by Kit Morgan
“This is delicious!” Benjamin blurted.
Daniel belched.
Calvin burst out laughing.
Arlan moaned as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.
Samijo looked to Mrs. Weaver for a response. The older woman glanced at her, shrugged, and said. “Welcome to the family.”
* * *
Dessert produced more belching, laughing and moaning. Oh, and words of appreciation too, this time from all four brothers. Arlan looked on with pride as they showered her with praise for her culinary prowess, and smiled every time she blushed at a compliment. Uncle Burr never sang such praises over her cooking. He liked complaining about it instead. He liked to complain about a lot of things concerning her.
A warm hand sprawled itself against her back, and Samijo sucked in a breath as Arlan whispered in her ear. “Thank you for a wonderful meal, Mrs. Weaver.”
“You like the sound of that don’t you?” she whispered back.
Arlan’s lowered his face to her ear as his other hand found her arm. “Yes,” he said.
She swallowed as her belly warmed and her knees went weak.
“But I’ll like saying it better in our own home …”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“I want you to cook my supper there,” he whispered. “And my dessert, and when we’re done eating, we’ll go to …”
“I think Arlan’s sweet on his wife,” Calvin said with a chuckle.
“I think he’s a lot more than sweet on her.” Benjamin remarked with a smile.
“Leave them be you two. In fact, you can let them alone and do the dishes.”
“Ma! That’s women’s work!”
“Well this woman isn’t feeling too good, and that woman …” she looked at Samijo with a smile. “… is gonna be feeling real good once your brother gets her home.”
Arlan shot his mother a warning glare as the tips of his ears turned a bright red. “Ma!”
Benjamin and Calvin burst out laughing and began to slap each other on the back. Daniel shook his head in disgust, got up from the table, and began to clear the dishes away.
Samijo watched in fascination, and had not a clue as to what Ma was talking about.
“You going to be all right, Ma?” Arlan asked.
“I’ll be fine. You go on home, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
Arlan smiled, a smile that quickly turned into a huge grin. He then puffed out his chest and looked at his brothers. “Good night, boys.” He put an arm around Samijo, and started to steer her toward the door.
“Land sakes, at least fetch the girl her shawl!” his mother said. “Otherwise she’ll be freezing by the time you get her home.”
“Maybe that’s what he’s countin’ on.” Calvin remarked with an amused smirk.
“Calvin, mind your manners, one day you’ll be married too.”
“Yeah,” Benjamin said as he slapped his brother in the back of his head.
Daniel was still silent, but rolled his eyes and smiled as he set a kettle of water on the stove.
“I’ll get my shawl,” Samijo said as she escaped Arlan’s arm and headed to the sewing room where she’d left it. When she got there, she plucked her shawl off a chair, wrapped it around her shoulders, and continued to ponder the Weavers’ behavior. What had them in such a good mood all of a sudden? And what did Ma mean when she said that she would be feeling good later? Samijo shook her head in confusion when suddenly …
“Oh!” She slowly turned toward the parlor. She would have to pass through it to get back to the kitchen. “Oh dear … they don’t mean … but what else? I am married!”
Samijo fell into a chair behind her. The Weaver clan had to be talking and teasing about … babies. The question was, what exactly did that entail? Samijo Weaver hadn’t a clue.
She walked back into the kitchen like a man heading to the gallows, her mind full of questions, ones she never dared ask her uncle about. Besides, she didn’t think she would need the answers until she was much older and over time, forgot about them.
But here they were, in all their stark glory, and about to be answered for her if her guess was right. She gulped back a lump of fear, and looked at her new husband. He stood proudly, his eyes locked with hers, and offered up a warm smile. Well, more of a really warm smile. Her stomach fluttered in response, and she gulped again.
“You two get yourselves a good night’s sleep,” Ma called after them as Arlan started to usher her out the kitchen door.
He closed it without a word, and she listened as all three brothers laughed with renewed vigor. Arlan groaned in response. “I hope they find women willing to marry them.”
Samijo looked up. “I’m sure they will … one day.”
He walked her half way across the barnyard and stopped. “You cold?”
Her head began to swim. “No.”
“Good.”
He took her by the hand, and they continued on their way. Arlan took the quickest route and cut through the orchard to his cabin. The air was chilly but clear, the moon overhead full, casting everything in light and shadow.
“This is beautiful,” she commented as they made their way between the trees. The branches had tiny buds on them, all looking as though they were ready to burst into a flowering madness any day.
“Yes, it is. “Springtime is my favorite time of year. Everything is new and fresh. Like you get to start over again.”
She smiled up at him as they walked hand in hand. “I like autumn myself, it begins to cool down. Summers were frightful in New Orleans. So hot and sticky, and it was hard to sleep when the heat became really bad.” Especially after Uncle Burr worked me to death all day. She almost said, but kept it to herself.
“Summer here is nice, it can get hot, but not like where you’re from. Or so I’ve heard.”
“Do you know anyone from New Orleans?”
“I’ve met a few. Sheriff Riley and his brother both married mail order brides, and they were from New Orleans.”
