Frontier Want Ad Bride. Lyn Cote

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