Mail Order Emma (Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies Book 26)

by Linda Baten Johnson

  “Amos, let’s explore our new home.” A row of buildings faced the street to her right, and in the distance, a white steeple speared the bright blue sky. If Mr. Walker wasn’t in the blacksmith shop, she’d go to the church. After all, the Goodly pastor and his wife initiated the correspondence with Mr. Walker.

  “Hello?” Emma spoke into the dimness. “I’m looking for Mr. Joseph Walker.”

  She heard steps from the darkened area, then a young man with strawberry blond hair and an abundance of freckles moved into the light.

  “Mr. Walker’s not here today, I’m Eli Townsend, his apprentice. May I help you?”

  “My business is with Mr. Walker. Can you take me to his farm?” Emma kept her tone even, but the face of Eli Townsend blanched as he stared at her and the baby.

  “Mr. Walker isn’t at the farm today. Whole town is helping with a house raising. I came in to get more nails from the shop,” Eli said.

  “Could you take me to Mr. Walker’s farm before you return to the house raising? I will pay you for driving and the wagon’s cost. My trunks are at the station.” Emma watched his eyes grow wider.

  “I don’t know.” Eli gawked at the baby and the ring on her finger.

  “You don’t know if you can secure a wagon?”

  “No. I can take Hank’s wagon.” Eli appeared rooted to his spot. “But, is Joe expecting you?”

  Emma shook her head. “He is not. But the baby and I are dusty, exhausted, and in need of rest. Please do your Christian duty and take us to Mr. Walker’s place.” Emma saw no chair inside the room. “I’ll wait on the bench outside while you decide.”

  She regretted her tone with Eli, but Emma wanted to know her fate as soon as possible which meant confronting Mr. Walker.

  The young man closed the door, muttered he’d load the trunks, then be back for her.

  On the wagon ride, Amos cried loudly and incessantly about his need for food despite Emma’s attempts to soothe him.

  “This is Joe’s place,” Eli raised his voice to cover the infant’s wailing.

  "Eli, you've been kind, but may I impose a bit more? I must feed Amos."

  “Amos?” Eli’s one-word question invited explanation, but she vowed she would speak to Mr. Walker first.

  “Yes, his name is Amos.” Emma surveyed the wooden structure which showed an expansion on the right side and a porch added to the entire front. The place boasted a small garden plot, a chicken coop and pen, a barn, and a windmill with a tank for water. Mr. Walker described his homestead perfectly. She yearned to look at each part of the property, but Amos bellowed for food.

  “I’ll put the trunks on the porch. Want me to start a fire and bring in some water?” Eli waited for her to issue instructions.

  “Yes, please. And do you know if there is any milk available? I’ll have to boil some for the baby.”

  “Does he eat food?” Eli pointed to Amos.

  “He loves eating. I have some food in the smaller trunk. I’ll open a jar and mash it up for him. What time do you think Mr. Walker might arrive?”

  “They usually work until sunset on a house or barn raising,” Eli said.

  “Then I would love to bathe the baby and refresh myself.” Emma touched the baby’s nose. “But first, we’re going to get you something to eat. I think a fire first, then the milk.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Eli scurried to do the chores

  Emma placed Amos in the basket which was next to her belongings where he continued his howling. She rooted through the small trunk until she came up with a jar of peas and some applesauce.

  “Food is coming. Look at this.” She showed Amos the jars.

  The baby never noticed the food because he squeezed his eyes shut as he expressed his unhappiness.

  In the kitchen, the bowls were where she expected to find them as were the spoons. She opened the two jars, spooned applesauce and peas into separate bowls, then placed Amos on her knee. She tucked one of his arms behind her body, held the other with her left hand, and offered him food.

  His protests ceased as light does when you blow out a candle.

  ”He’s a loud one, isn’t he?” Eli’s comment reminded Emma of what Trouble said when she deposited Amos on Emma’s doorstep.

  "He is until he gets food."

