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  “Sunny and I didn’t know each other very well when we wed,” Noah said, checking his reflection in the small shaving mirror on the wall and smoothing back his hair. “Being married is a special relationship. It might help to know a woman well before one weds, but many other couples have met on their wedding day.”

  Asa appreciated Noah’s calm voice. He also knew that Noah was a Union veteran like himself. Asa’s deep-down worry thrust up into his throat, preventing him from speaking. He’d spent four long years during the war killing men, destroying everything in his path. He’d seen things no man should see. How did a soldier put that behind him and become a husband and maybe a father? He felt himself seize up inside as battle memories surged through his mind and his arteries pumped his blood hard. He wished he could ask Noah how he’d come to a place of peace. But men didn’t ask other men those kind of questions.

  He drew in a deep breath. He’d come this far and he couldn’t back out, couldn’t jilt a sweet-looking, scared-looking woman like Judith. This was harder for her. She was putting her life in his hands, trusting him to be her provider and protector. He could do that, offer her that. But he had nothing more to offer. Did she sense that?

  “The ladies are busy in my upstairs,” Ashford, the storekeeper, came in, rubbing his hands together. “Wish we had nicer weather for the wedding. But we’ll manage. We’ll manage.”

  And that was what Asa must do—manage. He had gone along with Mason Chandler’s suggestion that they advertise for wives. No one had forced him. He’d done it of his own free will. He recalled Judith’s hesitant, shy letters and how he’d come to look forward to them, how he’d read and reread them. Straightening his back, he faced life. He would marry Judith today. He just wished that he was a better man for her and that his heart would stop pounding as if scolding him for not telling her what a poor husband he would make her.

  *

  Soon Mrs. Ashford knocked on the guest bedroom door and reentered. She and Emma helped Judith into the royal-blue dress with tiny mother-of-pearl buttons and hand-tatted lace at the high collar. Judith had labored over it for several weeks. She’d decided on a classic style, which, though it followed the new fashion of a slimmer profile, would indeed last her many years.

  “Such fine stitching,” Mrs. Ashford remarked. “You are quite a seamstress.”

  Judith managed a smile. Finally dressed, she was led to the hallway to a full-length wall mirror.

  “You look beautiful,” exclaimed the young daughter, Amanda, and Emma echoed the sentiment.

  Judith could only hope Asa Brant thought so. She’d never been deemed pretty, as Emma was, something people had found necessary to point out all through her childhood and teens.

  “Every bride is beautiful, but Miss Jones, you do look lovely,” Mrs. Ashford agreed.

  Judith finally let herself examine her reflection. She did indeed look well in her dress, but also stunned. Didn’t anybody notice that?

  Soon they were layering up coats, gloves, shawls to meet the winter cold that still lingered and then walking out to the church-schoolhouse combination.

  There the women paused just inside the cloakroom and shed their outerwear. After handing both twins bouquets of dried flowers that had been waiting on the shelf, Mrs. Ashford and Amanda hurried on inside to take seats, while Mr. Ashford offered to walk Judith down the aisle to her groom. He told them there would be no “Wedding March” since there was no organ or piano.

  The urge to bolt shot through Judith like lightning. But she could not go back home, so she had to go forward. She mastered herself and took the man’s arm.

  Emma slipped in front of them. “Ready, sister?”

  Judith nodded, unable to speak.

  Emma stepped into the open doorway to the large classroom, lifting her shoulders, and then she began to walk sedately down the aisle toward the front.

  Mr. Ashford paused with Judith and then started after her sister.

  From nerves, Judith’s vision wavered, but she was able to see the preacher holding an open book in front of the room, flanked by Asa Brant, obviously in his Sunday best. Another man stood beside him, no doubt the best man.

  Emma arrived at the front and moved to one side to leave room for Judith next to Asa. Mr. Ashford squeezed her arm, released her and moved to sit with his family in the front row.

  Judith’s heart was leaping beneath her breastbone. She felt a bit light-headed.

  “Please join hands,” the pastor said. “Miss Jones, I am Noah Whitmore, and it’s my honor to join you in holy matrimony to Asa Brant.”

  The man’s calm voice soothed her. She managed a smile but could not bring herself to look up into her groom’s face. If she did, then she might panic, so she concentrated on Noah Whitmore’s voice and Asa Brant’s firm grip on her icy kid-gloved hand.

  *

  Asa held on to his bride’s hand like a lifeline. His mind brought up the face of a woman whom he’d courted before the war and who’d sent him a letter in 1862 telling him she’d married another and was bound for California to leave the dreadful war behind. She’d wished him well. He’d been sitting in an army tent buffeted with cold wind and rain, exhausted from burying dead comrades.

  He shoved this memory out of his mind. He barely remembered her except for that moment when she’d cut their connection. That day he’d been hoping for a consoling letter. He’d burned hers.

  He forced himself back to this important occasion. The wedding ceremony proceeded along the usual lines. He faced his bride, determined.

  Noah’s words penetrated. “Asa, repeat after me, please.”

  Asa swallowed to clear his throat and voiced this pledge. “I, Asa, take thee, Judith, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor and cherish till death do us part.” He felt guilty promising things he might not be able to do. But he’d do his best.

