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Authors: Beverly Jenkins

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The train from Detroit was late, which only added to Eli’s nervousness. When it finally arrived in a hail of smoke, whistles, and brimstone, he had to inhale deeply to regain a semblance of calm. Dressed in his best brown suit and with his Sunday hat in hand he searched the faces of the passengers exiting from the train for the man he’d come to greet. A woman with two small children stepped down onto the platform first, followed by a bearded elderly man and an equally old woman. When no one else appeared, he wondered if maybe Hicks had missed the train somehow, and
his feelings began to deflate. Then down stepped a portly dark-skinned man sporting graying muttonchops, and dressed in a fine black vested suit and snow white shirt, and Eli began to relax, even as the nervousness took wing again. G. W. Hicks. Had to be him. The newspaper magnate looked a bit rumpled as would be expected after the long journey from New York, but he had an air of authority about him that seemed to radiate.

Eli walked over and inquired politely, “Mr. Hicks?”

The man gave him a quick up and down. “Yes. And you are?”

Eli stuck out his hand. “Eli Grayson. Welcome to Michigan, sir.”

“Pleased to meet you, Grayson,” he offered with a firm grip. “Hoped my letter would arrive ahead of me. Post can be slow.”

“Yes, it can. I received your letter yesterday. Do you have a trunk?”

“I do.”

“Then let’s find the porter so we can be on our way.”

On the ride back to the Grove, Hicks seemed content to enjoy the view. He didn’t volunteer any conversation so Eli remained silent, too, but he could see his visitor taking in the trees and the rolling land with what appeared to be appreciative eyes.

Hicks finally asked, “You born here?”

“Yes, sir. My grandparents settled here back in the thirties.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Came here from Carolina.”

“All that way?”

Eli nodded.

“I was born in Philadelphia. There’s a good-sized rural area still within the city’s boundaries but nothing as grand as this. Land here takes a man’s breath away.”

The assessment pleased Eli. “That it does.”

“What are the winters like?”

“Harsh and long, but when spring finally comes, we’re reminded why my grandparents chose this place.”

“Beautiful country.”

Eli sensed he’d passed the first hurdle. It was as if the land knew it needed to make a good impression and was showing itself off with style. The sun was shining and the sky was blue. It had rained last night for a short time and as a result the countryside was lush and emerald green for as far as one could see.

“Beautiful country,” Hicks voiced again before lapsing back into silence.

Eli wanted to discuss the reason for the visit but decided it best to wait and let Hicks initiate the conversation.

They made it to town an hour later, and as they slowly drove down Main Street Eli pointed out the businesses.

Hicks glanced around. “No idea you lived in such a small town. Your editorials have such scope I assumed you were from larger environs.”

Inside, Eli grinned in response to the praise. Outwardly, he showed only polite calm. “I wasn’t aware you knew anything about my writing until your letter arrived, sir.”

“Know a lot about it. Know you’re a Democrat, too.”

Eli stilled, and forced his voice to remain casual. “That going to be a problem?”

“If it was son, I wouldn’t have come,” he stated bluntly. “I like a man willing to climb out on a limb. Even when I think he’s wrong.”

Eli knew that Hicks and Adam Crowley would hit it off right away should the two ever meet. “My stepfather holds the same opinion.”

“Sounds like a smart man.”

Eli drove on. He could see folks on the walks eyeing his passage. Everyone knew Eli would be bringing the newspaper man to town that day. A few people even called out welcomes to Hicks, and that seemed to surprise him as well.

Eli explained, “There are no secrets in a place as small as this. Everybody knows who you are and why you’re here.”

“And why do they think I’m here?’

“To put the
Gazette
back into business.”

Hicks didn’t comment but asked instead. “How many people here can read?”

“Everybody. Male and female. It’s the law.”

“The law?”

Eli met his startled eyes. “Yes, sir. If you’re born here you have to attend school.”

“Females, as well?”

“Particularly females. My grandmother Dorcas had that written into the Grove’s original charter.”

“How interesting.”

“Men from other places who marry Grove women don’t always appreciate having a wife who can think circles around them. We on the other hand don’t mind. Accustomed to it, I guess.”

Hicks sat back. “Incredible.”

Eli smiled inwardly. Incredible indeed.

They rolled past the doc’s office with the big sign out front Nate had erected a few years back.

“Town has a doctor?”

“Yes, sir. My cousin-in-law, Viveca.

“Viveca? The doctor’s a female?”

“Yes. She’s originally from California. Got her training at the Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania.”

