Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. White

by Kit Morgan

  Thank Heaven for that, Lily thought. It probably had to do with Oscar working more in the kitchen than outside. And speaking of the kitchen … “What is Oscar’s favorite dessert?” Mending his things, she felt a growing urge to do something nice for him, but all her skills fell woefully short. Except maybe baking – therein lay her hope.

  “Well, lemme think,” Ma said. “I gotta choc’late cake recipe he likes – a guest gave it t’me some years back, said’t came all the way from Paris, France. Oscar ain’t never ‘sperimented with that one – guess he figgers best not t’mess with perfection.”

  Lily laughed and clapped her hands. “My heavens, is it that good?”

  “Yep, but it’s hard to get choc’late out here. I can show y’the recipe ‘n we’ll see if we got everythin’, but I’ll prob’ly have to have Willie get some stuff from the Dunnigans. ‘N if they don’t have none, Sally Upton will - fer a price.”

  “That’s one good thing about all the stagecoaches coming through here, isn’t it? At least they can pick up supplies for you now and then. It’s also a good thing the people in Clear Creek are so friendly …” That gave Lily another idea. “Ma, does Oscar like to read?”

  “Oh yeah, in th’evenins when he has a spare moment. Depends on how full up we are ‘n how much work there is.”

  “Does he have any books here he hasn’t read yet?”

  “Nah, he’s read ‘em all. Sev’ral times, most o’em.”

  “Does he ever think to get new books?”

  “Nah, not when we need the money fer other stuff.”

  “I see,” Lily said, her eyes downcast. With no money of her own, how could she buy a book for her husband?

  “Whass the matter, chile?”

  “I just thought it would be nice to buy Oscar a new book, but I haven’t any money.”

  “Don’t mean ya cain’t earn some.”

  “Earn? But how? Surely you’re not thinking of paying me.”

  “Heaven’s sake, chile, no. We’re all in this t’gether. But it don’t mean ya cain’t make sumpin’ t’sell the folks comin’ through here.”

  Lily’s eyes lit up. She hadn’t thought of that. “Like what?”

  Ma smiled slyly on her good side. “‘Member ‘at pie th’Truitts were hankerin’ after? And ya offered t’give ‘em one?”

  “Yes, but what about … oh.” Lily’s eyes widened. “You mean sell them one?”

  “Well, not them – ya already told ‘em theirs was a gift. But if ya can bake stuff fer folks t’take on the road, maybe ya got somethin’. We never done it only ‘cause it’s more work ‘n we ain’t had th’time. But now yer here …”

  Lily’s face broke into a smile, and she hugged her new mother in-law. “That’s a wonderful idea!” Her expression suddenly went flat. “But I don’t know if I bake that well.”

  Ma laughed. “Don’t worry, chile. If ya don’t now, ya will once we’re through with ya!”

  Three days later …

  “Thass right, now don’t overmix it,” Ma advised as she watched Lily stir a bowl of cake batter.

  “I’m so excited,” Lily said. “I thought I knew how to do this, but this is far beyond anything I tried on my own.”

  “Cookin’s an art t’some folks. I know ‘tis t’my Oscar. He’ll be a happy man when he finds out ‘is wife can cook ‘n bake ‘longside’im. Not o’ernight, mind, but ya’ll get there.”

  “I can hardly wait. I’ve done so little with my life before now. I feel like I’ve wasted it.”

  Ma put a hand on Lily’s to stop her rapid stirring. “Not so fass. ‘N I don’t mean th’batter. Well … I do mean th’batter – time t’pour’t into th’pans. But I also mean yer life. Don’t be so quick t’think it was a waste, chile.”

  Lily started pouring and gave that some thought. Ma didn’t know how she’d squandered all those years by being spoiled, demanding and ignorant of the hardships of others. Until the war came, and even then, she wasn’t of much use.

  “Look at me, chile.”

  Lily did, seeing the disfigured face of the woman before her. Ma had seen hard times too.

  “Yer here, ain’t ya? Y’ain’t wastin’ yer life now.”

  “No, but what about before …”

  Ma held up a hand to silence her. “Lemme tell ya somethin’, chile. Th’Lord don’t waste nothin’. Y’might think He does, ‘cause y’cain’t see what He’s doin’. But there’s plenty o’ other folks who feel like ya do. Sometimes I have, I don’t mind sayin’, and don’t think we ain’t heard tales from ever’one else’s come through here.”

