Mail Order Promises

by Julianna Blake

  Lilly raised an eyebrow. “Just how many young ‘misses’ were there?”

  Jake looked up, startled. “I…uh…not many that I heard back from, I promise you. I wrote to many young women, and only four responded. And once I told them more about my situation, none of them wrote again. After that, I told Mrs. Porter to be sure the girls knew I was divorced before they wrote to me. I sent several letters in advance, just so Mrs. Gardner could show them to any potential brides, all at once—that way they knew all about me, my divorce, and my occupation—and I wouldn’t have to get my hopes up only to have them dashed again. I didn’t receive a letter for a long time, after that. Until I received yours.”

  He smiled at her, but her stomach lay like a lead cannonball in her belly. “Did you…was I only your last resort?”

  Jake’s face fell, and he grasped her hand between both of his own. “No! Not at all. Lilly, I waited years until I was ready to consider marriage again, and I’d have waited years more until I found the right girl. You are the right girl. As soon as I read your first letter, I knew. All I wanted was a good, wholesome woman to be my life’s companion. I just got very lucky that the perfect girl also happened to be beautiful, graceful, sweet, and kind.” He kissed her hand.

  She squeezed his hand back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…I suppose I just had a moment of jealousy.”

  “No reason for that. I didn’t exactly have hordes of young ladies beating down my door for a chance to be courted by an ‘old’ divorced man who is the talk of the town.”

  Lilly giggled at the mental image of a bevy of beauties, angrily shoving each other out of the way to squeeze through the garden gate and pound on Jake Morgan’s door. As her laughter faded, she thought about what he’d said. “Why are you the talk of the town? I can’t imagine that your divorce was the most exciting gossip to come along in the last few years.”

  Jake shook his head. “You’ve got me, there. It seems there is a contingent of church-going ladies who disapprove of divorce for any reason, and even more so of remarriage. Doesn’t matter that the Bible allows it under certain circumstances—they consider themselves the judge and jury, and I’ve been hanged in their eyes. They think I should have just wallowed in misery for the rest of my life, while my wife gallivanted around with another man. Even though I’m the innocent one, they don’t think I deserve a second chance at happiness.”

  “That’s absurd!”

  He nodded, taking another bite of stew. “I hope those ladies didn’t give you too much difficulty.”

  “No. They all seemed shocked at first, but then when the store owner asked a woman to help, she and her friend seemed very polite. It was the other one—a Mrs. Birdwell—who made the rude comment. Well, about me. It was the man who insulted you.”

  “How did he insult me? And who was it? Usually it’s the womenfolk who feel the need to comment on the lives of everyone around them. No offense, Lilly—I meant a certain kind of womenfolk, a group to which you obviously do not belong.”

  Lilly nodded. “Understood. I can’t stand the type of woman who does that. I was raised better. It’s just not necessary. And it’s true, the men don’t often talk as much about others. Though I’ve met a few who did. The man at the mercantile today seemed to be the type. I forget his name…Warren Something? Or maybe Something Warren—I’m not sure.”

  “Wilbur Warren?!”

  “Yes, that’s the one. He said you don’t deserve a first wife, much less a second. I thought it was very rude. Why would anyone say such a thing?” Lilly didn’t want to admit that the man had her wondering…could her husband have earned himself a bad reputation in town, for something other than his marital difficulties?

  Jake wiped his mouth on his napkin, then threw it down on the table. “That does it! That man is getting on my last nerve, I swear. It’s been years, and he just won’t let it go!”

  “Let what go?”

  “It happened right after Sadie left. I was distraught, I wasn’t sleeping, and I couldn’t keep my mind on my work. A few times, I did a poor job on a horseshoe or a few nails, things like that. I didn’t have Edgar to fall back on, and I was in bad shape. Overall, my work was fine. I have an excellent reputation in town for quality workmanship. But sometimes I was worn out and not keeping my mind on things. I made a set of custom decorative door hinges for Wilbur Warren. They were a work of art, and I worked hard on them. But I must have been distracted at some point, and made a mistake, because a couple of the hinges broke a few months after I gave them to Warren. I apologized, and offered to remake them…I even offered to remake the whole set. I have a reputation to uphold, and I want my customers satisfied. But that wasn’t good enough for Warren. He spread rumors about me, cost me half my business for a while.”

