Calico Brides

by Darlene Franklin

  “Nothing like that.” Miss Bliss opened a burlap sack and dumped the contents on the table for his inspection.

  Bliss…what an appropriate name for such a stunning example of prairie beauty, with her halo of golden hair and rosy cheeks. Jeremiah had expected the young woman to have a chocolate cake or maybe dried apple pie in her sack. Instead, she presented him with a woolen cap, mittens, and scarf, all of a durable navy blue that matched his uniform. Next she handed him a pair of thick brown woolen socks. Every soldier could use such practical items. “I could also knit sweaters if they would be of any use.”

  Jeremiah picked up the socks and examined the stitches while Mrs. Peate did the same thing with a mitten. A brief nod informed him of her approval. But Jeremiah had other concerns. “Where did this ‘mission project’ idea come from?” Are we going to be inundated by a lot of do-gooders hoping for a glimpse of the soldiers?

  Miss Bliss opened her mouth, but Mrs. Peate spoke first. “I’m sure you have a lot to talk over. Lieutenant, why don’t you escort our guests back to Calico and discuss your questions along the way? My husband mentioned you had no official duties today.”

  Although Mrs. Peate phrased it as a suggestion, Jeremiah knew better than to disagree. If he felt responsible for the souls of the men at the fort, the captain’s wife felt the same way about Jeremiah.

  He swallowed a chuckle as he remembered his earlier desire for a ride in the open. God’s sense of humor was at work once again, answering Jeremiah’s unspoken request with the unwelcome company of two women. Accepting the inevitable, he brought his heels together and bowed slightly. “Certainly, Mrs. Peate. Miss Bliss, Miss Polson, I will return in a few moments with my horse.”

  Jeremiah considered the two women as he fetched his horse. Why did he find himself drawn to Miss Bliss? Stay away. Focus on things more important than a pretty face, like country and duty and family. The advice he doled out to straying men did little to change the direction of his thoughts. Staying away was easier said than done, since Mrs. Peate had practically ordered him to accompany the women. He prayed for an extra helping of the self-control he had needed since his fiancée’s death.

  When he returned, the sack in Miss Bliss’s hands was empty, and she was prepared to leave. He nodded his appreciation at her readiness.

  “I look forward to seeing you again, Annie. And Gladys, feel free to return as well. I’m thrilled to hear how God is working through your projects.” Mrs. Peate hugged each of them in turn.

  Jeremiah dismounted to help both ladies into their saddles. Mrs. Peate waved good-bye as they headed toward the gate. She would expect a report on what he learned when he returned.

  “Let’s go. The men won’t see you if we leave now, since they’re heading for the mess hall.”

  The women simply nodded, and he was thankful for their sensible response. After the gate shut behind them, the sun came out from behind a cloud and poured its glory into Jeremiah’s soul.

  Stick to business, Lieutenant. Don’t let a pretty face lead you astray.

  The ride back to town stretched out. Gladys was probably thinking about her beau, Haydn Keller. Of course he knew all about the sewing circle’s mission projects—he had to, since his grandfather was the first person to benefit from the love shown in Christ’s name. Annie hoped Gladys wouldn’t reveal her secret project to help the soldiers to anyone else.

  Lieutenant Arnold relaxed in his saddle, looking slightly more human on horseback, but he didn’t speak. If she mentioned her plans to him, she suspected he would scowl at her. Even so, she wanted to communicate her mission to the man tasked with the soldiers’ spiritual well-being. She spurred her horse to come alongside the lieutenant.

  “Lieutenant Arnold.”

  “Miss Bliss.” He didn’t offer any indication that he wished to speak to her.

  Annie chewed her lip while considering what to do next. She decided on a risky move. “My prayer that God will comfort young men so far from home will only succeed with your help. I want us to be friends.” She drew a deep breath. “So please, call me Annie. My friend’s name is Gladys.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gladys’s nod. “And what may I call you?”

  “Bear” ran through her mind. She couldn’t guess which of them would be more embarrassed if she used it.

