MAIL ORDER BRIDE: Brides of Sawyerville - Box Set, Volume 1: Journeys to Sawyerville - Clean and Wholesome Western Romance (Sawyerville Brides Series)

by Debra Samms

  He nodded. "That's right. Not for socializing. An exception has been made tonight, since it was assumed that the brides would not wish to be separated for the wedding reception."

  "Oh, I'm so glad that did not happen! I am so happy that Lydia and Abigail are here. They were indispensable during the wagon journey, and I know it will be the same now that we are all living here."

  As the twilight settled over the land, candles were lit inside the dining hall and the dinner was served. "Oh, this food is excellent!" said Molly, digging into the slices of freshly roasted chicken with a mountain of cornbread dressing. All of it was flooded with hot gravy and was delicious. "Though our food on the trail was quite adequate, of course it could be nothing like this."

  Her new husband seemed quite amused, and nodded at the other two brides. "They seem to have not eaten since leaving Chicago," he whispered, watching as they cleaned their plates. "And you, not since leaving Ohio."

  For an instant Molly felt embarrassment, but when she saw the gleam in his eye she grinned. "Well, Captain Strong," she said, "you are looking at three brides on their wedding day. I do not think any one of us has eaten a single bite since last evening!"

  "Then I am glad you find the food to your liking. And please, Molly – my name is William."

  She blushed a little, but could not help smiling. "William. Yes."

  William reached for his own fork, but kept his gaze on Molly, and it was quite a long moment before she looked away and went back to enjoying her dinner.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Once the dinner was cleared away and coffee was served in the candlelit dining hall, Molly was delighted to see four musicians take up their places in the front corner of the room with a drum, a fiddle, a flute, and a small harp.

  "However did that harp happen to be here?" Molly wondered. "It's beautiful, but it must be so fragile."

  William shrugged. "No more than any other musical instrument. It's not so large; just a lap harp, but it's been in Private Monahan's family for generations and he takes it with him wherever he can. It's always nice to hear him play."

  When the musicians were ready, William stood up and held out his hand to Molly. "Will you dance?"

  She blushed again and gave him a delighted smile. "Of course," she said softly, and glanced over her shoulder to see that the other two brides were also standing up and walking out from behind their table.

  There was enough space between the wedding table and the rest of them to allow dancing. Molly suddenly felt very nervous again, for the last time she had danced at all had been at her wedding to Ted over four years prior.

  But then Captain Strong took her in his arms and they stepped off together in the waltz, swept away by the sweet notes of the harp and the soft beat of the drum. Molly caught her breath and suddenly found her eyes filling with tears, for both the beauty of the music and the magic of waltzing with the tall and very handsome officer.

  Who was also the man that she had just married.

  ***

  At last the wedding day was ended and the guests began leaving the dining hall. She could see the men glancing up at the brides' table with amused looks and outright smirks on their faces, but on catching the stern glare from Captain Strong they turned and faced straight ahead and walked on out of the hall as though they had somewhere very important to be in a hurry.

  The three brides and their husbands stood up from the table, and the women all turned and hugged each other.

  "Such a beautiful day!" said Lydia.

  "It really was perfect. Imagine having wildflowers and butterflies at your wedding!" added Molly.

  "There was never a finer wedding anywhere, even in Chicago!" said Abigail.

  "We can all walk together to the row of houses," said Molly. "I'm sorry, but in all the excitement of getting dressed I neglected to ask you which ones are yours!"

  The two other women, and all three of the men, just stood and gazed at Molly. "What is it?" she asked, looking from one puzzled face to the other.

  "I don't think you understand," said William. "Enlisted men sleep in tents."

  She paused. "Even – with their wives?"

  "Molly, the army makes no allowance for the wives of enlisted men," William went on. "Only for the wives of officers. Enlisted men are really not supposed to marry at all, though it is not always possible to prevent it."

  Seeing the expression on her face, he shrugged and tried to smile. "There is plenty of room here. No shortage of tents. There will be privacy. And there is plenty of opportunity for these two women to work as laundresses or even as servants to the officers' wives."

  "Which – right now – is only me." Molly shook her head, and looked closely at her two friends. "Will you be all right? Sleeping in a tent?"

  But the two of them smiled. "We knew that from the start," said Lydia.

  "I'd sleep in the cattle pens if it meant I could be with my husband," said Abigail, and Molly could do nothing else but smile at them.

  "All right, then. Go with your new husbands, and I will see you later tomorrow."

  Then, at last, they were gone, and William and Molly set out alone through the darkness to their home.

  ***

  The white duplex had already been prepared for them. Two kerosene lanterns burned downstairs – one in the parlor and the other in the dining room – and there were two more upstairs, one in each of the bedrooms.

  The entire house felt peaceful and welcoming. As Molly placed her bouquet of three bright yellow snow lilies on the dining room table in the pool of light from the lantern, it seemed to her that she belonged here . . . here in this very fine house, here in the Idaho Territory.

  Here with Captain William Strong.

