by Kit Morgan
“Willow? The customers?!”
“Yes, ma’am!” Willow hurried into the dining area to take orders. Once she had all of them, she gave them to Mrs. Weber and started on the dirty dishes. Soon she got into a rhythm and could let her mind wander where it would.
Naturally, it went straight for Jack Carlson. What sort of business would Jack be starting? Did he have relatives in the West? What did “recuperating from the war” mean? She had so many questions and a whole month to ponder them. What would Cutter’s Creek be like? Had he been living there long? She wondered if the townspeople there had come to admire him as much as she had.
She hadn’t seen him in years, and wished she knew more. But she didn’t. She’d be walking blindly into this marriage with a man she hadn’t seen since before the war. She remembered he’d gone off to school to study engineering. Would he be busy building bridges and buildings now? Provided he’d had time to finish college before the war started. Hmmm, he probably hadn’t …
“Miss Bennett! Stop that lollygagging and get to work!”
Willow jumped again, and realized she’d stopped scrubbing. “Sorry, ma’am. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Get your mind on your work, girl, and be glad that Betsy isn’t here or I’d toss you out that door right now!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Willow bent to her work once more.
Cutter’s Creek, May 1866
“Miss Bennett?” A hand shook her shoulder. “I think we’re here.”
Willow opened her eyes. “What?”
“I said I think we’re here,” came the man’s voice again.
Willow blinked the sleep from her eyes and looked at kindly Mr. Munro sitting across from her. “Thank you for waking me.” She pushed back the dust flap covering the stagecoach window and peeked outside, noting a boarding house as they passed. There were a couple of shops next to it, including a café, which made her cringe. Well, that’s in the past now, she thought as the stagecoach pulled up in front of the mercantile next to the restaurant. At least, she hoped it was in the past.
Her trip had been long and tiresome, but it did have redeeming qualities, including no dirty dishes and no Mrs. Weber. Still, though she hadn’t been at her old job in weeks, she felt just as tired, thanks to the long trip west.
At least she wouldn’t look like she usually did after working all day. She’d had the foresight to save a dress for the last day of her journey, not wanting her precious Jack to see her in dirty clothes. It was bad enough the dress was wrinkled, but it was clean and that’s what mattered. She’d also managed a bath at the last stage stop, a miracle in itself as she’d only had one other the entire journey.
This meant that the first thing she’d have to do once she was settled in was some laundry – hard work, though better than buckets of dishes. And what did it matter? What did was that she was going marry Jack. She sighed at the thought and prepared to disembark.
The stage door opened and Willow looked out at the townsfolk milling around in front of the mercantile. “Do you see him?” Mr. Munro asked.
“No, not yet. But perhaps he’s inside.”
The stage driver offered her his hand and helped her down. She exited as gracefully as she could in case Jack was watching. She wanted to make a good impression. She brushed her skirt, then casually glanced this way and that, hoping to see the look on his face. What would his first thoughts of her be? Would he think she’d grown into quite the beauty? If not for the War Between the States, she’d have been married long ago. But the fighting had taken all the eligible young men of her acquaintance and destroyed them …
“Is that him over there?” Mr. Munro whispered next to her.
Her breathing stopped as she followed his gaze. A clergyman stood talking to a young blonde man wearing spectacles. “No, I’m afraid not. Perhaps I’d better check inside.”
“You do that, Miss Bennett, and best of luck to you,” Mr. Munro said as he spied an older gentleman and waved. “Maybe I’ll see you around town sometime.”
“Perhaps you will. Then I’ll introduce you to my husband.”
“I can’t wait to meet him. Take care now.” He headed for the man, who must be his father. He’d talked about him for over half the trip. She smiled as the two men embraced and headed for a wagon.
Would Jack recognize her? Would he give her the same sort of hug when he saw her and figured out who she was? Even if he didn’t recognize her at first, would he still embrace her? They were going to be married, after all, perhaps this very afternoon. The thought sent a shiver of delight up her spine.
The driver retrieved her satchel and she took it gratefully. She went up the steps to the boardwalk and entered the mercantile, glancing at the few patrons in the store before approaching the counter. A man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes looked up from his work. “Afternoon, ma’am. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’ve just arrived into town and I … well …” Good heavens, she couldn’t believe her nerves! “I’m … looking for someone.”
“Who might that be?” he asked. “Maybe I can point you in the right direction.”
“His name is Jack. Jack Carlson.”
The storekeeper stared at her a moment in confusion. “Jack Carlson? Why, I didn’t think he had any other family. Are you his sister?”
“No,” she said with a blush. “I’m his mail-order bride.”
The man took a step back. “Mail-order bride?”
Willow paled at his shocked expression. “Er … yes. Have you seen him? He was supposed to meet me.”
The man looked her up and down. “I see. Well, I’m sure if he knew you were coming he’ll be along. Sometimes it takes Jack a while to get around, you know.”
“Oh dear,” she heard herself say. What did he mean by that? “You don’t mind if I wait, do you?”
“No, ma’am, you go right on ahead. In fact, if Jack doesn’t show up soon I’ll go fetch him myself.”
“That’s most kind of you, Mr. …?”
