Sixteen Brides (27 page)

Lucas Gray.
Was that man not a caution. That day at the ranch when he’d warned her about Lowell Day, he’d seemed like a different person. He hadn’t flirted once the entire time they talked. Even more strange than the change in Lucas himself was the fact that he’d asked about Matthew, bringing up the name and then backing away, almost as if he needed to know something but couldn’t quite ask the real question.

It seemed that whatever Caroline thought about these days, she was confused. She couldn’t quite convince herself to forget Lowell Day. Lucas Gray seemed to be a different man from the one she’d met on the train. And after seeming to find her attractive, Matthew had retreated.

On better days, Caroline could laugh at the idea of Caroline Jamison
not
being surrounded by men declaring their undying love. On other days, she jumped at odd noises and imagined Lowell Day lurking behind the barn. All of this and more circled through Caroline’s mind as she hauled water to keep the trees alive, and shelled peas and pulled carrots, and watched her once-perfect hands disintegrate into the hands of a woman who worked for her supper.

Perhaps a drive to town would help clear her mind. She certainly wasn’t finding any answers watering trees or pulling green beans. And, try as she might, the promise that she just might run into Matthew and the knowledge that she would at least get to see Linney, who would likely talk about Matthew, got Caroline into the buggy with the rest of the ladies.

Sally was the first to react to the changes in Plum Grove with a low whistle and her usual “Well, ain’t this somethin’.”

“How could it have changed so much in only a few weeks?” Caroline wondered aloud.

“Look at that.” Zita pointed to a
Grand Opening
banner hung above the door of the newly completed combination photography studio and dressmaker. The frames for three more buildings along Main had been erected since the last time the ladies were in Plum Grove. Otto Ermisch was adding on to the livery.

“Are those
houses
?” Ruth pointed to half a dozen small buildings in various stages of construction on the prairie a short distance north of Main Street.

Is Matthew building them?
“I declare.” Caroline shook her head. “Can you believe it? There’s hardly room to hitch a team on Main.”

Ruth swung the carriage alongside the outdoor stairway leading up to the Haywoods’ living quarters and hitched Calico to the stair rail.

As the ladies rounded the corner toward the mercantile’s front door, Ella pointed toward the open wagon across the way with the hotel name emblazoned on the side. “Do you suppose they meet every train with that thing? I wonder if that’s hurting the Immigrant House business.”

“Who’s to say?” Zita said. “But I don’t imagine
that’s
helping the mercantile much.” She pointed to the store across Main advertising
Special Prices
that would
Beat All Competitors
.

“Well, now,” Sally piped up. “That’s just rude. There ain’t any competition but the Haywoods. It ain’t friendly to start a business by attackin’ the neighbors. I wonder what Martha thinks of it.”

Martha thought the newcomers were interlopers, they soon found out. High and mighty. They looked out for themselves over and above the community. When Will asked them to contribute to the village fund for community promotion, they nearly tossed him out of the store on his ear. “Nearly tossed him
out
,” Martha repeated. “Can you imagine?” She shook her head. “When I think of all my William’s done for this county. For the way he’s worked all these years—” She snapped the length of flannel in her hands for emphasis before smoothing it on the counter. “How many yards did you say?”

“Ten,” Sally answered. “I got to get a head start making some warm petticoats for all of us.”

Linney came in the front door, and after offering an enthusiastic greeting to the ladies, she glanced Martha’s way and shook her head.

“Let’s hear it,” Martha said.

“Lots of business. And that flannel.” She nodded at the striped piece the ladies were buying. “It’s a nickel a yard cheaper over there.”

“Cheaper quality, though,” Martha said.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not. I sneaked a peek at the paper label. It’s from the same mill as that.” Linney pointed to the bolt lying on the counter.

Martha shook her head. “The Immigrant House is full, the dining hall is doing a booming business, and look—” She gestured around her store, empty save for the ladies of Four Corners. “Something has to change. I just don’t know what.”

“They won’t last long,” Linney said. “They can’t.” She glanced at Caroline. “They aren’t even
nice
. It’s all about the price over there. You should have heard the way they treated some of the German ladies.” Linney smirked. “As if
shouting
would make someone who doesn’t speak English understand you.” She smiled at Martha. “Just be patient. Soon enough folks will realize who’s friendly when they come through the door and who takes the time to make people feel
welcome.
”

The ladies all agreed. “You’ll always have our business.”

“You’re warmhearted and you make strangers feel welcome,” Zita said with a nod.

“Several of us were near to demanding return tickets when we first arrived,” Caroline offered. “We stayed in Plum Grove mostly because of you.”

“And here I thought it was Hamilton Drake’s promises and that spring snowfall.” Martha laughed, although it was obvious she appreciated the kind words. “Speaking of Hamilton Drake, you’ll love this. He went back to St. Louis intending to bring more brides west, but all he got was a bride of his own. Helen said that James got the telegram last week. He’s married and working for his wife’s family.”

“Working at what?” Sally asked.

“Something down on the levee. Can you imagine?”

