Chapter 12
The smell of sawdust permeated the air. Erich wiped his sweaty brow with his shirtsleeve and bent over the lathe. Wood chips flew.
“May I interrupt?” Prudie’s soft voice made him jerk, gouging out a spot. She had that effect on him. Rusty jumped to attention and wagged his tail as Prudie dropped to her knees to nuzzle the dog and stroke his fur. Would she ever come to Erich first—caress him like that?
He grimaced. Now he was envying his dog. “Sure, come in.” He rubbed the flaw in the wood with his thumb. It could be smoothed out. If only he could erase his own flaws as easily.
A horse neighed, reminding Erich he ought to exercise them before long. Prudie stepped into the pool of light from the high window of the stable, then ambled to the stalls. “You have two horses?”
“The roan’s mine. Well, I guess they’re both mine, since Grandpa left me the black.”
“I should have saved them the apples I ruined in that pie I tried to make.”
“Your pie was just fine for a first attempt.” Somehow Erich had gotten down two pieces of the underdone apple-filled dough, tough enough to pass for raw hide.
Her cheeks turned rosy “You’re just being nice.”
Prudie’s flush sent him searching for a new subject. “I need to exercise the horses more. How would you like to go riding this afternoon?”
Prudie squeezed his forearm, sending a dart of desire all the way to his neck. “I would love that.” She crossed her hands in front of her. “The smell of this wood is delightful. What is it?”
“It’s cedar. You said you needed a chest for your…your bedroom.” He got up and wiped his hands on a cotton rag. “I had to let the stain dry on the bureau.”
“You do beautiful work.” She ran her finger along the surface of the bureau top. “I’ve caught up on my laundry, so I can watch the store this afternoon if you’d like to keep working on the furniture.”
Erich cocked a brow before remembering he’d given Eustace part of the afternoon off. It didn’t matter. The clerk would be back in time for them to go for a ride before supper. He caught the appeal in Prudie’s emerald eyes. She wanted to watch the store. He was beginning to read her. “If you don’t mind.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “No, not at all.” She strode around, hands clasped in back. “Sibbie paid me a visit this morning. I invited her and Ben to dinner Friday. Is that all right with you? Perhaps I should have discussed this with you first.” Her low chuckle floated through the air. “I’m not yet accustomed to being married.”
Neither was he. “It’s all right with me, and I don’t see any reason why you’d have to confer with me about dinner. I always thought that was a wife’s prerogative. I think it’s a fine idea. Maybe we should invite Pastor Lyons and his wife as well.”
He could tell by the way her lips drew down at the corners, she didn’t agree. In fact, Prudie didn’t show much interest in getting to know any of the church folks except Sibbie and Ben. Still, he had to admit she was friendly enough with everyone who came into the store. “Something about the pastor you don’t like?”
She shook her head a little too vigorously, and a shimmering auburn curl popped down over her eyes. She brushed it back. “No, of course not. I don’t know them, but his wife seems quite young for him. I doubt she’s as old as I am.”
“She might be his second wife. That happens a lot.”
“I suppose. It just occurred to me that the Whitleys and Pastor Lyons have already lived rich, full lives, but Mrs. Lyons is so young, it seems unfair to make her risk her death with my cooking.”
One of the things Erich admired about Prudie was her humor. He laughed aloud, and without thinking, reached out to grab her.
She sidestepped like a skittish kitten, not yet tame enough to be touched. Laughter died and he shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Of course I’ll invite the Lyons too. We must get to know all the townspeople. It’s good for business.”
Erich didn’t know how to respond, so he started buffing a sheen into the stained oak that would frame the cabinet doors of the bureau. Prudie’s shadow fell over him. “Erich, I had another idea I’d like to discuss with you.”
He threw his rag aside and locked gazes with her.
“I’ve heard there are three smaller towns within a thirty mile radius of Bent Fork.”
“Yeah, a sight smaller.”
“But they all have a dry goods store.”
