by Lee Savino
She bid her father goodnight. Could she love Johnathan Shepherd? She didn't need to love a man to marry him, just get along with him. In fact, she thought it would be better to have a husband she didn't love—that way she wouldn't be distracted from God's work.
Yes, Mr. Johnathan Shepherd would do just fine for a spouse.
*****
She told her mother this the next morning. "I think he's a good choice. We'll both be focused on God's work. He's so tall and awkward, I'm sure I won't fall in love with him."
"Esther!" Her mother gasped. "How can you say such things about poor Mr. Shepherd?"
"Well, it's the truth."
"I think he's quite handsome," Mattie put in, and then blushed.
Rolling her eyes, Esther continued kneading the bread, waiting for her mother to speak again. There was something brewing in the squat matron's head.
"You could still marry Mr. Spencer," Mrs. Richardson finally burst out.
Esther laughed. True, the young Mainer had a nice surry, and would inherit his father's shop. But he didn't make her heart beat as fast as it had when she thought of Mr. Shepherd—Johnathan— taking her across the country, on an real adventure. The thought of staying in Maine and being a shopkeeper's wife paled in comparison.
When she explained this, her mother didn't take the news well.
"Esther," her mother wailed. "You, go west? You'd be taken by wolves, by Indians, by bandits!"
"And in that order," Mr. Richardson said from his place at the breakfast table, and Esther was certain her father was smiling behind the newspaper.
With ten younger children swarming around the house, and her mother talking about the marriageable men around town in a last effort to get Esther to change her mind, the slim blonde escaped to her favorite place.
In the apple orchard, she climbed an old gnarled tree and sat with her feet hanging over the branch, and her head in the clouds of white apple blossoms.
Could she really go through with it? Marry Mr. Shepherd? Here was her chance at adventure. Of course, he was the perfect choice, with his lanky body and angular face, there was no chance of her falling in love with him. She could concentrate on the missions. The only thing remained: would he take her?
She went through the reasons why she'd make a good wife, being careful to list her faults. She was vain, and sometimes outspoken. Still, many men in town wished to marry her, ever since she'd gone to seminary, grown three inches and lost her childish snub nose.
The sound of horse interrupted her thoughts and she peered through the branches. When she saw the tall man riding past the orchard, she almost fell out of the tree.
A blizzard of white petals swirled to the ground just as Johnathan Shepherd rode by. His horse jumped a little, and the rider steered closer to the tree, peering through the leaves.
"Miss Richardson?"
"Hello," she called down, as if it was normal to greet riders from a branch ten feet off the ground. "Lovely weather we're having. Would you like an apple?"
"No thank you." Mr. Shepherd dismounted, peering up at her, thick black brows pressed together with concern. "In fact, I should feel better if you came down from there."
Esther hesitated and leaned back so snowy branches obscured her visitor's face. She took inventory, she was in an old, faded dress, with her braided hair mussed from the climb. She'd forgotten a bonnet. It wasn't the best impression for her to make on a suitor.
"Miss Richardson?"
"I'm coming."
He'd positioned himself to help her. With his height, he could easily reach her branch, but she simply jumped to the ground, startling her suitor and his horse.
She staggered a little, and he was at her side, steadying her. "Are you all right?"
"Yes." She grimaced, her feet aching with the hard landing.
The sides of Johnathan's mouth quirked up, not quite a smile. "Quite an ingenious way to pick apples. But rather difficult on the end."
"Yes," she said, dusting off her skirts with an air of self-importance. "Next time I'll bring a ladder."
"May I escort you back to the house?"
"Of course." Inwardly she sighed. She'd learned to avoid private walks with potential suitors. Next would come the flirting, the fervent promises, and pleading for her hand in marriage, or, at the very least, prolonged begging for the chance at a kiss.
Instead, Dr. Shepherd stopped before the edge of the orchard, the house just in view but far enough away from some privacy. "Miss Richardson, if I may be blunt."
Esther smoothed her skirts and waited for the courting to begin.
"I hesitate to say this," he began, and she almost rolled her eyes. A proposal, or request for a kiss, so soon? But then he said, "Last night, at dinner...are you always so given to flirtation?"
Her mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"
"I'm sure you have a large number of suitors. But even I was surprised by your coquettish behavior. I didn't think to expect it from a woman of your intelligence."
She stepped backwards like she'd taken a blow. "I can't believe you would accuse me of such a thing," she sputtered. "I did not act in such a manner. In fact, I made certain to ignore you."
Again, his mouth drew up briefly into a grin, telling her that she'd given herself away.
"And isn't that a sign of flirtation?" he said, mock sternly. "Young women pay men no attention, knowing it will spur a suitor on."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, upset that he'd found out one of her sure fire tricks. She faced him, wishing she were a foot taller, or at least had a stump to stand on.
The man's brown eyes were mild. "Don't be angry, Miss Richardson. I did not mean to offend, only point out a reason why I am having second thoughts."
Esther felt a horrible rush of warmth come over her, and her cheeks colored with embarrassment.
