“Still, we can never be too careful.” Isaac hopped down from the wagon and helped Tim put the hay in the barn. “We worked hard to build our homesteads. The last thing we need is ornery men creeping through the fields and snatching our cattle one by one.”
“I hear you. I got my two boys looking after my cattle and sheep.” Tim carried hay into the barn and started spreading it across the floor.
“I appreciate you looking after my property for me while I was gone.”
“Anything for a friend. Life can be trying out here with rustlers and greedy gold prospectors. Us honest folks have to look out for each other.” Tim tossed more hay onto the barn floor. “Say, weren’t you going to Angel Vale to see about the young lady you wrote to back east? It’s none of my business, but I thought her train was due to arrive this morning.”
“It did. She’s in town. I haven’t brought her to the house yet because there are still things around here I want to get in order. I want it all to be ready for her.”
A large grin appeared in Tim’s tanned face. “Sounds as though you’re being the perfect gentleman. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
Isaac hoped so. Rosalie was outwardly polite and put on a good poker face. He had difficulty guessing what she was thinking when he was with her.
He worked alongside Tim until the barn floor was covered with a layer of fresh hay. Tim dusted his hands afterwards. “Well, it won’t be long, will it? Soon, you’ll have a wife to help you and keep you company. I know my Pauline will be glad to have another woman nearby to visit.”
“If I work fast enough, Rosalie can be here tomorrow.”
“I’ll leave you to your work, then. Take care.” Tim went to saddle his horse and ride to his homestead five miles away.
Isaac unhitched his horses from the wagon and brought them inside the barn. Once he made sure they were secure, he made his way to the house. The afternoon sun cast light through the new windows of the one-story structure, illuminating the bare entryway and kitchen.
His boots rapped along on the sturdy wooden floor as he hung his rifle by the door and removed his duster to place on the nearby coat peg. The smell of the new oilcloth he placed in the sitting area near the hearth was still noticeable. He opened a window to let in fresh air. The strong scent should be gone before Rosalie came home.
Isaac continued from the front of the house down a narrow hall to the bedroom. In his haste to start the day, he left the door ajar that morning. He pushed it all the way open. His bed pallet and half-folded blanket lay on the floor beside an unfinished oak bed frame and a box of tools. He got on his knees, picked up a hammer, and set himself to working on the frame. Rosalie was a former maid in a rich man’s household. She was used to a certain amount of comfort. He’d do his best to provide it for her while she lived under his roof. A smile slipped across his face as he thought about the new life in store for both of them.
***
Rosalie spent her first night in Angel Vale in an uneasy sleep. She drifted off right away at first due to her fatigue from travel, but was soon disturbed by cold drafts seeping through the walls and a persistent cramp in her back from the sagging cot she rested on. When morning came bright and early to the tune of Mrs. Phelps’s tapping on the door at five o’clock, Rosalie got up from her cot with a stiff neck and a dull headache.
She yawned and attempted to stretch out the kinks in her muscles. Through the thin walls of the building, she could hear the other ladies walking about and preparing for the day. Rosalie made a beeline towards the small washstand in the corner of her little room and poured water from a pitcher into the basin. The cool splash of water to her face gradually brought her to life. She chose from one of the few cotton dresses in her trunk. It was a simple gray calico with tiny blue buttons down the middle. Rosalie set it on the cot and reached again into the trunk in search of another item.
Her aunt’s wedding dress was somewhere near the bottom. Before leaving Maine, Rosalie made sure the dress was laundered, pressed, and meticulously secured in layers of canvas and linen to guarantee its safe arrival in Wyoming. She planned to wear the dress at her wedding to Isaac. Rosalie removed spare underpinnings, stockings, shoes, and a nightgown from the trunk until the cot was filled with an explosion of garments. At last she found the wedding dress. She removed it from the trunk to see how it fared on the journey.
A second tap on the door startled her. “Miss Chalmers, the ladies are sitting down to breakfast,” came Mrs. Phelps’s friendly reminder.
