Mail Order Millie

by Katie Crabapple

  Chapter Two

  After the quick wedding, they were hurried out of the church. His four youngsters followed behind them. She looked at them, trying to guess their ages. The oldest was a girl and looked to be around seven. She was holding the hand of the youngest, who couldn’t have been more than two. The youngest was also a girl. The two in the middle were boys.

  She smiled at them, and realizing they couldn’t see it, she pulled her veil off her face. She’d have to remember to return the veil to Agnes the next time she was in town. “Hello,” she said to the children. The only words she’d exchanged with her new husband had been part of the wedding ceremony. She certainly hoped he usually talked more, because she could go crazy pretty quickly with only small children to talk to.

  He took her hand and helped her into the wagon. The children all climbed into the back with the oldest helping the youngest up. “What are your names?” she asked.

  The oldest smiled at her uncertainly. How long had their mother been dead? Had he mentioned that in his letter? She tried to remember his exact words. Six months she thought he’d said. Even accounting for the time they’d corresponded, she couldn’t have been dead for over eight months. Were the children even ready for a new mother?

  “I’m Patience,” the eldest said. She pointed to the next in line. “That’s Michael and that’s Jacob,” she said pointing to the younger boy. She clutched the baby sitting on her lap tighter. “The baby is Grace.”

  George had started driving during the introductions. She knew she should be paying attention to her new husband and where they were going, but she was more concerned with the children. “How old are you, Patience?”

  “I just turned seven last month,” she replied softly.

  “You’re going to be a big help, then, aren’t you?” Millie wanted this little girl to know she’d do her best to be a good mother to her. Including her seemed to be the way to do that.

  Patience nodded. “Papa says after you learn how we do things, you’ll start teaching me. I can’t wait to learn to read.” She paused. “Mama just started to teach me before she died. I learned how to write all my letters, but didn’t get to learn to read yet.”

  “We’ll do it together. I appreciate you being willing to help out for a couple of weeks more, though. It’ll be nice to learn the ropes from someone who knows what she’s doing so well.”

  Patience sat up a little straighter as she smiled. “I’m happy to do it,” she said.

  The drive to the farm took longer than Millie had expected. They were much further from town than she’d hoped. “How far is it to the farm?” she asked George.

  “It’s four miles,” he answered shortly.

  Her husband obviously was a man of few words. She stared straight ahead, wondering what she could say that would interest him. “I’m surprised the weather is so pretty with it being April and all. I thought it would be colder here.” Weather was always a safe topic, wasn’t it?

  He shrugged. “Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. We could still get another blizzard or two, but it’s not likely.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Do you get blizzards often here?” She hadn’t thought much about what the climate would be like in Minnesota. She was sure she’d studied about it in school, but she couldn’t remember a thing. Minnesota was one of the newest states.

  “Some. We make it through.”

  She sighed. Hopefully he was just shy and they’d talk more as they got to know one another.

  He stopped the buggy in front of a small farmhouse the boards a dull gray from the wind and rain. Millie stared in surprise. Why had she pictured a large two story house, painted white, with flowers planted all around it? This house was nothing like that. Judging by the size, it couldn’t have been more than two or three rooms.

  She waited for him to come around and help her down from the wagon, but he immediately went around and unhitched the horses instead. She hadn’t expected an instant romance, but she felt like she was being frozen out for some reason.

  She got down from the wagon and went around to the back to take the baby from Patience. “Let’s go inside and you can all show me around,” she said enthusiastically.

  The three older children climbed down from the wagon watching her. Finally Patience held out her hand. “I’ll show you.” Michael and Jacob trailed along behind them while Millie carried Hope. “There isn’t much to see.” They stepped into the house and Millie felt her heart catch in her throat. Filthy was too clean a word for what she saw. She would have thought they’d make an effort to clean for her arrival.

  “This is the kitchen,” Patience said. Millie looked around. There was a nice stove, covered completely in dishes. “We have a well just outside the back door.”

