The Springtime Mail Order Bride

by Kit Morgan

  “For telling her I’m not a puppy.”

  He smiled. “No. You’re my wife, and no one is going to tell me otherwise. Now, let’s enjoy our pie.”

  And so, they shared their first dessert of pie and coffee together.

  * * *

  Arlan’s new bride was beautiful when riled, and he found he liked to tease her. But in his world, there was teasing, and then there was teasing, and he figured it in his best interest to leave the latter alone. At least until he could gauge how much she could take, and how well she could sling it back. She’d have to learn sooner or later, especially now that she was part of the Weaver clan.

  They walked to her room, and Arlan stopped her before she went inside. “You get enough to eat?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. You can stop asking.”

  “Just making sure.” He handed her a cloth sack, and a wrapped package. “I put some of your new things in here. You’ll need them for tonight. Are you cold? I could have Mrs. Gunderson give you extra blankets.”

  She smiled as she took the sack and package from him, and looked up into his eyes. “Thank you.”

  They stood and stared at each other before he finally asked, “For what?”

  “For everything. No one’s ever done so much for me before.”

  He stood straight, his heart filling with pride. “I’m glad to do it. You’ll be warm enough?”

  “I’m sure I will. I’ve slept in much colder circumstances than … er, never mind.”

  He eyed her, her words grating. He hated when she became evasive, but wasn’t going to push it tonight. Right now, he wanted to gaze at her. She had a contented look on her face, and he knew it was from the meal, and the fact she was finally warm. He wanted to keep her that way. He also had the sudden urge to kiss her, but swallowed hard and looked away. “I’d best go find my bed. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said and turned to leave.

  She reached out and touched his arm to stop him. “Thank you again … for everything.”

  He looked down at her, and could see the gratitude in her big brown eyes. The sight made his heart swell, and he realized her hand was still on his sleeve. He took it in one of his own, his eyes never leaving hers, then bent at the waist, and ever so gently kissed the tender skin.

  She sucked in a shaky breath as her lower lip trembled. “Good night,” she said as she pulled her hand away, stepped into the room, and after one last look at him, closed the door behind her.

  Arlan smiled, pleased with her reaction. He wanted his wife to know that it was her hand he would kiss. Not the hand of someone like that Bridger woman downstairs.

  “How romantic …”

  Speak of the devil. Arlan turned around to face Olivia Bridger. He’d been so enamored with Samijo, he hadn’t heard her come up behind him. “Evening.”

  “Separate rooms? Must be hard on a man, you being newly married and all.”

  He glared down at her. “My business does not concern you, Miss Bridger. Good night.”

  “You live on the farm half a day’s ride east of here, don’t you?”

  He’d already begun to turn around, an obvious dismissal, but stopped. “Who told you that?” he asked over his shoulder

  “Mrs. Gunderson talks a lot.”

  He turned back to face her. “Mrs. Gunderson only talks about things when asked.”

  She gave him a pouty look. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. I doubt your new little wife will last a month working that farm of yours. When she quits and leaves, I might turn up.”

  “The good Lord certainly didn’t spare the arrogance when it came to you, did He Miss Bridger?”

  “It’s not arrogance, Mr. Weaver. It’s confidence.” She gave him a pretty smile, and with a swish of her skirts, sauntered down the hall.

  He shook his head as he watched her go. “Whew,” he breathed as she rounded a corner and disappeared. He glanced to the ceiling overhead. “Lord, thank you for not letting that be what got off the stage to marry me.” He shuddered at the thought, and went to his room.

  * * *

  The next morning was crisp and cold, and Samijo was loath to leave the warm confines of her bed. She had her first decent night’s sleep since leaving New Orleans, and would have liked to stay snuggled and hidden away, but the knock on her door told her otherwise. “Yes?”

  “Time for breakfast,” Arlan called from the other side.

  She smiled at the sound of his voice. “I’ll be right down,” she called back.

  “I’m going to hitch up the team. Try to hurry, we need to get going.”