  He waited now in the shadows near the foot of the stairs, watching her as she stood beside the table. "I'm sorry," Molly said. "I did not realize that poor Lydia and Abigail would not have a house to live in."

  "Didn't they talk to you about that on the journey here?" He laughed a little. "I should think that three young women about to marry soldiers would discuss every smallest detail of their lives to come."

  Molly laughed, too. "I suppose we did. But – now that I am here, I see that they may have been embarrassed to tell me – since I was to marry an officer – that they would almost certainly be living in tents and not in a house. They knew that they would not be in officers' quarters, of course, but seemed to think that there might be small cabins where they could live. They only said they would not know for certain until they arrived. Just as I did not know."

  "Or Privates Ross and Fisher did not want to say too much, lest their prospective brides change their minds."

  "Oh, that is certainly possible. But Abigail and Lydia are certainly making the best of whatever disappointment they might be feeling."

  "Indeed. They have been far less complaining than most of the men who come out here."

  She smiled at that. "I want to help them as much as possible. Making sure they have whatever necessities and comforts can be procured for them."

  "Of course. I will help you if I can."

  Her heart warmed even more at that. "Thank you. I knew I could count on you."

  William stepped out of the shadows at the foot of the staircase and stood in front of her. In the soft light of the lantern, he reached out and touched the small gold butterfly pin at the shoulder of Molly's blue wedding gown.

  "How did you know?" he asked.

  She looked down to see his fingers on the pin. The gold gleamed softly in the lanternlight. "What do you mean?" she asked. "This was just a pretty little brooch that my mother loved. She gave it to me just before I left."

  "You know that the name of this place is 'Fort Lapwai.'"

  "Yes, of course."

  "'Lapwai' is a Nez Perce Indian word meaning 'the place of the butterflies.'"

  "Oh . . . she breathed, thinking back to the lovely sight of the many butterflies flying up from the tall grass as the three brides had walked to the site o
f their weddings.

  And she suddenly caught her breath as William leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.

  He raised his head and smiled at her, and then took her by the hand and led her up the stairs.

  In a moment they stood together on the landing between the two bedrooms. Soft lanternlight glowed inside each of the rooms. Even though she'd been caught up in the warmth and magic of the day ever since the wedding, her concerns came surging back and threatened to leave a chill over her first night with her new husband.

  "William," she began, looking up at his tall figure in the shadowy landing. "This is has been the most wonderful day – far more special than I had dared to hope."

  He took her hand in both of his. "I am glad."

  "Yet there – there is a question that I must ask of you."

  "Ask," he said quietly, almost as if he knew what it would be.

  She withdrew her hand and took a deep breath. "If this is your house, then it must also be the one that you shared with you wife. With Sylvia."

  William stayed silent as Molly went on. "I am sure you can understand how – indelicate – I might find such a situation," she said, making herself go on. "Yet I have thought it over and I understand that in this far-off place, there is little accommodation that can be made."

  She walked a step or two towards the stairs. William slowly turned to keep facing her. "If you will tell me which bedroom you shared with Sylvia, I will be willing for us to take the other. I believe I will be comfortable with that."

  William hesitated for a moment, and then she thought she saw a small smile. "Dear Molly," he said gently, taking her hand between his once more, "I am sorry. I was so captivated when you arrived that I never thought to mention anything as simple as our living arrangements.

  "And once I saw you in your lovely blue gown, walking amid the wildflowers and the butterflies . . . " He shook his head. "I had no thought for anything else.

  He drew her hand up to his cheek. "Let me assure you, Molly, that I have only lived in this house for a few weeks. When you accepted my proposal of marriage, I traded homes with another officer as soon as possible. And so this is a new home to me, one I have never shared with anyone else . . . until now."

  William reached down and kissed her again. Molly could only close her eyes and try to breathe as he put his arms around her and she became lost in his warm embrace.

  "If you wish," he whispered in her ear, "you may stay in your own room tonight. Though it is true that we are married, it is also true that you only just arrived a few hours ago. I am willing to be patient, if it means that our marriage starts off well."

  Molly raised her head and looked at him, a little startled. "No," she whispered in return. "No. I do not want my own room. Not tonight. Not ever."

  He held her close again, and they walked together into the larger of the two bedrooms. William shut the door behind them.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The next day, Molly slipped out of bed early, got herself dressed, and crept downstairs to begin preparing breakfast. She had left her new husband upstairs to sleep in for a little while – something he rarely, if ever, had the chance to do.

  There was a small store of food in the house, and she was soon frying bacon in the cast-iron skillet and cutting lard into a bowl of flour for biscuits, as well as setting a pot of coffee on to boil.

  Before long there was the sound of boots coming down the stairs. Molly looked up to see William walk into the kitchen. He looked even more handsome to her now than he had at their wedding, and she closed her eyes when he gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek – though at the same time, in the cool light of day while working at ordinary kitchen tasks, she felt a bit of tension between them that had not been there yesterday.

  "Now, now, you had best step back and let your wife take care of this," said Molly, turning away from him. "And I hope my food is to your liking."

