Frontier Want Ad Bride

“Yes, I told Mr. Ashford to build on this side of Main Street. I wanted a good view. The forest can be so forbidding. Plus if the river ever floods, we’ll be on higher ground. The shops across the street are much too close to the river.”

Judith glimpsed the blacksmith’s sign across and to her right. That’s where Asa was. Her heart tightened. Something was trapped within Asa and she didn’t know what. He was like a parcel glued and tied shut. Was this just due to their being strangers to one another? Yes, that must be it, she hoped.

“Now, how is it going with you and Mr. Brant?” the storekeeper’s wife asked the very question Judith could not quite figure out herself.

And what did the woman expect her to say? “He won’t talk to me and I can’t figure out why”? “We’re doing fine. Just getting to know each other. Asa is so considerate.” But secretive. Or maybe not. Maybe men just didn’t talk much about themselves. But why can’t he even tell me how many brothers and sisters he has or the name of his hometown? Judith pushed this out of her mind and hoped her expression revealed nothing.

Mrs. Ashford was staring at her, obviously wanting more details about the newlyweds.

Casting around for a safe subject, Judith lifted her cup in front of her face. “Mr. Brant—Asa—presented me with a sewing machine for a wedding gift.”

“I know!” Mrs. Ashford crowed. “I helped him choose it from the catalogue for you. Such a thoughtful gift, and so useful.”

Judith agreed, interrupting the flow of the woman’s conversation.

“It’s too bad the weather has been so cold. We usually have a lovely spring here in Pepin.” Their hostess kept up a steady stream of chatter, to which she and Emma merely had to agree.

Judith was aware that her sister was trying to hide mirth at Mrs. Ashford’s curiosity and constant chattering. Emma possessed a ready and sometimes inappropriate sense of humor. Judith sent her a reproving glance.

Emma bit her lower lip.

Judith thought, Please, can’t I have a moment alone with my sister?

As if Mrs. Ashford heard Judith’s thought, she rose from the table. “I need to brown the beef for lunch and start it cooking. Please excuse me.”

Judith drew in a relieved but silent breath.

Emma muffled a giggle behind her hand.

Judith scolded and quizzed her sister with a glance.

“She never stops talking,” Emma whispered, “unless she’s eating or sleeping.”

Judith lifted her hands in a gesture that said What can I do about that?

“She’s really nice and kind, but I have trouble not teasing her. I don’t think she’d appreciate it.” Emma’s expression became serious. “How are you doing? What’s worrying you?”

Though she and Emma weren’t identical twins, they had always been attuned to each other. “It’s nothing, really.” Judith spoke in a low tone. “It’s just that Asa...avoids everyday questions. I asked him if he had brothers and sisters and he said, ‘Some of each.’”

Emma laughed.

Judith glared at her. “It’s not funny. We get along very well unless I ask him a personal question.”

“Perhaps he’s just a very private person,” Emma suggested.

“Even with his wife?”

“His very new wife. Just give it time, Judith.” Emma pressed a hand over Judith’s, which clutched her coffee cup.

Judith nodded. Her sister had given her good advice. She relaxed her hands. “What are you keeping busy doing?”

“I help with some chores, and yesterday I helped in the store. Mr. Ashford did it out of kindness, I think, to give me a chance to talk to someone besides his wife and daughter. The people here are really—”

They heard the sound of rapid footsteps and then Mr. Ashford called from the back door, “Katherine! You’ll never believe this!”

Both Judith and Emma turned to see the storekeeper hurry into the room and over to the front window. Mrs. Ashford bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “What is it?”

Mr. Ashford waved a paper. “This is his letter of resignation, and there he goes. He’s getting on the boat! I can’t believe it!”

“Who?” Mrs. Ashford said, joining her husband at the window. “That’s Mr. Thompson, the schoolmaster!”

“Yes! He just resigned!”

“What?” Mrs. Ashford squawked. “He can’t leave in the middle of the school year!”

“Well, there he goes,” Emma said. She’d moved to stand beside the Ashfords at the window.

“What got into him?” the storekeeper’s wife asked.

