by Rose Jenster
Yours,
Luke
Tess went to her mother with the letter, a flurry of happy tears. She cast herself into her mother’s embrace.
“You have had his letter, I see. We received ours two days hence,” her mother clucked.
“I have indeed. Do you approve? Does Father give his blessing?”
“Your father would like to speak with you about this matter himself after dinner.”
“Is he—refusing his blessing, Mother?” She looked up with tears in her eyes.
“I do not believe he is set against it exactly, only that your young man doesn't know how we do things out East and may have stepped on his toes a mite,” her mother warned.
“Oh, I am sorry! I know he means well, if I can make Father understand—“
“It wouldn’t do to take up for him to your father, Tessie. He is taking it hard that you are to wed and move so far off. Don’t take this man’s part against your kin,” her mother cautioned her.
“Oh, I only meant to explain, not to take his side. I’ll be careful, though. I don’t want to grieve you and father, truly I don’t,” Tess said, sniffing.
Tess could hardly eat her dinner for nervousness. When her father was finished and she’d cleared the table, her mother shooed her away from the dishes and back to her father.
“Teresa, sit down. I got a letter from your suitor,”
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.
“While he seems a good enough chap in writing, he’s insulted me greatly.”
“Oh, Father, I’m so awfully sorry! What happened?” she asked, curbing her desire to defend Luke.
“He’s sent me a stack of bank notes to outfit you for your journey. Says the West is mighty cold, and you’ll need certain clothes and things as well as anything you want for your household. Talks like I can’t provide a trousseau for my daughter,”
“I’m sorry, Father. What would you counsel me to do?”
“You may hand him his money back when you meet him,” her father said gruffly and Tess vaulted into his arms gratefully.
“You won’t stop me from going then?”
“If you’ve a mind to cast your lot in with this sheepherder, I’ll not stand in your way. Just you keep in mind who is paying the bill for your traveling clothes. You don’t belong to him just yet, missy,” he said affectionately.
“Yes, sir,”
“Do you suppose that woman you work for will make you a good price on your trousseau or must you go to the competition?” he asked with a twinkle.
“I know just what I’ll have. There’s a deep blue wool I’ve had my eye on that would make a sturdy traveling suit,” she said.
“Talk to your mother about finery,” he said dismissively.
Tess and her mother went over the lengths of fabric at Mrs. Winthrop’s the following morning. They selected the blue wool, a light cashmere in deep green, some flannel for petticoats and drawers, a new set of hoops, a printed lawn for a new summer frock, and a calico stripe for a bustled skirt and peplum jacket. As they worked in the evenings to assemble her garments, Tess and her mother read over the invitation letter from Leah, the congratulatory letter from her sister in West Virginia, and the sweet wishes sent in notes from the Bible study group.
Those good ladies had given her a pretty lace collar, some toweling, and a tablecloth for her new home. They had also written out some of their best recipes for her to try once she was a wife with a husband to feed. Her entire trousseau was ready, and she had completed her last day at Mrs. Winthrop’s, tucking the last of her wages into her valise.
Her father worked hard at the mill, and she knew that any extra money was scarce. She had paid Mrs. Winthrop about half the cost of her clothing from Luke’s money, unwilling to burden her parents with the charges. She took a ten-dollar note from her savings and slipped it into the linen press for her mother to find later. She wondered if she might contrive to do some light sewing or alterations in Montana for a bit of pocket money to send home.
All the long train ride, she wrote a rambling letter to Luke about her journey—it’s amusements and discomforts as well as her anticipation of seeing him at last. When those days had finally passed in the cramped and stinking quarters of the rail like, Tess attempted to tidy herself and stepped off the train at Billings. Her first thought was that the air was colder by far even in the brittle light of autumn. Tess shivered a little in her serviceable gray wool dress from two winters ago….She hadn’t wanted to risk her new wardrobe to the cinders and ash of the train.