  "I have no doubt that it will be," he said, walking back and leaning against the open doorway. "Although after today, you will have no need to do all this."

  "No?" She frowned. "You haven't even tried my first breakfast yet!"

  "Oh, I will try it, and I will enjoy it," he said with a grin. "It's just that as an officer's wife, you are entitled to have servants in your house."

  "Yes, that's what I have heard," Molly said. "But – "

  "Since there are only two other wives of enlisted men here at this fort, you could have a striker or two instead," said William.

  "A – striker?"

  "Yes. An enlisted man assigned to you who will do any tasks you give him – chop wood, carry water, gather eggs, whatever you wish."

  "I see." Molly turned back and began separating the pieces of frying bacon with a long fork. "But – couldn't I have Lydia and Abigail as my servants?"

  "I'm sure it could be arranged," said William.

  "I would much rather have my two friends in my home with me instead of – instead of strange men."

  He shrugged. "That is fine. You may have those two women as servants, if you like. As the wives of enlisted men, they will be expected to work in any event."

  "Work?"

  "Well, they have no house to manage, or social activities to arrange, as you are expected to do. So, since they are living off of the army for food and shelter, they repay it through their work just as their husbands do."

  "I see."

  "And I'm sure they would find it much more pleasant to work for you instead of in the laundries or the kitchens."

  Molly nodded. "I had the same thought. Yes, I would like very much for my two friends to spend their days here with me. I'm sure that any housework or social planning I'd have for them would be much easier than endlessly peeling potatoes, or toiling away over copper kettles of steaming cotton shirts, for some one hundred fifty men at this fort."

  "Then it's settled. I'll see to it for you today."

  "Thank you. Oh, but – " She quickly turned around and moved the pieces of bacon around in the pan again. "I hope they will not be disturbed this morning. I'm sure that tomorrow will be soon enough."

  "I'm sure it will. Though you do know that you and I, along with your friends and their new husbands, will be driving out this afternoon."

  "Oh! Driving out?"

  "Yes. I want you, and them, to become oriented as to how the fort is laid out. You all must understand where you may go and where you may not."

  "Of course. That sounds like a very good idea." Molly placed the pan with the bacon to one side of the stove, since it was nearly done, and turned back to preparing the biscuits. She heard William moving behind her, and thought that perhaps he would kiss her again before going to sit down; but instead, he simply turned and walked into the dining room.

  Molly closed her eyes. It was all so strange. How could she be so drawn to a man she had only just met – married to him or not? Last night had been like a dream, but now – in the cold light of day – she felt almost embarrassed at the strength of her reaction to him.

  And guilty.

  She had been widowed for barely two years. What sort of woman was she, in truth? Molly felt torn in two between her powerful attraction to Captain William Strong and the awful nagging guilt that it was very, very wrong of her to feel that way.

  ***

  Soon Molly and William sat together at their dining room table eating the breakfast that she had prepared for him. There was plenty of crispy bacon along with a half dozen eggs fried in the bacon grease, and hot biscuits dripping with butter from the small stone crock. She'd found a small jar of blackberry preserves on a shelf and placed that on the table, too.

  "Now, this," William said, with his mouth full of biscuit and blackberry, "is as fine a breakfast as any I've ever had."

  She blushed a little. "Thank you," she said. "And if I may ask: Where did you get the butter? It's very good. Is there a dairy here, on the fort?"

  "No dairy, but there are a few settlers living out here and we can sometimes trade fresh be
ef or hides for butter or milk or extra eggs. It works out well for everyone."

  Molly spread a little of the butter on a biscuit, looking closely at it. "When I lived on the farm," she began, "I had a little wooden crate in my kitchen. It was lined with straw and then with sheets of tin. In the winter, I could put ice or snow in it and then use it to store butter or milk or fresh meat without having to go outside to fetch them." She smiled. "I used to cover the bottom of it with broken icicles. My mother called it my icicle box."

  William paused, and seemed to be thinking carefully. "The icicle box sounds like a wonderful invention, Molly. Did someone make it for you?"

  She looked down. "Yes," she whispered. "My husband made it. Ted was an inventor as well as a dairyman. He loved scientific things."

  "Tell me about him, Molly," William said gently.

  She sighed. "Well . . . he was a kind man. A good man. Very smart. He was among the first to attend college to learn the most modern farming methods. And he was first in his class."

  "I'm sure he was. Let me ask you this: How old was Ted?"

  "Well – he was – older than I was. He was forty-five years old when he died."

  "Forty-five . . . and so you were but twenty-four." He looked straight at her. "Did you find him handsome?"

  Molly blushed deeply and looked down at the floor. "As I said, he was a very good man and very kind to me. I was content."

  "Content, yes. But you did not answer my question: Did you find him handsome?"

  "I – he was – " She took a deep breath and faced William. "He was not quite so tall as I. He wore spectacles. His face was round and pale. But he was a good man and I can make no complaint about my life with him. Had he not died in an accident, I would still be there with him."