The Springtime Mail Order Bride

by Kit Morgan

  “Not to worry,” Matthew said. “If mother goes over your budget, which I’m sure she will, then consider the rest a wedding present. I’ll tell her you’ve a budget of six dollars.”

  Mr. Weaver removed his hat. “Thank you, Matthew. That’s mighty kind.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said with a smile.

  Not a moment later, a tall, thin grey-haired woman came rushing up the hall to the storefront. “Arlan! Why didn’t you tell any of us you were getting married today?” Why, I could have sewn a new dress for the occasion.” She turned to Samantha. “And this is your bride I take it? Why she’s …” The woman stopped, her mouth half open as she took in Samantha’s careworn appearance. “Oh … you poor dear, what happened?”

  “She’ll need clothes, shoes, things for her hair, whatever you can think of. You know it might be months before I come back into town.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a list. “Here’s ma’s list. You can fill it while we’re with the preacher.”

  “But Arlan, I want to be there when you say I do. After all, I am your aunt.”

  He stared at her a moment. “All right, being as how ma couldn’t make it.”

  “Couldn’t make it? Why didn’t she come with you? Especially since you’re getting married!”

  “She’s sick, Aunt Betsy, and didn’t feel up to making the trip. I’m sure she’ll be better by the end of the week.”

  “Well, don’t you leave town without a care basket for her. I’ll put some things together quick like, and you can take it on home. Now, let’s get this poor girl some decent clothes.”

  All eyes turned to Samantha, and she felt herself shiver. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “Trouble?” the woman called Charlotte said. “It’s no trouble, we’re happy to help. Let’s see, you are a tiny thing.”

  “The ivory, don’t you think so, Charlotte?” the grey-haired woman asked then looked to Samantha again. “Oh but where are my manners? I’m Mrs. Quinn, Arlan’s aunt. His mother Mary is my sister, and this is my new daughter-in-law Charlotte. I’m sure you’ve already met Matthew, and Mr. Quinn is … hmmm, where is Mr. Quinn?” She glanced around the mercantile, then shrugged. “Well, you’ll meet him eventually. We’re going to be part of your new family!”

  Another shiver. Samantha rubbed her arms with her hands. Mrs. Quinn stepped over and put her hands over her own. “Good Heaven’s child! You’re freezing! Matthew, fetch some tea for this poor girl.”

  “Right away,” he said before he dashed back down the hall.

  She turned to her nephew. “Arlan, introduce your bride.”

  He looked down at her, and for the second time since her arrival, she grew warm inside. “Her name is Samantha Carter. You’ve already introduced everyone to her, so I guess I can skip that part.”

  “Samantha Carter,” his aunt said. “I think I’m going to like Samantha Weaver better.”

  Samantha felt herself blush at the woman’s heartfelt remark. Coming to a place where people were happy and excited to meet her was a new experience. She hardly knew anyone back in New Orleans, and those that she did, were people like Mrs. Daggert, the laundress. The sudden elation at making new friends made her head swim and her face broke out in a smile. “It’s so nice meeting all of you,” she said as a chill took her. She hunched her shoulders and shivered.

  Arlan put an arm around her and steered her toward the stove.

  “Arlan Weaver!” his aunt cried. “What are you doing holding her like that?”

  He stopped and glanced at her. “She’s freezing. I’ve got to get her warmed up or she’ll have a hard time of it on the way back to the farm.”

  His aunt watched as he placed his future bride near the stove, then fetched a chair to her so she could sit. About this time, Matthew came back with a cup of tea. “I’m sorry,” she said as she went to stand in front of Samantha’s chair. “I should have realized he was only trying to help. I’m a silly old woman sometimes.”

  “You’ll get used to her, trust me,” Matthew said as he handed her the teacup.”

  Samantha took it, grateful for its warmth, and held it for a moment before taking a sip. The hot brew was like Heaven, and she began to relax. “Thank you.”

  Arlan took his coat off and put it around her shoulders. “She’s not used to this cold. She’s going to need a good coat for the farm. Can you take care of it, Aunt Betsy? I need to go speak with Sheriff Riley before Miss Carter and I see the preacher.”

