 
Mail Order Millie

By Katie Crabapple

Copyright 2011 by Katie Crabapple

Smashwords Edition

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George has a hard time dealing with his farm and his four children after the death of his wife. When the ladies at his church raise money for a mail order bride for him, he doesn't argue with them. He needs a caretaker for his family. Millie has a short time to find her own way in the world before she is kicked out of the orphanage where she was raised. George's letter about his requirements for a bride fit in all ways but one. Will her lie keep them apart even after they're married?

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Chapter One

Minnesota 1880

Agnes climbed back into her buggy and headed toward town. She'd just delivered her weekly meal to Mr. Stevens, a widower from their church, and his four children. After Mrs. Stevens had died of fever six months before, the ladies in the church had divided up the days of the week. Every day someone drove the four miles out to the Stevens' farm and fixed a meal. They'd all assumed he'd have found a new wife by now. Obviously Mr. Stevens needed a little bit of prompting.

Once she was back in town, Agnes sent her only son, James, with letters to the six other women who were taking meals out to the family. She had a solution, and they were all going to need to work together to make it happen.

The following afternoon, a Saturday, the women gathered in Agnes' parlor. "It's time Mr. Stevens remarried," Agnes announced once they were all settled with their coffee and cookies.

Stella sighed. "I won't argue you with, Agnes, but where is he going to find a wife? The closest girl to marrying age in the whole town is my Carrie, and she's only fourteen. That's too young to marry and be an instant mother."

"I have an idea. You see, I saw an ad for an agency that hooks farmers and ranchers up with eligible young ladies." She paused for effect. "We're going to find Mr. Stevens a mail order bride." She beamed a smile at the others as she said the words.

Norma's jaw dropped. "Mr. Stevens doesn't have the kind of money it would take for a mail order bride." None of them did. They were a community of dirt farmers.

Agnes nodded. "I realize that. We're going to have a bake sale to raise the money." She dared the other women to argue with her on this. They wouldn't, of course. No one ever argued with Agnes.

The other women all nodded hesitantly. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Agnes?" Stella asked. Agnes had always been the unacknowledged leader of their little group, because she was the most outspoken. She was rarely questioned when she came up with one of her ideas.

"I'm positive. Now, should we set the date for the bake sale for a week from tomorrow? We'll hold it right after church. The lonely farmers who don't have a wife baking for them will be thrilled to get their hands on our baked goods."

The women talked and discussed and set a sales goal. Agnes would make her pumpkin pie and Stella would make her applesauce cake. They were sure they could raise the money in just one Sunday. Once they had paid the broker for his services, They'd have Mr. Stevens write a letter discussing what he was looking for in a wife. It was all going to be perfect.

*****

Boston 1880

Millie walked slowly down the hallway of the orphanage to Mrs. Stanton's office. She knew what this was about. She was going to be eighteen soon. It was time she made plans to leave the orphanage behind. They were overcrowded and there was no room for her.

She took a deep breath, wishing she could put off the inevitable, and knocked on the door.

"Enter!" The voice was brisk, letting Millie know she wasn't in the mood to be argued with today.

She walked into the office and stood straight and tall in front of Mrs. Stanton's desk. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?" Her hands were shaking as she buried them in the skirt of her long dress.

Mrs. Stanton was a kindly woman in her fifties. She smiled at Millie. "I'm sure you know what this is about."

Millie nodded, looking down at the floor. "It's time for me to move on." Please say you want me to stay on and help with the children. You know I'm a hard worker. Everyone says I'm the hardest worker they've ever seen. Please let me stay. Please.

Mrs. Stanton sighed. "I wish it were different. We simply don't have room for all the children we have. The older ones need to find a way to make their own way in the world." She picked up a stack of five letters from her desk. "These are all letters from men who live out west who need wives. Pick the one you want, and bring the rest back to me. You'll need to send a letter back to the man, and we'll see what happens from there."

Millie sighed. She'd really hoped the orphanage would find a job for her, but it hadn't happened and her time was up. "Thank you, ma'am." She looked down at the letters in her hands. "I'll go read them now."

Her friend, Charlotte was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her. She took one look at the letters in her hand. "You're getting the boot, aren't you?"

Millie nodded slowly. "It's time. You're next, you know."

