Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. White

by Kit Morgan

  “Come, sit, you two. I’ll fetch you something to eat.” She headed for a table, then stopped and turned back. “I’m Sally Upton, by the way. Oscar, where are your manners?”

  “Sorry – this has been …” He glanced at Lily. “… a busy day already. Sally, this is Lily Fair.”

  Lily’s eyebrows rose slightly. He thought it was a busy day? He wasn’t the one that had just stepped off the stage and been run from pillar to post ever since. But then, he might be just as nervous as she was, especially if they were to wed within hours. Don’t judge, Lily, she scolded silently.

  But she was judging, despite her self-admonition. Her groom was big and clumsy-looking and, from what she’d observed so far, not very verbal. She had a fleeting thought that he probably couldn’t read or write either, but quickly squashed it. He’d written the letter to Mrs. Pettigrew, after all – of course he was literate. Unless he’d had someone else write it for him …

  “Please to meet you, Miss Fair. And Oscar, you’ll be glad to know I made your favorite pie today.” Sally bounced off toward the kitchen. “Won’t take me but a minute to get you both some lunch.”

  Lily watched her disappear. “Um … how often do you get to town?”

  “Every few months or so. All depends on the need. Willie brings us supplies on his stage run often enough so we don’t hafta. Bigger items, he can’t – lumber, furniture, that sort of thing.”

  “No, I don’t suppose he could,” she said softly, staring at the well-appointed table as she sat. The china looked expensive, as did the silverware. Could it be real silver? All this finery made Lily feel small, dirty and woefully underdressed. Even Mr. White’s rough linen shirt, wool trousers and jacket were in better shape than her attire. She fidgeted at the thought.

  “Somethin’ wrong?” he asked as he took his chair.

  Her face slowly rose to his, not realizing she’d been so absorbed with the table settings. “Tired,” was all she could manage. They studied each other for a moment, and she wasn’t sure what to do next. She was nervous, admittedly – not only was she about to marry a stranger, but she’d be living in the wilderness from the sounds of it, visiting even the tiny burg of Clear Creek only a few times a year …

  Lily! You’re doing it again. Don’t start complaining when you haven’t even seen everything or met his family. Besides, you’re not who you were – far from it. You’re in no position to be putting on airs …

  Sally reemerged, humming a merry tune, a small platter of fried chicken in her hands. She set it on the table and retreated to the kitchen.

  “Sally makes great fried chicken,” Mr. White commented. He twisted in his chair to look at the kitchen door. “I wonder if I should help her.”

  “Help her? But you don’t work here.”

  “No, but I know what it’s like to serve folks all day. We’re in between lunch and teatime. Normally she’s takin’ a break ‘bout now.”

  Sally popped in again, two bowls in her hands, and set them on the table with a happy sigh. “Now I think that’s enough for a light lunch. Anything else?”

  “Got any iced tea, Sally?” he asked.

  “Certainly, Oscar. Be right back.”

  Lily watched the woman stroll toward the kitchen as if she hadn’t care in the world. Maybe she didn’t. Lily envied her.

  As soon as Sally returned with their iced tea and left again, Mr. White bowed his head for the blessing. “Lord, thank Ya for this food, and for bringin’ Lily to me safe and sound. I pray she gets what rest she needs before our weddin’ and finds me to be a good and honorable husband. Amen.”

  She stared at him, her mouth half-open. He seemed humble – a good quality, especially for a man of his size. She wondered if he’d fought in the war, but decided not to ask. Instead she reached for the bowl of vegetables. “After we’ve eaten and I rest a bit, I think I’ll be ready.”

  His hand, halfway toward the platter of chicken, stopped at her words. “Then I’d best speak to Preacher Jo while yer takin’ … I mean … restin’.”

  Taking a bath? she thought to herself. Well, it makes perfect sense – he can see I need one – but it was nice of him to not finish saying it.

  They ate in silence, save for Mr. White commenting on the food now and then. “Sally will have made my favorite pie recipe.”

  “Yes, she said that,” Lily reminded him.