  In a voice that trembled on some words, his bride voiced her vows to him. And she accepted the simple gold band he slipped on her finger.

  “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder,” the pastor intoned.

  Behind him, Asa felt a relaxation of tension. Had the assembly expected his bride to flee? He couldn’t blame them. The pastor continued, “Forasmuch as Judith and Asa have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company of witnesses, and thereto have given their pledge, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving a ring, and by joining hands, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The pastor beamed. “You many now kiss your bride, Asa.”

  Asa leaned down slowly, self-consciously. He hadn’t kissed a woman in so long. His bride gazed up at him as if stunned. He pressed his lips to hers lightly. The unexpected shock of the contact whipped through him. He ended the kiss and tightened his hold on her hand. He couldn’t stop himself from whispering, “I’ll do right by you, Judith.”

  His bride barely nodded in reply.

  The pastor brought him back with “Ladies and gentlemen, I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Asa Brant.”

  There was loud applause and some foot-stomping, and a few children shouted, “Hurray!”

  Asa couldn’t help himself. In the face of everyone’s obvious enthusiasm, he smiled though his lips felt tight, unused to the expression.

  The next few hours passed in a blur of a festive meal; a special and delicious cake provided by the local baker, Mrs. Rachel Merriday; and many well wishes and gifts. Finally, just as darkness was stealing over the sky, Asa brought the wagon to take his bride home.

  He halted the team just outside the door and got down.

  Judith’s sister, Emma, stood by her side. “I wish all the best to the best sister,” Emma said. The two sisters clung to each other for a moment. Then Emma stepped away.

  Asa helped Judith up onto his wagon. Someone had already loaded on her baggage and all the presents. The schoolhou
se emptied, and people shouted congratulations to them as Asa drove up the uneven trail through the town and forest, very aware of his bride on the bench near him.

  She shivered.

  “My…our place is a little over a mile from town,” Asa said as they left everyone behind. “Won’t be long and I’ll have you by the fire. Warm enough under the lap rug?”

  Judith nodded. “It all happened so fast.”

  “Soon as I talked to Noah Whitmore, the women just took over. I tried to rein them in but got nowhere. I decided just to stand back, sure they’d do a better job of planning a wedding than I would.” He couldn’t believe how he was babbling. He shut his mouth. What might come out if he kept this up? He needed to guard his tongue. He couldn’t let her connect him to her brother. Doing so might bring up matters he didn’t want to discuss, didn’t want known here.

  “After meeting Mrs. Ashford, I understand. And it was really a lovely wedding.”

  Asa nodded but concentrated on navigating the narrow trail through the snow. He felt a shiver shudder through her. “You’re cold,” Asa said. “Move closer.”

  She scooted over the few inches separating them, shutting out an avenue of the cold wind. “That’s better,” she murmured.

  He tried not to stiffen. Having her this close awoke his senses in an unexpected way. Why couldn’t she have been a plain, unexciting woman? In the scant light left by the fading sun, Asa held himself back. “Not far now,” he said.

  *

  Judith found she couldn’t speak, her throat frozen. Grateful for the low light, she nodded against his shoulder. Then, up the trail in a clearing, she saw the roof of a large log cabin and barn facing it. Asa drove up to the door of the cabin. Within minutes he had her inside. “Stand by the fireplace.” He knelt and stirred up the banked fire. “I need to get your things and put the horses away.”

  A little disappointed he hadn’t carried her over the threshold, she quelled any complaint. He’d wanted her in by the fire. That showed concern. Men didn’t often feel the same way about customs as women did. “Can I help?”

  “Just keep warm.” He hurried outside. Soon he carried in her trunk and then her hatbox and valise. “Won’t be long.” He went outside again, shutting out the chill of early March. She stood in place like one of the surrounding forest trees, unable to speak for fear she’d burst into tears. This was hard.

  The fire began to throw out some heat, and she fed it more kindling and wood. Before long, she began to feel the warmth, though inside she still felt chilled.

  The door opened again and Asa walked in. She turned to him, her pulse thrumming in her ears. In the low light, she gazed at this man, now her husband. She wasn’t afraid of him, but what would be expected of her tonight? She’d had no mother to explain the workings of marriage to her. She’d never been allowed alone with a man in his home before. And now she stood here with a stranger. Her throat tightened and she felt a bit faint. What would happen next?

  Asa went to the table opposite the hearth. She heard him strike a match. Even this tiny sound caused her to flinch. She watched him light an oil lamp.

  He straightened and turned to her. “Warmer?”

  She nodded, frozen in place.

  He passed her and held his ungloved hands toward the fire. “Winter can linger this far north.”

  Once again she was struck by his rich voice, and her stomach was doing little hops and skips now.

  He faced her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “We’re strangers, and here we are, married.” His voice curled around her nape, making her shiver with awareness. “Don’t worry.”

  She didn’t really know how to take what he was saying.

  “You’ll sleep there.” He pointed to a curtained doorway. “I’ll sleep in the loft till we get…more acquainted.”

  His words finally made sense to her jumbled mind. “Thank…you. This all happened so fast.”