  There was a large basin for washing dishes. She’d have to see to them as soon as she’d changed. She turned to Michael and Jacob. “Would you boys start bringing in some water from the well? Looks like I need to start off by washing some dishes and scrubbing up the kitchen.”

  There was a work bench with shelves under it for storing dishes. She could see some nails had been driven into the wall to hang the pans. Two large wooden shelves stood to the right of the work bench with tin containers for flour, sugar and other essentials. She was happy to see there were some spices as well. The set-up would work well for her as soon as she got it clean enough to be able to work in.

  There was no sitting area, just a kitchen and a table and chairs. Patience led her to the first door opening off the main room. “This is Papa’s room.” The bed was unmade and the wood floor looked like it hadn’t been scrubbed in the months since his wife died. There was a thick quilt jumbled up at the bottom of the bed. It, too, was filthy.

  Patience led to the next room. “This is my room. Papa said we’ll be sharing it for a while.” She smiled at Millie as she said that. “I like the idea of sharing a room with you and Gracie.”

  Millie’s eyebrows drew together. He was planning on her sleeping with the girls? He didn’t want a wife. He wanted someone to clean and look after his children. She stiffened her spine.

  Patience led her to the stairs leading up to the loft. “The boys sleep up there.” She didn’t climb the stairs to the loft, and neither did Millie. There was no point, when there was so much more needing to be done first.

  That was all there was. A kitchen and eating area, two bedrooms and a loft. She swallowed hard. Why had she pictured herself living in the lap of luxury? She couldn’t have been more wrong. Still, this was her new home and it would look as good as she could make it look.

  “I’ll go get my things from the wagon, so I can change and get to work. Would you mind watching the baby while I get the kitchen cleaned up enough so I can fix supper?” she asked.

  “Of course not. Papa said I need to help you.”

  Millie handed the baby to Patience and walked out the door to the wagon. Her bag was still in the back where she’d put it. She looked around for George, but there was no sign of him. Apparently, he’d gone back to work and expected her to start working as well. This was some wedding day.

  She swiped at the tears pricking her eyes. Sure, she’d known she wasn’t marrying for love, but she’d at least expected him to talk to her.

  She carried her bag into the room she’d be sharing with Patience and Grace and changed into a work dress, slipping a new apron over her head. She quickly pinned up her hair into a bun so she could work without it getting in the way. She left the bedroom and went into the kitchen. There were two large pots full of water and another bucket full on the dirty wooden floor next to the stove.

  Rolling up her sleeves, she removed the dishes from the stove, so she could heat the two pots of water. As soon as they were started, she pulled the dishes out of the basin and put them on the table with the dirty dishes from the stove. There was a bar of lye soap on the workbench, so
she scraped off a bit of it and put it in the empty basin.

  “Do you want me to dry them?” Patience offered. “I put Gracie down for her nap.”

  Millie turned to the girl with a smile. “I’d love that. We can talk and get to know each other while we work.”

  Millie saw the water was boiling and emptied the first of the heavy pots of water into the basin, pushing the other to the middle of the stove so it would heat faster. “You have a lot of dishes and pots. I’ve never seen so many!”

  Grace shrugged. “Most of them aren’t ours. They need to go back to the church ladies who have been bringing our suppers.”

  “I see,” Millie said with a sigh. “Why don’t you put the ones that need to go back to town in a separate stack, and we’ll take them tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  As they worked, Millie began to understand her new family through Patience’s words. She was obviously shy, but warmed up quickly and answered Millie’s questions. It seemed the spark had completely left her father when his wife died. The house and the smaller children were left to Patience who was not equipped to deal with them. She had helped her mother with the cooking and cleaning, but had no idea how to do it on her own.

  It had been everything she could do just to keep the kids in line. She’d done her best by the younger ones, but had really accomplished nothing around the house. Millie smiled and told her it was all okay. “We’ll do it all together now, and it won’t seem like such a hard task.”