  “Sheriff Riley isn’t in town,” Matthew said. “He and a posse left yesterday.

  “A posse?” Arlan said as he took a step away from Samantha’s chair. “What happened?”

  “There’s been trouble down near Clear Creek,” his aunt told him. “An outlaw escaped a prison wagon when it got ambushed. You remember the trouble we were having around these parts last Thanksgiving?”

  Arlan thought a moment. “We came to town in October for supplies, then again for the Valentine’s dance. I don’t remember talk of any outlaw on the loose.”

  “Well, he’s trouble,” said his aunt with a curt nod of her head. “So you keep an eye out. In fact he’s easy to spot being as how he’s missing one. Goes by the name of Red Ned.”

  “Red Ned?” Samantha repeated. “What does the ‘red’ stand for?”

  Arlan’s eyes narrowed. “I can only imagine.” He looked down at her. “You keep warm and let Aunt Betsy help you get what you need. If Sheriff Riley isn’t around, I still need to go to the livery. I’ll be back.”

  He left without another word. Samantha stared after him until the door to the mercantile shut. She then gave her attention back to her tea and took a long sip. “Is the weather always this cold?”

  “You’ll get used to it,” said Matthew. “Now if you ladies don’t mind, I need to start counting the inventory.”

  “While he’s doing that, let’s get what you need,” said Mrs. Quinn. “First things first. From now one, call me Aunt Betsy.”

  Samantha smiled. All right … Aunt Betsy.”

  “Good. Now you sit there, and leave everything to me.”

  Samantha caught the gleam in her eye as she turned and practically skipped to a table laden with bolts of fabric. Matthew peeked out from behind a shelf of goods, got her attention, and mouthed the words: “Brace yourself, here it comes!”

  No sooner had he said it, than Aunt Betsy started in. Within twenty minutes Samantha was buried underneath several bolts of calico fabric, two coats, two pairs of boots, a pair of shoes, a basket Aunt Betsy filled with things for her hair, tooth powder, another basket she filled with yarn and several pairs of needles, and a hat. But not just any hat. It was an enormous hat with a purple plume feather and red ribbons. It was so horrifying, it was almost pretty, or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, Aunt Betsy looked exceedingly pleased to be getting rid of it.

  “Mother,” Matthew began as he eyed the hat sitting askew on top of Samantha’s head. “Are you sure you want to be sending that hat home with her?”

  “Of course, it goes perfect with her hair,” his aunt stated firmly.

  He stepped out from behind the counter and leaned towards his mother. “Isn’t that the hat Aunt Mary sent to the mercantile … what … four years ago?”

  “Yes, and I’ve never been able to sell it,” she said out the corner of her mouth.

  Samantha was so busy trying to balance the things in her arms, that she couldn’t add a word about the fashion nightmare on her head. She was having enough trouble hanging onto everything. At least she was warm.

  It was then the door opened.

  “Oh gads! Aunt Betsy, no!”

  “Now Arlan, take it like a man, and help your bride get these things out to the wagon.”

  “No, I am not taking that … that … “ he stammered, then sobered. “There are no words to describe it. I thought you sold that thing years ago.”

  “Arlan, don’t get so excited. It’s lovely on her, don’t you think
?”

  Samantha peered at her intended through the piles of goods she was holding.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head in resignation. “I haven’t time to argue, we need to go.”

  He went to where she sat, looked at her and smiled. “I see you survived.”

  “Mmm hmmm,” she mumbled through the bolts of cloth.

  He began to chuckle. “Ain’t you a sight? C’mon, we’re losing daylight. Time to get married.”

  * * *

  Samantha’s knees knocked beneath her dress, and she prayed no one heard. She’d never been so nervous. There wasn’t time back at the mercantile, what with Aunt Betsy loading her up with things too wondrous for her to take in. It was more than Samantha had ever owned in her life, and the woman’s generosity astounded her. Matthew, she noted, made a list of everything in her arms, and she was sure the cost of the goods went far beyond Arlan Weaver’s budget. But her future husband didn’t say a word about it. He was too concerned about the feathered monstrosity perched atop her head. Maybe Aunt Betsy meant for it to be a distraction. If so, it certainly worked.

