Seven Brides for Seven Mail-Order Husbands Romance Collection

by Davis, Susan Page; Dietze, Susanne; Franklin, Darlene

  “Let me read the letter to you. How about that?”

  She surveyed the table as, one by one, they nodded in agreement. Alvin crossed his arms over his chest. The buttons strained. Not only was he getting taller but he was putting on more muscle. Soon he’d need to make decisions for himself about his future, regardless of where he lived.

  Caroline opened the letter and read. When she’d finished reading, all sat in stunned silence.

  Henry rocked slightly in his chair. Leonard tapped his index finger on the gingham-covered tabletop.

  “They have a large home on the James River.” A former plantation that they indicated was fairly intact because they’d been occupied by the Union army.

  Virginia squared her shoulders. “Of course I’m too old to go. But are they going to put Deanna and the boys to work in the fields? I’ve read in Ladies Home Newsletter that some Southern women are doing that.”

  “Oh my!” Deanna’s cheeks flushed pink. “Will we have to pick cotton?”

  More protests went up. “I don’t believe so.” But she didn’t know these people at all.

  “But I’m almost out of school.” Leonard scowled. “If they want to do anything for me they can send me to medical training.”

  The kitchen door squeaked.

  “I don’t want to go.” Henry slapped his hand down on the table, so much like Pa used to do that Caroline could only stare at the boy. Truth be told, her youngest brother was her favorite. She didn’t want him away either.

  Barden wheeled Ma’s coffee-service cart into the room. “What’s a family gathering without some treats?”

  “Yeah!” Henry clapped his hands.

  “Why don’t we ask Barden his opinion?” Virginia fluttered her eyelashes as she peered up at him.

  “Got somethin’ in your eye?” Leonard reached across to poke at Virginia, and she swatted him away.

  Mr. Granville cleared his throat. “Ask my opinion about what?”

  As he expertly poured Caroline her evening tea, she looked up at him. This was a family matter. But what if he was to become her husband? “It seems that my maternal grandparents have come forward to request my brothers and sisters …”

  Virginia arched an eyebrow. “Sister, as in Deanna. I’m eighteen and have no need of grandparents to watch over me.”

  As he set the teacup down into its saucer, Barden leaned in close. “And what say you of this agenda?”

  “She’s agin it!” Henry affected a deep drawl and made a comical face. “Agin it, I say!”

  The others laughed.

  “I dare say, if you purport that she’s against this dastardly plot, then why would you accept it?”

  “I don’t.” Alvin rolled his eyes. “I’m enlisting in the army first chance I get.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Virginia pointed at Caroline. “She’s promised to send me to Normal School in Emporia to be a teacher.”

  “I did.” Caroline muttered the words softly, although how she’d ever secure the funds she didn’t know.

  Barden pointed at the other three siblings in succession. “And how far away are said Grandmama and Grandpapa?”

  “Over a thousand miles.” Henry sank his head onto his hands. “I don’t wanna go anyhow.”

  “Me, neither.” Deanna wrinkled her nose. “I’m almost grown.”

  Barden set a tray of golden cookies on the table. “Mrs. Freeman’s sugar cookies.”

  As he continued to pour tea, Caroline watched in amazement as her brothers and sisters dug into the cookies. Had Frank been there, he’d have insisted each person take a turn and discuss the pros and cons of the decision to be made. Yet here, in under five minutes, Barden had convinced her brothers and sisters to see things her way. Caroline blinked back tears.

  Having another husband might not be so bad after all.

  Chapter 4

  Early June, 1866

  Who’d have thought the image of a man washing dishes could be so attractive? Caroline stood slicing potatoes at the work counter behind Barden, watching him. With a white linen towel casually draped over one shoulder, he stood erect, humming as he scoured dishes at the dry sink. Then he transferred those he’d washed to another tub and poured rinse water over them. His blue cotton shirt was tucked neatly into his work trousers, his leather belt shone from a recent polishing. Yesterday he’d brought in tightly woven cotton and linen toweling material purchased from Stevens Mercantile. Mr. Woodson had cut the rectangles and then Mae had sewn them up on the treadle machine she had at her house. They did look nice. But why was Barden trying to change everything?