Charlotte sighed. "I'm going to miss you. You're the best friend I've ever had."

"I'm not going yet, but soon. I have to pick out a letter to answer."

"Do you want help? Or would you rather do it alone?"

Millie looked down at the letters. "I think it's something I need to do alone."

"I'll be here if you need me."

Millie walked slowly through the old house to the room she shared with six other girls. The beds were all lined up against one wall, with barely enough room to stand between them. She sat down on her bed and began reading. The first letter was from a nineteen year old boy who wanted to marry and get his own homestead in the Dakota Territory. She wanted a man who already had an income, she thought. She didn't want to ever be in this position again.

The second letter was from a sixty year old man who just lost his wife the previous year. She wrinkled her nose. She couldn't imagine having to be the wife of someone that old, but the idea of being in an established home was nice. No. He was too old.

The third letter sparked her interest. "I'm a twenty-six year old man with four children. I live on a farm in Minnesota. My wife died of a fever a few months back, and I need a new wife to help with four children. Must be over twenty-one and a good cook. Will pay your way here, and send a clothing allowance. Must be a strong Christian." It was signed simply, "God bless. George Stevens."

Millie read the letter once more. She went to church every Sunday. She had helped in the orphanage kitchen often enough that she could cook a decent meal most of the time. She loved children. She pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper and wrote a quick reply. "I think I'm the wife you're looking for. I'm twenty-two. I work in the kitchen of an orphanage here in Boston, and would like to move out west to be your wife. I love children. I hope you will consider me. I have been a Christian all my life. Millie Brown."

As she folded the letter, she told herself the lies she'd told were no big deal. He would be thrilled once he saw her. She was pretty after all. She took the other letters down to Mrs. Stanton. "I'm going to walk my reply over to the post office. I'll be back in time to help with dinner," she promised.

As she walked, Millie dreamed of what it would be like to live on a farm in Minnesota. She would cook and clean, and he would shower her with gifts. She'd be able to wear fine dresses like the ladies on the street. She would never again be in a position of wearing hand-me-down clothes. Life would be perfect.

*****

Minnesota

George stared down at the letter in his hand. When the women from church announced they'd raised the money for a mail order bride for him, he hadn't known what to think. Yes, he knew he was a burden on them, but his oldest daughter, Patience, just wasn't old enough to help out much. At six, her mother had just started to teach her to cook before her untimely death. He closed his eyes. He missed Martha with everything inside him. She'd been a good wife and a good mother.

He flipped the letter over in his hand. Maybe the ladies were right. He needed a wife who would do the cooking and cleaning and tend the children. Patience wasn't able to take care of the others for long periods, and he was going to put them all in the poor house if he didn't find more time to devote to the farm chores.

He opened the letter and read it slowly. Her name was Millie. She hadn't included a picture, but he didn't really care what she looked like. He just needed someone to help with the children and cook decent meals. She'd do.

He put his pen to paper. "You sound like you're exactly what we need. I will ask the agency to forward your fare and some extra for some new clothes for you. We will see you soon, I hope."

*****

Boston

Millie read the letter and smiled. She walked to Mrs. Stanton's office and knocked briskly, entering at her call. "I've found a husband. My fare and money for clothing will be forwarded to me."

Mrs. Stanton smiled. "I'm happy for you, Millie. I hate telling you girls you have to leave, but we just can't afford to keep you. I hope you'll be very happy."

Millie knew that Mrs. Stanton was being sincere. She'd have loved to keep every single child who came through the orphanage forever, but then she'd never be able to help anyone else. "I'm sure I will." There was a spring in her step as she left Mrs. Stanton's office. She was going to be a wife and a mother, and treated like a princess. This was the life she always knew she was destined for.

Two days later a letter came with a train ticket, a stage coach ticket and some money. More money than Millie had ever seen. She immediately purchased some fabric and began making a wedding dress. For George to have sent this much money, he must be well-off. She smiled. Life was going to be so much better for her.

She sent a letter off immediately with her arrival date and time. She'd be leaving in four days. She bought enough fabric for several dresses and a few books for the trip. She would be a married woman in a few weeks. She couldn't wait.

She and Charlotte worked night and day for the next four days on her wedding dress. She already had a few dresses that would serve her well, but nothing to be married in. She'd sew the other dresses with the fabric she'd purchased once she reached Minnesota.

