6
“This is a joke,” Virgie Young shouted. “He doesn’t even know the woman! Do you see what kind of man he is, Judge? He’s marrying a complete stranger just to keep our grandchildren away from us . . . and . . . and he’s a murderer!”
“Madam,” Judge Carver said, “what I see before me is an honorable man who has lost a wife and does not want to lose his children. I see a grandmother who is so distraught with grief that she has wasted the court’s time with unfounded accusations.”
“But what about my daughter saying he was going to kill her?”
“Your daughter had just been delivered of a baby a few months earlier. I am certain other women have said such things about their husbands in similar circumstances.”
“But—”
“Stop it!” Richard put both hands on Virgie’s shoulders and gave her a shake. “None of this is going to bring Diantha back.”
“This court is adjourned,” Judge Carver said. “Whoever wishes to witness the marriage between these two people can reconvene in exactly five minutes.”
Millicent stomped over to where Hazel and Ingrid stood, but Joshua stepped in and blocked Ingrid from her view.
“What do you want, Millicent?” he said.
“This is ridiculous,” Millicent said. “You never met the girl until yesterday.”
“As the judge pointed out”—Joshua’s voice took on a dangerous-sounding edge—“you aren’t the first woman ignorant of what your hired girl has been doing.”
“Well, I know she hasn’t been seeing you!”
Several grouped around, watching and listening to this conversation.
“Would you like for me to describe the scene I saw yesterday in your living room, Mrs. Bowers?” Joshua drawled. “I am absolutely certain your friends here would love to know the method with which you discipline your help.”
“You wouldn’t.” Millicent’s voice was low and vicious.
“I would.” Joshua leaned in and lowered his voice. “If you ever try to hurt this woman again, in any way, you will answer to me. I promise you that you will not like my response.”
Millicent took a step backward. It was obvious that she had finally met her match.
Any doubts Ingrid might have had about this makeshift marriage dissolved as she watched her former mistress back into the crowd. Having a man who would stand up for her against an opponent as formidable as Millicent was worth every risk she was taking.
“There was a bundle of switches left on Josh’s porch last night,” Virgie yelled desperately from the front. “Everyone knows that’s a sign he’s not fit to be a father.”
“I didn’t tell a soul about that,” Joshua said, “including the children. Exactly how do you know about that, Virgie?”
“I . . . I . . .” Her eyes darted around the courtroom. “Somebody told me.”
“If anyone here had a hand in laying that bundle on my doorstep,” Joshua asked, “I’d take it kindly if you’d speak up.”
Not one person said a word.
“I told her not to do it, Josh,” Richard said. “But her and Almeida were set on making you think you were going to get a beating.”
“I kind of figured that,” Joshua said.
Ingrid had no earthly idea what she was supposed to do next. Was she supposed to just walk over to the judge and start saying her vows?
“Hello.” A sweet-faced young woman neatly dressed in a dove-gray dress came up to Ingrid. “My name is Susan Cain. My father preaches here in White Rock when he isn’t out circuit riding to other churches.”
“Hello.” Ingrid had no idea what circuit riding meant, but it must have been a good thing, because Susan sounded like she was proud of her father.
Without another word, Susan stood up on a chair and raised her voice until it carried over the crowd. “It is customary for a bride to have something borrowed upon her person on her wedding day.”
Ingrid wondered if George’s boots qualified.
Susan hopped down and pressed a lace hankie into Ingrid’s hand. “Please accept this handkerchief as something borrowed. You can return it next week when you and your new husband come to call. My mother and I will be expecting you.”
Ingrid marveled at how Susan took charge of the situation. The preacher’s daughter gave a meaningful look to all the other women clustered about. “I believe it is also customary for a bride to have something blue, something old, and something new?”
There was a hesitation as the other women looked at each other. Then another woman, middle-aged and stout, pushed her way through and took a lovely fringed shawl from her own shoulders. “This is something new.” She draped the shawl around Ingrid’s back and arms. “My oldest girl just sent it to me all the way from New York City, and I have a perfectly good one at home. You go ahead and keep it.”
