Kate stretched out her arms. Sally went to her, and they hugged each other. “I’m sure he’s got a clever reason; he never acts impulsively. Let’s be thankful for how much money your bonnets raised for the fund.”
“I can’t go out there. People will think I put him up to it. They’ll think. . . I don’t even know.” Sally looked into Kate’s sympathetic eyes. “They’ll think he’s courting me, won’t they?”
“Isn’t he?”
“I don’t know,” she wailed. “I just wish someone else had bought a sunbonnet.”
The bell jingled above the door, and Malcolm entered. “Is Sally okay?”
She buried her face into Kate’s shoulder. She couldn’t look at him.
“I’ll take care of her,” Kate said. Sally felt Kate motion to shoo him away.
“Would you like me to punch him in the nose, Sally?”
Trust Malcolm to make her feel better. “No!” She laughed in spite of herself. “But thank you.”
“They’ll be bidding on the pies soon,” he said. “I’ll see you then.” He shut the door with a click, and the mercantile went silent.
Kate rubbed Sally’s arm. “What do you want to do?”
She felt wrung out. “Find out who’s won my pie. It’s wrapped in a plain white pillow slip with a sunflower on top.”
They returned to the auction, where Mr. Finch had just announced Rev. Cummings as the winner of the suckling pig. “Raise him up and you could have bacon next year.”
The reverend’s daughter Grace began to cry. “I don’t want to kill the piggy.”
A murmur of sympathy moved through the crowd. Grace carried the pink creature to her spinster aunt who frowned at her brother and took her niece and the piglet home.
“Here’s a novel item you don’t see very often.” Mr. Finch fumbled with a collapsing pile of sticks and bellows.
“Hey,” Kate cried. “What are you doing with my bagpipes?”
He pretended innocence. “These are yours? They came from an anonymous donor.”
Kate put her hands on her hips and looked about the people gathered around him. “All I can say is the donor better be bidding.”
Ewan sheepishly handed Mr. Finch a silver dollar. “We need to keep harmony in the family, whether this instrument will provide it or not.”
The congregation roared. “Won’t you play a little song, Mrs. Murray, to entertain us while we get the pie auction organized?”
“Thank you, Mr. Finch. I’d be glad to.” Kate stepped up, adjusted her instrument, blew hard into the bellows to engage the low drone, and played a fair representation of “Amazing Grace.”
“She sounds much improved.” Sally said to Mrs. MacDougall. The woman had proud tears in her eyes.
“She’s been practicing. My Kate’s a determined young woman, as you know.” Mrs. MacDougall darted a look at Sally. “And my Malcolm is a fine and honorable man.”
“I know,” Sally whispered. “He’s a problem solver and so steady and helpful. I feel safe when I bring a concern to him.”
“Mark my words. When Malcolm loves, he loves deeply. Don’t break his heart.” Mrs. MacDougall hurried to help with the pies.
Sally’s mouth dropped open in surprise, while the thrumming grew stronger in her chest. Could Mrs. MacDougall be right? She surveyed the crowd, suddenly anxious. What had become of Malcolm?
Chapter 9
Malcolm returned to the back of the crowd after helping Grace Cummings find a spot in the family barn for her piglet, which she had named Hamlet.
His mother held aloft the first item as Mr. Finch extolled the virtues of a cherry pie with a red gingham bow. The young man who ran the livery stable started things hopping when he shouted “four bits.”
Josiah jumped in with five while a man in a white hat from Clarkesville bellowed six. “I haven’t tasted a good cherry pie in years.”
Mr. Martin bid seven, but Josiah’s ten silenced him. Malcolm pulled the coins from his pocket. He had two silver dollars to spare. He shouted them out.
The crowd silenced, and then Josiah raised him. No one said a word, the gavel came down, and the fine cherry pie went to the young banker.
Malcolm set his jaw and blinked several times, tightening his fists and wishing he’d saved more than two dollars. He heard children playing by the creek and picked up his bag of flutes. Time to swallow his own disappointment and pass them out to those who needed encouragement.
