Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Weaver (6 page)

“I said outside of town,” Daniel protested.

“How far?” Ebba asked cautiously.

“A full day’s ride,” Ma said. “Sunup to sundown. Two days if the weather is bad.”

Ebba’s legs went weak and she sat down on the bed, hard. “Two days?!”

“It ain’t as bad as it sounds,” Daniel replied lamely.

Oh yes it is!
she thought to herself. A sudden vision of never seeing another living soul crashed down upon her. Would she go crazy seeing the same handful of people day in and day out with no other social interaction? “I … I did not expect this. I thought you were maybe a mile or two out of town, not a day or two.”

Ma sat next to her on the bed. “Now, it’s not as bad as all that. Charity and Bella and Samijo were all from big cities and they adjusted fine. In fact, they like it better.”

“Two days,” Ebba muttered.

“Well, if you keep thinking about it that way, then of course it’s going to bother you,” Ma chastised.

Ebba closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s just not what I expected. I’m sure the farm is wonderful.”

“You know what’s even more wonderful?” Daniel asked.

“What?” Ebba said.

“Ya ain’t coughed or sneezed since ya drank Ma’s remedy.”

Ebba stared at him in shock. Good heavens, the man was right! Now that she thought about it, even her throat felt better. Had this tiny woman been able to do what no doctor in Denver, Chicago or New York could? “Thank you!” Ebba enthused and threw her arms around Ma. “It’s a miracle!”

“No, it’s just an old recipe.” Ma said. “The miracle will be getting all the wrinkles out of that dress of yours.” She pried Ebba’s arms off and stood. “Now you get some rest. I want my new daughter-in-law to be pretty as a picture on her wedding day! And I’m sure Daniel does too, don’t you, son?”

“I think she’s pretty as a picture now, Ma,” he said. “In fact, I think Miss Knudsen here’d look pretty no matter where or what she was doin’.”

Ebba felt her cheeks grow hot with the complement. “Thank you … Daniel.”

He closed the distance between them and took her hand in his. “Rest now,” he said gently. “The last thing I’d want is for ya to start coughin’ durin’ our ceremony.”

Ebba’s heart sank. Did he have to say that? She’d thought of it so often during her long journey West that she’d exhausted every horrid scenario she could possibly think of. Now she’d probably dream about it, and whatever nightmares she had would be stuck in her head when they stood before the preacher. “I’ll do my best,” she said. And hoped her best would be enough.

A
soft knock
sounded at the door. Ebba opened her eyes slowly, not sure if she’d heard anything.

No, there it was again. Ebba sat up, unsure of where she was. The room wasn’t her own, unrecognizable …

“Miss Knudsen … er, I mean, Ebba?” came a male voice from the other side of the door.

Daniel! Now she remembered where she was. Hurriedly she got up, smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt and answered the door.

Daniel stood there with a big smile on his face. “Did ya get a nice rest in?”

She nodded. “Maybe too nice. I forgot where I was.”

He smiled. “So long as ya didn’t forget me.”

Ebba blushed. “No, I certainly didn’t.”

“Aunt Betsy has supper about ready, so Ma figured I’d best come fetch ya. Are ya hungry?”

Before she could respond verbally, her stomach growled. Her hand flew to her belly. “Oh my goodness!”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughed.

She laughed too. “Give me a moment. I must look a mess.”

He sobered. “I don’t think so. I think … well, shucks, yer about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, if’n ya don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

His words sent a tingle up her spine. “No, I, I don’t mind at all.”

His eyes brightened at her words. “Take all the time ya need, then. I’ll be waitin’ right here.”

She smiled, turned and hurried to freshen up. Somewhat – really, there wasn’t much she could do other than retrieve a comb out of her traveling bag, run it through her hair, twist it into a knot at the back of her head and re-pin it. But it was better than nothing. She returned to the door. “I’m ready.”

