Mail Order Bride

She smiled, the first real smile I'd seen on her face. "I see. A carrying frame. You mean to carry both of our bags?"

"I do, and more easily than before. Shall we go on, Elizabeth Mackenzie?"

"Yes, Alistair James Mackenzie, we shall."

"I think just James, or Jim, lass. Alistair James is too formal, too much of a mouthful." I grinned. "Especially from my wife."

She smiled back at me, and it was a true smile. "Very well - Jim - and you must call me Libby."

"Libby it is, Libby! On we go."

We set off again, Libby striding easily beside me. I hadn't really appreciated how tall she was until now, only three or four inches less than me. She was slender, too, and I wondered about the body hidden underneath her clothes. That she was a woman was unmistakable, for there were curves on her that I ain't ever seen on a man, but her clothes were comfortable, loose, intended for walking, not to show her off, and I could only guess. I reckoned I'd find out soon enough, and I was lookin' forward to the discovery.

The sun had disappeared behind the hills when we reached the stream, but there was still enough light to find the spot Tom Harrison had suggested. Charred stones formed a fireplace, and the little clearing was sheltered by trees and scrub. Hearing splashing in the stream had given me an idea and I cut yet another sapling and whittled a point on one end. I'd seen fish jump to take the flies as we'd moved away from the trail and I thought mebbe I could catch me a couple for our supper. I took off my boots and rolled my trouser legs to the knee.

Libby touched my arm to catch my attention. "Have you flint and steel, Jim? We'll need something to cook them if you catch them."

I nodded. "Aye, Libby. In the pocket of my pack. No, the other side. That's it." I waited a moment but Libby seemed skilled with flint and steel so I went across to the stream. I studied it a moment in the fading light. There was an eddy which seemed promising and I stepped into the water. Cold, probably straight off the mountains, and I hoped I wouldn't be there long. I stood motionless in the eddy, waiting. Yes, there was one! Straight down with my makeshift spear, a flick, and supper, or part of it, was flapping in the grass. A few moments more, and another. Grinning to myself, I cleaned and gutted my catch and took our supper back to where Libby had a fire going.

She smiled to see the fish I'd caught. "How shall we cook them?"

"There's clay on the river bank, and wild onion. We'll bake them in clay, on the coals, when the fire dies a little."

And we did. Delicious, the wild onion adding flavor and I had salt in my pack for savor. Finished, Libby did what little cleaning there was. It was dark now and I'd sensed a growing strain in Libby as the evening wore on. I thought I knew what it was, and I reached out to take her hand.

"Libby, wife?" I said, enjoying the feel of her hand in mine; enjoying too the return clasp of her own fingers.

"Yes?" she said, and I sensed hesitancy in her.

"Something troubles you, and I think I know what it is."

"You do?"

"Aye, I do. I think 'tis the marriage bed that troubles you, no?"

"No!" She paused, and then nodded, a wry smile on her face. "Yes. A little. I'm scared. Scared it will hurt."

Just what I reckoned, I thought, not surprised, but I knew that I had to take our relationship slow and easy, while we grew to know each other. I very much never wanted to see the fear on her face from any action of mine that I'd seen on her from Calloway's. I wanted her to accept me, to want my touch. I might be quick to anger, I thought, reflecting ruefully on my red hair, but I knew I had the patience to wait when it mattered.

"Libby, you're my wife," I said, keeping my voice soft, no urgency in it, "and a wife's place is in her husband's bed at nights, but today has been a strange day, for it was not me that you expected to be sharing that bed tonight. We'll wait; wait until we have our home, until you're ready. I will not rush you, I promise."

"You'd do that?" she said, and I could hear the surprise in her tone. Aye, and the relief, too.

"Aye, Libby, for you I'll do that." I laughed. "But I fear we must share the blankets tonight, else we'll be cold."

Libby giggled, surprising me, but pleasing me, too. "I think I can stand that, husband." She stood. "Excuse me a moment. I won't be long."

About to ask her where she was going, I stopped myself, just in time. There are some things a newly married couple are not ready for sharing, and attending to the needs of nature is one of them. I laughed to myself, amused, a little embarrassed. Getting used to being married might take a little longer than I'd expected, I thought.

