by Kit Morgan
“Yes, but you’re getting married,” Rose said. “That’s a happy occasion … well, at least it’s supposed to be.”
“If I’m getting married. But I suppose it’s all in how you look at it. I just didn’t think it would be so … so …”
“Complex?” Rose and Charlotte said in unison.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Well, welcome to Nowhere,” Charlotte said with a sigh and began to serve up their tea. “And at least things are likely to get better.”
Lord help me if they don’t, Bernice thought.
Four
Warren didn’t realize he was gawking at Deputy Tom Turner until Spencer nudged him in the ribs. “What’s the matter with you? Other than the obvious.”
He shut his mouth. He had visions of himself holding a baby, his baby – and had actually felt his heart warm at the thought! “I still don’t know what to do ...”
Tom leaned against the desk and blew on his daughter Hannah’s cheek, making her laugh. “There’s my little sweetheart,” he cooed. He then looked at Warren. “I say ya marry the girl. It’s what she came here for, ain’t it?”
“Yes, but I didn’t plan on marrying so soon after I got home.”
“Gotta marry sometime,” Tom replied.
Warren knew he shouldn’t have let Spencer drag him back to the sheriff’s office, but when he’d been left alone at Hank’s, he’d needed to vent to someone. Unfortunately, he now faced two men bent on seeing him recite wedding vows. “It’s not that she isn’t pretty – she is. It’s … it’s just too early.”
“What makes it too early?” Tom drawled. “I hadn’t planned on marryin’ Rose when I did – heck, I thought I was marryin’ Charlotte! But it turned out fine. Ain’t that right, little pumpkin?”
Hannah gurgled in the affirmative.
“Look, I’m glad everything turned out for you,” Warren told him. “But marriage doesn’t fit into my plans right now.”
“Plans?” Spencer said. “What plans?”
“The farm. I’m ready to use all I learned in college and get the place running up to its peak potential. That’s going to take a lot of my time – time I won’t be able to give a wife. Once everything’s rolling along, then I can think about getting married.”
Spencer laughed. “I had the same sort of thoughts before I became a lawman – not that I even expected that to happen. But look at me now – I have a wife and a child on the way, and things couldn’t be better. I’m glad my life took that turn. Elle is everything I could ever want and she’s going to make a great mother.”
Warren sighed. “I’m happy for you too, Spencer. But marriage just doesn’t fit into my life right now.”
“Fit in?” Tom chuckled. “Ya tellin’ us ya got yer whole life planned out? Who does that?”
“I don’t know,” Spencer said. “Matthew Quinn, maybe.”
“Yes, but we all know Charlotte Davis was part of his plan,” Tom commented.
“Well, I for one don’t like my plans interrupted,” Warren said. “And even though everything turned out fine for all of you, and for Matthew and Charlotte, there’s no guarantee things would turn out for me if I marry this girl. Besides, have you seen her? I doubt she could even lift a wheelbarrow. What is she going to do come harvest time?”
“I guess the only way to find that out is to marry her,” Tom said with a smile.
Warren groaned. “No matter what you to say, I am not going to marry her.”
“Then why’s she still here?” Tom drawled with a grin.
“Because I haven’t had a chance to purchase the stage fare to send her back. That, and your mother has commandeered her,” he added in an aside to Spencer.
“Oh yes, my mother. You’re lucky you’re not at the preachers now.”
“That’s Mrs. Riley for ya,” Tom said. “She likes her weddin’ plans. Warren, I figger you got a week at the outside ‘fore yer hitched.”
“Deputy Turner, you are not helping,” Warren sighed.
Tom laughed, then kissed Hannah on the forehead. “All I can say is, ya don’t know what yer missin’ ‘til ya try it.”
“Well, I don’t want to try it!” Warren stated firmly. He spun on his heel and left the sheriff’s office. Once outside, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Some help they were,” he muttered as he jumped off the boardwalk and strode to his wagon. He briefly wondered where Miss Caulder had gotten off to. By now Clayton was probably driving his future bride home ...
