Mail-Order Bride Ink: Dear Mr. Turner (10 page)

“So I’ll get to meet a good percentage of them,” Pleasant commented with a smile, and Belle chuckled.

Harrison walked in through the front door and did a quick head count. “Honoria!” he called up the stairs. “Come along, sweetling, or we’ll be late.”

“I’m coming.” She hurried down to join them, adjusted her bonnet, smiled at her parents, then rushed out the door before anyone had a chance to blink.

“I declare,” Pleasant said. “But what’s her hurry?”

“Her father hates being late,” Sadie explained.

“Quite so,” Harrison agreed, offering Sadie his arm. “Shall we to town then, wife?”

She smiled before wrapping her arm through his. “We shall.” Colin followed suit, and Belle took his arm with a bright smile.

Pleasant watched the two couples and felt a pinch of envy. She wondered if Mr. Turner had such manners tucked away somewhere. From what she’d seen so far, he was far rougher. But was it fair to compare him to the Cookes? They were English gentlemen and their manners had not been dampened by years living in the American West. She, born and raised on a Southern plantation, had also been taught impeccable manners.

She hoped she’d be able to keep hers intact after years of marriage to a farm-raised country lawman. Yet he’d been so utterly charming and – dare she say – adorable the night he’d presented her with her gifts. He was hardly without dignity or grace.

She smiled at the thought and followed her hosts out the door.

By the time they got to town she’d convinced herself once again that she was doing the right thing, that Mr. Turner was a good choice for her. Not to mention the only choice, as far as Mrs. Pettigrew was concerned. Pleasant suspected she had other applicants, but for some reason the woman was adamant that Mr. Turner was the right one. She’d put her trust in the matchmaker, as had her aunt. Best to hold onto that and hope the woman knew what she was doing.

“Here we are!” Harrison announced as he brought the team to a halt in front of Dunnigan’s Mercantile. “Have a good time, ladies. Colin and I will tend to our business while you tend to yours.”

“Business?” Sadie said with a huff. “You’re going to the sheriff’s office to see if Tom got a letter from Sheriff Hughes.”

“Harlan Hughes, dearest,” Harrison said. “He’s retired, remember?”

“To me he’ll always be Sheriff Hughes,” she said.

“Harlan’s sister Leona lives in Nowhere, Washington,” Belle explained to Pleasant. “He married a widow, Mary Weaver, a mother of four sons. All four are married now, with
lots
of children, living together on a huge farm. Getting a letter from Harlan and listening to Tom – Sheriff Turner – read about the things that happen up there keeps us entertained for weeks!”

Pleasant smiled, confused. “You have a large family with lots of children on your place. What’s the difference?”

Colin and Harrison exchanged a quick glance. “Because these are
Weavers
,” Colin said, in a voice to strike terror into the soul.

“The Weavers are a, er … boisterous lot,” Harrison said.

“To put it diplomatically,” Sadie added dryly. “Sheriff Turner can tell you all about them.”

“And where our families combined are formidable, we’re much more, shall we say, birds of a feather?” Colin said. “The Weaver men married women from all over.”

“All over where?” Pleasant asked him as he helped Belle out of the wagon.

“One is from the South like yourself,” he said. “One came from back East somewhere – Connecticut, I think. Another is Italian and yet another is Swedish.”

“What’s so odd about that?” she asked. It sounded like a typically diverse day at the port of Savannah to her.

“Oh, and the Italian woman brought her seven younger brothers and sisters to live with them,” Harrison mentioned as he helped Sadie down.

Pleasant’s eyes went wide. “
Seven
?”

“Seven
Italian
children,” Harrison emphasized. “All of them loud. We number at twenty if you count the Kincaids but not the ranch hands. They’re at twenty-five … twenty-six … somewhere around there.”

Pleasant could only stare. “This Harlan fellow must write quite a letter.”

“Every time!” Harrison helped her down.

Once she was on her feet she began to fan herself with her hand. “Oh dear. I’ve never given any thought to children.” She stared at them, wide-eyed. “I do hope Mr. Turner isn’t expecting me to bear him an army!”

The two couples looked at one another, then burst out laughing.

“I see nothing funny about it!” Pleasant took a few steps back. “Really!”

Belle managed to calm down first. “I think you’d best take things one step at a time, Miss Comfort. Worry about getting married first.”

