by Morgan, Kit
“She doesn’t say a word in here about cooking!” Maude complained.
“If she can clean and sew then, of course, she can cook,” pointed out Martha.
The three sat in Mercy Vander’s elaborate parlor. Not only was Mr. Vander mayor, he and his wife had the nicest house in town. They even had a cook who also served as a maid, and a governess for their son, Garrett. Consequently, the woman was relieved when the young master got older and went off to college. It meant she was down to cook and maid again, though if Mrs. Vander had her way, she’d be the butler, too.
“More tea, Mrs. Vander?” the servant asked.
“Why, thank you, Betsy. Don’t mind if I do.” Betsy poured her another cup before she moved on to the guests.
“I think we should write the young lady back and accept,” suggested Martha.
“Let’s not be too hasty. What about other applicants?” asked Maude. “Has anyone else written?”
“No, Mrs. Ridgley sent a note along with the letter,” Mercy told her. “It says Miss Longfellow is the only bride available. If we reject this one, who knows how long we’ll have to wait for another to come along.”
Maude set down her teacup and sighed. “Very well, then. Martha, take a letter.”
“Why do I have to take a letter? I wrote the last one.”
“Oh, Betsy, dear?” Mercy asked. “Would you mind?”
Betsy set down the teapot and went to a small desk near the fireplace. She took out a piece of stationary, picked up a pen, dipped it in an inkpot, and turned to her employer.
“Isn’t she a dear?” Mercy asked her friends. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Betsy stood at the ready, and fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Maude turned to her. “Dear, Miss Longfellow,” she dictated. “I think you’d make me a very happy man …”
“Should he sound eager?” interrupted Martha. “The word ‘happy’ makes him sound too eager.”
“A man out here ought to be happy for a wife,” countered Mercy. “Any wife!”
“She’s going to make him happy, and what woman wants to marry a grump?” added Maude.
Betsy sat and stared at the three, her mind racing to decipher who the women were talking about. If she were a man, she’d think twice before letting a group of old biddies attend to something as private as one’s personal love life. What idiot let himself get talked into allowing them the task of obtaining a mail-order bride?
“Betsy,” her employer called across the room. “Leave in the word ‘happy’.”
Betsy scribbled it down.
“My dear Miss Longfellow,” Maude began again. “Ah, let’s see, a happy man, yes … ah ha! And I think we shall be very happy together. You’ll be a fine addition to the church and community.”
Mercy stared at her. “That’s not very romantic.”
Betsy shook with suppressed laughter. The poor sap they suckered was even letting them answer his bride’s letter for him? Was he out of his mind? Who was this man?
“Romance is irrelevant at this point,” Maude snapped. “The important thing is to have her delivered … I mean shipped out … I mean brought here.”
“We all know what you meant,” Martha stated as she reached for her cup. “Which of us is she going to stay with when she arrives? We can’t just spring her on the poor man.”
“Why not?” asked Mercy.
Betsy’s mouth dropped open as her brow rose in amusement. Was she saying what she thought she was saying?
“Pastor Luke has a lot on his plate; we have to be considerate of that,” added Maude.
Betsy snorted with laughter, and almost fell out of her chair. All three heads turned to her as she quickly righted herself and resumed her position.
“She can stay with us,” added Maude. “If need be, we can rotate until Pastor Luke and this Miss Longfellow marry.”
Betsy could stand it no longer. “What are you talking about? Can’t Pastor Luke send for this woman himself? He’s not that busy!”
“Oh no, that would never do!” Mercy exclaimed. “You see, he doesn’t …” she quickly glanced at her counterparts. They sat as stoically as ever. “That is to say … he can’t be bothered.”
Betsy stood. “Mrs. Vander,” she started then looked at all three faces in turn. “Has Pastor Luke given his consent for you to do this for him?”
The matrons glanced at one another with fleeting looks. “Well,” Mercy began. “Like I said, he can’t be bothered with such trivial things right now.”
“Trivial? A mail-order bride is trivial?!” Betsy gasped.
