by Kit Morgan
* * *
The next day Leora went into the church office with a horrible feeling of apprehension. She’d dreamed about Mr. Egan, who turned into Mrs. Rutherford, who turned into a two- headed beast that chased her all over creation spewing insults. She still hadn’t recovered.
“A letter came for you today,” Theron said as she entered.
“For me?” she said with a smile. Maybe it was from Lottie or one of the other girls!
“From someone named Judith – was that one of your roommates?” he asked and handed her the letter.
“Yes!” Leora took the letter and tore it open.
My dearest Leora,
I received your letter and am so happy to hear you are well. I’m writing you to let you know I’ve arrived in Wyoming. I sent Lottie, Alice, Beth and a few of our other friends the same news to let them know I am okay.
You can't imagine how things have gone for me. Hopefully when I write you next, I can give you more details. For now I can only tell you that upon arriving, I was told that my intended had passed away. Alice wasn’t the only one to reach her destination and get a shock! It’s one thing to discover your intended has found himself another bride, but to find your intended has died – well, I was devastated!
But not all was lost. I thankfully found a position as caregiver for a beautiful baby girl. It could be that I may have to marry the father, Mr. Montgomery, since I live at the house and he is single. He is a good man, responsible and very respectful, but it’s not right for me to continue to live in his house without being married. (What would your husband, a pastor, say about it?) His sister is pushing us to marry, and to be honest, I am not opposed.
Once I have more news, I will write you. Know that you are always in my thoughts.
With Love,
Judith Murphy
Leora folded the letter, took a deep breath and put it back into its envelope. “Good heavens.”
“What is it?” Theron asked.
“Judith … she went to Wyoming to be a mail-order bride. I think I told you that the other day.”
“Yes, you did. What does she say?”
Leora looked at him as her eyes misted. Here she was, worrying herself into a mischief over a sharp-tongued busybody, while Judith had to deal with … “She … her groom …”
“Leora, what’s wrong?” Theron got up and came around the desk, pulling her into a warm embrace. “Tell me.”
“She got to Wyoming and found out her groom was dead.”
“That’s terrible! Is she all right?”
Leora nodded. “Yes, but …” She rubbed her eyes with one hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“I should be wearing my spectacles. I keep forgetting.”
He pulled away and studied her. “You wear spectacles?”
“Only when my eyes are tired. Lottie has to wear hers all the time. Poor Judith.”
“I thought you said she was all right.”
“She found a position as a …” She glanced at the envelope in her hand. “… as a nanny of some sort. But she’s living in the man’s house and his sister insists they marry so there’s no talk of impropriety.”
“That does make sense.”
“It certainly isn’t what Judith intended when she reached Wyoming,” she whispered.
“What about you?” he asked. “What did you intend to find when you arrived?”
She looked up at him. “I … well … you.”
“Yes, but what about all the rest of it?”
“Oh, you mean Mrs. Rutherford.”
“Not just her, but everything else. The work, the social obligations you’ve made so far.”
She sighed and looked away.
He tucked a finger under her chin and made her look at him. “This is only the beginning. You haven’t accompanied me to visit the sick, the poor, the folks who can only dream of having a position such as your friend Judith.”
Leora felt herself shrink. Alice’s intended had found himself another sweetheart and married her, leaving Alice alone. Lucky for her she’d found someone right away. Judith wasn’t so lucky, but from the sounds of it, things would work out. “Why am I having such a hard time with things?” she asked. “My situation is nothing like my friends’ from the mill.”
Theron pulled her further into his embrace. “None of you are used to dealing with things outside the lives you led back in Lawrence. I can only imagine what some of them are going through.”
“I wonder if any of the other girls have a Mrs. Rutherford to contend with? If so, are they complaining like a ninny as I am?”
He kissed the top of her head. “You’re not a ninny. You’re just inexperienced, that’s all. The more you deal with people, the better you’ll get at handling ones like dear Mrs. Rutherford.”
Leora nodded. She really didn’t have anything to complain about. She’d arrived at her destination and married a handsome, kind, smart, wonderful man, as Lottie had. But how many women from Brown’s Textile Mill hadn’t? How many had been thrust into horrible situations? Alice and Judith were just two examples of how things could go awry. And she was worried about dealing with one cranky woman? “Well … I’d better tackle the corner and see what I can get done today,” she said absently.
Theron gazed into her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“What?”
“I said I’m glad you’re here. I believe the good Lord sent me just the woman I needed as my wife. Whether you’re able to deal with Mrs. Rutherford or not. I …”
“What?” she asked. Good heavens, was he going to say he was in love with her? She shivered at the thought. She’d been so busy the last few days lamenting the needs of others, she’d forgotten about the needs of the most important person in her life – her husband.
“Nothing,” he said and let her go. “See what you can get done, and if you like, I’ll help with the Christmas rehearsal later.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? You’d do that for me?”
“You’re my wife – of course I would. I’m supposed to protect you from evil dragons and such.”
Leora giggled. “She is a bit of a dragon, isn’t she? And me a reluctant knight.”
“Reluctant, perhaps – but willing to fight.”