“It’s gettin’ a little chilly outside,” he informed her. “Do ya have a shawl?”

She nodded, ducked back into the room, grabbed her shawl and returned. “Now I’m really ready,” she said with a smile.

“Not quite.” He took her shawl from her and wrapped it around her shoulders. “There, now ya are.” He offered her his arm. “Let’s go.”

She took it as warmth crept its way up her back. It made her whole body relax. For some reason, she wasn’t nervous like she’d been at the restaurant or when the stage first pulled into town. There was something calming about the man walking next to her. She didn’t know what, but she liked it.

“Aunt Betsy made roast chicken with mashed ‘taters,” he said. “She’s almost as good a cook as Ma.”

“Sounds wonderful,” she said as they descended the stairs to the hotel lobby.

“You cook, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m sure Ma’ll teach ya all my favorites.”

For some reason, she felt irritated at his words. Maybe she’d like to stand on her own two feet when it came to her cooking. In fact, many had given her high praise for it, especially when it came to traditional Swedish dishes like
fläskpannkaka.
Of course, she wasn’t sure what Daniel or his family would think of a pancake full of diced pork, but was sure that’s what they’d call it. Most folks had a hard time pronouncing the actual name.

She decided to take the high road. “I’d be happy to have her teach me. I can teach her too.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Ya can’t teach Ma much she don’t already know.”

That stung. She stopped. “
Åh? Så din mamma talar svenska
?”

Daniel’s mouth flopped open. “What … what was that?”

“
Svenska,
” she said proudly. “Swedish.”

He gaped at her a moment before he looked her up and down. “Ya speak another language? Well, woo-ee! Ain’t that somethin’?”

His excitement took her by surprise. “
Ja.
”

He grinned ear to ear. “Say somethin’ else.”

She shrugged. “
Vad är för dessert
?”

“Dessert? Is that a Swedish word?” he asked.

“No, English.”

“Oh. Bella sometimes mixes English words in with her Eye-talian.”

Ebba smiled at his pronunciation and tried not to laugh.

“What did ya say before that?”

“Before what?”

“Before what ya just said?”

“Oh, I said, ‘so, your mother speaks Swedish?’”

His smiled faded. “Oh. I guess yer right – ya
could
teach her too. Ma don’t speak nothin’ but good ol’ English. Better’n I do, at least.”

Ebba noted the look on his face and wondered if she’d hurt his feelings. He obviously loved his mother very much. “We can teach each other different things.”

“Yeah, we can,” he agreed. His smile returned. “We’d better get a move on before Ma sends Matty to come look for us.”

They didn’t speak much the rest of their walk to the mercantile. Just as well – so far they’d both managed to embarrass the other through their own pride, the focus on his mother. She liked Mary Weaver, and didn’t want to do anything to make her dislike the woman.

By the time they reached their destination, supper was ready and on the table. “About time you two got here,” Ma said as they came into the kitchen.

“There you are,” added his Aunt Betsy. “Now everyone grab a seat and we’ll get started with the introductions. Then your uncle can say the blessing.”

Everyone sat. Ebba noticed three empty chairs but kept quiet. Within moments a young couple came into the kitchen followed by Daniel’s uncle. As soon as they were seated, she gave them a smile and a nod of greeting.

“Matthew, Charlotte, this is your cousin Daniel’s mail-order bride.” Aunt Betsy motioned toward her. “Ava, is it? No, that’s not right …”

“Eh-bah,” Ma Weaver sounded out. “Land sakes, it’s only four letters. It’s not that hard, Betsy.”

“Well, how’s a person supposed to know these things?” Betsy shot back. “It’s not a name you hear around these parts.”

“I think it’s a lovely name,” the young woman at the other end of the table said. “Allow me to introduce myself – I’m Charlotte Quinn.” She reached over and patted the hand of the young man next to her. “And this is Matthew, my husband.”

“You have an accent too,” Ebba commented. “Where are you from?”