Eleven days later, early in the morning, Millie sat staring out the window of the train. They would be arriving at her train depot in less than an hour, and then she would have a three hour journey on the stagecoach before she reached her new home outside of the town of Bainsville, Minnesota.

She clutched her stagecoach ticket in her fist. She'd slept little since getting on the train. She'd had to ride in the common car the whole way, and she'd heard some cuss words that shocked her to the core. She'd had high expectations for her first train ride, and the reality of what it was like shocked her to the core. Yes, the travel was fast, but it was dirty and bumpy. She hoped to never have to ride another train in her life.

Since she'd switched trains in Chicago, she'd sat with a woman, only a few years older than she was, and her three small children. She'd held the woman's little boy, Elmer, in her lap most of the day yesterday. He was now sound asleep on the seat beside her, curled into a little ball.

She was weary from her week-long journey, and hoped she would be able to bathe before she met her new husband. She smelled rank, and knew she must look even worse. She'd been thrown up on twice yesterday as little Elmer had experienced motion sickness.

She clutched her bag nervously as she got off the train and entered the large depot in St. Paul. Never having left Boston, this journey had been quite an adventure, but not the kind she'd wanted. She'd imagined a much more glamorous time than what she'd had on the cramped train car.

There were three stagecoaches waiting in front of the train station, and she approached the first driver to see if he was headed to Bainsville. He pointed to the second without saying a word to her.

She walked in the direction he pointed, stopping to ask the driver, "Are you going to Bainsville?"

He grunted and held his hand out for her ticket. She climbed into the coach and sat on one of the benches, her both bag in her lap. A woman alone and a young couple joined her in the coach. They all gave her strange looks. They obviously hadn't been traveling as long as she had. They were all still fresh and clean looking.

She rested her head against the window beside her, wishing she could sleep. She was almost done with this long journey, and just wanted to be there. She had George pictured in her mind. He would be tall with blond hair and blue eyes. He would take one look at her and know he'd made the best decision of his life by sending for her. He'd hire someone to do all the housework and someone else to farm, so they could spend all their days together, going on long walks and gazing into each other's eyes. She smiled as she pictured it.

The hours went by quickly as she stared out the window at the countryside. It was a beautiful land, and she was happy to be able to be a part of it.

Bainsville was the first stop, and she looked out the window, half hoping to see George and his children waiting for her. The other half of her hoped someone would be waiting to drag her off to a huge tub of water and force her to bathe until she no longer smelled like sweat and vomit. Instead she saw a small group of women who were watching the stagecoach. She got out carrying her bags. She walked to the women and asked, "I'm supposed to be meeting George Stevens here. Do any of you know him?"

The women exchanged looks with one another. One of them stepped forward, holding out her hand to greet Millie. "I'm Agnes Sims. We need to get you to my house and bathed before your wedding. We only have an hour, and you cannot get married smelling the way you do." She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Millie nodded. She couldn't agree with Mrs. Sims's assessment more; she needed to bathe soon as it could possibly be arranged. "I was hoping to bathe before I met him. I held a small child on the train yesterday, and he vomited on me more than once."

Agnes smiled. "Well, come along then. You have your wedding dress?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's in my bag." She gripped her bag tighter. It held everything she owned in it. Four dresses, counting her wedding dress, and some fabric to make a few more.

Agnes sighed. "I'll get the wrinkles out while you bathe." It was obvious to Millie that Agnes thought she'd come unprepared.

Agnes led her to a pretty two-story wood home. She immediately barked out orders. "Get water heating for a bath, and do it quickly!"

Her daughters jumped to work. Her son went to drag the tin tub into the kitchen. He went outside to get more water from their well. "We'll have you clean in no time," Agnes told her.

As soon as the tub was filled, they left the room and allowed her to undress and get into the tub. She immediately sank back and washed her hair with the soap Agnes had so kindly provided. She knew she had to be quick or be late for her own wedding.

Just as she wrapped herself in a drying cloth, Agnes returned with her freshly ironed dress. Millie quickly pulled her undergarments on and stepped into the dress. Agnes buttoned it up the back for her. "Sit and I'll fix your hair for you."