  Eli looked from her to the baby as if trying to make up his mind about something. “Ma’am, milk’s on the counter, water’s in the bucket. Do you want me to bring in the bathing tub and start heating some water?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  If Mr. Walker wouldn’t be home until sunset, she could bathe, wash her hair, and cook a meal for Mr. Walker. Having supper on the table might make him more receptive to baby Amos.

  Chapter Four

  “Come work as my partner.” Joseph waved to Eli who replaced the younger Townsend boy in the late afternoon. “Big turnout. We’re going to finish early.”

  “How early?” Eli put on an apron with pouches for nails and a loop for a hammer.

  “Judge for yourself. Took me months to build my house. No neighbors to help when I claimed my homestead eight years ago. Couldn’t neglect the farming to work on it steady.”

  “Yep,” said Eli, “we get one or two new people almost every day. You heard from Miss York?”

  “Not a word. Promised myself I wouldn’t think about the woman until a month passed. Let’s tackle the roof.” Joseph started up the ladder.

  “Joseph, did you have any other women who wanted to get married, other than Miss York?”

  “Eli, you’re a little young to think about advertising for a bride, aren’t you?” Joseph whistled. “Come look at the view. You can see for miles. There’s my place, and...”

  Eli stepped on the bracing until he stood a section below Joseph who was on the peak.

  “Somebody’s in my house!” Joseph gazed at a woman with a baby on her hip arranging towels over a clothesline.

  “I know. Told her you’d be home after the house raising.” Eli swiped his brow and moved down a section.

  “Who? What’s going on?” Joseph looked down at the young man.

  “I don’t know. This woman came to the blacksmith shop demanding I take her to your house. She has a baby…and wore a wedding ring…and she knew a lot about you.” Eli couldn’t look at Joseph.

  “Eli, you know I’m not married.” Joseph climbed down, forcing Eli’s retreat.

  “Joe, you did go to Dallas a couple of weeks last spring.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t get married, and I think I’d know if I had a child.”

  “She’s making supper for you,” Eli said. “Won’t be ready yet, you could work a little longer.”

  Joseph untied his horse, swung into the saddle, and headed north. Instead of calming down as he rode, he became angrier at Eli and at the stranger who’d bamboozled her way into his home. On the prairie, squatters sometimes moved into existing houses and refused to leave. That would not happen to him. He’d worked years to carve out this place. Someone would leave, and it wouldn’t be him.

  The tall slender woman shaded her eyes with her hand as he slid off the horse.

  “I’m Joseph Walker, I own this place, and I expect you to be gone by sundown.”

  “I have nowhere to go. I believed my future was here, with you.” When she dropped the hand covering her face, he recognized the likeness to the photograph in his bureau.

  “Miss York?” Joseph stepped back. “You can’t be Miss York. I saw you from the roof. You have a baby.”

  “Yes.”

  As if to announce his existence, an infant began crying.

  Emma turned to go inside. “Mr. Walker, please listen to my story. Your letters told me you were a kind and compassionate man.”

  “And your letters never said anything about a baby. You told me you were a single woman who’d never been married.” He felt the blood rush to his face. “I’m respected in this community. My wife should be above reproach.”

  She went to the noisy child, and he h
eard her soft murmurs while the baby howled. Then quiet reigned. He couldn’t go in when she was feeding an infant. It wouldn’t be proper.

  Joseph thought the day when she hadn't arrived on the train was bad, but this day topped that one! He'd been deceived. She'd used the money he'd sent for his bride's travel, and now, she sat in his house with a baby while he paced outside.

  “Mr. Walker, won’t you come in?”

  “Since it’s my house, I think I will. Thanks for the invitation.” Joseph admonished himself to stay calm.

  The baby wasn’t at her breast, but sucking from a glass contraption with a rubber tip on it.

  “He’s very demanding when he’s hungry, but he eats almost anything I give him.”

  Joseph recognized love in her face as she fed the child. “Why aren’t you feeding him, well, why don’t you feed him the normal way?” Joseph got the words out in tongue-tied fashion.