It wasn't long before Libby came back, flushing as she caught my eye, but I pretended not to notice and we wrapped ourselves in the blankets. Libby had discarded her bonnet and her hair was loose, curling around her shoulders, dark in the moonlight, the muted red in the dark brown lost in the faint light. I fought the urge to bury my fingers in it, to rub my face over it. In the light of the moon that had now risen I realized my wife was beautiful. She hesitated, and then stretched across to kiss me, soft, light, too brief, but her lips were warm on mine.

"Goodnight, Jim, my husband," she said softly. "And thank you, for giving me a direction in life."

"Goodnight, Libby. I think our way coincides. Sleep well."

She turned her back and inched back toward me, and I drew the blankets over us, careful to keep my hands to myself, resisting the urge to caress her. I fell asleep pondering on the way life sometimes takes us by surprise, falling asleep next to a wife I had never for a moment expected to even have, only that morning.

The sun woke me as it lifted behind us. We were cozy in the blankets and I realized I had my arm around Libby, and she'd snuggled close against me in the chill of the night. Startled, I realized I was cupping the soft weight of her breast. Even more startled, I realized her hand was covering mine. Gingerly, I eased my hand away, trying not to wake her, but she stirred, wriggling over to face me, a flush on her face but no protest on her lips.

I smiled, just for the simple pleasure of seeing her next to me. "Good morning, wife."

"Good morning, husband." She stretched across and kissed me, just a light buss, and smiled back at me. "Did you sleep well?"

I laughed in simple pleasure. A wife's kiss is a pleasant thing of a morn. "I must have done, for I remember nothing after we settled last night, until now. You?"

"Aye, the best night's sleep I've had for a long time." She wriggled around, and sat up, reaching for her shoe, to put it on. I touched her arm and she looked at me.

"Shake it out first. Make sure you're not playing host to anything." Smiling, she turned her shoe upside down and shook it, and a beetle fell out. Startled, she looked at me and I smiled. "Elsewhere, that might have been a scorpion."

"I shall remember in the future. Thank you." She shook her other shoe out, nothing this time, put them on and stood. "Excuse me while I wash."

I caught another couple of fish for breakfast and we ate, then made our way back to the ford, waiting for Tom and Emma. I think we were both excited at the thought of seeing our new home, but not yet at ease enough with each other to share the excitement. We chatted, mainly about background and family, learning about each other, and I discovered my new wife's father had been a teacher, and that she not only knew how to read and write, as did I, but also understood algebra and geometry and spoke some French.

"I'm impressed, Libby. You could be a teacher yourself."

She nodded, thoughtful. "I've thought about it, but when mama died, a year after papa, I lost heart. I know I'm not exactly ugly, but the only men that took any interest in me already had wives and children of their own. It was only when I saw the advertisement that Joe Helson and his friends placed in the newspaper, well, I thought, perhaps a new beginning. As a wife, rather than a teacher. I don't even know if there are any children to teach around these parts."

I laughed. "There are ten brand new wives around these parts. Might well be some children in a year or two."

Libby laughed too, but she avoided my eye and there was color in her cheeks. I didn't say anything, just stood to look down the trail again. This time I saw movement and it wasn't long before Tom was drawing his team to a halt at the ford, letting the two horses drink. He locked the brake and stepped down, giving his hand to Emma to help her down. There was a glow about her and a quietly pleased look on Tom's face and I guessed their first night as man and wife had been a good one.

"Good morning, Tom," I said. "I'd offer you coffee, except we haven't got any. It was only when we camped last night that I came to my senses and realized we were heading off without supplies."

Tom grinned. "That's what I reckoned this morning. I wasn't thinkin' straight last night, either." He winked and I figured maybe he thought that Libby and I had gone off to be alone together. I shrugged and he laughed. "I got extra. You owe me three dollars. It's in the wagon. Something else, too. I found an old anvil. Want to look?"

"Yes!"

He led me around to the back of the wagon and dropped the gate. The anvil was old, rusty, but just like the one I'd been used to back east. I looked across at his smiling face. "What do I owe you for that, Tom?"

"That's a trade. I need to get some tree stumps out of the ground, and I figured we could do it together while our ladies get better acquainted." He held his hand out. "Deal?"

I took his hand. "Deal!"

"There's another thing, Jim."

"Yes?"

"Joe left a will. The Reverend had it. He showed it to me this morning, I guess he was wondering about you, but I told him you were straight and he showed me the will. Joe left his place and everything to Elizabeth. Anticipating her being his wife, I suppose. I guess, as her husband, it's yours now."