Eight children swarmed him when he reached the creek. Two knew exactly what to do and began piping immediately. The rest needed help to spread their fingers across the holes and a demonstration on how to play. Their excitement made Malcolm’s sore heart lighten.
One boy attended Ewan’s class and tried to teach them how to play the school’s signature tune, ‘Joy to the World.’ Malcolm sat on a rock watching until his sister hustled up.
“What are you doing? Get up there. Her pie is nearly the last one to be auctioned.”
“Who’s pie? I only wanted Sally’s.”
“Exactly. Sally’s pie is in a white cloth with a sunflower on top.”
“I thought she made a cherry pie with a gingham ribbon.”
Kate laughed. “No. You should have seen Josiah’s face when Lena took his arm. She made the cherry pie, not Sally.”
Malcolm ran back to the church, just as Mr. Finch raised his gavel on two bits.
“A silver dollar,” Malcolm shouted.
Josiah glowered at him, Sally stood tall and smiled, and Mr. Finch brought down the gavel. “Eight bits. You’ve won yourself a wild blackberry pie, Mr. MacDougall.”
Behind him, Ewan pretended to faint in relief.
Sally’s rosy face beamed as she approached him. “Thank you for not letting me be embarrassed,” she whispered. “Old Man Reynolds was the only bidder.”
Malcolm looked to where the crippled farmer slumped against a cottonwood tree. “Let’s share a piece with him.”
So giddy at winning the pie, Malcolm gave half of it to the eighty-year-old bachelor.
“Thank you, Malcolm,” he said. “You’ve always been a generous young man.”
They joined Lena and Josiah at a table. His teeth were red from the cherry juice, and he growled a greeting.
Lena cut him another piece, her face a wreath of happiness.
“Why did you buy all my bonnets?” Sally asked.
“Purely a business proposition. The Clarkesville haberdasher asked me to buy them. The Sterling fund makes money, and I’ll turn a little profit selling them to him. He, obviously, expects to do the same. I told you, these bonnets can be a foot in the door for selling your creations in Clarkesville.”
Sally picked up her wild blackberry pie pan. “How dare you?”
“What do you mean? I’ve marketed your creation. All sorts of women will want you to sew for them after this. These bonnets can be a good start to the business you said you wanted.”
Sally put one fist on her hip and leaned toward him. “Are you going to put your ‘profit’ into the funds box?”
Josiah put up his hands. “I’ve already contributed plenty by buying them in the first place.”
Malcolm stirred. He didn’t like how she balanced the remains of his pie on her fingertips. “Let me take the rest of the pie. I haven’t had a slice yet.”
Joe, Anna, and their younger siblings burst into the area before the church, piping shrill whistles on their flutes. Several Fairhope children ran off to get their flutes, and before long “Joy to the World” rang in the square.
Kate stepped forward to shout over the noise. “The dance is about to start. Finish your pie!”
Malcolm lunged for his.
“I didn’t mean for it to slip like that.” Sally stared at the blackberry mess in Josiah’s lap.
He sputtered and shoved back his chair, nearly upending it. Lena ran for a cloth.
“I’m so sorry, Josiah,” Sally began.
Malcolm’s dog Sport lapped at the juice.
&n
bsp; Malcolm slumped. “My pie.”
“I would have given you everything you ever wanted,” Josiah sputtered. “Beautiful silk clothing, a house, a buggy. With my business savvy and your creativity, we could have built your business together. But you never appreciated my efforts. Every time I tried to get close, Malcolm was there, worming his way into your affections. What type of man do you really want?”
She looked between them. Wild blackberry pie juice stained Josiah’s once pristine clothes.
Malcolm sat clean and neat, an empty plate waiting beside him for a slice of pie he’d never get. Which did she prefer, a quiet man with workman’s hands, or a fine gentleman with clean fingernails? She saw Pa heading toward them.
“I appreciate the qualities both of you have,” Sally said slowly. “You’re both businessmen who care for those in need in your own ways. I realize you’re offering me a beautiful life, Josiah, with plenty of fashionable hats, but I’ve decided I’m really a sunbonnet girl. There’s no question in my mind.”
