by Kit Morgan
She left the apartment and was immediately hit by the icy wind, chilling her to the bone. She gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering and headed to the other end of town. When she got as far as the meeting hall she slipped across the street in hopes the buildings would block some of the wind.
She had almost reached the Todds’ house when she heard voices she recognized and ducked into an alley. “It’s a shame, a crying shame!” said Mrs. Bridger.
“Too bad,” Mr. Bridger agreed. “But she brought it on herself.”
“She so wanted to win the best gown contest. Can you believe that woman …?”
“No use crying over spilled milk,” Mr. Bridger interrupted. He sounded like he’d heard the same lines a hundred times already. “Let’s go to the dance.”
Aggie suppressed a laugh and listened to their retreating footsteps as they went down the street. With a shiver she emerged from the shadows and walked to the Todds’ door. The key was right under a flowerpot, as she’d been told. She inserted it in the lock and …
“Howdy!” a man squeaked.
Aggie swore she sprang a foot in the air. “Who’s that? Who are you?”
Albert Dunst stood up from where he’d been sitting beneath the front window. His worn clothes had camouflaged him well among the dead bushes and leaf litter. “Just me, Miss Shrewsbury. Nothin’ to be affeared of.”
Aggie took a few seconds to let her heart slow. “What are you doing here?”
“Waitin’ for ya, young lady. Why ain’t ya wearin’ yer dress? The dance’s already started.”
Aggie’s head swam. “What? What dress?”
“Oh, how silly of me.” He walked back to the window and lifted up a long black sack. He brushed it off, then offered it to her. “Here ya go. Kept it safe for ya.”
Still confused, Aggie looked in the sack … and found the dress she’d made for Mrs. Petroff. “Mr. Dunst, what have you done?”
“The Petroffs’ grandkid couldn’t make it – won’t be here ‘til the end of January. They figgered it’d be a shame to let such a gown go to waste, so they said I should bring it to ya. And so I have.”
She slowly nodded as she continued to stare. “Yes, so you have.”
“Then wear it for ‘em. If ya win, I’m sure Mrs. Petroff’ll split the prize with ya.”
“I … wait a minute. How did you know I was coming here?”
He shrugged. “It’s where yer stuff is. Though I guess yer stayin’ with Mrs. Cornell now – leastwise for the moment.” He winked. “Seein’ as there’s a fella waitin’ for ya at the dance who’s got other idears.”
Aggie could only stare at the dress. “How can you be so sure?”
“Oh, let’s just say I know a thing or two. Now why don’t ya go inside and get dressed? I’ll wait out her, help ya haul yer thin’s over to the dress shop, then walk ya to the grange hall. Whaddaya say?”
Aggie nodded numbly. Of all the bizarre blessings she’d received over the last few weeks, this one took the cake. If she wore this gown, she had a good chance of winning the contest. A contest Olivia had rather forcibly removed herself from. Forgiveness or not, she couldn’t help but chuckle at that. And if what Mr. Dunst had implied was true, if Eldon really was waiting there for her … “Oh, all right. Wait – I’ll need shoes …”
“Almost forgot. Now where’d I put those …” He patted his coat pockets. “… ah, here they are!” Aggie watched dumbfounded as he pulled a pair of slippers out of his back trouser pockets. “Catch!”
Aggie caught the shoes he tossed to her. She looked at them but couldn’t tell what color they were.
“Now hurry up and change – the dance is underway! Ya already missed the supper!”
Aggie nodded, still not sure if this was such a good idea. But if Mrs. Petroff really did want her to wear her granddaughter’s dress, who was she to argue? It was one more dress to show off for the shop. And maybe Eldon … don’t get your hopes up! she warned herself. She went inside, changed as fast as she could and returned.
Albert was waiting. “Well, don’t ya look wonderful … oh dear.” He stared at her hair. “That presents somethin’ of a problem. We need to fix yer hair!” He whipped a comb and brush out of his pockets, spied a tree stump, threw his threadbare coat over it and pointed at it. “Sit here – we got no time to lose!”
