The Annex Mail-Order Brides: Preque (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 0)

by Elaine Manders

  She’d overheard some murmurings from a couple of busybodies that she tried to wear the pants in the marriage, that Erich took orders from her better than Eustace did. That wasn’t true. She’d given Erich every consideration. He agreed with everything they did. Those who thought her uppity were just gossip mongers.

  What really incensed her was the disrespect they showed her husband. They thought that because he lived on the mountain for so many years, he was uncivilized. He had trouble mixing with people for sure, but he was as refined as any man she’d ever known. Yes, that included Harvard men. He was certainly better read than they were. She dared anyone to say otherwise.

  As for love—. She respected Erich, but she didn’t feel the love yet, though maybe she’d moved an inch or two in that direction.

  Eustace came in and dropped a barrel of potatoes so hard it shook the floor. Prudie was getting tired of his attitude. “Eustace, why wasn’t the silverware ordered as I requested?”

  “I didn’t think you’d need it for awhile, and we needed more feed mash.”

  “So you changed the order without mine or Erich’s approval?” Her voice rose to a screech.

  “Yes ma’am, I did,” he shouted. “I know these customers, and they’ll need to store up feed for the winter.” He grabbed Little Doe’s elixir. “Are you selling this snake oil?”

  Erich came in from the back. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s all right, dear.” Prudie’s tone returned to normal. “Just a disagreement.”

  “No, it’s not right,” Eustace said. “She’s getting the orders all wrong. Buying stuff people don’t need and won’t buy.”

  Prudie felt the heat rising in her neck, but now wasn’t the time to make a scene.

  She didn’t have to. Erich’s face was as flushed as hers. “Eustace, I’ve been meaning to mention this for some time now. You’re forgetting your place. Prudie is your employer. Besides that, she’s my wife. Don’t you ever let me hear you speak disrespectfully to her again, unless you want another job.”

  Both Eustace and Prudie stared at him. She’d never seen Erich angry before. She saw something else. Without her even realizing it, this man had fallen in love with her.

  Chapter 14

  Erich turned the wagon around as the first rain drops fell. He was as surprised as anyone that he sold so much to the outlying farms. Prudie wanted him to jack up the prices, but he couldn’t do that. These people worked hard, and money was dear to them. But Prudie meant well, and money was dear to them as well. They’d soon have a comfortable cushion, and he’d stop the peddling.

  He urged the horses into a faster clip. The thick clouds told him he’d be drenched before he got home. When he turned off onto the road leading to Bent Fork, he spied a horseman coming from the crossroad. The man lifted his hat and waved.

  Erich pulled on the reins and waited for the man to catch up.

  The fellow looked none too happy as his scowl drew thick brows into a hard line. “What are you doing, trying to run me out of business?”

  Taken aback, Erich twisted his head around to scan the countryside, as if to search for a reason for the man’s hostility. “No. How could I do that? What are you talking about?”

  “I own the dry goods store over in Dry Creek. You been selling to my customers, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  The rain was coming down harder now, and Erich swiped his face. “I didn’t think about cutting into your profits.”

  “Well, you might’ve thought about it.”

  Yes, he should, but the truth was he couldn’t think straight when Prudie asked for anything, not when the softness came into her lovely green eyes. “I see your point. I’ll stop the peddling. No harm intended, I assure you.”

  “Good. You do that.” The man wheeled around and took off, his horse’s hooves throwing up a clump of mud that struck Erich on the cheek.

  Probably deserved that. He was going to have a talk with Prudie.

  Chapter 15

  After closing the mercantile for the day, Prudie stopped by the boardinghouse café to pick up some beef stew for supper. Erich would be home soon and hungry as a grizzly. She didn’t have time to cook anything but cornbread to go with the stew. Besides, she wanted to reward him for sticking up for her during Eustace’s rant.

  The aroma filling the café set off hunger pangs. She hoped Erich wouldn’t be late, or she might have to sneak some of that stew before supper. After hooking the basket containing their food over her arm, she headed for the door.

  “Yoo hoo,” Sibbie stopped her in her tracks, and came jogging toward her, flapping an envelope in her right hand. “You got a fat letter from Philadelphia, hon.”

  Prudie hesitated long seconds before taking the missive, surprised Carianne would have answered so soon. “Thank you, Sibbie.”

  “From your college mate, right? You don’t seem very glad.” Sibbie crossed her arms, her penetrating stare telling Prudie she was curious.

  Prudie clutched the envelope to her chest. “Oh, but I am. I want to get home so I can read this. Good-night.” With a parting nod, she scurried out the door and took the back alley towards home.

  She’d written to Carianne right after marrying Erich, apologizing for her secretive departure. Something about seeking forgiveness opened one’s heart, and before she’d finished the letter, Prudie had poured out the details surrounding her confrontation with Samuel. Her decision to become a mail-order bride. Her hopes for the store. Her fears for her marriage. She’d spewed ink on page after page, revealing intimate details she’d never have given utterance to face-to-face.