Malcolm slowly lifted his head as understanding dawned, and his well-loved face split into a grin. Ewan’s sweet fiddle began the Virginia Reel. Children ran among them piping their flutes; the dog lifted his now purple muzzle to howl.
“Choose your partners,” Ewan called from the church steps.
Malcolm rose and bowed. “A hard-working sunbonnet girl you are.”
Sally curtseyed.
“May I have your hand?” He colored. “I mean, may I have this dance?”
She laughed, joy filling her soul, and she placed her hand in his. “The answer to both is yes.”
He led Sally to the dance area and looked deep into her eyes. “I would like to work with and for you always. Will you marry me?”
Sally tilted her head. “You’re not so tongue-tied now.”
“No. Will you?”
“Yes.”
Ewan’s fiddle set their feet, and hearts, a dancing.
And not once did Sally’s sunbonnet slip off her head.
Michelle Duval Ule is the daughter of a businessman and a teacher. A native of San Pedro, California, she learned to sew at a young age and for many years only wore dresses made by her seamstress grandmother. She and her family live in Northern California where she dances Zumba most mornings. You can learn more about her at www.michelleule.com.
You also can read about Ewan and Kate’s musical courtship, as well as Malcolm learning math, in Barbour Publishing’s The Yuletide Bride, part of The Twelve Brides of Christmas collection. Find out more here: www.12Brides.com.
The Wildflower Bride
Amy Lillard
Chapter 1
The Ozark Mountains
Calico Falls, Arkansas, June 1871
Maddie?” Grace Sinclair poked her head through the door of the downstairs guestroom then stepped inside.
Her sister whirled around, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. She ran trembling hands down her pale blue wedding gown. The satin fell in beautiful folds, edged with a cream-colored lace that suited her sister so well. It might be all the rage for the bride to wear white these days, but no one ever accused Maddie Sinclair of being like everyone else. Her younger sister was her own person, through and through. “Is it time?”
Grace nodded.
“Is he out there?”
“I haven’t looked, but I don’t think Prissy would have sent me to get you if he was missing.”
Maddie nodded and swallowed hard.
“You’re shaking,” Grace said, taking her sister’s hands into her own. “And cold.” It was a beautiful June morning yet Maddie’s fingers were like ice.
“I’m nervous.” Maddie warbled out a smile.
“Not about his love for you?”
She shook her head. There had been a time when Maddie had worried about Harlan Calhoun’s love. Or rather, the honesty of that love. But Grace supposed that’s what happened when a young woman plied the man she loved with cookies doctored up with a love potion. Suspected love potion, she corrected. It turned out that the herbs Maddie had traded her second-best dress to Old Lady Farley for were no more than ground nutmeg and vanilla bean, with a little cinnamon thrown in for good measure.
And that Harlan’s love for her was real.
“Then what’s wrong?”
Tears welled in Maddie’s dark green eyes. “Nothing. Everything. I’m sad and happy and nervous and. . .” She shook her head.
“Sad because Mom isn’t here with us?”
Maddie nodded.
Grace could only imagine how her sister felt. And it was a feeling that she herself would never get to experience. She wasn’t being pessimistic, just realistic. That was her, Pragmatic Grace Sinclair, destined to be an old maid. Though she preferred to think about it as giving her life to the Lord. Her destiny had been revealed long ago. She would stay in Calico Falls, never marry, and continue to help her father with his church.
She pushed those thoughts away and lifted her sister’s chin. “Don’t cry. It’ll make your eyes all red. That’s not how you want to spend your wedding day, is it?”
Maddie shook her head, her dark brown curls swaying with the motion. Even with tears in her eyes and her lips red from where she had bit them, Maddie was the prettiest bride Grace had ever seen.
“Then come on now.” She passed Maddie a handkerchief. “Dry your eyes. Harlan’s waiting. It’s time to get married.”
At the mention of her beloved’s name, the sunshine broke free of the clouds, and Maddie’s face lit up with a perfect smile. “Harlan,” she repeated, her words a whisper of awe.