“I must say, Mercy, your hired help’s respect is sadly lacking,” huffed Maude.
“Now, Betsy,” Mercy began in a panicked voice. “Promise us you won’t breathe a word about this to anyone! Especially Pastor Luke!”
Betsy was about to comment when Maude cut her off. “If you do, we’ll see you fired!”
“You’ll do no such thing!” Mercy squeaked. “Why, Betsy’s been with us since we came west from St. Louis!”
“Dock her pay, then!” countered Maude. “We’ve got to get this settled and done with. Who was in charge of the train and stage tickets?”
“I was,” answered Martha. “I’ll go down to the station first thing tomorrow morning and purchase them.”
“It’s settled then,” said Maude. “Betsy, sign that letter, Pastor Luke Adams.”
Betsy could only stare. “You three are some kind of trouble, and you’re gonna be in a heap of it if your husbands find out.”
“They aren’t going to find out, are they?” Maude said with her eyes narrowed to slits.
“Don’t look at me,” said Betsy. “I ain’t gonna be the one to tell them. Besides, they’ll find out just as soon as that mail-order bride steps off the stage and goes looking for poor Pastor Luke!”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure one of us is there to meet her so that doesn’t happen,” said Martha.
Betsy shook her head. “You do that, and good luck. Because once Pastor Luke finds out what you three have been up to, he’s gonna be preaching nothing but fire and brimstone every Sunday for a month!
Two
Independence, Oregon June 4, 1871
Winnie got off the stage, her back stiff, and rotated her neck to get the kinks out. It had been a long, hot, bumpy journey since leaving New Orleans, and she was ecstatic to reach her final destination. If she wasn’t so tired, she’d at least act excited, but the only thing she could get excited about at the moment was a warm bath and a soft bed.
She popped her neck and glanced around. Several men talked with the stage driver as two women walked by, with several children in tow. Across the street, a dog lay at the feet of a man sitting on a bench, whittling in front of a barbershop. No one paid her any mind.
Hmmm. Where was her intended? Winnie turned in a circle and scanned the area again. The stage had pulled up in front of a hotel. Could he possibly be inside? But why would he?
Then it dawned on her. “It’s Sunday!” She threw a hand in the air. “Of course, he’s in church!” She picked up her satchel, looked up one side of the street, then turned and looked down the other. “Where is the church?” Winnie shrugged and, remembering that the women and children who’d passed were wearing what looked like their Sunday best, she went in that direction.
Sure enough, she reached the end of the street, rounded the bend, and there, at the end of a lane, sat the prettiest little white church Winnie had ever seen. “Oh,” she breathed as she took in the sight. There was a lovely two-story house nearby, with a small carriage house in the back. From what she could see, there looked to be fruit trees out back as well. “How lovely! Thank you, Aunt Eugina!”
Her aunt was right, but then she always was. A new start was just what Winnie needed, and as she took in the lovely scene before her, she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d marry the town pastor, become Mrs. Luke Adams, live in that lovely house and hear her new husband prea
ch wonderful sermons every Sunday. She sighed to herself as she walked toward the church. Her new life was about to begin!
She reached the church steps and could hear a man’s voice calling out words of encouragement. Luke Adams. It had to be! She stood and listened to his resonating voice a moment before ascending the steps to go inside. The man sounded heavenly. But, why shouldn’t he? He was, after all, a pastor.
Winnie gently pulled the door open and slipped inside. The scent of polished wood, soap, leather, and a hint of lavender surrounded her. A few people sitting in the back pews turned to look at her. One woman smiled and scooted over to make a place to sit. Good thing, too; the church was filled to the rafters.
Winnie tucked the satchel under the pew in front of her, smiled her thanks at the woman, and then realized it was the woman with the two children she’d seen earlier.