  Lily blinked a few times, her mouth half open in shock. She hadn’t thought about that before – why else would most people head west to start over? “I’m sorry, Ma. I didn’t mean to imply that no one else suffered.”

  “Didn’t think ya did. But ya were implyin’ yer life was a waste. It weren’t – it was preparation.”

  Lily finished pouring and set the bowl on the worktable. “But … before coming here I did nothing that wasn’t selfish or petty or … well, I wasn’t a good person. In fact, I was a snob. I thought myself better than everyone else.”

  Ma laughed. “You ‘n ten thousan’ others like ya. Plenty o’ spoiled girls out there ain’t gotta clue ‘bout how life really works. But ya ain’t that no more, are ya? Ya grown up some, right? ‘Cause ya seem purty decent to me now.”

  “Only because I was forced to become decent.”

  “Seems t’me th’decency was already in there. Juss needed a li’l proddin’ t’come out.”

  Tears stung the back of Lily’s eyes. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

  Ma surprised her, pulling her into her arms. “Dear chile, I been prayin’ fer years fer th’Lord to bring Oscar a wife. I din’t ask fer perfection. I asked Him to bring my son th’woman he needed most, ‘n needed him most. ‘N look who He sent.”

  Lily’s lower lip began trembling. “How did you get so wise?”

  Ma smiled. “Th’hard way. ‘S the only way anyone does.” She let Lily go and turned to the worktable. “Now let’s get these pans in th’oven.”

  Lily contemplated Ma’s words as the cakes baked and she helped Ma start supper. Oscar, Henry and Anson had all been busy the last several days cutting down trees and making fence posts in preparation for the cattle’s arrival. It was hard work, and Lily did her best to help Ma with all the chores so the men wouldn’t have to. “I’d best take the laundry off the line,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “You do that and I’ll see to my dough,” Ma replied. She was making her famous chicken and dumplings for supper, and Lily couldn’t wait to see if they were as good as Sally Upton’s.

  Lily looked at the pot simmering on the stove. She’d watched Ma prepare the chicken in fascination, not sure if she’d ever have enough nerve to kill one of the birds and do everything else that had to be done to prepare it for cooking. But eventually, she knew, she’d have to learn.

  She went out the kitchen’s back door, picked up the large basket she’d left next to it and looked at the bedsheets billowing in the breeze. Spring was just now filling the air with the sweet smell of the first wildflowers.

  As she took sheets off the line and put them in the basket, she thought of the last few nights and how tender and gentle Oscar had been. He’d held her, kissed her, made her feel things she had felt only briefly before with John, and so much more. She loved his deep gentle voice, large hands and lumbering ways. And his patience – so much patience, almost as if he was courting her. Of course, they’d gone well past courting that morning by the waterfall, but he still treated her as gentlemanly as he could.

  She removed the last sheet, put it in the basket and turned back to the house. Even after consummating their marriage, Oscar was giving her time to feel comfortable with him. And she was, more and more. He touched her with loving adoration – no wincing or pulling his hands away from her scars, no grunts of disgust. And all the while, he told her how beautifu
l she was.

  Lily bowed her head and closed her eyes. Oh Lord, I don’t deserve him. But thank You, thank You for giving me this man. I never could have found him on my own. I know I couldn’t. Thank you.

  She opened her eyes, took a deep breath and carried the laundry into the house. Once it was all folded – the easiest chore in the world; it had taken her all of a half-hour to learn – she returned to the kitchen to help Ma with supper. She set the table and watched in fascination as Ma made her dumplings.

  Not long after, Oscar, Henry and Anson came in to eat. “Somethin’ smells good,” Oscar commented. “Need any help, Lily Fair?”

  “Thank you, but no. Go wash up.”

  “Well, look at you, Mrs. White – married to me less than two weeks and already bossin’ me ‘round.”

  “Your ma’s been teaching me well. I’m sure I’ll get bossier as time goes on.” She grinned and waved a spoon at him.

  He laughed and headed out to the pump.

