A Mid-Summer's Mail-Order Bride (5 page)

Bernice cringed at the mention of her family. Even if she were to marry in Independence, she wondered if she’d be able to stomach having her mother attend her wedding. But then maybe she and her mother would be getting along again. After all, if she ended up back in Independence, it could be years before she found a man to wed ...

Five

As luck would have it, when it came time to help out with supper, Summer gave Bernice the simplest job: slicing up the already-peeled potatoes. Happy to be doing something – and even happier that it didn’t involve actual cooking – Bernice sat and went to work. She wondered what it would be like to do this for her husband: cook for him (once she learned how), mend his clothes, darn his socks, do his laundry ...

Just how hard was an apple farmer on his clothes? She supposed she’d find out while staying with the Rileys – Clayton did a lot of work himself. But according to Mrs. Riley, he also brought in extra help when he needed it, and at harvest time everyone pitched in. She made it sound like a grand time.

She also told Bernice about the harvest festival Nowhere had each year as well as several other annual events, including a Valentine’s dance. “We just started a Valentine’s dance in Independence this year,” Bernice replied.

“Oh, lovely!” Mrs. Riley commented. “We’ve been having ours for years. Same with the harvest festival, and we do something at Christmastime as well. You’re going to love it here!”

Bernice tried to ignore the cold feeling in her belly.
If I stay long enough to find out,
she thought to herself. No, she couldn’t allow herself to think like that! What would Professor Hamilton and Mr. Winters say to her if they saw her despairing so? Probably scold her for having such a negative attitude. But how could she not after what Warren Johnson had said in town? He hadn’t even known she was coming. She had no guarantees …

“Bernice, are you done with the potatoes?” Elle asked.

“Oh, excuse me?” Bernice said as she looked up. “Almost.”

“Woolgathering?” Summer inquired. “Don’t worry – I did a lot of that before I was married.”

“Did you think about your dress a lot?” Bernice asked, curious if she struggled with the same line of thinking she was.

“No, I thought about how Clayton was going to pack me up on a stage and send me back to New Orleans. I about drove myself buggy with the thought.”

“Bernice sat up. “You
did?
What happened? Or rather, what did he do that made you think that?” Bernice wanted – no,
needed
– to hear this. Maybe it would make her feel better about Warren Johnson.

“It’s a funny story. Now – I didn’t find it amusing at the time.”

“Especially when Clayton shot her in the foot,” Elle said with a smile.

“What?” Bernice gasped. “He
shot
you?”

Summer sighed in recollection and nodded. “The moment we first met.”

“Good heavens!” Bernice said as she stood. She brought the bowl of diced potatoes to the stove and handed them to Elle. “Why would he do that?!”

“It was an accident,” Summer told her. “But had he not shot me, I suppose he might have sent me back. Because of my injury, I was forced to stay.”

“Clayton carried her everywhere,” Mrs. Riley said with a dreamy smile. “It was very romantic in its own way.”

Bernice’s eyes lit up. “He
carried
you?”

“He had to – I couldn’t walk. But when I got to the point where I could get around on crutches, he told me he missed carrying me from room to room.”

“My, that
is
romantic,” Bernice sighed.

“Suffice to say, it gave us some time to get to know one another and start to fall in love. But the first few days after being shot were torture. I was convinced he was going to ship me back even though I was injured. He even came to Doc Brown’s house where I was staying, plucked me up and carried me to the stage stop. I made a complete fool of myself until I saw his wagon parked behind it and found out he was taking me home with him.”

“I wish I’d been there to see that,” Elle said with a grin.

“I’m glad you weren’t.”

“And I’m glad he brought you home,” Mrs. Riley added with a wink. “Now I’ve got two grandchildren on the way!”

“How many children do you want?” Elle asked as she looked at Bernice.

Bernice took a step back. “I … I can’t even begin to think about children at this point ...”

Summer walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Trust me, if anyone knows what it’s like to wonder if your man is going to marry you, it’s me and Elle. It was downright awful for both of us, but only for a short time.”

Bernice looked at Elle. “What happened to you?”

“Well, mainly I wasn’t sure Spencer was going to arrest me or not.”

“Wh … what?” Bernice stuttered, then gaped at Mrs. Riley.

She nodded. “It’s true. Elle thought for the majority of her and Spencer’s courtship that she was a wanted murderess.”

Bernice backed up and fell into a chair. “Murderess?” came out a squeak.

“I shot a man in New Orleans, but that’s too long a tale to tell right now …”

“Elle!” Summer scolded. “You can’t leave poor Bernice hanging like that! She’ll think you’re going to pull a gun on her over dessert!”

Bernice had to admit to herself that the thought had crossed her mind. Had Elle been some kind of outlaw?

Summer quickly clarified. “It was in self-defense. There were some men in New Orleans taking young women captive into a life of … of ill repute, let’s say. One of them had already shot the bodyguard from the bridal agency that was taking her to the train. She fired back to protect him, and herself. But now that we’ve covered that, we need to get supper ready for the men.”

But Bernice continued to stare at Elle, eyes wide. Maybe being in the Riley household wasn’t such a good idea. What else were they going to spring on her before supper, or after? She gulped and glanced between the women as they casually went back to work preparing the meal.

On the other hand … maybe she could tell them about her kidnapping? Perhaps it would make her feel like she fit in better.

Clayton entered the kitchen, followed by Spencer. “Is supper ready yet, ladies?” he asked.

“Just about,” Summer told him as he came up behind her.

He put his arms around her and kissed her cheek. “How’s my sugar?”

Spencer went to Elle and did the same. “Mmm, fried chicken – my favorite.”