  She listened as his footsteps faded away down the hall, then braced herself to leave the confines of her warm bed. She took a deep breath, grimaced, and threw back the covers. “Oh! Brrrrr.” Her teeth started to chatter as she went to a small table and poured some water into a washbasin from a nearby pitcher. The water felt colder than the room, and any sleep left to her was gone after she washed her face. That done, she took her new comb from the sack Arlan gave her the night before, and ran it through her long hair. She then quickly braided it, stripped off her nightclothes, and was about to put on her old dress when she remembered the package Arlan gave her along with the sack. She hadn’t looked at it the night before; she was too intent on the bed; that and Arlan’s tender kiss on the hand. Even now she could feel his lips brushing fire upon her skin. Maybe the room wasn’t so cold after all …

  She picked up the wrapped package, pulled the string, and opened it. “Oh …” she breathed. “A dress …” She picked it up and shook it out. It was a simple pink dress, with elbow length sleeves trimmed in white lace, but to Samijo, it was one of the most beautiful frocks she had ever seen. She held it up to herself and looked about the room for a mirror, but there was none. She sighed, set the dress on the bed, and then hurried to put it on. She didn’t want Arlan to have to wait for her.

  Once dressed, she packed her few things away into the sack, took her coat, and left the room. Arlan was nowhere in sight when she descended the stairs to the main room of the stage stop. Half of Mrs. Gunderson’s guests were already having their breakfast, while the rest still hadn’t come down, including Olivia Bridger and her mother. Samijo breathed a sigh of relief. She had no desire to see the woman again. She thought she’d heard her voice in the hall last night, but was too busy putting on her nightclothes and crawling between the sheets. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until she spied the bed and heard it beckon.

  She sat, and no sooner had she done so, Mrs. Gunderson was setting a bowl of hot oatmeal in front of her. “Best eat up, your man will be wanting to get back to his farm by lunchtime.”

  “How long have you known my husband, Mrs. Gunderson?” Samijo asked.

  “Oh let’s see, just about as long as they’ve lived out here. Those boys have had a rough time of it since losing their pa a few years back. Their ma, she don’t get out much, only comes to town a few times a year since Mr. Weaver passed. Poor thing, I’m glad you’ll be there to keep her company.”

  Samijo smiled, and was about to comment, when Arlan came through the door. “Eat up Mrs. Weaver. I want to take you home.”

  Five

  Home was half a day’s wagon ride from the stage stop. They’d set out shortly after sunup and had left the main stage route an hour ago and were now making their way down a gentle slope into a small valley. “Arlan, it’s so beautiful,” Samijo breathed as she took in the fields, orchards, farmhouse and barns. “Is that our house?” she asked and pointed.

  “No, that’s the main farmhouse. Our place is on the other side of the orchards.” He pulled the team to a stop, and looked at her. “All this is Weaver land,” he said as he swept his hand in an arc. “My parents settled here years ago and built the house and the barns.”

  She sat up and craned her neck to see. “Where’s your house?”

  He laughed. “Like I said, it’s on the other side of the orchards, but it’s a one story cabin. It’s hard to see from here unless there’s a fir
e going. Then at least you can see the smoke from the chimney.”

  “A … cabin?”

  He looked at her, his brow raised. “You do know what a cabin is, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she began though somewhat hesitant. “But I’ve never seen one.”

  “You’ve never seen a cabin?”

  “No. I’ve lived in a city all my life.”

  He glanced to the orchards below. “Don’t that beat all … someone who’s never seen a cabin …”

  She scrunched up her face in thought. “Have you ever seen a riverboat?”

  “No, can’t say that I have.”

  “Then that makes us even.”

  “Have you seen one?”

  Samijo stared up at him. “Seen what?”

  “A riverboat, silly.”

  She bit her lower lip. “No, but I lived near them and could hear their whistles blowing.”

  “Hearing and seeing are two different things, Mrs. Weaver.”

  “Well … you can’t hear a cabin.”

  He laughed. “Trust me, every time my ax hit the trees I used to build it, I heard plenty.”

