by Zina Abbott
Amidst the exclamations and teasing, which Aaron noticed prompted Andrea to turn pink with embarrassment and shrink into herself, he rose and walked over. he offered the crook of his elbow to her. “Miss—Andrea, is it?—may I please escort you to the refreshment table?”
~o0o~
Andrea shook with nerves she didn’t know she had, worried she would do something to embarrass herself even more. How had she been so fortunate to guess correctly Aaron Brinks’s favorite activity? It had just seemed logical to her that a man who worked hard physically and whose favorite activity was usually done indoors would be a reader. When she had still been at home, if she had ever found any free time, she preferred to either do embroidery or read her Bible. She couldn’t see any man choosing to do needlework, so that had only left reading.
Andrea’s heart jammed into her throat to the point she could barely force out “Thank you” when Aaron handed her a plate of cake.
“Aaron, would you care to introduce me to this young woman?”
Andrea turned to face an older woman who had helped cut the cake and pour water into glasses for the guests. There was a familiar look about her, but Andrea could not recall seeing her before.
“Sorry. Ma, this is Miss Andrea…” Aaron wrinkled his forehead as he looked to Andrea to fill in the missing name.
“Dalton. I’m Andrea Dalton, ma’am.”
Andrea studied the woman’s face and experienced an “ah-ha” moment. She looked familiar because she could see the resemblance between her and her son.
Aaron picked up where he left off. “This is Miss Andrea Dalton. Miss Dalton, may I introduce you to my mother, Mrs. Desdemona Brinks?”
“So nice to meet you, Miss Dalton.” Desi stuck out her hand to shake. Andrea felt a surge of panic as she looked first at her plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other. What was the correct thing to do now? She sighed with relief when Desi reached across the table and patted her forearm. “Please call me Desi. Everyone here does.”
Andrea thought she detected a mischievous look in the woman’s eye as she turned her attention to her son. “So, Aaron, are you having a good time?”
Andrea watched Aaron as he gave his mother a pointed look. “Yes, Ma. It’s been an enjoyable evening.”
“Good.”
Andrea looked down as she took a sip of water. There was more to that exchange than what met the ear. She suspected Aaron had not wanted to come this evening any more than she had.
“And Miss Dalton, would it be acceptable for me to call you Andrea?”
Surprised, Andrea the woman full in the face. “Yes. Please call me Andrea. I suppose as we all get to know each other, we’ll be calling each other by our first names anyway.”
“Does that apply to me? I would be pleased if you would call me Aaron.”
Startled, Andrea turned to the man next to her. “I…I suppose that would be all right.” After all, although she rarely had occasion to address them, all the men who worked for her father went by either their first name or a nickname. “Please call me Andrea, Mr. Brinks…Aaron.”
Andrea set her glass of water down and took a bite of cake. She didn’t have much experience with all this social interaction and she didn’t find it overly comfortable. She had almost wished Lizett would just pick the man who should be her husband, or pull names out of a hat. It would have been so much easier than all the activities planned for the Independence Day holiday weekend.
Then again, if Lizett had done that, maybe she would not have had a chance to meet Aaron on more of a personal level. As much as she had been drawn to his quiet, unassuming manner before the parlor game, she felt even better about him now, especially after guessing correctly his favorite activity and finding out he had family in town.
However, Lizett had said either Harold or Stanley were the best choices for her. She had said nothing about Aaron Brinks. But, Catherine was obviously smitten with Harold, although the man sneezed and wiped his nose with his handkerchief too much for Andrea’s liking. Stanley, with his brown hair and long, drooping moustache, seemed nice enough, but he hadn’t favorably impressed her the way Aaron Brinks had. Besides, he was older. Not as old as Lloyd McCreary, but at least ten years older than Andrea.
Maybe Andrea should not think too much about Stanley Turner or Aaron Brinks, especially since she didn’t intend to be a real wife to any of these miners anyway.
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CHAPTER 7
~o0o~
Aaron dragged his feet as he made his way upstairs to the living quarters above the mercantile. It being Saturday, they had only worked until two o’clock. Still, between the July heat and staying up late to play the parlor games with the brides the night before, he felt like he had put in a full day’s work.
Desi met him at the top of the stairs. “Just in time. I got the last of the water hot for your bath.”
“Ma, you didn’t need to do that. It’s too hot to have a wood stove going, especially upstairs like this.”
“Couldn’t be helped, Aaron. You’ll be leaving shortly for a fancy dinner at the River Valley Inn and the dance afterwards. You won’t impress any of those young women if you go smelling of the mine and dirty laundry. Besides, I fixed your pa something hot for dinner, so the hot stove didn’t go to waste.”
“A wash-up with cold water would have been fine, Ma.”
“Nope! You need a full bath. Make sure you scrub your head good and get some of that warm water on your face so you get a close shave. I know you shaved just last night, but I don’t want to see any shadow on your chin. If you think you need your hair trimmed, I’ll help you after you’re dressed.”
Aaron sighed and shook his head. His mother acted far too cheerful about all this. “I’m twenty-nine, Ma, not nine.”