“Well, Prudie, this may come as a surprise, but that’s how a town gets started. A peddler goes across country and sets down where a few farms or ranches have sprung up. If he gets enough business, he builds a permanent building and other buildings follow.”
“I did know that, actually. But new farms and ranches have sprung up between towns. The people go to the closest town to buy supplies.”
“That makes sense. People have settled in this area, then their children grow up, and they divide up the land. The population is growing that way more than from new people coming in.”
“Yes, and some of these people are a fair distance from town, so they have to wait until the end of the week or month to make the trip into town. What if we take a covered wagon and fill it with things people need frequently and travel along the periphery of those farms and ranches? They’d buy their supplies from us instead of waiting until the next trip to town.”
“That would take a long time just traveling around.”
“It would, but you’ve said you need to exercise the horses and want to get to know more people. You’d accomplish both by peddling to the countryside.”
“You want me to drive the wagon? How would I have time to run the store or make the furniture?”
“Eustace and I could handle the store. I would get all my household chores done in the morning, so I could clerk in the afternoons. I could get our dinner from Sibbie’s so we could enjoy our evening meal.”
He didn’t remember wanting to get to know more people, just those who were here. Before he could respond, she continued, “As to the furniture, you don’t have to peddle every day. You could work on furniture on alternate days.”
Erich scratched his ear. He didn’t know how it would work out with Prudie and Eustace. She evidently didn’t want Erich to spend any time in the store, since he’d be busy peddling and making furniture.
He wasn’t too fond of running the store, but he wanted to keep an eye on his clerk to learn more about the business. Besides, there was something about Eustace that bothered him, something he couldn’t place. Maybe he wasn’t accounting for the inventory right, or wasn’t as helpful to the customers as he should be. He couldn’t mention his concerns to Prudie. It would just set her off.
Now with all the duties Prudie was adding to his plate, how was he to spend any time in the store? But with her face lit up like that, he hated to disappoint her. He decided to tease her a bit. “That is an enticement—Sibbie’s food and all, but it’s something I’ll have to think on.”
She laughed. “Of course you do. I’m still studying the items we might pack on the wagon—you know, the items most likely to sell, so I’m in no hurry.”
His gaze lingered on her lips too long. She turned her back on him. “I want to tell you the desire of my heart, Erich.”
He swallowed, his pulse quickening. She swung around to face him. “I want to build a mail-order business out of our store.” His heart plunged, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Truthfully, it’s what I wished to do with my father’s business, but my brother made some bad investments and lost it.”
“You have a brother?”
“I do, but we’re not close. You’ve heard of how Montgomery Ward got started? Oh, I know we’ll have to start on a much smaller scale. What do you think of selling your furniture by catalogue?”
She was going too fast for him. First pedaling merchandise across the countryside, now selling by catalogue. He’d known from the first Prudie was ambitious. “Why would we do that?”
&nb
sp; “To find customers, of course. Mr. Tilman at the newspaper said he’d print us up some catalogues, and I could mail them out to rich people back east. I did know a few, and my friend, Carianne, can distribute them.”
“You’d probably get enough orders for what little furniture I can make out here.”
“But we couldn’t charge as much for it.”
This could disintegrate into an argument, the last thing he wanted. “Let’s think about that too, and when I get anything fit to sell, you can look for customers.”
“All right. Thank you for listening to my prattle. I think I’ll change and take a walk around town and bring back something for your lunch.” She was at the door before he looked up. Her saucy green look hit him in the eyes. “Something edible for a change.”
She’d apparently forgotten their ride. They’d been married over a week, and Erich didn’t know any more about how to win this woman’s affection than at the beginning. She wanted to be courted, she’d said. Trouble was, he didn’t know how to court, and she obviously didn’t want to give them any time together.
He could forget about what he’d learned from Jane Austin. Prudie was nothing like the Dashwood sisters. Unlike Prudie, they had a desire to be courted.