“Really? I wonder if they used the same mail order bride service I did?”
“They did,” he stated. “How do you think I got the idea?” He smiled, gave her hand a squeeze, and stopped.
Samijo glanced around the moonlit trees. “What is it? Is there a wild animal?” she asked with a hint of panic.
“No, nothing like that, but listen.” He took her other hand into his own and stood before her as she strained to hear what he wanted her to.
There was a soft, cold breeze making its way through the orchard, stirring the many branches in the moonlight. She could hear the faint sound of a frog, and an odd chirping noise. “What is it?” she whispered.
“Home,” he said as he looked down at her and pulled her closer. “Get used to hearing it. In time, you’ll long for it on days you’re away from this valley. You’ll miss the sounds, the smells. You might even miss my brothers.”
She giggled as he pulled closer. She was right in front of him now, and stared at his chest before she looked up at him. He cupped her face with one hand, and bent his face to hers. “You’re beautiful, Mrs. Weaver, and I want to make you mine.”
She audibly gulped. Was he going to kiss her? She’d never been kissed, not that she hadn’t imagined it, but still … what was one supposed to do in the real world of kissing? She stared up at him like an idiot, and gaped.
He looked her over, and pulled her closer again. Their bodies were touching now, and she felt her heart try to beat its way right out of her chest. If he hadn’t been holding her, she thought she might faint. Hmmm, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea!
“Samijo …” he said, his voice a rasp. His arms tightened about her, she was a total prisoner now. “Let’s get to the cabin.”
Even in the dark she could see his eyes roaming her face before they darted to her lips. She swallowed hard. “Yes, let’s.”
What if he didn’t like the way she kissed? Ah gee, she didn’t know the way she kissed! She didn’t know anything!
Would he think her a complete fool? But then, how much experience did he have living way out here? Had he ever been kissed? She glanced up at him as they broke through the trees and the cabin came into view on the other side of a field. He was incredibly handsome. What woman wouldn’t want to kiss him? She knew Olivia Bridger would have given her left arm given half the chance! So why was she so afraid to?
Samijo took a deep breath as her mind raced. She’d better figure it out fast, for they had already crossed the field, and now stood in front of her new home.
Seven
“Well, this is it. What do you think?” Arlan asked as he motioned to the front door.
Samijo looked at it. The cabin was small, with a front porch running the length of it. There was a rough-hewn door with a window on either side. Light spilled from both. He must have lit a lantern and left it burning before coming to dinner. “I’ve never seen a cabin before coming west. There was nothing like this in the city.”
“You’ll like it. I … I built it for you.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes full of wonder. “You did?”
“I built it for the woman I was to marry, the one that got off that stage. You.”
“I don’t know what to say, even though it could have been anyone that came to marry you … but I’m glad it was me.”
He looked at her a long time, then without warning, swept her up into his arms. She threw her arms around his neck in response and couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. She gazed into his eyes and he smiled wide. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he confessed with boyish delight. She hung on as he bent at he knees to open the door.
Nothing. It didn’t open.
“That’s strange,” he mumbled. He tried again, shaking it this time.
“Is it locked?”
“It couldn’t be, I didn’t lock it. I was the last one here.” He tried again, still nothing. “Oh for Heaven’s sake,” he said and set her on her feet. He tried again. The door didn’t budge. He stood and scratched his head. “I don’t understand, it never got stuck like this before.” He gently pushed her away from him, looked at the door, then gave it a healthy shove with his shoulder. It flew open, allowing the lantern light inside to spill out onto the porch, and gave Samijo an exceptional view of the large bucket perched precariously above them. Before she could warn him it tilted and spilled an odd white mixture onto Arlan’s head, before crashing onto it with a clang.
Arlan Weaver dropped like a stone.
Samijo yelped in surprise and went to his side. He was covered with thin white paste, water and flour if her guess was right. She peered down at him, her face a grimace. “Arlan? Arlan speak to me!”
Arlan didn’t make a sound.
“Oh, no!” Samijo quickly looked around. What to do? She got up, ran into the cabin and quickly glanced took in her surroundings. She saw what she knew would work, (she’d found Uncle Burr passed out often enough after one of his late night “business meetings”) snatched it up, and marched back out onto the porch.
“Arlan?” she said to the prone figure. “Ohhhh,” she groaned. “Forgive me.” She then dumped a pitcher of water on his head.
“Ahhhhhrrrrgggg” Arlan growled as he popped up into a sitting position, looked around, then fell over with a loud thud.
“Arlan!” Samijo screeched. “Wake up, I mean … get up!”
He lay there like a fallen log.
“Oh, this is terrible!”
Arlan moaned again.
Samijo wiped what was left of the flower mixture from his face with the edge of her shawl, then cradled his head in her lap. “Arlan? Can you hear me?”
“Ma?”
“No! Samijo.”
“Maaaaaa?”
Samijo rolled her eyes. “I’m Samijo, your wife?”
“Wife? What wife?”