  “I have no milk. The child isn’t mine.” She placed the baby on her shoulder and patted his back. “I owe you an explanation. But first, let me make you supper.”

  “I expect an explanation, but I take care of chores before I put my feet under the table.” Joseph wondered if he sounded too harsh. This woman, if she was his Emma, deserved a hearing with an open mind. “I’ll be a couple of hours.”

  He headed to the barn. Supper? What about tonight? If she stayed in the same house with him, gossip would travel faster than a jackrabbit. But then, it probably would anyway when folks realized his mail-order bride showed up with a baby.

  He grabbed a milking stool and a bucket. Cows he understood. The cow flicked him with her tail as if to remind him to pay attention to what he was doing. He could sleep up in the hayloft, but what difference would it make? If they both spent the night out here, the town wags would have their own opinion about where he slept.

  He thought about tomorrow and the next day. What was he going to do with her? He didn’t have enough money to send her back. And he wasn’t sure he wanted her to stay. Plenty of thinking time while he cleaned stalls, fed the animals, hoed the garden, and checked for eggs.

  He asked the ruling hen for her opinion. “Am I worried about Miss York’s reputation?”

  The hen flew straight at his face, squawking and flapping her wings.

  He ducked, throwing his arm up to protect himself. “You’re right. I’m worried about myself.”

  The hen ignored him, strutting and clucking back into the penned area with her other feathered friends. Joe looked at the sun, halfway down on the horizon. Maybe he’d put her in the wagon and take her to Pastor Sam and Matilda’s place. That was the answer, but it wouldn’t do any harm to try her cooking. He went to the tank to wipe the worst of the dirt off his hands and face. If she was worth her salt, she’d have warm water waiting for a proper wash.

  “Smells good,” Joe offered as he cleaned his boots on the metal scraper.

  “There’s warm water for washing. I’ll dish up.” She put the golden biscuits on a plate.

  He’d been eating food straight from the pans. If he married, he’d have to change his ways. He accepted a towel to dry his face and hands and noted she was almost as tall as he was. “I like biscuits.”

  Her smile showed nice even teeth. “I do, too. If you want to sit, I’ll serve your plate. We’re having eggs, beans, biscuits and some applesauce I brought with me.”

  Once she sat, he folded his hands and prayed. “God, thank you for this food, and give us wisdom.”

  They ate in silence. Sounds came from the clinking of silver on plates and chewing.

  “Mighty good,” he said.

  When she reached for their plates, Joe didn't know what to do. Should he help her? Matilda never let him lift a dish when he ate with Townsends, and his mama did everything.

  “Amos should sleep until about midnight.”

  “So you expect him to sleep here?” Joe’s comment came out sharper than he’d intended. “Miss Emma, sit down. I want to hear what you have to say for yourself.”

  She used the adjoining chair, not the one across the table from him, the very spot he’d dreamed his wife would sit.

  With her back straight and chin lifted, she looked him in the eye. “My letters to you were all the truth. I eagerly anticipated coming to Goodly and becoming your bride. Your letters won my heart. But as I said in my telegram, family obligations prevented a timely departure.”

  “Telegram didn’t give much information.”

  “I wanted to treat your traveling expense money frugally. I have a good bit to return to you.” She scooted her chair back as if to rise.

  He held up a hand. “Tell the story.”

  “Cholera struck the town where my sister and brother-in-law lived. Andrew, my brother-in-law, sent Heather and Amos away. Heather also died, but God spared Amos because my sister left him in a basket near the road with a letter to me.”

  “Kind of like Moses in his basket,” Joe felt himself warming to this woman.

  “I don’t think Moses was as demanding a baby as Amos.” Emma laughed. “A waif of a girl brought the babe to me. I doubted her story, so I had to satisfy myself that Andrew and Heather had died and the infant was my kin.”

  “And is the boy your sister’s child?” Joe marveled at the difficulty she must have faced with sorrow weighing down her heart.