“And I must add …” came the pastor’s booming voice, “the Good Book does have its say about the unmarried and widows in the world. I understand what Paul meant when he told them that they should remain as he was, for an unmarried man is concerned about the things of the Lord, has more time for ministry and how he can please the Almighty. But the Good Book also says a married man is concerned more with his wife, the things of the world, and how he can please the woman in his house. I’m paraphrasing, of course, but you all know what I …”
His eyes caught Winnie’s and locked. She was speechless, and had to press her lips together to keep her mouth from flopping open. Luke Adams was the handsomest man she’d ever laid eyes on.
Her mouth fell open anyway.
He swallowed hard, and continued, his voice cracking. “His interests … can become divided …”
Winnie blushed a deep red as a chill went up her spine. Their eyes were still locked.
“And … an unmarried woman, well … she’s also concerned about serving the Lord…”
He looked away, as if forcing himself, and focused his attention on the people sitting in the front pews. Several of whom had turned in their seats to see what had caught their pastor’s undivided attention. Including three matronly women; one of whom let out a disgusted snort before facing front again.
Winnie wanted to slide down and hide, but what could she do? He must have recognized her as his mail-order bride, and was as speechless as she! Oh, how wonderful! Her stomach fluttered at the thought, and she felt herself blush anew.
“Let us pray,” he said. “And thank the Lord for this blessed time together and oh! Don’t forget Mrs. Dobson’s big toe! Pray she doesn’t step in any more of Mr. Dobson’s inventions for catching mice.” He looked at a couple sitting on the right side of the church. “But don’t let this keep you from trying, Henry. I’m sure your next invention will work just fine.”
A thin little man with spectacles smiled and nodded. A large woman sat next to him, a sour look in her face. Winnie wondered if her foot was elevated, but couldn’t tell from where she was sitting. She returned her gaze to the pulpit. Her future husband was staring at her again. He held the look for a moment, then bowed his head and began to pray. Winnie, too, bowed her head, and prayed she wouldn’t make a fool of herself when they got the chance to speak to each other. She was tired, hungry, but oh so excited. Enough to make her stutter kick in.
“Amen,” she heard him say. She looked up at the same time he did, and their eyes locked once more, until someone in the front pew called his name. Winnie sighed. It was now or never, but … shouldn’t she wait and let him take care of his congregation? Hmmm, perhaps she should, and maybe then she’d calm down enough to be able to talk normal. Winnie reached down and grabbed her satchel
The woman with the two children stood. “Are you new here?”
Winnie jumped at the question and sat up with a start. “Oh … ah … yes.” She sucked in a breath, just in case, and forced a smile.
“I thought so. I saw you get off the stage.”
“Oh?” Winnie pushed out, her breath escaping.
“Is something wrong?” the woman asked.
Winnie shook her head and smiled.
“Mama, I’m hungry!” said a small boy at her side.
“Hush, Jacob. I’m talking to the nice lady,” the woman told him, then gave her attention back to Winnie. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Hester Gale, and this is Jacob and Ella.”
She took in the faces of the two children. They were both blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and adorable, their mother much the same. Winnie smiled and breathed easy. “I’m Winifred Longfellow, but you can call me Winnie. My … my mother’s name was Hester.”
Hester smiled. “It was? I used to hate it as a child, but grew into it , I guess.” She looked at her children. “What do you say to the nice lady?”
“How do you do?” blurted Jacob as he peeked around his mother to get a better look.
“How you do?” squeaked little Ella.
Winnie couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m very well, thank you. My, what good manners you have!”
Ella giggled as Jacob picked at his mother’s reticule. “You’ll have to excuse them,” said Hester. “They don’t say much after introductions; but once they get used to a person, you can’t keep them quiet.”
“They’re delightful,” said Winnie. She glanced at the front of the church. Pastor Adams was surrounded by the three matronly women she’d seen sitting in the front pew. One of them was speaking quite adamantly about something, but with everyone leaving the service, she couldn’t tell what they were talking about. She swallowed hard, her nerves on edge again. Would he like her? Come to think of it, why would he have her arrive on a Sunday when he was preaching? Was he the disorganized sort? She certainly hoped not! She hated being disorganised.