… future bride?! Where had that thought come from? The only way she could be a future bride is if he was thinking of marrying her, and he most certainly wasn’t. A small part of him was telling him to do it, for Grandpa’s sake. After all, his grandfather had said he wanted to see Warren married before he left this earth. But he couldn’t get married just to please his grandfather.
“Why, Warren Johnson,” a voice brayed behind him. “Wherever is your bride?”
Warren fought a groan. He didn’t feel like putting up with Nellie Davis right now – or, preferably, ever – but what choice did he have? “She’s probably at the Riley farm by now.”
“The Riley farm? Yes, she would need place to stay if you’re not going to marry her right away. I’ll have to make a trip out there and see what help Leona needs.”
“Don’t bother, Mrs. Davis,” he said without thinking as he turned.
“What do you mean, don’t bother?”
Oops! “I mean … I mean Miss Caulder is probably tired from her long journey. I’m sure she’ll want to rest, and she can’t very well do that with visitors.”
“Who said I’d be visiting your bride? It’s Leona I’d want to see! I’m sure she’ll need help with all the wedding details. I think it’s a fine thing you’re taking a bride, by the way – after all, you’re going to need help with the place now that you’ve come back to take it over.”
Warren stared at her a moment. “Help?” The word was barely audible. Had he actually spoken it?
He must’ve. “Of course – you can’t expect to run that spread by yourself, what with your grandpa getting on in years. A wife is just what you need!”
Warren stared at her. He did not need a wife. He was perfectly capable of handling everything on his own. If he needed the extra help, he could always hire some. And even if he had needed a wife, how much help would a woman like Bernice Caulder be?
“What’s the matter?” Mrs. Davis asked.
“Um … nothing. I’d best be getting home. Good day, Mrs. Davis.”
“Tell your grandfather hello for me and Mr. Davis, will you?”
“I’ll do that.” Without another word he headed for his wagon, hoping that he didn’t have to talk with anyone else on the way home. Besides, now that Nellie Davis knew, it would be all over town anyway.
He felt bad enough about sending the girl back, and disappointing Grandpa – but now he’d probably have to hear about it from everyone in Nowhere. Then when he did finally decide to marry, and there weren’t any eligible women in town (which would most likely be the case) he’d have little choice but to send away for a mail-order bride, and hope to Heaven the townsfolk didn’t mention what he’d done with the last one. A long shot, at best.
He climbed onto the wagon, released the brake and set off for home. He’d have to think about what to tell Grandpa when he came back empty-handed. But his grandfather couldn’t expect the girl to stay in the house with them. That would be entirely improper and only give Mrs. Davis something else to wag her tongue about.
He sighed as he drove. If he’d known what was going to happen when he got back to Nowhere, he likely would’ve stayed away.
* * *
“And this is Summer,” Mrs. Riley said, pointing to a pretty blonde who was sitting at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes. “She’s Clayton’s wife. And Elle over there is married to Spencer.”
Another blonde, Bernice noted, and smiled at them. “It’s so nice to meet both of you. I can’t thank you e
nough for allowing me to stay here.”
“This works perfectly,” Summer said. Bernice noted her Southern accent – Louisiana, maybe? “The Johnsons’ farm is right next to ours. All you have to do is cut across a couple of orchards and you’re there.”
“The orchards are so pretty,” Bernice said. “They look like they go on for miles.”
“Wait until you see them in the spring when the trees are blossoming,” Elle told her. It’s like it’s snowing when the wind kicks up.”
She had the same accent as Summer. “Where are the two of you from?” Bernice asked.
“New Orleans,” Summer told her. “We both came out here as mail-order brides, as our mother-in-law probably told you.”
“Yes, I did, but I didn’t tell her where you were from,” Mrs. Riley explained. “And I’m so glad they did! We’re one big happy family – and getting bigger all the time!”
Elle rubbed her growing belly. “That’s the truth – isn’t it, Summer?”
Summer blushed.