Millie sat quietly while Agnes fussed with her long brown hair. "I brought my veil from my own wedding for you to borrow," Agnes told her. "You look awfully young to be marrying and taking on four kids, but I guess you know what you're in for." Agnes talked nonstop, finally pinning the veil in place. She walked around in front of Millie. "There. You look perfect. I left it long, because your hair is so beautiful. There's plenty of time to pin it up when you start working on that house of yours." Her eyes went to the clock on the wall. "Just in time, too. Wedding starts in five minutes. It's a good thing it's just a short walk."

She grabbed Millie's hand and started pulling her toward the door. "Girls, get on over to the church. James, carry Millie's bag. We've got a wedding to go to."

The church was full when they arrived. Millie had expected a quiet affair with only George and the children, but obviously everything had been arranged. The entire town must have been invited. A man stood at the back and offered her his arm. "Don't run down the aisle, Howard. This is good practice for when our girls get married," Agnes ordered.

Ah, thought Millie. This must be Mr. Sims. She wondered when he'd show up. Agnes seemed to have everyone jumping whenever she said a word, and Mr. Sims was obviously no different from the rest of them.

Slowly they marched up the aisle of the church to slow music. She swallowed hard, nervous about seeing her husband-to-be for the first time. He hadn't turned around to watch for her like everyone else in the church had done. It was as if he really didn't care what she looked like.

His hair was brown and he was wearing a pair of work pants and suspenders. He wore a full beard, which was something she was unaccustomed to in the city. His blue work shirt had the sleeves rolled up. He hadn't even taken the time to dress up for his own wedding? Millie's heart fell. He'd advertised for a bride. Why wasn't he excited now that she was here? Why, she could see the dirt on the back of his shirt. He must have come straight here from the fields.

She reached the front of the church and he turned to her for the first time. His green eyes were warm, but sad-looking. His hair was brown, and his beard was trimmed short. She smiled up at him through the veil covering her face. Would he see it?

The preacher started the ceremony then. She repeated her vows as expected and listened as he repeated his. When he was told he could kiss his bride, he lifted her veil and brushed a quick kiss across her lips, dropping the veil back in place. He didn't even want to see what she looked like.
Chapter Two

After the quick wedding, they were hurried out of the church. His four youngsters followed behind them. She looked at them, trying to guess their ages. The oldest was a girl and looked to be around seven. She was holding the hand of the youngest, who couldn't have been more than two. The youngest was also a girl. The two in the middle were boys.

She smiled at them, and realizing they couldn't see it, she pulled her veil off her face. She'd have to remember to return the veil to Agnes the next time she was in town. "Hello," she said to the children. The only words she'd exchanged with her new husband had been part of the wedding ceremony. She certainly hoped he usually talked more, because she could go crazy pretty quickly with only small children to talk to.

He took her hand and helped her into the wagon. The children all climbed into the back with the oldest helping the youngest up. "What are your names?" she asked.

The oldest smiled at her uncertainly. How long had their mother been dead? Had he mentioned that in his letter? She tried to remember his exact words. Six months she thought he'd said. Even accounting for the time they'd corresponded, she couldn't have been dead for over eight months. Were the children even ready for a new mother?

"I'm Patience," the eldest said. She pointed to the next in line. "That's Michael and that's Jacob," she said pointing to the younger boy. She clutched the baby sitting on her lap tighter. "The baby is Grace."

George had started driving during the introductions. She knew she should be paying attention to her new husband and where they were going, but she was more concerned with the children. "How old are you, Patience?"

"I just turned seven last month," she replied softly.

"You're going to be a big help, then, aren't you?" Millie wanted this little girl to know she'd do her best to be a good mother to her. Including her seemed to be the way to do that.

Patience nodded. "Papa says after you learn how we do things, you'll start teaching me. I can't wait to learn to read." She paused. "Mama just started to teach me before she died. I learned how to write all my letters, but didn't get to learn to read yet."

"We'll do it together. I appreciate you being willing to help out for a couple of weeks more, though. It'll be nice to learn the ropes from someone who knows what she's doing so well."

Patience sat up a little straighter as she smiled. "I'm happy to do it," she said.

The drive to the farm took longer than Millie had expected. They were much further from town than she'd hoped. "How far is it to the farm?" she asked George.

"It's four miles," he answered shortly.

