Mail Order Beatrice

by Caroline Clemmons

  No sooner had she tucked Wade back into his basket than the stage slowed. She saw the sign on a business. “This is Bandera. We’re finally here.” She straightened her hat and her shawl.

  Chapter Six

  Tate stood in the shade with Grandpa at the Bandera stage station. A man he knew slightly, Reg Spencer, and his parents drove up in a buggy. He nodded and Reg waved.

  Grandpa pulled out his pocket watch and opened it. “Stage ought to be pulling in any minute now. Hope it’s not late. I’m eager to meet this gal.”

  “You don’t like waiting around, do you? Looks like Reg and his family are meeting someone.”

  “Does at that. Well, we’ve got the preacher waiting on us so I’m ready to get things on the move. I don’t want anything to stop this wedding.”

  “Then, you’d better hope she’s actually on the stage. I see the dust plume now so the stage will be here in a minute or so.”

  Tate’s misgivings grew as the stage came closer. By the time the vehicle stopped in front of them, he was ready to turn tail and run for home. He’d given his word, though, and he never broke his word. That meant he’d stand here and look halfway pleased his bride had arrived—if she had.

  First person off the stage was a pretty brunette. She turned back and took a basket from inside the stage and held it while a beautiful blonde stepped out. The blonde took the basket and hugged the brunette.

  Reg walked up to the brunette. “You must be Hannah. I’m Reggie.” They walked off to where his parents stood.

  Grandpa nudged him. “Son, are you nailed to the boardwalk?”

  He came out of his reverie and walked to the blonde. She was a pretty woman and had a real sweet expression on her face.

  “I’m Tate Merritt. Are you Beatrice Bishop?”

  “I am. My friends call me Attie, but whichever you please is fine.”

  “Shall I take the basket?”

  “If you don’t mind.” She handed it to him and removed the cloth she had covering the basket.

  He glanced at the contents then stared. “It… It’s a baby. I didn’t know you were bringing a baby. Is this kid yours?”

  Her chin came up. “His name is Wade. I’m a widow, you see, and Wade is my son.”

  Grandpa had strolled over and peered at the basket’s contents. “Well, I’ll be if that isn’t a cute little sprout. Wade you say? Looks like a fine boy.”

  Her face radiated such joy her beauty increased. “He is a very good boy. I’m fortunate to have him.”

  She looked at Tate. “I didn’t have a chance to let you know I was bringing him but the matchmaker said from what your minister wrote that she was sure you’d not mind. Your preacher mentioned what a kind and loving family yours was.”

  Grandpa stood there grinning like a fool which certainly was no help.

  “You’re here so I suppose we’ll manage. We’re due at the church now. I’ll load your luggage if you’ll show me which is yours.”

  Grandpa reached for the basket. “I’ll take charge of my great-grandson.”

  Muttering under his breath, Tate escorted his used bride to the pile of luggage the stage driver had set on the boardwalk.

  Attie reached for a carpetbag. “This and that small trunk there. The brown one.”

  “That’s all?”

  “It is.” She raised her chin again—defiantly, he thought, but he supposed it could have been the difference in their height.

  He gauged her size and judged her to be about six or seven inches over five feet. Her eyes were the brightest blue he’d ever seen. In addition to being wrinkled from the trip, her dress was plain and frayed at the cuffs and the hem.

  Reg and his father loaded a large trunk and valise onto their wagon.

  Reg laughed. “Funny our mail-order brides being friends, isn’t it? Guess you’re going to the church next so we’ll see you there.”

  “You know Mr. Spencer?” His used bride touched his arm and appeared excited. “Why, that’s wonderful. Hannah and I are good friends. I hope we can visit them sometimes.”

  He hefted a trunk and a heavy carpetbag. “Sure I know him. Guess I know about everyone in this county and the next. There aren’t that many of us.”

  She kept step with him. “I get the feeling you’re not happy about the baby and me being a widow instead of never wed. I can understand that but I hope you won’t send me back.”

