Mail Order Regrets

by Julianna Blake

  Her expression soured. “It didn’t matter to them that we were all ignorant of Father’s business matters. We were essentially disgraced in society. Only my aunt would take us all in, and it was with much consternation from her husband. My mother still lives with her, but tried to parcel out my sisters and me, to avoid having to hear Uncle’s mutterings about burdens and responsibilities. Clara, the youngest, went to live with an expecting cousin of ours to help her during her confinement, and Grace consented to marry an attorney whom Mother says will someday make a fine politician. Mother tried to pawn me off on a well-to-do owner of a haberdashery.” She said the last, as if the man had been a penniless drunk and not a successful businessman.

  “And yet you consented to marry a rancher. A complete stranger.”

  “Yes.” Her mouth was set in a thin line. “I suppose you think that I’m mad. Or proud. Or both. And perhaps I am. But I will not sit around Boston and become the joke of all those in proper society. I will not drag a ‘new money’ husband out at balls and charity events to be ridiculed by vicious gossips.”

  “The way you would ridicule them, if they had the ‘new money’ husband?”

  Her eyes widened in shock, which turned to cold fury. Then the fury drained away. “Yes. I suppose that’s true.”

  “Is it possible that your fellow society members might not judge you quite as harshly as you think?”

  “Do you mean, is it possible that they wouldn’t judge me as harshly as I would judge them?” She arched an eyebrow.

  “Well...yeah.”

  “Not likely. As stuffy and overbearing as you may think that I am, I assure you, I am the lamb in a den of lionesses. Most of them would eagerly devour the weakest in any pack, including their own.”

  “Ah.”

  “What about you, Mr. Porter?”

  “What about me?”

  “You find it appropriate to ask me personal questions. Therefore I think it only fair that I be allowed to ask you a question or two in return.”

  “Fair enough. Fire away.”

  “You’re a little old to be single.”

  He bristled, but held his tongue. “There are a lot of men looking for a wife in Montana, and not enough young ladies to go around.”

  “That’s why you’re single, then? You couldn’t find a girl willing to marry you?”

  She looked him up and down, as if appraising him…as if he were a bum calf up for auction.

  “Why does everyone need to concern themselves with my marital status?” He muttered.

  “Hit a sore spot, did I?” The corners of her mouth turned up.

  He clenched his jaw. He didn’t like the turn of the conversation. But he pried into her life, so it seemed he owed her some kind of answer. “I was married. I lost her. Don’t need a new wife. End of story.”

  “You lost her?”

  Great. More questions. He should have known she wouldn’t let it end there. “She died.”

  “Oh.” Madeline looked down. “I’m very sorry.”

  “Everyone is. So am I. Can’t spend my life looking back.”

  They rode in silence for a minute. He could feel her watching him from the corner of her eye.

  “You loved her very much, then.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I did.”

  “What is that like?”

  He turned, ready to spit venomous words…then saw her soft, wondering expression. She’d never known love. He could see it in her eyes. And if she married Croft, he suspected she never would. Maybe if she knew, she wouldn’t marry him. She’d look for another way.

  He shoved down the feelings that wanted to smother him, and swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth. “It’s...hard to describe. It feels like your heart is full. So full, it’s overflowing. So full, that it almost hurts. Full to bursting. You don’t just love her...you love the whole world. Everything is brighter, more beautiful, more wonderful. She’s all you ever think about. She’s all you ever want. All you ever need. You’ll do anything for her. Sacrifice anything...anything, for just one more moment...”

  His voice broke, and tears threatened, blurring his vision. He swallowed hard, stuffing down the emotions that he had been stuffing down for years.

  “How...how did you know?” Madeline asked, tenderly. “Did it come upon you all at once, or grow over a long time?”

  “I don’t know how it is for all folks. But for me, it happened pretty quick. I didn’t know for sure right away, but I had a feeling right away. Like somehow in the back of my mind, I knew she was the one. I knew we’d be together...” He almost said forever, but that wasn’t true. Tabitha was gone.