“Smith, ma’am – Jasper Smith. If you don’t mind, I’ll just run to the back of the store and ask the missus. Maybe she’s seen Jack heading this way.”
Willow smiled weakly. Something was definitely odd about his behavior. “Thank you. I’ll wait right here.” Mr. Smith hurried out from behind the counter, ran down a hall and disappeared.
Several other customers began to gather around her. “Did you say you were a mail-order bride?” an elderly woman asked. She was well-dressed and wore an enormous hat.
“Yes, you heard correctly.”
“I’m Mrs. Petroff,” the woman said before waving a hand toward the others. “This is Mrs. Waverly and Mrs. Brown. Tell us, who did you say your intended was?”
“Jack Carlson.”
Mrs. Petroff pressed her lips together and looked concerned. Mrs. Waverly wore a similar expression. “Mr. Carlson?” Mrs. Brown squeaked. “He sent for a mail-order bride?”
Willow felt even more nervous now. “I beg your pardon, but is there something I should know?”
“If you have to ask, dear, then there are probably a lot of things you should know!” Mrs. Petroff huffed. “I must say, though, you’d have to be an angel of mercy to want to marry that man.”
“What?” Willow said in confusion. “Why?!”
The bell above the door rang, drawing the women’s attention away from her, and thank Heaven for that! The clergyman she’d seen earlier walked in, took one look at her and headed her way. “Miss Willow Bennett?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m Miss Bennett. Did Mr. Carlson send you? Is he all right?”
“Yes, yes, he’s fine. I’ve come to fetch you for him.”
“Oh dear, has he been delayed?”
Mrs. Petroff rolled her eyes. “In a manner of speaking …”
The clergyman glanced her way with what Willow swore was a warning look. “I’m simply taking care of a few errands for him,” he said, turning back to Willow. “Shall we?” He motioned toward the door.<
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Before Willow could open her mouth Mr. Smith came back with a woman in tow, presumably his wife. “Good, you’re still here. Ah, Rev. Latsch, I see you’ve met Mr. Carlson’s … young lady.”
Mrs. Smith grabbed one of Willow’s hands and gave it a healthy shake. “Welcome to Cutter’s Creek! It’s so nice to meet you! We had no idea Jack sent away for a bride!”
Rev. Latsch pulled at his collar and swallowed hard. “Well, I’d best get Miss Bennett where she belongs.”
“Does this mean there’s going to be a wedding this afternoon?” Mrs. Petroff asked. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to attend, ladies?”
“It would be something, wouldn’t it?” Mrs. Waverly agreed. “I can’t wait to tell Amos!”
“I’m sure Mr. Carlson and Miss Bennett would like to get to know each other a little before they take their vows,” Rev. Latsch interjected. “Let’s give the poor woman a chance to rest first, shall we?”
“Yes, but of course,” said Mrs. Smith. “I’m Abigail, by the way, and I would just love to help you get settled here in town!”
Willow smiled, enjoying the woman’s enthusiasm. “I would like that too, thank you.”
“We’d best be on our way,” the reverend urged.
Willow smiled at him and nodded. This was it. She was about to see Jack Carlson again. She just hoped and prayed that after all of this, it was her Jack and not some stranger. How foolish would she feel if it was?
3
“I’m afraid I owe you somewhat of an apology, Miss Bennett,” the good reverend told her as they walked through the tiny town.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely honest.”
His statement stopped Willow dead in her tracks. “What?”
“It’s true that you are a mail-order bride come here to marry Jack Carlson. However …” He fidgeted and cleared his throat. “… Jack doesn’t know.”
Willow backed up two steps, her mind reeling. “What do you mean, he doesn’t know? Doesn’t know what?”
“That you’re here. In fact, that he has a mail-order bride.”
“What?!”
Rev. Latsch waved his hands in front of him, as if preparing to fend off her attack. “Now I know how this may appear …”
“Appear?!” she squeaked. “You just told me I’m here to marry Jack Carlson, only to then tell me the man doesn’t even know!”
“Oh bother,” he said with a sigh. “Why in Heaven’s name did I think this would work?”
“Why indeed!” She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. She was nervous enough about seeing Jack, but now … would he want to see her at all? All her life, he barely knew she existed. This might be the final blow.
“He needs you,” the reverend offered.
“Needs me? Then why didn’t he send for me, or any other mail-order bride, himself?”
“Because he’s stubborn, that’s why.”
Willow stopped breathing. The minister wasn’t angry, just frustrated. But why? What could Jack have possibly done to have the man in such a dither? “I don’t understand.”
“You will when you see him. I do apologize, Miss Bennett. I should have thought to put an explanation in the letter I sent to the Ridgley Mail-Order Bridal Service when I answered their advertisement. But something – whether it was the good Lord or my conscience, I don’t know – caused me to withhold it at that point. I only know I had to do it.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And here you are. Let’s make the best of it, shall we?”
She nodded slowly, unsure of what to say.
“I’ll introduce you as … oh dear, I hadn’t really thought this far ahead …”
Her eyebrows rose, and she groaned in frustration.
The reverend snapped his fingers. “Ah, I have it! You’re his new assistant!”
