Dallas Schulze - Short Straw Bride

“I’m hardly statuesque, either.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that good things come in small packages?” Letty stirred her tea and fixed her friend with a stern look. “You’ve lived with that harpy of an aunt and that nasty little cousin of yours too long.”

“I haven’t had much choice,” Eleanor muttered. She took a sip of tea, savoring the rich flavor of it. When Aunt Dorinda made tea she always skimped on the tea leaves, turning out a watery brew more reminiscent of dishwater than a beverage.

Good tea was only one of the many pleasures she took in visiting Letty Sinclair. Letty was her dearest friend. She’d moved to Black Dog three years before to take care of an elderly uncle. When her uncle passed away, leaving her a small house and a comfortable inheritance, Letty had stayed on. There were those who were scandalized by the idea of an attractive young woman living alone, but the fact that Letty Sinclair could always be counted on to donate both time and money to any worthy cause kept the whispers to a minimum.

She was a widow, after all, the ladies of the town comforted themselves. Though she was young, it wasn’t as if she were a single girl living alone. Letty’s husband had drowned when the wagon he was driving overturned in the midst of a river he’d been trying to ford. A widow at twenty, Letty had welcomed the opportunity to leave Ohio and all its painful memories behind and move west to care for her great-uncle Lazarus.

Letty and Eleanor had met at church and become fast friends almost immediately. Letty was the one person in Eleanor’s life with whom she felt completely at ease, the one person with whom she could share her dreams and her fears.

“I’ve decided to marry Andrew Webb,” Eleanor announced abruptly.

“What on earth for?” Letty set her teacup down and frowned at her friend.

“Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as Aunt Dorinda’s unpaid housekeeper.”

“You don’t have to marry Andrew Webb just to avoid that. I’ve already told you that you could come live with me. We’d have such fun, Ellie. You know we would.”

“You know as well as I do that it would never do.”

“I don’t know any such thing.” Letty’s fine brows drew together and her soft mouth set in a stubborn line. “I have a spare bedroom just sitting empty. And if it would soothe that annoying pride of yours, I could even hire you as my housekeeper. Since there’s not much house to keep, we’d have plenty of time to enjoy ourselves.”

But Eleanor was already shaking her head. “Can you imagine what people would say about two young women living alone together?”

“I’m a widow. How could anyone complain if I choose to hire a companion?”

“A companion even younger than you are?” Eleanor asked, raising her brows.

“I ought to be able to have any companion I want,” Letty said stubbornly. She caught Eleanor’s eyes and sighed. “Oh, all right. You’re right and I’m wrong. But I don’t have to like it.”

“I thank you for the offer.” Eleanor smiled at Letty’s disgruntled look.

“Even if you can’t come stay with me, I don’t want you to marry Andrew Webb just to get away from your aunt and uncle,” Letty said after a moment.

“I don’t see that I have much choice. I’ve no skills with which to earn my own living. He seems like a kind man and his children need a mother.” Even to her own ears, Eleanor sounded less than excited and she forced a false note of enthusiasm into her voice. “I’ve always wanted children of my own, you know.”

“That’s an altogether different thing from gaining a husband and four children all in the same day and not knowing any of them any better than you do some stranger just arrived on the train from St. Louis.”

“They’re not exactly strangers,” Eleanor protested.

“What are the children’s names?”

Letty’s unexpected demand left Eleanor momentarily speechless. “The oldest girl is Elizabeth, and the boys are—” She hesitated, groping to put a name to the four towheaded children who sat so quietly beside their father in church. “Simon and…William. And the littlest is Mary—no, it’s Margaret.” She gave Letty a triumphant look. It was short-lived.

“The oldest girl is Liza and it’s not short for Elizabeth. The second boy isn’t William, he’s Willard, and the baby’s name is Minerva.” Letty ticked off the names on her fingers before fixing her friend with a stern look. “You can’t marry Andrew Webb when you don’t even know the names of his children, Eleanor.”

“I can learn their names.” Eleanor set her chin in a way that would have startled Luke McLain.

“You don’t love him,” Letty noted.

“Not everyone marries for love. Love can come after marriage.” Eleanor tried to sound more confident than she felt. “He’s a nice man.”

“With terrible taste in hats,” Letty observed, nodding to the overdecorated hat that Eleanor had set on the sofa next to her.

“I can learn to live with that,” Eleanor said, casting a doubtful look at the item in question.

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