“Thank you.” Ingrid was so grateful. The shawl was a deep maroon color and beautiful. As she settled it around her shoulders, she was grateful to have at least one pretty thing to wear for her wedding.
Another woman who appeared to be an older copy of Susan fumbled with the collar of her dress and unpinned a small brooch with tiny blue beads. “I just remembered. I have something blue! Here, dear.” She fastened it onto Ingrid’s dress and gave it a pat. “That will do nicely. I’m Emma Cain, Susan’s mother. My husband planned to be here today, but our old cow that’s about to calve wandered off and he’s out trying to find her.”
Ingrid did not remember any of these women ever coming to call on Millicent, so she thought it was a safe guess that they were not friends of her former mistress.
“Well, lookee here what I just found.” Ingrid saw Private Lyman Wilson nudge Joshua’s shoulder with his own. “This ole wedding ring just flopping around in my pants pocket. You suppose it would rate as something old?”
“I can’t take that,” Joshua said.
“Sure you can.” Lyman held it out. “A woman needs a ring on her wedding day. Besides, it’s not doing me any good without a left hand to wear it on.”
“You could wear it on your right,” Joshua pointed out.
“My Leah has been gone these past two years,” Lyman said. “I’m fixing to start courting again myself soon. Sorry if it’s a little big, but you can get it fixed later on if she wants. It would be an honor for me to know your wife is wearing it.”
“Thank you, Lyman.” Joshua accepted the ring and put it safely in his breast shirt pocket.
“So you’re gonna be our new ma, huh?” Agnes, still toting the littlest girl on her hip, butted her way through the crowd. People backed off to watch the confrontation between the new stepmother and Joshua’s oldest girl.
It was the first time Ingrid had seen Agnes up close. Now she saw that the girl’s eyes were way too old for a child her age. The other people faded into the background as Ingrid focused all her attention on Agnes. “I be good mother to you and little ones.”
“Well, I guess I could use some help with these younguns.” Agnes motioned for Ingrid to bend over. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Ingrid leaned down until her ear was even with Agnes’s mouth.
“If you’re ever mean or hurtful to my pa or my sisters, I’ll cut your heart out with a dull spoon while you’re a-sleeping and I’ll feed it to the coyotes. Do you understand, lady?”
“Ja!” Ingrid straightened up and looked at the child with concern. “I understand.”
“Good.” Agnes turned an angelic smile toward everyone standing around. “Ellie and Trudy—come say hey to our new ma.”
Ingrid was still absorbing Agnes’s threat when the judge called for everyone’s attention.
“Will the wedding party come forward?” Judge Carver’s voice boomed across the room. “I really do have to get going.”
“Come and stand up with me,” she heard Joshua say to Lyman.
Lyman looked dumbstruck. “Well, I’d be honored!”
Ingrid turned to Hazel. “Will you . . . ?”
“Why, sur
e, me and She-Wolf would love to stand up with you.”
Susan, who had disappeared outside for a few moments, ran back in with a bouquet of dandelions. She shoved them into Ingrid’s hand. “Here. This is the best I could do. Every bride should have a bouquet.”
With a borrowed lace hankie, some woman’s new fringed shawl, the preacher’s wife’s brooch, a bouquet of dandelions, and She-Wolf and Hazel as bridesmaids, Ingrid covenanted herself to a stranger while an ant that had been clinging to the dandelions crawled up her elbow.
And with that, Ingrid Larsen’s new life began.
As he drove his family home, Joshua held the reins loosely in his hands and pondered the strange turns a man’s life could take. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that morning when he left his cabin that he would be bringing a new wife back with him.
He had no earthly idea what to say to the woman.
Ingrid rode in silence, her battered piece of luggage at her feet.
Even the girls seemed awed into silence by the fact that there was a strange woman going home with them.