Her husband obviously was a man of few words. She stared straight ahead, wondering what she could say that would interest him. "I'm surprised the weather is so pretty with it being April and all. I thought it would be colder here." Weather was always a safe topic, wasn't it?

He shrugged. "Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn't. We could still get another blizzard or two, but it's not likely."

She looked at him in surprise. "Do you get blizzards often here?" She hadn't thought much about what the climate would be like in Minnesota. She was sure she'd studied about it in school, but she couldn't remember a thing. Minnesota was one of the newest states.

"Some. We make it through."

She sighed. Hopefully he was just shy and they'd talk more as they got to know one another.

He stopped the buggy in front of a small farmhouse the boards a dull gray from the wind and rain. Millie stared in surprise. Why had she pictured a large two story house, painted white, with flowers planted all around it? This house was nothing like that. Judging by the size, it couldn't have been more than two or three rooms.

She waited for him to come around and help her down from the wagon, but he immediately went around and unhitched the horses instead. She hadn't expected an instant romance, but she felt like she was being frozen out for some reason.

She got down from the wagon and went around to the back to take the baby from Patience. "Let's go inside and you can all show me around," she said enthusiastically.

The three older children climbed down from the wagon watching her. Finally Patience held out her hand. "I'll show you." Michael and Jacob trailed along behind them while Millie carried Hope. "There isn't much to see." They stepped into the house and Millie felt her heart catch in her throat. Filthy was too clean a word for what she saw. She would have thought they'd make an effort to clean for her arrival.

"This is the kitchen," Patience said. Millie looked around. There was a nice stove, covered completely in dishes. "We have a well just outside the back door."

There was a large basin for washing dishes. She'd have to see to them as soon as she'd changed. She turned to Michael and Jacob. "Would you boys start bringing in some water from the well? Looks like I need to start off by washing some dishes and scrubbing up the kitchen."

There was a work bench with shelves under it for storing dishes. She could see some nails had been driven into the wall to hang the pans. Two large wooden shelves stood to the right of the work bench with tin containers for flour, sugar and other essentials. She was happy to see there were some spices as well. The set-up would work well for her as soon as she got it clean enough to be able to work in.

There was no sitting area, just a kitchen and a table and chairs. Patience led her to the first door opening off the main room. "This is Papa's room." The bed was unmade and the wood floor looked like it hadn't been scrubbed in the months since his wife died. There was a thick quilt jumbled up at the bottom of the bed. It, too, was filthy.

Patience led to the next room. "This is my room. Papa said we'll be sharing it for a while." She smiled at Millie as she said that. "I like the idea of sharing a room with you and Gracie."

Millie's eyebrows drew together. He was planning on her sleeping with the girls? He didn't want a wife. He wanted someone to clean and look after his children. She stiffened her spine.

Patience led her to the stairs leading up to the loft. "The boys sleep up there." She didn't climb the stairs to the loft, and neither did Millie. There was no point, when there was so much more needing to be done first.

That was all there was. A kitchen and eating area, two bedrooms and a loft. She swallowed hard. Why had she pictured herself living in the lap of luxury? She couldn't have been more wrong. Still, this was her new home and it would look as good as she could make it look.

"I'll go get my things from the wagon, so I can change and get to work. Would you mind watching the baby while I get the kitchen cleaned up enough so I can fix supper?" she asked.

"Of course not. Papa said I need to help you."

Millie handed the baby to Patience and walked out the door to the wagon. Her bag was still in the back where she'd put it. She looked around for George, but there was no sign of him. Apparently, he'd gone back to work and expected her to start working as well. This was some wedding day.

She swiped at the tears pricking her eyes. Sure, she'd known she wasn't marrying for love, but she'd at least expected him to talk to her.

She carried her bag into the room she'd be sharing with Patience and Grace and changed into a work dress, slipping a new apron over her head. She quickly pinned up her hair into a bun so she could work without it getting in the way. She left the bedroom and went into the kitchen. There were two large pots full of water and another bucket full on the dirty wooden floor next to the stove.

Rolling up her sleeves, she removed the dishes from the stove, so she could heat the two pots of water. As soon as they were started, she pulled the dishes out of the basin and put them on the table with the dirty dishes from the stove. There was a bar of lye soap on the workbench, so she scraped off a bit of it and put it in the empty basin.