  Clay looked at the way ahead, the hidden beneath the fresh snow. He blinked back the tears that swam in his eyes. Then a he felt the light pressure of a hand on his arm.

  “You were lucky to have had such a beautiful love. No one I’ve ever known has had something that precious. Even for a short time.”

  What does she know? He raged inside. It sounds wonderful to her because she doesn’t know the gut-wrenching heartache that comes from losing someone whose soul is knit to your own. It was all he could do not to tell her that very thing…but he squelched his rising anger, and took her words as the kind gesture they were intended to be.

  Her gloved hand lingered a moment, somehow diffusing his anger…then it disappeared under the furs again. They rode on in silence—a more comfortable silence, this time. All the while, Clay found himself deep in thought, wondering at what a complicated, frustrating, and surprising woman his passenger was.

  Chapter 7

  “There it is.” Clay pulled the sleigh off the road onto a barely-noticeable path that led down into a little hollow between the hills.

  Madeline could see the cabin ahead, smoke rising cheerily from the stovepipe. She thought she could smell bread baking already, and the aroma made her empty stomach growl. A small head bounced up and down in the window as they approached, and soon a tumult of children poured out the front door.

  “Uncle Clay! Uncle Clay!” they shouted, jumping about, glee shining in their faces.

  Madeline counted four of them—two boys and two girls. A woman stood in the doorway.

  “Children, get back in here this instant, before you catch your deaths! You don’t even have boots on—and don’t forget to wipe your shoes on the rug as you go in.”

  Children grumbled and filed back inside, reappearing at the window moments later.

  The woman smiled and waved at Clay. “You had us worried sick!” she called.

  “Bad weather,” he replied as he stopped the sleigh in front of the house. “Had to hole up in Josiah’s cabin.”

  “Oh my! Well, lucky for you I’m keeping stew on the stove. Send your friend in so she can warm up while you take care of the horses.” She smiled at Madeline and disappeared into the cabin, closing the door behind her.

  Clay helped her down from the sleigh, and before she could wonder if she should knock or walk right in, a tow-headed little boy opened the door.

  “Please come in, miss!” He held the door open, and gestured the way inside, with a deep bow and a grin.

  “Oh my, such wonderful manners!” Madeline exclaimed for the boy’s benefit, and smiled at Clay’s sister, who stood by the stove, stirring a pot.

  “He’s been practicing all morning,” the woman laughed. “Wonderful job, Joseph. Now step aside, and all you children give the poor woman some breathing room.”

  The throng of children stepped back reluctantly, but peppered her with questions, which she answered in rapid succession.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “That’s a beautiful dress. Did you make it?”

  “Are you married?”

  “Are you marrying our Uncle Clay?”

  The last question made her blush, but their mother stepped in to save her.

  “That’s enough questions, children. I’m sorry,” she directed this at Madeline. “They don�
�t see guests often. This is my oldest, Martha, who is seven, followed by Lawrence, who is five, Joseph, who is three, and little Mary, who just turned one last month.” The woman pointed out each child in turn.

  Madeline greeted them all, wondering at how many people lived in such a small home.

  “Lawrence, set the table for our guests, please, and then fetch me a bucket of water. Martha, please take Mary into my bedroom and change her. I think she’s wet herself. Joseph, can you sit at the table for Mama and be good?”

  “Yes, Mama.” The tow-headed boy climbed up into a chair with some effort, and beamed at Madeline as he patted the chair next to him, wanting her to join him. The other children bustled off to do their assigned tasks.

  “Whew. Been a busy day. I’m sorry, I’m Caroline. But everyone calls me Cara.” She beamed at Madeline with a smile almost identical to the one worn by her son, Joseph.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m Madeline Barstow.”

