Serendipity

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “For as long as it lasts, that’s where it belongs. Yoked together, we are. Aye, and all that’s mine is yours.”

  The porter came by. “Accompanying a patient, Miss Rose?”

  “She’s Mrs. Valmer now.” Todd acted proud as a stallion with a whole bevy of mares.

  Magpie plunged into a conversation that sounded like a tightly wound music box. She introduced the porter to them, told him she’d be living on a farm in Texas, and discussed a rash the man had. A rash! Maggie produced a small jar of unguent from a nearby bag. “Just you take this, then.”

  “Thankee, Miss Ro – um, Valmer?”

  “That’d be Mrs. Valmer,” Todd said, reaching into his pocket. “As there wasn’t a ticket office in Carver’s Holler, I need to – ”

  Waving his hand dismissively, the young man scoffed. “The horses and such are all reckoned for, and I’ll use the money I’d have paid for the medicine for the lady’s ticket.”

  “That’s not necessary – ”

  “It’s so nice of you to give us that as a wedding gift,” Maggie interrupted. “It’s like you’re sending me straight to my husband’s arms, but we want to pay for one more seat.”

  Why did she have to point out this horrid barrel takes up two seats?

  Chuckling, the porter shook his head. “Every last man in four counties is going to hail me as a hero for getting rid of Jethro Bugbee’s good-luck gambling chair.”

  “Their wives will thank you more.” Maggie flashed him a grin.

  Wearing a dubious look, Todd shook hands with the porter and sat down. He shot Maggie a sizzling glare. “Valmers do not accept charity.”

  “Neither do folks in these parts. Our tickets, transporting my treasures and your Belgians – it pert near evens the books on a right hefty debt. Rest easy, Husband. You don’t owe anyone a cent or a favor.”

  A few hours later, the porter approached again. “Mr. Valmer, your wife’s good at calming and healing folks. We sure do need her – ”

  Hopping up before Todd heard the full request, Maggie ordered, “Show me the way.”

  “Do you need me?” Todd asked without first considering how that would leave Helga alone.

  Maggie grazed his sleeve. “Thankee for the offer. Should I need help, I’ll send for you.”

  When at last she returned, Todd voiced everyone’s curiosity. “What happened?”

  “Nothing much, really.” Magpie shrugged. “When I treat someone, I won’t be speaking with you about it.”

  Helga’s mouth hung wide open. “A wife keeps nothing from her husband!”

  “Ma’am, you would as lief leash a bird or try to teach a pig to sing as to get me to betray a patient’s confidence.”

  Todd leaned forward and murmured, “The day you took ill, she showed you this respect and dignity. It is wrong to deny someone privacy.”

  Helga stared at Maggie. “Things should still be done quietly and discretion – ”

  “Exactly!” Todd’s wife cut in. “Discretion. I knew you’d understand.”

  Crooking her good brow, Helga gave Magpie her most chilling look. “It’s impolite to interrupt someone. Impulsive actions and blunt words can be a woman’s downfall. You must curb your impetuous nature.” There. She’d said it just as tastefully as Arletta would.

  “Ma’am, I’m not one to dither. Sitting on my hands when something needs doing goes against my grain, and I’m up-front with others, just as I appreciate their candor. My nature is set. It isn’t going to change. Uncle Bo’s a wise man, and he said, ‘Love means we gotta see each other through God’s eyes, not with a mind of molding them to our own wants.’ I reckon Uncle Bo wouldn’t have put my hand in Todd’s if he weren’t dead-level certain Todd would strive to see me as I am instead of with a goal of transforming me into something I’m not.”

  “Spirit is important in a woman.” Todd and she exchanged besotted glances.

  In disgust, Helga gave up. She slumped into the whiskey barrel chair with the absolute knowledge that even if she’d guzzled every last drop it once held, it wouldn’t begin to numb the pain of dealing with Todd’s wayward bride.

  Todd woke to the scent of roses. Maggie snuggled against his side, and he squeezed her shoulder. Caressing the darling wisps of hair that curled at her nape, he couldn’t decide whether he was the luckiest man alive to be married to her, or the most wretched for having spent their wedding trip sitting on a hard bench, in a drafty train, with his mother sitting across from them. Lifting her head from his chest, Maggie gave him a sleepy, puzzled look. Cheeks sleep-flushed and lips slightly puckered, she tempted him to abandon propriety and kiss her. Okay, so I’m blessed and wretched all at the same time.