"Do you want me to dry them?" Patience offered. "I put Gracie down for her nap."

Millie turned to the girl with a smile. "I'd love that. We can talk and get to know each other while we work."

Millie saw the water was boiling and emptied the first of the heavy pots of water into the basin, pushing the other to the middle of the stove so it would heat faster. "You have a lot of dishes and pots. I've never seen so many!"

Grace shrugged. "Most of them aren't ours. They need to go back to the church ladies who have been bringing our suppers."

"I see," Millie said with a sigh. "Why don't you put the ones that need to go back to town in a separate stack, and we'll take them tomorrow morning."

"Okay. I can do that."

As they worked, Millie began to understand her new family through Patience's words. She was obviously shy, but warmed up quickly and answered Millie's questions. It seemed the spark had completely left her father when his wife died. The house and the smaller children were left to Patience who was not equipped to deal with them. She had helped her mother with the cooking and cleaning, but had no idea how to do it on her own.

It had been everything she could do just to keep the kids in line. She'd done her best by the younger ones, but had really accomplished nothing around the house. Millie smiled and told her it was all okay. "We'll do it all together now, and it won't seem like such a hard task."

It took over an hour and all the water to get the dishes cleaned. She put them next to the door to load in the morning and take back to town. "Where can I find food to cook for dinner?" she asked. Hopefully there would be something easy to fix, because she hadn't done a lot of cooking. She was so thankful for the lessons the cook at the orphanage had provided as soon as she'd announced her upcoming marriage to a man with four children.

Patience got a lantern and led her outside to the root cellar. After going down the stairs, she looked around and sighed. There were numerous jars of meat, fruit and vegetables. There were even potatoes and carrots kept in a bin. She could do something with all of this.

Carefully choosing which vegetables and meat, she decided to make a stew for supper. It was simple, and she could probably do it without messing up. She had several recipes she'd received from the cook in the orphanage, but for the most part, would be experimenting on her own. Hopefully she could manage the simple meal.

She filled her arms with the jars she'd use and carried them up the steep wooden stairs. Patience led her with the lantern. Once they were inside, she took the second largest pot of the ones owned by the Stevens family and set it in the middle of the stove. She'd reserve the largest for heating water, of course. She opened the jar that was labeled pork, and dumped it into the pot. She drained the jar of green beans, and peeled the potatoes and carrots, cutting them into cubes.

She added water and threw everything together in the huge pot. Glancing at the dusty clock on the mantle, she saw that it was four in the afternoon. Hopefully she would be able to have everything ready by half past five or so. She didn't know what time George would be in from the fields, so she had to assume that would work for supper-time.

She went into her bedroom and found the stack of recipes she'd written out with the guidance of the cook from the orphanage. Thumbing through them, she found one for biscuits and carried it into the kitchen. She read through the ingredients and checked to see if she had them. She was in luck. There wasn't much flour left, but what she had should be enough to fix this one meal. She could buy more flour when she went to town the following day.

The boys played outside, and Patience played with little Grace, while Millie struggled through making biscuits for the first time. The measurements on the recipe were difficult to manage. The cook didn't use regular measurements for anything. Two handfuls of flour. The cook's hands had been bigger than hers. She used three handfuls. A pinch of salt. What kind of measurement was a pinch?

She threw everything together and mixed it well, putting the biscuits into the stove and hoping they'd come out right. She peeked at them every few minutes to be sure they didn't burn. Stirring the stew, she realized it was way too soupy, so she mixed a little flour with water, the way she'd seen Cook do, and mixed it into the stew. Stirring it again, she realized it was about the right consistency. She continued to cook it, off to the corner of the stove where it wouldn't be as hot.

Removing the biscuits from the oven, she poked one. It didn't seem to be rock hard. Maybe it would be okay.

She got a rag and scrubbed off the table, making it shine. The wood was pretty when it was clean, she thought. She set the table carefully. There were enough dishes so that each of them had one plate, one bowl, and one tin cup. There were spoons and forks enough for all, and one butter knife they could share. That should be good.

She found Patience playing on the floor with Grace in their bedroom. "Is there milk I can put out for supper, or should we just drink water?"