“It will be late when we get home.” Joshua cleared his throat. “I’m afraid there’s not much to eat, and I didn’t have time to tidy things up before we left.”
“I can cook,” Ingrid said. “I can clean.”
Silence.
“I have a good start on a nice cherry orchard.” Joshua made another attempt. “I’m hoping to have a good crop next spring. The trees should be mature enough by then.”
“Cherries are good.”
“Yes, they are.”
Silence.
“You got any idea how to make biscuits?” Agnes spoke from the back of the wagon. “Pa’s are as hard as rock. I almost broke my tooth on one last week.”
“I make good biscuits.”
This was of great interest to Agnes. “Do you know how to make gravy?”
“Ja.” Ingrid nodded.
“Biscuits and gravy sure would be tasty tonight before we go to bed,” Agnes hinted.
Ingrid looked at Joshua. “You want I make biscuits and gravy?”
“Yes!” He spoke so emphatically that the woman jumped and looked at him with concern. He hadn’t realized until Agnes began talking about food how hungry he was.
“That is fine, then,” Ingrid said.
“Can you sew?” Agnes pressed.
“Ja, I sew fine.”
He waited, but the woman never said another word. She seemed content to sit in silence, so Joshua stopped trying to make conversation and concentrated on other things—like where, exactly, he would sleep tonight. His stomach rumbled. It really would be helpful if the woman could cook.
Ingrid had a hundred questions on the tip of her tongue, but she did not have the nerve to ask even one. If only she had had time to prepare herself for all of this! The judge, however, would have thought something was strange if Joshua had not taken his new bride home with him tonight.
A new bride.
She had never been a bride before. She wasn’t certain how she should act or what she should do.
“This is it.” He stopped the wagon and horse in front of a small, sturdy-looking log cabin.
Ingrid drew a deep breath and looked around. There was much she could do with this place. There was a fine, big barn to the right of the cabin with a large corncrib. Neat split-rail fences created a roomy pasture where a healthy-looking dairy cow and two well-muscled plow horses stood contentedly cropping grass. To the left of the cabin was a large vegetable garden. Next to it was a smokehouse. Then came a low chicken house and a pigpen with two lean young hogs rooting in the earth. Behind the cabin, on a small rise, she saw the cherry orchard, which had a few white blossoms. Seeing all this gave her great pleasure. Joshua was no slovenly farmer. He took pride in his home.
“You and the girls go on in,” he said as he leaped down from the wagon seat, “while I put the wagon away and take care of the horse.”
Ingrid had seen George help Millicent down from their buggy many times. She had watched other men helping their wives down from various buggies and wagons. Perhaps this was what married women in America were supposed to expect. She did not want to make a mistake so soon after her marriage. She lifted her valise onto her lap and waited. While she waited, she fingered the unfamiliar wedding ring Joshua had placed upon her hand.
“Something wrong with your legs?” Agnes said as she jumped off the wagon.
“No.” Ingrid hurriedly climbed down.
“Oh,” Joshua said, rushing over. “I forgot to help you down. I’m sorry.”
“Is fine.”
“So many things on my mind.”
“Is fine.” She stood in the middle of the yard, unsure of what to do next. Although she was now supposedly the mistress of the house, it felt odd to walk into a strange home without first being invited. Joshua was no help. He had already gone back to unhitching the wagon.
“Don’t be scared.” Trudy took hold of Ingrid’s hand.
That small act of kindness gave Ingrid courage. Together, they entered the cabin.
The chaos inside was appalling.
Dirty dishes were piled on the table. Dirty clothes lay abandoned in a corner. A cold fireplace was filled with dead ashes, many of which were spilling across the hearth and out onto the floor. The remains of what appeared to be the family’s breakfast sat in two skillets on top of the wood cookstove. Flies buzzed around the cold stove and blanketed the leftover food.
A little girl’s yellow dress lay across a chair rung, the perfect imprint of a too-hot iron upon the bottom.
