The Springtime Mail Order Bride

by Kit Morgan

  For richer or poorer … in sickness and in health … The preacher’s words came out of nowhere, and she mumbled them to herself as she went behind the partition to dress. She then tip-toed from the room to make breakfast.

  The kitchen area had a stove, a table, and two chairs. There was a hutch with a few dishes, cups, two pots and a frying pan. She took the pan and set it on the stove, then got the fire going. She was familiar with this routine. She’d been doing it since she was ten. She then found some eggs sitting in a bowl in a cupboard, and wondered if Arlan had built them a smoke house, or a root cellar when there came a knock on the door.

  She spun to it and stared. What if it was a stranger? “Samijo,” she said to herself. “Don’t be silly. You’re out in the middle of nowhere.” She continued to mumble as she went to answer the door. It was Daniel.

  “Mornin’, I’ve come to tell ya breakfast is ready up at the house if you’re interested.”

  “Oh, why thank you, but Arlan isn’t up yet.”

  “He ain’t? What’s the matter with him? You didn’t break him, did ya?”

  Samijo stared at him a moment then blushed a deep red. “No.”

  “Ah, well, that’s good.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, and placed her hands on her hips. “In fact, the reason he’s not up is because your brothers laid a trap for us and he got hurt because of it.”

  “What?” Daniel said as his eyes darted up then back. “What are you talking about?”

  Samijo folded her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you tell me, you seem to know what happened.”

  “Why … why do you say that?” he asked as he began to back away.

  “Because why else would you have looked up? You knew that bucket was there, didn’t you? Was this your idea?”

  He gulped and took a few more steps backwards. “I think I hear Ma calling me …”

  “She’ll be calling you, but you won’t like it.”

  He froze. “Don’t tell Ma, please …”

  “Ah ha! I knew it. And why shouldn’t I tell her? Arlan got hurt because of you three.”

  “That wasn’t supposed to happen, we thought you’d just get … wet.”

  “He’s got a lump on his head the size of an apple.”

  Daniel almost choked. “He does? He’s gonna kill us!”

  Samijo smiled. “Yes, he is.”

  Daniel leaned to one side to see past her, took one look at the closed bedroom door, then turned and ran for the field. She watched him go, and did her best to stifle a laugh. Let the three troublemakers think a fate worse than death awaited them once their brother got up. She didn’t know the boys well, but had seen enough to know she’d better protect her husband from their pranks if she wanted to keep him in one piece. She sighed as she closed the door, and went to make Arlan his breakfast.

  It didn’t take long before the cook stove was hot enough so Samijo could get to work. She searched the kitchen to find a few more ingredients, and soon had a batch of biscuits in the oven. Eggs and biscuits might not be elaborate fare, but it beat nothing at all. She didn’t think Arlan would be in the mood to breakfast with his brothers, and considering Daniel’s hasty retreat, his brothers wouldn’t be looking forward to sharing a meal with him either.

  “Good morning …”

  Samijo jumped, dropping the spatula she’d been using. She spun to see Arlan half-dressed, standing in the bedroom’s doorway. Her eyes riveted on his broad chest, as she froze. She’d never seen a man bare-chested before.

  “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

  It was all she could do to raise her eyes to his. “Ah … I … er …”

  His face broke into a wide grin. “Like what you see?” he teased. She sucked in a breath, and looked away, her face red. For some reason, she couldn’t get her mouth to work. She stood there speechless as he came up behind her. “Is that for me?” he asked and leaned over her shoulder to look at the eggs.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed as she realized the eggs were about to burn. She took the pan from the stove and set it to the side, then snatched up the spatula from the floor. When she did, Arlan was directly in front of her. She looked up into his eyes and was mesmerized. She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Good morning,” came out a breathy whisper.

