MAIL ORDER BRIDE: Brides of Sawyerville - Box Set, Volume 1: Journeys to Sawyerville - Clean and Wholesome Western Romance (Sawyerville Brides Series)

by Debra Samms

  She closed her eyes for a moment, but then continued to look at William. He smiled at her and took one of her hands atop the table.

  "My wife's name was Sylvia," he said. "She, too, was a person of very good character and I was content with her. If she had not died, I would still be with her just as you would still be with Ted.

  "Yet – " He drew a deep breath. "Yet it is no insult to her memory to say that she was plain to look at. She knew as much, and never concerned herself with it. And now I find myself married to a young woman who is more beautiful than I ever could have hoped for. Should I turn away from you for that reason?"

  Molly covered her face with her hands. "But what sort of woman am I, to feel the way I do? Is it even decent? Shouldn't attraction of this sort grow over time?"

  She heard his chair scrape against the floor as he stood up. In a moment he had taken hold of her wrists and gently taken her hands away from her face. "Molly, I have no answers to such questions. I only know that you and I are fortunate indeed to have found such happiness in each other, especially after making a long-distance marriage. I think we should be appreciative of the joy we have now, for we know better than most how quickly it can be lost."

  Molly wiped a tear from her eye and then nodded. He kissed her on the forehead and then the two of them went back to eating their breakfast.

  When they were finished, William stood up again. "I must get my belt and hat before I go out," he said. "Please be ready in one hour. I will get a buckboard so that I can take you and the other two women, and their husbands, on a tour to show you the boundaries of the fort."

  "I'll be ready, William."

  He flashed her a quick smile and then walked up the stairs.

  Molly stood up and looked at the dishes on the table. She should put them away and clean her kitchen so that she would be ready to leave within an hour, and still come back to a clean home that evening.

  That would be the sensible thing to do. She stood looking at the table for a long moment – and then turned and hurried up the stairs.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Later that morning, a buckboard drawn by a pair of tall bay Army cavalry horses made its way past the row of officers' white duplexes. Molly rode in the front seat beside Captain Strong, with her friends Lydia and Abigail in the seat behind them. Riding horseback, one on either side of the buckboard, were Private Ross and Private Fisher.

  Molly had not failed to notice that all three men were armed with both knives and pistols. William had placed a rifle at his feet across the floor of the buckboard.

  To start with, William trotted the horses onto the parade ground right in the middle of the main buildings while the other two men cantered their mounts alongside. Molly saw barns and corrals, both for the fort's many horses and for its small herd of beef cattle, as well as several long low wooden buildings that were used as kitchens and dining halls and offices.

  The grounds were empty now, of course, with only a few enlisted men leading a few horses back and forth or sitting near the barns cleaning saddles and harness.

  "You women may go anywhere you like on the parade grounds," said William, "and into any of the buildings where you might have business." All three of them nodded.

  As they reached the end of the parade grounds, he took the team around behind the buildings and trotted them around the outer perimeter. "You can see that the forest, in places, comes very close to the fort itself," he said. "And so, therefore, dangerous creatures of all sorts can come close to the fort. There are grizzly bears in there. Mountain lions. And Indians. You are not, under any circumstances, to go into those woods unless you have permission from an officer and are accompanied by at least two armed men. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, Captain Strong," whispered Lydia and Abigail.

  "Yes, William," said Molly. She could see that he was right. The grassy open lands of the fort quickly gave way to the darkness and shadows of the thick pine and spruce and cedar forest, where the tall trees and heavy underbrush made it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction.

  She really had no wish to go in there and felt sure that the other two women didn't, either.

  The buckboard circled around the outside of the buildings and then drove across the roadway to the collection of tents where the enlisted men lived. "Molly, as an officer's wife you would have no reason to go here," he said. "In any event, should you find yourself with reason, you must go only with at least one of these women with you."

  She drew a deep breath, but nodded. William glanced sideways at her, and Molly raised her chin. "I will admit that it seems difficult," she said. "Before coming here, I never had any restrictions as to where I could and could not go."

  William halted the buckboard halfway past the enlisted men's encampment. The team fidgeted while Privates Ross and Fisher stood close beside them on their own horses.

  "Molly – I remember very well that in one of my letters to you, I said in no uncertain terms that I must have a wife who is biddable and never disobedient in matters of safety."

  "Yes. I remember."

  "Have you had a change of heart regarding my wishes?"

  There was only silence all around her. The buckboard moved a little as the horses shifted back and forth, but William ignored them. No one spoke a word.

  "No, Captain Strong. I have not."

  "You were living as a civilian back in Ohio, with nothing more hazardous around than dairy cows. Here, you are an officer's wife living on a United States Army post surrounded by increasingly hostile Indian tribes."

  She looked down. "I understand. I did not mean to question your judgment in these matters. I shall do as you say in matters of safety."

  "Good." He looked over his shoulder, and Molly stole a glance to see the two young women sitting wide-eyed and pale. They nodded vigorously, and William turned around and allowed the team of horses to trot on again.