  Mr. Woodson whistled off-key as he carried a load of wood to the pile beside the stove. “Your older sister must be mighty bored to be fraternizin’ with us workers again.”

  “Why is Lorraine here anyway?” Caroline always marveled at the older man’s way of getting straight to the point.

  Barden turned to face the workman. “We’re grateful for the relief she offers us—Mrs. Kane in particular.”

  Mr. Woodson gaped, and Caroline could only blink. But, it was true that Caroline had been allowed to sleep in that day because of her older sister’s presence.

  Noisy footsteps announced Lorraine’s return to the kitchen. “There’s a dozen soldiers out there, Caroline!”

  “Soldiers?”

  Virginia rushed in, her cheeks flushed, her ebony hair trailing ringlets around her ivory neck. She fanned herself with her hand, eyes wide. “A passel of handsome army men are out there!”

  “For the inn or the restaurant?” They had a business to run.

  “They’re on the move to Fort Mackinac.” Lorraine squirreled a handkerchief from her apron pocket and dabbed at her forehead.

  Caroline had never heard of this place. “Where is it they’re going?”

  Virginia batted at the air as if waving something away. “It’s far away from here.”

  Raising his index finger, Barden interjected, “I believe I read about that fort in one of my Beadle’s. We Brits took Mackinac back from the Americans in the War of 1812.”

  Mr. Woodson scowled at him. “Better watch yerself, young fella, my Pa served in that war.”

  Again, Virginia waved their comments away. “But there are a dozen soldiers out there, and all but the commander is single!”

  Barden crossed his arms over his chest. “We just sent out your application for the Emporia Normal School. And letters asking for a teaching post that doesn’t require additional training. Certainly, you don’t entertain the notion that you’ll be running off to a fort somewhere?”

  Caroline gaped at the man. He’d taken the very words from her mouth, albeit spoken with a heavy British accent.

  “Well they are here, and I’ve no position, do I?” Virginia scowled at them, her face settling back into its usual expression. But oh, what a delight to have seen her beautiful smile again even if for that moment.

  Lorraine went to the stove and grabbed the coffee pot. “I’ll be needing more coffee right away to keep up with them, if they’re anything like our ranch hands.”

  “As I’ve offered before, madam, I’m completely at your disposal, if you ever need an extra pair of hands at the ranch.”

  Lorraine, Virginia, Mr. Woodson, and Caroline all stared at Barden as the room fell silent, save for the sound of the stove and its contents bubbling.

  Barden dried his hands and removed the heavy canvas apron. “Let me handle this.”

  First he’d offered to run off to her sister’s. Now he acted like he was the man of this place. She should have objected. Caroline should have insisted it was her duty as owner to ascertain the needs of the military passing through. Instead, she sank onto the stool by the counter and stared at the pitiful pile of potatoes. If a dozen soldiers supped with them tonight, she’d need her efforts multiplied like the fishes and the loaves. Mercifully, funds from the auditions’ rental had replenished their coffers. After school the previous day, Henry and Leonard had toted home flour, sugar, co
ffee, bacon, and more from the mercantile.

  Mae Reed entered through the back door, carrying with her the faint odor of liniment and spearmint. Her usual slow shuffle had improved to a steadier gait, with her back straighter, too. “Good morning! How’re you all doing this fine morning? You sound well.”

  “Slept better than I have in a while, thanks to Barden’s suggestion.”

  Caroline stiffened. Barden’s list of suggestions for the inn and restaurant now topped fifty items. “And what was that?”

  “He had me substitute chamomile tea for my evening coffee. That seemed to make a difference. Didn’t wake up at all last night.”

  “Well, good …” What else could she say? It was wonderful news. If only his ever-lengthening list of ideas were good. Some were downright ridiculous. Number 20 was Make the evening meal one of charm and grace; 21—bring in more candles to supplement the lamps; 22—set out tablecloths. Caroline had snorted over that idea. And who did he expect to launder all those table coverings?