  Suddenly, her eyes grew huge. Snapping into perfect posture, she tried to scoot away. “You . . . I . . . umm. G’morning. Did you sleep at all? What time is it, anyway?”

  She didn’t get far. His hand kept hold of her shoulder, anchoring her to his side. “I slept some, and waking up to you made this a very good morning.” Tearing his gaze from her lips, he cast a quick glance to the side and spied Ma’s valise. “At the first stop after breakfast, I will send a telegram ahead. Between your crates and Ma, we need help to get home tonight.”

  Whispering softly, they got to know one another a little better and let Ma sleep . . . until Maggie let out a little squeal. “For true? I’ll finally have women for neighbors?”

  He’d taken her away from all she knew and loved – but this was something she wanted and he could provide. Todd smiled. “You will have lots of woman friends.”

  In her excitement she’d awakened Ma. Ma groused about being awakened, so Maggie quickly began unloading a basket she had stowed beneath the seat. “I packed us a picnic breakfast: hard-boiled eggs and prune bread.”

  Prune bread. He hated prune bread.

  Ma snickered. “I’m sure Todd will be certain to do it justice. Won’t you, Son?”

  He plastered on a smile and choked down a piece.

  “Since you like my prune bread so much, eat my slice whilst I peel Ma’s egg.”

  “I could not.”

  “Sure you can,” Ma and Maggie said in unison.

  Just then two porters carrying linen-covered trays entered the car and stopped by them. “Mrs. Valmer, Mrs. Ludquist sends her respects and asks if you might consider sending her a bottle of your fine lotion.”

  Margaret pulled out a bottle of lotion and added a cake of soap. “Please thank her for us.”

  The porters whipped the linen off the trays. While Todd moaned in pleasure, laughter tinkled out of Maggie. “Dear Gussy, what a fancy spread!”

  After setting the tray in front of Maggie, the porter accepted the soap and lotion. He managed to look blasé as he said, “I was directed to tell you the meal is compliments of Ludquist, Littlefield, and Mouse.”

  Instantly, Todd understood. Someone needed calming yesterday. A rich woman named Mrs. Ludquist got spooked by a little field mouse. And Maggie, who talked a blue streak and loved to tell stories, stayed entirely silent about it. Truly, he’d married a woman of discretion and compassion.

  Except for the gleam in her eyes, she schooled all emotion from her expression and concentrated on the tray. “Ma, holler out what appeals to you.”

  Ma gritted, “You’ve created a scene, and everyone is watching. I won’t be a part of it.”

  “Since you won’t accept anything from the trays, eat this.” Todd pushed the unwanted slice of thick, sticky prune bread into Ma’s hand. It wouldn’t be right to thank the Lord that he didn’t have to choke down prune bread. But Ma needed to eat something, and she’d turned down Maggie’s previous offers. Todd turned his focus on his bride. “I have crops in the field, God in my heart, and you in my arms. Already I awoke feeling blessed . . . and now we have this fine meal, too. Why don’t you pray this time?”

  Later, when Maggie slipped off to personally thank Mrs. Ludquist, Todd boasted, “I got quite a bride. My Margaret has a kind heart and willing hands.�
�

  Impossibly weary, Ma sighed. “So do many maids and servants. Still, it does not mean they are suited to marrying the man of the house.”

  Todd snorted. “You sound like Old Frau Schwartz. ‘No girl is good enough for my son.’ Those old men back in Arkansas are saying I am not good enough for Margaret.”

  “But I . . . I am right. In the days ahead, you’ll come to see she doesn’t know how to be the wife you need. She lived with carvers, not farmers.”

  “My Margaret gardened, put up food, and cooked for a dozen men. She is more than capable. If there are small details she misses, you’ll be there to instruct her.”

  Margaret returned with a wide smile. “I just swapped cookie recipes. Would you care to know what kind?”

  “What kind?”

  “Prune?” Ma guessed in a glum tone.

  Eyes sparkling, Maggie lilted, “Wishes Come True. I’m going to make Wishes Come True.”