“Prestigious institution.”

“We’re grateful to have her. Not many townships have their own doc.

“Or a lending library.” Hicks nodded at the building as they rode by. “Who’d have thought such a small place could be so progressive? I’m very impressed, Grayson.”

“Thank you, sir.” Eli’s voice was even-toned but inside he was cheering.

As they drove by the storefront that had housed the
Gazette
, Eli pointed it out, and Hicks replied, “Looking forward to seeing the inside.”

“Whenever you’re ready, sir.”

 

Because of all the prizes and ribbons their beautiful hand-stitched quilts had won at county fairs over the years, Caroline Ross, Poppy Pernell, and Brenna Sanders were known as The Quilt Ladies. The elderly ivory-skinned ladies with their antebellum hoop skirts and elaborately coiffed gray ringlets considered themselves morally superior to their neighbors due to the miscegenation in their bloodlines. As a result, when they weren’t winning prizes they were overseeing the morals of the Grove whether the residents wanted them in their business or not.

Usually they acted like queens among the rabble, but when Eli introduced them to Hicks, they fluttered around him like butterflies.

Caroline Ross, wearing a faded green gown with hooped skirts, stepped forward and gushed, “Welcome to the Grove, Mr. Hicks. I’m Caroline Ross. We are honored to have such a distinguished guest in our midst.”

Hicks looked surprised by both her and her attire and he eyed Eli for a moment, but Eli kept his face void of reaction as Hicks replied, “Thank you, Miss Ross.”

She then introduced the others: Poppy, who owned the house, and the violet-eyed Brenna.

“I hope you won’t be put off by the Grove’s country ways,” Brenna stated “We’ve been doing our best to bring a modicum of culture here.”

“On the contrary, I’m finding the Grove to be most progressive.”

“Really?” From her voice one would have thought he’d voiced a preference for women with twin heads.

Hicks explained, “You have a doctor and a lending library. Not many places can boast that.”

“Our doctor has Spanish blood. She’s really quite the lady,” Poppy said with a smile. Of the three Quilt Ladies, Poppy got along with the rest of the Grove the best.

“Just don’t play billiards with her,” cracked a new voice. Out of the back walked Maddie Loomis dressed in her usual brown buckskins. In spite of her unconventional attire, she was one of the most beautiful women in the county: tall, lean, with jet black eyes, and the sleek fluid movements of a cougar.

Hicks blinked.

Eli made the introductions. “Mr. G. W. Hicks, Maddie Loomis. She runs the lending library.”

Maddie stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

The gesture seemed to throw him, too, then he shook. “Pleased to make your acquaintance as well.”

She turned to Caroline. “I think the dogs got all the rats in your cellar. If you see anymore just let me know.”

“Thanks, Maddie.”

“You’re welcome. Mr. Hicks, nice meeting you, Eli. See you later.”

“Bye, Maddie.”

Hicks watched her departure, then seeming to realize he was still staring at the door through which she’d exited, he shook himself back to the matter at hand.

Caroline asked, “Would you like to see your room now.”

“Yes. Please.”

Eli sensed Maddie had made an impression but wasn’t sure whether it had been good or bad.

They were taken to a spacious bedroom on the second floor. Putting down his leather travel bag, Hicks looked around. “This will do nicely, Miss Ross.”

“We hoped it would. Would you like something to eat? We’ll be serving luncheon in about thirty minutes.”

“I’d like that. In the meantime, Grayson, why don’t you show me your operation.”

“I’d be honored.”

 

At the
Gazette
office Eli stuck the key in the lock. “I took down the glass, so I’m not sure how much you’ll be able to see.”

Once the door was opened, he lit a lantern to supplement the swath of sunlight streaming in behind them.

Hicks stared around the dimly lit space, then settled his gaze on the printing press. “Pretty old press.”

“I believe
ancient
is more the word, sir.”

“Only the one?”

Eli nodded.

Hicks took another slow look around, then said, “I’ve seen enough.”

On the ride back to the boardinghouse, Hicks kept his thoughts to himself. Eli didn’t say anything either, but he was worried because of the visit’s brevity. When they reached their destination, Hicks stepped down from the wagon. “I’m going to go in and get something to eat, then rest up for a bit. I’d like to have supper with you this evening if we can. What time do they serve?”

“Four. Doors close at six.”

“Then let’s plan on five. Do they happen to have a private room?”

“Yes. Ask Mrs. Ross. She’ll arrange it.”