  Barden re-entered the kitchen, a soldier in a federal blue uniform trailing him. What in the world? Caroline pushed aside her potatoes and smoothed her apron, all the while fixing a glare on Barden that she hoped would convey her dissatisfaction with his behavior. Guests did not belong in the kitchen.

  From the crimson blossoming on his cheeks, Barden evidently sensed her ire. The officer appeared nonplussed however. He held his hat tucked under his arm as he stepped forward and nodded curtly. “Captain John Mitchell, Company B, 43rd Regiment of Infantry, honored to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”

  His gaze settled on Mae, who looked up at him in expectation. “How many men do you have, Captain?”

  “Fifty-seven total.”

  Caroline felt her eyes widen.

  “Only twelve are being allowed to stay in town, though.”

  Although they could use the extra income, she, her family, and the staff were plum worn out from the influx of men for the audition. She exhaled a sigh of relief.

  Barden lifted his chin and caught Caroline’s eye. “The captain asked about baths for his men, and I believe we have a way to accommodate them.”

  “Those here will have fresh water, soap, and clean towels in their rooms.”

  The captain cleared his throat. “Mr. Granville thought all of my men might bathe.”

  The kitchen seemed to be getting as hot as her temper. “We have only one tub here at the inn.”

  Barden grinned. “Well, the saloon could be used, if Sheriff Ingram would allow us access.”

  Not a bad idea, if it wasn’t one of so many brilliant notions the Englishman had. The tavern had at least two man-sized steel tubs in the back room and a stove as large as the inn’s.

  “I think you’d best ask our mayor, Abigail Melton, first.”

  Barden’s smile wobbled. “I purchased the extra wood, already.”

  “Oh?” Another action he’d not discussed with her. He was beginning to remind her more of Frank and of the things he’d done that had irked her. Things she’d not thought of in the past two years.

  “I was certain you’d not mind. It was, after all, needed and an act of Christian charity.”

  She wasn’t running a charity but a business, but they’d have to have a discussion later.

  Lorraine not so subtly eyed the captain. “The barber could help—he has a good-sized tub.”

  “Wonderful notion.” The commander stroked his moustache, which looked in need of grooming.

  Who’d heard of army men wanting a soak and scrub? “Don’t your soldiers simply bathe in the river, Captain Mitchell?”

  “Not all are able, ma’am. You see, while I have an infantry unit, most of my men are wounded, some severely.”

  “Oh.” Caroline sank back onto the stool. “Injured, yet they are traveling to another fort?”

  The man’s ruddy complexion became redder still. “Yes, you see many wish to serve out their commission. The Michigan fort is a light duty fort where my men can recover from the war.”

  Embarrassed at having questioned the officer, Caroline’s lips parted to apologize, but she couldn’t manage what to say. She exchanged a glance with Barden. No wonder he’d immediately sought to do something to help the men. One thing she’d learned about him, right away, was his compassion for others. It was touching.

  Barden winked at her and then waved toward her, Mae, and Mr. Woodson. “Captain Mitchell, I know I speak for all when I say we are quite happy to meet the needs of your men. Furthermore, tomorrow night you and your officers staying at the inn will be our first guests to experience our new evening dining menu. Suffice it to say, it shall be more suitable for the officers than what we normally offer. And we hope soon to provide this service to all our guests.”

  Caroline fixed a smile on her face. Had the cat gotten her tongue, wound it up like a ball of yarn, and then unrolled it to the next county over? Just when she’d been admiring his compassionate nature, Barden Granville dumps this surprise on her? This will have to be nipped in the bud!

  Barden opened the back door of the restaurant for Mae then turned and called over his shoulder, “We’ll be right back, Luke.” As he escorted the widow to her home, he hummed an American Stephen Foster song one of the soldiers had earlier played on his banjo.

  “That was one of my husband’s favorite tunes, bless his soul.” She carefully took the three wide steps up to her porch.

