His Brother's Bride

by Nancy M Bell

  “Aye, well. I’ll do my best. Pete is almost positive the Munroes are planning on bringing him along.” George paused and sighed, a calloused hand rubbing at the stubble on his cheeks.

  “I do hope you will be able to attend…I mean it would be nice for you and your brother to be able to spend some time together and get a break from working all the time. Ivan, pull up here, please.” Annie put a hand over her brother’s and Molly ambled to a halt at the foot of the Miller’s lane.

  George jumped down and looked up at her, the last vestiges of the late afternoon sun highlighting his ruddy complexion. “I’ll do my best, miss.” He touched a finger to the grimy bill of his cap and hurried away before Annie could say anything more.

  “Here, give me the lines.” Annie wrested the reins away from her brother’s grip. “It’s not far now, no point in taking the chance of anyone seeing you driving. I can get in enough trouble without any help from you. Remember, you promised to keep your mouth shut about Miller’s help riding all the way into Eganville with us.”

  “Sure.” Ivan nodded, his expression non-committal.

  I’ll strangle him with my bare hands if he makes a peep. “Git along, Molly.”

  Chapter Three

  July 1st 1916 Dominion Day celebrations were a bit more subdued than previous years. The war to end all wars as H.G. Wells declared on August 14, 1914 was well into its second year of conflict. Luxury items were starting to become scarce. But in the small town of Eganville, Ontario on the Bonnechere River things weren’t as impacted as they were in larger centres.

  The harvest promised to be a bumper crop this year, so optimism was high. Annie shoved her hat pin deeper into the nest of her hair, hoping to keep the new straw hat from coming adrift. She was crammed in the bed of the buckboard with her brothers and sisters. Except for Hetty, of course. Riding with a gaggle of siblings was beneath Hetty Baldwin newly betrothed to Clarence Hiram. Dust rose from the well-travelled road, everyone from the surrounding countryside seemed to be headed into town. She leaned over the side of the wagon and peered ahead. Thank goodness, they were almost there. Once Father found a strategic place to park the buckboard, Annie planned to slip away into the crowd and avoid being saddled with her younger sibling. Rotha was two years older than her and could take her turn looking after the little heathen.

  On another note, Annie wanted to be out of earshot when Father clambered up onto the back of the wagon and began his hell fire and brimstone preaching. While she admired his convictions and his passion, it was more than a little embarrassing when he got so enraptured that spittle flew from his mouth. The wagon jolted to a halt and she hurried to disembark, being careful not to snag her full skirts on the heel of her new boots. She admired them for a moment before shaking her skirts down to cover all but the toe. It wouldn’t do for Mother to seize the opportunity to lecture her about vanity or showing her ankles.

  Giving her skirts one last shake to remove the dust, Annie twisted the strings of the small crocheted purse securely around her wrist. Hetty’s high clear voice preceded her appearance prompting Annie to slip between two groups of gossiping older women and make good her escape from family responsibility. She grinned while putting more space between herself and the wagon. Surely Hetty’s voice could cut glass, given the chance. Stifling a giggle she wriggled past the crowded doorway into Arlo’s General Store. With her small hoard of pennies she purchased some licorice whips and peppermint sticks. Not wishing to linger and be discovered by her siblings who were sure to be headed in this direction, Annie left the establishment as unobtrusively as possible. She paused on the boardwalk outside, deciding the best place to observe the official celebrations without peering around tall people and taller hats.

  “Annie…Miss Baldwin, how nice to see you.”

  The voice at her elbow set her heart racing. “My Lord, you near scared the life out of me,” she exclaimed. Pressing a hand to her chest, she smiled at young man. “It’s a pleasure to see you as well, Mister Richardson.”

  “I was looking for my brother. You haven’t seen George, have you?”

  Annie shook her head. “I just got here myself. Shall we see if we can find him in this crowd?”

  “If that’s what you would like,” Peter sounded a bit surprised but gallantly offered her his arm.