  He stopped and looked at her. “Attie, I’m not sending you back. I can’t help being a little upset because I didn’t know you had a baby or that you were a widow.”

  He started walking again. “I had this picture in my head. Give me a little time to get my mind changed around to the real you.”

  He dang sure would have chosen someone else if he’d had a choice. Instead of a virgin, he had a used bride with some other man’s baby. If that didn’t beat all, he didn’t know what would.

  “Oh, I see. I had your photo and that was an advantage. You’re even nicer looking than the photo. I’m glad you don’t have a beard. I wouldn’t mind if you did, you understand, but I prefer you’re clean shaven. And, you said you smile a lot even though you look solemn in the photo.” She laid a hand on her cheek. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry I’m chattering. I do that sometimes when I’m nervous.”

  She thought he was nice looking and that mollified him a bit. He loaded her luggage into the back seat of the buggy, which still left room for Grandpa. She sure didn’t bring much with her.

  He’d planned to send one of the hands back with the wagon if she had too much luggage for the buggy. Strange she didn’t. He figured a widow would have all sorts of dishes and linens and mementos she’d want to keep.

  Tate helped his used bride into the buggy and then took the baby from Grandpa.

  Grandpa climbed onto the seat and reached for the basket. “I can take charge of Wade. You two will be busy getting hitched.”

  He couldn’t keep a scowl from his face. “If that’s what you want, here he is. I don’t suppose you’re going to try to feed him, too, Grandpa.”

  “You are not too big for me to whip, son. Attie, don’t pay him any mind. Sometimes he gets too big for his britches. I feel like you can train him, though.”

  She laughed, laughed right in his face.

  As if she knew she’d insulted him, she scooted closer and laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Tate. I fed Wade just before we arrived. He won’t eat for almost four hours.”

  He didn’t bother to answer. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t know much about babies except they cried a lot and always needed a clean diaper and had to eat most of the time.

  They could have walked to the church but he was moving the buggy so it’d be easier to get away after the wedding. She was tall and well-built so she could have walked with no problems. He was simply considering the time involved.

  He was having trouble adjusting to the real bride as opposed to his imagined one. Attie was nothing like he’d imagined other than being female and about the right age. In time he reckoned he’d get used to her but right now he was entitled to be upset.

  Her fare from Atlanta was considerable. Grandpa had chipped in a lot extra for her to spend on whatever she wanted. He guessed they were lucky she didn’t just keep the money and take off.

  Grandpa looked like he’d won first prize at the County Fair. He toted that baby basket like he’d birthed the boy himself. Clearly, Tate wouldn’t get any sympathy from his grandfather in sorting out this used bride.

  By the time they got inside the church, Reg and his parents were there with the brunette.

  The preacher, Reverend Moore, walked toward them. “Reg and his bride wondered if you’d care to have a double ceremony. Your choice as I don’t mind either way.”

  Tate looked at his soon-to-be wife.

  Looking down at her hands, she spoke quietly, “If you don’t mind I’d like that. Hannah is my best friend.”

  As if that explained anything. He had a lot of friends but he wasn’t ge
tting hitched at the same time as any of them. Well, except for Reg. Looked like he was getting hitched at the same wedding as Reg Spencer and the brunette.

  “Sure, Reverend Moore, Mrs. Bishop agrees we can get hitched together.”

  Still quiet, she said, “Thank you.”

  Grandpa still carried the basket of baby and elbowed his way past. “Excuse me and I’ll sit near the front.”

  Tate was raised to be a gentleman so he proffered his arm. “Shall we?”

  She looked up at him but didn’t move. “I’d like to use the ring I’m wearing.”

  Dang, her eyes were the bluest he’d ever seen. Made it hard for him to focus and he had to break eye contact. Being pretty didn’t give her an excuse for having a bushel of nerve.

  He fought to control his voice, “Absolutely not. I am not using another man’s ring for my wedding. I have my grandmother’s ring in my pocket. We’ll use that unless you want to insult the man who’s holding your baby.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, no, I didn’t realize you’d have a family ring. So is mine but I’ll save it for when the baby is grown to use for his bride.”

