The Teacher's Mail Order Bride

by Cindy Caldwell

  “Miss Archer and I have been discussing just that, Mrs. Samson, and I believe we have come to terms with that reality.” Mr. Tate turned toward Rose and their eyes met.

  He may have come to terms with it but she hadn’t. “Not necessarily, Mr. Tate. I—”

  “Come now, Miss Archer. Surely even you can understand the limits of space and funds. And interest.”

  Rose’s pride stung as she pursed her lips and sat down beside Suzanne, who rested her hand on Rose’s and squeezed gently. She leaned over and whispered in Rose’s ear, “Not now, Rose.”

  Michael crossed the desks over to the table. Rose glanced his way and he gave her the slightest nod which she hoped meant they’d discuss the errant students later.

  “And the other issue?” said another of the board members, tugging slightly on Mrs. Samson’s black coat.

  “What? Oh, yes. The other matter.” Mrs. Samson moved closer to Michel, the others shuffling along behind her. She glanced at Rose and Suzanne before turning her back to them and addressing Mr. Tate.

  “And what of your required marriage, young man? This is a local requirement and is non-negotiable if you wish to continue your employment here.”

  “Yes, completely unacceptable,” a red-headed school committee member with buck teeth that Rose didn’t recognize said.

  “Completely improper,” another chimed in, this one in all black just like Mrs. Samson.

  “Ladies, I am doing the best I can. These things take time.” Mr. Tate shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “I can speak to that. With your permission, of course, Mr. Tate.” Suzanne stood and reached into her pocket for the Groom’s Gazette. “Mr. Tate has sent correspondence to two of the eligible women in this publication.” She pointed to one of the advertisements circled on the page she’d opened to, and all of the women leaned forward to peer at it, some raising hand-held spectacles to their eyes as they moved closer.

  Mrs. Samson stood back and lowered her glasses. Clearing her throat, she said, “That is a most unconventional way to find a bride, Mr. Tate. But I suppose in the interest of time, it will have to do. Please ensure that she is a lady of good standing and moral fiber.” She tapped her parasol once more, a habit that was beginning to irritate Rose. “And you realize also that the deadline for this union is also non-negotiable. Four weeks from the beginning of the school year.”

  Rose’s face flushed with indignation. She looked from the nodding group of close-minded women to Michael, who’d reached for his white linen handkerchief and wiped the sheen from his brow.

  He sighed deeply and said, “I do understand, ladies. I mean, I don’t really understand, but you’ve made yourselves clear.”

  Chapter 17

  “This is completely unnecessary,” Suzanne said as they shut the door behind Mrs. Samson and the school board.

  Rose and Michael watched out the window as the group of women walked down the dirt street toward the center of town, chattering the whole way. He turned to her and lowered his eyes, looking away toward Suzanne. He squared his shoulders and crossed the room, picking up the Groom’s Gazette.

  “I don’t understand. Really, I don’t. What danger could I possibly be to anyone, especially with either or both of you here? What kind of a man do they think I am?” He leaned on the table and rubbed the back of his neck.

  Suzanne came around the table and rested her hand on his elbow. “It isn’t personal. I can’t believe that. I do think that it’s just because the Widow Samson has very little else to do but impose her social and moral standards on the only thing that she can control—this little schoolhouse and that committee. Had I known, I would have applied myself. This just isn’t right. In fact, next time they’re open for applicants, I believe I will.” She looked out the window at the retreating cadre with her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed.

  “Thank you very much for your indignance on my behalf, Suzanne. I wish it could be different, that I could have taken my time to get to know someone, to fall in love—it’s in our blood as Italians.” Michael glanced quickly at Rose before looking back toward the Groom’s Gazette. “Now, I don’t even know who I will marry, or if she will be a good match for me. Or I for her, actually.”

  Suzanne folded up the newspaper and put it in her pocket. “We just have to have faith, now.”