  Her hunger forgotten, Prudie sat in the parlor, the letter in hand, as minutes ticked by. What must Carianne think of her? She didn’t want to know, but curiosity overcame her apprehension, and she broke the seal. The words swam over the page for a moment before she began reading.

  Dearest Prudie

  Your letter so delighted and astonished me. Of course, I forgive you for not sharing this with me earlier. How could I do otherwise after learning that you are happily married with the opportunity to help build the type of business you’ve dreamed of?

  Indeed, I’m delighted beyond words, and only astonished because you’ve always refused to entertain the idea of marriage. God works everything for good in our lives, if only we’d let Him.

  As to envying me for my money, please believe me when I tell you that is more of a burden than a blessing at present. I spend much of my time in a roomful of men, arguing over what I should do with my money. All their advice is more likely to bring on a headache than answer my questions, but rest assured, I shall listen to the Spirit before I make any decisions.

  I can set your mind at ease regarding your brother. He is engaged to Miss Lillian Crowder, a charming young lady whose father is known for his strict business dealings. You should be assured Mr. Crowder will keep Samuel on the straight-and-narrow.

  Dear Prudie, you ask me if you are mistaken to think a man who accosted you years ago should still bother you. You are right to view it as a violation, and you are not to blame. Your only mistake is failing to forgive the man and put him out of your thoughts. As you’ve already discovered, it’s a wedge between you and your husband.

  I have no personal experience to draw on in advising you, but I feel strongly that the Lord would expect you to discuss this honestly with your husband. It may draw you two closer together in the end. Rest assured, I’ll be praying for you.

  I miss you and Ramee and Adela so much. Let’s get together at some central location, perhaps sometimes next year. I’ll fund the occasion—one of the benefits of money. Each of you must bring your husband.

  I shall be the old maid of our set, it seems. As you know, I’ve admired only one man, and he doesn’t know I exist, nor would he want to.

  Please write often and let me know how you get along. I’m enclosing your brother’s new address as I’m certain you’re willing to forgive him now. Life takes many unexpected turns, but I�
�m happy you’ve turned a bad circumstance into a blessing.

  Much love and prayers sent your way.

  Carianne

  Tell Erich? The thought had never occurred to Prudie. Maybe she ought to tell him, but would a man understand? At least he’d know she had a reason for keeping him at arm’s length, other than finding him repulsive. She feared that’s what he thought. Even though his beard now hid the unsightly scar, he believed she wasn’t attracted to him as a wife should be.

  The opposite was true. Her feelings for Erich had grown, and just a look or a smile could jolt her senses. Kick her pulse up a notch. He was a contrary man. Big and brawny, yet tender and gentle—and much better looking than any other man in this town. Patient. Sad. She was the cause of his unhappiness.

  Unfortunately, the things she admired about him were the very things that made him a poor businessman. If she didn’t keep prodding him, the store would never take off. Wasn’t that what a wife was for, to encourage her husband? To make up for his deficiencies?

  It was a matter of time and priorities. In time, she’d find a way to sort out her feelings and show her husband the affection due him. Business must come first, though. Helping Erich become a successful businessman would build his confidence much better than her kisses.

  But Carianne’s letter gave her something else to think about.

  Outside noises caught her attention. The creak of the stable’s door. A horse’s snort. Erich was home. They’d have to talk, but she was too tired tonight.

  Chapter 16

  Erich finished his stew. He noticed Prudie picked at her food, though she’d chatted in her usual manner. An underlying tone let him know she worried about something other than the trouble with Eustace. Now he had to give her something else to worry about.

  “Good supper, Prudie. I believe your cornbread is better than Sibbie’s.”

  “I am getting better, but not that good. Seems I wasn’t putting enough bacon drippings in it before.”

  “Well it sure was good.” When she started gathering the dishes, he stopped her. “Why don’t you wait on cleaning up until later tonight? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  A worry line creased her brow, not that anything could detract from her beauty. “All right. Just let me get these dishes to soaking and I’ll be right in.”

  He left her and made it to his chair. The clatter of dishes accompanied the sound of a frog’s song just outside the window. He lifted the Bible from the small occasional table beside his chair and opened the pages, hoping for inspiration.

  He didn’t know what kept Prudie so stand-offish. His beard had grown back, hiding the ugly scar. He’d never be handsome, but he was as presentable as any other man in town. No, that wasn’t his wife’s problem. She didn’t want him as a real husband—just a business partner.

  The creak of Prudie’s chair pulled him from his search. She’d already changed to her nightgown, and her hair was down, cascading in waves over her shoulders. The lamp’s pool of light caught the shimmer of her vibrant tresses, reminding him of the sunset over snow-capped mountains. They’d been married over a month, and this was the first time he’d seen her hair down. He couldn’t help staring.

  She met his gaze as she took up a piece of crocheting she’d been working on. “What do you want to discuss, dear?”

  He wished he was her dear, but he knew it was just a title afforded to a husband, and as far as Prudie was concerned, they might as well be brother and sister. Not that she held much affection for her brother. She had good reason from what she’d told Erich about how she’d been betrayed.

  Maybe he’d give her a reason to think less of him after what he had to say. “I’m going to stop peddling around the country.”