Patience smiled in anticipation of a good meal. "Michael will go milk the cow. It's time anyway. Then we can have milk."

Millie went to the door to call the boys. "I need you to milk the cow, Michael. Jacob, come in and wash up for supper."

Both boys scurried to do what they were told. Millie smiled. It was a relief to have the children obey her immediately. She would have hated to have to punish them her first day there.

By the time Michael was back with the milk, she had everything on the table. She'd gulped down a biscuit since she hadn't eaten since the previous evening, and it had turned out fine. It was a little heavy, but it was certainly edible and didn't taste bad.

"Do you know what time your pa will be back?" she asked Michael as he put the pail of milk in the basin.

"He was in the barn. It should be just a minute or two."

She poured milk into the cups, hoping George was okay with drinking milk with his dinner. She didn't see anything else she could make for them. He didn't own a coffee pot, and she wasn't a coffee drinker anyway.

George walked in the door and stopped short. The house wasn't spotless, but at least the kitchen was clean and the dishes were done. "You've worked hard today," he said. He went to the basin that still had water in it from the dishes earlier and washed his hands. He carried the water to the back door and threw it out the door.

She nodded smiling at his compliment. "Supper's ready. Go ahead and sit down and I'll serve us all."

The children scrambled into their seats, and George took his seat at the head of the table. She went to the stove and carried their bowls of hot stew to everyone. Once she was seated, she picked up her spoon. The children stared at her with wide eyes.

"We wait to thank God for our meal before we eat," George said. His voice was calm and even with no censure.

She dropped her spoon, her face turning red. She couldn't believe he'd corrected her like that in front of the children. She bowed her head and waited.

"Thank you, Father, for this meal you've provided for us. Thank you for sending Millie to us to be a part of our family. Amen."

As they lifted their heads, she picked up her spoon. "Did you get a lot done in the fields today?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Not as much as I would have liked with going to town and all, but I got some done. I'm trying to get as much plowing done as I can while the weather is nice."

"What do you grow here?"

"Corn and wheat. We have some pigs and two cows for our own needs. I usually butcher two or three hogs every fall for some extra money. Martha always put in a kitchen garden, and you'll need to do the same." He paused as he broke a biscuit in half. "Mainly we make our money from the corn and wheat."

She took a bite of the stew and had to fight to keep from spitting it out. It was too salty. She hadn't added a single bit of salt. Why was it too salty? She took another bite, hoping she could get used to the taste.

George spooned up a bite of the stew and she mentally cringed, waiting for him to complain. He made a face. "Stew is too heavy on the salt." He said it in a mild voice, but Millie felt as if she'd been yelled at. She knew the stew was terrible.

"I know, but I didn't even add salt. I don't know why it's so bad." She stared at her bowl with a confused look on her face.

His eyes widened. "It's salt pork. Did you wash off the meat before cooking it?"

She shook her head. "I just put all the meat from the jar into the pot." Millie had never heard of salt pork. In Boston, they rarely had meat, and what they did have was purchased from the butcher the day they cooked it.

He sighed. "Have you never cooked with salted meat before?"

She shook her head. "No. I didn't know anyone did."

"From now on, when you cook with meat from one of the jars, make sure you wash off the meat. That will get rid of the extra salt." He stood and took a lantern outside.

Millie stared down at the food in front of her. The children were eating the biscuits happily, but no one was touching the stew. When George came back, she apologized immediately. "I'm sorry I ruined supper."

George set a jar of jam on the table. "Strawberry jam fixes everything. You made more biscuits than we'd eat with a meal. Now we can just put jam on them, and we'll all have full bellies. Next time, you'll know how to fix the stew." He paused. "I'll mix the stew with the hog feed and the pigs will have a great dinner. We won't let it go to waste."

Millie walked around the table, picking up each of their bowls of stew and dumped them into the big pot. "I'll leave this here for you then."

She sat down and saw the children were enjoying her biscuits with the jam. At least she'd done something right.

After dinner, she asked Michael to fetch another pail of water from the well. She heated it on the stove and immediately got the dishes washed. It only took a few minutes when she wasn't doing a week's worth of dishes. George came back in after a few minutes with an empty pot. She scrubbed that out as George put the children down to bed. She carried the old wash water out to the yard and dumped it. She sighed heavily. She'd only been here a few hours and she'd already done more work than she had to do in a week back in Boston.

