by Debra Samms
Maeve couldn't help but smile. "Well, now," she began. "I want a man who won't argue with me. A man who will listen to my advice. Do things my way."
"Do things your way?" Red just laughed. "You can't be serious."
"Couldn't be more serious if you held a gun to my head."
Red frowned. "Since when does any man do things a woman's way, Maeve? Especially the men in this place?"
She sighed. "You heard me speak about how my father allowed me to manage our small farm. I couldn't be a fainting little flower when the cow was calving or a pig needed slaughtering.
"And it was the same on that ship voyage to get here. I couldn’t very well be crying over the filthy conditions, or hesitate to beat a man across the head and throw him overboard when he deserved it."
Maeve looked up to meet Red's sharp hazel eyes. "Back on the farm, my family survived because I wouldn't have it any other way. On that ship, all five of us women made it here alive and well because I wasn't about to have that any other way, either."
Red nodded. "You're a strong woman, Maeve. No doubt about that." He glanced over his shoulder, and Maeve looked out in the same direction. The little cabin sat up just high enough on the ridge so that they could see over the houses along the road and look down on the hillside, even catching a glimpse of the river through the very tall trees.
"So, you've been here for a month now," said Red. "Still think Sawyerville is a place where you'd want to live?"
She smiled. "Truth is, I figured right from the start I'd fit in just fine at a logging camp. The men work long days. I think they'd be grateful for a woman who can take care of things so they don't have to worry about so much.
"I want a man who will do what needs to be done when I tell him. He'd learn quick enough that I'm good for that. We'd get along just fine."
"You really think a man wants you to run his life."
"I know it for a fact. I'd like to think I'm exactly what some man out here needs."
"Like me? You think I need you? Or any woman?"
"Oh, there's a difference between want and need. You think you don't want me, but there's no question about it – you need me. All of these men need somebody like me."
Red just stared at her, as though trying to figure it out. Then he busted out laughing. "Listen, Shotgun," he said, still laughing, "I'll tell you what I need and what I don't need. And the last thing any man needs is some woman telling him what to do."
She just shrugged. "Oh, you all know enough when it comes to logging. You don't need wives for that. But when it comes to living a decent life, you're no better than skunks."
"That so."
Maeve stood up. "Yeah. That's so."
"In that case, you best get on back to the Ladies' House. And next time you're down by the camp, don't get too close to the mules."
She frowned. "Why not?"
"Because if you get too close, they'll see how tall and skinny and pale you are and might just spook all the way back to Portland."
She just stared at him in cold silence. "What's gotten into you?"
"And if I ever want you to bring me my dinner pail again – I'll let you know." He pushed himself off of the porch rail and walked out in front of the cabin.
Maeve raised her chin and stared coldly at him. "Mr. Lyon, I don't mind dirt. Or cold. Or wet. Or stink. But there is one thing I do mind."
"Oh? What's that?"
"Bad manners. In man or beast."
"Hah! This is a logging camp. You sure came to the wrong place, then, old girl."
"Maybe I did at that." She walked off of the porch and started to leave, and then turned back to look at him.
"But maybe you can tell me what being rude and crude has done for you so far. Looks to me like it's gotten you living alone out in this place with nothing for company at night except bedbugs and fleas. I can tell you that that's all you're going to have with you in this cabin. But if that's the sort of thing you like, then far be it from me to try to change it."
Maeve made her way through the row of houses and back to the road, and did not look back. But just before she got out of Red's sight, she heard his voice once again.
"Some bedbugs ain't so bad," he called, "if they're tall enough and fearless enough."
She couldn't help grinning, though she'd never let him see it. That was probably one of the nicer things he'd ever said to any woman. For now, she'd take it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Over a fortnight later, on a fine warm evening in the middle of July, Maeve had just finished getting a turn in the bathtub and was now up in her room putting on a fresh new cotton dress. "I don't think dark blue is my color," she complained, as Ruby helped her button it up.
"What do you mean? It makes those grey eyes look like the prettiest blue," Ruby said. "And it brings out a little color in that pale hair. It's perfect."
"Well, you're sweet to say so. But thank you."
They could hear a knock downstairs at the front door. "What are you going to do this evening, Maeve?" asked Ruby.
"Thought I'd just spend a quiet evening. Delilah told me she'd teach me some more about embroidery."
"Embroidery?" Ruby couldn't help but laugh. "Guess I didn't figure you for such things."
"Well, that's just it. Never had the time to learn before. Wouldn't hurt me any to learn."
"I can see that. Maybe I'll join you."
"Good."
Then there was a knock at Maeve's own door. "It's open," she said, and Delilah Michaels came in. She was a petite and delicate-looking blonde, certainly the prettiest of all the prospective brides.
"Looks like there won't be any embroidery done tonight, Maeve," she said, smiling. "There's a gentleman here to call on you."
***
Just as the sun dropped below the horizon, Maeve and Red walked down the high road from the Ladies' House and down to the main road. They followed it to the east, back to the spot with the boulders where they'd sat down together and talked on the very first day Maeve had arrived.
