Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. White

by Kit Morgan

  As if reading her thoughts, he pointed to it. “Ma thought you might like that.”

  “Oh,” she said in surprise. “She didn’t have to give me anything of hers.”

  “She didn’t. I ordered it from Oregon City and had it delivered. She just helped me pick it out.”

  This time Lily gasped in surprise. “You… you bought it for me?”

  “Sure ‘nough. I figgered ya’d like somethin’ to put stuff in.”

  Lily glanced around and noted the armoire against the opposite wall. “But it looks like there’s plenty of room for what little I have.” More than enough actually, she thought, looking at her pitiful satchel.

  “Not for everyday things,” he said. “But for, ya know, heirlooms.” He put his hands on his hips and looked at the floor a second or two before adding, “For our children.”

  Lily felt herself start to sweat. “Of course.” Not that there were going to be any – she’d be lucky if she got to stay long enough to put anything in the dresser. In fact, now that she was finally here, she might as well get what she’d been dreading over with. As she saw it, by morning she’d either still be Mrs. Oscar White, or she’d be packing for the next stage elsewhere …

  “I’m gonna go help Ma with supper,” Oscar said. “The next stage’ll be here at six, and it usually has a lotta passengers.”

  “Where does the six o’clock stage come from?” If she did have to leave the next day, she wanted to know what options she had besides Clear Creek.

  “Sometimes from Oregon City headin’ to Baker City, sometimes the other way ‘round. This bein’ Tuesday, it’ll be comin’ from Baker City.”

  “And they come through every day?”

  “Not every day – depends on the time of year and the weather, and there’s no stage on Sundays. We’re hopin’ one day the train’ll come through here.”

  A hand went to her chest. “But you’re nowhere near big enough to handle a train full of people.”

  “Yet. Someday I hope to build a small hotel.”

  “A hotel?” She glanced around, even though they were still in his room. “But isn’t this already …”

  “Nah, still just a stage stop. But I know what yer thinking. Still, if the railroad comes through here, I’d like it to be bigger than what we got now, so we can serve more guests.”

  “Have the railroad men come here to discuss it with you?” she asked out of curiosity.

  “No, but I figger they will one day.”

  Lily thought of the remote location and wasn’t exactly inclined to agree. But Oscar was willing to wait. Which made one of them – she didn’t want to wait another night twisting in the winds of fate before she knew if Oscar would be willing to keep her. Her inclination was to just get it over with. But she’d wait until after supper to make her final decision.

  Chapter 8

  “… And here’s where we keep the flour, sugar and coffee,” Oscar pointed at a row of large stone jars. “The rest of it’s in a storeroom.”

  “And where is the storeroom?” Lily Fair asked, curious.

  “Off Anson’s room.”

  She gave him a quizzical look. “What?”

  “Yeah, that way no one tries to steal anythin’ outta it. I’ll show ya after supper.”

  “So you have to go through your brother’s room to get to the storeroom?” she asked, still incredulous.

  “Yep.”

  “Poor Anson.”

  “Aw, he don’t mind none. ‘Specially since it’s his job to see everythin’s kept up in the kitchen.”

  She shrugged. “Well, then I guess I don’t have to worry about refilling the flour or sugar, do I?”

  “Nope. C’mon, lemme show ya where everythin’ else is.” He led her through the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, then took her outside to the root cellar.

  “Oh my, I’ve … well, I’ve …”

  “What’s the matter?” Oscar asked.

  She looked at him in the dim light. “I’ve never been in a root cellar before.”

  His eyes popped. “What? Never?”

  She shook her head. “I … grew up on a plantation.”

  Oscar stared at her a moment. He knew she was from the South, knew she’d lost folks in the war, knew her family was on the losing side. But plantation owners? It had never come up, and he hadn’t asked. He’d thought her clothing had told him her social status, and they had … but only her current one.

  “We had … servants.”

  “Slaves, ya mean.”