Rosalie would have to inspect the wedding dress and sort out her garments after breakfast. She rummaged through the piles of clothing on the cot until she recovered the gray calico she picked out for the day. She slipped it on over her linen chemise, donned summer wool stockings and the boots she wore yesterday. Once she coaxed her shoulder-length hair into a bun and pinned it, she left her room to join the other ladies.
Rosalie ate her simple yet delicious fare of biscuits, hot gravy, bacon, and coffee expediently before returning to her room. She placed the articles of clothing into her trunk until nothing remained on the cot except for her aunt’s wedding dress. The canvas and linen coverings fell away as her fingers worked to loosen the ties.
A small lump rose in her throat as the dress was revealed. Ivory ribbon and soft lace decorated the bodice of the gown. Aunt Naomi told her she was given the lace for the dress as a gift from the wife of a sea captain in whose household she worked as a ladies maid. Aunt Naomi and Rosalie’s mother spent hours sewing the lace to the wedding dress. It had been one of her aunt’s most cherished possessions.
Rosalie smoothed the wrinkles from the front of the dress with a sigh. How she wished her aunt could be with her now, but Aunt Naomi’s bout with pneumonia robbed her of the opportunity forever. Years of labor had already taken most of Aunt Naomi’s strength when she fell ill. Her aunt went home to be with the Lord less than a week after taking to the sick bed.
“Miss Chalmers?” Mrs. Phelps called to her from the other side of the door. “May I come in?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rosalie pulled the door open to see the matron standing before her, bright-eyed, alert, and erect in posture. “What is it?”
“Mr. Baker’s waiting outside to take you to your wedding.”
Rosalie’s heart skipped an anxious beat. Isaac wanted to get married today? She didn’t expect him to return to Angel Vale so soon. She assumed when he said a day or two it meant something more than a small lapse of fifteen hours. Oh, what difference did it make? She chided herself. A few hours or a few days, she was still going to marry a man she barely knew.
“Would you like me help you pack your trunk?” Mrs. Phelps pointed to the wedding dress on the cot.
Rosalie looked to the dress in dismay. Not even a minute to spare to give it a good pressing. “Actually, if you could help me put on the white dress, I’d be very thankful. I want to wear it to the wedding.”
Mrs. Phelps opened the case of a fob watch pinned to her blouse. “We’d best hurry, then. Your groom looked like he was eager to get the ceremony underway.”
Rosalie unlaced her heavy black boots while the matron started undoing the tens of little white buttons on the back of the wedding dress. This morning was not going well at all. How was she supposed to prepare herself properly for a wedding on tremendously short notice? She couldn’t find the corset to go under the dress or the white linen petticoats to make the dress take on the right shape. She was forced to do without, holding her breath while Mrs. Phelps diligently laced her everyday corset a little tighter. Rosalie bent forward and held out her arms so Mrs. Phelps could slip the dress over her head.
“You must hold still so I can button you in,” she said while Rosalie attempted to hunt for the matching slippers in the trunk. Rosalie found them tucked in a bottom corner. She squeezed her feet into her aunt’s slippers. They were a little too small but she could make do without too much discomfort.
“Is this the hat and veil?” Mrs. Phelps loca
ted the items from the trunk.
Rosalie nodded and set about to pin the hat to her hair. There was no time to take her hair down and arrange it into a more formal style. She smoothed the stray strands around her ears and pulled the short veil forward over her face. “Do I look alright?”
Mrs. Phelps nodded her approval. “Yes, and it’s a lovely dress. I’m certain Mr. Baker will think the same.” She closed the trunk lid and made sure the latch was secure. “Is everything inside? I don’t want you to leave anything behind by mistake.”
“Mrs. Phelps?” Isaac’s voice called from right outside Rosalie’s room. His impatient knock sounded on the door. “I’d like to put my bride’s things on the wagon so we can be on our way.”
“Just a minute, Mr. Baker. She’s almost ready.” Mrs. Phelps scanned Rosalie once more to see if she was decent and pulled open the door.