Mr. Ashford frowned down at the letter. “It just says he must go home because of a personal crisis.”

“What will we do come Monday? Who will teach?” Mrs. Ashford wailed.

“We can’t ask Mrs. Lang. She’s busy with her little ones.” The storekeeper stared out the window. Then he swung to Emma. “Miss Jones, will you please take over downstairs? I need to go to Noah Whitmore and Martin Steward, the other school board members, right away.”

“Of course,” Emma agreed. “I can handle matters.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Ashford was taking off his long store apron and hurrying toward the rear entrance. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Katherine. Just keep a plate warm for me.” And then he was jogging down the steps, pulling on his jacket and hat.

“Well, I never,” Mrs. Ashford said. “What is the world coming to?”

“I don’t know,” Emma replied. “I’ll head downstairs.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Ashford said. “Call me if you need any help.”

“I will.” Emma snagged a shawl and headed down the back steps. “Sorry, Judith!”

Judith rose. “I don’t know what to say. May I help you in the kitchen? Or go help my sister?”

Mrs. Ashford pulled herself together. “Why don’t you go down and help your sister finish your shopping? I’m making plenty of lunch. When your husband comes back, you two are more than welcome to stay and eat with us.”

The woman was indeed kind and hospitable. “Thank you. But I think he’ll want to go home as soon as we’re done.”

“I understand.” The woman beamed at her. “Newlyweds.” And then she returned to the kitchen.

Blushing, Judith donned her shawl and carried the rest of her warm wraps outside and into the store. The thought occurred to her that people here might look to her sister to fill in at the school, but that wouldn’t work. Emma had applied to teach in their home district and had been turned down as “not having the serious temperament necessary in an educator of children.” Nonjudgmental Emma had been surprised, but Judith hadn’t.

Very smart and good at all subjects, Emma would have made a lovely teacher, but all through school she’d been scolded for her humor and sudden outbursts of excited interest. Emma would never be the strict spinster teacher that school boards preferred. Emma was too pretty and jolly for them.

* * *

Carrying a sack of spices, Judith hurried inside, chilled from the short ride home. Asa came in after her and set several bags on the table. He went immediately to the banked fire and stirred it back to life.

“That woman can sure talk,” he said, rising. Asa had surprised her by accepting Mrs. Ashford’s lunch invitation.

Judith chuckled. “Yes, but her Salisbury steak and potatoes did not disappoint.”

“Can’t argue that. You need me right now? I have to take care of the horses.”

“No.”

He headed toward the door.

“But,” she said, halting him, “it occurred to Emma and me that we haven’t written home to our father. He isn’t in good health, and I want him to know Emma and I arrived safely and are doing well.”

“A good idea. We can give it to Ashford tomorrow at church. Mr. Ashford’s the local postmaster.” He opened the door.

“Asa, wait. I’d like you to write a line to my father. I think that would reassure him.” Her father had been very concerned about his twin daughters going away to marry strangers.

Asa paused, his expression froze into vertical lines. “I’ll see about that later.” He escaped out the door.

Escaped exactly described his exit.

Judith stood by the dry sink, unable to move for a moment. Then she walked to the chair by the table and sat. Why would writing a line to her father flummox her husband? What could be more natural or simple? Something more than natural reticence was at work here. She thought over the many letters he’d written her. It wasn’t that he couldn’t write a few lines. He didn’t want to. Why? Why did he avoid any mention of anything personal? What was wrong with her simple request? What was going on within her husband?

Feeling confused, she bowed her head and whispered, “Heavenly Father, something is not right. What is it? What should I do? Say? Should I confront Asa plainly?”

At the word confront, panic swept over her. The old pang twisted around her heart. She pictured again that day in 1861. Tom Southby had been going off to war, and she’d decided she couldn’t let him go without telling him how she felt. With a red face, Tom had thanked her for caring for him but said he couldn’t return the same to her. Once again she flushed with the heated humiliation over those horrible moments. He’d said they’d always been the best of friends and he wanted to leave it at that. Best of friends. She’d been in love with him since sixth grade. Yet it wasn’t Tom’s fault that she wasn’t pretty enough.

