Women sat around two quilt stands set up in the event room at the Paulson Hotel. The group was quilting tops for Avalee Paulson today. With six daughters still to marry over time, Helen decided to start on Avalee’s quilts.
Helen Paulson had invited Poppy to join the group when Helen stopped by the meat market. Adolph encouraged her to join the group, even though Poppy wasn’t much of a sewer.
Luckily, Linnea stopped by Poppy’s house so they could walk over together. Even though Poppy had met all the women over the course of the week, they were still new to her.
“I must say, I enjoyed the clean chicken I picked up at the market this week. There wasn’t a pin feather in it due to your diligence,” Iva Mae Shepard complimented Poppy.
“Thank you, Iva Mae. I grew up huntin’ and fixin’ game, so I fit right in with Adolph’s business.”
“I’ve never been to Tennessee. What’s it look like?” Luella, Helen Paulson’s fourth daughter, asked. Poppy noticed the young woman slightly limped when she walked out of church last Sunday, and Adolph said she was born with a club foot. It didn’t seem to slow her, or her bubbly personality, down though.
“About the opposite as here, except for green grass,” Poppy laughed. “The isolated valley is in the middle of the Smoky Mountains and covered with canopies of trees mixed in with open meadows. Lots of streams and springs for water,” Poppy mused, wishing she could be walking along her favorite stream again.
“The town of Collard’s Cove is smaller than Clear Creek and didn’t have much but one general store and a blacksmith. In other words, if you couldn’t get what you need at one or the other business, you didn’t need it.”
“I assume there was a bigger town for more supplies nearby? At least there was in Kentucky,” Mrs. Tolbert, the barber’s wife commented in a haughty voice. Linnea had warned Poppy the woman thought herself as being better than the rest of the women in town.
“Yes, but I’d never been to it. My pappy did the trading,” Poppy answered back.
“Your mother didn’t buy supplies?” Mrs. Tolbert continued, to add an extra jab.
“My mama died when I was twelve, but she was always a homebody, and I stayed home with her. My pappy took care of our needs,” Poppy replied back in the way to put Mrs. Tolbert on alert that Poppy wasn’t going to let the other woman walk over her. Her pappy had done that, but now Poppy was equal to Mrs. Tolbert’s status. They were both wives of businessmen and Poppy wouldn’t cower to the other woman.
“Mack told me he’s going to fence a garden area for you in the backyard,” Kaitlyn said, probably to change the subject.
“Our dogs, Jackson and Jilly are sweet pets, but they’d still dig up the garden if given a chance. Adolph hired Mack to build me a fence,” Poppy said, looking at Mrs. Tolbert. Yes, women were capable of taking care of themselves, but it was fun to point out to Mrs. Tolbert that Adolph had the money to hire work done for her.
The scowl on Mrs. Tolbert’s face and the snicker from someone at the other quilting stand told Poppy she’d handled the situation well.
“If the mercantile doesn’t have the seed you need, check in with me, Poppy. I harvest seeds of some plants at the end of the season to use next year,” Kaitlyn continued on the subject of gardening.
“And I’d love to share with you too, Poppy,” Linnea replied. They had looked at Linnea’s garden yesterday. Potatoes, peas, and lettuce were already growing in her garden spot.
“Thank you. I appreciate you sharing. I’ll do likewise with you in the future,” Poppy said as she carefully took another stitch.
The quilt Poppy was working on was a log cabin pattern in shades of blue and white material. The other frame held a wedding ring quilt, and Poppy was glad she wasn’t working in it because she didn’t have as much practice as the group working on it. The rings were on a white background, and she was told it was going to be Avalee’s wedding quilt.
Now Poppy felt out of place. She hadn’t had quilt tops ready to be quilted like most young women would have in their hope chests. For the past few years, Poppy didn’t have enough scraps to make herself a dress let alone a dozen quilt tops.
She bet some of the mail-order brides in this room brought their quilt tops along, knowing they’d have help turning them into quilts for their new home.
Not that Poppy needed quilts or blankets. Adolph had already furnished the bedrooms with all the bedding they needed. But she wouldn’t mind picking a pattern and material for a colorful quilt for their bed. Currently, it only had a blue wool blanket on it.
