Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Weaver (12 page)

“Oh, won’t I?” Harlan said. “Even though it’s a long time coming?”

“Why you, you…” were the last words the Weaver men and the others heard her speak as Sheriff Hughes entered the barn.

“Ya don’t think she’ll hurt him, do ya?” Calvin asked.

“Nah, they’re fine,” Benjamin said.

“Ain’t folks gonna think it’s improper that Sheriff Hughes is sparkin’ with your ma in the barn?” Deputy Turner asked.

Daniel shook his head. “They’ve been sweet on each other for years now. Let the man propose any way he wants.”

“Propose?” Clayton and Spencer said in unison.

“Well, I’ll be,” Deputy Turner drawled. “How did I not know he was sweet on your ma?”

“No idea,” said Calvin. “We’ve known for ages. Though she’d have rather died than say it.”

Benjamin smiled at Daniel. “Ya know, little brother, ya might not be the only one gettin’ hitched tomorrow …”

M
eanwhile
, in the barn …

“
O
w
! Tarnation, woman, what are you trying to do, skewer me? Put down that pitchfork!”

“I’ll put it down when I’m good and ready! Now what do you mean, hauling me in here like a sack of grain?”

“Don’t you know a romantic gesture when you see one?” he shot back.

“Sheriff Hughes, plucking a woman off the ground and running away with her is not a
romantic
notion!”

“Great Scott, woman, haven’t you ever read poetry?” Harlan threw up his hands. “For crying out loud, you’ve got four sons! You must’ve had some sense of romance to bring them about!”

Mary gasped. “That is none of your business,
Sheriff
!”

Harlan stared at her a moment. Her face was red, her body trembling from her earlier struggles. She was fire on two legs, and had a way of setting his blood to boiling. Harlan never thought he’d love anyone ever again, but he was wrong. Now he had to fix this. “Mary … what happened to calling me Harlan?” he asked gently.

She lowered the pitchfork a notch. “You can’t go around doing what you just did.”

He smiled. “I think you liked it.”

“I did not like it!”

“I think you did.”

“What makes you so sure?” she asked as her eyes narrowed to slits.

He took a few steps forward, but still kept some distance between them, for safety’s sake. “Because I know that when you’re really mad you get quiet. You don’t take to hollering like you’re doing now.”

She took a deep breath. He was right, of course, and they both knew it. She trembled anew, but not from her earlier exertions. Now she trembled because of the man himself. “Oh, what do you know?”

“Plenty.” He closed the distance between them, pulled the pitchfork from her hands and tossed it at a pile of hay. “Mary …”

She backed up a few steps. “Harlan … I … that is, we …”

“Don’t fight me, woman,” he said quietly. “We’re both old enough to know better. Now I’m just gonna say it right out. I love you, Mary Weaver, I’ve loved you for a long time and I’ll be powerful upset if you say no.”

She swallowed hard. “No to what?”

Harlan got down on one knee.

“Oh, sweet Lord above!” Mary gasped.

Harlan cleared his throat. “Mary Weaver, you’d make me that happiest old coot alive if you’d be my wife.” He stared at her and waited.

Mary stared right back. It took her a moment to find her voice and when she did, all she could say was, “you’re not an old coot.” Then she fled from the barn.

“
M
a
?” Charity said with a raised eyebrow as Ma burst through the kitchen’s back door, crossed the room to the hallway and disappeared. She exchanged a quick look with Ebba.

“Is something wrong?” Ebba asked.

“I’m not sure,” Charity stepped away from the stove to peek down the hallway. “But she didn’t seem right.”

“Maybe one of us should check on her,” Ebba suggested.

“You go,” Charity said. “I’ve got to take these pies out of the oven.”

Ebba wiped her hands on her apron and left the kitchen. She had a feeling she’d find Ma in the sewing room. Sure enough, there she was at her worktable, stabbing at a hat with a long needle. “Ma? Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine, child,” she replied in a voice indicating it clearly wasn’t. “How are the pies coming along?”