  “I said it was my favorite pie recipe – it’s easy to make, that’s why Sally likes it. But she don’t have the recipe for my favorite pie.”

  “And what pie would that be?” If she was going to cook for the man, she might as well know.

  “My own special recipe. Don’t worry, I’ll teach ya.”

  She suddenly realized how much he’d been talking about the food – and how he’d been talking about it. Not like a customer, but like a fellow chef. “Mr. White…”

  He reached over and placed a hand on hers, and she noted how rough his skin felt. Working hands, not like John’s. “Please, call me Oscar. After all, we’re gonna be married later.”

  She felt herself blush. “All right, Oscar. I just wanted to ask – who does all the cooking at the stage stop?”

  “I do most of it.”

  Lily hoped she didn’t look too shocked. “Not your mother?”

  “She does a little. But I’m the real cook in the family.”

  “You are?” This time she didn’t try to hide her surprise. He didn’t look the type to cook much, or at all, really.

  “I got a knack for it – and I like to experiment. Ma’s good, but she just makes the same things over and over. Runnin’ the sort of place we do – well, ya want to be known for a few dishes, but …”

  Her eyes went wide. “You sound like a chef.”

  “Chef? You mean a fancy cook?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

  “Aw, I don’t know ‘bout that. I just like to cook, and folks ‘round here say I’m good at it. I don’t know if I could work in one of them fancy city restaurants. Sally could, maybe – in fact, I think she did way back when.”

  Lily studied the food on her plate, what was left of it – she’d eaten almost everything. Granted, as hungry as she was she would have regardless, but it really was delicious. “So if Sally is a chef, wouldn’t you be one as well?”she asked, her smile a challenge.

  Oscar thought a moment. “Well … she’s a really good cook. And I think I am too, but …” he paused, then to her utter horror asked, “how ‘bout you? Are ya a really good cook?”

  Oscar cringed. Oh no – for Heaven’s sake, what did he say? All of a sudden, his little bride looked ready to bolt from the room, run upstairs and hide under the bed. All he’d asked was … oh. Hm. Maybe she couldn’t cook at all. That wasn’t uncommon with mail-order brides – he’d heard stories, and knew that many women who took that route had little domestic experience. Darn it, he didn’t want to embarrass her. “Well … what do ya like to cook?” he tried, hoping for a better response.

  Lily Fair sat a moment before managing a lopsided smile. “I like to … um, I like to bake.”

  His face lit up. “Me too! I got me all sorts of recipes I’ve come up with for new kinds of cakes and pies. I’ll show them to ya when we get home.”

  Something flashed in her eyes at the word “home,” and he cringed again. Should he ask? They were about to become husband and wife, perhaps that very afternoon. Didn’t she know that meant she could tell him anything? But he was a stranger to her, just as she was to him. He couldn’t expect her to trust him right off. “It’s okay if ya can’t cook. We’ll just have some fun learnin’.”

  Her face relaxed into a tiny smile. “Really?”

  “Sure. I enjoy teachin’ folks how to cook.”

  Her mouth fell open. “I declare, I’ve never known a man that enjoyed cooking, let alone teaching it.” She speared her last piece of carrot with her fork. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind giving me a few pointers on baking too?”

  “Sure. It ca
n be a time for you and me to get to know each other, right?”

  She nodded slowly in agreement. “I’ll try to be a good wife, Oscar. Really, I will.” There was an odd hesitancy in her voice, as if she wasn’t sure of herself.

  “And I’ll try to be a good husband,” he said. “Otherwise we might drive each other plumb crazy.”

  The same tinkling laughter he’d heard before bubbled out of her now. He liked that sound and wanted her to do it again – he just wasn’t sure how to make it happen. He didn’t know her well yet, and it usually took him a while to warm up to someone. Well, he’d best warm up quick, considering he was going to marry her.

  Sally brought them each a piece of apple pie and a cup of coffee and then retreated back to the kitchen. Oscar could tell Lily Fair was trying to figure out what it was about the recipe that Sally liked so well. “It’s a secret.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The pie recipe,” he said with a nod at her plate. “I gave it to Sally, but no one else.”

