Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Weaver (19 page)

“Took a hayfork in the butt, did he?” the judge confirmed. “Is your husband here today, young lady?”

“That’d be me, Yer Honor,” Daniel said, raising his hand.

“I’ll get to you later, son.” Judge Whipple turned to Stanley. “So? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ebba was still looking around the room. She’d never been in court before, but knew this was hardly the norm. Why were people being so theatrical about the whole thing? Were they friends of Nellie Davis? And speaking of which, where was Nellie Davis? She didn’t appear to be present …

“What she says ain’t true!” Stanley cried. “She’s just sayin’ that ‘cause she don’t want them Weavers to find out what she really is!” He glared at Daniel. “Not that this’un ain’t figgered it out already if’n he’s got half a brain –”

The judge banged his gavel again. “Quiet, you! A simple answer will suffice.” He grimaced and struck his chest again with his fist. “Dangblasted onions. Oof.” He looked at Ebba. “He’s calling you a liar, miss. My question is, why would you lie?”

“I wouldn’t! He is!”

The judge belched and grimaced again.

“Judge Whipple,” Spencer said with concern. “Are you all right, sir?”

The judge waved dismissively at him. “It’ll pass. Witnesses?”

“I’m the witness, Yer Honor,” Daniel said.

The judge took a few deep breaths and leaned back. “Ah yes, her husband? What did you see?”

“It’s just like Ebba said. By the time I got there, he was about to … well, ya know.”

“No, I don’t know. How am I supposed to know anything if you people won’t give me a straight answer?” He belched again. “Land sakes, but I hate this job sometimes. Spell it out, boy!”

Daniel tried again, pointing at Stanley. “I walked in on this man pinnin’ my bride down and tryin’ to have his way with her. So I grabbed the first thing I could find in order to stop him!”

“Which was the pitchfork?” the judge asked.

“Which was the pitchfork, yes.”

The judge nodded and smiled, then looked at Stanley. “Well, son, it’d be darn deadly difficult to put those tines in your tush unless you were indeed in the position they claim you were.”

Stanley’s eyes darted furtively about. “She was askin’ fer it! Her kind always asks for it. She wanted it too!”

More gasps from the crowd. The judge ignored them. “So now you’re claiming that she solicited your affections?”

“‘Course she did!” Stanley spat. “What can ya expect from a whore? This whole trial’s a farce, I tell ya! No one expects a man to be punished for havin’ his way with a common –”

Daniel stepped beside Stanley before he could finish and punched him in the jaw, never once taking his eyes off the judge. “Oops. Sorry, Yer Honor – my fist musta slipped.”

Judge Whipple stared in shock at Stanley lying on the floor, then looked up at Daniel again. “Young man, was that really necessary?”

“I believe so, Yer Honor. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my wife, even if it means I have to go to jail, sir.”

The judge grumbled to himself for a moment. “Well, under normal circumstances, I’d find you in contempt of court for punching a defendant, but … given what he said, I’ll let it pass this once. But don’t even think about doing it …
belch
…. doing it again …
belch …
doggone you, Hank, what was in that stew?”

“Sorry, Judge!” Hank replied from somewhere in the crowd. “It was leftovers!”

“Left over from the war, no doubt.” The judge put a hand to his belly and grimaced. “I’ll deal with you later.” He turned back to Ebba. “Let’s proceed. Are you in fact what the defendant said you are?”

“Of course not! I would never do such a thing.”

He looked at Daniel. “Have you evidence that this woman was, well, of a pure nature at the time you married her?”

Ebba watched Daniel’s cheeks flush red. “She was untouched, if that’s what ya mean.”

The judge leaned forward and motioned Daniel to do the same. He lowered his voice and said, “Have you ever been with a woman before, son? Because if not, how would you know?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Yer Honor, but I have three older brothers, all married before I was. They made sure to fill me in on what to expect.”

The judge sat back again and nodded. “Good point, son. You would know, then.” He put a hand on the table and began to drum his fingers, then leaned forward to see if Stanley was still on the ground. “Someone want to toss some water on that boy?”

Deputy Turner nodded and went to find a bucket. Ma Weaver followed.

Everyone sat in silence as the judge continued to tap the table. “Seems to me,” he finally said, “we have a misunderstanding here. And being as how I have horrible indigestion, I’d like to wrap this up. My only remaining question is what gave Mr. Oliver …” He again checked on Stanley, who still hadn’t stirred. “… the notion that this young woman was of, shall we say, ill repute?”

The room went silent as a tomb.