She wasn’t jealous, Grace told herself. Envy was a sin. She was glad that Maddie had found the happiness that every woman deserves.
Then why can’t you have it? That tiny voice inside her asked.
Because I’m fated to something different. A higher calling. At least, she liked to think of it that way.
Maddie took a deep breath and smoothed her skirts once again. “I’m ready.” She smiled and held out her arm for Grace to take, and together the two of them made their way out to the back porch.
Birds chirped from above, the light wind rustled the leaves in the trees, and sunshine sparkled on everything it touched. God had spared no beauty on this day.
Across the yard a trellis had been set up, intertwined with colorful wildflowers and green ivy, the perfect backdrop for the joining of two lives.
And in front of that white-painted trellis stood their father. Pa blinked back tears. Grace understood. She had already shed a few of her own. But he managed to keep them at bay as he waited to marry his youngest daughter to the newest member of the community, Harlan Calhoun, attorney at law.
Harlan shifted from one foot to the other as Maddie and Grace approached. He looked nervous, happy, and little bit sick. And next to him stood—
Grace stumbled. Beside her, Maddie gasped and clutched her arm a bit tighter as if her grasp alone could keep Grace upright. She recovered quickly, managing to steady her steps, thankful she hadn’t fallen flat on her face in front of half the town of Calico Falls. Later she would blame it on the uneven ground and the new shoes she had sent for, just for this occasion, but the truth of the matter was standing right in front of them. Suit-cut jacket and vest, pristine white shirt, wide black tie, and kilt.
The man was wearing a kilt. Somehow on him it was attractive, earthy and real, though she had never seen a man dressed like that before. Their laidback Arkansas town had everyone dropping the formalities that were often found in the big cities, like such formal dress at a morning wedding. Not that they were lax, but just a little less. . .ceremonial. If there were any Scottish residents in Calico Falls, she couldn’t think of even one. And they surely didn’t go around dressing like that.
To make matters even worse for her heart, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Dark, rusty hair the same color as her father’s favorite horse, broad cheeks, thin nose, and eyes that even from this distance she could tell were as blue as the s
ky above them.
But she already knew his story. His name was Ian Mc-something and he lived back East. He was Harlan’s best friend and had only come to Calico Falls for the wedding. He was staying less than a week and then heading back.
Why, oh why, Lord? Why was the only man since grade school who had set her heart to fluttering the one man she could never have?
Ian watched the bride approach. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He was facing the direction from which she was coming. Yet it wasn’t the love of his best friend who captured his attention but the woman at her side.
He had only just arrived in Calico Falls the night before and hadn’t had a chance to meet all of Maddie’s family. But he suspected that the blond-haired dream walking next to Maddie Sinclair was none other than her sister. Grace.
Grace. What a fitting name for such a lovely creature. Ach, she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen, or as his grandfather, Athol, would say, “A bonnie lass indeed.”
During the actual ceremony, he found himself staring at her instead of paying attention to the service. He missed his prompt to give Harlan the ring and despite his friend’s personal excitement on the day, Ian suspected that Harlan knew. He hadn’t gotten to be the best attorney in these parts without being sharp enough to see what was straight in front of him.
“I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Harlan tugged his bride a little closer and cupped her cheeks in his hands before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. His hands shook with happiness and what Ian was sure was a bit of groom jitters, but he would have traded places with him for almost anything on God’s beautiful earth. Well, if Grace Sinclair could trade places with her sister.
Ian tried not to visibly shake his head. What was wrong with him? He was contemplating marriage and he hadn’t even talked to the woman. Never mind that he was leaving in a couple of days. His original plan had been to stay the whole week, but summer rains had delayed his journey from the start, and just before he left, he was approached by the First Church of Albany, the largest and most prestigious church in Albany, New York. It was a progressive church, looking for young leaders to take them into the turn of the century. Well, so that wasn’t for another thirty more years, and by then he would be anything but young, but the offer was too good to turn down. They wanted him back by Sunday’s service to get started in his position as the assistant pastor there. That meant leaving Monday, Tuesday at the latest, to give him plenty of time for the journey and then to prepare for his sermon.
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