The tall doctor continued. "At first, I thought it providential that we both wrote letters to the Board at the same time, and are so obviously well matched in our thinking...but I still hesitate to offer for you."
Esther felt her blush move over her whole body, spurred by rage. Who did he think he was? He should be begging for the chance to marry her.
"Why?" she cried. "Because I'm a woman and can't possibly have ambition? Because I don't look strong enough to brave the wilds? Do you think I'll throw up my hands and faint at the first sign of hardship?"
"No," he interrupted as soon as he could get a word in. "Because you are very beautiful."
Esther opened her mouth, and couldn't think of anything to say. She'd been struck speechless for the second time in her life, and again the cause was Mr. Shepherd.
"I'm sure you know how lovely you are. Anyone who looks on you must tell you, and most men would make it their first reason to ask for your hand."
"But not you. You seem quite intent on breaking the mold," Esther said coldly. She felt unsettled around this tall, intense stranger, who would court a woman based on a letter, then decide she wasn't good enough because she was too pretty.
"Of course I would love a wife as beautiful as you," he said, cocking his head and looking at her with kindness. Pity almost. She felt anger surge again.
"But I don't need one," Dr. Shepherd continued. "And the life I've chosen, I cannot have a wife who longs for grander things. I am a simple man. I want to serve, and be of use to God and man. I need a helpmate who will be by my side, thick and thin, during good times and bad. The board told me of you and showed me your letter. You talked about wanting to live a life of meaning, of wanting to answer the call to do good work."
Her heart was pounding faster than it ever had before, even faster than the time Mark Spencer had snuck her out of church to take a ride in his carriage at full speed.
"I understand, Mr. Shepherd. I want the same." She gulped hard, hoping he'd believe her. Suddenly her green dress, and all her plotting to wear gloves and the right bonnet seemed very silly. Since when did she care for such frivolous items? She'd never cared wh
at she wore at seminary; indeed, she'd barely looked in a mirror until she'd come home and all her suitors had swarmed her. Their compliments must have made her vain.
Her throat was very dry as she thought of how best to explain this to Mr. Shepherd, when they were interrupted by Mattie's shouting.
"Esther," her young sister called. Most of the young Richardsons had arranged themselves in the yard, where they could watch their older sister's courting.
Esther waved back at them and then looked up at Dr. Shepherd. "We should go in. Mother needs my help preparing dinner, and Father will want to speak to you."
Again, his smile crinkled his eyes, and he offered her his arm. After a moment, she took it, although she wasn't sure how she felt about being near him. No man had ever said such things to her—a strange mix of critique and compliment. In fact, in all her nineteen years, no one had criticized her so thoroughly at all.
Dr. Shepherd didn't seem perturbed by her silence. "I must say, it heartens me to see you in plain dress, working. Although, if we married, I will ask you to stop climbing trees. Or at least leaping out of them from such high branches. You might break your ankle and then where would we be?"
He smiled down at her, causing Esther's heart to flutter wildly. Confused, she watched him turn to greet her siblings.
It was a much less formal Mr. Shepherd who sat beside her at dinner. He made her mother laugh, and entertained her father with news from Boston, where he had studied, and Philadelphia, where he'd lived as a boy. When the dishes were being cleared, he asked if he might help Esther with the chore of washing them.
"No, you are a guest," Mrs. Richardson said in horror.
"But if all goes well, I will be family."
Unfortunately, her mother relented, and Esther found herself next to her tall suitor, who hummed cheerfully to himself as he rolled up his sleeves and started scrubbing out the biggest pot.
They were halfway done before he leaned down. "You're very quiet."
"Isn't that what you want?" Esther wiped down a plate as roughly as she could without breaking it. "A quiet wife who's plain and works all the time?"
He sighed. "I didn't mean to criticize. Time is short and we must speak honestly."
She handed him a clean plate for him to dry.
"Besides," he said. "When you are my wife, you will understand why I take you in hand and offer correction. As your husband, I will lead you, and it's my responsibility to help you become the best woman you can be. I intend to do that with firm discipline, as necessary."
Head spinning, she forced a laugh. "Of course, Mr. Shepherd. If I would be your wife, I would give you as little cause to discipline me as possible."
"It's a serious matter, Esther," he said, putting his hand on hers. Her heart skipped a beat at his touch, and at the use of her name. "We will be journeying together, and hard put upon. We need to act as one, and for you to follow my lead."
She stared up at him, confused. Was he telling her he wished to marry her?
"Do you understand?" His deep brown eyes were mesmerizing, and she had to shake herself out of her stupor.
"Of course." She pulled her hand away. "I would submit to you, and any suitable correction, though I'm sure there will be no cause for it."
"Good." His secret smile appeared again.
Esther fell silent again, her head swimming. He told her he wasn't sure of marrying her, then joined her in her chores. Like every other man before him, he told her she was beautiful, but he made a compliment almost into an insult. And now he spoke of marrying her as if it was a sure thing.
When the dishes were done, she bid him adieu in the parlor, with her mother and Mattie listening outside the door, she was sure.