  Lily Fair hung her head. “Yes.” She didn’t look up for a while, not until the silence got uncomfortable. “Later it was a few servants, after the slaves were freed.” She turned away and walked to the other side of the cellar. “We lost everything, Oscar.”

  He went to her, put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close. “I cain’t imagine that kinda life.”

  “It was grand,” she said on a sigh. “And it was wrong – I know that now. But at the time, I was a child – it was all I knew. John and I were wed just after South Carolina seceded, just before the war began. Little did we know it was the beginning of the end for us. He enlisted right away and I rarely saw him after that.”

  “So that’s why ya never had children,” he replied. She’d spoken in generalities before this. Now he was getting the details.

  “Yes. Hard to start a family when you never see your husband.”

  Oscar gently turned her to face him, never taking his hands off her shoulders. “It ain’t gonna be that way between us.”

  She chuckled nervously. “I should say not. Not out here, where we’re the only ones around.”

  “Not the only ones. Not quite.”

  She closed her eyes and lowered her head again. “I know, but it’s not like I can hitch up the buggy and drive to town either.”

  “No, it’s not,” he agreed. “For one, we ain’t got a buggy.”

  She laughed and looked at him.

  He cocked his head. “Ya can hitch up a buggy?”

  She smiled. “I can.”

  “Well, ain’t ya just full of surprises?” he asked, amused.

  “I can ride too.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Can ya now? If there ain’t too many folks on the six o’clock stage, maybe we’ll have time to take a ride tomorrow. I’d like to show ya around some. There’s a creek ‘bout a mile from here where we fish – it’s real purty.”

  She smiled again as her eyes roamed his face.

  “What?” he asked, curious as to what she might be thinking.

  “You. Such a big strong man, using the word ‘pretty’.”

  He shrugged. “What of it?”

  She laughed again. “I don’t know – it seems out of place somehow. Maybe because the men I’ve met of your size weren’t so nice.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot. One more reason I like livin’ here and doin’ what I do. Out here I’m just Oscar, the fella who makes the best rolls in the state. Or, uh, so I’m told,” he added with a grin.

  To his surprise, she placed her hands over his. They were small and warm, and he liked the feel of them. “Show me what you keep down here.”

  Holding her hands, he led her to the far wall where they stored the potatoes. He showed her where everything was kept, gave her a brief history of the root cellar and how long it took his father and him to dig it out, then led her outside into the fresh air. By now the sun was fading behind the mountains to the west. “Gonna be dark soon,” he commented. “Best I show ya the smokehouse, then we need to go set the table.”

  “Set the table? But you don’t know how many passengers are coming.”

  “Don’t matter. Ma likes the table set. Looks more invitin’.”

  She nodded her understanding as he headed for the smokehouse. Lily Fair wrinkled her nose as they entered. “Oh my.”

  “Yeah, the air’s pretty gamy in here, but wait’ll ya taste some of what I make.”

  “You? You smoke your own meat?”


  “Ain’t no one else out here to do it for us. Really, Henry and I both take care of the smokehouse, so I shoulda said ‘what we make’.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “I know everyone must have their assigned chores. I’m just trying to figure out what mine will be.”

  “Whatever Ma needs, honey.”

  Her eyes suddenly flicked to his.

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  She was acting funny, and he detected the same sadness he’d caught when they were in Clear Creek. It came out of nowhere and just as quickly disappeared. Now that he knew a little more about her past, he could understand – maybe she missed her old life. But what could he do about that? This wasn’t the South and he sure wasn’t some rich plantation owner. If she thought she’d have anything here resembling the life of a Southern belle, she was sadly mistaken.

  He led her out of the smokehouse and into the barnyard. “Anson takes care of the barn for the most part, feeds the horses and helps the stage drivers with their stock.” His voice had gone flat and he hoped he didn’t sound angry. Tarnation, he knew he didn’t have a lot, but quite a few women would be more than happy to have what he had. Just his luck to get one that was used to a lot more. Or was she? No sense jumping to conclusions. “Ya said ya lost everything.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s why ya went to Denver?”

