by Kit Morgan
“Thank you,” he told her weakly. “I sure am sorry about this.”
“You can't help it if you're sick. I'm just glad that you're feeling better today. You don’t look as pale, at least.”
“I feel a bit better too. I take it you've met my folks by now?”
Sarah stiffened. “Yes, I have.”
“I hope they didn't give you a hard time. Especially Ma. I figured she might not be too happy when she found out I up and married.”
Sarah took a deep breath. “She was a little upset, yes …”
He took one of her hands in his. “I'm sorry if she acted out of turn. I'll make it up to you, Sarah, I promise. I guess I haven't been much of a husband so far.”
“You haven't had the chance. Please, stop worrying about it and concentrate on getting better.” Her voice was gentle, calming, even to her own ears. She noticed how warm his hand was, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I'd best go see if Mrs. White has your lunch ready.”
He nodded and let go of her hand. “I must be feeling better. Something hot sounds good right now.”
“Wait here and I'll go get it.”
He smiled. “Don't worry, I don't think I'm going to run away anytime soon.”
She smiled back and went to get his lunch. When she returned he’d managed to sit up. She set the tray of food on a dresser, then adjusted his pillows so he'd be more comfortable. She took the bowl of soup from the tray, brought it to the bed and sat. “Do you think you can hold this by yourself?”
“I'll try.”
She helped him hold it, but could tell he was having trouble by the look in his eyes. The man was weaker than he let on. “The bowl’s hot,” she told him as she took her apron and used it like a hot pad. “Let me hold it for you.”
He looked at her and their eyes locked. After a moment, he picked up the spoon and, without taking his eyes from hers, took a spoonful of soup. “You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen on a woman. Actually … you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen on anyone. They’re the most unusual color.”
“Thank you, everyone tells me that,” she said as she blushed.
He took another spoonful of soup and almost missed his mouth.
“Careful now – don't spill,” she said gently.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“Are you tired?” she asked.
He opened his eyes and gazed at her again. “More than I've ever been, but I'll manage.”
“Let me help,” she said and took the spoon from his hand. He looked at the bowl, then at her, and she knew he was battling with his pride. “I'm your wife now. In sickness and in health, remember? So let me take care of you.”
“I suppose it would be wrong of me to argue with the Bible, now wouldn't it?”
“Or at least your wedding vows.”
He smiled. “Sorry you didn't have more of a wedding.”
“I wasn't expecting any more than what we had.”
“But you didn't have a wedding dress.”
“Yes, I did. I was wearing it.”
He looked at the blue calico dress, white apron and shawl she wore. “This is a terrible thing to say, but I can't remember what you were wearing yesterday.” She stiffened, and he wondered what might be wrong. She looked frightened. “At least I remember getting married …”
“Of course you remember that,” she said as she took a spoonful of soup from the bowl and offered it to him. He opened his mouth for her and she started to feed him.
He enjoyed the soup, enjoyed her company more, and almost wished against a speedy recovery. “You make a good nurse.”
She gave him a weak smile. “I've had … a lot of practice.”
“How so?”
She shrugged. “I've been around a sick person or two. Now finish your soup.”
“Mrs. White tells me there’s going to be a town meeting to figure out what to do about the mad matchmaker.”
She stopped, the spoon held in midair between them. “Oh? What brought that on? Have you had meetings before?”
“No, this is the first. I suppose a couple of mail-order brides coming to town unannounced is one thing. Three must be the limit. I guess your arrival tipped the scales.”
She set the spoon in the bowl. “I see. I hope I haven’t caused too much trouble.”
He took the bowl and spoon from her and held it in his lap. “Sarah, I chose to marry you. I've been thinking a long time about getting myself a wife, and you came along at just the right moment. Don't ever think that you're causing trouble for me or anyone else.”
“I'm not sure your mother would agree.”
“Have you seen her since this morning?”
“No, not since she came to Pastor Luke's house. She seemed very upset and left in a huff. Your father was more accepting.”