She smiled. As much as she’d like him to be there for her, it was her responsibility to cope with the old biddy. Besides, if Alice and Judith could handle their situations, she could handle this. “No, I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “If I’m going to be the wife of a pastor, I’d better start learning the ropes, hadn’t I?”
He smiled. “Spoken like a true pastor’s wife. Just call me if you need reinforcements.”
She stepped out of his arms. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” She drew in a deep breath, turned and strode to the corner.
Ten
Leora watched everyone arrive for play practice. This time Mrs. Rutherford showed up early and sat in the back of the church, watching Leora like a hawk eyeing its prey. But today was the day Leora planned to stop being a little mouse and join the ranks of the predators. Were there any birds that attacked hawks? Eagles, maybe. She’d be an eagle.
Regardless of her plumage, she could not let Mrs. Rutherford continue to push her around. What sort of message would it send to the women who’d put their hopes in her? Even if she decided not to run for the presidency of the Ladies’ Society for Godly Living, they at least would know she could hold her own. Maybe that alone would make Mrs. Rutherford give up the position.
“I think we’re all here,” Mrs. Pleet said as she walked up the center aisle. “Shall we get started?”
“Yes, which scene were we going to practice first?” Leora asked as Mrs. Pleet pulled a piece of paper out of her reticule.
“The scene with the …”
“Am I too late?” a man suddenly called from the back of the church.
Leora and Mrs. Pleet looked up to see Frederick Short the
butcher trot up the church aisle toward them. “Why Frederick,” Mrs. Pleet said. “How nice to see you here.”
He pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and wiped his brow with it. “I got here as fast as I could – I didn’t want to be late.”
“We’re glad you could make it,” Leora said. She glanced at the paper in Mrs. Pleet’s hands. “Is there a part left for Mr. Short?”
“There are no more parts to be given out!” Mrs. Rutherford bellowed as she barreled up the center aisle. One would think she was on her way to put out a fire – by stomping it.
“Of course there are,” Mrs. Pleet stated diplomatically.
“None whatsoever!” Mrs. Rutherford said, standing her ground.
“Really?” Mrs. Pleet put a hand on her hip and glanced around, then said very loudly, “Who would like Mr. Short to take their part?” Much to Leora’s delight, seven hands shot up, with a few more joining them in seconds.
“There, you see?” Mrs. Pleet said with a smirk.
“I’d love to give my part to Mr. Short,” Mrs. Gaston declared. “I never wanted to play Joseph anyway.”
“Where are Mr. Peterson and Mr. Allen?” Mr. Short asked. “And the other men that usually participate?”
“We can’t help it if they decided not to be in the play this year,” Mrs. Rutherford snapped.
“Maybe if you’d seen to it that the announcements were posted like they usually are this time of year, they’d be here!” Mr. Short shot back.
Leora turned to Mrs. Rutherford, one eyebrow raised in question. “Were you in charge of that?” she asked innocently.
“So what if I was?” Mrs. Rutherford said in a huff.
“Did the announcements for the play get posted or not?” Leora asked firmly.
“They … well … can I help it if a bunch of slackers were responsible for getting it done?”
Leora’s other eyebrow came up, but she repressed a smile. Barely – Ophelia Rutherford had just stuck her leg in a trap. “Mrs. Rutherford, if you were in charge of that, you were responsible for getting it done. If it didn’t get done, you are responsible for that. So what was the problem?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Mrs. Rutherford snapped as she turned on her heel and stomped back down the aisle. But instead of retaking her seat in the back pew, she marched right out of the church.
Leora watched her go and shrugged. “Well, there goes the angel Gabriel. Were we rehearsing that scene today?”
Mrs. Pleet double-checked. “No, thankfully not. We can get by without Ophelia today.”
“If you ask me,” said Mr. Short, “I think Ophelia’s gone to lick her wounds in private.” He looked at Leora. “You just set her in her place.”
Leora stood with a strange sense of satisfaction. Thank heavens she hadn’t become as rude as Mrs. Rutherford herself. Instead she simply asked her questions and held the woman accountable. “Yes, I guess so.”
Mrs. Gaston came up and patted her on the back. “That was telling her, Mrs. Drake. Bravo.”
“I merely clarified things, that’s all,” Leora said with a tiny smile.
“Well, if that was clarifying, I can’t wait to see when you really put that woman in her place!” Mrs. Gaston exclaimed.
“I hope it never comes to that. I don’t want to end up treating anyone the way she treats people.”
Mrs. Gaston thought a moment. “Of course you’re right, it’s just that … I have to admit it was nice to see her get back some of what she likes to dish out.” She walked back to her pew.
“Shall we begin?” Mrs. Pleet asked.
“Yes, we’d better,” Leora said. “Mr. Short, you might want to see Mrs. Gaston about the script. Speaking of which, if she’s not going to play Joseph, then what will she do?”
“Mrs. Gaston usually works on costumes,” Mr. Short told her. “We use the same ones every year, but they always need sprucing up and patching.”