“Mississippi, originally, until we moved here to Nowhere.”

“I like the way you talk,” she said. “It’s very pretty.”

“Why, thank you. I have had a few people comment about my accent before, but no woman has ever told me it was pretty.”

“They may have been jealous, dear,” Matthew said. “It’s so nice to meet you at last, Ebba. And if no one else has told you yet, welcome to the family.”

“Thank you. This is a little overwhelming for me. Everything and everyone is so new. You’ll excuse me if I don’t remember everyone’s name.”

Daniel and his mother exchanged a quick glance then did the same with Charlotte and Matthew. What was that about?

Daniel’s uncle gave Ebba a nod. “In case anyone is wondering, I’m Mr. Quinn and I’ll second what Matthew said. Welcome to the family, Ebba.”

“Thank you so much.” She glanced around the table. “Is this all of you? Are there any more?”

“This is all of us as far as the Quinn family goes,” Aunt Betsy said. “But when you get out to the farm … ow!” She glared at Ma Weaver next to her. “What was that for?”

Ma gave her an innocent glance. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

“You kicked me!”

“If I did, it was an accident. Now let’s get on with supper – can’t you see the poor child is starving?”

Daniel covered his mouth and tried not to laugh. Ebba watched him and wondered why his mother would kick his aunt in the first place. There was something they weren’t telling her, and it made her nervous.

But she pushed the thought from her mind as Daniel’s uncle folded his hands in front of him and bowed his head. “Dear Lord, for what we are about to receive, may we be truly thankful. Oh, and thank you for sending such a nice bride for my nephew, and may the two of them be very happy together. Amen.”

Everyone raised their head. “Not so fast,” Ma Weaver said. “I want to add a few words.”

“A few words?” Aunt Betsy said with a frown. “Don’t take all night, or the food will get cold.”

Ma looked like she was about to kick her sister again, but instead bowed her head. “Lord, you know how long poor Daniel’s been waiting for a bride. Just put in him the patience needed so he can get to know her a little better before he makes her an honest woman.”

“Ma!” Daniel blurted as his face turned red.

“Well it’s only natural, son. For Heaven’s sake, at least learn a little bit about each other before you –”

“Aunt Mary,” Matthew interrupted. “Not at the supper table.”

“Shucks, Matty,” Daniel said. “She says things like this at our table all the time.”

Ebba sat, her cheeks flushed. Were they talking about what she thought they were?

Charlotte’s eyes widened as she stared at Daniel, then his mother. “You do?!”

“Well, dagnabit, what’s wrong with it?” Ma asked. “It’s nature. No need to hide it.”

Ebba started the fan herself with her hand. “I hear you make a good roast chicken, Mrs. Quinn,” she said in hopes of changing the subject.

Betsy took the cue. “Oh yes, I’m quite proud of my recipe. Do you cook well, Ebba?”

“I like to think so,” she said. “I make a combination of American and Swedish recipes.”

“Did you grow up here in America, or come over to this country as a child?” Charlotte asked as she reached for the mashed potatoes. She cast a cautious glance in Ma’s direction.

“I was raised here, but I lived with my parents and their extended family – aunts, uncles, cousins. I was the youngest.”

“And where are all of your relatives now?” Matthew asked.

Ebba fixed her eyes on her plate. “Gone.”

“Gone?” Aunt Betsy repeated. “What do you mean, they’re gone?”

“They are all dead. Could you please pass me the chicken?” she asked Daniel.

He reached for the platter and offered it to her. “I remember ya tellin’ me yer parents had both passed, but I had no idea ya didn’t have another livin’ relative to speak of.”

She stabbed a piece of chicken with a fork and put it on her plate. “My parents were all that was left. Most of the family died from influenza about five years ago.” She pointed at a dish of carrots. “Could you pass that, please?”

Ma Weaver passed her the vegetables. “You poor child. All alone in the world.”