“Neither one of them has come by yet. I suppose they’re letting me rest, especially after this morning.”
“What happened this morning?”
He held the soup bowl with one hand and took one of hers in his other. “Don't you worry about it – I can handle my folks.”
“How long do you think you're going to stay here?” she suddenly asked. She had to know. The thought of spending the night with his parents was frightening. She'd much rather stay at Pastor Luke’s, and Winnie had said she could. But she was married to Jess and would honor his decision on the matter.
“Personally I’d like to go home today, but Doc White seems to think the wagon ride wouldn’t be good for me. I bet it’ll be a day or two.”
“That's good to hear. Where should I stay tonight?”
“She'll stay with us.”
Jess and Sarah looked up to see Mr. Templeton standing in the doorway. “Pa?”
“Are you feelin’ better, son?” he asked as he crossed the room to the bed.
“Better than yesterday – enough to get some food in me.” He looked at Sarah. “I hear you've met my wife.”
“You heard right.” Mr. Templeton looked at them both. “Congratulations. It might have been nice to attend, but … I suppose you knew what you were doing when you married her. Without tellin’ us, or waitin’ for our blessin’, or –”
“Pa, enough! I did what I thought was best at the time. I'd been thinking about marrying anyway.”
“You must've been thinkin’ about it a lot, to marry a stranger you didn't even send for.”
Jess said nothing and instead took another bite of soup. He didn't want to talk about it anymore – he was going to get enough of an earful when he got home. His mother would no doubt badger him for days. “Sarah's things are at Pastor Luke's,” he finally said.
“I know. I already fetched ‘em.”
Sarah looked at him, eyes wide. “You did?”
“Yup. Now I've come to fetch you. Say yer goodbyes, then meet me out at the wagon, will ya? It’s parked out front.”
Sarah nodded, then looked at Jess with apprehension as his father left the room.
“You'll be fine with Pa, I promise.”
She leaned toward him. “And what about your mother?”
“Pa will see to it that you’re fine with her too.” He gave her hand a squeeze as he gazed into her eyes. “I'll see you tomorrow, you hear? Now go on back to the house with my folks and get some rest. You're looking as tired as I feel, and I'm the one that’s sick.”
She nodded again, and stood without releasing his hand. “Until tomorrow, then.”
“’Til tomorrow,” he said with a smile, his voice weak. He needed to stop talking anyway. He just hoped that by the time he saw his wife tomorrow, she'd still be talking to him.
* * *
“And this is your room,” Mr. Templeton told Sarah as he opened the door. They were on the second floor of the two-story farmhouse. He'd already shown her the parlor, kitchen and dining room downstairs, and the two other bedrooms upstairs. He'd saved Jess’s room for last.
“She is not going to stay in that room!” Mrs. Templeton said as
she stormed up the stairs. “She can stay in the spare room!”
Mr. Templeton rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Harriet dear, what did we discuss this mornin’ with Pastor Luke?”
“I didn't discuss anything! I went to see the sheriff!”
“So I heard,” he said darkly.
“Then you've heard that the town meeting is at six!” she snapped. She turned to Sarah. “This is your fault, I want you to know!”
“It is nothin’ of the kind, woman!” her husband yelled. “Jess married this girl of his own accord, fever or no fever, and I won’t hear another word about it! Miss … er, ah … Jess’ wife is here to stay!”
His wife's brow furrowed. She wasn’t used to him losing his patience, and she knew she’d pushed as far as she dared. “Oh very well, but I'm not going to hide that I'm not happy about it. He should've told us.”
“Granted, it would've been nice if he had. But he didn't, so that’s that. You don't have to take it out on his poor wife – who, I may point out, is now your new daughter-in-law. Treat the girl with some respect. She’s shown our boy nothin’ but kindness. She was feedin’ him his lunch when I got there.”
“Be that as it may,” she huffed, “I still don't like it.” She glared at Sarah. “Stay in whatever room you want.” She spun on her heel and went back downstairs.