“Good! Then you won’t need my help. I’ve got your Sunday clothes lying across the chair. Just put your dirty clothes in the corner over there and I’ll get them when I come back up.”
“Sunday clothes? I’ll roast in that wool suit coat, Ma. Hacketts at the laundry will never get the yellow stain out from under my shirt sleeves.”
“Can’t be helped, Son. This is a more formal dinner than the usual Sunday picnic and you don’t want to go underdressed. Even if some of those men don’t make the effort to dress to impress these women, you’ll be a step ahead if you look your best. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
Aaron heard the door slam behind his mother’s retreating figure before he could voice his next retort. With a sigh of resignation, he peeled the dusty and sweat-dampened clothes off his body and stepped into the tub. As he sank down into the warm water, he had to admit it felt pretty good. He grabbed the washcloth his mother had left for him, wet it and slapped it on his face to soften his whiskers. He let mind wander. Tonight he might be dancing with a woman who will shortly be his wife. He wet the washcloth again and held it by the corner with one hand as he dropped it over his shoulder until he could grab the opposite corner with his other hand. He needed to tell his pa to order in one of those long-handled brushes people use to scrub their backs. His mother had stopped scrubbing his back about the time he turned nine. Maybe if he was already married, his wife would be willing to scrub his back for him.
Andrea’s face popped into his mind. For some reason she appealed to him. She was thoughtful and observant, yet didn’t seem to need to chatter constantly. With her, he hadn’t felt like he must come up with witty responses to flirtatious quips. He felt comfortable around her. Would she be willing to scrub his back on Saturday nights after a long week of work?
Aaron shook his head, allowing the washcloth slide into the bath water. Best to not let his thoughts go there yet, not with her or any of the others. There were five brides and ten men competing for their hands. He refused to push himself on anyone, or try to impress them by coming up with clever sayings. There was no guarantee Andrea Dalton or any of this first group of brides would give him a se
cond look. He might have to go through this whole ordeal again when Delia Brownlee arrived in town, and who knows how many men she has been corresponding with. Already he regretted that he had signed up for a bride. If he had thought it through and realized to how much of a hassle all these social activities would be, he never would have.
Bathed, shaved, Sunday hat and coat brushed and dressed all except for his string tie and coat, Aaron was ready to go. It was only a short walk around the block to get to the River Valley Inn restaurant, but he had no intention of putting the coat and tie on until just before he stepped through the hotel door.
The sun had not set and the air was still stifling as Aaron stood at the side of the inn and tied the black fabric into a bow and smoothed his collar over it. He put on his jacket, and gave it a last minute check for lint or wrinkles before he stepped on the front porch and entered the front door.
As he suspected, Aaron was far from being the first person there for supper. The owner, Jude Debenham, recognized Aaron as one of the prospective grooms and escorted him to the table set aside for the occasion. Aaron noticed Jude had pushed several rectangular tables together to form one long banquet table to hold eighteen diners—the ten miners, five brides, Mrs. Millard and both Prosperity Mine owners, Clive and Royce Bainbridge.
Aaron nodded to his two bosses while mentally he thanked his mother for having the foresight to have him dress up for the occasion. He wasn’t the only one there dressed in their Sunday best. However, not all the miners went to church on a regular basis, so not all of them had invested in a suit for Sunday. Besides, most of the single men lived in dormitory-style housing owned by the Bainbridges, and it was difficult to keep a suit neat and clean under those conditions.
Aaron found himself seated next to Nathan Price on one side and Catherine on the other. Without realizing it, his eyes searched the table until he located Andrea. He fought back a scowl once he realized she had been seated next to Stanley. The more Aaron surveyed the table, especially as the last few miners straggled in and were seated, the more he suspected Lizett Millard had a hand in deciding where everyone sat.
Aaron looked over at Catherine who looked up at him long enough to offer a smile and a greeting. However, she quickly turned back to Harold who sat on the other side of her. He noticed Harold kept sneezing, which was not like him. Perhaps the man was getting a summer cold. Aaron decided it was good he got along well with Nathan Price, because it looked like the man, and possibly Josephine who sat across from him, were going to be the only ones available for him to talk to.
Aaron looked around the restaurant. The place was jam-packed. He suspected Jude had found it necessary to scrounge for every extra dining set he could get his hands on. Evidently, eating supper at the River Valley Inn in order to see how things progressed between the miners and the new brides was the day’s preferred entertainment for Jubilee Springs residents.
Jude offered two menu items for supper and Aaron selected the beef. As he ate and occasionally exchanged comments with Nathan, Aaron had to admit the food served was excellent. If his mother wasn’t such a good cook, he would be tempted to eat here often. Then again, it was possible he would shortly—maybe as soon as by Monday—have a wife to cook for him. He glanced around the table. Probably all the women here except for possibly Aurelia knew how to cook. If not, his mother would teach his new wife.
Once again Aaron’s eyes found Andrea. She had been watching him, but immediately dropped her gaze to her plate as soon as he looked her way. Aaron watched as Stanley leaned over and said something to her. With a shy smile she looked him in the face and responded.