Squinting for a sight of Luke as she’d imagined him, she saw Leah looking happy and plump with a child in her arms and a serious-faced man at her side. Tess went to them, and Leah gave her a one-armed hug while balancing the baby on her hip and beaming joyously.
“I talked Luke round to letting us meet you so you can freshen up before he sees you. When I came off that train, I felt at such a disadvantage—oh, Tess, it is good to see you! This is Henry Rogers, my husband, and Pearl.” She handed Tess the baby who chewed her fist and looked around curiously.
They walked the length of the street with Henry pushing a barrow behind them.
“Thank you for meeting me. I’ve gifts for you from Jane and Walter in my trunk. Pearl is lovely,” Tess faltered.
“I know you’re disappointed that he didn’t meet you, but I convinced him to let me have you first. I was that miserable when I met Henry. I mean, I thought him quite handsome, and I felt so disheveled. You’ll have a bath, and we’ll dress your hair and give you a cup of strong coffee, and then you can face him,” Leah said decisively.
Tess let herself be rushed off and primped, sinking into a bath almost sadly, then letting Leah comb out her hair and twist and pin it up. She donned a blue gown, and Leah fastened a pearl pin to the shoulder.
“You look lovely,” she said with a smile.
“Not as lovely as your home. This inn is so—much more than I expected. Your husband must be quite successful,” she said shyly.
“Yes, he is,” Leah said in her frank way, “only imagine how happy I am to have you here! Oh, Tessie!” She embraced her friend.
“Thank you for everything, for all of this,” Tess whispered, overcome.
“Luke is coming to call at 4:00. You’ll have about an hour together before dinner, and then you can rest after he leaves,”
“You’re orchestrating us!” Tess giggled.
“I suppose I am. When I was a teacher I was accustomed to being in charge…” she smiled.
Leah led Tess out to their front room where a man was perched diffidently on a velvet settee. He jumped to his feet at the sight of her. Luke had dark hair, a beard darkening his lantern jaw and piercing eyes that seemed to miss nothing. He wore what had to be his brown Sunday suit, good hat held in one hand. She drank him in from the shine on his boots to the tanned column of his throat rising from the stiff collar. He looked ill at ease—an outdoorsman more comfortable in dungarees and flannel with tools or a shotgun in his hands rather than towering over everyone in Leah’s back parlor. Outsize with his powerful build and thick shoulders, Luke seemed to fill the room and dwarf its assortment of dainty ornaments on the side table.
Tess stopped staring and cast her eyes down, remembering her manners, at last, and feeling shy about her own appearance in the face of his rugged handsomeness. His gaze swept her from head to foot swiftly, and he stepped forward, holding out his hand.
“I’m Luke Cameron, Miss—“
“You mustn’t call me ‘miss’ anything, Luke,” Tess said warmly, clasping his hand.
“Did you have a good journey?”
“It was an adventure,” she demurred. “I’m afraid I wrote most of it down in a letter along the way to occupy myself, so you’ll be obliged to read about it soon,”
“I’ll look forward to that. I’m more comfortable reading and writing than in person, it seems. Would you care to—I suppose you can’t walk out to my homestead in that dress…we should just sit
here,” He subsided onto the settee uncomfortably.
“I’ve little experience of courting myself,” she offered.
“I have some experience at it, but it doesn’t seem to be helpful just at the moment,”
“You have?”
“I was, well, there’s no polite way to say this, but I waited until we met to tell you. I was married once before,”
“Oh,” Tess was utterly taken aback. Married before? Why hadn’t he told her? Had his wife…left him?
“My wife passed away in the same influenza epidemic that took my father’s life,” he explained.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly.
“Thank you. I thought you should know that.” He stopped, and they lapsed into awkward silence. Tess stole glances at him, torn between thinking him handsome and being so startled that he had been married previously. Suddenly, he began again, “I spoke to Wilford at the dry goods store, and he said his wife may have some sewing for you to do if you want something to keep your hands busy while we get acquainted,”
“Oh, that’s thoughtful of you, thank you. I thought I would join in Mrs. Gibson’s quilting circle I’ve read so much about and Leah’s embroidery class. That would round out my domestic crafts I suppose,” she tried to smile.