Pleasant absently smoothed her skirt and patted her hair, feeling her cheeks grow hot. “Yes, of course.” There was nothing worse than making a fool of herself in public. She shouldn’t have said anything, but in her panic – not to mention a vision of herself with twelve little ones running willy-nilly – she’d spoken before thinking. She really needed to collect herself.

“Shall we go inside?” Sadie asked as she, too, stifled her chuckles.

“Yes, let’s.” Pleasant practically ran up the mercantile’s front steps. The sooner she could get away from the subject of children, the better!

“
W
hy
, she had fourteen children at last count!” Fanny Fig stated as if it were nothing.

Pleasant sat, horrified at the tale. No one of her acquaintance had that many children, or even close.

“I wouldn’t mind another one,” Lena Adams replied and looked at Pleasant. “Then he or she could play with your children.”

Pleasant looked around the room at the gathered ladies. It was a small group this week, so they met in the mercantile. When most of the women were in attendance, they met at the church. Still, there were over a dozen, most of them English and related to the Cookes.

“Promise me you’ll let Lena and I help you put in a garden,” Fina Stone, Lena’s sister, said.

Pleasant would be thoroughly shocked if she remembered all their names. The two who’d just spoken, however, were the more important – they were Mr. Turner’s neighbors, each living on either side of him. Not right next door, mind you, but near enough by Clear Creek standards. Lena explained she wouldn’t be able to see either house from Mr. Turner’s, but they were both within a reasonable walking distance.

“Certainly, that would be lovely,” she said. She’d never tended a garden in her life. One more thing to learn.

“I don’t believe Eli has spoken to my husband yet,” said Annie King the town preacher’s wife. “Do you plan to marry soon?”

“I’m not quite sure what Mr. Turner’s exact plans are,” Pleasant answered.

“Miss Comfort, I adore you name!” a blonde woman said. Another Cooke cousin, one named after a fruit. Pear? Plum?

“Why, thank you,” Pleasant said for safety’s sake.

“Are we gonna make this poor woman a wedding dress or not?” Irene Dunnigan barked, making everyone jump.

“Yes, of course, Auntie,” Belle said. “And as soon as it’s done, Pleasant and Eli can be married.”

Pleasant smiled. These women were nothing like the sour old matrons of Savannah. Some of the older ones looked a little careworn, but were – save for Mrs. Dunnigan – still cheerful. Mrs. Waller, the doctor’s wife whom everyone called “Grandma,” was the oldest – she had to be approaching her eighties, but could still giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Why don’t you have a wedding dress if you came here to be married?” the fruit – Apple, that was her name! – asked.

Pleasant straightened in her chair. She couldn’t tell them it was because she’d stolen away like a thief in the night to avoid marrying Rupert Jerney. “I didn’t have time to get one.” Which was true. “The matchmaker said I’d have to leave immediately.”

“That’s strange,” commented Annie. “I don’t recall Eli being in a hurry.”

Pleasant glanced around the room. “Perhaps she had other brides whom might have taken Mr. Turner. I’m not sure.”

“Is there much competition?” Mary Mulligan asked in her Irish brogue. “Are the men that scarce where ye come from?”

Pleasant arched an eyebrow. “Actually, they are somewhat. The war …”

“We don’t discuss politics here!” Irene huffed.

“You’re just bitter the Rebs lost,” Fanny carped.

“Fanny!” Annie said, aghast.

“And now you know why we don’t discuss politics,” Sadie muttered in Pleasant’s ear.

Irene’s face was red as a tomato as she glared at Pleasant. “Do you want a dress or not?”

Pleasant’s mouth dropped open. “My word!”

“Auntie,” Belle interjected. “Of course she does.” She turned to Pleasant. “We can all pitch in and have you a dress in no time.”

“Oh, but if it’s a bother …”

“Nonsense, we’d love to!” Grandma Waller said. “If you’re gonna be a part of this town, you gotta learn how we take care of each other.”

Pleasant smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Waller.”

“Call me Grandma. Everyone does.”

“I love your accent too!” Apple blurted. Lena rolled her eyes.

Pleasant’s eyebrows shot up. One moment she felt as if she were in polite society, surrounded by English ladies. Yet those same ladies were just as quirky as the American-born residents. How long would it take before she began to lose herself in this wilderness? Was it going to be worth it in the long run? Maybe she should’ve reconsidered … but it was too late for that now.