A chill ran up Sarah's spine, and she had to fight the tears all over again. What had she gotten herself into? She hadn’t given much thought on the journey west to what her in-laws might be like. Maybe she should’ve. She closed her eyes and sighed.
“Don't mind her, dear. She'll come around in time.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Begging your pardon, sir, but how much time do you think that's going to be?”
Mr. Templeton made a face. “As soon as she figures out how happy Jess is, I expect. You just make sure you make him plenty happy, or there’ll be no peace for any of us.” He went into the room and set her satchel on the bed.
After he left, she examined the bedroom. It was sparse, but clean and orderly. She wondered for a moment if she and Jess would spend the rest of their lives in this house – working the farm, raising their children, and then their grandchildren …
… that is, if she stayed married long enough to do so. If Mrs. Templeton had her way, she'd be out on her ear within the hour.
Sarah sat on the bed, a determined gleam in her eye. She’d just have to make sure that Mrs. Templeton had no reason to doubt her son's decision. No matter what it took, she'd make her new husband happy, and his parents also. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was to take care of people.
Right now was as good a time as any to start, what with Jess unable to do his normal chores around the farm. She'd ask his parents what they were, then make sure they got done so they wouldn't have to worry about doing them themselves. They looked as if they weren't getting any younger, and she wondered if they’d chosen to have a baby later in life, or had been limited to it from living life on a farm.
She’d pondered farm life on the journey west too: the work, the stress and strain of crops gone bad, diseased livestock, cattle rustlers. In fact, she’d thought about it so much she’d had to stop before she conjured up a life of total destitution. It was easier to concentrate on her future husband and nothing more.
An image of Jess as he gazed into her eyes flashed before her, and she sighed. She didn't know him well yet, but she knew he was a handsome man. And a decisive one – his decision to marry her, despite feeling so poorly, was proof of that. She smiled at the thought, then set about the task of unpacking. Tonight she would be sleeping in her new home.
She just wished her new husband was there with her.
Six
“A town meeting to see who the mystery matchmaker is?!” Mercy Vander chirped. “How exciting! Betsy!”
Betsy, the Vanders’ maid, came running into the dining room from the parlor. “Who died?!” she asked in alarm, her eyes darting between her employers.
“No one’s died!” Mr. Vander huffed. “Gads, the way folks are acting lately, you’d think the Crown Jewels were hidden in this town.”
“Horace, you have to admit, this is the most excitement we’ve had in Independence since … er …”
“Since Valentine’s Day, when poor Betsy here was kidnapped by mistake?” he answered sarcastically.
“Oh, dear me! Now Horace, you know how I don’t like to think about such things,” she scolded.
Mr. Vander glanced at Betsy, who had to press her lips together to keep from saying something she shouldn’t. Ever since the infamous Valentine’s Day dance out at the Edmonson farm, the kidnapping was all Mrs. Vander ever seemed to think about – that and having Cecil Winters as her new butler, about which she was inordinately proud.
“Betsy, I’ll want to wear my blue hat to the meeting. You don’t happen to know where it is, do you?”
Betsy rolled her eyes. “Try looking in the mirror, Mrs. Vander.”
Mercy gave her a quizzical look, then did as she asked. “Oh silly me, will you look at that? I’m already wearing it!”
Mr. Vander put a hand over his face and groaned. “For Heaven’s sake, Mercy, pay attention to details!”
“I do pay attention to details, which is why I’m going to the meeting tonight. I bet I can figure out who the culprit is!”
Betsy sighed and turned to Mr. Vander. “Your wife is some kind of trouble, Mr. Vander. Especially if her friends are going to that meeting too. You’d best brace yourself for a storm.”
His eyes widened as he glanced between his maid and his wife, and he groaned again. “Maybe I can find an excuse to stay home tonight.”
“You can’t,” Mercy told him. “For one, you arranged the meeting, and two, you’re the mayor. You have to be there.”