“We’ve had fine weather lately. No storms,” Luke said.
“It seems lovely. The air smells spicy, like the spruce trees I expect,” she ventured.
“Yes, we have many trees,” he faltered. “I’d best not keep you from your dinner. I shall see you at church services tomorrow. Welcome to Billings,” he said and took his leave, retrieving his hat and beating a path to the door without even bidding Leah goodbye.
Bemused, Tess found Leah in the kitchen and dropped into a chair dejectedly.
“Oh, Leah, he hardly said a word except to tell me he was widowed, which I had no idea….” She dropped her head into her hands.
“Don’t give up hope, Tessie. Henry acted like a mute when we met. He took a while to be at his ease with me. It wasn’t until we were set upon by bandits and he saved me that he really was himself around me. It’ll take time. Just you wait,” Leah advised, jostling Pearl on her hip as she stirred the potatoes, “Besides, he brought us most of the produce we’re eating from his garden as a thank you. So this dinner is a sort of tribute to you from him. These men out west aren’t much for words at first—" she smiled.
Tess nodded half-heartedly. She had hoped for a much warmer reception, like the meeting of old friends, not the uncomfortable silences of two strangers with little to say. She wished, in retrospect, that she had taken his hands, even lifted her cheek for a kiss of greeting. Then her cheeks sizzled at the memory of his letter, the one she carried in her valise—the one that spoke of kissing her good morning and all the matrimonial affections that suggestion carried.
Surely, the man who could write so warmly would find his footing with her soon enough, perhaps when she went over his homestead after church services. With that hopeful thought, she fell into the sleep of exhaustion.
At church services the following day, she tried to keep her back ramrod straight as her mother had trained her and ignore the whispers. Leah warned her that her modest eastern clothes would be the height of fashion and cause a stir, as would the fact that she was a newcomer and journeyed so far to marry Luke Cameron. He was standing outside the church awaiting them and offered her his arm. She felt a blush steal over her pale face at the warmth of his arm, solid and strong beneath her gloved hand.
Even through those layers of fabric between them, the sedate, decorous walk to a pew left her bubbling over with a welter of feelings—shyness, excitement, something like recognition or familiarity that she assumed was a surge of affection at finally standing at his side, holding his arm. Tess felt that she was exactly where she belonged.
All through Mr. Gibson’s edifying sermon, she stole glances at Luke from beneath her bonnet brim. Tess could not keep her mind on the service. Seeing her distraction, Leah placed Pearl on Tess’s lap so Tess could coo over the baby and hide her blushes thus.
After services, Luke claimed her hand, laying it on his arm with practiced smoothness. She felt a pang as she thought of him squiring his wife to church like this, guiding her through the crowd. It grieved her both for his own heartbreak, and in some small selfish, unworthy way, that she was not to be his first love, his one and only bride.
Mrs. Gibson, the pastor’s wife, greeted her warmly and spoke highly of Leah. She accepted Mrs. Gibson’s invitation to join the ladies for quilting that week, and she felt the sincerity of that good woman’s welcome. After setting a time to meet back at the inn for supper, Tess and Henry found themselves alone together, walking out of Billings toward his homestead.
He pointed out the different businesses—the bank, the mercantile, the feed store, the saloons—as well as the mayor’s opulent home, the sheriff’s place with the jail, and the new city hall building with its addition for the fire brigade.
“I built that bit on myself. After they had finished the building, they decided to add on a place for the public works tools,” he remarked.
“Why, you’re quite a builder, aren’t you? Your letters led me to believe that you merely fixed loose stair railings or hung pictures and the like. You’re a craftsman, Luke!” she said.