  They loaded up the wagon (along with Aunt Betsy) and were off to the preacher’s house. Once there, the preacher’s wife came out to greet them, and was happy to help with “preparing the bride” for the ceremony. How Aunt Betsy smuggled a dress along Samantha hadn’t a clue, and within moments she found herself in the back room of the church wearing a pretty white frock fit for a wedding (minus the hat, of course) and holding a sprig of dried flowers. That was ten minutes ago.

  Now she stood next to Arlan in front of the preacher, and audibly gulped as the preacher’s wife sat behind a small organ, and began to play.

  There was no turning back now.

  Three

  “I just love weddings!” Aunt Betsy cried as they exited the small church.

  Samantha stood in shock, not to mention the clothes she arrived in. As soon as the ceremony was over, Aunt Betsy and the preacher’s wife again took her to the back room, stripped her of the white dress, and put her back into her old clothes, including the hat.

  She stood braced against the cold, and blew the purple plume out of her face. “I’m going to need one of my new coats.”

  “Oh, of course, you mustn’t catch a chill!” Aunt Betsy said. She went to the wagon and rummaged through the supplies in the back as best she could. “Here we are!” She pulled a coat out and handed it to her.

  Samantha put it on and reveled in the woolen warmth.

  “You’ll want to knit yourself a few things. Spring may be coming, but it doesn’t start to warm up until late May. Then again, sometimes mother-nature decides to surprise us.”

  Samantha smiled. She liked Aunt Betsy, and wondered when she’d get to meet Mr. Quinn. “I can’t thank you enough for your kindness. You’ve been very generous.”

  The woman put her arm around Samantha’s shoulders. “You’re family now, and besides, it’s your wedding day!” Aunt Betsy sighed and looked her up and down. “Do me a favor though,” she added.

  Samantha wrapped her new coat more tightly about her. “Yes?”

  “Get rid of that dress when you get to the farm. It’s not good for anything but rags.”

  Samantha gave her a half-hearted smiled. “I will, as soon as I’m able to make another. It … it could take me awhile. I don’t … know how to sew.” Her face flushed red with the admission, and she fought the urge to turn her face away.

  “Oh land sakes, don’t worry none about that. My sister Mary will teach you everything there is to know about sewing dresses, mending, hat making … er … she’s really very good at it … most of the time.”

  “Are we ready to go?”

  Both women turned at Arlan’s voice. He stood behind them, a sack of flour slung over one shoulder, and tossed it into the back of the wagon. “Where in Heaven’s name did you get that?” Aunt Betsy asked.

  “Mr. Davis just gave it to me as a wedding present. He’s gone back to the mercantile to get another. He was asking after Uncle.”

  “Oh dear, where is your uncle? He should have been back by now.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He went out to the Johnson farm to help with some fences that need mending.”

  Arlan nodded, then turned to Samantha. “We best get going. It’s a long drive back to the farm.”

  “Arlan, can’t you stay the night? I’m sure Samantha could use the rest after having such a long journey. Besides, you don’t want to be out on the road on your wedding night.”

  Samantha’s eyes widened. Wedding night … there was something about the term that rang a bell, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

  Arlan looked down at her, and she up at him. He swallowed hard and quickly looked to the wagon. “No, we need to get going, now. Do you want me to take you home?”

  Aunt Betsy sighed. “Oh, all right. Have it your way. And no, I’ve got some quilting to discuss with Mable here,” she said as she motioned to the preacher’s wife. She then turned to Samantha. “Don’t you be letting him boss you around at home, ya hear?”

  She smiled in return and stole a glance at her new husband. He’d gone to the wagon and was securing the load. Even his backside was handsome. “I’ll try not to,” she said.

  They finished saying their good byes then Arlan helped her up onto the wagon seat. After he climbed up and got settled, he turned to Aunt Betsy who stood with the preacher and his wife. “You take care, and we’ll see you when we can.”