  Madeline could see the resemblance between Clay and Cara immediately. Her eyes were wider, her lips a bit thinner. She was very pretty, and if she took the time to use the proper lotions and hair treatments, she could be beautiful. As it was, the plain work dress and worn apron gave Cara an older, more tired appearance—as did the circles under her eyes and the wisps of hair that had escaped her dark blonde bun. But Cara’s was a pleasant face, and Madeline could see that she was a kind and loving mother. It was too bad she was trapped in the wilds of Montana, with no hope of ever frequenting a beauty parlor. What a dreary life the poor woman must lead!

  “I was so surprised to find out that when Clay stayed over on this trip, he’d be transporting a correspondence bride, instead of just delivering packages or supplies.” Cara returned to the stew, stirring it and adding something to the pot. “Ben told me about it when he got back from his supply trip to Helena last week. You must be excited—what an adventure!”

  “Yes. It’s...definitely an adventure.” Madeline gave a tight smile. That’s one way of putting it.

  “Ben is out in the barn. I’m sure he’ll be in after he helps Clay care for the horses.”

  “How long have you two been married?” Madeline asked as she joined the beaming Joseph at the table, causing his little grin to stretch even wider.

  “Oh, about eight years now.”

  “Does it get lonely out here?” Eight years in the wilderness alone seemed like an eternity.

  Cara sighed. “Yes. I love Ben to death, and I’d follow him anywhere, but I do wish we were closer to Helena. I like not living in a town—I hated living in Coulson the first few months of our marriage. It was rough, and dirty, and often dangerous. But Helena is much nicer, and it would be wonderful to live just outside it a bit. Being out this far...well, it has its drawbacks.”

  And the Croft ranch is even farther from Helena. Madeline wondered if any of Mr. Croft’s ranch hands had a wife. Surely there would be a cook or a housekeeper to talk to. The fact that she, Madeline Barstow, was actually hoping for a servant to talk to, was indicative of just how dire her future living arrangements might be.

  Lawrence set two bowls and two spoons on the table, then disappeared out the back door with a bucket.

  “Of course,” Cara continued, “as the girls get older, they’ll be friends to me, and that will be nice. But right now they’re so young, you can’t have a real, adult conversation with them. Ben is so busy hunting and trapping most of the time. And when times get really tight, he spends summers down in Butte, working the mines for some extra money.”

  “Where is Butte?”

  “South of Helena. Far enough that I might only see him for one visit all summer, if that. But that’s only happened two summers so far. I think he’ll be able to stay home this summer.”

  “Weren’t you afraid, being here alone?”

  “Well...yes. It was creepy at night, but you get used to it. And Clay would check in on us as much as he could. He’d stay over when he made deliveries sometimes, and would stay for the weekend a couple of times a month, if his work schedule allowed it.”

  Madeline could scarcely imagine living such a secluded life in Cara’s little valley at all, much less without a husband around. What happened to such women if a tragedy occurred, and the husband never came back? And with four mouths to feed? The thought horrified her. Thank goodness Mr. Croft is set in life. With his holdings and his staff, I won’t have to worry about such things.

  In the back bedroom, a child wailed, while the older one hushed and soothed her. Joseph took one of the spoons and began choo-chooing it around the table like a toy train. Madeline imagined the house must feel very noisy and small on rainy days or during heavy snow, when the children were stuck inside.

  The sound of boots crunching across the snow perked up little Joseph. “Uncle Clay!”

  The door swung open, and the two men stomped off their boots and came inside, carrying the supplies from the sleigh.

  “Just put all that in the corner, Ben.” Cara pointed. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Uncle Clay! Uncle Clay! Uncle Clay! Uncle Clay!” Joseph chanted, jumping down from his seat and hopping from one foot to the other. Throughout the cabin, other children joined in—Martha carting the gurgling, heavy Baby Mary, and Lawrence calling out as he carefully brought in the pail of water through the back door. As soon as Clay had put his burden in the corner, he was swarmed by children, crawling all over him.

  “Alright, alright, settle down you little animals!” Clay limped over to the table—Joseph had wrapped himself around one leg—and settled himself down, only to have them all choke him nearly to death in their attempts to hug him. Even little Mary reached out for his hand, chewing on it. “You’d think it’s been four years since I was here last, instead of four weeks!”