I shook my head. "No, it's Libby's." I looked across at my wife of less than twenty-four hours and she glanced up. "Come here a moment, please, Libby."

Libby and Emma came over to us. "Yes, Jim?"

"Tom just told me. Joe left his place to you. The Reverend had the will. I don't know why he didn't say anything last night."

"He probably wanted to make sure Libby had a decent husband to protect her, first," said Emma. "There are bad men around, everywhere." Her tone was light, but there was an undertone that suggested she'd come across those bad men.

"Happen so," I said, "but as far as I'm concerned, the place is Libby's."

"Ours," said Libby, firmly, holding up her hand to stop me speaking. "Ours," she repeated, holding my eyes with hers, her voice soft, but there was something in it, some quality, that told me Libby was determined and ready to do her bit in making our impulsive marriage work.

I nodded, accepting. "Ours."

"Let's get on, then," said Tom, "so you can see your new place. Joe had a wagon and team. The wagon's on his place, but I have the team. I'll bring them along tomorrow morning."

"Whoa, Tom. Didn't you say you had some stumps to pull?"

"Yep, that's right. Got an idea?"

"Got any pulleys? Tackle blocks?"

Tom nodded. "Two. And plenty of rope."

"Dig the roots out, far as we can, cut the ones we can't. With those blocks, and two teams, we can get them out. I'll walk along after breakfast tomorrow, and then I can bring the team back with me. Make sense?"

Tom nodded. "Aye, lad, it does. Come on, we'd better be going." He paused, glancing across at the wagon. "There's only room for three on the seat."

"Take Elizabeth. I'll walk, I'm used to it."

"Ride in the wagon bed? It'll be rough, but it saves your feet."

"Thanks, I will. How long before we get there?"

Tom pulled a huge old pocket watch out. "Almost ten now, we should be there easy by noon. It's about a two, two and a half hour trip from town with a team. Half that on a saddle horse." He grinned. "Which I haven't got anyway."

He helped me put our bags into the back, and I climbed in after them after I'd helped Emma and Libby up onto the seat. The women were talking quietly, Tom was busy with the team and I just looked around me.

Rolling country, trees, a lot of trees, so I could see why Tom might have stumps to clear, plenty of water. The soil looked rich and dark, and I could see why farmers would be attracted to the area.

Okay, if that was what it needed, then I'd be a blacksmith-farmer. I could shoe horses, make nails, hinges, door-latches, mend ploughs. Heck, I could make a plough, given the material. If Tom was right, and a blacksmith was needed, one of my first jobs would be to build myself a forge and some bellows. I smiled to myself, pleased. It seemed my being a blacksmith would make me a useful member of the community.

Marrying Libby had been impulse, pure and simple, but I couldn't see any snags. At least, not yet, I couldn't.

It was just after noon when Tom drew the wagon to a halt. He pointed to a rise, maybe seventy yards from the trail. "See there? In among them trees? You can just see the roof. That's the cabin, what there is of it. Joe hadn't time to finish it."

"We'll finish it," said Libby, and I could hear the determination in her tone. Yes, and the pride, too. "My husband's a blacksmith, and neither of us is afraid of hard work." She smiled at Tom and Emma. "And we have good neighbors."

"Let's get your stuff unloaded, and we'll leave you in peace," said Tom.

It didn't take long, but when they drove off with a 'see you tomorrow' wave, we had enough staples for a while. Bacon, jerky, molasses, flour, some dried apples, a bag of potatoes, carrots, cooking fat, oil for lamps, some coffee. The cabin yielded two oil lamps, a couple of big pots, a frying-pan, and enough cutlery for us.

The cabin was a shell. A central walkway, with a room on either side. One room obviously intended as a living room, with a cast-iron cooking range, a table, a couple of chairs. Home-made, but with care and some skill that I could appreciate. The other room was obviously the bedroom. No bed or dresser, not yet, but some pegs on the walls and, on the dirt floor, on a tarpaulin, a mattress covered with a bright patchwork cover. Libby gazed at it in silence for a long, long moment, and then turned to me with a bright, brittle smile.

"We need to get that stove going, if I'm going to make us some bread."

"There looked to be plenty of wood in the lean-to. I'll get it started."

The bed had looked inviting, but I had the feeling we wouldn't be sharing it during the coming night. Libby hadn't said so, not in so many words, but I could tell she was nervous.