  It took over an hour and all the water to get the dishes cleaned. She put them next to the door to load in the morning and take back to town. “Where can I find food to cook for dinner?” she asked. Hopefully there would be something easy to fix, because she hadn’t done a lot of cooking. She was so thankful for the lessons the cook at the orphanage had provided as soon as she’d announced her upcoming marriage to a man with four children.

  Patience got a lantern and led her outside to the root cellar. After going down the stairs, she looked around and sighed. There were numerous jars of meat, fruit and vegetables. There were even potatoes and carrots kept in a bin. She could do something with all of this.

  Carefully choosing which vegetables and meat, she decided to make a stew for supper. It was simple, and she could probably do it without messing up. She had several recipes she’d received from the cook in the orphanage, but for the most part, would be experimenting on her own. Hopefully she could manage the simple meal.

  She filled her arms with the jars she’d use and carried them up the steep wooden stairs. Patience led her with the lantern. Once they were inside, she took the second largest pot of the ones owned by the Stevens family and set it in the middle of the stove. She’d reserve the largest for heating water, of course. She opened the jar that was labeled pork, and dumped it into the pot. She drained the jar of green beans, and peeled the potatoes and carrots, cutting them into cubes.

  She added water and threw everything together in the huge pot. Glancing at the dusty clock on the mantle, she saw that it was four in the afternoon. Hopefully she would be able to have everything ready by half past five or so. She didn’t know what time George would be in from the fields, so she had to assume that would work for supper-time.

  She went into her bedroom and found the stack of recipes she’d written out with the guidance of the cook from the orphanage. Thumbing through them, she found one for biscuits and carried it into the kitchen. She read through the ingredients and checked to see if she had them. She was in luck. There wasn’t much flour left, but what she had should be enough to fix this one meal. She could buy more flour when she went to town the following day.

  The boys played outside, and Patience played with little Grace, while Millie struggled through making biscuits for the first time. The measurements on the recipe were difficult to manage. The cook didn’t use regular measurements for anything. Two handfuls of flour. The cook’s hands had been bigger than hers. She used three handfuls. A pinch of salt. What kind of measurement was a pinch?

  She threw everything together and mixed it well, putting the biscuits into the stove and hoping they’d come out right. She peeked at them every few minutes to be sure they didn’t burn. Stirring the stew, she realized it was way too soupy, so she mixed a little flour with water, the way she’d seen Cook do, and mixed it into the stew. Stirring it again, she realized it was about the right consistency. She continued to cook it, off to the corner of the stove where it wouldn’t be as hot.

  Removing the biscuits from the oven, she poked one. It didn’t seem to be rock hard. Maybe it would be okay.

  She got a rag and scrubbed off the table, making it shine. The wood was pretty when it was clean, she thought. She set the table carefully. There were enough dishes so that each of them had one plate, one bowl, and one tin cup. There were spoons and forks enough for all, and one butter knife they could share. That should be good.

  She found Patience playing on the floor with Grace in their bedroom. “Is there milk I can put out for supper, or should we just drink water?”

  Patience smiled in anticipation of a good meal. “Michael will go milk the cow. It’s time anyway. Then we can have milk.”

  Millie went to the door to call the boys. “I need you to milk the cow, Michael. Jacob, come in and wash up for supper.”

  Both boys scurried to do what they were told. Millie smiled. It was a relief to have the children obey her immediately. She would have hated to have to punish them her first day there.

  By the time Michael was back with the milk, she had everything on the table. She’d gulped down a biscuit since she hadn’t eaten since the previous evening, and it had turned out fine. It was a little heavy, but it was certainly edible and didn’t taste bad.

  “Do you know what time your pa will be back?” she asked Michael as he put the pail of milk in the basin.

  “He was in the barn. It should be just a minute or two.”