  The two-story brick home featured a wraparound porch. Large mullioned windows fronted the house on either side, with a wide-paneled center door. Maybe Barden had gotten ahead of himself in suggesting they improve the evening meals both in substance and appearance. In the future, when he settled in his new church, would he be forced to ask matrons to share their household goods if there was a parish-wide event?

  “Are you sure you feel comfortable with this, Mrs. Reed?”

  “Of course, dear. My china and silver are sitting unused.” She patted the side of her hair, twisted up and held in place with a large tortoise comb. “Using fine things makes a meal more special, don’t you think?”

  “I do.” He rubbed his chin. “I thought my conversation went rather well with Mrs. Kane earlier, don’t you?” He’d laid out all the reasons why the Tumble Inn might wish to spruce up not only its appearance but try to attract a more refined crowd.

  Silence, other than the sound of a key turning in the lock, met his ears, much like Mrs. Kane’s had earlier. Mrs. Reed tucked the large key back into her apron pocket and pushed open the door. Inside, the cozy parlor, on the left, looked like the place a cowboy would love to come home to. A sturdy velvet-covered chaise rested before a wall of books ensconced in a splendid walnut case. An overstuffed arm chair was matched by a stool, upon which a man might rest his feet after a long day rounding up cattle. A tea table held a silver tea service. He could picture his wife bringing in afternoon tea for him after a hard day on the trail. Why did that image suddenly include a lovely young woman whose caramel-colored hair begged him to bury his face in it every time she drew too near? He could picture a roaring fire glowing in the fireplace on a chill autumn night. Peyton Shiloh, the hero of one of his favorite dime novels, would surely applaud this parlor as perfect. It wouldn’t be, though, without the American woman who’d begun to give him more reason to love America than any of his books had.

  “Are you all right, Barden?” Mae crossed the hallway to another front-facing room. Barden followed her.

  An oval cherrywood table was flanked at each end by shell-backed armchairs. Two matching armless chairs faced another pair across the table. Such furniture would only be found in a wealthy rancher’s home. “What did you say your husband did?”

  “He was a surgeon.” She wiped something from her eyes and turned her back to him as she faced a glass-fronted hutch filled with plates, bowls, and saucers.

  She began to remove some of the plates, but the deformity in her hands caused her to struggle.

  “Let me help.”

  Soon
they had three sets of complete china place settings. “I had my mother’s china, mine, and my grandmother’s. I was the only daughter. When we came to Kansas, we had this all packed and shipped. Nary a piece was broken.”

  Although not nearly as fine as those at the Cheatham Hall estate, the three patterns were of high quality. “They’re lovely. Are you certain you wish to engage in this dining experiment with me at the inn?”

  “I would flat out love to see these dishes get some use. Life is short, Barden. No use storing up our treasures here on earth. Like the Good Book says.”

  “Indeed.” What earthly goods he had brought with him to America had been taken from him. But God had provided in most unusual ways.

  “And I should tell you Caroline is a creature of habit. Not much for change. But she needs to do so if that inn is going to make it.”

  He had only a short time he could help. And Caroline hadn’t yet mentioned when he’d be paid for his duties. “We’ll get her off to a good start.”

  The petite woman’s eyebrows wove together. “What do you mean to a good start?”

  Perhaps it was wisest not to disclose when he must return to tend his flock. And he still wished to fulfill his goal. “Well, you see I really wished to experience the cowboy life before I settle down.”

  “Ah …” Her lower lip drooped. “So you would hop on a chance to work at a ranch if you had the opportunity?”

  “I’m afraid so. As you said, life is short. This has been a lifelong dream of mine.” He offered her what he hoped was a charming smile.

  “Well I’m sure Mrs. Martinchek would be happy to have you provide relief help if you must fulfill your cowboy yearnings before …”

  “Hello!” Caroline’s older sister entered the house. “I could have sworn I heard my name just now.”

  “You did, dear. It seems Barden wishes to try cowboy life before settling down.”

  “Yes, before I assume my vocation, I wish to learn more about ranching.”

  Both women eyed him.

  A smirk twitched at Mrs. Martinchek’s lips. “Vocation? I’ve never heard it put that way.”