Well, what was one more bizarre event among all the others? Aggie sat and let Albert Dunst style her hair.
Chapter 14
“… But of course I’m used to having servants around. It’s a shame we lost our last girl, but there was nothing we could do about it …” Eldon shut his eyes tight against a brewing headache. If Olivia didn’t shut up, he thought his head would explode.
Then he had an idea! “Shouldn’t you be joining the other ladies? The contest is about to start.”
“Contest, oh yes! The contest!” She flipped her fan open and batted her eyelashes over the rim of it. It put him in mind of a donkey he’d seen during the war, blinking away road dust. “I’ll see you later, Eldon.”
Egads, I hope not, Eldon thought as he smiled. She’d been on him like skunk spray the entire evening, when all he wanted to do was get out of there and find Aggie. Bad enough he’d missed the tree judging yesterday due to his conversation with Jonathan – he didn’t want to go another day without seeing her.
He gritted his teeth and set his resolve – after the gown contest, he’d go. He was only staying to root for Emma along with Lucius. Hmmm … perhaps he should take Emma with him – it wouldn’t be proper to call on her when she was alone. No, Emma would want to stay with Lucius. Maybe Mrs. Cornell …
“Well, bust my buttons, will ya look at that!”
Eldon turned – and gasped. Aggie stood in the doorway of the meeting hall wearing the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen – shimmering green silk with a flowing skirt, a modest neckline, a trail of silk holly leaves down the sleeves and one side with red glass beads for berries, and a cameo of a manger scene pinned at the front. She was stunning in it, and he almost choked at the sight of her. Forget Emma or Mrs. Cornell – he wanted to speak with her right now!
Mrs. Petroff hurried over to her and gave her a hug, said something, grabbed her hand and guided her to the line of beautifully dressed women. His chest tightened as they went past, and he caught her eye and flashed her a smile. But she only looked shocked – what was that about?”
“Quiet! Quiet everyone!” Rev. Latsch called. “The judging is about to begin.” Eldon took his place alongside Willow Carlson and Emma. Since he’d missed judging the trees, he’d been volunteered to help with the gown competition. The contestants lined up, giving the judges their best smiles as they walked past. Mrs. Todd even winked at him, which made him chuckle.
When he reached Aggie, he stopped. “You look extraordinary, Miss Shrewsbury.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
Hmmm … what could be wrong? “Did you make it yourself?”
“Yes.”
“More than she did for some,” Olivia carped farther down the line. She was wearing a bright purple gown with a plunging neckline that was about as Christmas-y as an outdoor barbecue.
Eldon fought the urge to roll his eyes. She was being rude, but then, when wasn’t she? He took a step closer to Aggie and admired the cameo at her throat. “Beautiful.” He leaned a little closer and whispered. “As are you.”
Aggie trembled as her eyes softened. “Thank you.”
At some point Olivia had wormed her way next to them. “I’m sure you’ll want to speak with my father before the night is out. He can tell you the whole story.”
Eldon’s smile was tight-lipped. He’d speak to her father all right, but it had nothing to do with what she hoped for. He caught Aggie’s eye again, smiled and winked before moving down the line, wrinkling his nose at Olivia’s dress as he did.
Aggie didn’t know what to do. Was Eldon merely flirting, or something more? She didn’t have anyone to ask at the
moment – on one side of her, Mrs. Petroff was chattering away with Mary Latsch. On the other, Olivia simpered and made snide comments until Elizabeth – who had been next to Aggie until a minute before – mumbled something about the huge snowdrifts outside and how cold they could be if one found themselves tossed into them. Olivia shifted to sniffing and grumbling, which was at least quieter.
Finally Aggie excused herself and went to the table displaying the dessert contest entries. She spied Jonathan and smiled. “Thank heaven for a familiar face,” she said.
“Aggie, you look beautiful!” he gasped.
Aggie bit her lower lip and smiled. “Thank you. How are things?”
“I’d ask you the same. Ain’t seen you for a few days.”
“I’m sorry – I’ve just been busy with all these gowns. We’ll be able to get back to reading lessons after tonight – at least until the next work rush.”