  She poured milk into the cups, hoping George was okay with drinking milk with his dinner. She didn’t see anything else she could make for them. He didn’t own a coffee pot, and she wasn’t a coffee drinker anyway.

  George walked in the door and stopped short. The house wasn’t spotless, but at least the kitchen was clean and the dishes were done. “You’ve worked hard today,” he said. He went to the basin that still had water in it from the dishes earlier and washed his hands. He carried the water to the back door and threw it out the door.

  She nodded smiling at his compliment. “Supper’s ready. Go ahead and sit down and I’ll serve us all.”

  The children scrambled into their seats, and George took his seat at the head of the table. She went to the stove and carried their bowls of hot stew to everyone. Once she was seated, she picked up her spoon. The children stared at her with wide eyes.

  “We wait to thank God for our meal before we eat,” George said. His voice was calm and even with no censure.

  She dropped her spoon, her face turning red. She couldn’t believe he’d corrected her like that in front of the children. She bowed her head and waited.

  “Thank you, Father, for this meal you’ve provided for us. Thank you for sending Millie to us to be a part of our family. Amen.”

  As they lifted their heads, she picked up her spoon. “Did you get a lot done in the fields today?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Not as much as I would have liked with going to town and all, but I got some done. I’m trying to get as much plowing done as I can while the weather is nice.”

  “What do you grow here?”

  “Corn and wheat. We have some pigs and two cows for our own needs. I usually butcher two or three hogs every fall for some extra money. Martha always put in a kitchen garden, and you’ll need to do the same.” He paused as he broke a biscuit in half. “Mainly we make our money from the corn and wheat.”

  She took a bite of the st
ew and had to fight to keep from spitting it out. It was too salty. She hadn’t added a single bit of salt. Why was it too salty? She took another bite, hoping she could get used to the taste.

  George spooned up a bite of the stew and she mentally cringed, waiting for him to complain. He made a face. “Stew is too heavy on the salt.” He said it in a mild voice, but Millie felt as if she’d been yelled at. She knew the stew was terrible.

  “I know, but I didn’t even add salt. I don’t know why it’s so bad.” She stared at her bowl with a confused look on her face.

  His eyes widened. “It’s salt pork. Did you wash off the meat before cooking it?”

  She shook her head. “I just put all the meat from the jar into the pot.” Millie had never heard of salt pork. In Boston, they rarely had meat, and what they did have was purchased from the butcher the day they cooked it.

  He sighed. “Have you never cooked with salted meat before?”

  She shook her head. “No. I didn’t know anyone did.”

  “From now on, when you cook with meat from one of the jars, make sure you wash off the meat. That will get rid of the extra salt.” He stood and took a lantern outside.

  Millie stared down at the food in front of her. The children were eating the biscuits happily, but no one was touching the stew. When George came back, she apologized immediately. “I’m sorry I ruined supper.”

  George set a jar of jam on the table. “Strawberry jam fixes everything. You made more biscuits than we’d eat with a meal. Now we can just put jam on them, and we’ll all have full bellies. Next time, you’ll know how to fix the stew.” He paused. “I’ll mix the stew with the hog feed and the pigs will have a great dinner. We won’t let it go to waste.”

  Millie walked around the table, picking up each of their bowls of stew and dumped them into the big pot. “I’ll leave this here for you then.”

  She sat down and saw the children were enjoying her biscuits with the jam. At least she’d done something right.

  After dinner, she asked Michael to fetch another pail of water from the well. She heated it on the stove and immediately got the dishes washed. It only took a few minutes when she wasn’t doing a week’s worth of dishes. George came back in after a few minutes with an empty pot. She scrubbed that out as George put the children down to bed. She carried the old wash water out to the yard and dumped it. She sighed heavily. She’d only been here a few hours and she’d already done more work than she had to do in a week back in Boston.

  When he was finished, he asked Millie to sit at the table with him for a bit. “It wasn’t my decision to send off for a mail order bride.” He wasn’t sure the best way to start this conversation, so just jumping right into it seemed like a good way to him.