“What was I thinking?” he said as he plopped into a dining chair. “This is that Harriet Templeton’s fault. She had me so flustered this morning, I didn’t know what I was doing!”
“Mrs. Templeton? What does she have to do with anything?” Mercy asked.
“Because that confounded matchmaker sent away for a mail-order bride for Jess Templeton – and now he’s married.”
“What?!” Mercy screeched. “Horace Ulysses Vander! How dare you withhold such information from me!”
He looked at her and grimaced. “It slipped my mind.”
“And you complain about my mind slipping!” she snapped. “Why, that’s the biggest news since … well, that thing I try not to talk about. My nerves, you know …”
“Mm-hmm, don’t we ever,” Betsy agreed. “I bet Cecil could figure out who the matchmaker was if he wanted to.”
“Then why hasn’t he?” Mr. Vander asked.
“Ain’t been no reason to. Them boys keep getting married, and no one else’s been hurt. So why bother? Besides,” Betsy added with a grin, “it’s more fun to speculate.”
“Mrs. Templeton disagrees. She was in a state this morning, I can tell you that!”
“Is she a nice girl?” Mercy asked. “The mail-order bride, I mean – I know Harriet Templeton isn’t. The girl must be special for Jess Templeton to marry her so quickly, especially since he didn’t know she was coming.”
“I think he married her ‘cause he didn’t want to be forced into marrying Bernice Caulder,” Betsy mused. “Mrs. Templeton and Mrs. Caulder have been thick as thieves lately.”
“Has Bernice said anything to Cecil or Professor Hamilton about it?”
“Mrs. Vander, I’m not one to gossip,” Betsy told her, one eyebrow raised.
“I wasn’t asking you to gossip! I was just asking you what Bernice said, if anything, to you. So, did she? Say anything?”
Betsy sighed and shook her head. “I don’t pay no mind to Bernice when I’m there during her lessons. I’m too busy looking at books.”
Mercy took off her hat and set it on the table. “I don’t see why they don’t give that girl her charm lessons here. You should s
peak to Professor Hamilton about it.”
“You mean so you can find out what’s going on between Mrs. Templeton and Mrs. Caulder?” Betsy asked skeptically.
“I said nothing of the kind. I just think a change in environment might spur Bernice on to better her studies.”
“Mm-hmm. I’ll speak to Cecil and Professor Hamilton about it. The only benefit I see is I wouldn’t have to be there if’n they gave Bernice her lessons here.”
“You do that,” Mercy agreed. “Oh dear me, now where’s my hat?”
Mr. Vander shook his head. “Betsy!” he boomed. “Bring me –”
“– a lemonade. Right away, Mr. Vander.” Betsy left the room.
Mercy smiled. “Don’t you just love how she anticipates your every whim?”
Mr. Vander rolled his eyes. “Yes, I do. Now if you could anticipate where you were going to lose something next, you might not need Betsy at all.”
“I’ll always need Betsy and so will you. Now, I must hurry and go tell Martha and Maude what’s going on! They’ll want to go too!”
“I’m sure it’s all over town already – Sheriff Walker was going around, getting the word out. Besides, you don’t want to be around Martha – she’s still ill, I understand.”
“Oh dear, you’re quite right.”
“In fact, that’s part of what has Mrs. Templeton in a dither – she’s claiming Jess married his mail-order bride in a fever and didn’t know what he was doing.”
“What?” she squeaked and jumped at the same time. “How excit … oh, uh, I mean, that’s a horrible thing if it’s true.”
Mr. Vander took a deep breath. “That doesn’t need to get around.”
She gave him an incredulous look just as Betsy came back into the room, carrying a tray with five glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. “Are you insinuating that I would let everyone know such a ghastly accusation?”
“You won’t have to,” he told her. “I’m sure Mrs. Templeton will be letting the whole town know tonight. So no one needs to hear it from you first.”
“And how many folks have heard it from you?” Betsy asked with a crooked smile.
He stood. “No one! Why, I would never …”