“Do you have family in town?” Hester asked.
“Oh, ah … no. Not exactly.”
“Mama,” Jacob whined as he pulled on her skirt. “I’m powerful hungry!”
Hester sighed. “Hush now, can’t you see I’m not finished talking with Miss Longfellow?” She gave her attention back to Winnie. “I’d best take these two home and feed them.”
“I understand,” she said as she moved out of the pew into the aisle. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You, too,” said Hester as she ushered her children past and headed for the main doors of the church.
Winnie watched them go, then straightened her shoulders and turned. Time for another introduction …
“Oh, miss?” a bird-like voice asked.
Winnie looked over her shoulder, and then turned. A petite woman with greying hair stood smiling up at her. She was well-dressed and smelled of lilacs. “Yes?”
The woman glanced this way and that, and then whispered, “Are you Miss Longfellow?”
Winnie also glanced about. Why was she whispering? “Yes.”
The woman grabbed her arm and started to pull her toward the doors. “Good, come with me!”
“But … but … what about Mr. Adams?”
“Pastor Luke, dear, and he’s busy right now. I’m his duly-appointed representative. Now come along.”
“Representative? But he’s standing right there,” she said as she pointed to the front of the church.
“I know, all the more reason we have to leave,” the small woman squeaked as she dragged her from the church.
Once outside, she again glanced this way and that as if she were on some secret mission, then continued to pull Winnie along. “Good heavens!” Winnie cried. “What are you doing?”
“Hiding you from the others!”
“Others? What others? What is this about?”
The tiny woman spun to face her. “I’ve made a horrible mistake! I thought you’d be here tomorrow!” She turned and lunged forward, dragging Winnie with her. For a tiny thing, she was incredibly strong.
Winnie’s body lurched forward, and she had to grab her hat before it came loose from its pins. “But I don’t understand. I’m Luke Adams’s mail-order bride! Shouldn’t we be introduced?”
> “Not yet!”
Well, at least the woman knew who she was, and the pastor did look busy standing in the midst of chattering parishioners. But … was it any reason to drag her from the church like she was hiding something? “Would it be too much to ask where we’re going?”
“My house!” the woman answered as she looked nervously over her shoulder. “It’s the safest place!”
“Safest?” Winnie repeated as she stumbled along behind her. “Safe from what?”
“Maude and Martha!” As if to make her point, the little thing went faster.
Winnie almost tripped, and as a result her hat half-fell from her head. “Oh!”
“Sorry! Must hurry!”
“Hello, there, Mrs. Vander!” a voice called from the mercantile.
“Can’t talk now, Morgan!” she called back. “I’m on a mission of mercy!”
Winnie glanced at a handsome, dark-haired young man standing in the store’s doorway. He stared at them, a confused look on his face, and gave a weak wave. She smiled back as she tried to right her hat. The mysterious Mrs. Vander trekked on.
They went to the end of the street, turned, and went down another. Houses lined each side of the short avenue, and Winnie wished she had time to take it all in, but Mrs. Vander was determined they get to wherever it was they were going.
At the end of the pretty street, she finally stopped to catch her breath. “I’m … I’m terribly sorry … for doing this… to you, but Martha and Maude …”
“Please, take a moment, will you?” Winnie told her, her own breaths coming in short pants. “Then tell me … what this is about.”
Mrs. Vander nodded her thanks, and continued to suck in some much-needed air. When she’d finally had enough, she turned toward a gate. “Let’s go inside.”
Winnie took one last deep breath before staring up at the lovely home in front of her. “Oh my goodness … is … this your house?”
“Yes, now let’s hurry.” She let go of Winnie’s arm, opened the gate, and went through. Winnie followed. The home was white, wondrous, and trimmed in pink. Rose bushes graced the front yard and along the porch. She followed Mrs. Vander up the steps to the front door. Pretty white wicker chairs graced one side of the porch, a swing the other. Winnie had scarcely taken it in when Mrs. Vander opened the door and yanked her inside. “Betsy!” the woman screeched.