All she could do was offer up a lop-sided smile. “Assistant? For what?”
“His new duties as my assistant, of course.”
Willow closed her eyes, as if that would help make any sense of this. “Let me get this straight. Jack doesn’t know you sent for me. So now you want me to pose as his assistant?” She looked at the sky, as if pleading with the Lord. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea at this point. “And he’s your assistant. Tell me, Reverend, just what does Jack need an assistant for? Surely you can’t be that busy.”
“No, not usually. It’s Jack that needs the help.”
“With what?”
His eyes softened. “I think it’s best you see for yourself. Then you can decide.”
“Does this have anything to do with his new business?”
The reverend stared at her a moment before he said, “Yes. Yes, it does.”
Her eyes drifted to the ground as she nodded in understanding. “You care about him a lot, don’t you? Why else would you go through all this trouble and risk so much?”
“I do love Jack. He’s my cousin …” He stopped. “Wait a minute, what risk?”
She looked at him. “Who says I have to stay, Reverend?” Not that she really had a choice, but he didn’t know that. Something else was obviously going on here. Why would someone do such a thing without the other person’s consent? If her aunt or mother had brought a strange man home and told her she was to marry him, she might understand their motive, but she’d still be disturbed that they didn’t think she could make a rational decision for herself …
“Miss Bennett?”
“Oh! I’m sorry – this is a bit, ah, overwhelming.” She sighed. “All right, more than a bit. If I don’t feel this is in my best interest, then I must inform you that I will leave.”
He nodded. “Understood, Miss Bennett. Shall we proceed?”
She turned and looked up the street. A little red chapel sat at a picturesque bend in the road. It was a sight that made Willow’s heart flutter. “That’s your church?”
“Yes. Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Such an unusual color for a church.”
“It’s a simple chapel, really, but it suits the town for now.”
A thought hit Willow as they continued: she and Jack, years from now, sitting in the chapel’s front pew, a couple of children next to them, listening to one of Rev. Latsch’s sermons. Her heart fluttered again.
The reverend led her down the street past the church to a quaint two-story Gothic cottage next door and up the porch steps to the front door. This must be the parsonage, she thought to herself as they went inside.
She closed the door behind her and looked around. The walls and ceiling were white beadboard, the staircase the same bright white. There was a parlor on her right with a fireplace, an upright piano against one wall, a settee against another. Pictures hung here and there. Two chairs and a table graced the front of the bay window, which let in lots of light. Willow saw that the parlor led into the dining room, and she could see the kitchen down the hall from where she stood.
After all her travels, she couldn’t help but feel at home.
“It’s small, but cozy,” Rev. Latsch commented as he motioned to the staircase. “Let me show you to your room.
“You mentioned that Mr. Carlson was your relative. Does he live here too?” she asked.
“For now.”
“But Rev. Latsch, isn’t it improper for me to stay in the same house?”
“Not if you’re going to be wed soon.”
“But … what if I’m not?”
He stopped on the first step and frowned. “Your room isn’t much more than a large closet. My wife and I were planning on using it as a nursery if and when we have a child. Jack is in the other bedroom – your room, once you’re married.”
“If I marry him.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “You will.”
“You seem very confident about that.”
“No, I’m just trusting the Lord to finish what He started. Please, follow me.”
She fought back a sigh and followed. She didn’t have much choi
ce – her money would run out quickly if she were to stay long at the boarding house.
They reached the top of the stairs and the reverend opened the first door on her left. “Here’s your room. Again, it’s not much, but I hope it will serve you for now.”
Willow peeked past him. There was a small bed against the wall, next to an equally small table with a lantern on it. Behind the door were a tiny dresser, washbowl and pitcher. “Thank you for your hospitality, Reverend.”
“And thank you for not fleeing on the next stage out of town.”
“The thought did cross my mind.” No sense sugar-coating it.
Rev. Latsch nodded in acknowledgement. “I’ll let Mary know you’re here. The privy’s out back. When it gets closer to suppertime, she’ll show you around the kitchen. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a helping hand while you’re here. In the meantime I’ll let you rest.”
“What about Jack?”
“Oh yes, I’d best fetch him.”
“Where is he?”
“In the church office, I suspect.”
Her shoulders slumped in relief. The thought of Jack being just down the hall unnerved her. She’d never rest knowing he was feet away. “I am tired, but I also want to resolve this as quickly as possible.”
“There’s nothing to resolve, Miss Bennett. I’m sure Jack will be very pleased to meet you.”
“Remember, Reverend – he doesn’t know why I’m here.”
Rev. Latsch had the decency to blush. “True. Let’s break it to him gently, shall we?”
Willow shook her head in resignation. This was not going to end well – she could feel it in her gut. “Whatever you say.”
Two hours later …
“You did what?!” Jack barked, stumbling forward. He was hopping mad, and if he wasn’t careful he’d trip over something, fall and break his neck. “Assistant? I don’t need an assistant!”
“You need a good kick in the head is what you need,” Howard shot back, clenching his fists. “Of all the stubborn, mule-headed, prideful men I’ve ever known, Jack Carlson, you are the worst!”