  There were no guests tonight, just family, and Lily discovered she liked these evenings the best. Not that the stagecoach passengers weren’t interesting, but she enjoyed the closeness of just the five of them after all those years alone or nearly so.

  She sighed with satisfaction and thought of her cake, already frosted and resting on top of the hutch in the kitchen. Ma had warned her Henry was in the habit of running a finger through the frosting if it was within reach, no matter how many times she or Oscar told him not to. He just couldn’t help himself. She wondered if Henry would ever marry.

  Anson would, she was sure. He already had set his sights on a young woman in Clear Creek named Emeline Turner, and she’d helped him pen a letter to her last night. Willie would take it to Clear Creek when he came through tomorrow. Would Anson be crushed if she didn’t answer? And if she did answer, what then? How could they court when they lived so far apart, other than by mail?

  “Is supper ready?” Lily asked Ma as she re-entered the kitchen.

  Ma was ladling the main course into a tureen. “Sure is. Carry this t’th’table, will ya? Careful, it’s hot.”

  Grabbing two dishrags, Lily carefully picked up the chicken and dumplings and carried it to the table, then went back for the sliced bread and a big bowl of vegetables. None of the men were in the kitchen at the moment, so Lily glanced at the top of the hutch. “Have any of them seen it yet?”

  Ma smiled. “Not yet, thank Heaven, or there’d be a long mark on it from Henry’s finger. Ya know, thass why I usually stick with pies?”

  Lily laughed. She was looking forward to surprising Oscar. For the first time in a very long time, she felt at peace.

  Chapter 13

  Three weeks later…

  “Ma!” Henry yelled from the porch. “Stage’s comin’!”

  Lily and Ma hurried to finish setting the table as Henry came through the screen door. Oscar had installed just that morning. It was warm for early May in Oregon, but Lily and the rest of the family hoped it stayed that way for a few days. Last week it had rained like Noah’s flood, and they were hoping to dry out.

  “Think we’ll be full up?” Henry asked.

  “Now, Henry,” Ma said. “Ya know’s well as I do we won’t know ‘til it gets here. Ya bring my wood in yet?”

  “Did Lily bake another cake?”

  “Thass none o’ yer business ‘til it’s time fer dessert. Now, my wood?”

  Henry grinned cockily. “I brought it in a few minutes ago, Ma. Ya been in here a while.”

  “Thass ‘cause o’th’extra work from havin’ so many folks here last night. I cain’t ‘member bein’ so busy.”

  “Good thing yer here now, Lily,” Henry said in all seriousness. “It sure helps Ma out, and makes her happy. Makes me happy too – ‘specially when ya bake a cake.”

  Lily was still adjusting to Henry’s ways. “Thank you, I’m glad to be here. And Henry?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes, I made a cake tonight. But keep your fingers out of it or you won’t get any.”

  Henry stared at his shoes. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lily laughed and gave him a quick peck on the cheek as the stage pulled up in front of the house. “Well,” she said, “here we go.” By now she was used to the routine. Most of the time, Ma kept her busy in the kitchen and with other household chores, staying ready for the stage passengers. This freed Oscar to help his brothers build the corral for the cattle coming soon. The Cookes had sent word via Willie the last time he came through that their wedding present was already on its way.

  Unfortunately, Anson had been hoping for another message, one that hadn’t yet come. So far there was no letter from Emeline Turner. He understood he needed to be patient, but he couldn’t hide his disappointment.

  “I hope Willie’s got sumpin’ fer Anson t’day,” Ma said as if reading Lily’s thoughts. “That boy o’ mine’s been prancing ‘round the last week like a nervous horse.”

  “He’s not the only one waiting,” Lily added. “I still haven’t heard back from Belle or Sadie.”

  “And I’m wonderin’ what’s for supper,” Oscar boomed behind them.

  Both women jumped. “Land sakes, Oscar!” Ma cried. “Don’t do that!”

  Oscar put an arm around each of them and gave them a hug. “Just playin’ with ya, Ma,” he said with a laugh.

  Before either of them could respond, Willie opened the screen door for the first of the passengers. “Welcome to the Whites’ Stage Stop, Mrs. Cooke.”

  Lily turned to look, then barreled around the table. “Sadie! What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d surprise you with a little visit. I’m afraid Belle couldn’t come – she has too many children to look after. Thankfully my eldest Honoria is taking my place while I’m gone.”