  They turned to follow the river. "Of course, you will all remember this from yesterday," William said. "You three may walk along the riverbank when you wish, to take exercise or gather flowers. It is very open here, and as safe as anywhere."

  "And truly beautiful," said Molly quietly. She looked out at the low and barren hills across the wide tumbling river. "Quite rugged, and even primitive, when compared to Ohio, of course. But I do like it."

  William's face softened, and he smiled at her. "I am glad. If you do not disregard what you are told regarding your safety, I believe you might enjoy life here very much."

  "I am already enjoying it, Captain Strong." She looked off to the side, biting her lip to hide her little smile.

  They rolled past the site of the three weddings, which had already been returned to its former natural state of grass and wildflowers and butterflies, and approached the forest line once again. William halted the horses just outside the black shadows.

  "A short way within that forest," he said, "is Lapwai Creek. You cannot even see it from here, so thick are those stands of trees. But it's there. And so are the hiding places of things who would kill you on sight – or worse. The forest is a place of danger here. Never forget that."

  The women all nodded. William got the horses turned around and allowed them to walk alongside the river, which sparkled in the sunshine. Ross and Fisher jogged alongside them, remaining silent but grinning down at their blushing new brides.

  Then Molly sat up straight and placed her hand on William's arm. "What's that?"

  He did not react, but kept the horses walking calmly. "They've been up there for a while. Watching us."

  "So – you knew?"

  "Of course. We must always assume that we are being watched in this place. You three must do the same."

  "Molly," said Abigail, her voice shaking a little, "what are you talking about?"

  "There," Molly said, and pointed across the river to the hills just beyond it.

  Both girls caught their breath. Down in the low part of the hills, standing very still and watching them, were three m
en on horseback.

  But they were like no men Molly had ever seen. They seemed to be barechested in the cool spring day and wearing only leather breeches. Their hair was long and glossy black.

  "Those are Indians, aren't they?" asked Lydia, speaking up from behind them.

  "Yes, Mrs. Ross," William said, glancing back over his shoulder. "Nez Perce Indians. This fort is here because gold was discovered on their lands back in 1860. The U.S. Army was charged with keeping prospectors away from the Indians, but over the years it has gone the other way. Now we are forced to keep the Indians away from the prospectors."

  Molly turned to look at him. "It sounds as though you have some sympathy for these Indians."

  He set his jaw, still looking out at the three riders in the hills. "They lived here for many generations before white men came. But make no mistake: They are vicious fighters and have no sympathy for us."

  "Is there no hope for peace with them?" Molly asked.

  William shook his head. "Relations between the United States government and the Nez Perce Indians are very poor. There have been recent skirmishes. Settlers have been attacked on their farmsteads."

  She looked back across the river at the three men sitting on their horses. "I have never seen an Indian," she murmured. "All the tribes in Ohio were removed and sent away to the Indian Territories over thirty years ago."

  "Well, you've seen them now," said William. "Remember them well. And pray you never see them any closer than they are now."

  Molly did study them, this time noticing that though they were at some distance, it looked as though they used neither saddles nor bridles on their horses but only long strips of leather tied around the horse's lower jaw.

  And the horses themselves were even more unusual. "William – what sort of horses are those? I've never seen anything like them."

  "Palouse horses," he answered. "You'll only see them out here. Very fast, very tough. Wouldn't mind having one myself."

  All three of the small Indian horses appeared to be black, or perhaps dark bay, but had what looked for all the world like a white blanket thrown over their rumps and covered with dark spots. Yet it was not a blanket, but their own natural coloring. "Very strange," she murmured. "But beautiful. So unusual!"

  "And dangerous," William warned, starting the horses into a walk again. "These Indians, and their fast horses, are very dangerous. No matter how beautiful you may find something out here, Molly, you must never forget how very dangerous it truly is."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Over the next ten days, Molly and her two friends, Lydia Ross and Abigail Fisher, began their adjustment to life at Fort Lapwai and worked hard to settle into their routines – especially as newly married women.

  None of the three had known anything at all about the United States Army or living on post, but they were fast learning the routines – and the limitations. William's tour on their second day had impressed upon all three of them that following orders was as important for them as it was for all of the men, and their Indian sighting had only reinforced that.

  Molly asked for and received permission for her two friends to work for her in her home, and so the three women began spending all of their days together. Yet Molly had no wish to simply sit back and allow others to do all the work in her home.

  All three of them worked together to cook and clean and sew, and Molly saw to it that both Lydia and Abigail took hot food back to their husbands' tents each evening along with things like nicely repaired uniforms and newly darned socks. They even started work on three different quilts, one for each of them, collecting big stacks of every scrap of fabric they could find anywhere in the fort.

  Their days were hard-working but very pleasant, spent as they were in each other's company while their husbands were on duty.

  "I was so accustomed to having my mother live with me on the dairy farm in Ohio," said Molly, one afternoon. "And other farm wives were not far away. I always had help and companionship back there . . . and now, I cannot think of what life would be like if the two of you had not been here."