“Merciful heavens!” Mrs. Riley cried. She quickly looked this way and that, then hurried to the window to glance outside. Clayton was just coming back from the barn. “Summer, are you …?”
Summer nodded. “I’m pretty sure I am.”
Mrs. Riley clapped her hands together, tears in her eyes. “Another grandchild! The Lord be praised!” She grabbed Summer in a fierce hug. “Oh, you girls have made me the happiest woman in the world!”
“I hope it makes Clayton as happy,” Summer said.
“Oh my dear,” Mrs. Riley replied, “don’t you worry about him! He’ll be happy as a lark when he finds out! Personally, I think he’s been jealous of Spencer and Elle.”
Summer smiled, then looked at her sister-in-law. “It’ll be nice raising our kids together, won’t it?”
“It sure will,” Elle said.
“Now hush, girls,” Mrs. Riley whispered, “here he comes.”
No sooner had she said it than the kitchen door opened and in walked Clayton. “I see you’ve met everyone, Miss Caulder?”
Bernice smiled and hoped she wasn’t blushing. “Yes, I have. You have a wonderful family, Mr. Riley.”
He glanced at each, his eyes fixating on Summer. “I rather think so.”
“Well, now that we’re all here, what say we get you settled?” Mrs. Riley told Bernice. “You’ll have to give us some time to get a room ready.”
“We could fix up the office,” Elle suggested.
“Exactly what I was thinking!” Mrs. Riley turned to Bernice. “We used it as a guest room when Summer first arrived here, and then Elle.”
“You two didn’t get married right away?” Bernice asked.
“Neither one of us did,” Summer said. “In fact, I think it was a couple of weeks before Clayton and I married.”
“It was about that long for Spencer and Elle too,” Clayton added.
Bernice bit her lower lip as a pang of disappointment beat in her chest. But she couldn’t very well stay at the Johnson farm – not alone in a house with two men. She understood the impropriety of it, yet wished for the luxury of seeing her intended each day in order to get to know him.
Provided he was, in fact, still her intended …
“Come along, girls!” Mrs. Riley said as she headed out into the hallway. “Let’s get Miss Caulder’s room ready, then we can start on supper!”
Bernice suddenly felt nervous. She hoped they didn’t ask her to cook anything. She’d never really done much cooking, just a little baking here and there. But she was sure she could learn – maybe the Riley women could teach her a few things during her short time there.
Or would it be a long time? And short or long, would it end with her being Mrs. Bernice Johnson, or being back in Oregon?
She felt as if she were standing on a precipice and one good shove would put her on the stage to Independence. After she’d discovered her mother’s hidden greed, she didn’t want to go back. But if not Independence, where? Oh please, Lord, she thought as she followed the other women into the office. I have to get married!
“Elle, can you help me … oh, never mind, not in your condition,” Mrs. Riley said. She turned to Summer. “Oh dear, better not have you help me either. Miss Caulder, I hate to impose, but could you help me move this desk, dear?”
Bernice nodded and took one end of a desk that was against a wall and helped Mrs. Riley move it over by the window. “I take it you have a spare bed hidden somewhere?”
“Yes, dear, we do! I’ll have Clayton and Spencer set it up – they’ll have to bring it down from the attic.”
“I hate being such a bother,” Bernice said. “That sounds like a lot of work.”
“Oh, it’s no bother at all, dear! They’re big boys and it’s a small bed. You’re such a tiny thing, it’ll fit you perfectly!”
“Better than it did me,” Summer said with a laugh. “My feet hung over the end of the mattress.”
“It’s a good thing I left the dresser in here,” Mrs. Riley said as she glanced around the room. “You can at least unpack your things until the men get the bed set up. While you’re doing that, Summer and Elle can help me get supper ready. You’ll join us when you’re done, all right?”
Bernice nodded. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here. I promise not to be in the way.”
“My dear sweet girl,” Mrs. Riley said with a warm smile. “You won’t be in the way at all! Besides, I suspect you’ll be spending a lot of time over at the Johnson farm anyway.”