Working on quilts with this group of women would give her practice and confidence to pick a pattern and sew her own blocks together.
“What did your family think of you leaving home and traveling so far away?” Mrs. Tolbert asked. She was like an aggressive dog nipping at Poppy’s heels.
Should she tell the truth that her family had no idea where she was, or stretch the truth to protect herself?
“I’m sure my family misses me, but I was ready to move on with my life,” Poppy sweetly answered Mrs. Tolbert. “What made you decide to leave Kentucky, Mrs. Tolbert?”
Ah, it was nice to see Mrs. Tolbert squirm. There must have been trouble for them to leave the state she was so proud of.
“Mr. Tolbert wanted to experience the west, so here we are,” Mrs. Tolbert said, apparently closing the subject, and returning to her stitching.
Kaitlyn winked at Poppy from the other side of the frame, and Poppy felt she’d earned her place in the women’s circle.
Now if she’d just feel comfortable with her new husband and home…
***
“How’s married life, Adolph?” Mack’s slap on his back caused Adolph to slosh the coffee out of the cup he’d just moved to his lips.
He sopped the coffee off his shirt with his cloth napkin. Good thing this was a work shirt instead of his good white shirt.
“Quite an adjustment after living alone all these years, but I’m warming up to it,” Adolph said as he thought of Poppy’s warm body next to his at night. He grabbed his cup of coffee to give him something to do instead of thinking about his bride.
“How’s her cooking? I hear she asked Marshal Wilerson to keep a lookout for possums when he patrolled at night because she wanted to make stew out of them,” Mack teased as he sat down at the table across from Adolph.
Because their wives were busy at the quilting bee today, Adolph, and several other men, planned to meet at the café for lunch. Adolph had looked forward to eating here because he used to eat here every day for lunch before Poppy moved in with him.
“Poppy scoured our yard yesterday for dandelion leaves,” Pastor Reagan said as he sat down at the table next to Mack. “Did you have stewed dandelion greens for supper last night?”
“Yes, along with cornbread, ham, and chitlins,” Adolph said thinking of the meal, very different than the Swedish fare he’d grown up eating.
“Do I dare ask what’s Poppy’s version of chitlins is?” Mack asked.
“She brought home the cleaned pig intestines from yesterday’s butchering and fried them in lard,” Adolph answered. “Got to eat them hot, but they were good after I salted them.”
“Shall we add chitlins to our menu, when you have them available?” Nolan asked as he stood by their table, ready to take their food order, after visiting a bit, knowing the café owner. This is how he kept up with the town’s gossip, instead of spending all his time in the kitchen.
“Nope. Most of the pig intestines are used for sausage casings, but Poppy got a kick out of making something she used to fry in a skillet over her home’s fireplace. She’s still adapting to using the wood stove, so she’s experimenting.”
“At least she can cook,” Cullen added as he set down beside Adolph. “Because Rose grew up in the circus and ate with the performers and workers, my wife didn’t know how to cook at all when we first married. Lots of over-cooked and under-cooked meals for a while,” Cullen shook his head, maybe remembe
ring his and Rose’s newlywed days.
“At least you can plan on your supper being on the table at a certain time each night. I never know when Pansy’s patient schedule will let us eat. I fix supper, and it might be cold before we get to eat it,” Mack grumbled.
“You fix supper?” Adolph had to tease Mack.
“My wife is the town doctor, and I support her every way I can, including fixing meals, so we don’t starve. We’re big people, and we need our food.”
“The ham special alright with everyone today? That way we can serve you all at once,” Nolan asked the group as Kiowa Jones, the blacksmith, and Elof Lundahl, the farrier, joined the table of men.
“Who else is coming? I’ll get their meals ready too,” Nolan asked.
Pastor Reagan looked around the table before answering.
“We’re missing Fergus, but he might be in the middle of developing pictures in his dark room and won’t come until he’s done.”
Adolph hoped Fergus’ project was their wedding photographs. Poppy was anxious to see their portrait.