  Rose looked at the watch pinned to her dress as she spotted Ben approaching in the buggy. Two o’clock already?

  She narrowed her eyes at Ben, who was traveling much more quickly than he normally did. He jumped down from the buggy, tied the horses to the post and almost ran to the front door of the school house, a white piece of paper flapping in the wind.

  Bursting through the door, he looked at the three pair of wide eyes staring at him. As he caught his breath, he waved what appeared to be an envelope in the air in the direction of Michael.

  “What is it?” Michael asked, crossing over to Ben.

  “I hope you don’t mind, sir, but I was at the post office right before coming over to pick up Miss Rose and they asked me to bring this over to you when they heard I was coming this way.” Ben held the envelope out to Michael.

  He took it, perusing the return address, turning it over in his hands several times. He looked up at Suzanne and said, “It’s not from Boston, so it surely isn’t from my parents. Do you think you could open it for me?”

  Suzanne’s eyes dropped to the envelope, sympathy and understanding in her eyes. “Certainly, Michael. Sit down here, and I’ll read it for you.”

  “Thank you.” He sat down behind the teacher’s desk, rested his elbows on it and dropped his chin into his hands. “I don’t think I can.”

  Ben twisted the brim of his hat in his hands, his eyes wide with excitement. Rose crossed over to him and took his elbow. “Ben, I think we should go.”

  “Not a chance, Miss Rose. This is much too exciting an event. That is, if you don’t mind, Mr. Tate.”

  Michael sighed. “No, I don’t mind, Ben. We all might as well have a front row seat to the show.”

  “Now, Michael, this could be from your future bride. You could pretend to be just a little happy about it,” Suzanne said as she reached for the letter opener on the desk.

  She opened the envelope, pulling out a lavender piece of paper. Rose could smell the perfume from where she was, several feet away, and she backed up a few steps. Its aroma was incredibly strong and she wondered how it could be after having been transported all the way from—well, she didn’t know where.

  Ben, on the other hand, stepped closer, his eyes bright. “That smells divine,” he said, his eyes closed as he sniffed the air.

  Rose stifled a laugh as Michael glanced at Ben incredulously and Suzanne also frowned in his direction.

  “You wanted nothing to do with any of this, remember?” Rose asked as she pulled Ben back by his elbow.

  He pulled his hat down on his head hard and sat in the student desk furthest away from the activity, leaning back in his seat with his arms over his chest. “Well, I’m just taking note,” he said.

  Rose turned back to the desk as Suzanne smoothed the paper out on the desk where she’d sat across from Michael. “Are you ready?” she asked Michael.

  He leaned back in his chair and looked exceedingly uncomfortable, to Rose’s mind. She even felt a little uncomfortable herself, her stomach fluttering in that way she was noticing more and more.

  “Ahem,” Suzanne started. “Would you like me to read it first and tell you what it says, or read the whole thing to you?”

  “Read the whole thing,” Ben said from the back row, and all heads turned at once in his direction. “I mean, if that’s what Mr. Tate wants.” Color crept up his neck as he pulled the brim of his hat down over his forehead.

  “All right,” Suzanne said softly. “It’s from Margery Tanner, who lives in St. Louis. She’s the one who wanted a fresh start, if you remember, Michael.”

  He let out a deep sigh and looked at Rose. “I do rem
ember, yes.”

  Suzanne began to read. “This is what she said:

  Dearest Michael—if I may call you Michael—”

  Ben snorted from behind Rose and she turned around to see him laughing.

  “She just called him Michael, didn’t she?”

  “Maybe extra comments aren’t necessary at the moment, Ben,” Rose said as she held her finger to her mouth, hoping that would shush him. This was hard enough without noise from visitors.

  Suzanne continued.

  I have read received your letter—and those of several other suitors—and kindly appreciate your inquiry. As I said in my advertisement, I’d like to come out west to start anew as I have nothing to keep me here in St. Louis. I am a woman of some means due to the passing of my parents, but I would like to be useful in other ways becoming to ladies.