"No moon tonight," she remarked.
"The better to see the stars," he answered.
Maeve sat back, and looked at him. "Well, now. Such pretty words. Like poetry."
"Anything wrong with that?"
"Why would there be? I like poetry just fine, what little I've read of it."
"I do, too. Some of the men think that's foolish."
"Why do you pay any mind to what they think?"
"I don't. I think my favorite line of poetry that I know of is 'beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.'"
Maeve though for a moment. "What does that mean?"
"A teacher told me it means when something's too pretty, it's actually not good for much. You can't touch it. You can look at it, but that's about all."
"I see." The last of the twilight faded into night. The sky was clear, and it seemed that every star was bright as a diamond and near enough to touch.
Red got up, and so did Maeve, thinking it was time to go back to the town. "No, Maeve. Sit down."
She did as he asked. Then, before she could blink, he was down on one knee in front of her. "Marry me."
"Ah – marry you?"
"You heard me."
She frowned a little, and sighed. "That's not funny, Red Lyon."
He stayed right where he was. "What are you talking about? I couldn't be more serious if you held a gun to my head."
Maeve paused, trying to think. "Look at me," she finally said. "I got crooked teeth. Crooked smile. Crooked feet. Crooked ears. Almost everything's crooked about me – except my heart. Nothing crooked about the way I deal with people."
"I know that. Why do you think I'd marry you?"
She glanced down. "Don't know. You're a fine-looking man, Red Lyon. I don't mind telling you that. Why wouldn't you go for one of the pretty ones? There's plenty of them around here. And most of them would sell their own mothers down the river to get married to a decent man like you."
He grinned. "They pr
obably would. But I need a woman who won't quit when it gets tough. I need a real partner, not just a pretty doll to dress up my parlor."
"Well, you know you won't get anything pretty if you get me. But, I just don't know if it's the best idea."
Red shrugged. "I suppose that if you want, it could just be a – a business arrangement."
"What?"
"You know. I provide for you, and you cook and clean for me. But that's all."
Maeve stood up. "I traveled thousands of miles to get here, in some of the worst conditions you can imagine. If I'd wanted to stay a spinster, I could have stayed out in Manchester."
"Maeve – "
"I'm not ashamed to say that I do want children, even if they're as ugly as me. And I don't want a husband constantly looking around for other women because he isn't happy at home. It's the real thing for me, Red Lyon, or nothing at all."
"Maeve, sit down." He reached up and took her hand. "All right, then. Will you marry me? I promise you, it'll be a real marriage."
Maeve actually caught her breath, realizing he was entirely serious. She had the presence of mind to look out at the beautiful sight of the stars glittering over the river down below them, knowing she would always remember – and cherish – this sweetest of all moments in her life.
"Yes, Red. I'll marry you."
"When?"
She considered. "I think the girls will want to give us a wedding. A fortnight?"
"A fortnight it is." Then, to Maeve's quiet delight, he gave her a gentle kiss, and then the two of them just sat in silence and looked out on the starry landscape for a time.
CHAPTER FIVE
Two weeks later, on a gray and cloudy Sunday in early August, Maeve stood in the parlor of the Sawyerville Ladies' House surrounded by a dozen other women from the house. The women stood close around Maeve, and she smiled to herself at realizing that they were all far more excited than she was.
"Maeve, you really do look pretty," said one voice.
"That dark blue dress really favors your eyes," said another.
"Who would have thought you would be the first among us to get married!"
The room fell silent. The girls all looked at each other, suddenly embarrassed. "Delilah! You hush. Why shouldn't Maeve get married?" hissed Ruby. "She's got as much chance as any of us."
"Oh, that's all right, Delilah," said Maeve, grinning a little. "I wouldn't have believed it, either. And all brides are pretty on their wedding day, no matter who they are."
The front door opened and Hattie and Eulalie came running in. "Here! We found these for you. We think they're perfect!" And they handed Maeve a little bouquet of lacy white Queen Anne's Lace, tied together with a sky blue ribbon.
"Why, thank you, girls," she said, taking the delicate flowers. "I guess we should be going now. We'll be wanting to see if the groom actually makes an appearance."
She walked out onto the expansive front porch of the Ladies' House, but then stopped short. Out in the street was gathered virtually every female in the town, from the other brides and the wives of the business owners to the wives of the cooks in the encampment below.
In the front, smiling brightly, Maeve recognized Molly Strong, the woman who'd been the one to arrange for brides to come here in the first place. She was standing with her tall and handsome husband, William Strong, the sheriff of Sawyerville.
"Congratulations, Miss Maeve!" said Molly, and then ran up and kissed her on the cheek. "We're all so happy for you and for Mr. Lyon. And we're here to walk with you to your wedding!"
Maeve had never felt so pleased in her life. "Why, thank you, Mrs. Strong," she said, realizing she was beginning to feel a little nervous. "Let's go get it done."
With that, the merry group all followed behind Maeve, with a few of the girls skipping ahead to throw a few flowers into the road in front of her. Soon they reached a pretty grove of cedar trees not far from the rocks where Red had proposed.