  “Oh Jake, that’s awful! What a spiteful man!”

  “Eventually folks figured out that it was just sour grapes on his part, and that I’d been out of sorts after my marriage fell apart. But my business still isn’t quite what it was before that. And now, to harass my wife, of all things?” He pounded the table in anger. “The gall of that man!”

  “I didn’t like the way he looked at me. It made me feel…uncomfortable.”

  Jake’s brow furrowed. “How did he look at you?”

  “I…I suppose appraisingly. Like he was sizing up a horse at auction.” Lilly swallowed. “He’s not dangerous, is he?”

  Jake thought a moment. “Nah. I don’t think so. He’s all bluster. It may even be that he’s jealous. He lost his wife last year in childbirth. Ever since then, he’s done all he can to rile me up. Then, to see me with a pretty new wife, when he’s lost his? I’m sure that set him off. I suppose he thought insulting me to my wife would be a fairly good way to get at me.”

  “I’m sorry that he lost his wife, but it sounds like he was an angry person long before that.”

  “He was,” Jake nodded. “Some people are just that way. I don’t think you need to worry over him, but just steer clear of him for now.”

  “I’ll do that.” She took a sip of her stew. “If you’d like, I can send you back with a slice of spice bread.”

  “How about that apple pie I smell?”

  “No! That’s for tonight, after supper—and besides, it needs to cool. Bad enough the spice bread will be falling apart since I won’t have time to cool that, before I give you a slice!”

  He chuckled and took a bite of a roll, smiling at her as he chewed.

  Lilly made a mental note to stay away from Wilbur Warren, as her husband suggested. The last thing she wanted to do was stir up more trouble for Jake.

  Chapter 12

  Sunday, July 6, 1890

  More than two weeks had passed since Lilly had arrived in Helena, and she found herself settling in quite well. She had visited Mrs. Porter at the butcher shop whenever she stopped in for meats or sausages, and had struck up a friendly acquaintance with a few of Mrs. Porter’s friends. She still earned the stares of several women around town, and the glare of Mrs. Birdwell, whenever they crossed paths.

  Jake had been putting in long hours at the smithy, working from sunrise to sunset, taking advantage of the long days to get the heavy, ornate fence panels ready for the Crowley Estate. It was a prestigious job, one that could bring a notable increase in business. But it made for very long days, leaving Lilly feeling lonely.

  Fortunately, she was able to throw herself into improvements in the apartment. Jake had not been exaggerating when he told her that cleaning up after a blacksmith was a grueling job. She spent hours each week scouring floors, wiping down walls, and scrubbing soot from every stitch of clothing and every piece of linen. And that was with a husband who was careful not to make more work for her than necessary—her heart went out to any blacksmith’s wife whose husband was not so conscientious.

  The garden took up her time as well—there was much pruning, trimming, and training of plants to be done—flower vines that grew wild were now tied to the trellises on the arbor gate
and which stretched up alongside the apartment windows. The heavy branches overburdened with rose blossoms had been scaled back to a more elegant profusion of flowers that trailed over the arbor and along the fence. Jake was very impressed with her skills. In a short time, the garden had gone from an overgrown patch of wildflowers to well-groomed landscape of sculpted beauty. She was very proud of her accomplishments.

  She’d even managed to get in a kitchen and herb garden along the south wall of their little courtyard. It was late in the year to start, but she did manage to plant a variety of herbs as well as cucumbers, greens, and zucchini, and planned to put in a fall cool-weather crop of radishes, kale, and spinach. Though the garden didn’t get a full day of sun, as she would like, she thought she’d get in a reasonable harvest for her efforts, and do even better next year.