“I’m impressed by you and your town, Grayson. Since I don’t own any newspapers in this area, we ought to be able to work something out.”

An elated Eli wanted to jump up and down. “Thank you, sir.”

“Bring your books and your wife. Like to meet her, too.”

“My wife?”

Hicks nodded. “Only hire married men. Been my experience that bachelors are unreliable and undependable. A man with a wife and family will give you an honest-day’s work.”

Eli froze.

“She can come, can’t she?”

“Uh. Yes. Yes, she can.”

“Good. Looking forward to our discussion.”

“So am I, sir.”

Hicks walked to the door and Eli turned the wagon around. Stunned and speechless he drove away. He supposed he should have told the man the truth, but he’d been so taken aback by the ramifications of the caveat, he’d said the first thing that popped into his head. Now it was too late. If he went back and confessed, Hicks would not only find another newspaper to fund, he’d think Eli was a liar. Outdone, he asked himself, “Where in hell am I going to find a wife?”

I
t was wash day, and a weary Jewel Crowley was glad she was almost done. Doing laundry for her five brothers was work enough, but when sheets, pillow slips, shirts and the rest were tossed in, it was a wonder she got it all done before the sun went down. At twenty-four years of age, she was by society’s measure a spinster. She had no husband and no prospects for one, but she had plenty of wash, she thought wryly, adding six more pairs of denims to the nearly full clotheslines strung between the trees in the field next to the house. She blamed her lack of suitors on the Grove’s remote location—no one of any interest ever came to the Grove—and on the fact that Adam Crowley was her father, and Noah, Abraham, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Paul were her brothers. No potential suitor in his right mind would come calling knowing he’d have to face down six burly lumber beasts guarding her like archangels girded for war, so her life was rooted with them instead. Not that she minded. She had a good life, good family and friends, but when
she went Home to the Lord, she wanted to have something on her headstone besides She Took Care of Her Brothers.

Jewel was intelligent enough to know she could have a full life without a husband. She had only to look at Viveca, who’d been a doctor before marrying Nathaniel Grayson, or Abigail, who instead of spending her widowed years pining for a mate, had focused her energies on ways to uplift the race and women as well. Even Jewel’s good friend Maddie, whose unconventional past had made her a pariah to many in the Grove, had settled into a good life with her books and her hunting dogs. Jewel herself was noted for her committee work and her way with roses, a talent that gave her income and some measure of independence, but she didn’t want to be still doing wash while the world passed her by and when she was old and gray.

She’d just started hanging up the last tub of wet clothes when she saw Eli Grayson’s buggy pull to a stop in front of the house. She’d heard about the fancy New York publisher who was coming to town to talk about the
Gazette
. She hoped the meeting between the two would go well. Everyone else in town missed reading Eli’s newspaper, even if he was a Democrat.

“Afternoon, Jewel,” he said walking up, giving her that smile. Jewel had known Eli her entire life. He was wearing his lady-killer smile. She was immediately suspicious.

“Eli,” she replied as she hung up socks. “What brings you by?”

“Just thought I’d stop over and see how you were.”

“Oh really? Can’t remember you ever doing that before.”

“Is there a law against me inquiring after your health?”

“Eli, I’m busy here and I have supper to get ready. What are you fishing for?”

“You doubt my motive?”

“Is my pa a Republican?”

He covered his heart with a hand. “You wound me, fair maiden.”

She shook her head at his silliness. “What do you want?”

“Have this problem and I need a favor.”

“What type of problem and what type of favor?”

“G. W. Hicks is in town to talk about maybe adding the
Gazette
to his stable.”

“I heard. How’s it faring?”

“Well, he has this small stipulation.”

“And it is?”

“I need a wife.”

She snorted a laugh before she could stop herself.

“You find that funny?”

“You need a wife like a goat needs an embroidery hoop.” She hung up another pair of socks. There were so many she wondered if they were somehow breeding when nobody was looking.

“I’m serious, Jewel.”

“And I’m not?”

Eli knew this would be difficult; Jewel Crowley could be as irascible as her pa. “This may be my last chance to make something out of the
Gazette
. His papers are read all over the country. I can’t let this opportunity pass.”

“You’re not making sense. What does Hicks buying the
Gazette
have to do with you needing a wife?”

“Hicks believes bachelors are undependable and unreliable.”

She stopped. “Should I speak to that or remain silent?”

“The latter, please.” His smoke black eyes twinkled with amusement. She also had one of the wittiest tongues in the Grove. “Hicks won’t consider the
Gazette
unless I have a wife.”