  She and Lydia and Abigail sat on the front porch of the white duplex to eat their midday meal. The weather was cool and beautiful, and they could sit and watch the activities of the men out on the parade ground and around the rest of the fort while they ate their beefsteaks and baked beans, along with cornbread and blackberry preserves.

  Molly felt like almost a mother figure to these girls, who were only nineteen years old to her twenty-six. And they were newly married while she was a widow with her second husband. But they all helped each other adjust to life on a frontier army post . . . and Molly quickly learned that as the wives of enlisted men, sleeping in the main encampment, her two friends heard much that she, an officer's wife, would not.

  "I am feeling a little better about being here now," said Abigail. "I think that what I learned first was that my husband is as much married to his work as he is to me."

  "Oh, yes," said Lydia with a laugh. "They are all married to the United States Army. At least, all of the enlisted men are."

  Molly laughed, too. "It is no different with the officers. Maybe even more so. I suppose it is the most difficult thing for us to adapt to."

  "I think we can agree on that," said Lydia. "This place, itself, is not so bad. We are surrounded by armed men who will keep us safe. There is plenty of good food and clean water and warm blankets."

  "And fresh air and beautiful countryside," said Abigail.

  "You have not said much about where you lived before," said Molly. "I know it was in Chicago, but that is all."

  The two girls looked at each other. "We lived in one of the worst tenements in Chicago," said Lydia. "The Matrimonial Times was our path to a new life. And we took it."

  "It is far better here than – than the way it was before, for Lydia and I," said Abigail. "My husband is a good and respectable man. I have no complaints at all."

  Molly nodded. "I have a fine husband and a modern home and good friends to share my days with," she said. "I have nothing to complain about, either. The conditions here are as comfortable as it was on an Ohio dairy farm, and in some ways better."

  All three of the young women looked at one another. "But there is one thing that's different here," whispered Abigail. "Isn't there?"

  Molly looked at her, and her apprehension began to rise. So, she was not the only one to feel it. "Yes," she said. "Yes. There is. Out here, there is a danger that hangs over all of our heads – over all of the men. All of our husbands."

  "You lost your first husband to an accident on your farm, didn't you, Molly?" asked Abigail. She tried to smile. "I am a city girl, but I know that every place has its own sort of danger – including a quiet farm."

  "That's right. It does," said Lydia. "In the city, there was crime and streetcars and disease."

  Molly nodded. "And in the country, it was accidents. That is what took my first husband."

  "But accidents and even streetcars – even disease – are not deliberately done," said Abigail. "Out here – out here – "

  "We have an enemy at our doorstep that would kill us all if they could. And kill our husbands." Molly tried to keep herself calm. "That is the difference here."

  All three of them were silent. There was only the sound of the birds singing in the distant forest, and the occasional calling or shouts from the men as they went about their daily tasks.

  "We are all married to soldiers now," said Lydia. "The city and the farm have their own dangers, but we have to cope with something that most wives do not: an enemy at our doorstep."

  "I try not to think of it," said Abigail. "I don't know what else to do."

  Molly nodded. "I don't know, either," she said. "I suppose that is the best thing to do: give our husbands all that they need to have a comfortable life, but do not think on the enemies that stalk them."

  "Perhaps we should just worry about our quilting," said Abigail. "I do love assembling the fabric and making the shapes and
patterns."

  Molly smiled. "I do, too. I think you're right, Abigail. We will try to think of other things, pleasanter things, and take each day as it comes." She put on a brave face as she picked up her empty plate and took it inside, even though the fear inside of her only grew with every step she took.

  Please, she prayed silently, as she walked to the kitchen, watch over my husband – over all of the soldiers here. Protect him from injury . . . protect him from death. I do not want to be alone again. Please, please, do not make me live alone again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Some three days later, just past dawn, Molly stood alone on the front porch of her home and watched as the day's patrol started up the parade ground. It was Captain Strong's day to lead the dozen men on horseback as they rode out along the river and through the hills, watching to see where the Indian tribes were and what they were doing.

  It was difficult not to be stirred by the sight of them. The men all sat so straight and tall in their saddles, and their sleek horses snorted and tossed their heads as they jogged along in the cool spring morning. The spurs and bridle bits jingled and the sabers rattled as they all moved past and then turned off onto the road at the end of the parade grounds.

  Molly started to lift her hand in a small wave, but thought better of it. She just stood still and watched them go. She could only trust that they would all come back – that William would come back. He always did. As Abigail had said, surely it was best to simply keep busy and not think of it. There was certainly more than enough work here to keep her and her two friends occupied.

  She drew a deep breath and walked back inside the house, determined to pass the day in useful activities and peaceful contemplation. If there was time, she'd write to her mother so that the letter could go out with the next train of supply wagons. It was hard to believe that she had not written even one letter yet, but the days and nights had passed in a whirlwind and she would have to catch up as she could.

  Letter writing would certainly be a calming thing to do. Perhaps later this afternoon, she could find the time.