  Lilly and Jake spent every moment of the weekends together. Prior to her arrival, Jake only took Sundays off. But after they married, he let his apprentice take on more of the easier projects and all the horse shoeing and repair jobs on Saturdays, while Jake took the day off, so he and his wife could spend two whole days together each week. Those hours together were precious to Lilly, as she and her husband grew as a couple, and got to know each other. She was happy that Sunday had arrived again—their third, as a married couple—and looked forward to the private picnic they had planned after church.

  After sitting through service in the sweltering chapel—with Mrs. Birdwell casting scathing glances her way across the aisle—Lilly was eager to get out into the fresh air and set off for the picnic with her husband. As they exited the church, Jake pulled her aside.

  “It’s a mess over where the wagons stand—everyone parked their wagons so haphazardly today, it’s going to take a while and a lot of jostling wagons back and forth to get us out. Why don’t you go sit in the shade of the church while I bring the wagon ‘round?”

  Lilly fanned herself. Though it wasn’t humid, the July sun beat down on her shoulders. She’d give anything for a dip in a creek, but the shade looked inviting, as well. “That sounds like a marvelous idea. Thank you.” She sat on a brick ledge that ran alongside the church, on the side where there was still about two feet of shade from the building. It was blessed relief, though she was eager to get going before someone stopped to chat them up.

  She was watching Jake talk to another man, gesturing politely to indicate, she assumed, that he wanted the man to move his buggy back a few feet so he could have enough room to back out his own wagon.

  She didn’t see that a man had approached her, until his shadow fell across the ground in front of her.

  “Well, aren’t you a pretty picture?” The sullen voice startled her.

  She looked up, shading her eyes, surprised to find Wilbur Warren standing over her.

  “Mr. Warren.” She pursed her lips in displeasure. “I didn’t think you attended church.”

  “I don’t.” His face was frozen in a stern mask, and he was standing uncomfortably close. “I was just passing by on my way to the saloon. Ain’t darkened a church door since my Ellie died. Figure God didn’t care enough to help her, so why should I care a whit about him?”

  “I am sorry for your loss, truly, but everyone dies sooner or later—I don’t think that’s a reason to shun God.” She knew she sounded curt, but the man was trouble—and she wanted to avoid him. She looked around, eager to send someone a silent signal in the hopes that they would interrupt the conversation…but everyone was several feet away, standing in clusters, engaged in conversations of her own.

  “Not the way she died!” he growled in a low voice, following with a curse word as he glared at her. “She bled to death slowly, crying out in pain and suffering for a whole day until the life finally faded from her eyes.” His eyes slid up the wall of the church, glaring at it as if he’d like to pull it down, brick by brick. “You don’t know. No one knows, until it happens to them. Until they lose their wife and their unborn child in one day. I didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve that.”

  Lilly cringed back against the wall of the church as Mr. Warren leaned down, his face inches from hers, reeking of whiskey. He’d already been drinking, even before getting to the saloon…and on a Sunday morning! “Some of us deserve a good wife. And here you come, tripping into town with your pretty dress and your wide eyes, playing wife to a man who is already married—who already had his chance, and blew it.”

  His tone was mocking, his eyes menacing, and suddenly the bright sun faded away, and she was once again cringing back in the darkness of a dank church basement, cobwebs tickling her cheeks, wanting to run, to scream. But she couldn’t, because she was trapped…

  Then the memories and the imagined darkness were whisked away as quickly as Wilbur Warren’s face, as her husband grabbed him roughly and dragged him away from Lilly, while positioning himself before her as a human stockade.

  “What in the devil do you think you’re doing to my wife?” Jake stood, fists clenched, his fury barely contained. “Look at her! She’s terrified.”

  Warren drew himself up. He was shorter than Jake, but built like a bulldog. “I didn’t lay a hand on her. I was just warning her that she didn’t know what she was getting into when she married the likes of you.”