“The pies are fine. But if you don’t mind me saying so, you’re not.”

Ma fiddled with the half-made hat on the worktable. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Men! Pigheaded fools.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ma gasped as she turned to look at her. “Oh, Ebba, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out sounding like that.”

“Are you … mad at someone?”

Ma sighed. “If I’m upset with anyone, it’s myself. In fact, I just did something that might not have been the brightest, considering the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Ebba asked. “What happened?”

Ma sat back in her chair and seemed to crumple. “Did you ever want something, then when it came along you discovered you were too scared to take it?”

Ebba thought a moment. “Yes, I think so.”

“What was it?”

Ebba gave her a tentative smile. “Your son.”

“Daniel?” Ma said, sitting bolt upright. “Land sakes, child, why would you be afraid of Daniel?”

“Well … he’s a stranger, yes, but I’ll get to know him over time … and I’ve always wanted to be married and have a family. But there are no guarantees anything will work out, is there?”

“What are you talking about, child?”

“I’m talking about, what if we never fall in love? You know, what you were telling me the other day? Those three things I have to have in my pocket? What if I only ever get two and never find the third?”

Ma sighed again. “Child, you’re young, and with two in your pocket the third is bound to come along. But at my age … it’s more difficult.”

Ebba suddenly knew what was going on. “Sheriff Hughes.”

Ma’s mouth dropped open. “How do you know about …”

“Daniel told me. In fact, all of your sons know that the sheriff and you – as they put it – ‘have eyes for each other’.”

Ma rested her elbows on the worktable and put her face in her hands. “I never thought this would happen to me,” she muttered into her fingers. “I never thought I’d find it again.” She looked up. “And now here it is and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Ebba came around the worktable and sat in a nearby chair. “If it were me, what advice would you give?”

“Oh, now that’s not fair,” Ma objected, then chuckled. “You’ll make a Weaver yet, Ebba.”

Ebba smiled at her. “What would you tell me? What should I do?”

“I’d ask you if you liked him, loved him and were in love with him.”

Ebba leaned forward. “Are you?”

Ma’s lower lip trembled. “For a while now, yes.”

Ebba was surprised at the tears streaming down Ma’s cheeks. She scooted her chair closer and took the woman’s hands in hers. “What’s wrong, Ma? He seems like a very good man. And if he loves you too, then …”

“He does!” Ma blurted. “He just told me so!”

“Then I don’t understand. Why are you in here crying while he’s out there somewhere?”

Ma gave her a helpless look. “Because I’m afraid, child. I’m afraid I’ll … oh, never mind.” She quickly wiped the tears from her eyes and stood. “You’d best go back and help Charity with those pies.”

“I will not.” Ebba stated.

Ma gaped at her. “Go back to the kitchen, Ebba. Please.”

Ebba got up and took Ma in her arms. “No. You need me here.”

Ma choked back a sob. “Dagnabit, girl, why can’t you listen?”

“Because I’m trying to be like you,” Ebba whispered and hugged her tighter. “You’re a strong woman, Ma, one I can aspire to. It’s not like you to run from anything. If
you
run from it, then that means it’ll be too scary for
me
to face.”

Ma gently pushed them apart and stared at her in wonderment. “Lord, child, you’re wiser than I thought.” She swallowed hard and sat. “You’re right, I have to face this whether I want to or not. I just wish I knew why I’m so afraid of it.”

Ebba retook her seat as well. “Maybe because you never thought it would happen.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it.”

Ebba stared at the hats on the worktable then glanced around the room. “Maybe because you don’t want to replace your sons’ father with a new one?”

Ma closed her eyes against more tears and nodded. “Ebba, you truly are wise beyond your years. Now let’s not talk about it anymore. You go help Charity with those pies – I’ll join you in a minute.”

E
bba watched
Ma out of the corner of her eye for the next hour as they, Charity, and Summer and Elle Riley (Clayton and Spencer’s wives) worked in the kitchen. Rufi managed the Riley children while the women baked.