  I was intrigued with your comments about your profession, and although I haven’t much experience with teachers, I would be happy to be married to one.

  Please send funds for transportation and I will arrive as soon as possible, given the urgent need of your situation.

  Sincerely,

  Margery Tanner

  “Hmmm,” Suzanne said when she’d folded the letter up and placed it back in the envelope.

  “You have a concern or a comment, Suzanne?” Rose asked before she could stop herself.

  “Now look who’s talking out of turn, Miss Rose,” Ben said from behind her as he laughed again.

  She turned and glared at him—his eyes grew wide and he closed his mouth firmly.

  “My only concern—and not too much of one, really—is that you requested a photograph from her and there is none included. Is that something that would be an issue for you? You did write to another, and we could wait.” She held out the letter to Michael.

  He took it from her hand and set it down on the desk in front of him. “I don’t suppose that it really matters, does it? I’d be more concerned that she’s not familiar with teachers. That doesn’t bode well for her education, don’t you think? However, I have to follow through with this or lose my job, and I’m not anxious for that to happen. This is the most expedient manner in which to provide an adequate solution for the Widow Samson. I like it here very much, and if that’s what it takes to stay, I will do it.”

  Rose looked down at her hands, surprised to see she was twisting her handkerchief. She folded it and placed it back in her sleeve, standing and turning toward Ben. “Ben, are you ready to go?”

  He pushed himself back from the desk and stood, tipping his hat at Michael. “Yes, ma’am. Ready when you are. Nothing left to see here.”

  She turned to Michael, shaking her head in apology. “Well, we best get along. We have a big day tomorrow, don’t we?”

  “We sure do,” Suzanne said. “Oh, and Lucy and Lily will be here, too.”

  Rose smiled. “I hope they’re ready for it. It’s a big change.”

  “Let’s hope that I am ready for it, in more ways than one.”

  Ben helped Rose on with her coat and opened the door. “What time do you want Miss Archer here tomorrow, Professor.”

  “If possible, Ben, I’d like to see them both here by seven a.m. A little early never hurts on the first day of school. And, ladies, thank you again for your assistance. I don’t know that I could do it without you both.”

  Ben turned to Suzanne and said, “Can we give you a ride home, Mrs. Davis? We have room in the buggy.”

  “Oh, no thank you, Ben. James will be here to fetch me soon.” She turned toward Michael. “Besides, we have a letter to write, and it best go in the post today.”

  Rose forced a smile and stepped through the door Ben held open for her. As he closed the door behind them, Ben said, “You don’t look too good, Miss Rose. A little green around the gills, I’d say. You all right?”

  Rose did feel a little nauseous. But she’d been waiting for this and working toward it for some time now—the first day of school. Surely that must be why she didn’t feel quite right. Excitement. Nerves and excitement. Yes, that must be it.

  Chapter 18

  Rose thought the sun would never rise and that the night before the first day of school was the longest night of her entire life. She smiled as she remembered that the night before the first day of school had always felt like the longest of her life, even when she was a student. The anticipation was worse for her even than on Christmas morning.

  The nerves hadn’t relented and she’d not been able to eat much supper at all, so she’d gone to her room after singing with her sisters and gone through her wardrobe, having difficulty deciding what to wear.

  As she came upon the last dress, she smiled and ran her hand over the green skirt and green plaid jacket her mother had given her. She held it up by the lantern to get a better look at it as the sunlight was fading quickly. She picked up one sleeve and held it up, wondering why she’d never worn it.

  In the dimming light, she turned to the mirror and held it in front of her, lifting the sleeves with her arms. Ah, now she remembered. When her mother gave it to her, she’d not yet seen any of the newest ladies’ fashions that were in magazines nowadays. Her mother and father had just returned from New York and although her mother had told her it was the latest fashion, all she knew was that the billowing arms were impractical...even for school. But now, she wouldn’t be a student—she could even take her jacket off if she desired, the crisp white shirt underneath it perfectly appropriate for school.