Chapter 13
The days flew by in a flurry of calling on neighbors, hosting dinners, and organizing the store. Prudie couldn’t have endured four years at Harvard without scheduling every minute and making every minute count. She knew how to organize her schedule and Erich’s.
To satisfy her whim, he agreed to pack the covered wagon and head out to the countryside.
She laughed when he voiced his opinion it would be a waste of time, that the country folk wouldn’t buy anything, preferring to wait for their weekly trip into town. Of course, what he didn’t know was she’d marked down most of the items to less than would be normally charged. Prices could always be hiked when customers got used to the new method.
Eustace became the bane of her existence. The man was uncooperative and made no mistake that he didn’t like having a lady boss. She didn’t care what he didn’t like, and would have convinced Erich to fire him—except. Eustace was handy for lifting the heavy feed sacks and equipment. Prudie would have preferred to hire another woman to clerk the store, but she needed Eustace’s muscles.
That’s all she wanted from him, however.
Prudie sent Eustace to the depot to receive a new delivery, and with the store empty, began an inventory of fabrics. She was tapping the pencil on her notepad, trying to decide whether to order more blue calico or blue-checked gingham when Milly Lyons came in. Since her first dinner party, Prudie and the pastor’s wife had become close friends.
Milly was kindhearted and always had a ready smile. Prudie had changed her mind about the pastor too. Obviously, if he could keep his wife happy, he was a good man. Milly weaved her way around the tables. “Peter stopped off at your house to see Erich, who told me I’d find you here.” As if an explanation was necessary. The store was opened to the public, after all.
“I’m so glad you popped in. Erich’s taking a rare day off to go over the books. I balance the books every day, but you know how men like to be in charge.”
Milly laughed. “Yes they do.” She ran her hand over a bolt of white flannel, the type used for diapers. Was Milly expecting? She was naturally plump, so it was hard to tell.
Was this the way all young married women looked at each other. Like inspecting a newly planted garden, waiting for something to sprout. Thank goodness Prudie hadn’t been married long enough for them to start speculating about her, though two old ladies had already offered their sewing skills for a future layette.
Milly’s glance gave nothing away. “Actually, we hardly ever see Erich except at services, so Peter wanted to see how he was getting on. You haven’t been married long, and it can be a big adjustment for both wife and husband. Is all going well?”
It wasn’t a casual question, Prudie knew. This was the way of all church people, looking for trouble in other people’s lives—wanting to save them. “You must remember Erich lived like a hermit for several years. He doesn’t mix with people well. Besides, he’s been very busy.”
“Yes, I heard he’s peddling toward Dry Creek and Layton way.”
“That’s right. Erich’s grandfather was ill for some time, and the business ran down, and we have to make up for that money lost in those robberies.”
“Have they caught anyone yet?”
“No, and even if they are caught, we’ll never recover the money.” Prudie slipped her pad and pencil in her apron pocket. “Erich doesn’t make much peddling, but every little bit helps, and he spends most of his days making the most beautiful furniture. Let me show you.” She gestured over her shoulder as she strode to the counter. “Mr. Tilman printed these flyers for me advertising Erich’s furniture.” She proudly displayed the photographs of the pie safe and cedar chest.
Milly studied the ad. “How lovely these are. I can imagine you’ll get more orders than Erich can fill.”
“That’s the only drawback, isn’t it? But Erich is thinking of hiring Harold Jenkins as an apprentice. He says Harold has an appetite for wood working.”
“What a wonderful opportunity for the boy.” Milly giggled in a way that told Prudie something besides Harold Jenkins’s job opportunity made her giddy.
Milly answered Prudie’s question look with a shy glance. “Oh, Prudie, I’m about to bust with happiness.”
“You’re in the family way?”
Milly nodded vigorously. “Peter said I shouldn’t announce it yet, but I can hardly contain myself. I never expected it. I never expected to get married. I’m not a comely woman.” It was true Milly had little beauty, but her joy had transformed her. “Isn’t it wonderful how God gives us the desire of our hearts?”