Judge Whipple studied Ebba a moment. “Miss, I think you look like a nice young woman, but one can’t be too careful nowadays. It’s also my understanding that this particular town doesn’t have an active saloon that would employ the kind of women Mr. Oliver claims you to be. Still, did you do anything to provoke his actions?”

“No, Your Honor, I did not,” Ebba said firmly.

“She didn’t, but I know who did!” came a voice from the back of the room.

All heads turned as Clayton and Arlan entered, marching Nellie Davis between them. She was none too happy to be there, and certainly not happy to be there with the two men gripping her by the upper arms. Trailing behind was Mr. Davis, a stern look on his face.

“What’s the meaning of this?” The judge asked.

“Why don’t you ask Mrs. Davis here?” Clayton said.

“And why should I?”

“Because,” said Arlan. “She took something that didn’t belong to her and created a mountain out of a molehill.”

The judge leaned forward and looked Nellie up and down. “Did she now?” he said. “Well, do tell.”

“
I
did nothing
!” Nellie spat. “Tell these two ruffians to unhand me!”

“Nellie,” Mr. Davis warned. “Tell the judge what you did.”

“You’re not helping!” she snapped at him.

“I’m doing my best not to march you home and lock you up for the next six months! Maybe then you’ll mind your own business!”

Judge Whipple leaned back in his chair, hands on his belly. “Make it quick.”

“I’m guilty of nothing!” Nellie said, chin high.

“Mother, what have you done this time?” Charlotte groaned several rows back.

“She stole Daniel’s letter from Ebba, that’s what she did,” Arlan told the judge.

“What?” Daniel turned to his older brother. “What she’d do that for?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Arlan said.

Daniel leaned past Arlan enough to look at Nellie. “Mrs. Davis, what is this all about?”

“I was doing my civil duty to protect your family from this … this … harlot!”

Daniel looked at Ebba, who was staring daggers at Nellie. “What is she talkin’ about?”

Ebba shook her head. “I don’t know. She’s treated me strangely ever since I arrived.”

“What was in that letter?” the judge asked Daniel.

“I can’t say. I never really read it myself,” Daniel said.

“Oh, illiterate, eh?” said the judge.

“No, Yer Honor, I can read fine. But my cousin Matty read it to me first, and then it disappeared. Or I thought it had.” Now he was glaring at Nellie too.

“So what was in that letter?” the judge demanded. “I’m not gonna last much longer, son.” To prove his point, his stomach began to make odd gurgling noises. Everyone backed up a step.

“I’ve got it right here.” Mr. Davis pulled a folded sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his coat. “Seems my wife had hidden it in a drawer with her frillies.”

“You went through my …?” Nellie began.

“One more word, dear, and I’ll put you on a train back to Mississippi myself,” her husband growled.

Shaken, Nellie went silent.

Someone else, however, did not. “Excuse me, Your Honor,” Matthew said as he made his way to the front of the room. “I am Matthew Quinn – the ‘cousin Matty’ of which Daniel Weaver spoke. I am also Mrs. Davis’ son-in-law. I did read the letter for Daniel when it first arrived, as he was too nervous to read it himself.”

“All right,” the judge said with a grimace. “And you’re telling me this because …?”

Matthew shoved his spectacles up his nose as his cheeks turned pink. “The letter in question is of a private nature, Your Honor. I would not wish to embarrass my cousin’s new bride by speaking the contents aloud. But as my mother-in-law read what I did, I can see how this got so out of hand.”

Judge Whipple grimaced and gurgled once more. “Enough is enough! Give me the dangblasted letter and let me see for myself!”

Mr. Davis handed it over. The judge unfolded it and read silently, nodding a few times. When he reached the end, his eyebrows rose. “Hmmm.” He slowly turned to look at Ebba, then sat back in his chair, sighed and looked at Daniel. “You should make it a habit of reading your mail, young man.”

Daniel glared at Matthew. “I knew there was something Matty wasn’t tellin’ me, but I never got the chance to read it myself.”

“And we know whose fault that was,” Arlan said. “Don’t we, Mrs. Davis?”

Nellie turned crimson, but said nothing.

“Wait a minute!” Ebba said. “Don’t you think I don’t know what I wrote to Daniel? I don’t see what all this fuss is about! I never said anything in that letter that would indicate I was anything but who I am!”

The judge, along with every other man in the room, stared at her.

Ebba paled. “All I told him was … that I had all my teeth!”

The room erupted in laughter.

“Quiet!” the judge barked and rapped his gavel until the crowd shut up. He looked at Ebba. “Did anyone else have that letter before you sent it off?”