She fished more socks out of the tub and added them to the line. “So, who are you marrying? Do you need me to make a cake? Is that what this is about?”

“No, Jewel. I figure, if I can get someone to pretend to be my wife for the short time Hicks is here, no one will be the wiser.”

She shrugged and, after hanging up the last two socks, picked up the empty tub and rested it on her hip. “Sounds half-baked to me, but if you believe you can pull it off, I’ll keep your secret if I run into Hicks while he’s here.” She walked away.

Eli raised his eyes to the heavens for strength, then hurried to catch up with her.

“Hicks wants to meet her at dinner this evening.”

“Okay. So who’re you going to ask?”

“You.”

She stopped, stared and began to laugh. “Me? Did you fall out of bed on your head this morning? I’m going to fix dinner.”

He touched her gently on the arm. “Do I look as if I’m laughing?”

Jewel searched his face again, the handsomest male face in the county. “You have women in Kalamazoo, Chicago, and all points in between. Use one of them.”

“None of them can be here by five this evening.”

“Then find someone else. What about Lenore?” Lenore’s father, James, ran the Grove mill. She was silly and vain, but she was unmarried.

“Lenore Wilson couldn’t keep a secret if she was dead.”

“What about Celeste Keppler over in Niles?”

“She’s a lumber beast, Jewel. The rest of the time she doesn’t even wear shoes.”

“So shallow, Eli.”

His lips thinned. “This is not funny.”

“No, it’s not, but I’m out of suggestions.” She was once again in motion and striding through the cropped grass toward the house.

“Jewel—”

“Go away, Eli. I don’t have time for your foolishness.”

“Jewel, if you’d just listen.”

“I’ve heard all I need to hear. No.”

“Please, Jewel—”

“Pestering me to death is not going to change my mind.”

He gently grabbed her hand to keep her near. “You’re the only choice I have.”

Jewel ignored the warmth from his touch sliding up her arm, or at least tried to. “Then you are in a serious fix,” she pointed out disengaging her hand.

“That’s why I’m here. I truly, truly need your help.”

“And so will my reputation when word gets out that I pretended to be your wife.”

“Your reputation will be fine. We’re just going to have dinner with him. It isn’t like we’re going to stand up and make a grand announcement that we’re married. Afterwards, we’ll tell him you went to visit a sick aunt in Muskegon, or some other place. He’ll only be here a couple days. He’ll never have to see you again, or you him. Please, Jewel. Think about what the
Gazette
means to the Grove.”

“Think about what size skinning knife my pa’s going to use on your hide if he finds out.”

“He won’t.”

“Why not ask Maddie?”

“Hicks has already met her. Please, Jewel, I’m begging. I’ll do anything you ask in exchange. I’ll grovel, crawl on my belly like a snake. I’ll eat worms, dirt. You name it, I’ll do it.”

The fervent plea sounded so boyish, she couldn’t keep her smile from showing.

“That smile gives me hope.”

“Save the charm for your mistresses.”

Eyes filled with humor, he went silent for a moment then asked again, softly, “Please, Jewel.”

She sighed. “If I say yes, I know I’m going to regret it. I can feel it as sure as I can feel the sun on my face.”

“You won’t, I promise. One hour. That’s all. Nothing’s going to happen. We’ll be dining in the Quilt Ladies’ private room. No one will even know what we’re discussing.”

“Can’t you just tell him the truth?”

“If I do, he’ll bankroll a newspaper somewhere else because he’ll think I’m a liar.”

“Which in this case you are.”

“Jewel, please. Please.”

She sighed again and ran her hands over her face. “Okay. One dinner. One hour. One. That’s all.”

“Thank you!” Grabbing her around the waist, he swung her around and the pleasure in his dark face made him even more handsome. “Thank you!”

Laughing, she protested, “Put me down, you loon!”

“I could kiss you.”

“Don’t.”

He set her down.

The power of him was so overwhelming, she had to turn away or become a puddle at his feet. Grabbing hold of herself, she kept her tone cool. “We’ll be eating at the boardinghouse?”

“Yes. I’ll come back and pick you up around four so we can arrive together.”

She looked down at the denims she was wearing. “I suppose I should put on a dress.”

“Would you, please.”

She shot him a look. “I’ll see you later.”

“I owe you, Jewel.”

“Yes, you do,” and she went into the house.

