A Mid-Summer's Mail-Order Bride (12 page)

“That does it!” Warren pulled back on the reins, brought the team to a stop and turned to his grandfather. They were halfway home, and up until now the old man hadn’t stopped talking. “Grandpa, ever since Bernice got here you’ve been saying things like that and pushing and prodding and cracking wise, and I’ve been silent out of respect for my elders, but enough is truly enough! I don’t see how I’ve treated her with any ill intent just because I’ve refused to make promises I’m not sure I can keep. What kind of a person do you think I am?”

“A scared one,” he answered solemnly.

Warren blinked a few times. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Ya know, boy, just because yer ma was a frail little thing, that don’t mean this gal’s cut from the same cloth. Ya don’t know that she’s gonna up and die as young as your ma did.”

Warren stiffened, pressed his lips together and sucked air through his nose. “That’s not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, son. If’n it was, both yer folks would still be alive and so would yer grandma. We’d all be living in the place as one big happy family, just like the Rileys. Heck, you might even be married by now and have a youngun on the way.”

“Yeah, well … that’s not how things turned out, is it?” Warren sighed.

“No, it ain’t. But it don’t mean it’ll happen again, neither.”

Warren stared at the road and said nothing, but he had to concede that his grandfather had a good point. He was nine when he lost his mother. She’d been working in the orchards and got caught in a sudden storm. A simple cold turned into pneumonia, and the doctor said that if she’d been a stronger woman, she would’ve been able to lick it. But his mother was like Bernice Caulder: short, thin, spritely … and totally unsuited to the trails of the frontier.

He hadn’t made the connection before, but now that it had been spelled out for him it was impossible to miss. Maybe that’s what intrigued him about Bernice, that she reminded him of his mother. Maybe that’s why he wanted to protect her from a harsh world – and at the same time was reluctant for fear of failing again.

“Ya can’t go through life being afeared of repeatin’ the past, boy. You gotta move forward, it’s one of the reasons I ordered ya a bride.”

Warren closed his eyes, bowed his head and swallowed hard. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, Grandpa. I’ll marry when I’m good and ready. No sooner, no later.” He looked at him. “Don’t force me.”

“I sent for her because I love ya,” Grandpa said softly.

“I know you love me, Grandpa. But … but it’s just like Clayton told his ma. It’d be better if you wait to help until I ask.” He gave the horses a slap with the reins and they were off again.

His grandfather spoke no more of it – in fact he didn’t say another word, not even when they got back to the farm. Instead, he did just as Bernice had – he marched into the house and up to his room. Warren watched him go, shaking his head. He sure had a knack for sending people away unhappy. It was a pity he’d been too young to fight in the war, he thought – General Grant could’ve just sent him to the front lines, and by the end of the day the Confederate army would have been walking home, moping all the way …

He unhitched the team, got them settled for the night and went into the house. By then, Grandpa was already in bed – Warren could hear his snoring from downstairs. The man made enough noise to wake the dead, he thought with a chuckle.

Then he had a sudden vision of Bernice tossing and turning beside him, and how he would still her restlessness … ugh. He ran a hand through his hair. “Get a hold of yourself man! What are you thinking?” He’d marry Bernice Caulder when he was good and ready – provided they even wanted to marry by that point. First, he wanted to see if they’d suit. And maybe he also wanted to see if she’d suit with life on the farm. She was a delicate thing – how would she manage come harvest time?

Maybe Grandpa was right. Maybe he was afraid he’d lose her, just as he had his mother. And with his luck, it would be right after he’d fallen in love.

Twelve

A loud knock sounded at the front door. Bernice jumped in her chair, yelping in surprise.

“Land sakes, dear, calm down,” Mrs. Riley said. “It’s not like the man is some kind of criminal. He’s come to pay you a visit, not carry you off.”

“Maybe it would be better if he
was
here to carry me off. At least then I’d know he was going to marry me.”

“I’m going to answer the door – and while I do you think about what you just said. Warren Johnson is being wise by wanting to court first. For all you know, you might find out you can’t stand the man.”

Bernice watched her leave the kitchen, her words hanging in the air like a storm cloud. As much as she hated to admit it, Mrs. Riley was right. Most mail-order brides got married as soon as they got off the stage – and then were stuck. Their husbands could be decrepit, drunkards, spendthrifts, abusive … and the wives would have little recourse. She still had options, even if they were unpalatable ones.

And she had time to find out if he had any horrible habits. Well, she’d already found one – his habit of indecision – but were there others? Did he pick his teeth with nails? What if he wanted to pick
her
teeth with nails? No, that seemed unlikely. Maybe he snored like a bear. (
Did
bears snore? She had no idea.) Perhaps he had a nasty temper he’d kept hidden so far …

She shook her head, annoyed with her line of thinking, and stood. She heard voices in the front hall and took a deep breath. If Warren Johnson wanted to court in order to get to know her, then by golly, she was going to let him. At least
she
didn’t pick her teeth with nails!