  She stared at him in astonishment. “You weren’t? Who decided to do it then?” Who else could have decided to send for her?

  “The ladies from church have been bringing us our meals since Martha died. They got tired of doing it and had a bake sale to raise money for me to get a mail order bride. I’m not ready to be married yet.”

  She nodded. “How long ago did you lose Martha?”

  He sighed. “It’s been about eight months now. The ladies from church came out and canned for us for the winter, but I don’t know how to cook, and neither does Patience. I needed someone who could cook and clean and take care of the little ones. They came to me and asked me to write my qualifications for a wife in a letter.” He paused. “That’s why I asked for a woman who was at least twenty-one.” He eyed her skeptically. “How old are you, Millie?”

  She swallowed hard. “I was eighteen a couple of weeks ago.” She couldn’t meet his eyes as she admitted to the lie, and she stared at her tightly clenched hands on the table.

  “I thought you were young. Why did you answer my ad?”

  She tried hard to come up with an acceptable answer. Finally she decided the truth was the only answer that could possibly make him understand. “I was raised in an orphanage, and there’s no room once you turn eighteen. They give you a bit of time to find somewhere to go, but even before I was eighteen I was handed a stack of letters for men who needed brides. I picked you.”

  He nodded. “Why did you lie to me about your age?” His green eyes seemed to stare straight through her as he waited for her answer. She wanted so much to give the right answer, but knew there wasn’t one.

  She flushed. “I didn’t think you’d want me if you knew how old I really was. I figured once you saw me, you wouldn’t care that I’m only eighteen.” She knew she sounded vain even as she said the words. This man wanted a lot more from a wife than a pretty face. He wanted someone who would help him by taking care of his home and his children while he worked. “The other men were either too old or too young. I didn’t want to be stuck in a bad situation.”

  “But you didn’t care about what kind of situation you put my family in?” He folded his arms across his chest. “You’re not really a Christian either, are you?”

  “No, I am a Christian. I’ve gone to church every Sunday my whole life.” How could he even question whether she was Christian? Everyone she knew was a Christian, most of them church-goers. Of course she was a Christian.

  “But you were willing to lie to get what you wanted. That’s not the Christian way.”

  She sighed. “I know. I just didn’t know what else to do.” She should be sorry for it, she knew, but she wasn’t. She’d done what she needed to do to put herself in the best position she could. It was just a little lie. Why did he care so much?

  “And it didn’t bother you to lie? To the man you were to marry? It didn’t bother you to sin against God?” His kind eyes seemed to look right through her.

  She shrugged. “I had to.” She wished she could explain it in a way he’d understand, but he seemed to see everything as either Christian or not Christian. She’d lied, so she wasn’t a Christian? What about forgiveness?

  He watched her for a moment, seeing she obviously didn’t get what she’d done wrong. She’d lied, which was a sin, but she thought it was okay, because it was what was best for her. “I’m not going to send you back,” he said. “We’re already married, and I won’t divorce you. God’s word says once you’re married, you’re married for life.” He stared down at the table, which was cleaner than it had been since his wife died. “I want your promise you won’t lie to me anymore. About anything.”

  She looked down at her lap. “I promise.”

  He nodded. “Good.” He stood and took a Bible down from a shelf against the wall. “I’d like for us to read the scriptures together before bed every night. I’m sure eventually you’ll understand our ways, and we’ll be able to live together happily.”

  She nodded. He opened the Bible after sitting back down beside her. He opened it to the book of Matthew. “I want to start by reading the gospel with you. I’m not sure what you’ve learned over the years, but I want you to learn about Christ and what he’s done for us, so you’ll want to always do what’s right.”

  She listened as he read the first chapter of the book of Matthew. She didn’t know if anyone had ever taken the time to actually read the Bible with her before, but she didn’t object. Maybe it would help him to see she really was a Christian.