  She smiled at him. “Do you often keep your recipes so secret?”

  He nodded, unable to hide his pride. “Why do ya think folks like to stop at our place?”

  “Because the stagecoach does?” she said with a grin.

  Oscar chuckled. “Not just the stagecoaches. Folks come from all over just for supper. Sometimes breakfast and even lunch before they leave. We Whites have a reputation.”

  Her smile grew. “Then teach me. Everything you know.”

  Oscar smiled back. “Don’t worry, I will.” He leaned toward her. “But yer gonna hafta marry me first.”

  Her laughter again filled the air, and he smiled, pleased with himself. He just hoped he was able to please her enough to hear her laugh like that all the time. There was an odd sadness about her that he didn’t think a hot bath would wash away.

  The meal concluded, Oscar escorted her to the front desk, checked with Lorcan about her bath, and led her upstairs. He unlocked the door and handed her the key. “I’m gonna go talk with Preacher Jo while ya clean up. I’ll be back in a couple hours to check on ya. If you don’t feel up to getting’ hitched, we can wait ‘til tomorrow.”

  She smiled faintly. “You’re very kind, Mr. White … I mean, Oscar.” She shook her head.

  “Well, it’ll be a long while before ya get a chance to stay in a place like this again. Unless we hafta come back to Clear Creek right away. On the way home there’s nothin’ but a few ranchers that open their homes to travelers – for a fee, of course.”

  “Of course. How else would they be able to afford to feed a stream of travelers?”

  He nodded, and noticed he didn’t want to part from her. “Guess I’d best be goin’.” He handed her the satchel. “Did ya bring a weddin’ dress?”

  Her face flushed pink. “I don’t have one. I was going to wear this.” She frowned at her traveling dress.

  “Ya look fine,” he assured her. “Two hours.”

  She nodded. “Two hours.”

  Oscar left, striding down the hall to the grand staircase. He could feel her eyes on him as he made his descent, until she could see him no more. It was an odd sensation, one he’d never felt before, but he rather liked it. He was already feeling a strange tugging, as if something in her was pulling him closer. Maybe it was because she was so pretty. She had a good figure to boot. He hoped he didn’t have to fend off lascivious travelers on his wife’s behalf.

  Speaking of that, he’d better make her his wife first. That thought in mind, he left the hotel in search of Preacher Jo.

  Chapter 4

  Lily scrubbed herself clean, washed her hair and tried to make her clothes look more presentable – mostly, pounding the dust out of them. She never realized a stagecoach could get so dirty until she’d ridden in one.

  She dressed, put up her hair and, rather than wait for Oscar in the room, wandered downstairs to the lobby. She found the blind hotel clerk fascinating and wanted a chance to speak with him again.

  But it wasn’t the blind man that greeted her from behind the hotel counter when she descended the stairs, but a woman. “Oh, hello – you must be Oscar White’s mail-order bride.” She went to the bottom of the stairs and offered Lily a hand. “I’m Ada Brody. I help manage the hotel with my husband Lorcan. You’ve met him, of course.”

  “Yes, earlier. Your husband is a remarkable man.”

  Ada smiled, glanced at the ceiling and sighed. “That he is. He’s upstairs playing with our daughter right now.”

  “A daughter? Do you have any other children?”

  “No just little Aideen.”

  “Little? How old is she?”

  “Barely three, but going on thirty,” Ada said with a laugh.

  Lily laughed too. It was nice to be able to talk with another woman. There had been a few female passengers here and there along the stage route, but she would never see any of them again. Which made her wonder… “This is such a lovely hotel – does the railroad plan to come here one day?”

  “One day, I suppose. But who knows when? It’s not like we’re really on the way to anywhere except Portland and Oregon City – and neither one is what you’d call a big town.”

  Lily glanced around the beautiful lobby. “It does seem a shame more people can’t see this place.”

  “Oh, don’t think that we don’t have guests. We have over half a dozen staying with us now, aside from you and Oscar. They’re having tea in the dining room.”

  Lily couldn’t resist the urge to peek past her to the room’s wide entrance. Sure enough, she saw most of the tables were full of people enjoying tea. “Seems to me you have a lot of guests.”