  “I think I would like that very much.” Annie tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

  The humid July air curled the tendrils of hair escaping from her hat where they stuck against her cheek. The new dress was becoming, but Lord it was hot. Even the backs of her knees were sweating under her lisle stockings. Annie took a deep breath, inhaling the mingled scents of food, hot humans, some of which didn’t seem to have bathed, dust and the acrid odour of horse manure. With her free hand she wiped her face with the silly scrap of lace Mother deemed was the only handkerchief a lady should be seen in possession of. She stuffed it back up her sleeve and allowed Peter to break a path for them through the throng.

  “George!” Peter shouted before turning to glance at her. “There he is.” He pointed where his brother stood perched atop a barrel to get a better view of the goings on. “George!”

  “Petey, I thought I’d never find you in this crowd. And Miss Baldwin, too! What a nice surprise.” George jumped down from his barrel. His spot being taken immediately by another youth. “We’d best get out of the way,” he remarked at the sound of the marching band approaching.

  Annie gathered her long skirts and stepped up onto the porch of the harness maker they were standing in front of. Conversation was quite impossible for a few moments, she was very aware of George as the crowd strained for a better look and jostled her against him. His hand caught her elbow to steady her, for a second she leaned into his solid strength. The fingers on her arm tightened, Annie glanced up to find his grey eyes looking down at her, a strange and oddly exciting expression on his face. Something fluttered in her belly, startled at the unfamiliar and vaguely frightening sensation, she pulled away and dropped her gaze.

  “Look the speeches are about to start.” Peter seemed oblivious to whatever it was that was happening between his brother and Annie. A fact she was eternally grateful for. Somehow, she wanted to keep it a secret, at least until she figured out exactly what she was feeling and what she was to do about it.

  Her feet were starting to hurt in the new button up boots. Annie would much preferred to wear her old comfortable ones, but Mother, supported by Hetty, declared it would never do for a Baldwin to appear at Dominion Day in anything less than perfect attire. Why didn’t Rotha ever speak up, she wondered. Or Alice? Both her sisters were older than her, but younger than Hetty. There were enough years between them that Rotha and Alice never bothered much with their younger sister. Maybe it was because as long as Mother and Hetty were picking on Annie, they weren’t paying any attention to Rotha and Alice.

  “Excuse me?” She turned to Peter who tugged on her sleeve.

  “I asked if you’d like to find some place cooler.”

  “Oh?” She peeked out of the corner of her eye at George, standing silent by her other side.

  “Unless you’d rather listen to the speeches?” Peter looked uncertain. “I was thinkin’ it would be cooler down by the river…”

  Annie glanced around, she spotted her tall brothers towering over the crowd. Mother and the girls wouldn’t be far from them. Ivan could be anywhere, the boy was always scampering off on his own, but he didn’t appear to be in her vicinity at the moment. Still, what would Mother say if word got back to her that her youngest daughter had gone off with two basically indentured servants? Father would take the belt to her, for sure. Annie settled her hat more firmly over her eyes to block the blistering heat of the sun and plucked at the high neck of her dress. The thought of stripping off the pinching shoes and itching stockings and plunging her aching feet into the cool water was more than tempting. Common sense warred with her rebellious side. Usually, aided by the fear of retribution, common sense won ou
t. But today…the heat was so oppressive the air had weight to it.

  “What do you say, Annie?” Peter broke into her contemplations. “Owww! What’d you do that for?” He scowled at his brother.

  “Mind your tongue, lad. It’s Miss Baldwin and well you know it.” George tweaked the younger boy’s ear.

  “Gerrof!” Peter swatted at him. “Sorry, miss,” he mumbled.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake! I’ve known you boys for years all this formality is silly. Call me Annie…both of you.”

  George shook his head, a crease of worry wrinkling his forehead. “Can’t, miss. Not where anyone can hear at least. Old man Miller be sure to remind me of my place in society. And Munroe would do worse by Petey.”