  “Gentlemen, gentleman!” The pastor slipped between the two men, his arms outstretched to keep the peace. “Let’s not come to blows right in the dooryard of God’s own house.”

  Jake flicked his eyes to the reverend, then to the crowd, then back to Warren. Then he leaned forward and pointed over the pastor’s shoulder. “Stay…away…from my…wife.” His voice was low and threatening. Turning on his heel, he helped Lilly up, then escorted her to the wagon, which had yet to move more than a few feet from its original position.

  The clusters of onlookers parted as they walked. Lilly still trembled from the memories that had overtaken her. She was mortified. She knew she had overreacted to Wilbur Warren’s angry tirade. He hadn’t made any moves to harm her. She could have dismissed him and walked away. Yet she’d trembled as if he’d stood over her with an ax, and her husband had almost come to blows in her defense.

  When they reached the wagon, the man whose wagon was behind theirs had pulled his wagon away. Two more men hopped into their wagons and made way for Jake—probably wanting to avoid his ire. He signaled the horses and they left without a word or a nod to anyone.

  They rode in silence a piece, while Lilly waited for her racing heart to slow. Jake’s hands clenched the reins, and his feet were braced firmly against the buckboard. He looked mad enough to spit nails.

  “I’m sorry,” Lilly said quietly.

  ***

  Jake could hardly believe his ears. He turned his head sharply, pinning her with his gaze. “What do you mean, you’re sorry? That man was all but accosting you!”

  “He didn’t touch me. If he had tried, I would have screamed—”

  “Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you call for help? He clearly had you backed against the church wall—were you waiting for him to touch you before you asked for assistance? People were only a few feet away. If you’d have merely called out, you could have gotten their attention!”

  Lilly’s mouth opened as if to say something, then shut, then opened again. “I…” She closed it again. Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned to face forward, her lower lip trembling.

  “I’m sorry, Lilly, I—”

  “Take me home!” she snapped, not taking her eyes from the road.

  “We’re supposed to go on a picnic. Let’s go, and we’ll talk—”

  “No.” Her voice was low, but filled with animosity. “I have no desire to go on a picnic, or to talk with you…ever! Take…me…home!”

  His stomach clenched, tense from a mixture of irritation, anger, and guilt. He snapped the reins and took the next right, so he could circle around the block and head back toward their apartment.

  When they arrived, Jake stopped the wagon at the door so he could help Lilly out before
stabling the horses. But she climbed down from the wagon on her own, leaving behind the picnic basket tucked under the seat, which she had filled that morning with delicious foods for their after-church excursion.

  “Lilly.”

  She didn’t hesitate, but strode to the gate, slipped through it, and continued up the slate walkway to their apartment.

  Instead of putting Charley and Paca away, he set the brake and hopped out, almost twisting his foot in his haste, and followed her. The door slammed before he could get through the gate. By the time he was inside, she had torn off her bonnet and discarded it on the kitchen table—something Lilly, who kept a neat house—never did. He tossed his own hat beside it and followed the sound of crying…and found her curled up on the bed, hugging a pillow, with her back toward the bedroom door.

  “Please. Lilly. I’m sorry. I never should have turned on you like that. The man was out of line. I don’t know what his intentions were. I’m sure you, being the kind person you are, assumed the best. I just—” he ran his hand through his hair. “I saw him standing over you like that, and I sprang into action. It drove me mad to see him anywhere near you, much less leaning in like he was about to push you into the wall and…”

  He sat on the bed, gingerly placing a hand on her trembling shoulders as she cried all the harder. She jerked under his touch, pulling away without giving him so much as a glance. Jake pulled back sharply, as if he’d been slapped across the face. Her silent rebuke—for reasons he didn’t even understand—made his blood boil.

  How could she treat me this way? I came to her defense! Just like a good husband should! And this is how she repays me?

  He stood up abruptly, and the bed shook and squeaked. Lilly cowered away, trembling and sobbing harder, as if it was Wilbur Warren in the room with her, and not her own husband. Stunned and insulted, he turned and stalked to the door.