  “Yes, I had an aunt there. But she died and the money …” she looked away. “… well, ran out.”

  Oscar studied her a moment. “Didn’t yer family have money for ya to live on after the war?”

  “No,” Lily Fair snapped, then shut her eyes as if to erase her reaction. “I’m sorry.”

  Oscar gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m just tryin’ to understand ya, Lily Fair. That’s all.”

  She glanced at him, the sadness back in her eyes. “When I told you we lost everything, I do mean everything.” She looked away again. “More than you know.”

  “I can see that. But ya don’t hafta worry none. Yer my wife and I’m gonna take care of ya from now on.”

  She slowly raised her face, her lower lip trembling, and nodded.

  “Don’t cry, Lily Fair. Please don’t cry.” He put his arms around her. He’d never held her like this before. She felt good wrapped in his arms, her body flush against his. But despite his words and the physical comfort he hoped to give, she still cried. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. Maybe the long trip had finally caught up with her. “C’mon, honey, let’s get ya into the house. I’ll make ya a cup of coffee.”

  She nodded and sniffed back tears. “I’m sorry, so sorry …”

  “No crime in shedding a few tears.”

  “I know, but …”

  “Lily Fair, I understand ya been through a lot.”

  She gulped and stared at him. Her eyes were big and round and he could see the differing shades of brown and flecks of gold in them.

  “Ya lost everythin’,” he went on. “I dunno what that’s like. The only thing I ever lost was my pa.”

  She swallowed hard and sniffled some more.

  He kept an arm around her as he steered her toward the house. “I know I ain’t much …”

  “What?!”

  Oscar stopped. “Lily Fair, I know I ain’t some fancy dude from back east. I’m a simple man.”

  More sniffles. She wiped her eyes with her hand. “Oscar, there’s … something I need to tell you.”

  He faced her and took her other hand. “What is it?”

  She looked at him, trembling. “The war took more than … any of us could imagine.”

  “I understand that.” She was downright shaking, and he pulled her into his arms once more. “Ya don’t have to tell me, honey, not if it’s gonna upset ya like this.” He felt her stiffen and try to pull herself together.

  She stepped out of his embrace, as if holding her would push her over the edge. Maybe it would. But maybe it was what she needed. “I know you need to deal with the next stage.”

  “Well … yeah, I know. But if ya need my help right now …”

  Lily Fair shook her head. “I’ll be fine, really.” She swallowed again and straightened. “Best you get to it, then.”

  Oscar eyed her carefully. She was doing her best to push her feelings down, but that wasn’t going to make whatever was bothering her go away. Still, he wasn’t going to force it out of her. She’d tell him when she was ready. “All right, let’s go back to the house.”

  After a short nap, Lily entered the dining room a little before six, just as a man – Henry or Anson? – was pulling silverware out of a drawer in the large hutch. He set the silverware on the table and then hurried out the front door. Lily blinked back the sleep in her eyes and studied the room while wondering where he’d run off to in such a hurry.

  The dining table was good-sized and could easily seat eight, ten if they had to. She did notice a couple of extra chairs against one wall, and could guess what they were for.

  She was tempted to pitch in and help, then remembered Ma’s order and settled for staying out of the way. Maybe she’d offer to wash the supper dishes so Ma could have a little rest. True, she was still tired from the long trip here, but she was also younger and stronger. Surely she and Oscar could handle a batch of dirty dishes – provided Oscar didn’t consider it “women’s work.” But then, he also cooked, so that concept might never occur to him …

  Ma entered the room from the kitchen, a vase full of blossoms in it. She set it on the table, then stepped back to admire it. “There now, ain’t them purty?”

  “Are those cherry blossoms?” Lily asked.

  “Sure are. Make a nice centerpiece, don’t they?”

  Lily smiled. “Yes, they do.” She yawned, much to her embarrassment.