“Very well, then. Mrs. Gast … I’m sorry, I don’t know your first name …”
“It’s Cecilia, Mrs. Drake, and I’d be happy to take care of the costumes!”
Leora smiled. “Thank you, Cecilia – and I’m Leora if anyone’s curious.” She smiled at the rest of the group – and got a gratifying number of smiles back. Mrs. Oliver was positively beaming.
Mrs. Pleet, though, frowned. “I don’t understand why Ophelia cast the parts she did, then didn’t see to the posting of the announcements. She usually takes great pride in this play.”
“You have the same play every year?” Leora asked.
“Yes, we do, but that’s still no reason for her to be acting so strangely,” Mrs. Pleet said.
“Maybe she’s bored with the whole affair,” Mr. Short suggested.
“Bored?” Leora said. “So she decided to cast all women? That does seem odd, doesn’t it?”
“If you ask me, Ophelia is odd,” Mr. Short said. “But she really started acting funny when … um …”
When he didn’t finish, Leora’s brow furrowed. “When what?”
Mr. Short looked sheepishly at Mrs. Pleet before answering. “Well … when she found out Pastor Drake had a mail-order bride on the way. You, I mean.”
Leora exchanged a quick glance with Mrs. Pleet then asked. “But what does that have anything to do with Mrs. Rutherford?”
“I have no idea,” Mr. Short said. “Which validates my opinion that she’s ‘round the bend. Halfway, at least.”
Leora closed her eyes and shook her head. “Odd or no, she’s still Gabriel unless she’s decided she doesn’t want to be, in which case we’ll have to replace her.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Mrs. Pleet said. “She’ll be back, just as soon as she gets over being caught.”
Leora stared at the church doors a moment. “Has anyone ever tried to talk to the woman?”
“About what?” Mrs. Pleet asked. “Who would want to talk to her?”
“Exactly,” Leora said. “Does anyone ever sit down with her for tea?”
“You mean, like friends?” Mrs. Pleet asked in shock.
“I know people follow her around,” Leora said. “But are any of them really a friend to her?”
“They’re probably too afraid of her,” Mr. Short said, then looked over the rest of the group. The women in the pews were starting to fidget. “But enough about Mrs. Rutherford – let’s have rehearsal, shall we? I look forward to this all year!”
Leora smiled, nodded, then took the rehearsal notes from Mrs. Pleet. “Gather around, everyone,” she called. “It’s time for us to start.”
* * *
Theron stared at the infamous corner of his office and smiled. Leora was over half-done, and probably could’ve finished by now were she not taking her time just to be near him. But he enjoyed working with her, too, so he hardly minded. He would have to figure out a way to keep her in the office with him, at least part of the day, once that project was over. He just wasn’t sure how yet.
By now play practice should be over, and he hadn’t heard any screaming, yelling or other commotion to be alarmed about. Thank Heaven for that. Come to think of it, he’d heard laughter break out a few times, and once almost got up to see what was happening but decided against it. As long as everyone was having a good time, that was just fine with him.
A knock sounded at the door and Leora poked her head in. “Hello! Almost done?”
Theron stood and stretched. “I think it’s time to call it a day. How about you? Has everyone left?”
“Yes, except for Mr. Short and Mrs. Pleet. They’re talking in the sanctuary.” She stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. “I think he’s a bit sweet on her.”
“Oh, he’s more than sweet on her – he wants to court her.”
Leora smiled. “He does? That’s wonderful – I’m pretty sure she feels the same way.”
Theron went to the door, opened it a crack and peeked into the sanctuary. “Hmmm … I may be performing a wedding soo
n.”
Leora giggled and tried to look over his shoulder. “I think they make a lovely couple.”
“Did Mrs. Rutherford behave herself?” he asked as he watched.
“Well …”
Theron closed the door and turned to her. “What happened?”
Leora smiled. “Actually, she left before rehearsal got going.”
“Left? Why?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear it. But then again, no one really raised their voice …”
The suspense was killing him. “What happened?”
“From what I gather, Mrs. Rutherford failed to make sure the announcements for the play were posted.”
“She what?!”
“When I asked her if that’s what happened, she tried to claim she wasn’t responsible, but everyone agreed she was in charge of it. She got a little upset, but nothing too bad. It must be why she left.”
Theron walked over to his desk and leaned against it. “Strange. The announcements have always been posted. And I announced it after service one day.”
“Yes, I remember you told me. But you only made the announcement once. From the sounds of it, most people rely on the flyers posted around town. Mrs. Pleet told me they usually post them at the post office, the mercantile, Mr. Short’s butcher shop and the school, among other places.”
“That’s true. Perhaps it was simply an oversight.”
“Then why did she get so upset when I asked her about it?”
“Maybe because she can’t handle that she slipped. ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before stumbling’,” he quoted.
“A haughty spirit, she has. Well, I hope she shows up to the next play rehearsal. We need our Gabriel.”
“Did any of the men other than Mr. Short show up?”
“Not today, but he said he’d talk to Mr. Peterson and Mr. Allen. They’re regulars in the production, apparently.”
“That’s good to hear. I know they’d be disappointed otherwise. What’s for supper?”