  “My sister’s home was a three days’ journey away. I found Heather’s grave between her home and mine. Then I sought my brother-in-law. Cholera ravaged their hometown, but I met a survivor who confirmed Andrew’s death.” Her eyes filled as she looked toward where the infant slept. “Poor lamb, my sister would have been a wonderful mother, and he’ll get me instead.”

  That answered the story of the baby, but what about the wedding ring she’d showed Eli? Why had she asked the young man to escort her and the baby here? And this did not solve the problem of the two of them spending the night under the same roof.

  “I’ll understand if you don’t want me. You expected a bride and got a woman with a baby. I worked at a mercantile in Missouri. Perhaps I could find employment in town until I save enough for my fare back.”

  “Eli said you wore a wedding ring. How can I be sure the story about your sister is true? You could be running away from an unhappy marriage. I won’t be party to deceit.”

  “I put a ring on my finger so I didn’t have to explain having a baby with me. I was shocked by the way men and women treated a woman with a baby depending on whether they considered her married or unmarried.”

  Joe nodded. “You’ve given me a lot to digest. Your story sounds reasonable, but I’m not ready to head to the preacher. I think you should live somewhere else for a spell, beginning tonight.”

  “Then I’ll do these dishes and get Amos ready.” She rose and went to the sink.

  “I’ll get the team and a lantern. We’ll get your trunks tomorrow. I’ll take you to the pastor’s house tonight. They keep a spare room open for travelers.”

  “I’ll be out in a few minutes, Mr. Walker.” She spoke the words in the dishpan’s direction, not his.

  He harnessed the horses. This was the right thing to do, for both of them. Her story sounded true, but was it? He'd worked up to the idea of being a husband, but he didn't know about being a papa. And while he considered, he must protect her reputation and his. He led the team toward the porch where she waited in the moonlight, a baby in one arm and valise in her other hand.

  Her foot reached for the top step and missed. He watched in stunned disbelief as she fell. In one motion, she tossed the bag away and rolled instinctively to protect the baby before hitting the ground with a solid thud.

  What had he done?

  Chapter Five

  Emma blew out a breath to calm the pain. The baby's cries brought her back to the present, and she realized she was the reason for his distress. She loosened her tight grasp and tried to soothe him while checking his head, his face, his arms and legs.

  “Emma, are you hurt?” Joseph knelt by
her side.

  She tried to sit, but the pain in her shoulder caused her to wince. “I don’t think I can stand without assistance.”

  “Stay still. I’ll put the baby in the basket, then we’ll get you inside.” Joseph returned and grabbed the reins. “Better tie the horses. They’re gentle, but we don’t want you to get trampled tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, Joseph. I behaved carelessly. I know to watch my footing. There’s a saying about pride goeth before a fall.”

  “I take your joking as a good sign. I’m not a doctor, but on the prairie, you have to treat your friends and animals when they’re hurt. May I check on your arms and legs before we try to move you inside?”

  Emma waved her hand. “I’m fine. The fall surprised me. My bad foot didn’t support me.” She turned her face away, not wanting Joseph to see her humiliation.

  “Nothing to be embarrassed about, Miss York.” He took her arm and helped her to stand.

  “Ooh.” She collapsed against him. “I could manage with my walking stick.”

  “Consider me your crutch or perhaps your carriage.” He swept her into his arms, carried her past Amos, who voiced his displeasure about the sudden awakening, and placed her in the bed.

  Emma blinked. “This is your bedroom.”

  “The only bedroom. What’s to be done with the baby?”

  “His bottle is in the valise. I hope it didn’t break. Could you heat some milk and bring the bag? He’s a good sleeper as well as a good crier. If we fill his stomach, he should sleep again.”

  Joseph left her bedside and she heard movements in the kitchen, then he returned with the baby and the valise. “I put the milk on to heat. Thought you should find the bottle, didn’t want to go through your things.”

  She retrieved the glass container. “Oh, the milk should be warm, not hot. I learned about baby care helping my friend, but having an infant all the time is different.”

  “I’ve taken care of motherless calves. They bawl, but I could get away from them.” He held a pan beside her. “See what you think.”