"Dr. Shepherd, I thought on what you said. And I want you to know, I'm ready for adventure. All these pretty things—" she indicated the parlor, "mean nothing to me. I want to serve." She lifted her chin, standing as tall as she could to look him in the eye. "I can be a good wife to you. I promise."
"I'm sure you will be," he said, gazing down at her in a way that made her skin heat.
"Does that mean...you wish to have me?"
Again, the subtle smile. "I do. Will you let me ask your father for your hand?"
"Of course." She blushed. "He's in his study. Right that way."
With a full grin, Dr. Shepherd strode to the side room, hat in hand, leaving Esther to realize she'd just proposed to a man she'd met yesterday.
*****
Their wedding day came quickly, too slow for Esther and too soon for her mother.
On the dawn before the church, Esther climbed her tree and said good-bye to the orchard. The eldest child of ten, she found solitude precious. But she wasn't too surprised when she caught a glimpse of her tall intended, weaving his way to her tree.
"Morning, Dr. Shepherd," she called down.
He grinned up at her.
"You're the only bride I've met willing to climb a tree the morning of her wedding." He held out his arms, and she slid into them, telling her heart not to beat faster as he easily set her on the ground. "Do you remember what I told you about broken bones caused from climbing trees?"
"Of course," she said pertly, setting off for home.
Her fiancé fell easily into stride beside her. "You know, your father has given me a list of things to discipline you for. Apparently he's been keeping it since you came back from seminary and he thought you'd soon find a husband."
She held her breath. That would be quite a long list.
"I must say, Esther," he caught her hand, and faced her, "that as of now, the slate is clean. But if you insist on crossing me, I will not hesitate to take you in hand. God set the man to be the head of the household, and I take my duties very seriously."
"Of course," she said, leaning closer.
"So you are prepared to vow to obey me in all things?" he murmured.
That brought her up short.
"I suppose so. Within reason."
He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "I promise to always be reasonable."
Taking her hand, he pulled her along. It took a few moments for her to find her feet. The skin of her forehead burned where his lips had touched it.
*****
In keeping with the Richardson tradition, Esther's wedding dress was black to symbolize grief at parting from her family. Indeed, her mother cried so hard during the minister's speech, anyone watching would think the ceremony was a funeral.
Afterward, they all ate a great table in the orchard. Esther couldn't resist climbing up one last time to shake down white blossoms for her siblings, only coming down when her new husband approached, shaking his head.
Before alighting into the hired coach, Esther kissed her whole family, knowing it may well be the last time she ever saw them. Once settled beside her new husband, Esther leaned against the side of the coach with a sigh. Tonight they would travel to an inn, then onto Boston by train. From there another train to St. Louis, then a covered wagon all the way to the far side of the Kansas territory. It had all seemed so exciting when she wrote the letter to the Mission Board. Now, with her journey underway, the adventure seemed daunting.
"Tired, my dear?" Her new husband sat swaying across from her in his fine wedding suit. His shock of brown hair waved in the air, almost touching the roof of the coach.
Gulping down sudden tears, she nodded.
"Come here." He held out his hand and helped her across. Before she knew it, he'd thrown an arm around her and tucked her into his side. His other hand took out his handkerchief.
"I feel so silly," she sniffled. "I never cry."
"You're not silly at all. It's natural." He dabbed carefully at her face with the white cloth. "There. Good as new."
She gave him a watery smile. He tucked his kerchief into his pocket, then put his other arm around her. Sighing, she leaned against his chest, surprised at how good it felt to nestle close to his long body.
"Sleep now, Esther," he murmured, and she did, but
not before she felt his lips press a kiss onto her hair.
*****
She heard voices murmuring around her, and then cool night air on her face. Stirring, she realized she was in her new husband's arms and he was climbing unfamiliar stairs.
"Where are we?"
"Almost to bed. You slept all the way here."
He carried her all the way to the room and laid her on the bed.
"I'll be back," he told her, before leaving her alone on her marriage bed.
She yawned and stretched, feeling more awake after her long nap.
Her stomach rumbled and she was grateful when her husband came back into the room with a pitcher of water and a cloth wrapped around some bread and cheese. They'd arrived too late for dinner at the inn, but Esther tore into the coarse loaf like it was a fine feast.
From the corner, her husband chuckled, removing his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.
"What are you doing?" Esther asked with alarm, just as he pulled off his shirt. The lamplight molded to his taut chest and muscular arms. She'd never suspected his stiff, dark clothes hid such a fine, strong body; no wonder he hadn't any trouble carrying her.
He turned in surprise. "Undressing for bed."
"You mean to sleep here?" She sat up straight, her mouth suddenly dry. Of course they would be sharing a room. They were married now.
A smile played around his lips. "Shy, wife?"
"No." She slid off the bed, tossing her hair back proudly. "But I require privacy when I'm undressing."
"Very well." He still looked amused. "I had them carry your trunk into the luggage room. Tomorrow morning we must go through your things and choose the items for you to take."
"What?" She thought of her full trunk, every choice agonized over by her with her sister and mother.
"I'm sorry, Esther. I should've told you before you packed. The wagon West charges by the pound. You're better off reducing your things now, while I can send the trunk back to your parents."