  His back straightened and the muscles around his eyes tightened, as if trying to recall his Christian name. “You may call me Jeremiah.”

  If he was named after the weeping prophet, they shared more than the vocation of preaching. The lieutenant seemed to carry a heavy weight. But she would make the syllables sing on her tongue. “Thank you, Jeremiah. What would you like to know about my project?”

  He slowed his horse down. “I only saw a few knit items. Well executed, no doubt.”

  The compliment brought a faint smile to Annie’s lips.

  “What kind of help do you need? Why do you need my help?” He stopped, as if realizing how rude he sounded. “Start at the beginning.”

  “Gladys came up with the idea in the first place.”

  Gladys took over the explanation. “Last Christmas, a missionary to China came to speak at our church. The Ladies Sewing Circle decided to support them.” She gestured for Annie to continue.

  “I’ve always done better when I can see what I’m doing.” Heat tickled Annie’s cheeks. “They sent us a picture of the children in their orphanage. They were all so skinny. The first thing that came out of my mouth was—”

  “—they look like the Smith children.” The two women spoke as one, and Annie laughed. A grin flickered around the Bear’s—Jeremiah’s—mouth. He looked much nicer when he smiled.

  Gladys picked up the story thread. “Then Ruth—the schoolteacher, Miss Fairfield—mentioned that every year there’s always at least one family that’s dirt poor. So we decided we wanted to help them, too. When we got to thinking about it, we knew there were several people in town who needed a demonstration of God’s love. So all four of us prayed about what God wanted us to do.”

  Jeremiah pounced on the mention of a fourth woman. “And who is the last member of your quartet?”

  Annie schooled her features not to show the inward wince. How to explain Birdie’s inclusion in the group?

  Gladys came to her rescue. “It’s our local seamstress, Birdie Landry. She does exquisite work.”

  Jeremiah narrowed his eyes, as if he knew of Birdie’s reputation. Annie rushed in before he could make the connection. “Gladys knew what she wanted to do right away—it’s a lovely story…”

  A scowl reappeared on Jeremiah’s face, and Annie hastened on. “But that’s a story for another time. I couldn’t make up my mind on my project until I received a letter from my brother. He doesn’t ever complain, but this time he mentioned how much he missed us at Christmastime. Then I read an article about Fort Blunt in the newspaper”—a wide grin lit up Gladys’s face at the mention of Calico’s first newspaper—“and I knew what I wanted to do. Everyone at the fort is someone’s brother or son or sweetheart, and many of them would welcome a touch of home.” She shrugged. “I’m good with knitting needles.”

  “And so she came up with this marvelous idea.” Gladys beamed.

  “I had a sweetheart once.” Jeremiah seemed surprised that he had spoken aloud. His horse stopped moving altogether at the lack of direction, and the man’s torso twisted, as if he was surprised.

  Annie reached out a tentative hand then pulled it back, biting her lower lip. “What happened?”

  “She died—in a gunfight.” He clamped his mouth shut and offered no further explanation.

  “How awful,” Annie said. The thought that Jeremiah Arnold’s bear persona owed its existence to such a sad occasion made him seem almost human.

  Maybe God intended for Annie to tame the Bear.

  She’d rather face down a firing squad.

  Chapter 3

  Asilent Jeremiah wrestled his memories back into the lockbox where he stored them. The women k
ept quiet while he brooded, a minor miracle. One of the playful memories of his father surfaced. I have it on good authority that there will be no women in heaven.

  And why is that, Mr. Arnold? Mother knew the answer, of course, but she played along.

  Because the apostle John says after the seventh seal was opened, “There was silence in heaven about half an hour.” And I never knew a woman who could keep quiet that long.

  Jeremiah didn’t blame men for wanting the kind of marriage his parents had had. But women like his mother were as rare as a snowstorm in July. His one foray into romance had proved that. Fannie might have died in the gunfight, but their relationship was doomed long before that happened.

  The magnetism in Annie’s face drew his eyes. Curiosity played across her features, maybe wondering what caused his smile a moment ago.