“How about Angus? Jasper?” Nolan must have thought through the rest of the Reagan’s sons and friends.
“Not sure,” Pastor said, “so don’t count on them unless they come in.”
Adolph realized this was the first-noon meal he’d eaten here in the café since he married. He’d enjoy Nolan’s familiar cooking and the conversation with the men to feel back to…normal.
Because he and Poppy met right before their wedding instead of courting first, this week had been a combination of surprises, disappointments, and compromises. Sharing the bedroom and bathroom with a person after all these years was disconcerting.
Did he do the right thing by ordering a mail-order bride? Adolph could knock his head against the wall for not thinking this through. Why didn’t he seriously think about courting a local woman, in Clear Creek or a surrounding town?
Adolph was ashamed to admit it, but he wouldn’t have these second thoughts if Poppy had looked like her advertisement photograph. The dark hair and refined features in the portrait was the reason he’d picked her.
He looked up, realizing Pastor was staring at him across the table. Did the man know the doubts going through Adolph’s mind?
Chapter 10
“Ah, this is nice,” Poppy said as Adolph stopped the horse and buggy by the river embankment. Only a few trees were lining the banks, but at least they were trees.
“What kind of tree is that, Adolph? The leaves dance and shine in the light.” Poppy cocked her head, listening to the sounds coming from the river. “Are they makin’ that rustlin’ noise too?”
“They’re cottonwoods. The most common tree you’ll find along the river. Their roots love water,” Adolph answered as he pulled the brake and hopped off the buggy. Before he could walk around the horse to help Poppy down, she’d hopped off by herself and was heading for the river’s edge.
“You know what poison ivy looks like?” Adolph called to her as he tended to the horse.
“Yep, it was thick in the woods at home,” Poppy called back as she disappeared from his sight. He could hear her sliding down the bank to get to the water’s edge.
Adolph had to smile. Her quick, descent wasn’t something his former fiancée would do. Anna Marie would carefully tiptoe down while holding up her dress with one hand and clinging to his arm with the other. Actually, Anna Marie would never want to fish, let alone get out of the buggy to walk through poison ivy.
He had just pulled the fishing poles and shovel to dig worms for bait when she charged back up the bank, huffing a little because of the steep climb.
“There’s a deep hole with an overhanging tree about five yards south of here. I bet you two bits there’s some big catfish snoozin’ on its deep bottom,” Poppy said with excitement in her voice.
“And catfish is good meat? I’m not a big…ah…fish eater,” Adolph cringed thinking of having to eat fish again.
“They’re good because they’re big and meaty. I heard at the quiltin’ bee that some boys were fishing here last week and pulled out a thirty-pound catfish. Think of how many meals you could make of that!”
“Or we share the fish with neighbors,” Adolph quickly added, “if we catch anything today.”
“Linnea’s been wanting to have a neighborhood potluck. I could fry up the fish for that.”
Adolph watched as Poppy grabbed the shovel he’d set against the back of the buggy and turned to walk back down the water’s edge. The woman was going to dig her own bait? It wouldn’t surprise Adolph.
And maybe he wouldn’t have to clean any fish they caught either, he thought as he hoisted the two fishing poles to his shoulder. Adolph picked up the wicker picnic basket from the back of the buggy and took his time walking down the bank.
Poppy's Sunday hat and white silk gloves were sitting on a fallen log, six feet away from the water's edge. And Poppy, kneeling down on the ground, not minding the dirt she must be grinding into her skirt, was digging worms out of an overturned soil with her bare hands.
"Looky at these big, juicy red wigglers. The catfish are gonna love them," Poppy said as she held up a squirming worm for Adolph to inspect.
"I'm sure they will," Adolph said dryly, and he set the fishing poles down on the ground. "You need me to bait the hooks?"
"I can do it myself," Poppy said as she picked up the first pole, carefully pulling the hook out of the side of the bamboo stick and threading the worm on the hook.
She handed the pole to Adolph. "Throw the line out toward the middle of the deep hole while I hook the next worm."