“All I got to say is his wife better check his pockets to make sure he isn’t selling dances with those steamboat girls on the side.” Sally crossed to the fabric shelf and ran her hand over a length of double pink calico, even as she returned to the topic of how Martha’s being so nice was one of the things that she’d always remember about her first impressions of Plum Grove.

“Well, thank you.” Martha folded the length of flannel and then wrapped it with paper. Suddenly she looked up, her smile widening. “That’s it, Sally! Thank you! That’s what we’ll do!” Newly energized, she grabbed a piece of paper and began to write furiously. “I’ll take out half a page in the
Pioneer
—I wonder how much they’re charging for that—and Bill Toady can play—and we’ll put it right out front—a dance floor—right in the street—” She kept writing as she talked, and finally she held up a small version of a poster. “What do you think?”

HAYWOOD MERCANTILE
WELCOMES YOU TO PLUM GROVE WITH
MORE THAN FAIR PRICES
COME ONE, COME ALL TO THE
INDEPENDENCE DAY WELCOME DANCE
JULY 4, 1871 DANCE TILL YOUR FEET DROP OFF
FREE REFRESHMENTS TO ALL OUR NEW FRIENDS
COURTESY OF HAYWOOD MERCANTILE
THE FIRST, THE BEST, AND THE LAST DRY GOODS STORE
A SETTLER WILL EVER NEED
YOU AREN’T JUST A CUSTOMER—YOU’RE A FRIEND
AT THE
HAYWOOD MERCANTILE

Martha pointed with her pencil as she spoke. “Now, if the paper can just put a drawing down in this corner of something ladies like—say, high-button shoes—and something over here for the men—maybe a hat—don’t you think that’ll just set it off beautifully? We’ll bake up some nice cakes . . . and Mavis said there’s a fellow staying at the Immigrant House who plays the accordion. And another who’s really good on a mouth harp. We’ll get a jump on what anyone else might want to do for the Fourth.”

Martha paused. “It can be a new tradition . . . Haywood Mercantile and Independence Day. It’s perfect.” As Linney began to wrap up the other things the ladies had stacked on the counter, Martha flipped through a stack of mail sitting in the “post office” on the back shelf.

“Could you . . . would you mind giving this to Jeb Cooper? I hear he’s been doing a lot of work on your place lately.”

“Not so much,” Ella said.

“But we could stop by on our way home,” Ruth offered. “It’s not that far out of the way.”

“Thank you. I know he’d appreciate it. He gets a letter every week or so—addressed with such beautiful script. And—” Martha reached below the counter and pulled out a beautifully embossed leather-bound book. “This came with the last letter. Someone made a mess of the package. I’ll rewrap it if you can deliver it.”

Ruth gazed down at the Four Corners shopping list and said, “Go ahead and wrap it. We’re finished for this trip.”

“But you didn’t get your coffee yet. Or the cinnamon. And what about—”

“The rest will have to wait.”

“But . . . why?” Martha asked.

“Don’t worry.” Ruth was quick to reassure her. “We aren’t headed across the street. We just need to be careful. We can do without the rest for now.”

“Let me show you something.” Martha reached for her ledger book and, opening it to a new page, turned it around and held it up for all to see. “You see this says
Four Corners
at the top.” She pointed to the credit balance. “You’ll also see that you can get whatever you need today.”

“But-but,” Ella sputtered. “That’s—”

“That,” Martha said, “is Lucas Gray’s way of thanking Ruth and Hettie for saving his life.” She lowered her voice. “And his note said to make sure he’s notified when it’s down to twenty dollars. Which I take to mean you will all have a running credit here.”

Ruth and Hettie exchanged glances. “He won’t listen,” Ruth said.

“Rocks for brains.” Hettie shook her head.

Caroline lingered in the mercantile while the others headed to the dining hall for lunch. She wasn’t hungry, and while she wasn’t exactly hiding, if she stayed and helped Martha so that Linney could have lunch with the others, she would not only have a chance for a nice visit with Martha but also avoid running into anyone who was, according to Linney, working on the newest building on the other side of Main today. Someone she was already thinking about entirely too much. Someone who probably didn’t want to see her anyway.

“Not that I need help,” Martha said as the ladies exited, “but I’m pleased as can be to have a chance to catch up on Four Corners news.”

Caroline recited the garden news, the livestock news, the weather news, and the news that, according to Hettie, Lucas Gray’s leg was going to be fine. When Martha thanked the good Lord for that miracle, Caroline nodded agreement. They were standing by the counter when Martha reached over and grasped Caroline’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything.”

Surprised when tears gathered so quickly, Caroline squeezed back. “Thank you,” she said. “But there’s really nothin’ anybody can do.”

“I can—and will—pray for you, dear. And that’s not nothing.” After a moment Martha said, “He does care for you, you know. And Linney flat-out adores you. Give him time, Caroline.”

She sighed. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, but I’ve been watching. And listening. Linney talks about you all the time. And when she talks about you, Matthew enjoys listening. He’s drawn to you, but he’s going to be careful about it. That’s wise. Just give him time, dear.”