  But she didn’t say a word, not until they passed the nearest farm to the center of town. “Mrs. Peate said you could provide me with information about the number of men in your regiment, but I need pencil and paper ready when you tell me. Why don’t you come ahead to my house? You can rest while I write it all down before you go back to the fort.”

  But I’m not tired. Jeremiah didn’t say the words aloud. Instead, he said, “I don’t want to create additional work for your mother.”

  A smile played around Annie’s lips. “Between my mother and Aunt Kate—she’s not actually my aunt, but we all call her auntie anyhow—they would feed the whole state every day if people would only come by. We always have plenty.”

  “As long as I’m back before taps.” Mrs. Peate would expect him to stay a bit, but also a part of him—a small part, but something he recognized nonetheless—wanted to spend more time with Miss Bliss. Annie.

  They rode into the town proper and passed a large house with baskets of ferns and flowers dangling from the eaves of the porch. The two women grinned like children with a lollipop.

  Annie slowed down the pace of her horse. “Gladys is too modest to tell you herself, but she’s the one who hung all those flowers on Mr. Keller’s house. God surprised us all by sending her to the richest man in town.” She sighed. “I hope God blesses my endeavors with the soldiers as much as He blessed Gladys’s with Mr. Keller.”

  A story lay behind those short sentences. Jeremiah started to ask for more information, like what could a rich man need from this young woman? But before he could voice his curiosity, they reached a corner and Gladys paused her horse. “My house lies down this street. It’s been my pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Arnold. I’m praying for God to bring revival to the fort.” She said good-bye to Annie and turned her horse down the crossroad.

  Jeremiah found himself alone on the street with Annie, subject to scrutiny by any passersby. They had reached the main street. At any moment, someone might appear and start rumors about him or, even worse, about Annie. “Is your house nearby?”

  Annie pointed across Main Street. “Straight ahead a couple of blocks.” She flicked a glance down the street before urging her horse forward. Her horse picked up the pace as if he knew home was only a short distance away. Jeremiah’s mount followed. On the way back to the fort, he would give her free rein to stretch her legs in a long, loping gait. He did some of his best thinking while on horseback, and he had plenty to talk over with the Lord after the events of this day.

  They came to a stop in front of a house painted a cheerful yellow that reminded him of Annie’s hair as well as her personality. Even the tulips blooming around the front of the house were yellow. Yeasty aromas floated through the open window, teasing his taste buds. Jeremiah followed Annie to the barn, where they settled their horses. Back outside, he hurried forward to open the door for her.

  Annie flashed a grin at him and called through the doorway. “Mama, I’m home, and I brought company.”

  “Come on in.”

  Jeremiah followed Annie through the door and spotted a woman who must be her mother. Aside from the silver mixed in among her golden strands, they shared the same wide smile and merry blue eyes. Her gaze took in his uniform. “Lieutenant, welcome to our house.”

  At her word, his shoulders straightened and his back stiffened as if at attention. His one vanity was the success he had made in the army. It was one of the reasons he kept reenlisting, although that decision was looming again before the end of the summer. He was impressed that Mrs. Bliss could differentiate the various ranks in the cavalry. Maybe her son’s service had prompted her recognition of his insignia.

  “Mrs. Bliss, it is my pleasure.”

  Annie bustled around the kitchen. Without any verbal communication, he found himself at the table with two thick slabs of bread and butter and fresh-brewed coffee. Better than anything Shorty the cook had served in the canteen anytime recently. Mrs. Bliss added both sugar and milk to her coffee, took a sip, then turned her pleasant face in his direction. “So what do you think of Annie’s idea? Do the men need socks and mittens and such?”

  Jeremiah wished he could say no. That would alleviate the problems presented by Annie and her winsome ways. Half the young men in the regiment would vie for her attention, and the other half would wish they could.

  But every winter he heard grumbling among the men about the bone-crunching cold of Kansas winters. More than that, Jeremiah saw God’s hand in Annie’s mission. He wouldn’t say no to God, not even when a woman was involved. “The men will welcome the knitted items. Even now, in April, we get an occasional cold spell. My greatest concern is for your daughter’s safety.”