  Todd couldn’t take his eyes off of his beautiful bride. “Yes, you will.”

  Gas lamps glowed a late-night welcome to Gooding. Ma let out a moan as Todd carried her off the train.

  Dropping their satchels on a bench, Maggie cooed, “We made it, Ma. We’re here.” Concern puckered her brow as she tucked quilts around Ma. “We’ve got to get her home and to bed.”

  Todd grunted agreement.

  Maggie pulled her shawl close against the midnight chill. “I’ll ask the porter to bring the wheelchair straight away, and I’ll fetch the horses.”

  Sure enough, Ma’s chair arrived. Getting her comfortable was impossible; Maggie always did that. Truth be told, he didn’t think there was anything his wife couldn’t do.

  I have everything I could ever wish for. Todd watched Maggie step down onto the ramp with huge, shaggy Belgians following her like obedient pups. He’d gotten himself quite a bride, all right. The sight pleased him immensely – until Eve moved forward and he spotted the hames about her neck. For a breath, he wanted to give his bride credit for dressing the beasts with the heavy pieces so they’d be ready to hitch to a wagon, but Margaret halted the horses a step before they’d be on the ground and scampered back up into the car between them. That could mean only one thing: His bride sneaked some kind of conveyance along!

  The gas lamps illuminated the magnitude of her deception. A whole wagon. She’d brought a whole blessed wagon full of more of her clutter! He bet an unreeled fishing line couldn’t be shoved between the stuff Margaret crammed in. Not Margaret. Not Maggie. Magpie – the hoarder of junk. Todd’s throat ached with the restraint it took to keep from bellowing her name.

  “Good evening, Mr. Valmer.” Linette Richardson stepped closer. “Daddy’s fixing to back our buckboard up here for you to use. Why don’t I stay with this lady until someone comes for her?”

  His telegram had said Ma was ill. As usual, Linette had her heart in the right place and ruined it by putting her foot in her mouth. “This is my mother, Mrs. Crewel. Ma, this is Miss Linette Richardson. Thanks for staying with Ma.” A curt nod, and he strode away toward his wife. Relief flooded him. As a married man, he wouldn’t have to suffer through Linette’s husband-hunting schemes anymore.

  Linette’s father let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Look at those, will you? Belgians!”

  “You’re an old married man, Richardson.” Toomel chuckled.

  “The real beauty holds the reins!” The neighbor who’d been minding his land slapped Todd on the back. “I’ll see you later. I’ll be grabbing the chance to meet – ”

  “My bride.”

  “Your bride!” John Toomel roared.

  Half running from the other direction, Piet Van der Vort stopped in his tracks. Though he owned the livery and appreciated fine horses, the Belgians weren’t what grabbed his attention. Jealousy colored his booming voice. “Valmer, you’d better not be talking about that pretty young gal who just drove – ”

  “I am.” Vexed as he was with Magpie, Todd admitted she’d made quite an entrance. He lifted her down, kept her clamped to his side, and made some brief introductions.

  Piet scuffed the ground with his boot. “You fooled us. We never expected you were bringing home a bride. The telegram said your mother needed a wagon.”

  “ ‘Mother ill. Need wagons tonight,’ ” Magpie recited softly. When it came to telegrams, shorter was cheaper. She might chatter a lot, but she’d been economical when helping him compose the message.

  “Huh? That’s not what we got.” Toomel pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and smoothed it out as best he could. “ ‘Mother’ll need wagons tonight.’ We reckoned she was shipping a bunch more stuff. Big Tim hauled everything that came a week ago out to your place.”

  Chuckling, Piet slapped him on the back. “The mistake on the telegram is understandable.”

  Maggie inched away from Todd and stepped toward Adam. The stallion had started acting up, and Todd reached out to yank her back. To his alarm, she skirted out of his reach.

  “Thou flea-bitten hunk of wayward will, be still.” She served a solid smack to the stallion’s shoulder, and he whipped his head to her.

  Every man there dove to spare her the horse’s tantrum.

  Adam nuzzled the side of her face, and she petted his forelock. “We’re in Texas now. You’re to show these men how well-behaved you are. No more fretting. You’ll get Eve all worked up.” Adam nuzzled her again, and she giggled.