Isaac towered over the short woman. His space filled the narrow wooden doorframe. “Where’s Miss Chalmers’s trunk?” He swung his head left and stopped upon seeing Rosalie in the corner. After several seconds, he spoke in a less hurried manner. “Rosalie, you are a beautiful sight.”
His compliment did little to relieve her of the nerves that decided to produce hundreds of fluttering sensations in her stomach. Her tightly laced corset prevented her from drawing a full breath. “Thank you,” she uttered in a soft voice, gazing at him through her sheer veil.
Isaac was also dressed for the occasion. His black trousers and waistcoat appeared to be freshly pressed, with a sharp crease in the middle of the trouser legs. He wore a blue necktie and a gray coat covered his arms. Though a fine layer of dust covered the toes of his shoes, she could see they were recently polished. He made a dashing figure standing before her, tall, handsome and albeit, a tad harried. “You can go outside to the wagon. I’ll get your trunk.” He crossed the tiny room in three steps to where the trunk resided.
Rosalie picked up her valise and slipped past him. She addressed Mrs. Phelps who stood by the door. “Thank you for providing me with room and board.”
“You’re welcome, my dear.” The lady beamed a kindly smile. “I wish you and your groom a wonderful wedding day.”
It didn’t feel like a wedding day. Rosalie took stock of her dim surroundings in the warehouse and the wrinkles in her dress. Perhaps the venue where Isaac was taking her to be married would be a bit more cheerful. She needed something to lighten her anxious mood.
She squinted when the sun got in her eyes outside. Once they adjusted to the brightness of day, she walked into the street towards the wagon, careful to avoid losing her footing in the deep wheel ruts in the road. Isaac came out of the building with her trunk. He got it on the wagon and helped Rosalie onto the bench. The constrictions of her formal dress made it difficult to climb up. She tucked her long white skirt behind her knees to keep it from billowing in the breeze. The prairie winds were out in full force. A particularly strong gust attempted to wrench her hat from its pins. She held her hand atop it. “Are we going to the pastor for the wedding?”
“We’re going to visit Mr. Reynolds. He takes care of legal business for the town. That includes weddings.”
So her wedding to Isaac was going to be handled by a businessman as though it was just another ordinary transaction. Rosalie felt the disappointment welling up inside her and made an effort to stop her emotions from taking over. What did she expect? She willingly volunteered and signed a contract to be a mail order bride. If her courtship to Isaac consisted of a handful of brief letters, what made her think their wedding would be anything fancy? At least her groom seemed to be a decent man willing to take her as his wife and provide for her. He was pleasing to the eye as well. Things could be worse, she tried to reason with herself. She could still be in Merville, Maine, alone and scrounging to make ends meet while looking for work in another household.
Rosalie continued to hold onto her hat while the wagon jostled along in the street. A handful of men moved along the boardwalks, but most of the shops had yet to open. She kept her nerves at bay and her mind occupied by memorizing the names and locations of the Main Street shops. She figured she would need to know them for a future visit to town.
“This is the place.” Isaac drew the wagon to a stop in front of a plain wooden building that looked as though it had been assembled with hammer and nail over the course of a week. She read the sign on the building. Reynolds, Proprietor.
Isaac got her down from the wagon and offered his arm. Rosalie fought with her hesitation in order to slip her hand through and rest it on the crook of his elbow. He walked her up to the door. He gave a courtesy knock on the flimsy wood before pushing it open. “Mr. Reynolds, my bride and I are ready.”
“Be with you in a moment.” A thin, lanky man stood over a desk that had seen better days. He had a stack of papers in his hand. Two spilled to the ground. He turned around in a huff to pick them up. “Nina, we have more folks fixing to get hitched. I need you to witness.”
A plump and petite woman came bustling from another room curtained off from the office. Rosalie caught the scent of fresh coffee when the curtain billowed. “Another wedding for the mail order bride service? Oh, I do so love the success it’s been having.” Nina ambled her way towards Rosalie. “Are you also from Maine?” she asked with a smile.
“Yes,” Rosalie answered. The train carrying her and the other brides only arrived yesterday. Just how many weddings did Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds oversee in one day?