  “I can’t think of a safer place for my daughter than among the men sworn to protect our country.” Mrs. Bliss smiled.

  As if wondering where the food had gone, he stared at the empty plate before him. Annie whisked it away and returned with a slice of dried apple pie with a wedge of cheese, as well as the coffeepot. She topped off his cup before sitting again, this time with paper and pencil in hand. She looked at him expectantly. “How many soldiers are at the fort?”

  Jeremiah calculated the answer. The number varied on a monthly, if not weekly, basis. “The number of officers is fairly stable. In addition to Captain Peate and myself, there’s one more lieutenant and eight sergeants. A couple of them are married.” If he could limit her mission to the officers, perhaps no harm would result from her interference.

  “I discussed that with Mrs. Peate. She suggested I make sets for everyone—maybe even for the wives themselves. I need an exact number of the soldiers and their wives.”

  Cornered, Jeremiah gave her the total.

  Annie jotted the numbers down. “Mr. Finnegan—the owner of the mercantile—has ordered extra yarn.” She turned her hand over, palm up, and studied it. “The men’s hands will be larger than mine, of course. Is anyone an unusual size? Any six-fingered hands?” She grinned at her own joke.

  The conversation continued in much the same vein, her questions stretching Jeremiah’s knowledge of the men under his care. By the time the interview ended, Mrs. Bliss had refilled his plate twice more, once with a ham sandwich, and again with a bowl of bacon-flavored green beans. When she gave him corn bread fresh from the oven, he raised his hand in protest. He was already full enough that he would battle drowsiness during his evening duties.

  Annie frowned at her notepaper. She made a few more calculations and set the pencil down. “I have all the information I need. I should have a good start within ten days. When would you like for me to return to the fort?”

  “That’s not wise.” Jeremiah knew his refusal sounded harsh, but he would not tempt his men, nor would he put Annie in harm’s way. “It would be best if someone from the fort comes here to get them.” Like the next time Mrs. Peate came to town for her shopping.

  “Lovely.” Mrs. Bliss answered instead of Annie. “Plan on taking your lunch with us on Tuesday next.”

  Not me again. But to refuse the invitation would be rude. “I, uh, will of course let you know if anything comes up to prevent my return.” He would prefer a gunfight to facing down
two such charming ladies. History had proven his weakness when it came to women.

  From her spot at the window, Annie watched Jeremiah’s back until horse and rider disappeared from view. He confused her more than any man she had ever met. At times he was as grouchy as a bear intent on finding food. Other times she glimpsed a cuddly cub that was hurting and wanted his mother.

  Children ran and skipped down the street. Where had the day fled that school had already dismissed? With a sigh, she turned back in her mother’s direction. “Do you need help with supper?”

  “No, go ahead and get started on your knitting.” Her mother shooed her out of the kitchen.

  Annie took a skein of navy blue yarn and cast stitches onto the needles. Three rows later she realized she had miscounted the first row, and she unraveled everything back to the first knot.

  Her mother joined her in the parlor and pinned her with one of those looks. “So…tell me.”

  Annie tucked her tongue in her cheek while she finished counting the row. Once again she had miscalculated the number of stitches. She pulled them off the needle with a savage yank. The story about the conversation between the laundress and the “Bear” poured out of her. “I can’t decide whether he’s a bear waking up from his winter’s nap or a bear cub that’s, well…” Heat rushed to her face.

  “As cute as a baby kitten?” Mama’s voice held a hint of laughter. “He’s probably both. No one is all good or bad all the time.”

  “Not even Pa?” Annie dared to ask.

  A faraway look swept across her mother’s face. “You wouldn’t know it to see him now, but he was as rough as a man can be who has spent most of his life only among other men.” Mama picked up one of the boys’ trousers for mending. “And we’ve both heard how grouchy Norman Keller was the first time Gladys visited. Now he’s showing up at Aunt Kate’s diner several times a week.” She winked. “There are a few of us who would love to see the two of them find love the second time around.”