  “You’ll be coming to church Easter Sunday, won’t you Mr. Weaver?” the preacher called up to him.

  “I can’t make any promises, there’s a lot of plowing to be done.” With a flick of the reins and a jangle of harness, they were off.

  Samantha turned on the seat and waved to the three who waved mildly back. She sighed, and faced front as the wagon continued to rumble through town. It didn’t take long for them to reach the other side, and begin the long, lonely road to her new home as Mrs. Arlan Weaver. She sighed again, and tried to enjoy the ride.

  Meanwhile, back at the church …

  “Don’t you think one of us should have at least warned her?” asked Mable as they sat down to tea.

  “No, let her find out for herself. No sense scaring the poor thing half to death,” Mrs. Quinn replied.

  “You two are cruel! I give her two weeks!” the preacher cried as he spun on his heel and sat down hard upon his chair. “Make that one!”

  “Oh come now,” Mable admonished. “The Weavers can be boisterous, I admit, but they’re not that bad.” Her husband glared at her, one eyebrow raised in disagreement, as Mrs. Quinn took a diplomatic sip of her tea and kept quiet.

  “Those Weavers will have that girl running back to town in one week! Mark my words, she’ll never last until Easter.”

  “Since when did you become such a pessimist?” his wife asked. “Who knows why the good Lord brought that girl out here to marry Arlan? I grant you she’s kinda scrawny and quiet, but if she’s got any gumption in her, she’ll hold her own on that farm.”

  The preacher folded his arms across his chest. “Daniel Weaver put dead toads in the punch at the Valentine’s dance last month, and back in October, the twins started a stampede when they tried to ride Mr. Miller’s cows as he was herding them through town. They’re an unruly bunch they are!”

  “My sister Mary does have her hands full. Maybe that’s why she took to making hats …” Mrs. Quinn replied to no one in particular.

  “Will you look at the three of us?” Mable chastised. “We should be praying for that girl instead of wagering on how long she’ll last with the Weavers.”

  Mrs. Quinn let go a heavy sigh. “You’re right, of course. But … I am curious.”

  “About what?” Mable asked.

  Mrs. Quinn glanced around the room as she chewed on her lip. “Uh … I give her two weeks.”

  Mable groaned and rolled her eyes.

  “Well?” her husband prompted.


  Mable’s eyes darted between them. “Oh, all right. I give her one and a half.”

  They glanced at one another, before they burst into laughter, quieted, then started to pray.

  * * *

  Samantha sat next to Arlan in silence for the first half hour of the journey and took in the landscape. The town of Nowhere was surrounded by various orchards, farms, and patches of dense forest. She didn’t recognize the different types of trees and finally had to ask, “What is grown here?”

  “Apples mostly. Some pear.”

  She sighed. It seemed her husband was a man of few words when he traveled. “And what about the tall green ones over there?” she asked and pointed.

  He glanced in the direction she indicated. “They’re called fir trees. Looks like there’s some cedar mixed in with them.”

  She looked up at him. He glanced sideways at her then quickly looked away. “You warm enough?”

  “Yes, very. This is a nice coat.”

  “Good. You’re gonna need it.”

  She cringed at the sound of his voice. There was a sort of finality in it that made her wonder what sort of things he expected of her. What work awaited her at his farm? What was her life going to be like now? She had a flicker of her new husband acting like Uncle Burr, and she flinched.

  “What’s wrong?” Arlan asked. “There’s no need to be jumpy. I’m right here.”

  She straightened on the seat and looked ahead. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

  He looked at her. “That means you’re not fine.”

  “I am so,” she said as she glanced up at him. “I … I just ...”

  “You just what?”

  “I can’t explain it.”

  He pulled on the reins and brought them to a stop. She looked at him in a panic, unsure of what he was going to do. She was jumpy, more than she thought, and all because she thought of Uncle Burr. But this was not her old life; she had embarked on a new one. “When a woman says she’s fine, she usually isn’t,” he told her sternly.