  “You built it yourself?”

  “Of course, who else was going to?”

  Her eyes widened and she gave him a half-smile.

  He leaned toward her. “I can build a lot of things, Mrs. Weaver.”

  She licked dry lips. “Can you?”

  He smiled, his face drawing closer to hers. “I’ll show you,” he said, his voice dropped in pitch. He leaned closer, his eyes finding hers, and locking. “You’re about the prettiest thing I’ve ever…”

  Samijo screamed as the horses suddenly bolted. Arlan was quick to grab her to him as he fought to slow them. She clung to his jacket with one hand, and hung onto the wagon seat with the other. Something must have spooked the animals, otherwise why would they have broke into a run?

  “Whoa!” Arlan called to them as he tried to bring the horses under control. He cursed, but Samijo didn’t care, she was too frightened, and continued to hang onto him for dear life. The beasts had run halfway down the slope before he got them to slow enough for her to know they were out of danger.

  Once they reached the valley floor, Arlan brought the wagon to a stop, and took a deep breath.

  “I’m going to beat them silly for this,” he said under his breath.

  “What happened?” Samijo asked, both hands now gripping his jacket.

  He turned to her, pried her hands from him, and then took her into his arms. “It’s all right, nothing to worry about. You’re safe.”

  “Arlan?” she mumbled into his chest.

  It was the first time he held her like this, and he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. “Shhhh, you’re safe, that’s all that matters.” He closed his eyes with the thought. Yes, she was safe. But his brothers weren’t. When he found them, he was going to take a whip to all three for this. He’d heard the slight thump as the rock (he assumed it was a rock) struck one of the horses. Calvin, it had to be Calvin. He was the only one that owned a slingshot.

  As much as he hated to do it, Arlan gently pushed them apart and tucked a finger under Samijo’s chin. He tilted her face up to his own and studied her. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes,”

  They were so close, all he would have to do his lower his face a few inches, and he could kiss her. He closed his eyes and did his best to still his breathing, before she realized the danger wasn’t over. Run away horses were one thing, a run away heart, another. If he kissed her now, he’d take her straight to his cabin and …

  “Well look who’s back!” a voice called from out of the nearest orchard.

  Araln and Samijo looked as a young man was walking toward them from out of the trees. He reached up and brushed at the lowest branches, his tousled brown hair and hazel eyes shining in the spring sunshine. “Who is that?” Samijo whispered.

  “Benjamin. My brother.”

  “Ah yes. Of course, your brothers,” she stated.

  He looked down at her. “I told you about my brothers, didn’t I?”

  “No, but Mrs. Gunderson did.”

  His face took on a worried look. “Whatever she told you, none of its true,” he pushed out. “Okay, so maybe some of it, but you can’t believe everything someone tells you.”

  She blinked a few times in confusion, and then smiled. “Are they really that bad?”

  Arlan watched as Benjamin began to trot to the wagon. “Sometimes.”

  She turned to look at his brother just as he reached them. “Howdy there,” he said as he studied her. Samijo looked between the two men. Both had the same thick brown hair and strong features, and from where she sat, she could tell Benjamin wasn’t as tall as Arlan. He was also obviously a few years younger, with eyes as bright as her husbands, but hazel instead of blue. “Hello,” she said.

  “Where’s ma?” Arlan asked.

  “Up at the house ready to bust a gut she’s so excited.”

  “Is she feeling better?”

  Benjamin took on a more serious look. “Yep, but she still needs to rest. I told her to stay in bed, but you know how stubborn she is.”

  Arlan gave his attention back to Samijo. “I’d be much obliged if you’d look after her for a few days, then I’ll have you help me with the farm. Besides, it would give the two of you a chance to get acquainted.”

  Samijo nodded. “Of course.”

  He nodded in return, and then with a flick of the reins, there were off again. Benjamin leapt up into the wagon bed, sat, and started to whistle. Aralan glanced backwards now and then, his eyes narrowed, and Samijo wondered if he wasn’t upset with his brother about something. She sighed. She was going to have to learn the ins and outs of the Weaver clan. Especially now that she was one of them.