  Cara introduced Madeline to her husband, Ben Miller, a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair, green eyes, and a beard. He looked every inch a hunter and trapper, straight out of a boy’s adventure novel. Madeline would have found his appearance distasteful, had he not possessed such a friendly attitude and a cheery grin—the sort of grin that was infectious to anyone in the room. He was the quiet sort, and though he spoke little more than a sentence or two, Madeline liked him immediately.

  As the children continued to hug their uncle and clamber all over him, Madeline was distracted by the rowdy displays of affection. In Boston society, children were seen and not heard, and were expected to be neat and clean and quiet at all times. Such emotional displays were considered babyish and inappropriate, to be immediately quashed by the firm rule of the governess. Madeline had assumed she’d have a child or two of her own, one day. But this uncouth mob of children? As adorable as they were—despite their unruly behavior—she didn’t think she’d survive a day with such a brood.

  The children lobbed volleys of questions at Clay with just as much vigor as they had at Madeline.

  “How long are you staying?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Why is this lady with you?”

  “Can you give me a ride on your back?”

  “Is this lady going to be your new wife?”

  The last was from Joseph, and the laughter from the adults died down into an awkward silence, except for young Mary’s babbling.

  “What?” asked Joseph, looking from one grown up to another in confusion.

  Cara and Ben cringed, watched for Clay’s reaction.

  “No, Joseph,” Clay cleared his throat. “Miss Barstow is engaged to be married to Mr. Croft, the man I deliver supplies to. I’m just giving her a ride to his ranch.”

  “Why didn’t Mr. Croft give her a ride?”

  Now it was Madeline’s turn to be embarrassed. “I’m sure it’s only because Mr. Croft is a very busy man.”

  “Yes,” Cara chimed in, “he’s probably making sure that his house is well-prepared for his new bride.”

  “Oh.” Joseph laid his head on Clay’s knee. “I missed you, Uncle Clay. You don’t come see
us enough.”

  “I know, little man, but I’m here now, aren’t I?” He ruffled the little boy’s hair. “We’ll just have to stuff a ton of fun into one night. But just give me and Miss Barstow a chance to wolf down some grub, and then you and I will get down and dirty and roll around in the snow.”

  The children’s eyes lit up, and they all let go of him so he could eat and then get on with the playing.

  “You two must be hungry.” Cara took a bowl from the table to ladle stew into it.

  “Starving!” Clay patted his stomach. “I had some food saved for today, but a rat got to it this morning. Some of it was untouched, but I didn’t think Miss Barstow would appreciate me serving it for breakfast.”

  Madeline’s stomach lurched at the thought.

  “Well, fortunately for you both, I made plenty of stew for dinner, so there are lots of leftovers, and it’s still fairly fresh.” Cara brought the first bowl back, setting it in front of Madeline, then took the second bowl, filled it with soup, and gave it to Clay. Then she brought out two crusty rolls and dipped one into each bowl.

  Clay dug in with gusto, but Madeline just stirred it and blew on the steam while Clay and his relatives chatted. She didn’t want to insult Cara, but the food looked far more...rustic...than what she was used to. Her grumbling stomach and sense of proper manners overcame her initial reluctance to taste it, so eventually she gave in and dipped out a tiny spoonful and sipped from the spoon.

  She was surprised. Shocked, really. It was good! A little saltier than she had expected, and a bit gamey, but quite good. There weren’t a lot of spices, but she could taste a variety of vegetables, as well as the stew meat and the juicy broth. She tasted the soaked hard roll, and it was good as well. The loaf was darker than the white breads she was used to, but had a richer flavor.

  Clay was done with his third portion before Madeline’s dainty eating allowed her to finish her own portion. She usually never ate seconds, preferring to keep a trim figure and not appear gluttonous, but the long journey with poor food had her reconsidering, and she accepted a second helping gratefully.