Jonathan sighed in relief. “Thank the Lord, I was worried. By the way, I’m living at the stable now.”
“You are? What happened?”
“Nothing, really – just trying to save Pa some money. But it’s not so bad – and a whole lot quieter than home.” He laughed, then sobered. “Pa’s talking about leaving Cutter’s Creek come spring, but even with me working all winter, I don’t know where we’ll get enough money.”
Aggie could see the regret in his eyes. “Do you want to go?”
Jonathan shrugged. “I know there’s more for my folks in a bigger town. But I’d rather settle down – I’m tired of going hither and yon. And at least I’ve got a friend here.” He grinned at her. “Pa said if I can keep my job, I can stay. And get Olivia out of my hair.”
She nodded and smiled back. “I’ll be praying for God’s will for you – all of you.”
“Thanks, Aggie, I appreci-ow!”
“So sorry, young feller!” Albert Dunst stepped away from Jonathan’s toes. “Did that hurt?”
“Course it hurt, sir!”
“Very sorry.” He turned to Aggie. “I hear there’s fifty dollars for the lucky lady who wins the dessert contest.”
Jonathan groaned and shook his head. “I don’t think I can stand to watch that. Olivia made some sort of pie. You know what a terrible cook she is.”
“Yes, I do,” Aggie said.
“Too bad – we could sure use that money come spring.” Jonathan glanced around to make sure there was no sign of Olivia or his parents, then hugged Aggie. “Good luck. I hear the dress shop has an entry.”
Aggie studied the table. Her pie sat at the far end. “Yes, we do.”
“Can’t wait ‘til the judgin’s over!” Albert declared happily. “Then we get to eat ‘em!”
“Well, if you know what’s good for you,” Jonathan warned, “stay clear of the pie that says ‘Olivia Bridger.’ Unless you need to re-sole your shoes – it’ll probably work for that.”
Albert looked suitably alarmed. “Oh dear, er … yes, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jonathan left, and Aggie’s heart felt heavy. Not that it hadn’t already.
“Would ya like to sit with me, Miss Shrewsbury?” Albert asked. “I’m too jumpy to sit by myself. Can’t wait to see who wins!”
Aggie looked around the room. She hadn’t seen Eldon or the other judges for awhile and wondered where they’d gone. “All right.”
Albert smiled in delight and was off like a shot.
Aggie wanted to go home and be miserable, but Elizabeth was working through the crowd toward her. They hadn’t had a chance to speak yet. She’d stay until after the prizes were announced, then leave. She was so mixed up over Eldon and what his intentions were that she couldn’t think straight.
“And the winner for the best gown is …” There was a drum roll from the corner where a couple of fiddlers, a drummer and the piano was set up. Rev. Latsch cleared his throat. “Mrs. Petroff – for the gown worn by Miss Shrewsbury!”
The townspeople applauded. Mrs. Petroff, with a beaming smile and tears in her eyes, took Aggie’s hand and led her to the front to accept their prize.
When Aggie returned to her seat, Olivia was waiting. “I suppose you think you’ve gotten away with it!”
Aggie squinted her eyes shut. “Go away, Olivia.”
Olivia didn’t. “What did you promise him – a tumble in the hay if he voted for that rag?”
“Olivia …” Aggie warned. Despondent though she was, one more insult from the little brat and she was going to stand up and slap her face clean off.
But she wasn’t the only one who’d had enough. “What a wicked, vicious child you are!” Mrs. Petroff said, her dudgeon high and rising.
“Forget about being tossed out onto a boardwalk, dear – next time it’s sure to be a snowbank,” Elizabeth added.
Outnumbered, Olivia stomped away to go annoy someone else.
“And now the award for the desserts!” Rev. Latsch called over the crowd.
“Snowbanks?” Mrs. Petroff asked.
“It’s quite a story,” Aggie said, trying to relax.
“There is something very wrong with that girl,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head.
“Her mother is like that, too,” Aggie grumbled.
“That would explain it.”