Mr. Reynolds cleared his throat. “Do you have a ring?” He looked to Isaac.
Isaac patted the front of his coat pocket. “Yes, sir. We’re ready.”
“Not quite.” Nina lifted Rosalie’s veil from her face. “Now you’re ready.”
The proprietor cleared his throat again. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”
Was he starting already? Isaac got in closer to Rosalie and tucked her hand within his. This was it. She was getting married. She got as much air into her lungs as she could before the tight lacing of her corset pushed against her ribs.
She felt a nudge on her shoulder. Mrs. Reynolds whispered in her ear. “Your turn.” Rosalie realized Isaac and the proprietor were waiting for her to speak. She didn’t even feel it when Isaac slipped the gold band on her ring finger.
“I repeat,” said Mr. Reynolds, “Rosalie, do you take Isaac to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I-I do.” Her response was little more than a croak. A bullfrog could have done better. She saw the proud, satisfied look in Isaac’s eyes. She averted her gaze and watched the proprietor. His lips moved, but for some strange reason, she couldn’t hear him speak until the very end.
“…I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
***
Isaac felt Rosalie become stiff as a board when Mr. Reynolds issued the proclamation. What was wrong? It was a little too late for cold feet now.
He leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss upon her inviting pink lips. There would be time for more in the privacy of their home. Nevertheless, the quick kiss was pleasant. He hoped Rosalie thought so, too.
She blinked up at him as though seeing him for the first time. Did she realize he just kissed her? What was she thinking about? Mercy, he hoped she wasn’t regretting her decision.
The proprietor’s wife clapped her hands, startling Rosalie into alertness. “Wonderful. Congratulations. May you have a happy life.”
Isaac had already taken care of the bill with Mr. Reynolds a few days in advance, so they didn’t need to stay in the building longer. He wished Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds a good day and escorted his new wife outside. “Are you ready to go home, my bride?”
She glanced up at him in an odd way, blinking again as though she had sand in her pretty brown eyes. She merely nodded. He got her into the wagon and vaulted up himself. His feet felt as though they had springs. My, but he was in a fine mood today, even after a night with little sleep. He spent most of the hours putting the finishing to
uches on the bed he would share with Rosalie. He imagined he might not catch up on sleep tonight, either, though it was hardly a terrible thing for a newlywed man to endure.
With a flick of the reins, he set his horses homeward. Rosalie settled next to him, quiet as usual. He peeked at her from the corner of his eye every so often. He caught her glancing at the gold ring on her finger and moving it now and again to catch the sunlight. The ring was simple in its design, but it was of fine gold quality, designed by the town jeweler Alex Vaughn. Isaac worried himself over whether the ring would suit Rosalie, but the gold complemented the warm tones of her skin and fit on her slim elegant finger perfectly.
They arrived at Isaac’s homestead shortly before noon. Tim met them by the barn. Isaac introduced his wife to his friend. “Rosalie, this is Tim. He’s my good friend and neighbor. Tim, I’d like you to meet my wife.”
Tim nodded to her. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Baker. Congratulations on your wedding.”
Isaac’s bride took a moment to adjust to being called Mrs. Baker. She issued a soft-spoken thanks to Tim.
“Why don’t you two go on to the house? I don’t mind unhitching your wagon from the horses before I leave.”
Isaac appreciated Tim’s gesture. He issued a nod of gratitude to him as he went to get Rosalie’s trunk down from the wagon. Tim gave him a knowing smile. “I’ll bring Pauline around to meet her in a few weeks,” his friend muttered under his breath when they passed each other.
“See you soon.” Isaac’s mind was already focused on getting settled indoors with his wife. He hardly noticed the strain of dragging her heavy trunk into the house.
Rosalie stood inside near the doorway. Like a little mouse, she was still and alert as her wide eyes perused the living space. Isaac tensed. He spent the hour before dawn sweeping the kitchen and the sitting area before the fireplace. Did she find it to her liking?
Christmas Mail Order Angels: The complete 11 Volume Set Page 23