  Arlan brought the wagon to a halt in front of his families two-story, white farmhouse. She took in the sight of lace curtains in the windows, a porch swing, and pretty vines that crept up one corner of the house and onto the porch rail. She had no doubt the vine, whatever it was, bloomed in the summer. The house was quaint and charming, and she loved it.

  “There you are!” a woman exclaimed as she came out the front door. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. I though you’d never get here.”

  “Howdy, ma. Feeling better?”

  The woman ignored her son and looked right at Samijo. “I’m right as rain, now.”

  Samijo smiled. The woman was petite, shorter than herself, and thin. Her hair looked to have been the same color of her son’s at one time, but was heavily mixed with grey. Her blue eyes were piercing, and gave Samijo the feeling that the small woman would brook no argument from her sons when it came down to it. Tiny she was, weak she wasn’t, and it was all in her eyes. “Hello,” she greeted. “I’m Samijo.”

  “No you’re not, you’re my new daughter, now get down off that wagon so I can give you a nice big hug of a welcome!”

  Samijo smiled, and blushed at the woman’s enthusiasm. She didn’t know how to react. No one had made such a fuss over her on a first meeting.

  Arlan helped her down as Benjamin hopped out of the wagon. As soon as her own feet touched the ground, the little woman was on her. She grabbed Samijo’s hands into her own and shook them both. “My but you’re a pretty thing, and tall too.”

  “She’s not that tall, ma,” Arlan said as he went to the back of the wagon and started to take out some of Samijo’s things.

  “She’s certainly taller than me,” his mother replied. “But then, everyone is.”

  Samijo smiled down at her. “I hear you haven’t been feeling well.”

  “Who told you that? I’ve never felt better,” the woman replied.

  “She lies all the time,” Benjamin said. “Don’t believe a word she says.”

  Samijo smiled again. “She’s too pretty to be a liar.”

  Araln stopped what he was doing and stared at her. Benjamin came around the wagon and patted one of the horses. “Ma? She’s trying to b
utter you up.”

  “No I’m not. Aralan told me that honesty brings out the best in people, and if that’s so, then you must be very honest, because you’re very pretty.”

  Arlan’s face lit up with a wide smile. “That she is,” he said, just before his face took on a flat expression. “But don’t turn your back on her.”

  Their mother rolled her eyes. “Pay them no mind, they’re like this all the time. Now, let’s get one thing straight before we do anything else.”

  “What’s that?” Samijo asked.

  “You’re to call me Ma, just like my boys. You’re part of my family now, and I want you feel at home.”

  “All right, I can do that.”

  “I can do that …” the woman prompted.

  Samijo glanced at Arlan, who smiled and nodded. “I can do that, Ma.”

  “Right you can! Now you boys get that wagon unloaded while me and my new daughter go fix some lunch.” She hugged Samijo then, her thin arms wrapping around her like steel. For such a little thing, her strength was amazing. “I’m so very glad you’re here at last,” she mumbled against Samijo’s shoulder. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited.”

  Samijo raised her hands, and patted the woman on the back, not sure of what else to do. It was then she remembered Mrs. Gunderson’s words. His ma has been trying to see him married for years.

  She smiled and closed her eyes, enjoying the warm hug until it was over. Ma then took her by the elbow and started to lead her into the house, and for the first time in a very long time, Samijo had a mother again.

  * * *

  “What happened after that?” Ma asked her as she handed Samijo a cup of coffee.

  “I was so young I don’t remember. I only know she died in a riding accident. Because of it my father never allowed me to learn how to ride a horse. Nor did my uncle.”

  “It’s a shame to see a child lose a parent at such a young age, especially a mother.”

  They were seated at the kitchen table. When Ma guided her inside earlier, she took her straight to the kitchen where she had a stew simmering on the stove. The meal had already been cooked so preparing lunch, as Ma put it, constituted slicing bread. Samijo was happy to do the small task, then sit and wait for the men with their mother.