“It’s even worse than I remembered,” Joshua said as he came through the door. He scratched his head. “It usually isn’t this bad. I didn’t want to be late to the inquest, and I was trying to get the girls ready this morning, and . . .”
“Is fine.” Ingrid sat her one piece of luggage on the floor and rolled up her sleeves. This, at last, was something she knew how to handle. “Is all fine.”
“I’ll, uh, just put this in the bedroom.” Joshua opened a door and shoved it inside. She caught a glimpse of an unmade bed.
“I need water. And soap. And kindling.” Ingrid put her hands on her hips and took stock. The cabin had only two rooms: the big sitting room with the kitchen area at the end, and the small bedroom. Narrow stairs led to a loft.
“Of course.” He hurried out the door with a bucket.
“Are you gonna make us something to eat or what?” Agnes was still holding Polly. “Those biscuits and gravy sure did sound good back there.”
“We wash dishes. Then cook.”
“I don’t mind washing dishes,” Agnes said, “if that’s what we gotta do to get some food around here.”
The stove had a water reservoir that had retained some warmth from the morning. With the girls showing her where everything was kept and Joshua bringing her water, kindling, and firewood, Ingrid built a good fire in the stove, then helped Agnes deal with the stacked and dirty dishes, pots, and pans while they waited for the oven to heat. When the fire warmed to a temperature hot enough to bake biscuits, she could finally create the meal she had promised, and more.
It was difficult cooking with four hungry children underfoot, but by the time Joshua came in from caring for his livestock and doing his evening chores, she was setting supper out on the table. Fried potatoes. A pyramid of biscuits. Sliced ham from the smokehouse. Plenty of ham gravy made with flour and drippings. Plus a bowl of honey still in the comb. It was the best she could do with such little notice.
Joshua stopped and stared. “Oh, my.” A slow grin spread over his face. “Real, honest-to-goodness food. Thank you, Ingrid.”
She did not feel comfortable sitting down with her new family. Instead, she stood beside the stove, ready to serve them.
“Sit down.” Joshua grasped her hand and tugged. “Eat with us. You must be so tired after everything that’s happened today.”
She obeyed, as she believed a good wife should. Inside, she
was greatly pleased. Many men would have gobbled the food with no thought for their wife’s comfort, but her Joshua was not such a man.
Her mind was spinning with possibilities for the future. She had married a fine man who was respected by other men. He owned his own farm and a promising orchard, and took care of his animals before taking thought to his own needs. The fact that he had wrestled with an unfamiliar flatiron trying to make his daughters presentable melted her heart.
She could hardly believe that she was sitting here with her new husband who had eyes the color of the ocean she had crossed, and best of all—oh, how blessed a woman she was—he had just led their family in a fine prayer of thanksgiving before he put so much as a bite of food into his mouth.
One of the reasons she had longed to come to America—apart from the fact that there were jobs and inexpensive land here—was because she and Hans were Pietists, a group that strove to lead lives of piety and personal holiness. Those in charge of the well-established Lutheran church back home were not pleased that there were those who did not accept church doctrine without question. They were especially displeased that there were those who felt it necessary to study the Scriptures for themselves instead of putting blind trust in the Lutheran clergy. Things had gotten to the point that there had been some persecution, and many Swedish Pietists were immigrating to this new land for that fact alone. Hans had written her the good news that many American churches were now emphasizing the need for Bible study and personal accountability over the trappings of tradition and form.
Although the Bowerses occasionally drove a great distance to some church that Millicent approved of in a larger town, there was no church building in the small village of White Rock. However, there must be some sort of church since Susan had mentioned that she was a preacher’s daughter. Perhaps, like the Pietists back home, there were people here who worshiped in one another’s homes.
As Joshua and the girls dug into their heaping plates, she prayed her own silent prayer of gratitude and asked that the years would be good to them. That she would learn to be a good mother to these children. That someday her husband would give her children of her own. And that somehow, some way, God would give her a miracle and Joshua Hunter would learn to love her.
A Promise to Love Page 7