  He was magnificent, and stood before her in nothing but his trousers and disheveled hair. His body was powerfully built, and she had a brief vision of him building the cabin in which she stood, his heart for a bride driving his every move. And she was that bride. Her heart felt as if it would burst with the thought. What care and attention this man had put into the small dwelling. Her home in New Orleans with Uncle Burr was enormous by comparison, but held no love.

  Was that what she was feeling? Love? She didn’t know, she’d not loved in years, and could only remember the love she had for her father before he died. But after that, there was nothing. Uncle Burr kept her so busy, there wasn’t time to feel much of anything, except tired.

  “Come here, Mrs. Weaver,” he said softly, reached out, and caught her pink dress by the sleeve. He pulled her to him, and he looked down at her face. “Hello,” he whispered.

  “Hello,” she said, just as softly.

  “Are those biscuits I smell?”

  She nodded, unable to form words as he tucked a finger under her chin to lift her face higher. He then studied her. “You’re a beautiful sight in the morning,” he said, his voice no longer a whisper, but a low rasp.

  She tried to swallow, but her mouth went dry, her body was growing warmer by the second. She didn’t know what to do, to say, to think! Was he going to kiss her? Right there in front of the eggs?

  “The eggs!” she squeaked as her eyes darted to the pan not feet away.

  “To heck with the eggs,” he said and drew her into his arms.

  He crushed her body to his, and she inhaled the scent of him. His actions were not expected, but she found the excitement of it thrilled her beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Her head began to spin from the wild beating of her heart, and her knees buckled.

  “I’ve found something better than eggs for breakfast, Mrs. Weaver …” he said as his face lowered to hers, closer, closer … “Samijo,” he whispered against her lips.

  His breathing was ragged, and she noticed it wasn’t only him, she couldn’t breathe at all! Every fiber of her being was alive and tingling something fierce. To have him so close, his lips hovering over hers was torture! Just do it! She thought to herself. Before I faint!

  His lips lowered, his heated breath joining with hers …

  The front door flew open. “What’s this I hear about you … oh my!”

  Arlan yanked his head up to stare at his mother. She stood just inside the door, with a shocked look on her face that quickly turned to embarrassment. “Ma!”

  Samijo still couldn’t breathe right, her eyes moving toward the door, her face still turned up to Arlan’s. She wanted to scream at the intrusion, every nerve in her body alive and on fire, and her heart felt as though it would burst from her chest. She licked her dry lips and looked back to Arlan.

  “You raised me that it was impolite to enter a man’s home uninvited,” he told her, albeit through clenched teeth.

  “I came because I heard you got hurt!” she shot back. “Good morning to you too!”

  Arlan straightened, pulling Samijo upright with him. She’d been held at an odd angle, poised for his kiss, her head tilted back as far as it would go. She rubbed her neck and finally let go the breath she’d been holding, then looked at Arlan’s mother. “Good morning,” she said, her voice weak.

  “For Heaven’s sake, son. Put some clothes on!” she said to Arlan, then turned to Samijo as he stomped from the room. “Good morning,” she said sweetly. Sleep well?”

  Samijo gave her a lopsided smile in return and nodded. Her first moment ever of pure romantic bliss, and it gets interrupted. Sigh … She turned to the eggs behind her on the small worktable. They looked as sad as
she felt. She turned them anyway, the pan still warm, then moved out of Arlan’s embrace to take the biscuits out of the oven.

  “Well?” his mother said as he re-joined them, fully dressed. “Are you going to tell me what …” she took a step closer and peered at Arlan’s head. “Land sakes, son! What did that?”

  Arlan reached up and touched the lump on his forehead. “You’d best ask your other sons, maybe they’ll have an answer.”

  She sighed, coughed, and sat in a chair. “They’re old enough to know better, Arlan. I’m sorry, and on your wedding night too.”

  He took the other chair and sat across the table from her. “I understand they took Pa’s death hard, but it’s been years now. They’re hard workers, I can’t fault them there, but these childish pranks have got to stop. Samijo could have been the one hurt, not just me. And what of Daniel? He’s lucky he didn’t break his neck when they tossed him into the well.”