  One arm banding her waist, Todd pushed the enormous horse’s head away. “Woman – ”

  “Please don’t be upset with your new horses. Given time, they’ll adjust. Adam didn’t mean to offend you with his little show.”

  “Show?” Piet wiped the sweat pouring from his brow. “Ma’am, that stallion could trample you in a couple of seconds.”

  “A heartbeat,” Todd corrected in a raw tone.

  “Adam’s harmless as a speckled pup to me.” She smiled. “I’ll grant you, he could pose danger to others, but he trusts me. The trust was hard-won, and true love casts out fear.” The crazy woman nodded as if the Bible verse applied to this situation. “I’ll lead them over to the side whilst you unload things.” She pursed her lips, made a kissing sound, and the pair of behemoths trundled after her.

  “Todd, you can have her. She’d have me gray and babbling by the end of a day.” Piet shook his head. “Never saw a stallion put up with that, but one of these days . . .”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, John mercifully changed the topic. “There’s more to unload? The woman and the horses are already a staggering booty.”

  Groaning, Todd got into the boxcar. John stood below and let out a low whistle. “What a cache!”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Passing things down a line and into the buckboards, Todd grated, “Some of this will be useful, but my bride is sentimental. I promised she could bring her treasures – but I thought she meant a dozen crates.”

  John belted out a laugh. “Women confuse the daylights out of me. Let me know when you figure out how to understand what she means when she says something.”

  “Only men in the Bible lived that long.”

  Betwixt the stingy sliver of a moon and the heavy clouds, Maggie couldn’t see much of their farm. Mr. Richardson and John Toomel veered left and continued on toward the barn. Pulling the buckboard to a halt alongside the one the liveryman drove, Maggie barely glanced at the house.

  Todd sat beside her, holding Ma across his lap. Poor Ma sagged against him, too exhausted to open her eyes as she whimpered, “Did that man at the station say my bed’s waiting?”

  Maggie set the brake and dropped the reins. Fussing with Ma’s blanket, she confirmed, “Aye. Before anything else at all, I’ll tuck you in.”

  The liveryman reached up to take Ma.

  Todd handed her to him, hopped down, and immediately took her back. He strode off toward the cabin, leaving Maggie standing on the edge of the buckboard, waiting for him to help her down.

  The liveryman gawked at her, shook his h
ead, and stepped up.

  “Ma’am.”

  A good wife covered for her husband’s missteps – even when they trampled her feelings. “Thank you. My man’s sore worried o’er his ma.” Embarrassed, Maggie kept talking as she grabbed the valise and satchel they’d need for the night. “You’re most kind to help us, sir, and I’m chagrinned I don’t recall your name.”

  “Piet Van der Vort. Go. After you see to the old woman, you can decide what you need for tonight.”

  She rushed toward the house and called over her shoulder, “Don’t move that buckboard. Adam won’t approve.”

  A hint of light sneaking around the door led her to her new home. I ought to take comfort in how Todd left the door ajar to let the light guide me here. She pushed it farther open with the satchel. Still, she couldn’t help herself. Eyes focused downward, Maggie stepped over the threshold. Suppose it doesn’t make a whit’s difference if a groom carries his bride o’er the threshold the second time instead of the first.

  A soft circle of light from a lamp on a pretty bureau drew her attention to a matching bedstead. Maggie kicked the door shut and hastened over to Ma’s side. “Here we are now – home at last.”

  “It’s f-f-freezing in h-h-here.” Ma’s teeth chattered.

  “I am starting a fire.” Todd’s confident words, alone, warmed Maggie. There was something fundamentally reassuring about how he immediately saw to their basic comforts.

  Removing Ma’s shoes, Maggie soothed, “I’ll pile on plenty o’ cozy quilts. Come morning, when we’ve plenty of warm water, I’ll wash the aches out of you.”

  Ma groaned as Maggie eased the covers from beneath her. “Poor Ma, miserable after sitting all that time.” Tugging the quilts back up, Maggie promised, “My willow and menthol salve will heat up those joints and ease some of the hurt. I’ll go fetch it.”

  As she straightened up, she noticed with pleasure how well the cabin wall had been chinked. After seeing this lovely corner prepared for Todd’s mother, Maggie could scarcely wait to see the rest of her new home.