“Then it’s settled!” Irene got up and waddled to a shelf with bolts of fabric. “White or ivory? What’s your pleasure?”

All the ladies leaned forward in their seats, awaiting Pleasant’s answer. She glanced between them nervously. “White?”

“Good choice!” Irene pulled a bolt of white lace off the shelf, followed by one of white satin. “Let’s get to it!”

The women all began talking at once, their suggestions flying every which way. Pleasant fought the urge to cover her ears.

“Quiet!” Grandma yelled as she stood. “Land sakes, I know it’s been awhile since we had us a wedding around here, but you don’t have to go plumb loony! Let Miss Comfort tell us what she wants!”

The women sat like scolded schoolgirls as Grandma retook her seat. Pleasant sank a little in her own chair. For an old woman, Grandma could probably have scared the trousers off General Lee himself.

“Well, Miss Comfort?” Grandma asked. “Tell us what you’d like and we’ll do our best to make it for you.”

Pleasant swallowed hard. “Well, I … hadn’t given my dress much thought until now. I planned on getting married in one of the dresses I brought. This is so kind of you.” She glanced around the circle of ladies. “All of you.”

“What do you think Eli will like?” Apple asked.

“I have no idea.”

“Eli isn’t like his brother Tom,” another pretty blonde mused. Pleasant couldn’t remember her name, only that she was married to the younger doctor in town. Grandma was married to the older one. “I think something simple yet elegant. I should add that no matter what we make, Miss Comfort, with her beauty, will look stunning in it.”

Pleasant felt herself blush. “Thank you.”

“You have lovely hair,” Apple said. “I always wanted to have dark hair like that.”

“Stop it – you’re fine as you are,” a redhead said, speaking up for the first time.

“Oh Penelope, you always say that,” Apple said with a roll of her eyes.

“That’s because you’re always comparing yourself to others,” Penelope stated. “Not a good habit.”

“Ladies, let’s get back to the task at hand,” the young doctor’s wife said. She turned to Pleasant. “What do you think?”

Pleasant sat, unsure of what to say. She’d never sewn a thing – she’d always gone to a dressmaker’s shop for her clothes. Good grief, what if they wanted her to help? “White is fine with me.”

“Details, girl, details!” Irene snapped. “How are we supposed to make a wedding dress if you don’t tell us what you want? Or would you rather make it yourself?”

“Oh no!” Pleasant said, panicked. “That won’t do at all.”

“Why not?” Fina asked. “You’d get what you wanted that way.”

“Well, I …” Pleasant gulped. “I don’t exactly sew well. Or at all.” There, she’d said it. Let them think what they will.

Most of them just shrugged. “Few of us did when we arrived here,” Penelope replied. “Few of us knew how to do much of anything.” All the Cooke wives and cousins nodded.

Only Fanny Fig seemed shocked. “Don’t sew? Land sakes, girl, how old are you?”

“Eighteen,” Pleasant told her, more calmly than she felt.

Irene, Mary and Grandma gave each other a sage look. “Where did you say you were from?” Grandma asked.

“I didn’t, as I recall,” said Pleasant. “Savannah, Georgia.”

“Georgia?” Fanny said in shock. “Well, that explains that ridiculous accent, but not why you don’t sew!”

“Fanny …,” Annie groaned, her face in her hands.

Pleasant was beginning to “lose her religion,” as Major liked to say. “I had no reason to learn how to sew where I come from.”

“And why is that?” Fanny asked, indignant.

“Because I had a dressmaker and servants, that’s why. If I wanted something mended, my maid saw it done.”

Several of the women gasped, but not because they felt insulted. “You had servants?” Apple said enviously. “Oh, how I miss having them! I had the most wonderful lady’s

maid back in England.”

“Well, we had one
between the three of us,” Fina corrected, then turned to Pleasant. “You were very lucky to have your own.”

“Servants?” Mary said with a shake of her head. “There be none of those here in Clear Creek. As much as it pains me to say, I have to agree with Fanny – ye’ll have to learn yer way around a needle, lass. It’s fine and dandy ye got to grow up with servants to wait on ye all of yer life, Miss Comfort, but here we make our own way in the world.”