“I hope so,” Bernice said. She didn’t feel – or sound – very confident.
Mrs. Riley drew her into her arms for a hug. “Now don’t you worry, dear, every little thing is going to turn out fine. Why, before you know it we’ll have your wedding dress done and everything arranged. My, but you’re going to make a lovely bride. It’s too bad your family couldn’t be here for the wedding, but that’s the way it goes for mail-order brides, I suppose.”
Bernice cringed at the mention of her family. Even if she were to marry in Independence, she wondered if she’d be able to stomach having her mother attend her wedding. But then maybe she and her mother would be getting along again. After all, if she ended up back in Independence, it could be years before she found a man to wed ...
Five
As luck would have it, when it came time to help out with supper, Summer gave Bernice the simplest job: slicing up the already-peeled potatoes. Happy to be doing something – and even happier that it didn’t involve actual cooking – Bernice sat and went to work. She wondered what it would be like to do this for her husband: cook for him (once she learned how), mend his clothes, darn his socks, do his laundry ...
Just how hard was an apple farmer on his clothes? She supposed she’d find out while staying with the Rileys – Clayton did a lot of work himself. But according to Mrs. Riley, he also brought in extra help when he needed it, and at harvest time everyone pitched in. She made it sound like a grand time.
She also told Bernice about the harvest festival Nowhere had each year as well as several other annual events, including a Valentine’s dance. “We just started a Valentine’s dance in Independence this year,” Bernice replied.
“Oh, lovely!” Mrs. Riley commented. “We’ve been having ours for years. Same with the harvest festival, and we do something at Christmastime as well. You’re going to love it here!”
Bernice tried to ignore the cold feeling in her belly. If I stay long enough to find out, she thought to herself. No, she couldn’t allow herself to think like that! What would Professor Hamilton and Mr. Winters say to her if they saw her despairing so? Probably scold her for having such a negative attitude. But how could she not after what Warren Johnson had said in town? He hadn’t even known she was coming. She had no guarantees …
“Bernice, are you done with the potatoes?” Elle asked.
“Oh, excuse me?” Bernice said as she looked up. “Almost.”
“Woolgathering?” Summer inquired. “Do
n’t worry – I did a lot of that before I was married.”
“Did you think about your dress a lot?” Bernice asked, curious if she struggled with the same line of thinking she was.
“No, I thought about how Clayton was going to pack me up on a stage and send me back to New Orleans. I about drove myself buggy with the thought.”
“Bernice sat up. “You did? What happened? Or rather, what did he do that made you think that?” Bernice wanted – no, needed – to hear this. Maybe it would make her feel better about Warren Johnson.
“It’s a funny story. Now – I didn’t find it amusing at the time.”
“Especially when Clayton shot her in the foot,” Elle said with a smile.
“What?” Bernice gasped. “He shot you?”
Summer sighed in recollection and nodded. “The moment we first met.”
“Good heavens!” Bernice said as she stood. She brought the bowl of diced potatoes to the stove and handed them to Elle. “Why would he do that?!”
“It was an accident,” Summer told her. “But had he not shot me, I suppose he might have sent me back. Because of my injury, I was forced to stay.”
“Clayton carried her everywhere,” Mrs. Riley said with a dreamy smile. “It was very romantic in its own way.”
Bernice’s eyes lit up. “He carried you?”
“He had to – I couldn’t walk. But when I got to the point where I could get around on crutches, he told me he missed carrying me from room to room.”
“My, that is romantic,” Bernice sighed.
“Suffice to say, it gave us some time to get to know one another and start to fall in love. But the first few days after being shot were torture. I was convinced he was going to ship me back even though I was injured. He even came to Doc Brown’s house where I was staying, plucked me up and carried me to the stage stop. I made a complete fool of myself until I saw his wagon parked behind it and found out he was taking me home with him.”
“I wish I’d been there to see that,” Elle said with a grin.
“I’m glad you weren’t.”