  She moved her ring to her other hand then laid her hand on his arm then smiled. “Now, we can proceed.”

  He was still miffed but they joined the other couple in front of the lectern.

  Reverend Moore acted delighted. Tate had never seen the man when he wasn’t in a good humor. Did he ever yell at his wife or his kids?

  They made it through the ceremony and he placed his grandmother’s wedding ring on his used bride’s finger. She looked at it and smiled up at him as if she approved.

  She should because that ring was from his father’s family and ought to be worth a lot of money if for no other reason than its age. Grandpa’s grandmother received that ring on her marriage in 1773. The ring had come from London from the same jeweler as King George used—only Tate’s family had actually paid their bills.

  They went to the buggy and climbed in. His wife waved goodbye to the Spencers. They drove the same direction and then parted at a crossroads.

  “Do you live far from the Spencers?”

  “Not in local distances. A little under an hour. They come to church in Westlich but they’re about the same distance from Medina as from here.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’ll see Hannah at church. I don’t suppose you can go every week but I’ll look forward to going when we can.”

  He was glad she appeared to realize he couldn’t guarantee every Sunday free. “We go most of the time but, like you said, there’s times we can’t. Ranch work is seven days a week.”

  “Like farming. I grew up on a farm.”

  “Then you ought to adjust real easy to life on a ranch.” Good news on something. At least she didn’t grow up in a big city and expect a lot of amusements.

  Grandpa leaned forward. “This here little fella is gnawing on his fists and making hungry noises. I reckon you ought to stop, son, and let your wife and me change places for a bit.”

  If that didn’t beat all and proved what he’d thought. Babies are always needing to eat or have their diaper changed or are crying.

  “Okay, Grandpa.” Tate pulled the reins and set the brake. He got down and came around to take the basket from his grandfather.

  Grandpa climbed down and helped Attie to the ground and then into the back seat. Tate handed the basket to his wife.

  With a sweet smile on her face, she lifted the boy. With one hand she unbuttoned her dress and blushed. He realized he’d been staring and went to the driver’s seat and snapped the reins. He couldn’t help being curious, could he?

  Grandpa tugged on his arm. “Let’s step over to those trees a minute. I’d like to talk to you private like.”

  He didn’t look at her feeding the kid. “We’ll be just over by those trees and will be right back.”

  When they got out of easy hearing distance, Grandpa lit into him. “What the devil is wrong with you? You are being plumb rude to that sweet young woman.”

  “I finally wrote for a mail-order bride because you nagged me. I guarantee you I didn’t expect to get a used wife and some other man’s kid. I’ll adjust. Give me time.”

  Grandpa narrowed his eyes the way he only did when he was really angry. “You had better and you’d better do so real fast. Don’t you hurt her feelings any more than you already have.”

  “Grandpa, this is my life, all right? How would you like it if Grandma had been married before you married her and had a baby?”

  “How do you know she hadn’t been? You see, in a few years no one will know whether Attie has or not.”

  “Had she? Had Grandma been married before?”

  “Son, you are a smart man and a good grandson. But, I swear I don’t know what to think of you sometimes. You ought to know dang well she hadn’t.”

  He shook his head. “Aw, go get in the buggy without staring at her nursing her son and let’s go home.”

  Twenty minutes later they arrived at the hill overlooking the ranch.

  Grandpa gestured to the view. “Attie, if you look to your right you can see the ranch house now.” As usual when he spoke of the ranch, pride tinted his grandfather’s words.

  “My goodness, it’s very large, isn’t it?”

  “Tate’s the third generation to live here. Pneumonia took my sweet wife fifteen years ago. A stagecoach accident took Tate’s parents twenty years ago.”

  “I’m sorry for your losses, Mr. Merritt.”

  “Now, you call me Grandpa. You’re my new granddaughter and I’m glad to have you. I need help taking care of Tate.”