“I never said I wouldn’t have to learn, Mrs. Mulligan,” Pleasant said. “I was simply trying to explain why I haven’t yet.”

“Land sakes, let’s not pick on the poor girl – or anyone else,” Grandma said, aiming a glare at Fanny. “We got work to do. We’ll take care of your wedding dress for you, Miss Comfort, and we’ll gladly teach you how to sew. But eventually you’ll have to do it on your own.”

“Teach her?” Fanny groused. “Speak for yourself, Grandma,”

“Teaching her how to sew is the least ye can do, Fanny!” Mary insisted. “Especially seeing as your husband works with hers.”

“And seeing as how you were just treating her,” Annie scolded.

All eyes fixed on Fanny, and she sunk lower in her chair. “Fine, I’ll pitch in too.”

“Mighty neighborly of you, Fanny,” Grandma said dryly. She looked at Pleasant. “But as I said, any of us would be glad to help.”

Pleasant looked around the circle. “That’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever heard. None of you even know me.”

“You’re going to marry Eli Turner, ain’t ya?” Grandma said. “That makes you a part of this town, and folks around here help each other out – even with sewing lessons. We helped Mrs. Stone and Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Bennett and so on – no reason we wouldn’t help you too.”

Pleasant smiled. “As I’ll be living closest to Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Stone, perhaps they would be willing to help me.”

“Of course,” Lena said with a smile as Fina nodded vigorously.

Pleasant smiled back. She looked forward to meeting the rest of the English contingent – Penelope’s two sisters weren’t in attendance that day, partly because, as Belle explained on the way to town, they lived so far away. Penelope’s sister Eloise and her husband Seth used to work in the hotel, but turned the job over to another couple, Lorcan and Ada Brody, about five years ago. Ada probably wasn’t in attendance because Lorcan was blind and needed her assistance.

“The sooner we get to work on this, ladies, the sooner we get done, and the sooner Miss Comfort can get hitched,” Grandma said. She looked at Pleasant. “Now, come on, dear –tell us what you’d like.”

* * *

T
wo hours
, two plates of cookies and a pitcher of lemonade later, the sewing circle drew to a close. Never had Pleasant been bombarded with so many questions in so short a time – and all over a dress! She’d go over a few with her dressmaker back home, but all she really had to do was tell the woman what color she wanted and the woman did the rest. Here in Clear Creek, things were definitely different – she practically had to tell them where to put each button. And how would she even know where to begin when she’d never sewn before?

But she did come away with a fantastic cookie recipe from Irene. The woman might be cantankerous, but everyone agreed she could cook – half the women in town aspired to the culinary heights of the ladle-wielding grouch. She’d have to ask her for more recipes, if she could work up the nerve.

Pleasant was about to ask Sadie about one other dynamic – Fanny Fig’s seeming hostility toward all things Southern – when Eli walked into the mercantile. “Howdy, ladies,” he said as his eyes locked on her. “How’d the circle go today?”

“Ye’ll be happy to know we’re working on yer bride’s wedding dress,” Mary said with a wink.

“Are ya, now? Well, that suits me fine. How soon do ya think you’ll have it done?”

“Next week if things go well,” Annie said. “Some of us are meeting at the church tomorrow to work on it. Including your bride,” she added with a tiny smile.

Pleasant felt herself blush. “Are you here to buy something, Mr. Turner?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Well, I was in town and thought I’d look at a few things,” he said, never taking his eyes off her.

“Seems to me you’re looking at only one thing!” Fanny snapped.

“What is in your craw today?” Grandma demanded. “Leave the younguns be! Land sakes, they’re gonna get hitched.”

“That’s no excuse for indecent behavior!” Fanny shot back. Several of the women looked at each other, then at Fanny.

“I assure you, Mrs. Fig,” Pleasant said, “that Mr. Turner is doing nothing untoward.”

“Of course you’d say that!” Fanny spat. “Otherwise you’d be as guilty as him!”

Now Eli gaped at her, his mouth half-open in shock. “Fanny, what’s gotten into ya? I ain’t done nothin’! Can’t a man look at his bride?”

“Not the way you’re looking at her!”

Grandma put her hands on her hips and scowled. “Fanny Fig, if I was Henry, I’d give you a good tongue-lashing the way you’re treating these two younguns.”

“Well, you’re not my Henry, are you? And what’s he got to do with any of this anyway?”