With effort, she mastered the old hurt and shame. Praying for guidance and peace, she sat for several minutes, hoping for something to occur to her. Then she recalled her late mother’s favorite verse, Isaiah 26:3. “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is steadfast because he trusts in You.”

One thing came clear. She was allowing Asa’s hesitance to reveal anything about himself to disturb her peace. And that was what she’d really come here to find—a husband and a peaceful life with him. She went over the past two days and the innocent questions she’d asked her new husband and his avoidance of replying to each one.

She recalled Mrs. Ashford’s favorable assessment of Asa’s character. “Lord, I feel I’ve married a good-intentioned man,” she murmured. “I sense nothing false about him. He doesn’t make up answers to suit my questions. That’s what a dishonest man would do. But why is talking about himself an issue for him?”

No answer came, but her tension eased. Heartened just a little, she straightened and slowly rose. She had chores to do and a life to live. “I’m not alone, Father. You are here with me, and I trust You. I would not have come here just to escape my contentious sister-in-law. You opened this door, and Emma and I walked through it. We both had peace about this decision. And now I’ve given my sacred pledge to Asa. No turning back.”

She picked up the sack of spices and looked for a place to store them. She continued her audible prayer. “And, Lord, help Emma find a place and a new beginning here. It’s too bad she’s not suited to teach.”

She drew herself up and began humming her mother’s favorite hymn, drawing strength from its words and hearing her mother’s voice in her memory. “Come thou fount of every blessing.” Judith had much to sing about—a husband and home of her own along with a beloved sister nearby and, as always, a faithful God—and finally work to do, a kitchen to organize.

Maybe she wasn’t a woman that a man would fall in love with, but she could take care of a house and be a helpmeet. She could hold up her end of the bargain she’d made with Asa. She could be a good wife. Experience had taught her that love was for pretty girls like Emma and even unlikable Mabel Joy, but not her.

Chapter Three

On the way to church on Sunday morning, Asa thought over the few days he’d been married. When he had rejoined her yesterday, Judith had not repeated her request that he write a note to her father. In the end he’d decided he must write a line in that letter or cause more questions. What were the odds that the woman he married would be someone he recognized? The memory of when they had seen each other in person over a decade ago came flooding back to him. He’d been elected captain of the Rock River Illinois Militia, and all the volunteers had gathered at the train station in Rockford to set off for war. Remembering how callow and naive he and the other militia volunteers had been expanded through him like hot grapeshot. They’d thought the war would end in weeks, not years.

As Asa drove down Main Street past all the shops closed for the Sabbath, his thoughts filled with the past.

That day in 1861, all the militia families had come to see their men off. Judith and Emma had been there in the crowd. Of course he hadn’t been introduced to Judith individually but to all the families of the Illinois militia. Later, however, her brother Gil had often showed him the tintype of his pretty twin sisters, a connection to home.

But obviously Judith didn’t remember seeing him that day, or the day when what was left of the militia had returned in ’65. Relief whistled through him once more.

Bringing him back to the present, the schoolhouse door came into view. Soon he halted his team and went around to Judith. She braced herself on his arms as he helped her down.

The soft expression on her face worked on him. He resisted the urge to pull her close. Instead he handed her the cloth-covered cake she’d baked for the after-church social. “I’ll take the horses to their area and then join you inside,” he said.

“Thank you, Asa.” Judith paused. “Where do you usually sit?”

Asa grinned, understanding that even in church, people claimed their places. “Near the back on the right.”

She smiled in return and walked over the packed snow to the school entrance. The door opened and a man’s voice called, “Welcome. Come in from the cold.”

Asa steered his team to the long hitching shelter. He had already blanketed his team before leaving home and had slipped on their blinders to block their interacting with the other teams of horses also tied under the roof.

He’d helped build this shelter himself last fall and had suggested the windbreaks on three sides. His team would be fine under cover and out of direct wind. He turned and walked resolutely toward the schoolhouse. He noted his wife had dressed with care for the Sunday service. Of course everyone would be watching them.