“No!” Then it hit her, and she put her hands on her temples. “Oh no …”

“Oh no what?” Daniel asked.

“Mrs. Pettigrew … she mailed it for me.”

The judge’s stomach rumbled. “Merciful heavens,” he said with a grimace.

“Here, drink this!” Ma made her way through the crowd, a glass in her hand. “It’s my own recipe. It’ll help settle your gut, Judge.”

Judge Whipple was in too much pain to argue. He grabbed the glass and downed the contents in a single swallow, then belched long and loud toward Nellie. “Oh my. Terribly sorry, ma’am.”

“Great Scott, man!” Mr. Davis cried. “See a doctor!”

Ma wrinkled her nose, having been standing next to Nellie, but otherwise endured the onslaught stoically. Nellie still had her eyes closed.

The judge settled back in his chair. “Much obliged, ma’am. I feel better already.” He looked around for a moment, his eyes finally settling on Mr. Davis. “I take it this isn’t the first time your wife has done this sort of thing?”

“No, Your Honor, I’m afraid not.”

“Your expression toward the woman at the moment would be proof enough, even had I not asked you,” the judge said. “You realize the trouble she’s caused this young lady?”

“Yes, Your Honor, I do.”

The judge nodded, then looked at Daniel. “Son, I’d say you’re a very lucky young man, but if I heard your bride right, she didn’t write all of what’s in the letter in question.”

Daniel stood, dumbfounded. “What didn’t she write?”

“See for yourself.” The judge handed him the letter.

Daniel read it through, until he got to the bottom. “Oh. Well!” His face lit with a smile. “Shucks, that ain’t no news to me!”

Ebba still had no idea what any of this was about. “Daniel, aren’t you going to tell me?”

Daniel smiled at her. “Ah, sweetie, it ain’t nothin’ we don’t already know ‘bout each other.”

“But what is it? Mrs. Pettigrew had to have written something in that letter before she sent it to you!”

Daniel smiled and showed her the letter. “She sure did.”

Ebba looked … and her mouth dropped open. “What?” She turned to Daniel in shock.

“See? Nothin’ wrong with that,” he said. “I dunno why Nellie would take somethin’ so simple and start a bunch of trouble about it.”

The judge leaned over to look at Stanley, who was now conscious but had decided to stay on the ground for safety’s sake. “Mr. Oliver, I find you guilty of attempted rape. I’m having you transported to McNeil Island where you will serve out a sentence of two years for your crime. And if I ever hear you’ve attacked a woman again, whether a ‘soiled dove’ or any other, I
will
make you wish you were dead. Is that clear, son?”

Stanley gulped. “But Yer Honor …”

“Is. That. Clear?”

“Y-y-yes, Yer Honor.”

“Take this lowlife away,” the judge told Tom Turner, who’d just arrived too late with the water.

Tom shrugged, set the bucket down, helped Stanley up and led him off to jail.

The judge turned to look at Nellie. “And as for the matter of Mrs. Davis and the rumors she concocted that started this whole mess … ma’am, I find you guilty of disturbing the peace. I sentence you to community service for a term of six months.”

“Community service?” Nellie screeched. “You can’t do that to me!”

“Make it nine months!” the judge said, then rapped his gavel on the table.

“But that’s absurd!” Nellie shot back.

“
One year!
Or would you like to try for a year and a half?”

Nellie opened her mouth again only to have Mr. Davis clamp a hand over it. She struggled briefly, then glared at the judge.

Judge Whipple smiled. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. One year of community service, right here in this establishment.”

Nellie’s eyes popped as she shook her head as best she could.

“No, not that!” Hank cried from the back of the room. “Have some mercy!”

“Your stew didn’t have any mercy on me,” the judge said. “Putting up with her is the least you can do.”

“Yeah, but this means we’ll
all
have to put up with her!” someone said. Others laughed … until they realized what it meant to have Nellie working at Hank’s for the next year.

“Well, I do need the help …,” Hank said with a shrug.

“And Mrs. Davis clearly needs a dose of humility,” Judge Whipple added. “Plus, look on the bright side, Hank – you won’t have to pay her.”

The place roared with laughter as Nellie stood in shock. She wanted to faint, but the men holding her wouldn’t let her.

The judge smiled in satisfaction and banged his gavel once more. “Court is adjourned!”

“
A
nd do you
, Harlan Hughes, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Harlan gave Mary’s hands a squeeze. “I do.”

The legal proceedings done, the Weavers had hurried to the church for Ma and Harlan’s wedding. Clayton and Spencer tagged along after locking Stanley up. Tom hated to stay behind, but someone had to go over things with the judge and guard their prisoner.

