He stares out across the quiet expanse of the farm. All this built with sweat and blood, not all of it his own. He took out the last letter and opened it reading it again.
Dear Hudson,
My train leaves in a week. By the time you receive this I shall be almost in Salem. How exciting it is to think we will finally meet face to face. I do hope my tintype enclosed in my previous letter was to your liking...
He folds it away and put it back in his pocket. That was a month ago and today is the day. He'd pick her up from the newspaper office and then they'd be married in the church before heading home. He almost couldn't believe he was doing this again. Third time's the charm. Taking off his stetson to rake his fingers back through his hair he waited outside the office. The sun was full and up with people bustling around the small town.
"Mornin' Hudson," the newspaper man says unlocking the office. "Waiting on a package?"
"You could say that."
"Oh I see, the new Missus to arrive today is she?" He nods wiping sweaty hands on his denims. "Ought to pop over to the livery to get her some flowers, some ribbon. Token of your affection you know." Hudson quirks an eyebrow. "Opens up around now and I dare say you've got the time," he says checking a pocket watch. "Stage won't arrive for another hour at least."
"Suppose a gander will help pass the time," he says getting to his feet. The boards on the walk bounce and ring hollow under the heels on his boots.
A bell tings overhead as he opens the door. Instantly twenty different smells waft around him. Leather, brine, gunpowder, sugar, flowers, perfumes. Walking into Owen's Livery and Supply was like walking into a candy store. Every shelf is crammed with tools, dishes, fabrics hanging off great rolls against one wall. Papers, pens, arts and schooling supplies. Leather belts, buckles, buttons and more clothing and denim down another aisle. From the ceiling beams hang blankets, bits of machinery, shovels and other oddities.
"Hallo! Oh hello there Hudson, don't expect to see you in town this time of year," says a short thin woman with a smile too large for her face.
"Mrs. Owens," he replies tipping his hat. "Came to fetch a few things."
"Such as?"
"My wife." The women puts her hand to her chest in shock. "Comin' in on the stage this morning."
"Oh I thought for a second - nevermind. A new wife, that's wonderful," she says smiling leaning across the counter. "The children must be pleased." They were actually anything but.
"Yes ma'am."
When he'd told them about a new mother coming they started shouting, retreated into stony silence or started crying from all the racket.
"And where is this new wife from?"
"Albany, New York State."
"My, quite far. Long way to travel."
"Yes ma'am."
"Anything in particular you were looking for Hudson?"
Dark eyes searched behind the counter. "Paperman said I'd be able to find flowers here."
"Yes, we do but they're in the garden out back if you'll just follow me," she says lifting the counter for him. "It was one of my ideas naturally, taking the flower seeds from back east and growing them a bit in pots here before selling them. Makes them withstand the trip better, then you can plant them in a garden at home. Any idea what kind of flower she likes?"
None. She looks back at him and laughs before opening the back door and ushering him into a small plot.
"Over here's the roses, just red and pink I'm afraid. And oh the morning glories over here. Have you ever seen morning glories Hudson?"
He shakes his head. "Oh they're most beautiful blue and purple, a lovely vine plant for climbing up the side of a house. And these hollyhocks, such a lovely colour, like Spanish wine," she says holding the bloom up. "And just because it's your first day meeting I'll give you the third free for buying two."
"Oh Mrs. Owens-."
"Please I insist Hudson. "I'll just dig these up for you, if you need to look around the store for anything else." She shoos him back into the store. He leans against the counter for a minute.
What am I doing? I never bought flowers for Mary or Elizabeth. He's just about to tell her to never mind when she comes back. "Nothing else? Have you seen the new leather and fabric we got in? That new wife might want some fabric for curtain making and clothes for the children."
By the time he escaped Hudson had been armed into buying fabric, tea for a fancy eastern wife because they surely don't drink coffee in New York..."
Ten o'clock comes and goes and so does eleven. Hudson's stomach starts to rumble something awful when the yapping of dogs alerted an arrival. Finally, and the first order of business will be lunch. He'd brought enough for a meal at the Salem Inn. The dust begins to kick up and he pulls his bandana up over his mouth and nose. Wagon after wagon rolls on by, likely headed for Portland or further north into Washington Territory. A few pull off onto a grassy undeveloped patch beside the postal office. Was his future bride inside one of them? More wagons pass and only a few more pull over. Taking his hat off and raking fingers back through his hair he rises and meanders over.
Most wagons contained families, children spilling hell nell out the backs and front. A few men he recognizes as bachelors or widowers hang around all of them waiting on the same thing. A woman steps out of one, then another and another. Their bonnets block their faces from view. Craning his neck Hudson tries to get a look. Nope, none of them look like her. He takes out the tintype and gives it another look over. He knows how she looks, dark hair done up, dark eyes, hint of a smile at her lips. Fairly plain but she had the qualifications he needed.
Hudson didn't need a lover or even a companion. This was about finding someone to help on the farm and raise his children. Lord knew he'd been trying to do it with only three hired hands and his older kids long enough. He needed a cook, a stout worker and a woman that would stand by him and his family. More wagons pull up and he leans against a post watching the people unload out of them. Perhaps he should call her name? Or ask one of the other women if they'd travelled with her? Hudson takes off his hat and combs back his hair. Should have gotten it cut before meeting her.
"Excuse me ma'am, you happen to travel here with a Lavinia?"
"No, I can't say I've heard the name," a blue bonneted woman says.
"Thank you," he says tipping his hat.
Retreating back to his post Hudson holds the tintype in his hand keeping it ready to compare to the host of faces before him.
Maybe she hasn't come. The thought creeps in like a drifting fog. Maybe she took the money and cashed the ticket for somewhere else. Swindled right out of his money and lord knows he wouldn't get it back. He'd been wrong to let the ad convince him, it couldn't be this easy, just sign up with your local newspaper for a new wife. What a load of crock. He'd wait here until dinner time and not a minute longer.
Grabbing a hunk of bread from the wagon and a lump of smoked ham he sits on the steps for a wait. He's so lulled by the hot sun and busy activity in front of him he falls into a trance like state chin in hand. He's startled by a gloved hand tapping him on the shoulder.
"Excuse me but are you Mr. MacTavish?" He takes off his hat quickly rising to his feet at the woman before him. Small and petite with hair not quite blond and not quite red.
"I am." She held out a delicate white gloved hand.
"Pleased to meet you I'm Florence Farling." He takes the hand and shakes it noticing it feels as a small as a child's in his. He stands dumbstruck for a moment.
"Did you travel here with a Lavinia Farling?" She pulls back.
"No, I didn't. Didn't you receive my letter?"
He shakes his head.
"Oh dear. Lavinia died of scarlet fever before she could leave. I found her letters to you, the money and ticket so I came in her stead."
"You. Came," he repeats slowly. Oh no. Oh no, no. This was not going to work at all. This slip of a girl? She wouldn't last a year out here. He could probably span her waist with his hands. Hudson takes off his hat and rakes his fingers through his hair. My God what have I gotten myself into?