She left the kitchen just as Mrs. Riley stepped back in. “Oh!” the woman exclaimed as she collided with Bernice. “Good heavens, I didn’t see you coming! I thought I might have to drag you into the parlor!”

“Not at all. I’m ready for whatever Mr. Johnson throws at me.”

“Just make sure you don’t throw something at him, especially my blue vase. It’s my favorite – I’d hate to see it broken.”

Bernice smiled at the joke, then headed into the hall. She certainly hoped Warren didn’t give her a reason to throw something at him. Last night, she might have - maybe if she’d dumped the bucket of water over his head, she’d have felt better. But it was her own thoughts about the situation that had tortured her most of the night. The man was here to get to know her, and if they found they didn’t suit, wouldn’t she be better off?

She realized as she walked into the parlor that he was still trying to protecting her, even from himself. “Hello.”

“Bernice,” Warren said. He was standing there nervously, wringing his hands. “Won’t you sit down? Mrs. Riley has gone to make some coffee.”

“Thank you,” she said and sat on the loveseat. He took a chair, placed it near her and sat. “I trust you slept well?”

Small talk. Great.
“Not at all. You?” She wanted it clear – she wasn’t going to lie to him. Not even if he preferred it. Take me as I am, or not at all.

“Er … well, I’ve slept better.”

Her eyes widened at that. “And why didn’t you get any sleep?”

“On account of Sam’s snoring. He’s louder than a herd of buffalo.”

Her eyes widened further. “And how would you know what a herd of buffalo sounds like?”

“I’ve seen them.”

“Oh … well, I suppose you have. On your way to or from school?”

“Both.”

She put her hands in her lap and clasped them together. What to say now?

“Are you feeling better this morning?” he asked.

She almost jumped at the question. “Um, yes.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m glad to hear it.” He let his breath out. “Sorry, but I’m not very good at this. I’ve never courted a woman before.”

She sat a little straighter. “Really? I would think at your age you would have courted quite a few.”

“My
age
? I’m not exactly a graybeard. How old do you think I am?”

“Um … I don’t know. I just assumed that since you’ve been off at school …”

“Well, I’ll have you know I’m twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four!” She snapped her mouth shut. The way she’d said it made it sound like he
was
a graybeard!

“I stayed and helped with the farm a few years before going off to college,” he explained.

“That makes sense. I have some friends who did the same thing back home.” She gave him a shy smile. “What did you study?”

“Agronomy. Sort of the science of farming. I have great plans for our farm. Would you like to hear them?”

There was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He obviously loved his family’s farm and she wanted to know more. What else did he love? His favorite color? Did he like how she’d pinned up her hair that morning? “Tell me,” she said, a little breathless.

And he did. He outlined his plans to diversify his crops, to acquire more land if he could, to find new outlets for the apples they grew and maybe expand into walnuts. He speculated about building a new farmhouse one day and giving the one he and his grandfather lived in to his own son. He talked and talked, and hardly noticed when Mrs. Riley brought in cookies and coffee for them.

“My, those sound like lofty goals,” Bernice said when the woman left.

“I figure it’s best to aim high. And they can all be accomplished if I tackle them one at a time.”

“It’s as if you have your whole life planned out.”

“I suppose. Though I’ve been learning lately that it’s best to keep one’s plans flexible.”

“I would hope so – after all, one has to account for the unexpected.”

He frowned slightly at her words, and she wondered if she’d said something wrong. “Yes,” he agreed as he stared into his cup. “They do.”

She studied him and knew,
knew
something had happened to him to cause the look on his face. “Are you all right?”

He chewed on his lower lip and nodded. “It’s … not something I like to talk about.”

“Very well, I won’t pry.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“I have things I don’t like to talk about either. I suppose everybody does.”

He smiled. “Then I won’t pry either.”

“I don’t mind if you do,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Half my hometown probably knows by now – and besides, I’m not there anyway.”

Now he studied her in turn. “Does this have anything to do with … your abduction?”

She looked at her hands. “In a way.”

He scooted forward in his chair. “What happened?”

She looked up at him. The brightness in his eyes was back, but different. He genuinely wanted to know.

So she told him. She talked about her mother, how overbearing she could be, her growing greed when she found out Bernice witnessed two of her abductors going off to bury stolen loot. She told him how she, Jess Templeton and his new bride found it. She went into her own fumbling attempts to find a man, how her mother had spurred her on, and how she’d come to realize her own foolishness. She even discussed her etiquette lessons, and how the Professor and Mr. Winters had helped her overcome (some of) her awkwardness.