Adolph did as she said, expertly flicking the line where he knew the gigantic fish were lurking, then jammed the end of the pole into the muddy bank. He wasn’t going to hold the pole while waiting for some unlucky fish to take a nibble on the bait.
"You're not showin' much enthusiasm this afternoon, Mr. Bjorklund. What's wrong?"
Adolph looked downstream instead of at his wife. How much dare he say?
"You have food you really don't like to eat?" Adolph asked.
"Oh, sure. I was so hungry once I ate way too many plums off of a tree one afternoon. Paid for it with a painful stomach ache and bad runs I'll never forget. Haven't touched the fruit since. Why?" Poppy asked as she flicked her line to the left of Adolph's and pushed her pole into the banks’ edge too.
"My first job in Stockholm was cleaning fish. Not a few fish, but thousands of fish. And if I wanted to eat, it was fish, because that was part of my pay."
"And how long did you have this job?" Poppy asked as she plopped down cross-legged on the water's edge and watched the fishing line settle into the water.
"Too many months. There are several fisheries in Stockholm because the port was on the shore of the Baltic Sea. Boats would bring in loads of fish they'd caught at sea."
"How'd they preserve all that fish?"
"Herring was pickled. Lots of stockfish, mostly cod, were dried, unsalted, outside on wood racks for winter use. The frigid air and wind would dry the fish as hard and stiff as a piece of wood."
"Ah. And what was done with all the skin and entails after cleaning the fish?"
"Thrown back into the harbor. Can you imagine the smell on the docks?" Even though it had been years since Adolph left Sweden, he could still hear the gulls scream with excitement when the leftovers were thrown into the churning sea water and the smell...oh the smell.
"I take it you won't be tasting my fried catfish this evening?" Poppy asked with amusement.
"There's a million things I'll do for you, but eating fish is not one of them." Adolph shuddered again at the thought of eating poached fish in the past with his co-workers.
Poppy's laughter caused a nearby turtle on the water's edge to plunk to safety. It was out of sight in an instant due to the river's brown muddy water.
"But yet you worked in a meat processor in Chicago and have a meat market here? How's come you can still eat beef and pork?"
"Fresh meat does not smell the same as bloated decaying fish."
Poppy laughed so hard she snorted this time. "I'm so sorry, but I just envisioned you waist deep in a building full of fish."
Hopefully her giggling scared away the fish from their underwater bait. He did not look forward to touching another fish in his lifetime. But then, Poppy would probably want to take care of her catch anyway.
"Okay, if we catch any fish, I'll pass them around to our neighborhood, and I'll just ask for a cooked serving back for me."
"Thank you. I'd appreciate."
"Unless we sell them in the meat market. We could put a water tank in the back area, and I could keep it stocked with fish. Then when a customer wanted fish, you could net one out and—"
"No. No fish will ever be sold in our meat market!"
"Okay." Poppy tried to keep her face serious but failed with another snort.
"How about we eat our picnic lunch now instead of talking about fish. What did you pack for our meal?" Adolph asked as he pulled the basket between them and lifted the cloth covering the contents.
Adolph looked up when Poppy didn't answer. Why was she blushing and biting her bottom lip?
"Poppy?"
"I packed apples, bread, cheese...and a tin of pickled herring," she burst out with another laugh.
“You can eat that herring all by yourself, Mrs. Bjorklund, downstream from me,” Adolph replied as he spread the cloth on the ground and laid out the contents. Yep, there was a tin of herring. She wasn’t just teasing him.
“Here I thought I was buying you a delicacy you enjoyed in your youth. Mr. Taylor pointed it out for me, sayin’ all you Swedes loved the pickled fish.”
“I’m sure the Lundahls and Hamners enjoy pickled herring, but not me.” Adolph pulled a kitchen knife out of the basket and commenced to cut the slices of bread, cheese, and apples. Poppy would have to open the tin of pickled fish herself if she wanted to eat it.
“Oh, my line’s moving!” Poppy whispered as she slowly pulled the pole from the mud, not minding the muddy coating on her hands as she handled it. She did a short, quick jerk on the line, and the line went taut. She had snagged a fish.
Grooms with Honor Series, Books 7-9 Page 6