  “You ‘n Oscar best make it an early night,” Ma commented.

  Lily rubbed her face. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “Cain’t he’p but yawn if ya need to, chile.”

  “We can turn in after we clean up the supper dishes …”

  “Nah, nah, you two go t’bed after ya eat.”

  “Please, I insist,” Lily said. Besides, the longer she waited to get to bed, the more likely Oscar would simply fall asleep instead of exercising his husbandly rights. She’d almost told him about her hardship, but couldn’t get the words out. Thankfully, he’d said she didn’t have to and, coward that she was, she didn’t argue. But she couldn’t put him off forever, and she’d already decided she needed to tell him now, before she got too attached to his family or the stage stop.

  A man barged through the front door, a string of fish in his hand, but Lily didn’t think it was the man she saw before. “Look, Ma! I done got supper!”

  Ma sighed in relief. “‘Bout time ya got back, Henry. Well, don’t juss stan’ there, go clean ‘em. Oh, by th’way, meet yer new sister-in-law, Lily.”

  Henry turned to face her with a huge smile. He looked like a younger version of Oscar, only smaller and with lighter hair. But he had the same dark eyes and single eyebrow – that seemed to be a family trait. “Hi, I’m Henry!”

  Lily smiled back, unsure what to do. Henry was a full-grown man, yet something about him … aside from what Oscar had shared.

  “I got ya a surprise!”

  Lily glanced at his mother, who stood behind him, a warm smile on her face. “You … you did?”

  “Sure did! I’ll go fetch it for ya! I done hid it out in the barn!” He took off, the string of fish still in his hand.

  “Henry!” his mother cried after him.

  “Oh yeah – forgot!” Henry made a sharp turn just as he reached the front door, making a bee-line for the kitchen instead.

  “Y’hafta ‘scuse Henry – he gets hisself all worked up. He’s been workin’ on yer present fer weeks.”

  “My … present?”

  “A weddin’ present. It’s fer both you’n Oscar, but mainly for you.”<
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  Lily smiled. “How sweet.” Inwardly she cringed. This would make having to leave (if you have to leave, she reminded herself) all the harder.

  She watched Henry run out of the kitchen, across the living/dining area and out the front door without a word, and couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Be careful ‘bout laughin’ ‘round Henry,” Ma warned. “He gets sens’tive ‘bout it sometimes.”

  Lily nodded in understanding, glad that Oscar had already told her a little about his “special” younger brother.

  A minute later, Henry returned. “Come and see, Lily!”

  She glanced at Ma, who nodded encouragingly, and followed Henry out to the porch.

  He danced around a lovely handmade rocking chair, smiling jovially. “Here it is! What do ya think?”

  Lily gasped. “Oh, Henry, it’s beautiful! You made this all by yourself?”

  “Sure did. I like makin’ things.”

  Ma had joined them by now. “He’s quite the furniture maker. Got inta it ‘bout six years ago – makes all kindsa things. He made the chairs, and th’dinin’ table – one we usta have was purt near collapsin’. Thass what got him goin’.”

  Lily walked around her present. There were no elaborate carvings on it, nothing fancy, but it was shapely and sturdy. Obviously Henry took great pride in his work. “Thank you, Henry.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

  Henry blushed almost purple. “Aw gee … wasn’t nothin’.” He gave her another wide grin. “I can make ya anythin’ ya want!”

  “I’m sure you can.” She smiled and sat in the chair, rocking experimentally a few times. “Oh, Henry, this is nice.”

  “Be nicer once Ma makes a cushion for it – ain’t that right, Ma?”

  “Yep. Awready started on it.”

  Lily glanced between them. “You two shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

  “Ain’t no trouble when it’s fer family,” Ma said. “Now, Henry, go clean yer fish.”

  Henry fidgeted as he teetered between staying on the porch and doing what his mother said. “I’m glad ya like it,” he finally said, then went inside.