Lyn Cote - Suddenly A Frontier Father

People had stared at them ever since he’d boarded the boat in Illinois. He might as well get used to it. He had no doubt that some of his once-friendly neighbors here in Pepin, Wisconsin, would be shocked and then no doubt cool toward him. What about Miss Jones, the woman who’d answered his newspaper advertisement for a wife?

After corresponding with her for months, he’d proposed to her by letter earlier this year. But he’d been called away to his father’s deathbed and could not be in Pepin in March to marry her as they’d planned. Now it was September. He was six months too late. And his circumstances had changed so dramatically that he had sent her a letter months ago releasing her from their agreement. What else could an honorable man do?

He could only hope that he would have time to get settled in again before he finally met Miss Emma Jones. He hoped to be able to mend the situation. But it was a faint hope. So much had changed.

Well, this wasn’t the first time in his life he’d swum against the current. He placed one arm around each little girl. These two little ones were his now, and he wouldn’t let them down, no matter what.

The crew suddenly began calling to each other and hurrying around, casting the ropes ashore, jumping onto the pier. The steamboat slowed, glided on the sky-blue water and bumped against the dock. Mason picked up his satchel and the small valise that belonged to the girls. And soon they were walking onto the Wisconsin shore.

Though his life had changed, the town looked much the same as it had when he’d left in March. There was a blacksmith, Ashford’s General Store, and a few other stores on Main Street, along with a saloon at the end of town. Now, in early autumn, the street was dusty and the trees were still green, though scarlet edged a few high maple leaves. The blacksmith’s hammer on the anvil pounded clear in the afternoon air.

The little girls huddled close to him. He caught himself as he began to stride normally, and instead he shortened his steps. Before going to his cabin, he needed to buy a few necessary items at the general store but dreaded facing the inquisitive, talkative Mrs. Ashford. Why put it off, though? He led the little girls across the street and up the two steps to the store.

Plump and grandmotherly, Mrs. Ashford met him on the porch. “Mr. Chandler, you’re back.”

“Yes, ma’am. I need—”

“And who are these little girls?”

He was saved from replying when the woman looked over his shoulder and exclaimed, “Miss Jones! Here is your intended, Mason Chandler. He’s come home at last!”

Mason turned. His heart was thumping suddenly and his mouth dry. Miss Emma Jones, the woman he’d hoped to marry, halted just a few paces in front of him. He drank in her appearance. Tall but not too tall. A trim figure. Bright golden curls atop a face so lovely he thought he might be dreaming. Miss Emma Jones was a beauty. His hope of winning her favor bumped down another notch.

Mason shook himself mentally and, after setting down the baggage, descended the two steps again. He bowed politely. “Miss Jones, I’m happy to meet you face-to-face at long last.” An understatement.

“Mr. Chandler.” Her voice devoid of welcome, she offered her gloved hand.

He shook it and held it in both of his. Neither her words nor tone encouraged him. “I apologize again,” he said, forcing out the words, “for my not being here to meet you in March. I’m afraid I had little choice. Still, I wish things were different.”

“The arrangement you made for me to stay with the Ashfords worked out well. They made me very welcome.” She paused to smile at Mrs. Ashford. “I’m sorry about the loss of your father.” She withdrew her hand from his.

He felt his neck heat with embarrassment for holding her hand too long.

“I was just asking Mr. Chandler,” Mrs. Ashford interrupted, “who these little girls are.”

At this moment, Charlotte spoke to Birdie with her hands, as was her way. Birdie replied in kind.

“What’s that they are doing with their hands?” Mrs. Ashford asked.

Mason replied, “This is Charlotte, my little half-sister, and her friend Birdie. Charlotte cannot hear. They speak in sign language.”

“She’s deaf?” Mrs. Ashford’s voice fell. “Oh, the poor little thing. What a judgment.”

“A judgment?” Miss Jones challenged her. “What could a little child have done to deserve being judged?”

Mason looked at his once-intended bride. She’d said what he’d wanted to.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Mrs. Ashford apologized. “I’m just sad for the child.” Then the woman looked worried. “How long will your sister and her little friend be visiting here with you?”

“I have adopted both girls,” Mason said, bracing himself for the backlash, not looking toward Miss Jones.

Mrs. Ashford’s face widened in shock. “How can you take care of two little girls all by yourself?” Before he could answer, she turned to Miss Jones. “You two will have to get married right away.”

He couldn’t help himself. With a quick glance, he sought Miss Jones’s reaction.

She looked as if someone had slapped her.

Mason had not expected her to be pleased with the change in his circumstances, and it was worse to find out here in such a public place where they couldn’t talk this through. He closed his eyes in defeat.

“Mrs. Ashford,” Miss Jones began, “Mr. Chandler has just returned—”

“Aren’t you going to go through with your engagement?” Mrs. Ashford asked.

Here, right here on Main Street—was this where Miss Jones would let him down?

At that moment he heard someone approaching. He turned and saw Levi Comstock, the burly blacksmith and his good friend, coming. Or, he had been a good friend. Would he remain so?

Still in his leather apron and with his soot-blackened face, Levi held out his hand. “Good to see you back. Asa’s still got your cow and—also a new heifer—”

“A heifer?” Mason asked with surprise.

“Yes, your cow had a nice little calf in the spring.”

Mason couldn’t speak. Such good news.

“And those two and your chickens are all in good order with Asa. I still have your horses and wagon at my place. When would you like to come get them?”

In reply to all this warm welcome and news, Mason clasped Levi’s large, strong hand and shook it heartily.

“Well, Mr. Chandler,” Miss Jones spoke up, “I am happy to have met you and I will see you again soon, I’m sure.”

“But Miss Jones,” Mrs. Ashford spoke up, “you’re on your way to your sister’s home today, aren’t you? Mr. Chandler’s homestead is just up the road from there. You two might as well keep each other company on your way. You can bring Mr. Chandler up to date about all that’s happened in our little town while he was away.”

Mason did not appreciate the storekeeper’s wife’s suggestion. The last thing he wanted was to “keep each other company.” And it was more than obvious that Miss Jones didn’t want to, either. But what could they do here on Main Street but comply?

* * *

Emma literally clamped her teeth on her tongue, holding back a sharp retort. She wanted to get away from Mason Chandler. Coming upon him without warning had jumbled her thoughts and emotions in a way she had not expected. But what could she say to Mrs. Ashford? She could not be rude on the main street of town. “Of course,” she said politely.

Mason appeared uncomfortable, too.

She liked him better for that.

“You’re pretty,” one of the little girls said, looking up at her with big brown eyes and chubby brown cheeks.

Emma wished once again that people wouldn’t point out her outward appearance. She knew that they meant it in a complimentary way. But she was more than just a pretty face. However, saying this would not be polite, so she merely smiled at the little girl.