We spent the afternoon getting to know our new home. Exploring outside, I could see where Joe had dammed a stream so that he could divert water. I looked across to the cabin. With a flume and some piping, assuming I could lay my hands on some, I could give Libby piped water right to the house. A little further downstream, a hot spring flowed into the main stream. I wondered about that, but there were some old lava flows not far away, as I found out later, and I reasoned that could explain the hot spring. I tested the water with my hand and examined the lay of the land. Hmm, with a little excavation and some strategically placed rocks, I could turn it into a swimming hole. A warm, or almost warm, one, at that.

But there were Tom's stumps to be got out first, and my forge to build.

Libby had been doing her own exploring while I'd been investigating the stream and she took me behind the cabin to show me when I returned.

"See," she said. "Joe had started a vegetable garden. I found his seeds, so I knew it had to be out here somewhere. He had some seed potatoes, too. It needs digging over, then I can start planting."

I laughed, seeing the packed earth where she'd indicated. "It needs more than digging, lass, it needs ploughing. And maybe a pickaxe first, to break the soil. I think I know enough to make a wooden plough. Once I have a forge started I can put an iron edge on the plough blade."

Libby took my arm, laying her head against my shoulder. "I think we'll be happy here."

"If good will and good neighbors make the difference, then we will," I said. I looked down at her face, bright-eyed, flushed. I bent quickly and kissed her brow.

She pulled my head down and gave me a quick, light kiss on the lips, then spun away toward the kitchen. "Get washed. Dinner in ten minutes."

A simple meal. Bacon, fried potatoes, hot biscuits, fresh bread. And coffee. Hot, black coffee. Finished, I pushed my plate away and sat back. "Looks like I married myself a great cook," I said.

Libby smiled. "I would say competent rather than great. I like cooking."

"I like eating," I responded with a grin.

She laughed. "I could tell." She looked around. "We need some armchairs, or a couch. Kitchen chairs are fine, but not for sitting after dinner, before it's time for bed."

"We need a bed, too."

She glanced at me, flushing, looking away, and I reached for her hand. "I told you, Libby, I will not push you into intimacy. You will let me know when you're ready to be a wife to me. I'm a patient man."

"You are, Jim, you are. Soon, I hope. Emma..." She broke off.

"What about Emma?"

"She told me she enjoys Tom's touch. She asked me if I enjoyed yours. I lied to her, Jim. I told her yes, when I don't know yet. It will be soon, husband, soon."

"That's good enough for me, wife. It's night and I have to be at Tom's early, to help him with the stumps, so shall we settle for the night? You take the bedroom, and I'll bed down here, beside the fire. I think I may have the better of it. The fireplace next door still needs finishing."

"Time yet, 'tis but June." She stood, and came over to me. "Goodnight, Jim."

"Goodnight, Libby." I bent to kiss her and she moved easily into my arms, her lips coming up to mine. I think she meant only a light peck of the sort we'd been sharing, but this kiss was longer, and I let my tongue tip trace her mouth. Her lips parted and suddenly the kiss was hot, strong, our mouths moving. Libby stiffened suddenly and broke away, staring at me, breathing quickly.

"I--," she began, then shook her head. "Goodnight, Jim," she said, and she was away, into the other room. I stared after her, shook my head and prepared myself for sleep. I hoped, I sincerely hoped, that our kiss was just the first of many like it, for even with my limited experience, I knew that the kiss of a woman who wants you carries a magic to a man's soul. I sighed. It will come, James Mackenzie, it will come. Give her time.

I had a bedroll made up on the floor, and I blew out the lamp, stripped off my clothes, and settled myself for sleep. I couldn't sleep. I lay for ages, wondering when my wife would be brave enough to share my bed. I thought I knew enough not to force her, because that would only cause resentment, but wondered whether I should insist. I laughed to myself, wry. Hell, it was only our second night, and adjustment to each other would take time.

Whether I fell asleep or not, whether a noise woke me, I wasn't sure, but suddenly I was wide awake, startled. I rolled over, and Libby was there, the glow from the dying stove a gleam in her eyes, her nightdress a ghost-white shape in the night.

"Jim?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper, so that I had to strain to hear her.

"Aye, lass? Is something amiss? Are you unwell? Is everything all right?"

I heard the hiss of her indrawn breath, and when she spoke her voice was tense.

"No, Jim, it's not. It's not right that I should be alone in the bed, and you here. We are man and wife and my husband should be in my bed."