“Would it explain why she dressed up like a San Francisco madam?” Mrs. Petroff asked, causing Elizabeth to almost choke.
“… Olivia Bridger!” Reverend Latsch called.
“What?!” all three women said. They watched several people surround Olivia and pat her on the back. Mr. Bridger let out a loud “Whoopee!” across the room.
“Miss Bridger!” Rev. Latsch yelled. “Come claim your prize.”
Aggie looked at Elizabeth. “She won?” she said in astonishment.
Albert stood and smiled. “Looks like Mr. Bridger’ll get his wish come spring to move back to Oregon City. I think that prize makes a fine Christmas present for ‘em, don’t you? And for you, Miss Shrewsbury – pretty soon ya’ll never have to worry ‘bout Olivia or her mother again.”
Aggie’s head slowly cocked to one side. “Mr. Dunst … what did you do?”
He gave her a sheepish grin and said in a low voice, “Oh, just a li’l matter of switchin’ a couple name cards. Tell me true, you thought of doing it yourself, didn’t you?”
Good heavens! How did the man know? She had thought of it, fleeting thought that it was, but still …
“Funniest part is,” Albert went on, “Olivia’s gonna discover any second now that the pie she won with ain’t the pie she made – and that yer name’s on hers, so she’ll know who did.” He paused. “I think we both know she won’t say a word. But she’ll know …”
Aggie nodded as a grin spread across her face. This was worth missing out on the prize money! Wait a minute … how did he know about Olivia and her mother?
Albert winked. “Good work, Aggie. Good work.” He patted his belly. “Now we get to eat the entries!” He disappeared into the crowd. Aggie could only stare after him, still perplexed.
“Hello, Aggie.”
She jumped and turned toward the voice. “Eldon!”
“Did I startle you?”
“Yes.” She stepped away, prepared to leave, but he took her arm and gently drew her close. “What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” He reached into his pocket.
“To tell you the truth, I have no idea.”
“Then let me make it clear.” He dropped to one knee as he held up a gold ring, ignoring the gasps and whispers from the surrounding townspeople. He took Aggie’s hand in his. “Agatha Shrewsbury, you’d make me the happiest man alive if you’d consent to be my wife.”
There was a wail from the dessert table. “Nooooo!”
Aggie recognized it, but didn’t know if Olivia was commenting on the dessert deception or Eldon’s proposal. And frankly, she didn’t care.
“I know we haven’t courted much, Aggie. I wanted to call on you these last several days, but duty called.
And yesterday I had a good long talk with your friend, young Mr. Bridger.”
Aggie gulped. “Did he tell you …?”
“Everything. You’re a strong woman, Aggie Shrewsbury, to have put up with all that for so long. But I swear I’ll never treat you the way they did. I don’t want to pressure you or nothing, but if you’ll have me, I promise to be the best husband I can for you.”
Aggie began to choke up. “Eldon …”
“You’ve been made to slave and go hungry for too long. Let me take care of you now. I’ll see to it you’ll never want for anything again.”
A sob escaped. She couldn’t help it. “Oh, Eldon …”
“I love you, Aggie. “I think I fell in love with you over that first cup of coffee.” Eldon stood and took her into his arms as she broke down in tears.
Just then Mr. Bridger dragged a befuddled Olivia past them, heading out of the grange hall. “But Pa! He loves me, not her!”
“No, he doesn’t,” Mr. Bridger replied. “Now hush.” And off they went.
“Oh, Eldon,” Aggie said once they were gone. “I do love you.”
Elizabeth and the other women stood around them, smiling at the blooming of new love in the dead of a Montana winter.
And unnoticed in the shadows, Albert Dunst finished off a piece of what supposedly was Olivia’s pie – in reality, the recipe he’d given the woman soon to be Agatha Judrow. He brushed the crumbs from his hands, then pulled out of his pocket a piece of parchment covered in Gothic script. “Finest Christmas recipe I’ve ever concocted. Works every time. With a little help.”
Albert glanced up at the ceiling, winked, and then walked out of the meeting hall into the street and down the road. All the while humming a long-forgotten hymn on the way to his next assignment.