  Lily couldn’t stop grinning. “Oh my goodness, this is wonderful! I’m sorry Belle couldn’t come, but … this is wonderful!”

  Sadie laughed and turned to Ma. “Mrs. White, I’ll thank you now for your hospitality, but don’t be afraid to put me to work.”

  “Believe me, chile, I won’t be ‘fraid,” Ma laughed.

  “Did ya know she was comin’?” Oscar asked his mother with a smile.

  “‘Course I did – Willie brought me a note last time he was here, ‘n I thought I’d let’t be a s’prise.”

  Oscar laughed and shook his head. “Well, it sure is!”

  The passengers filed in – a young couple with a baby, and a woman that looked about Lily’s age. They all did what passengers usually did the moment they walked through the door – namely, stared at Ma. But she took it in stride. “Welcome, folks!” she slurred as she hustled out to the counter and opened the guestbook. “I’m Mrs. White. Ya can sign in here, ‘n Lily’ll show ya t’yer rooms. Ya got anythin’ heavy we need t’bring up?”

  The young couple shook their heads. “N-n-n-no, ma’am,” the gentleman said.

  “‘N you are?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Samuel B-Beecher, ma’am.”

  They couldn’t be more than twenty, Lily thought, their baby perhaps a year old. The young mother, a petite blonde, shifted the child from hip to hip as it squirmed in her arms. They both looked haggard. “Here, let me take your satchels for you,” Lily said, feeling the urge to relieve the poor souls from at least some of their burdens.

  “Thank you,” the mother said in relief.

  “My pleasure.” She picked up both their satchels, wondering if the poor pair would fall asleep in their room and miss supper. She led them up the stairs to the second room on the right, explaining, “We have a cradle in here. I’m sure your little one will be comfortable in it.”

  “If he ever stops moving,” Mrs. Beecher groaned. “He’s like this all the time. That long stage ride didn’t help.”

  Lily opened the door and let them in. “I’m sure after he’s had a chance to play and rest, he’ll be fine.” Then again, what did she know – the child might cry all night. Wouldn’t that be a treat?

 
; She tried not to dwell on the thought that she was no expert on motherhood – she’d never raised children. Maybe Sadie could enlighten her – she had four of her own. Ma had told her a few things concerning children, but her boys were grown men now. Sadie (and Belle) had more recent experience, as most of theirs were still young.

  “Supper will be served in an hour,” Lily told them. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to show the other passengers to their rooms.”

  Mr. Beecher nodded his thanks before turning back to his family. Lily slipped out, closed the door and hurried downstairs to find Sadie chatting with the other passenger, who now had a large trunk next to her. “Oh dear,” Lily muttered. “I think I’m going to need Henry’s help with that.”

  “Oh, there’s no need,” the woman insisted. Her accent was flat, Midwestern, with just a touch of New England bray. “I can just remove what I need for the night.”

  “Nonsense,” Lily assured her. “Henry won’t mind carrying it up to your room and bringing it down in the morning. It’ll be fine.”

  “Well, as long as it’s no trouble …”

  “She’s right, Henry won’t mind,” Sadie said, then turned to Lily. “This is Miss Evangeline Norton. She’s a schoolteacher.”

  “Oh?” Lily said with interest. “Are you going to Oregon City to visit family or to work?”

  “Actually, I’m not going that far. I’m traveling to The Dalles to take up a teaching position there.”

  “The Dalles?” Lily said, then looked at Sadie.

  “It’s a town up on the Columbia River between here and Portland,” Sadie explained. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there myself.”

  “Oh, I see,” Lily said. “Welcome to Oregon, Miss Norton. I only recently came to Oregon from Denver.”

  Miss Norton smiled stiffly. “I’m from Cleveland, Ohio originally. By your accent, I gather you came to Denver from the South?”

  “Charleston, South Carolina,” Lily confirmed, noticing her unease. The War Between the States might have ended a decade before, but it remained fresh in people’s memories. Lily hoped Miss Norton hadn’t lost too much in the war, but from the look on her face, she’d obviously lost a few. Now here she was, being greeted by a Texan and a Carolinian … well, at least she was being a lady about it. “I’d best get Henry,” Lily continued, hoping to ease the tension.