“How old is little Charlie now, Summer?” Ma asked.

Summer stopped kneading dough to think. She and Elle were both pretty blondes with bright blue eyes and soft Louisiana accents – they’d grown up as best friends in New Orleans. “Four and a half now,” she finally said.

“And his sister?” Ma inquired.

“Kate just turned two.”

“They’re both dears,” Ma said with a smile. “I’m sure they give Leona hours of pleasure. As you can see, there’s no shortage of it around here with the amount of children we’ve got.”

Elle laughed. “Honestly, Mrs. Weaver, I don’t know how you do it. You have children coming out of every nook and cranny.”

“Just how I like it,” Ma said. “Summer, how’s that pie dough coming?”

“It’s ready to be rolled out,” she said, reaching for a rolling pin.

“And what about you, Elle?” Ma turned to her. “How old are Fletcher and Clementine?”

“Fletcher is three; Clementine just turned one.”

“My, I didn’t realize Kate and Clementine’s birthdays were so close together,” Ma said.

“Only two weeks apart,” Summer said as she began to roll out her dough.

“Are you looking forward to having children, Ebba?” Elle asked.

The room went silent for a moment. “Ebba?” Charity said. “Did you hear Elle?”

Ebba jumped. She’d been so busy watching Ma, she hadn’t realized someone was addressing her. “Oh … sorry, what was the question?”

Elle smiled as if she understood her distraction. “I asked if you’re looking forward to having children.”

Ebba blushed. “To tell you the truth, right now the only thing I’m looking forward to is getting through tonight and tomorrow.”

A series of giggles made its way around the kitchen. “One thing at a time, then,” Summer said. “I must say though, I am jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?” Ebba asked.

“That you get to have wedding guests.”

“You didn’t have any at your wedding?” Ebba asked.

“Nothing like what you’ll have.”

“Summer got married the night of Christmas Eve,” Elle explained. “She only had six or eight people present. When I married Spencer, it was a full church wedding plus an extra bride and groom – Billy Blake married Abbey Davis at the same time!”

Summer shook her head as she started to roll out the dough. “That was an event, to say the least.”

“How many people were at your wedding, Charity?” Ebba asked.

“Let me see … the Weavers, the preacher and Aunt Betsy. That was all.”

“Isn’t it amazing that you remember all these details?” Ma asked. “They fade, but then one day everything is as clear as a painting on the wall again. You’ll do the same with your children. It’s like finding a present when you didn’t expect one.”

The other women smiled at her. “Have you found a present lately, Ma?” Ebba asked. She figured she’d sneak that in. Ma couldn’t put up too much of a fuss in front of the others, could she?

Ma gave her something between a dirty look and a smile. She knew exactly what Ebba meant. “I suppose I have.”

That got everyone else’s attention. Charity arched an eyebrow. “Really? Is there something I should know about?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” Ma wiped her hands on her apron.

Ebba wanted to yank the woman’s apron off and make her go talk to Sheriff Hughes, but didn’t think she could pull it off.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to. “Afternoon, ladies,” Sheriff Hughes said as he came through the back door. “I heard something about cookies?”

“I’m sorry,” Ma said, “we’re busy with baking more pies for tomorrow. But there are some from yesterday.” She went to the hutch where the cookie jar was and brought it to the table. “Help yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said as he took off the lid and pulled out a few. “Mmm, sugar cookies are one of my favorites.”

“I’m afraid they won’t be as good as Mrs. Upton’s back in Clear Creek.” Ma turned her back on him. Ebba watched her stand and fold her arms across her chest. Heavens, the woman was stubborn!

“Now, I wouldn’t say that, Mary,” the sheriff argued. “Your sugar cookies are as good as Sally Upton’s any day.”

“Are they?” she asked as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Of course they are. Sally might be the hotel’s cook and make some fabulous meals, but it’s her molasses cookies that are tough to beat.”