Getting married had disturbed his ordinary life, during which he’d kept everyone at arm’s length. It was all so confusing. And he must keep this new inner confusion over his unexpected attraction to his bride—to her thick, dark hair, pert nose and warm brown eyes—concealed behind an untroubled face.

* * *

Tense, Judith stepped inside the school, carrying her cake plate. Asa had told her that in the winter, everyone who wanted to brought a covered dish and stayed after services to eat and talk. So she’d baked a brown butter cake yesterday. Today would be the first time since their wedding that she and Asa had appeared together before the whole community. Though Emma liked attention, Judith did not. But now it would be unavoidable. She crafted a smile and put it in place. No one must see any division between Asa and her. Or it would invite speculation.

The worship service went smoothly, and then it was time for the potluck dinner. Within a very few moments, the men had set up folding tables and positioned the school benches around them. And after the deacon, Gordy Osbourne, said grace, the potluck began. Everyone filled their plates from a variety of fragrant bowls and platters.

Judith didn’t want to slight anybody, so she took a spoonful or piece of everything. With her plate full, she found herself and Asa sitting with the couple who had welcomed her at the door and another young couple, the blacksmith and his wife, Levi and Posey Comstock. Judith had hoped to sit near Emma, but her sister had stayed near the Ashfords.

Judith waved to her and Emma waved back, her expression one of suppressed excitement. What had happened to cause that? Had she gotten word that her intended husband, Mason Chandler, was returning?

Judith ate and replied to those who spoke to her, but primarily she listened in order to learn more about her new neighbors. Then, near the end of the meal, Mr. Ashford rose. “May I have your attention, please?”

Everyone fell silent and turned to look at the storekeeper.

“Many of you know but others may not be aware that we lost our teacher yesterday.”

A few startled gasps, and then the room swelled with upset murmuring.

Mr. Ashford held up his hand. “The school board has already met and has found a replacement so that school will go on.”

Judith then glimpsed her sister’s face. And she thought, Oh, no.

“Miss Emma Jones has consented to finish out the school year as interim teacher.”

Judith felt her jaw drop and quickly shut her mouth so no one would detect her hesitation over this development. Would Emma be able to curb her naturally lively personality enough to please the town?

“Miss Jones,” Ashford continued, “completed eleventh grade with honors and is of impeccable reputation. And we have stressed to her the importance of preparing our students to compete in the upcoming Third Annual Pepin Regional Spelling Bee in April.”

The murmurs switched from surprised dismay to approval, many heads were nodding and everyone was smiling at her sister. Judith forced herself to look pleased and approving. But the phrase from years ago played in her mind: “not having the serious temperament necessary in an educator of children.”

Had Emma forgotten? That didn’t seem likely. Judith tried to remember how Emma had reacted to that rejection. But it had happened in the midst of the war, and that conflagration had overshadowed everything else.

Should she say something to Emma? No. The matter had gone too far. And since the school year would no doubt end in May, perhaps all would be well. And after all, Emma was nearly a decade older than she’d been during her first attempt at becoming a teacher. She might not upset the school board with her liveliness.

Then Judith recalled Emma’s advice to her as they chugged into sight of Pepin a week ago: “embrace the adventure.” Well, Judith only hoped Emma’s latest adventure would turn out for the best. She didn’t want her sister’s feelings to be hurt.

Asa leaned close to her ear. “Something wrong?”

She turned to him and whispered, “No. I just wasn’t expecting this.” She would tell him what she really felt when they were alone.

He nodded and rested his hand over hers.

For that moment she forgot how to breathe. She tried to dismiss this and behave as though his touch had not affected her so. She looked to the front of this room where they had pledged themselves to each other. She recalled his gentle, chaste kiss and Asa’s whisper, “I’ll do right by you, Judith.” She trusted Asa, but the worry lingered. What wasn’t he trusting her with?