“Not anymore she’s not,” Daniel said. “Once ya become my wife, then trust me, ya’ll never be alone again.”

“That’s the truth,” Ma Weaver said with a tiny smile. “Now let’s eat. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

T
he rest
of the evening was spent in comfortable conversation with the Quinns, Daniel and his mother. Matthew and Charlotte regaled her with tales of their own courtship and subsequent wedding. She listened attentively and tried not to cringe. To think that they got all the way to the altar and practically at the “I do’s” before the deputy Sheriff Hughes had told her about stopped the ceremony and switched brides with Matthew. It was all too fantastic to take in! “You could write a book!” she said at the end of the tale.

“If there’s any story writing, it will be done by Deputy Turner,” Matthew said. “He’s the town storyteller.”

“Storyteller?” Ebba said.

“Yep, ol’ Tom’s a master at spinnin’ yarns,” Daniel said. “I can’t tell ya how many times he’s had me sittin’ on the edge of my seat. Me and a whole lotta other people.”

Ebba smiled and wondered if she should say anything about the sheriff’s plan to lure Deputy Turner back to Clear Creek. No – that was the sheriff’s business and she should be quiet about it. “It was a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“It’s definitely something we’ll be telling our children one day,” Matthew said.

Ebba studied him. He had an odd look on his face she wondered about. But again, not her business. “And your grandchildren,” she added.

Mrs. Quinn drummed her fingers on the kitchen table a few times. “Anyone ready for dessert?” Within moments the woman had served everyone a cup of coffee and a piece of pie. A very small piece, Ebba noticed.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one that did. “What are you trying to do, Betsy?” Ma Weaver asked. “Are you rationing the pie now?”

Aunt Betsy made a show of giving each man a solemn glare. “Perhaps it’s on account of half my pie having gone missing sometime this afternoon.”

Ma Weaver glanced at each of the men herself. “I’ve had that same thing happen at my place. Funny business, that. Mouse traps work. Wonderful invention, mouse traps – can’t say as I could get along without ‘em.”

Daniel’s eyes widened. He nodded nervously. “They sure ‘nough do, Ma.”

“You ought to know,” she replied with a smirk.

Matthew openly grimaced. “No mouse traps, Mother, please?”

“What’s the matter, Matty?” Daniel asked. “Where’s yer sense of adventure?”

“I need my hands for work,” he stated, then smiled at his mother.

“That goes for me too,” Mr. Quinn volunteered. “You wouldn’t want Matthew and I unable to do our jobs, would you?”

“All I know is that if you boys don’t stop eating half a pie every afternoon, I’m going to stop baking them!” Aunt Betsy warned.

“Now that there’s a clear threat if’n I ever heard one,” Daniel said in awe. “Me, I’d rather face the mouse traps than live without pie.”

“If we don’t stop flapping our gums,” his mother said, “we’ll never get a chance to enjoy what little we have in front of us.”

Ebba laughed. “All of this over pie?”

“Pie is serious business in this house,” Betsy stated. “And just as serious at my sister’s.”

Ebba smiled at Ma. “I won’t steal your pie.”

“I’m sure you won’t, child. Which is why I’ll have you help me set the traps.”

Daniel groaned. “I ain’t even married yet and Ma’s turning my wife against me!”

Ebba laughed again. Daniel joined her and together they started to eat their pie.

T
he next morning
Ebba awoke at the crack of dawn. Or rather, Ma Weaver woke her by banging on her door at the crack of dawn. “Time to get going, Ebba girl! Let’s not waste daylight! Do what you have to do, gather your things and meet me downstairs!”

Ebba sat up, stretched and yawned. She’d slept like the dead – she hadn’t realized how tired she was. Of course, all the laughing last night had helped relax her. She realized that she’d never shared such laughter before, not even with her own family. It felt good, and she was eager to share it again. She hoped the opportunity presented itself during that day, or at the very least, that night.