No, everyone didn’t get the desire of her heart. Prudie went into her friend’s hug. “I’m happy for you. When?”
“Not until next spring.”
Unexpected envy wormed its way in Prudie. After assuring everyone she’d never become a mother, here she was wishing for a baby of her own.
Milly read her features. She laid a hand on Prudie’s forearm. “It won’t be long before you’ll be expecting you own. Won’t it be fun for our children to grow up together?”
Prudie nodded, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Other things must come first, like expanding this store. She stiffened her back. What was happening to her? Mingling with the store’s customers—these simple, country folk—had her looking at life differently. She lifted her chin and shoved thoughts about babies as far back in her mind as possible.
The bell jangled, and Sibbie came in with a gust of wind, an Indian woman trailing her. “Yoo hoo, ladies. I believe it’s going to rain. Just hope it doesn’t storm. Always hate late summer storms. Never know when they’ll bring snow.”
Prudie came out from behind the counter. “Let’s hope not this early. What can I do for you, Sibbie?” Though she spoke to Sibbie, she eyed the Indian, dressed like any other frontier woman, except her black hair hung in braids.
“This is Little Doe.” Sibbie nodded toward her companion. “She wants to know if she can sell her elixir in here for halves.”
“An elixir? Shouldn’t that be sold in the apothecary?”
“Dr. Sims wouldn’t let her sell the stuff in there.” Sibbie lowered her voice as she leaned in to Prudie. “He wouldn’t even let her come into the drug store. His family was killed by Indians.”
“Oh, I see.” Prudie took the bottle Little Doe shoved in her face. She uncorked the bottle and took a sniff, then jerked back.
“Herbs and bark.” Little Doe smiled, showing large white teeth.
And a generous amount of whiskey, too, unless Prudie missed her guess. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what the concoction contained. Alcohol was necessary to preserve the liquid, and for medicinal purposes, maybe it was all right.
Sibbie saw her hesitancy.
“It’s a good cure, especially for headache and gout. I swear by it.”
Milly nodded. “I do too. Both Peter and I take it.”
Prudie smiled. If the preacher used it, it couldn’t be too bad. “Well then, why not? How many bottles do you have, Little Doe?”
Little Doe started counting on her fingers, indicating she understood. “Have fifteen.”
“Good, then bring them in. I’ll find somewhere to put them. Did you need anything else, Sibbie?”
“I need a spool of white thread.” She turned to Milly. “You going to the quilting bee tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. Will you join us, Prudie?”
“Prudie’s newly married. She won’t want to leave that handsome mountain man.” Sibbie laughed.
The last thing Prudie wanted was to go to a quilting bee, but she had to foster the good-will of the ladies. Nearly half of sales went to women—Prudie had figured it up—so she wanted to meet all the females this town held. “I wouldn’t miss it. Where will it be?” She hustled to the fabrics section to fetch the thread.
“At my place.” Sibbie handed Prudie a coin with one hand and took the spool with the other.
“It sounds like fun. I think I told you one of my friends back at Cambridge designed dresses, and we girls got together and sewed them up.” Prudie was never allowed to do anything but the hemming, because her stitches weren’t the straightest in the world, but she could surely stitch a quilt.
When the ladies left, Prudie finished her inventory. They thought she was a happy new bride. And she should be happy. Erich was a wonderful husband, if one measured a husband’s value in how hard he worked and how good he was to his wife. What else did she expect of him?
But sometimes she’d catch him looking at her with sadness. Did he regret marrying her?
They were getting along fine, but love took time. If only they had more time together, but how, with all the work that had to be done? Erich realized, as she did, they could lose the store if they didn’t bring in more income. There would be plenty of time to take rides together, stroll along the riverbank, discuss the events of the day, explore their feelings. After their finances were assured.
The Annex Mail-Order Brides: Preque (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 0) Page 28