“The one you married yesterday?” she said as a horrible realization hit. What if the knock on the head made him lose his memory? She’d read about it in a book from Uncle Burr’s library. She looked down at him, and noticed a large lump beginning to form on the right side of his forehead. “Oh no …”
She scanned her surroundings. Should she leave him and get help? Or try to get him into the cabin and to bed? “Arlan, you have to get up!”
He looked at her. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter with me? Look what’s that matter with you!”
He tried to sit up, swayed, and went down again. “What is the matter with me?”
Samijo sighed, and pointed to the dreaded bucket that now lay to one side. Arlan looked, and scowled. “I’m going to kill them.”
“Arlan!” she exclaimed as realization dawned. “They’re your brothers!”
“Then I’ll maim them. After tonight I’m not sure I want to claim them as my brothers.” He reached up and touched his forehead. The lump was huge. “Ow!”
“Here, let me help you into the house, then I’ll clean up this mess,” she offered.
He gave a curt nod. It hurt. Samijo helped him to a sitting position and sat beside him when he motioned her to stop. He let a bout of dizziness pass before he tried to stand. “Should I send for the doctor?” she asked.
“Sweetheart, there’s no doctor around here for miles. There’s no one around here for miles.”
“What? No one?” she asked as she helped him to stand.
“No one. Which is why my brothers might die the next time I see them.”
“Don’t talk like that,” she said as she helped him stumble into the cabin and sit in the nearest chair. That done, she brushed some loose strands of hair out of her face, then went to the door and closed it. Finally, she turned around and looked at Arlan’s handiwork. “Oh my …” she said under her breath. The cabin was charming.
Everything looked to be hand carved, and why wouldn’t it? Of course, he could have gone to Nowhere and had some pieces made, or ordered them from back east, but no. Each piece of furniture, every log and stone, had Arlan’s hand all over it. How did she know? Because every thing in the room matched and flowed together like music from a grand symphony.
Samijo closed her eyes, searching for the memory. It was faint, fading every year, but was still there. A woman in a beautiful gown, a man dressed in fine clothes, and Samijo wearing a pretty white dress. And music, lots of music. It was loud and powerful, and she fell in love with it. It had been the only time in her life to hear such a wonder. The man (she thought his name might be Percy) called it a symphony. She’d used it to measure the grandness of things ever since. But the memory, after years of living under the suffocating hand of Uncle Burr, was almost gone, and she’d long forgotten who the man and woman were. “Arlan, this is wonderful.”
He raised his head to look at her. “I’m glad you like it. I hate to ask this, but I think I’d better lie down. Can you help me?”
She looked at him concerned. “Yes, does your head hurt something fierce?”
“Yeah, if it hurts like this tomorrow, my brothers might live to see another day.”
The situation was horrible, yet funny at the same time, and she tried not to giggle. “I’m so sorry, but I’m sure they were …”
“What? Playing a joke? They were playing a joke all right, which would have been fine if it was just me. But you’re here now, and they’re going to have to grow up and stop playing so rough.”
Samijo eyes rounded. “That bad?”
“Darlin’, you heard what Ma said. They tossed Daniel down a well.”
She blushed at the endearment, pressed her lips together and nodded. “Oh, yes, I’d forgotten about that.”
“I’ll have to deal with them, it’s high time I did.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and grimaced. “I feel like a tree fell on me.” He looked at his white splashed clothes. “What is this?”
“I think it’s flour and water.”
Arlan shook his head as his jaw tightened. “This is my fault. I’ve let them carry on this way for far too long.
She stepped behind his chair, and with some hesitancy at first, touched the back of his neck. “Does this hurt?”
“No, but my head sure does.” He reached back, took her hand, and pulled her around in front of him. “Not a very nice way to spend your wedding night, is it?”
She smiled. “There will be other nights. Now, let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll help you to bed.”
He pulled her closer. “It’s our bed, you know.”
She sucked in a breath. “I … I know.”
He reached up and brushed hair out of her face. “I wanted tonight … to be special. Again, I’m sorry.”
She stilled his hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll feel better in the morning.”
He closed his fingers over hers, and kissed the back of her hand. “Let’s go to bed.”
She helped him up, and for the first time, they went into their bedroom and slept in the bed Arlan had built for his new bride. Of course sleeping was all they did, as Arlan was in no shape to do anything else. But, at least he’d be well rested in the morning. Which was too bad for his brothers …
* * *
Samijo awoke at dawn, saw that Arlan was still sleeping, and so crept from the bed and tried not to disturb him. The night before he’d donned his nightclothes as she changed behind a screened partition. It was white with flowers painted onto it, and she knew it was the one thing in the house he didn’t build. She meant to ask him if it had belonged to his mother, but when she stepped out and saw him standing with his hair mussed and wearing a nightshirt that was too short for him, all she could do was giggle. He laughed, knowing he looked ridiculous, but then sank onto the bed from a bout of dizziness. After that, she sobered, and was up half the night listening to him breathe, wondering if he’d been hurt worse than they both thought, and what would happen if he became ill.