The waiter took his dinner plate and soon brought dessert. On either side of the small plate, Aaron ran his fingers across the white linen tablecloth as if to smooth out non-existent wrinkles. He picked up his dessert fork and took his first bite. The dessert was good, but not better than something his mother could make. He looked up and stared at an imaginary spot on the wall over Josephine’s head. All he could think about was how much he would much rather be home reading a book.
Stanley’s distinctive laugh caught his attention. He glanced down towards Andrea. Aaron couldn’t tell what the man said, but he watched as Andrea glanced at him with a weak smile and nodded. Then she looked over and caught Aaron’s eye for a split second before she looked again at her dessert plate. Aaron watched her pick up her fork and use the tines to separate the dessert in front of her, as if trying to figure out all the ingredients in the confection. Aaron’s heart thumped as he watched her glance his way again with a smile that looked more heartfelt before she lowered her eyes again and took a bite of her dessert.
That was when Aaron made his decision. He would stay for the dance for a little while. He didn’t know how to dance, so those men who did would have the advantage over him when it came to impressing the brides. However, he wanted to stay at least long enough to talk to Andrea and ask if he could sit with her at church the next day and the picnic afterwards.
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CHAPTER 8
~o0o~
Andrea heaved a silent sigh of relief once the dinner was over. The food was wonderful, especially the dessert which was far fancier than anything she had learned to bake for her pa and his men. They liked their desserts plentiful and filling, not fancy.
Stanley monopolized most of the conversation. He was a nice enough man, but she wasn’t used to so many questions being asked of her. Usually if her pa or any of the men spoke to her it was to tell her what they needed her to get for them. However, Stanley kept asking about her life and what she liked to do. What else was there to tell him except she cleaned the house, milked the cow, took care of the chickens, kept up the garden and canned the produce—all those things any farm woman would do. She didn’t have much free time to do much of anything else, although she liked to read her Bible on Sundays if she found time. She felt like she had said something wrong when he didn’t comment, but just leaned away from her and studied her.
Andrea hadn’t told Stanley this, but the few times she had tried to spend time in the evening embroidering a design on dishtowels and her father caught her at it, he had disdainfully told her he didn’t need any fancywork on things for the house. She didn’t even need to hem the towels if she didn’t want to. Andrea had quietly hemmed the squares of muslin anyway, explaining to her father they would last longer that way. The time he had found her embroidering a floral pattern on the hem of a pillowcase, he had ordered her to stop that nonsense. She wasn’t getting married, anyway, since it was the duty of the youngest daughter to stay home and care for her parents, so she didn’t need to prepare linens for her own household. It had been difficult, and Andrea had shed a few tears over her father’s assertion. She had done her best to accept that she would not marry, but stay home to care for her father and his ranch.
However, that had changed once Lloyd McCreary had started coming after her. The two pillowcases she had made by hand—the one with the half-finished embroidered decoration—and the collection of embroidery thread her mother had left her had come to Jubilee Springs with her.
Andrea realized she needed to find the time to finish the second pillowcase before the wedding. It was bad enough she was going to ask for the annulment once the man she married got title to his house. The least she could do was leave him some nice linens to spruce his place up. She could make and embroider pretty dishtowels for him too.
Then again, once the annulment was final, her former husband may marry again and the new wife perhaps would not want house linens embroidered by another woman. She would have to work that out with the man she married when the time came.
The man she married. That was when she looked up and saw Aaron watching her. Stanley talked a steady stream of words at her, and she didn’t know exactly how to answer him since she was not used to being included in conversation, especially with men. He would make some woman a very nice husband. But when Andrea though
t of which man she would marry, the memory of Aaron’s face popped into her head. Embarrassed that he had caught her looking at him, she had immediately dropped her gaze to her plate.
After supper, the ladies were escorted out on the back veranda by Jude while he recruited the men to move the tables. Several of the brides exclaimed over the beauty of the lit Chinese lanterns that were hanging along the edge of the veranda and along the border of the rear yard of the inn. In the cooling evening air, she watched as the front doors to the restaurant were closed to new diners, and the room set up as a ballroom with two tables set end-to-end for the punchbowl and refreshments that would be served later. It looked like it had been planned to be a formal event. Aurelia would probably be at ease maneuvering through the dancing and socializing—she may even judge it to be rustic and beneath her. However, Andrea knew for her the fancy event would be an ordeal.
Andrea didn’t know how to dance. Her mother had tried to teach her before she passed, and also her older sister before she ran off and got married when Andrea was fourteen. However, between her father pulling her from school and not allowing her to attend social events at either the church or the community, she had forgotten everything she knew about dancing.
Andrea suspected Stanley would ask her to dance. He had been very attentive to her, even asking her to sit with him at church the next day and during the picnic lunch afterwards. She had not known how to gracefully refuse his offer, so she had agreed. Besides, that was what was expected of her as one of the brides. And Stanley was one of the two men Lizett had told her was one of the best matches for her. She wouldn’t even consider Harold, since by now everyone had figured out he and Catherine would end up together. As for Nathan Price whose name Lizett had dropped before she dismissed him as a good match for her, he didn’t seem impressed with her or anyone else.