  “They threw him in feet first …” she offered.

  “It doesn’t matter, their pranks have to stop. They’ll never get married if they carry on like this. What woman wants a boy in a man’s body?”

  “You’re right,” she said then looked to Samijo. “I’m sorry, maybe I coddled them too much after their pa died. Arlan’s right, you could have been hurt.”

  “I understand how they feel. I remember what it was like when my father died.”

  “But you were so much younger than my boys when you lost your pa. They know better, but … I guess maybe they want to stay boys a little longer.”

  Aralan smiled. “He was the worst prankster of all,” he said to Samijo. “He did come up with some good ones.”

  “I can understand why your brothers like doing them, especially if pranks and jokes remind them of their father.”

  “But at too high a cost,” Arlan said. “I’ll speak to them before lunch. Don’t worry, they won’t be pulling any more pranks after I’m done with them.”

  Eight

  Samijo and Ma sat at the kitchen table peeling potatoes. One or both women would glance out the kitchen window every few minutes wondering if Arlan was done giving his “talk” to his younger brothers. They’d seen him march them into the barn a half hour ago, and been on pins and needles ever since.

  “You don’t think he’ll be too hard on them, do you?” Samijo asked as she recalled seeing Calvin come flying out of the barn the day before.

  Ma looked up from her peeling. “Depends on how much arguing there is. Arlan slid into the role of their pa not long after we lost him. He’s tried to emulate him to his brothers, but decided he’d be better off dealing with them his own way.”

  “Which way is that?” Samijo asked. Before Ma could answer, the back door opened. Three young men trudged into the kitchen and stood around the table. “Oh my goodness …” she whispered as she took in their faces.

  Calvin’s left eye was swelling shut. Benjamin’s jaw was red and bruising, and Daniel looked like his nose had been bleeding. Arlan came through the door, his face stern. Samijo stood up. “Arlan Weaver! What have you done?”

  His brow puckered. “What have I done? Nothing.”

  “But look at them!” she said with a sweep of her hand indicating his brothers. “Is this how you solve a problem? By beating them to death?”

  Arlan stared at her, dumbfounded. “What’s got you so riled up? For your information, I didn’t lay a hand on them. They did it to themselves trying to figure out whose fault it was for spooking my team of horses yesterday, and this,” he said as he pointed to his forehead.

  “What?” his mother asked. She looked at her other three sons. “That must have been quite a disagreement.”

  Benjamin, Calvin and Daniel, looked at anything in the room but their mother. Even Samijo was preferable to any possible storm that could erupt out of the tiny woman on the other side of the table. Benjamin shifted his weight from one foot to the other and cleared his throat. “We’re sorry ma’am, er … Samantha, uh … I mean Samijo.” he glanced to Arlan, who folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “We all knew what Calvin done. Was me that gave him the slingshot to … do the deed.”

  Daniel stepped forward. “I’m sorry too. It was my idea. He was supposed to hit Arlan, not the horse.”

  Samijo’s mouth hung open at this point.

  “I promise to practice,” Calvin said. “So I won’t miss next time.”

  Arlan groaned at his brother’s words, then fingered the lump on his head and winced.

  “Calvin!” their mother cried. “You’ll do no such thing!”

  Samijo stared at him. “Practice?” she said in disbelief. “You could have got us killed.”

  “He didn’t mean it,” Arlan added. “Did you, Calvin?”

  Calvin swallowed hard. “Er … I guess I didn’t …” He backed away from the table and headed for the door. “I gotta go wash up.” Benjamin and Daniel took the cue, and quickly followed. The three filed out the door and disappeared. Samijo sat. “How’s your head?”

  “I’ll live. And you? How are you doing?”

  “I’m … fine.”

  “You wouldn’t be lying to me now, would you?”