  Her tawny brows shot up, and her shapely mouth fell open. He took advantage of her silence to explain his encounter with the Dry Branch shop owner.

  “Of all the nerve.” Prudie got to her feet, and the crochet hook clinked on the floor. Her yarn followed, rolling across the floor where Rusty nosed it. “No one can tell you where you can sell. This is a free country.”

  “Perhaps there isn’t a law against it, but I still have to treat my neighbor as myself, and I wouldn’t like someone stealing my customers.”

  She came over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. “You’re not stealing customers. You’re doing the customers a favor. They’re your neighbors too.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, but he still knew right from wrong. “Let’s have our Bible reading now, Prudie. We’ll go over the scripture, then you can tell me where I’m wrong.”

  With a twist of her lips, she returned to her chair. The book fell open to the Sermon on the Mount. Hard words he’d always thought, and he didn’t know if he interpreted them correctly. Maybe Prudie had a different view.

  But Prudie offered no thoughts. In fact, she looked down at Rusty, still playing with the yarn, as if she weren’t listening at all. The same look she always wore when he read scripture. He closed the book and laid it back on the table. “Prudie, I get the notion you can’t express your feelings about spiritual matters.”

  Her head snapped up. “I’m sorry, Erich. I suppose I was wool-gathering.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed you gathering wool every night. I’m surprised you don’t have enough wool to be crocheting an afghan.” Then he asked the question he’d been avoiding, because he was afraid of the answer. “Do you believe?”

  A sigh lifted her shoulders and slowly deflated. “I do believe in Jesus as my Savior, if that’s what you’re asking, Erich. But you’re right. I don’t like to discuss spiritual matters. It’s personal. The things between God and me are…well just between God and me.”

  “I can understand that, but I’d hoped it might be something a husband and wife could discuss.”

  “Something happened in my past that affects my opinion, unfairly perhaps, but it does.”

  “What?”

  Her deep sigh came out like a shudder. “When I was sixteen, my father allowed me to go to my first ball. I was so excited because a visiting minister was to be there. He was young and handsome and considered the catch of the season. I never expected to catch his attention, of course. I was just a schoolgirl.”

  A pall fell over them so thick it seemed to make breathing hard. For some strange reason, he knew what she was going to say before she said it. But it was best that she get it out. It would be cleansing perhaps. “Go on.”

  “He danced with me twice, and all the young ladies were jealous. In my silly naivety, I was flattered. Thinking I was clever, I told him about a place in the garden where a couple could speak in private. I hoped that he would kiss me.”

  Erich saw her swallow as the bands of muscles flexed in her throat. “We’d hardly gotten there when he pulled me close, and I expected his kiss, but not that his…hands explored… I twisted and squirmed and when I’d broken free and ran away, he laughed after me.”

  “That was awful, Prudie.” His hands gripped the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. If he didn’t, he’d rush to her, take her into his arms. But she wouldn’t have that either, so he held on.

  “That wasn’t the worst of it. He stayed for a time to assist our pastor, and each service, he’d look straight at me and smile. I hated myself for not exposing him.” She sent a direct glance at Erich. “Ever since then I’ve distrusted ministers and all people who are vocal with their faith, I guess. I simply don’t want to hear it.”

  “I can understand that, but there’s always been wolves in sheep’s clothing. We don’t look on every sheep as one.”

  She laughed, a short, strained laugh. “I know that, and I see Pastor Lyons as sincere as any could be.”

  That was the truth. The good pastor had visited Erich that afternoon to prod him. Wanted to know if Erich had a problem. Evidently, despite how hard they’d tried to hide it, people noticed something wrong between Prudie and him. Erich knew what the pastor meant to ask…was his marriage a
happy one? It was, if all one expected was a marriage of convenience, but with each day, he wanted more.

  “This might sound like a hard thing to do, Prudie, but you have to forgive that polecat who harmed you.”

  Her mouth pinched into a tight bow. “That’s exactly what Carianne suggested, but how can I do that, even if I could, without confronting him—something I’ll never do.”

  Erich raked a hand through his hair. Then the answer flashed to his mind as clear as day. He hunched to the edge of his chair, his hands on his knees, palms up. “You write him a letter, just telling him the memory of that encounter isn’t going to bother you anymore, and you forgive him.”

  “I don’t know his address, Erich.”

  “Your friend, Carianne, sounds like a woman of means. Send it to her. She can find his address and send it for you.” He took a moment to let her digest that. “Send her another letter written to this man’s church. You tell the leaders of that church what happened. They need to know what kind of man he is.”

  Her eyes widened as she pressed into the back of her chair. “That would ruin him. What he did was deplorable, but perhaps not bad enough to ruin his career.”

  “It was bad enough to still bother you, and it may have bothered other young ladies after you.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I don’t know if I could even write those letters.”

  He started to add some words to reassure Prudie, but before he’d managed to open his mouth, the door flew open and a heaving Eustace, shirt torn and hat twisted in his hand, burst in on them. “I was robbed.” Eustace drew in breath like he’d been running from a long distance.