  Annie frowned, George made the word society sound like a cuss word. “Well, I’m not society.” She matched his tone and stamped her foot, immediately regretting it as the boot pinched her toes. “I insist you call me by my Christian name, at least when we’re not around anyone who’ll get us into trouble over it.”

  “C’mon, Georgie. What can it hurt?” Peter wheedled. “I ain’t afraid of Mister Munroe.”

  “You should be. He essentially owns you until you turn twenty-one, remember? That’s what they both say, so it must be true,” George reminded his brother.

  “That’s only until next April. I can stand it that long. What about you, you’re of age now, why don’t you just up and leave?” Peter demanded.

  “You know why,” George mumbled and picked at his thumb.

  Peter snorted and shook his head. “I can take care of myself. Don’t need you to hang around just for me.”

  Annie looked from one brother to the other. There was more going on behind the words but darned if she could figure out what it was. At any rate the conversation was somewhat unsettling, though she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was that making her feel that way. The speeches droned on in the background and her head was starting to ache from the heat. “I think going to the river sounds like a good idea.” She broke into the boys’ conversation.

  “Really?” Peter spun toward her. “You mean it? C’mon. Let’s go.”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” Annie replied firmly shoving thoughts of parental upset from her mind. She wriggled her way toward the back of the crowd and once the throng of bodies lessened she caught up with Peter who had bolted the moment he heard her approval of his plan. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled encouragement at George whose expression told her he was of two minds about the wisdom of their actions.

  Once they were free of the crowd the heat was marginally less although the faint breeze did little more than shift the humid air. Annie followed Peter along the beaten path through the bushes and trees lining the river bank. They came to a clearing where the path stuck out into the river. Peter was already sitting on the grassy hummocks shedding his shoes and stockings. He rolled the legs of his best pants up past his knees. Annie tried not to stare at the skinny shanks his actions revealed. She plunked down with a sigh of relief and struggled with the stiff button hooks of her new boots. George’s presence behind her set her heart jumping. Pulling the first boot off, she wriggled feeling back into her toes. Instruments of torture, that’s what the cursed things were, she decided. Being careful not to expose too much ankle she rolled the stocking down and shoved it into the boot by her side before tackling the other foot.

  Peter was already wading in the shallows at the river edge being careful not to venture into deeper water where the current was strong. Both feet now free, Annie dug her feet into the sandy soil of the bank, letting the coolness soothe the ache caused by the new boots. Her face heated uncomfortably when she caught George staring at her ankles below the hem of her skirts.

  She tossed her head and pulled the straw hat free of her straggling hair, setting it beside her on the grass. I don’t care, it’s too dratted hot to care about a friend seeing my ankles. Heavens some of the new styles actually leave the ankles bare on purpose. If only Mother wasn’t so caught in the past. Although to be fair, it’s probably Father more than her.

  “Are you coming in?” Peter held his hand out to her.

  “I believe I will.” She grasped his work roughened hand and let him pull her upright. Letting go and using both hands she gathered the full skirts and underskirts in both hands, keeping the hem just below her knees. Carefully, she stepped into the shallows, where the water ran clear and rippled over the sand. Peter kept a hand under her elbow until she was steady on her feet. “Oh my, this feels wonderful.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, long hair coming free of its knot and swishing down her back to brush her hips.

  “Aren’t you coming in, George?” She spoke without opening her eyes.

  “I thought I should keep watch, warn you if someone happens by.”

  “Don’t be silly. We aren’t doing any harm and anyways it’s too darn hot to care.”

  “Mister Baldwin wouldn’t see it that way, nor Mister Miller I imagine,” he replied.

  “A pox on them both,” Annie said airily. “They’ll be too busy listening to the speechifying, and Father will be itching to get up on the buckboard and preach fire and brimstone.”

  “Miss Baldwin!” George sounded indignant. “You shouldn’t speak of your father like that.”

  “It’s Annie, and it’s true. He’s never happier than when he’s off on a rant about our sins and how we’re all going to burn in hell. I figure if I’m gonna burn anyway, I might as well enjoy what I can before that happens.”