  Ada gazed into the room as well. “Oh, that. Well, most of those folks are locals.”

  Lily blinked a few times – had she heard her right? “Locals? For teatime?”

  Ada laughed. “I always love the surprise on people’s faces when they find out. I guess Oscar hadn’t told you yet – a lot of Clear Creek’s settlers came from England.”

  Lily took a few steps toward the dining room, curious now. “You don’t say.”

  “Would you like a cup of tea? I’ll tell Oscar where you are when he comes in. Lorcan told me he went to speak with Preacher Jo and Annie.”

  That drew Lily’s attention. “Annie? Preacher Jo?”

  “Rev. Josiah King, but no one around here calls him that. And Annie is his wife – you’ll like her.”

  Lily nodded, then studied Ada a moment. “You’re not Irish, are you?”

  “No, not at all. I came to Oregon as a mail-order bride myself, just like you. Lorcan and I were married in Oregon City.”

  “You were?” Lily said in surprise.

  “Oh yes. Out of curiosity, where are you from?”

  “Charleston, South Carolina originally.”

  Ada’s eyes lit up. “How lovely – I have an aunt and uncle there! My my, we will have to have a good long chat if there’s time.”

  “Yes,” Lily agreed, and glanced at the dining room once more. She wondered how she’d missed the voices that drifted into the hotel lobby – there were definitely some British accents in the mix. “I think I will have a cup of tea, if you don’t mind?”

  “Go ahead and take a seat anywhere. Mrs. Upton will see to you.”

  Lily nodded, unsure if she should indulge herself. After all, she had no money and didn’t know how much this was going to cost Mr. Wh … Oscar. Speaking of which, he ought to be along anytime now. Maybe she should just wait in the lobby a little longer?

  Ada noticed her hesitation. “Go on.” She motioned toward the dining room. “Oscar isn’t going to mind you having a cup of tea.”

  Lily blushed, nodded and headed for the dining room.

  When she entered, the folks sitting nearest to the entrance smiled at her. Soon everyone took notice and nodded in welcome. She studied the dining room’s patrons with interest – a mix of ranchers, farmers, a few obvious businessmen. Some of the women were well-dressed, while others
wore simple homespun. Their ages ranged from schoolchildren to old and white-haired.

  One of the latter, a well-dressed, wiry gentleman, got up from a far table and made his way to her, a smile on his face. “Well, bless my buttons, you must be Oscar White’s mail-order bride,” he said in a dry nasal tone that screamed Boston.

  She stared at him, unsure for a moment what to say. Did everyone in town know who she was? “How do you do?”

  “Very well, thank you,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself – I’m Cyrus Van Cleet, your host.” He turned and waved to his table, where a petite older woman sat with two other, younger couples. “Please, come join us.”

  She nodded shyly and followed him to the table. The two remaining men stood and she smiled to herself, immediately feeling more at home. Ah, gentlemen.

  “Everyone,” Mr. Van Cleet said as he motioned to her. “May I introduce Oscar White’s mail-order bride.” He suddenly turned to her. “My word, I didn’t get your name.”

  The older woman rolled her eyes, but with a smile. “He gets more forgetful every day.”

  “That’s all right. I’m Lily Fair Olson.”

  The two gentlemen bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Olson,” one of them said. “I’m Harrison Cooke, and this is my wife Sadie.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Sadie replied, catching Lily off-guard. Mr. Cooke’s accent was British to the bone, but his olive-skinned wife sounded like a Southerner – no, a Southwesterner. Texas, maybe, or even Mexico?

  “And I’m Harrison’s brother Colin,” the other gentleman added. “And this is my wife Belle,” he concluded with a wave at the woman on his right.

  “Welcome to Clear Creek,” Belle chimed in.

  Another Bostonian – heavens, Clear Creek seemed to draw people from all over! Tiny though it was, the town was almost as cosmopolitan as Charleston. Lily wondered if she’d turn around to see a Negro couple wander in next, or a French trapper, or some minor European aristocrat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” she finally said.