Ebba wanted to bury her face in her hands. Did he have to say that?

Ma spun to face him. “Oh they are, are they?”

The sheriff backed up a step. “What’d I say?”

“Take your cookies and scoot!” Ma ordered as she grabbed the cookie jar and shoved it back in the hutch.

“Ma, you forgot the lid,” Charity said, pointing at it.

Ma grunted, snatched up the lid, took it to the hutch and put it back on the cookie jar. Then she spun on her heel to face Harlan. “Don’t be taking up space in the kitchen, Sheriff – we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“As do we menfolk. What did you want us to do with those crates in the barn?”

“Why don’t you ask one of my boys?” she asked tersely.

He arched an eyebrow at her. “No need to get upset, Mary. None of the boys are around.”

“What? Well, where in tarnation are they?”

“How should I know?” he said with a helpless shrug. “If I did, you think I’d be in here asking you?”

She didn’t budge an inch. “Well, Sheriff, I’m rather busy right now and I don’t need distractions.” The look on her face said exactly what kind of distraction she meant.

The other women cast nervous glances between the two. “Do you want one of us to go find them?” Charity asked.

“No,” Ma snapped. “They’re probably trying to finish up the plowing so they don’t have to worry about getting behind.”

The sheriff looked at the cookies in his hand. “Where did you want me to put the crates, Mary?”

Ebba decided to take charge. “Maybe you’d better go show him, Ma.” She gave her a nudge toward the door.

Ma gave her a
what do you think you’re doing?
look before turning back to the sheriff. “I … well …”

“That’s a good idea,” Charity added. “How is the sheriff supposed to know where to put them unless you tell him?”

“Go ahead, take care of it while we get finished up in here,” a grinning Summer suggested.

Ebba fought against a smile.
Thank you, ladies!

Ma pressed her lips together before she conceded. “All right, Harlan, follow me.”

“
S
o that’s
what’s wrong,” Charity said.

Ebba smiled and nodded.

“Sheriff Hughes and Mrs. Weaver,” Elle said in wonder. “Who’d have thought?”

“Her entire family, apparently,” Summer replied.

“Well, enough thinking for now,” Charity declared. “Let’s get this last batch of pies in the oven, then we can start on the cookies.”

Summer and Elle nodded in agreement and continued with their tasks as Ebba wondered what to do next. Maybe she should ready herself for when Ma came back in the house. Judging from what she knew of the woman so far, she’d either be upset again or smiling.

But there was no time to ponder it further, as several children came racing through the kitchen and out the back door. “Heavens, what’s the hurry?”

“Rufi?” Charity called into the next room.

Rufi dashed into the kitchen, her eyes darting everywhere. “Where did they go, the little
ladri
?!”

“That way,” Ebba said and pointed at the door.

“Who were they?” Summer asked.

“Gabby, Leo and Mel,” Rufi spat. “My younger brother and sisters.”

“Why were they in such a rush?” Ebba asked.

“Because the devils just took my necklace and they know I can’t catch them to get it back,” Rufi said with a roll of her eyes. She sat down heavily at the kitchen table to catch her breath. “But I’ll get it back later. They just want me to chase them, the
fuorileggi
.”

Summer’s son Charlie came running into the room. “Chase me, chase me!” he cried as he ran around the kitchen table and back into the hall.

Rufi took a deep breath as if to brace herself, stood up and ran back into the parlor. Her arrival was greeted with a cacophony of giggles and squeals of delight.

Ebba couldn’t help but laugh. She took a deep breath herself and realized how tired she felt. She wasn’t used to being around so many people, at least not in the same house. Once again she found herself thinking about the peace and quiet to come after the wedding was over and the guests were gone. Unfortunately, she still wouldn’t be alone. By her estimation there were twenty-four other people living on the farm. If Sheriff Hughes had his way, it would be twenty- five.

The thought made her head swim. After the wedding, she’d have to talk to Daniel about them building a house of their own, before she went mad from the crowds.