Bernice watched with envy as the couples greeted each other with kisses and giggles. A longing rose up from deep within, and she had to close her eyes. She didn’t want to feel that – it drove her to do things she thought she’d never do. But it also gave her a sense of strength and courage – and it had managed to get her out from under her mother’s thumb and helped her choose to become a mail-order bride.

Of course, now that she was one, the despair that accompanied the longing had only increased, due to her dream of marriage being threatened by Warren Johnson’s indecision. Would he marry her, or wouldn’t he? And what was she supposed to feel while twisting in the wind, waiting for him to make up his mind?

“Miss Caulder, we’ll have to show you around the farm tomorrow,” Clayton said as he came to the table and sat.

Spencer joined him. “More importantly, we’ll show you how to get to the Johnsons’ place.”

“Yes, it might be a good idea for you to go over there tomorrow,” Clayton suggested.

Bernice blanched. “Tomorrow? So soon? Shouldn’t I wait a day or two?”

“What for?” asked Spencer. “If you’re going to marry the man, it seems to me you need to get to know each other.”

Bernice felt a chill go up her spine. Why was it that every time they mentioned marriage, she felt so despondent? Oh, that’s right – because her hopes for marriage had been dashed just a few hours before. Regardless, she had to snap out of it!

“Summer or I can tag along,” Elle suggested. “In fact, why don’t you bake Warren a pie or some cookies to take with you? I’m sure that’ll help smooth things.”

“That would work on me,” Spencer said with a laugh.

“Me too,” Clayton agreed. “Good food is always a plus in a man’s world.”

Bernice sank a little in her chair. “Oh dear … I don’t think that will work.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Riley asked. “Don’t you know a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

“I’ve heard that,” Bernice said. “But I’m afraid my cooking would send a man running the other way.”

“Oh, now don’t tell me you can’t cook?” Mrs. Riley bemoaned.

Bernice hung her head and shook it slowly. “I’m afraid I don’t. My mother never taught me. I’ve made a few things, but not very well.”

“Don’t fret about that,” Summer said as she sat next to her. “We can at least teach you the basics before you’re married.”

“And because you’re going to live so close,” Elle added, “we can continue to teach you until you’ve learned enough to keep Warren happy.”

Bernice laughed nervously. “That could take years.”

“Nonsense, dear – a few months at most,” Mrs. Riley said with a wink.

Clayton looked from one face to the other. “You know, she doesn’t
have
to go over to the Johnsons’ right away …”

Summer got up, went to the stove and stirred the potatoes that were frying in the chicken grease. “No, she doesn’t. But perhaps Miss Caulder wants to.”

“Call me Bernice, please. I’d like to see Mr. Johnson – I’m just not so sure about baking anything for him.”

“How about if we do the baking and you do the taking?” Elle suggested. “And don’t worry, one of us will go with you. That way you’ll be properly chaperoned.”

Bernice took a deep breath. “All right, but I hope it’s not too soon.”

“Why would you think that?” Spencer asked.

Bernice shrugged. “Because he hasn’t had much time to think about it.”
But then again,
she thought,
maybe that’s a good thing.

* * *

The next day Bernice awoke to the smell of fried bacon and potatoes. She sat bolt upright, wondering how late she’d slept. Would they think she was lazy? Didn’t farmer’s wives get up before the sun did?

Of course, how would she know? She’d never lived on a farm before.

She got out of bed, dressed and hurried downstairs to the kitchen. She was in such a rush she didn’t even bother to put up her hair. “I’m sorry, did I miss anything? I must’ve overslept.”

“No, you’re fine,” Summer assured. “You had a long journey yesterday and none of us expected you to be up and about very early. Besides, I haven’t been up for long – maybe an hour.”

“What time is it?”

“Breakfast time. The men will be in any minute. They usually get up at dawn to get a few chores done. While they do that we make breakfast. I’m sure it will be the same at the Johnsons’.”

Bernice sighed in relief and sat at the table. “I don’t even know how to make coffee.”

“Will you stop worrying?” Summer said with a chuckle. “We’ll teach you. Though I am curious – do you come from a wealthy family? Did you grow up with servants?”

“Oh, heavens no,” Bernice laughed. “But my mother did most of the cooking, and she never figured I’d need to learn.”

“Why is that?”

Because she thought I would marry into a family that
did
have servants.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. She was always pushing me to ‘marry well’ – by which she meant ‘marry rich’.” Bernice stopped. Maybe she shouldn’t get into her mother’s lust for riches just yet, or at all. It was hardly good breakfast-table conversation. Besides, gossip wasn’t ladylike – Professor Hamilton had stressed that often enough. “But anyway, I guess I have a lot to learn.”

“And we’ll be more than happy to teach you,” Summer said as she turned back to the stove. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I can get it myself – you don’t have to wait on me.”

“I don’t mind. Besides, you’ll have a lot of work to do once you’re married. You might as well enjoy having somebody pour you a cup of coffee now.”

Bernice cringed. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at working either. I learned as much about hard work as I did about baking.” She sighed and looked at her lap. “I guess I’m not very prepared to be a farmer’s wife.”

“No more prepared than Elle or I was when we first got here – we had work to do when we grew up, but we were city girls born and bred. Thankfully, the men do all the heavy work – we just cover the rest.”

“Yes, but there’s three of you women on the farm. I’m sure that helps considerably. There’s only going to be one of me once I’m married.”

“True, but you’ll have two men working the place.”

“One of which, as I understand it, is old.”

“You’d be surprised what Old Man Johnson can do once he gets going, but I see your point. However, there’ll be only the three of you to feed and do the mending for. In this house we’ve got five – soon to be seven. So don’t let me hear you complaining,” she added with a smile.

Bernice stifled a giggle. She did feel better now. “I’ll try not to. Thank you for teaching me.”

Summer turned to her and smiled. “I’m sure you’d do the same for either one of us if we’d come to your town.”