“And do you, Mary Weaver, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Ma gazed into Harlan’s eyes. “I most certainly do.”

Bella and Calvin’s twins began to fuss, and each exchanged the baby in their arms for the other’s. That quieted them for the moment as the preacher continued. “Then by the power invested in me by Almighty God and the Washington Territory, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Sheriff Hughes, you may kiss your bride.”

“Simply Harlan will do, Preacher. I’m not going to be a sheriff anymore.” He looked at Mary. “Being this woman’s husband from now on is fine with me.” He took her into his arms and kissed her.

A cheer went up, along with a few wails from the little ones, as the Weaver clan clapped and whistled their congratulations to the newlywed couple. “Way to go, Uncle Harlan!” Clayton said, slapping him on the back. “It’s about time the two of you got hitched.”

The congratulations continued as Ebba took Daniel’s hand. “Thank you.”

“For what, sweetie?”

“For marrying me.”

Daniel turned her to face him. “Would there be a reason I wouldn’t?”

“Maybe if you’d seen what Mrs. Pettigrew added to my letter, you’d have changed your mind.”

“Are you kiddin’? That woulda made me want to marry ya all the more. To me, ya were just bein’ honest.”

“Except that it wasn’t me.”

“Don’t much matter now, does it? We both know it’s true.”

She blushed. “Yes,” she said as she locked eyes with his. “It is true.”

Ignoring the bustle around them, Daniel kissed her. “I hope I helped make it true.”

Ebba smiled against his lips. “You did.”

“Ya did too,” he whispered. “But promise me somethin’.”

“What?”

“When it comes time for our younguns to marry, and if’n any of them sends away for a bride, promise me we’ll read the letters they exchange?”

“Only if you promise that those letters never leave our house.”

“I promise!”

“Good. Then I won’t mind if any of our sons get themselves a mail-order bride.”

D
enver
, Colorado, 1901

F
antine sat in shock
. “You mean, all of that happened because of one little sentence you added to that letter?”

Mrs. Pettigrew nodded. “Some people are horrible gossips,
ma petite.
They should not be allowed loose on the streets!”

Fantine sat, her eyes still wide with shock. “But Mrs. Pettigrew. What
did
you write in that letter?”

“What does it matter? Everything turned out all right in the end. In fact, the Weavers have kept me in their confidence and entrusted me to send each Weaver son a fine mail-order bride. I have ensured they are all happily married these last twenty years.”

“Twenty years? How so long? The oldest boy on the farm after Daniel was Alfonso was it not? And he only fourteen in the story you just told me.”

“Ah, but you forget about Rufi.”

“But she is a girl,
Mademoiselle
. She would not send for a mail-order bride.”

“No, but she sent for a mail-order husband!”

Fantine gasped. “There is such a thing?”

“But of course,
ma cherie
. I am a matchmaker, am I not? What does it matter if I have to send a man or a woman to a client?”

Fantine began to fan herself with a hand. “I have never heard of this before. How many men have you sent out to brides?”

“Not many, but I have done it.”

“And the rest of the Weaver family, you matched them?”

“I am still matching them,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “There are so many, and they just keep coming.”

Fantine nodded. “They must be their own town by now.”

“Not quite yet, as not all have remained on their farm in their lovely little valley. But there are enough.”

Fantine smiled. “Please,
Mademoiselle
. Will you not tell me what you wrote in Ebba’s letter?”

Mrs. Pettigrew sighed. “Oh very well,
ma belle
. I simply wrote this. “I look forward to sharing a bed with you.”

Fantine’s mouth flopped open. “What? That’s it?”

Mrs. Pettigrew nodded. “That’s it.”

“But … but … how could so much trouble be caused by such a simple statement?”

Mrs. Pettigrew smiled as she went to hang the letter back on the wall. “The heart,
mon agneau
, it governs our actions, does it not?”

Fantine slowly nodded her agreement. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

“Well then, in the heart of a innocent, my simple statement brings joy. But in the heart of the wicked – in this case, a bored gossip – it lights the fires of contempt. For have you not heard the proverb, ‘out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks’?”

Fantine slowly stood. “I think I understand. But does that make the town of Nowhere wicked?”

“No, only the wagging tongue of one woman. In her mind, she thought she was doing good, but she wrought nothing but destruction. The Weavers have written to me with tales of Nellie Davis. She is not someone I would like to know, at least not back then. In Ebba’s last letter to me, she says the woman has mended her ways. Too bad it took almost her whole life to do so.”