  “For me, too.” He looked uncertain. “I have something for you,” he said, motioning toward the other side of the cabin.

  Judith turned and gasped. The lamplight glinted off the gold paint on what looked like a brand-new Singer sewing machine. Unable to stop herself, she moved toward it. When she reached it, she almost feared to touch it. “For me?”

  “Don’t do much sewing myself,” he said, again sounding uneasy.

  Then she did touch its smooth metal and wood. “I can see you’re going to be an indulgent husband.”

  “No,” he replied with something like a grin in his tone. “Arbitrary and overbearing to the end.”

  His unexpected but almost teasing reply eased her tension. “No one has ever given me such a lovely gift.” Impulsively she whirled to him and, standing on tiptoe, kissed his cheek. Shocking herself.

  He looked abashed. “I wanted to give you something special but useful.”

  “I love it. So thoughtful.” She felt herself blushing.

  He stepped away from her, acting uncomfortable. “I’m going to feed the fire, bank it down for the night.”

  She watched him, not knowing what else to do.

  Then he escorted her to the bedroom curtain. “Night… Judith,” he said formally.

  “Good night, Asa,” she replied, her throat thick with gratitude for his understanding. It felt strange to call a stranger by his given name and to hear him address her in the same way.

  She entered the room and sat down on the bed, suddenly spent. For a moment she just sat there, gazing around in the scant light, listening to Asa moving about the cabin, barring the door and then extinguishing the lamp. She heard the ladder rungs creak as he mounted them to sleep in the loft.

  Finally she let out a sigh. Sights, sounds jumbled in her mind. She swept them away by rising and preparing herself for sleep. Light from the fire around the curtain provided just enough for her to do what she needed, and soon she snuggled into the chilly bed, shivering slightly.

  Her deep fatigue and rampant confusion fought it out, but fatigue won and her eyes closed just as she finished her nightly prayer. It included concern for her sister, whose day had not gone as expected, either.

  At the last moment, she recalled that upon meeting Asa, she’d thought she’d seen him somewhere before. But that was ridiculous, probably just nerves. She’d given her promises to Asa, and even if she wasn’t the pretty sister, the one men always paid attention to, she would do her best to be a good wife.

  *

  Asa soon wrapped himself in his quilts on the pallet he’d made up in the loft. The knowledge that someone else was sleeping here leaked through him, easing a tightness in his chest. A woman was here, and he wouldn’t face another long winter alone in his cabin.

  Yet after the war, he’d come to the cabin wanting to be alone.

  Army camps had been crowded, teeming with thousands of men. He’d never been able to get away, by himself. And when he’d returned home, people had sought him out and brought up the war every time they met him. He’d finally left home to come here to homestead, find peace. Put the past behind him…if he ever could. But he found that silence only caused him to remember sights he longed to forget.

  He tried to relax and stretch out, forcing himself not to dwell on how pretty his bride was and how sweet. He began to tell himself that everything was going to turn out right. He had a place of his own and now a wife.

  After they got used to each other, life would smooth out. His past, his secret guilt, would remain secret. She had not said a word about recognizing him. After all, she would have seen him only at a distance, and he’d been in uniform and bearded both times. He would be able to keep the past and the present separate.

  He continued to reassure himself. He’d made a wise decision to go along with Mason Chandler and put that ad in the Dubuque paper. Everything was going to turn out fine. He’d survived a war. He could survive adjusting to marriage. Though the war had burned away all his tender feelings, he would be a good provider and try to think of his wife’s needs before his own. That’
s the best he could do.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, Judith dressed and walked out through the curtain. She’d heard Asa, who had already built up the fire before he left, telling her he was going to milk the cows. She approached the area near the hearth that appeared to be the kitchen, preparing herself to make her first meal in her new home for her new husband.

  She’d never cooked over an open fire before. Her home had always had a wood stove, but cooking was cooking, right? And she definitely didn’t want to make a mess of her first meal for Asa. On a wooden counter she found a bowl of brown eggs. Nearby in a barrel were a sack of flour and some other necessaries, and she began to mix up pancakes.

  Outside she heard someone stomping his boots and then, with a gust of cold wind, Asa hurried inside. “Got a dusting of snow last night.” He hung his coat and muffler on pegs by the door.

  “Well, that’s not surprising for March,” she replied, trying to sound natural, though her stomach was doing some kind of nervous jig.

  “What’re you mixing up?”

  “I thought pancakes for breakfast?”

  He nodded. “Soon I’ll be tapping trees.” He set a jug of milk on the counter.

  “Tapping trees?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “To make maple syrup.”

  She sent him an approving glance. “You are an enterprising man, Asa Brant.”

  He grunted in reply and walked over to warm his hands by the fire.

  She was curious about this man. Now they could get to know each other better. “Did your father teach you how to tap trees?”

  “Noah Whitmore taught me.”

  “Noah?” She mixed in some of the milk he’d brought.

  “Man who married us.”

  “Oh.” The scene yesterday in the schoolhouse where they’d exchanged vows flooded her. She shook it off. “I’ve never cooked over an open fire before,” she admitted. “I take it I pour the batter into the skillet and then hold it over the fire?”