  “I don’t imagine you speak like that where your father can hear you.” His voice was stiff with disapproval.

  “Of course not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think it,” she replied tartly. “Stay on the bank and roast then if that’s what makes you happy.” Annie opened her eyes and stepped out farther into the river, letting the water ripple around her ankles.

  Peter stood knee deep in the river, sunlight turning his blonde hair to molten gold in the afternoon light. Sunlight the dappled the water with flickering shadows of the leaves that moved in the light breeze generated by the river current. Annie giggled as minnows nibbled at her toes darting shadows across the sunlit sandy bottom.

  “You know…” Peter looked downriver and then over her head at his older brother behind her on the bank. “There’s a row boat, just down there.” He pointed. “We could borrow it and go to the sinkhole by the caverns. It’s always cool in there…”

  “What caverns? I don’t think I’ve ever been there. How far is it?” Annie let the happiness of the afternoon carry her away.

  “A ways. They’re about five or six miles, I reckon. Not too far if we take the boat. C’mon, George. It’ll be fun.”

  Annie turned tipped her head back to look at the boy on the bank. “Can we? I’ve never seen the sink hole. It might be the same one Steve and Evan talk about when they think Father isn’t listening.”

  George looked over his shoulder before dropping unto his butt in the grass and peeling off his battered shoes and darned socks. Tying the laces together he slung them over his shoulder after stuffing his socks inside. “Let’s go then.” He jumped off the bank splashing Annie and Peter in the process.

  Peter whooped with excitement and went to untie the painter and drag the row boat to where Annie waited. She tossed her boots into the bottom of the boat and gripped the gunwale with one hand. One side of her dress slipped into the water, but Annie was beyond caring. Hang it, I’ll worry about it later. A squeak of surprise escaped her when strong arms lifted her and set her on the middle seat.

  “Thanks, George,” she managed to get out, although it sounded thin and breathless even to her.

  He grinned at her and then turned his attention to helping Peter turn the bow of the boat downstream. Annie gripped the sides as the vessel dipped beneath her when George and Peter clambered aboard. Peter took one of the oars and poled the small wooden boat into the current which took hold of it and propelled it d
own river. The motion produced a welcome cooling breeze that lifted Annie’s hair from her face and cooled her sun heated face. Too late she realized she’d left the straw hat in the shade of the river bank. Freckles, I’ll get freckles. Hetty’s always going on about freckles. What’s so bad about a few freckles? She twisted on the narrow seat to find George’s intense gaze fixed on her. Unable to resist, Annie gave him a brilliant smile and flicked water from her fingers at him.

  Surprisingly, he returned her smile and dipped the oar he held into the water to splash her. Giggling, Annie wiped the moisture from her face and turned her face back in the direction they were headed. Peter stood in the bow striking a pose like a ragged bow sprite, if indeed bow sprites had been male.

  “How will you know when we get there?” The freedom of coasting down the river on the current was so wonderful Annie would be content to just keep on going until they reached Renfrew.

  “Don’t worry, I know where it is. There’s a certain cliff where the limestone is a different colour, and there’s a huge waterfall.”

  “Waterfalls? We’re not taking this,” she indicated the little row boat with a wave of her hand, “down any waterfalls, are we?” Annie sat up straighter and gripped the gunwale with both hands. “We’re not goin’ down any falls, Miss…I mean Annie. Not if I have anything to say about it,” George assured her.

  His words comforted her, she trusted in his solid strength and steadiness. Peter was closer to her age and more inclined to take chances than his older brother. For a moment her thoughts turned to the war. It seemed almost sinful to be enjoying the summer sun and the beauty of the river, when in the trenches of France and Belgium soldiers were dying and bombs were falling with no regard for life in any form. If Steve and Evan had their way they’d have enlisted already, only the fact that Father insisted they could do more for the war effort by staying on the farm and producing food kept them at home.