 

It was a little past two in the afternoon, so Jewel had time to start the roast chickens and peel some potatoes for dinner. Her brothers, all of whom cut lumber and built houses for her father’s company were working over near Niles. Most times they were back by midafternoon. She had no idea how she was going to get gussied up and leave the house without them becoming suspicious. The only time she paid attention to her looks was for church on Sundays, but they’d known Eli all of their lives, too, and would probably go along with his ruse. However, there was no way her father would sanction such a harebrained scheme. Grove fathers guarded their daughters’ reputations the way dragons guarded gold, and Adam Crowley was no exception. Eli’s reputation as a ladies’ man was legendary. Her pa would be the first to admit Eli had become much more focused in life over the past few years, but that wouldn’t matter. Eli was a Lothario and Jewel was a virgin, and as far as her father was concerned never the twain shall meet.

Supper was just about done cooking when her brothers came home. They tromped in loud and
boisterous and greeted her with smiles. Meg, their mother, had died during Jewel’s eleventh year, and after her death, Jewel took over the running of the house. While her father and brothers felled lumber she handled everything from the wash to the cooking to the gardening, but refused to let her brothers help even when they insisted because she’d promised her mother on her death bed that she would take care of the Crowley men, and because Jewel could do the chores so much faster than they. But by the time she turned eighteen, she was so overwhelmed and overworked it had taken a visit from Dr. Lancaster to convince her to let the five big strong men help out. These days, Jewel continued to be the main housekeeper, but thanks to their assistance she was no longer tired all day every day, and in the evenings they took care of the dishes and righted the kitchen; a blessing.

While her brothers ate, she hurried to her room to wash up and get dressed. Thanks to the shopping trips to Detroit and Chicago initiated by Dr. Lancaster and Abigail, Jewel owned a fairly decent amount of ladies’ attire—not that the Grove offered myriad opportunities to wear any of her purchases, outside of church or the occasional town dance, but this evening she was pretending to be the wife of Eli Grayson, and she thought her blue skirt and jacket would be an appropriate choice. Looking into the wooden framed mirror on her vanity table, she paused as she tied back her thick ebony hair with a matching blue ribbon,
then shook her head at the ridiculous plan. Nothing good was going to come of this, but it was hard to tell him no. Most of the young women in the Grove had at one time or another been sweet on both Eli and his handsome older cousin Nate, and Jewel was no exception. However unlike the others who’d grown up and turned their hearts toward more realistic suitors, Jewel’s heart had settled on Eli and dug in, and she had no explanation why. She found her attraction to him silly and embarrassing. He never saw her as anyone other than the Crowleys’ little sister, and because she knew there was no way on God’s green earth she could compete with the fancy and sophisticated ladies he lavished his affections upon, she’d never let him know her feelings. Nor would she ever. The last thing she needed was his pity or, heaven forbid, his laughter. Now that his widowed mother, Abigail, was married to her widower father, he was family, not blood, but another brother nonethe-less, and that was the only relationship she needed or expected.

Refusing to think anymore on the subject, she put the finishing touches to her attire, gave her reflection one last critical glance, and left her room.

Her brothers had finished dinner by then, and were outdoors relaxing under the big oaks behind the house. She needed to tell them her plans for the evening, but before she went out to join them she looked around to make sure her father hadn’t stopped by to visit while she’d been
dressing. If he were about he’d surely ask where she was headed, and since she’d never lied to her father and doubted she ever would, she’d have to confess the truth and then all perdition would break loose.

But as she peered out of the window in the parlor, she didn’t see him.

Outside, Paul, the eldest, took one look at her in her blue finery, and confusion creased his brow. “Is there church tonight?”

She pulled on her matching crocheted gloves. “No.” She then explained Eli’s proposal. For a moment there was silence.

Jeremiah, who most favored their mother and was second in the sibling line, asked, “And you agreed to this?”

She shrugged. “Eli is family now. I’m simply helping him out.”

Noah cracked, “That’s what Pa’s going to put on his headstone.”

The brothers laughed. Zeke, who was shorter but wider than his brothers, said, “I think it’s a good plan.”

Abraham shook his head. “You’re the one who thought setting up an ice shanty on the lake in
April
was a good plan.”

More laughs. Zeke hung his head in embarrassment. He’d been fourteen at the time and so full of himself he refused to listen when his older brothers tried to explain the dangers of ice fishing in April. When the thinning ice under his shanty broke away and drifted into open water, taking
him and the shanty on a perilous fifteen-mile ride down river, he realized the soundness of their advice. Only after the floe ground into a larger, more stable stretch of ice was he able to leave it and get back to shore.

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