As they reached the edge of town, he paused and fumbled in his pockets sheepishly. She couldn’t help but think how handsome he was, how his face looked almost youthful beneath the suntan and beard as he hunted for something in his pockets like a small boy.
“I made this. I thought you might like it,”
Luke held out a small object, dropped it in the palm of her glove. A perfectly smooth wooden thimble lay there, an intricate pattern of acorns etched along the beautiful surface.
“Oh, Luke,” she said with tears in her eyes, “It’s the loveliest thing anyone has ever given me. So thoughtful, too, for my sewing. I was forever borrowing mother’s silver thimble because I lost my tin one constantly. This one I’ll never misplace, though. I couldn’t bear to lose it—“ she gushed, smiling up at him, her face full of faith and affection.
“I’m glad you like it,” was all he replied.
She wrapped the thimble carefully in a handkerchief and placed it in her pocket for safekeeping before resuming his arm and walking on. The houses and outbuildings gave way to open space, to flat grassy expanses with a dirt road winding of toward the mountains.
“They’re so blue,” she said. “I always expected the mountains to be gray or brown. I thought the landscapes I’d seen were only painters romancing the mountains and making them look more magical…but I see now that it’s true. I just love them. I’ve never seen so much open space, so much clear air, and the sky so wide above us,”
“I was afraid you would think it lonesome out here,” he said slowly.
They walked on, and she was grateful for her sturdy boots. They had passed tilled fields and pastures, then reaching a fence line he gestured toward expansively.
“This is the Cameron Homestead,” he said.
“All of this?” she ventured.
There were several huge fenced pasture areas, only one containing a great flock of wooly sheep, a stable and livestock shed, a new stone smokehouse, and a cabin. The cabin was no ordinary two-room structure built to look like a box, but a proper house with a front porch and a broad picture window looking out to the mountains. He took her over to the fence where the flock grazed and explained his pasture rotation.
The garden, a massive plot that was really a field, had row upon row of abundant produce. Sweet corn was tasseling, cabbages, peppers, and tomatoes thick in their rows. She admired it all breathlessly, overwhelmed.
“I’ve added a bigger stand of wheat out back this year so we can have our own flour. Salt, sugar, coffee, and tea…that’s about all the place doesn’t produce,” he said proudly.
“It’s magnificent,” she breathed. “It’s so much more than I expected,�
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“Come see if you like the look of the cabin.”
Inside, the front room had been newly papered in cream figured with tiny pale green swirls like wispy leaves. A formal divan and two chairs stood facing a fireplace of local stone in browns and tans. A family Bible stood on a table, and she found herself drawn to it, touching its fine gilt-edged pages reverently. Past the front parlor was the kitchen with a big, obviously new table and chairs, a cookstove and cupboards, and another stone fireplace, this one fitted with a rotisserie spit for roasting meat. She admired the table, trailing her hand across its smooth surface.
“Did you make this yourself?”
“Yes. I made it for—for your visit, I suppose I should say. You’ve come here, from so far off, and I guess I’m so—honored that you’ve come here for me that I don’t rightly know what to say to you. I’m better with making things, building things, than with talk, but I want to make sure you know how pleased I am that you agreed to come to Montana.”
“I was very pleased to be asked, Luke. Your home is beautiful, and I am more than impressed with the life you’ve built for yourself. Now, I want to know you. Not the shepherd or the carpenter, but the man. Will you sit down with me for a spell and talk to me?”
“If that is your wish,” he said reluctantly, taking a seat for the first time at the new table. “Would you like me to make something for you to eat first? Tea?”
“I’d rather have your attention just now. We can make shift for a luncheon in a bit. Please sit down. I’m not going to bite you! You behave as though it will be a trial,” she teased.
“I feel almost as though I’ve played you a trick, and you’re about to find it out…that I am only interesting or have a hope at winning your regard on paper when I’ve time to consider my words thoroughly. It’s like examination day at school, and I should stand to recite the order of the kings of England,” he said.