* * *

Late on the next day, Asa finished washing up at the dry sink and then took his seat at the table. Judith had prepared another deliciously fragrant meal for him. She was using up the last of the venison from the smokehouse in a stew. She set the pot in the center of the table. And then sat down across from him. The pleasure of the moment of having a pretty, cheerful woman here and the scent of well-prepared food flooded him. Caution leaped up inside him like a wall, a fortress around his feelings. He couldn’t afford this softening. He couldn’t let down his guard or all the regret might unman him. He didn’t want anyone to know about his war record. If he did, the talk would begin. And no one would let him live in peace.

She bowed her head, waiting for him to say grace. Then, with effort, he voiced his usual grace without betraying his anxiety and looked up to watch her dish up his plate first.

Judith paused and pursed her lips. “Emma is very bright and very good. But sometimes her high spirits can carry her away.”

He wondered what she was leading up to.

She sighed and then looked across at him. “I hope her high spirits don’t upset the school board.”

Hearing the concern in her voice and not knowing what he could do, he shrugged. Then a thought came. “What everyone is really most concerned about is that she prepare the students for the big spelling bee in April. If she does that right, I don’t think they’ll care about her high spirits.”

Judith gazed at him. Then, reaching across the table, she touched his hand. “Thank you. I know I’m only four minutes older than her, but in temperament, I am the older sister. And I worry about her sometimes.”

She glanced downward. “Asa, I’d like to invite the Ashfords and Emma for dinner someday. But there are a few things that I’d need to buy for the house before we have company.” Still not meeting his gaze, she raised a hand. “Nothing extravagant. I need fabric to make window curtains and dishcloths. I’d like to buy a set of dishes, not china, just sturdy everyday dishes.” She glanced up then, looking uncertain.

He looked down at the dented tin plates and mugs he’d always used. Of course a woman would want better than this. “Sorry,” he said, his voice coming back. “I should have discussed our finances with you. You buy whatever you need.”

He cleared his throat. “Our fields will provide most of our food. I hunt in the fall. And in the winter, I work with leather. The blacksmith keeps those belts and harnesses and sells them for me.” He rose and went to the hearth. “Come here.”

She obeyed him.

He showed her the loose stone that hid a cavity in the side of the fireplace and the small cloth sack of gold and silver coins stashed there. “We have plenty, Judith. Just tell Mr. Ashford to put everything on our tab. I pay him once a month.”

“Thank you, Asa. I’m not an extravagant woman, but I do want to—” she waved a hand toward the room “—make everything more homey.”

He returned to his place at the table, and she followed him.

“I want you to...do that, too,” he said. But you’ve done so much more. The chain around his heart tightened. If only he had more than a house and sustenance to offer her. Judith deserved the best. But he would give her the best he could of the material world. The pity was that he could not give her more of his true self, his empty heart.

* * *

The thaw had started. All around, Judith heard the sound of water trickling and dripping from the roof and the rivulets that ran down the trail toward town. She hummed as she finished setting the table for six. Her first dinner party would be today. The Ashfords and Emma were coming for supper. The cabin door and both windows stood open to let in the breath of spring. This would be her debut as the mistress of her own home, inviting others to a meal.

She’d planned the supper carefully. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, tender dandelion greens salad, her mother’s cloverleaf rolls and cherry pie for dessert. She glanced toward the window, where the two dishcloth-covered pies were cooling on the sill.

Then, glancing at the clock, she took the last of the chicken out of the skillet, spitting hot and golden. She set it on the pan in the warming oven. Then she went out to the springhouse to get the cream to whip up for the pie.

She heard the voices of people walking up the trail. She quickly retrieved the cream from this morning’s milking and hurried toward the house.

“Judith!” Her sister’s happy voice carried to her.

“Emma!” Judith replied and then hurried inside to change into her clean apron for the final preparations.

As she walked in, Asa stepped out of the bedroom, where he dressed. He looked very handsome in a blue-and-white-striped shirt she’d pressed this morning. He was freshly shaved and his hair was neat. She stood rooted to the spot. She had married a handsome man. Once again the sensation of recognition trickled through her and then vanished.

Emma reached the door first. “Sister!”

Setting down the pot of cream, Judith swung around and welcomed her sister with a quick hug for her first visit there. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me, too,” Emma replied, sniffing the air. “Your fried chicken?”