  Hanging it back up carefully in her wardrobe, she searched her wooden jewelry box for a necklace or some sort of jewelry that would match, but gave up when she couldn’t find anything. It wasn’t as if she had much jewelry, anyway, and she was only going to school. But it did matter to her that she give a good impression—to the students, of course.

  She’d finally climbed into bed after asking Maria to wake her a bit early. She and Ben would need to leave very early to be at school by seven a.m. as Michael had requested.

  She hadn’t needed to bother. Now as the sun barely began to turn the black sky a lighter shade of blue, she was up and out of bed. She turned the wick up in her kerosene lantern, struck a match and sighed at the warm glow that covered the room.

  By the time Maria opened the door and poked her head in, Rose was already splashing cold water on her face, the soap invigorating her and making her tingle even more.

  Maria’s eyes widened as she peeked in the door and she opened it wider when she saw Rose smiling at her. “Ah, I saw the lamp was lit and I thought maybe I was late, but you’re early.”

  Rose motioned for her to come in as she dried her face on the towel beside the wash basin. “If I’d known you’d be up so early, I would have brought some warm water for you,” Maria said as she pulled Rose’s comforter over her bed. The girls usually did their own housekeeping in their rooms now that they were grown, but Rose didn’t stop her, knowing that she still liked to take care of them when she could.

  As Maria fluffed Rose’s pillow, she found the worn copy of Rose’s favorite book. Her eyes softened as she flipped through the pages and Rose’s eyes misted as Maria lovingly ran her hand over the inscription Katie Archer had written for her second daughter.

  May this book inspire you to follow your dreams, wherever they may lead you.

  Rose had read it so many times that she could almost see it with her eyes closed, emblazoned in her memory. She watched as Maria gently closed the book and placed it back under Rose’s pillow, covering it up gently and pulling the comforter over the pillow.

  “We all miss her, Miss Rose,” Maria said as she sat back down on the bed. Rose crossed over to her, turning so that Maria could help with her corset—which she dreaded wearing. As Maria pulled at the strings. “Is it working, mi hija?”

  “If the objective is that I cannot breathe, then yes,” Rose gasped as she held onto the footboard of the bed.

  Maria laughed and loosed the laces a bit. “No, not this. The book. Is it inspiring you?”

/>   Reaching for her clothes in the wardrobe, Rose thought for a moment. Was it? Truth be told, she was doing something today she never in her wildest dreams thought she would be doing, so maybe it was. She turned to Maria, her eyes wide. “You know, I think it must be. I never expected that I’d be helping in the school. Not long ago, I was just milking cows and gathering eggs. This never even crossed my mind as a possibility.” She slipped her shirt over her head and Maria stood and crossed to her, pulling it over her corset and buttoning her sleeves.

  Maria reached for the skirt, helping Rose to step into it and fastened the button in the back, smoothing it down as she went. She reached for Rose’s shoes, loosening the laces and rubbing them once over quickly with the towel on the vanity, the black leather shining.

  As she pulled on her boots, Maria said, “Things happen just when they are supposed to, Miss Rose. It’s perfect, and I’m happy for you.”

  Rose turned and hugged Maria, who wiped at Rose’s tears with the corner of her apron.

  She held Rose’s chin in her hand and said, “Your mother would be very proud of you, and so am I. School is very important, and people need to know that. Everyone needs to go, whether their parents need them at home or not.”

  Rose stiffened as her eyes widened. “Do you know about that?” she asked. She had never heard anyone speak that way—everyone assumed that all children went to school like she did, she supposed.

  Maria sighed. “I know it is hard for you to believe. Your parents were very supportive of you girls going to school. That’s new, too. In my day, girls were not allowed to go to school. Wasn’t important. We only learned to cook, clean and take care of children.”