  She laughed. “He looks capable of taking care of himself. Still, I’ll do my best to be a good wife.”

  Tate glanced back before he remembered but she had finished feeding the baby. “How’d your husband die?”

  “He was shot playing cards.”

  He hadn’t been prepared for that answer. “How long ago was that?”

  “Six months, going on seven now. He didn’t know Wade was on the way.”

  Grandpa tut-tutted. “Must have been hard on you.”

  “Real hard. I didn’t have any money and had to live with Pa and my brother. Pa’s a hard man and an alcoholic. My brother is a sweet man who tries his best to take care of Pa. Wade is named after my brother.”

  Grandpa asked, “Did the man who shot your husband go to jail or was he hanged?”

  “Hmph, Neither, not in that county. Cheating at cards is asking for trouble.”

  Tate pulled up in front of the house. “Here we are.”

  Grandpa climbed out and took the basket holding the baby.

  Tate helped his odd bride down. She was awful pretty and her blue eyes the prettiest he’d ever seen. In addition to that she was just plain different from any woman he’d ever met.

  Chapter Seven

  Attie stared at the huge home. They might not think it was but it looked it to her. She was certain it would have held three generations easily and more if needed. If this wasn’t being rich, it was so close she couldn’t see any difference.

  Tate escorted her up the steps. At the door he scooped her up and carried her across the threshold. “I always planned to do that when I got married. Guess you already had the experience.” He set her down in the parlor.

  “This was a first and I thank you. I always dreamed of being carried through the front door.” She turned to take the basket from Grandpa.

  “I’ll carry this sprout to the nursery for you.” He took off walking.

  A nursery? Her son would have a nursery to play in? They truly were rich.

  She looked at her husband and he shrugged. They followed Grandpa up the stairs.

  Down a long hallway Grandpa opened a door and went inside.

  She and Tate kept following.

  She stood awed. “My word, there’s everything for children already here.”

  “This was Tate’s when he was small. Also, he had a sister who died of diphtheria when she
was six. That sure was hard on us, but we kept everything. Dorcas keeps it tidy.”

  He set the basket on a fancy baby bed. “Reckon there’re sheets and blankets and the like somewhere. Dorcas’ll know. She’s been here for over twenty years, since she was a girl.”

  A robust woman came into the room. “I heard my name. Your dinner will be ready in half an hour.”

  She peeked into the basket. “What a precious baby. Isn’t he tiny, though? I’ll get the sweet boy all settled.”

  Dorcas opened a cupboard and took out a sheet and blanket. “These are kept fresh laundered so don’t worry, Mrs. Merritt.”

  “Please, I’m Beatrice, but you can call me Attie. The baby’s name is Wade after my brother.” She lifted her son so the woman could spread the sheet.

  “I’m Dorcas Davis. Been here since I was fifteen.” Dorcas moved the basket and spread a sheet on the mattress, tucking it in as if she did so every day.

  Attie laid her son gently on the tidy sheet. “What a lovely place for a boy to grow.”

  Wade stretched out with a tiny sigh, as if he knew he was safe and in his new home. Attie covered him with a light blanket.

  Tate acted puzzled. “Kid looks right at home.”

  Grandpa chuckled. “He is at home.”

  Dorcas sent them a stern look from the doorway. “Remember, half an hour.”

  Attie walked around the room. A large rocker sat in one corner near a window. Shelves were built so they made a window seat and a rocking horse stood near them. A cradle was in a corner.

  The child-size table and chairs would be good for games. Covering most of the floor, a braided rug would make a nice place to play. In addition to the baby bed, there was a cot for when Wade was older.

  “I can’t believe my good fortune—really Wade’s. Everything a child could dream of is here in this room.”

  Tate peered around as if surprised. “Reckon I’d forgotten just how the room looked. This nursery holds a lot of memories at that.”

  He walked to the center of the rug. “Grandpa, I remember you playing tin soldiers with me on this rug after I heard Mama and Papa had died.”