the surrounding fields. She could sense that there was much unsaid in the letter from the young woman from Tennessee. Ella had already seen other brides come through her doors broken and running from the pain and wreckage of the south, but always before she had been able to garner a sense of who would be a good m
atch. This time she couldn’t think of a single man who had written to her who seemed to fit the bill.

  Folding the letter before slipping it back into the envelope, Ella placed the missive on the table and picked up her cup of tea. Something was missing in the letter she had read at least three times, Ella was certain of that, but she couldn’t place it, and her heart went out to Marilynn who must still be grieving the loss of her husband.

  A widow herself Ella Milton could understand how hard it was to accept such a loss, and she still missed her dear Peter, even as she moved on with her life. Peter had given her so much, and she knew that she would always love him.

  In the fields near the barn, Ella could see her son Josiah working to cut the hay. He had grown so much in the years since his father had passed, and she didn’t know what she would do without him. Perhaps one day she would have grandchildren of her own to love, but for now, she cherished the days with her only son and most precious of her late husband’s gifts.

  “Miss Ella,” Minnie called stepping into the small library with more hot water, “would you like me to top up the pot?” the housekeeper asked with a smile.

  “No thank you, Minnie,” Ella replied “I’ll just finish what I have. We may be receiving a new guest in a few days,” she added. “After tea, perhaps we can get a room ready.”

  Minnie, Ella’s longtime housekeeper and friend nodded. “I’ll be ready,” she said, shuffling back toward the kitchen. “It’ll be nice to have another body about for a spell,” she added tossing the comment over her shoulder like an old dishrag.

  Finishing her tea Ella walked to her large desk and slipped the letter into a drawer as her mind ran through potential matches for the young woman called Marilynn. Something told her that this particular young woman might need to stay with them a little longer than some brides had. Only time would tell what came next.