  Ma glanced between the two of them. “Go wash up, Arlan. We’ll have lunch ready real soon.”

  He hesitated, and looked at his wife. “They’ll get better, I promise. Remember, you married me, not them.”

  Samijo stared after him as he left, the kitchen door slamming behind him as he did. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Land sakes no. “He’s upset because he thinks you are. Arlan tries to keep everybody happy. But he’ll be concentrating on you now that he’s married.” She reached across the table and put a hand over Samijo’s. “You have every right to be angry and I wouldn’t blame you. But Arlan’s right, you married him, not my other three boys. I’ll see to it they behave themselves and keep out of mischief. It’ll be good for them to watch you and Arlan, maybe then Benjamin and Calvin will start to get a hankering for a wife.”

  “How old are the twins?”

  “Oh let me see, they’ll be twenty four this summer. High time for them to be thinking about settling down soon.”

  “And Daniel?”

  Ma smiled. “My little Daniel turned nineteen about a month ago.”

  “You have very handsome boys. Any girl would think so. But if they keep acting the way they do, I don’t see those same girls wanting to marry them.”

  Ma pressed her lips together as if to keep from speaking.

  “I’m sorry, I did not mean to speak out of turn.”

  “No, you’re right. But you stop worrying about them and worry about the one you’re married to.”

  Samijo smiled and nodded, then noticed Ma was blushing. “What is it?”

  “I’ll tell you a little secret about my oldest son.”

  Samijo leaned forward.

  “He’s a hopeless romantic,” Ma said with a giggle. “Oh you wouldn’t think to look at him, but he is.”

  Samijo recalled her and Arlan’s passion-filled morning … and the kiss that never was. She sighed. “I’m looking forward to … experiencing that side of him.”

  “Oh you will, mark my words! It’s always been said around these parts, ‘lucky the girl that lands Arlan Weaver!’ and you have.”

  She smiled again, but it faded as thoughts of Olivia Bridger entered her mind. Now why would she think of her? But thinking of Olivia made her think of all the women out there like her, and how badly they must have wanted to find themselves on the arm of Arlan. Yet circumstances and location kept the man from marrying, until now that is. What woman would want to live so far from any social contacts? Perhaps a better question would be: what woman would put up with Arlan’s brothers?

  Samijo brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and picked up another potato.

  * * *

  Lunch came and went, and conversation was more than a little subdued, it was non-existent. Arlan’s brothers filed back into the kitchen to eat
as if they were going to a hanging: their own, and Samijo had to wonder. What would it take to get them ready to settle down and marry? Maybe all three should be tossed down the well! But perhaps the brother’s new found silence was a good sign, and they were pondering whatever words Arlan used to bend their ears in the barn earlier.

  Samijo and Ma spent the afternoon sewing, (correction - Ma spent the afternoon sewing - Samijo spent it pricking her fingers with a needle attempting to sew.) and soon it was time to prepare supper. The women fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and prepared some vegetables Ma had Samijo fetch from the root cellar. Cooking made Samijo feel happy, it was the one thing she knew she was good at.

  This time when the men came in, they were in a better mood, and the talk became animated during the meal as the brothers warmed up to Samijo.

  “Did Arlan tell you about the time he fell of a cliff and almost broke his leg?” Calvin asked her with delight.

  Samijo almost choked on her coffee. “No! My goodness, what happened?”

  “He was chasing a calf that wandered off, but he was chasing it on foot,” Benjamin explained.

  Arlan rolled his eyes and made a funny face. Samijo knew this story was going to be good.

  “There’s some cliffs a few miles from here, the calf, its mama, and a few other strays wandered over there, anyway, Arlan figures he’ll sneak up on it and drag it back with a rope around its neck.

  “I don’t know much about cows,” Samijo said, “but that doesn’t sound very smart.”

  “It wasn’t. Mainly because it wasn’t a calf I roped.” Arlan said flatly.