Within the grove stood Red Lyon, along with a few other men from the encampment. Then someone came up to stand along Maeve.
"May I, Miss Harrison?"
She turned to see Sheriff Strong beside her, offering her his arm. Smiling, she took it gratefully, and then walked down the pathway into the cedar grove where her groom waited for her beside the preacher.
It was as pretty as any church Maeve had ever seen, with soft cloudy light filtering down through the tall trees and the birds singing off in the distance. The ceremony was a brief one, which she scarcely remembered; and then it was done, and she walked out of the grove as Mrs. Red Lyon.
***
The large and happy wedding party made its way from the little cedar grove back into town, until the whole crowd gathered in front of the Frost Mercantile. There, the three-man band on drum, wood flute, and violin provided some lively music for dancing.
Maeve was pleased to dance another waltz with Red Lyon, this time as his wife. Then the bride and groom took their places on the bench that had been placed on the wooden walkway especially for them while the crowd gathered around, watching the newlyweds and watching the dancing in the street.
Inside the Mercantile there was a wedding cake on a table by itself – a pound cake made in several layers of different size and drizzled with honey and walnuts. She knew that the women of the Ladies' House had spent all of yesterday and most of this morning baking and decorating it. Maeve and Red accepted plates of cake and sat watching the dancers, all the while receiving the congratulations of the crowd.
Maeve noticed that many of the men were also celebrating with flasks of whisky as well as with slabs of cake, and that they were getting ever louder and more raucous.
But she could see that Sheriff Strong and a few of the other armed townsmen were keeping a close eye on things. They were all actually quite well behaved for a gathering in Sawyerville – at least, so far.
CHAPTER SIX
The music stopped at the end of the song, and a number of the men and women hurried over to gather around the newlyweds sitting on the bench in front of the Mercantile. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" the people cried, rapping on their plates with their cake forks.
Red gave them a wry grin, and then leaned over towards Maeve. But almost involuntarily she pulled back and turned her face away from him.
"Maeve?"
She glanced back to see him frowning at her. "You won't kiss your husband?" he said.
Maeve turned away again. "Not in front of everyone. Not like this. Some of them are just laughing."
"I don't care what they think. Neither should you. Now, come here and kiss me."
But she only set down her plate and stood up. "Time to go now. I'd like to see my new home."
Red stood up, too, but his good humor was gone. "You said you wanted a real marriage, Maeve," he said, leaning towards her and speaking in a low tone as the crowd continued to chant. "Did you play some kind of trick when you said that?"
Maeve looked him in the eye. "No. No trick. I meant what I said. I just don't want to kiss in front of all these fool men. That's all."
She stepped down and started to leave, but was stopped by several of the women in the crowd. "Oh, no! You must throw the bouquet. You must throw it!"
"Throw my bouquet?"
"Yes! Whichever one of us catches it will be the next to marry!"
"I suppose I have heard that somewhere," Maeve said under her breath. Right now, she was willing to do almost anything if it would get the excited crowd to let her leave.
She stood at the edge of the walkway, faced the store, and tossed the little white bouquet of Queen Anne's Lace over her shoulder. There was much squealing and laughing, and when Maeve turned around she saw that pretty blonde Delilah Michaels had caught it.
"Good luck to you, Delilah," Maeve called. "Though I don't think you'll need it."
Then Maeve looked out at the rest of the crowd and raised her hands up a little for quiet. "Thank you for coming to my wedding – our wedding," she said. "But I think I'd like to
go home now. You all continue the festivities as long as you like."
With that she glanced at Red, and then turned and started to leave. The crowd all laughed and cheered and jeered, and it was obvious that some were happy for the newlyweds while others felt disappointed that the party was ending so soon.
But Maeve could not worry about what the wedding guests might want. Red followed closely after her as they walked down the street with most of the rowdy guests still following them.
"Listen to me, Maeve," Red said to her, catching hold of her arm. "I hope I haven't been tricked here. Maybe you really are as strong-minded as they all say."
She stopped and faced him. "No. You haven't been tricked. I said what I meant, and I meant what I said. I don't want to be kissing in front of a crowd like that. It's not a show."
With that, Maeve continued on up to the high road where the houses were. Her husband eventually came with her. To her relief, the crowd did not try to follow them up the switchback. Instead, they simply gave up and went back to the party, where there was still wedding cake and dancing and no small amount of alcohol . . . even if it was a Sunday.
***
As the crowd in the street went on enjoying the party, two men walked up out of the hillside encampment to stand at the edge and watch as the people continued to dance and drink and sample large pieces of cake.
One of the men shook his head. "I never really thought he'd marry that woman. If she even is a woman at all."
"What are you talking about, Hank?"
"For Pete's sake, Artie, you saw her. She's been tagging along after him for weeks now, and some way she convinced him to marry her."
"No, Hank, I ain't seen her at all. I only know Red. I've been off at the far western cut for the last few weeks." Artie looked at the street party again. "So – where is she now? Come to think of it, if this is a weddin', where's Red?"
Hank sighed. "They already had the weddin'. This is the party afterwards."