“So that’s why I left Independence to become a mail-order bride,” she concluded. “There were no men left to marry anyway – at least none that my mother would let me marry. What other options did I have?”

Warren sat back in his chair. “What, indeed. I must say, Bernice, you’ve had some adventures.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve had some. Why don’t you tell me about them?”

He smiled and reached for a cookie. “All right …”

* * *

They talked longer than either of them expected, until they noticed Summer and Elle beginning the usual pre-supper chores. “My goodness! It must be getting late,” Bernice said.

Warren glanced around the parlor. “Good grief! What time is it?”

Summer came around the corner. “Late enough for you to stay for supper if you don’t have to get home.”

“What!?”

Bernice’s hands flew to her mouth to stifle a laugh – the look on his face was priceless! “We were lost in our discussion, I suppose.”

“But … we were talking about apples!” Warren sputtered. “Who gets lost in discussing different varieties of apples?”

“Apparently, you two,” Summer said with a sly smile. “Should I set an extra plate?”

He stood. “I, I can’t, I have to go. I shouldn’t have stayed so long as it is – too much work back on the farm. Why didn’t one of you say something?”

“Why?” Summer asked. “You came for a purpose and I’d say you accomplished it, didn’t you?”

“I …” He looked at Bernice and smiled. “Yes. Yes, I have.”

She smiled back and blushed.

“Until tomorrow, then?” he asked. “I mean … if it’s all right with you.” He quickly looked at Summer. “And the family, of course.”

Summer pursed her lips. “I think the two of you should do something different tomorrow. Say, a picnic!”

Bernice’s eyes lit up as she stood. “Oh yes!”

Warren was stunned for a second before recovering. “Er, yes. That … that sounds like a splendid idea. A picnic it is.”

She looked up at him, her smile back. “I think a picnic sounds …”

“Romantic?” Summer said as she turned and strolled down the hall.

Bernice locked eyes with him. “Yes,” she breathed.

“Yes,” Warren whispered numbly. The more time he spent with Bernice, the more he liked her. The problem was, the more time he spent with her, the less suited she seemed to be a farmer’s wife. She would be a much better fit for a townhouse in New York – or a classroom in New Haven – than life on an apple farm.

The question was, what was he going to do about it?

* * *

Bernice hurried to her room as soon as Warren left and pulled out every dress she had. If she was to go on a picnic the next day, she wanted to look her very best. The blue calico? What about the yellow with the white ribbon on the bodice? Drat! Here she was, criticizing Warren about his inability to decide, and she couldn’t settle on a dress to wear?!

“What are you doing?” Elle asked, standing in the doorway.

“Picking out a dress for tomorrow.”

“Already?”

“Of course. I’m bound to change my mind at least three times between now and then. This way I’ll have plenty of time to do it.”

Elle burst out laughing. “No one can say you don’t know your own mind, Bernice Caulder, that’s for sure.”

Bernice put the dress she was holding onto the bed and turned to her. “I suppose I’ve got that, at least.”

Elle nodded. “Yes, I’d say you do. I wish I had been more like you when I first came here.”

Bernice plopped down on the bed. “You do?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes! I was so scared and upset. I should’ve known I could trust Spencer and his family to do the right thing concerning my situation. Instead, I thought he was going to arrest me.”

Bernice gasped. “No!”

Elle nodded. “I was scared … and a little foolish, I guess. But I know better now.”

Bernice’s shoulders slumped. “I’m still scared.”

“Of course. It’s only natural. But at least all you have to worry about with Warren is getting to know him better. I had to worry about whether or not Spencer was going to have me hanged.”

Bernice grimaced. “You win.”

“I did. Eventually.”

“I have no excuse to be afraid of Warren. We had a lovely time today talking about things.”

“What
did
you talk about?”

“Everything … nothing … I don’t remember much now.”

Elle laughed again. “Ohhhh … you have it
bad
.”

Bernice giggled. “I suppose I do. He’s handsome, don’t you think?”

“Personally I think Spencer is more handsome, but I’m biased,” she said with a wink.

“Of course.”

“Warren does have nice eyes, though.”

Bernice fiddled with the ribbon on her yellow dress. “Yes, he does.”

“If he’d been sitting any closer to you, you could’ve poked him in the eye with a cookie.”

“What? Were you spying on us?”

“I was in the kitchen with Summer. We were chaperoning, remember? It’s our job to spy.”

Bernice laughed. “Thank you for doing it so … discreetly.”

“You’re welcome. Now how about we get supper started?”

Bernice sighed dreamily and followed Elle into the kitchen. She’d wear her yellow dress tomorrow – yes, definitely the yellow.