When he was finished, he asked Millie to sit at the table with him for a bit. "It wasn't my decision to send off for a mail order bride." He wasn't sure the best way to start this conversation, so just jumping right into it seemed like a good way to him.

She stared at him in astonishment. "You weren't? Who decided to do it then?" Who else could have decided to send for her?

"The ladies from church have been bringing us our meals since Martha died. They got tired of doing it and had a bake sale to raise money for me to get a mail order bride. I'm not ready to be married yet."

She nodded. "How long ago did you lose Martha?"

He sighed. "It's been about eight months now. The ladies from church came out and canned for us for the winter, but I don't know how to cook, and neither does Patience. I needed someone who could cook and clean and take care of the little ones. They came to me and asked me to write my qualifications for a wife in a letter." He paused. "That's why I asked for a woman who was at least twenty-one." He eyed her skeptically. "How old are you, Millie?"

She swallowed hard. "I was eighteen a couple of weeks ago." She couldn't meet his eyes as she admitted to the lie, and she stared at her tightly clenched hands on the table.

"I thought you were young. Why did you answer my ad?"

She tried hard to come up with an acceptable answer. Finally she decided the truth was the only answer that could possibly make him understand. "I was raised in an orphanage, and there's no room once you turn eighteen. They give you a bit of time to find somewhere to go, but even before I was eighteen I was handed a stack of letters for men who needed brides. I picked you."

He nodded. "Why did you lie to me about your age?" His green eyes seemed to stare straight through her as he waited for her answer. She wanted so much to give the right answer, but knew there wasn't one.

She flushed. "I didn't think you'd want me if you knew how old I really was. I figured once you saw me, you wouldn't care that I'm only eighteen." She knew she sounded vain even as she said the words. This man wanted a lot more from a wife than a pretty face. He wanted someone who would help him by taking care of his home and his children while he worked. "The other men were either too old or too young. I didn't want to be stuck in a bad situation."

"But you didn't care about what kind of situation you put my family in?" He folded his arms across his chest. "You're not really a Christian either, are you?"

"No, I am a Christian. I've gone to church every Sunday my whole life." How could he even question whether she was Christian? Everyone she knew was a Christian, most of them church-goers. Of course she was a Christian.

"But you were willing to lie to get what you wanted. That's not the Christian way."

She sighed. "I know. I just didn't know what else to do." She should be sorry for it, she knew, but she wasn't. She'd done what she needed to do to put herself in the best position she could. It was just a little lie. Why did he care so much?

"And it didn't bother you to lie? To the man you were to marry? It didn't bother you to sin against God?" His kind eyes seemed to look right through her.

She shrugged. "I had to." She wished she could explain it in a way he'd understand, but he seemed to see everything as either Christian or not Christian. She'd lied, so she wasn't a Christian? What about forgiveness?

He watched her for a moment, seeing she obviously didn't get what she'd done wrong. She'd lied, which was a sin, but she thought it was okay, because it was what was best for her. "I'm not going to send you back," he said. "We're already married, and I won't divorce you. God's word says once you're married, you're married for life." He stared down at the table, which was cleaner than it had been since his wife died. "I want your promise you won't lie to me anymore. About anything."

She looked down at her lap. "I promise."

He nodded. "Good." He stood and took a Bible down from a shelf against the wall. "I'd like for us to read the scriptures together before bed every night. I'm sure eventually you'll understand our ways, and we'll be able to live together happily."

She nodded. He opened the Bible after sitting back down beside her. He opened it to the book of Matthew. "I want to start by reading the gospel with you. I'm not sure what you've learned over the years, but I want you to learn about Christ and what he's done for us, so you'll want to always do what's right."

She listened as he read the first chapter of the book of Matthew. She didn't know if anyone had ever taken the time to actually read the Bible with her before, but she didn't object. Maybe it would help him to see she really was a Christian.
Chapter Three

Millie forced herself to get up before the sun the following morning so she could get an early start on the day. There was so much needing to be done and a limited amount of time to do it in. She didn't know how other women did it. She dressed in the dark and went out into the main room to start a fire.

Grabbing the lantern, she went out to the hen house and hunted for eggs. They'd raised chickens at the orphanage, so coaxing the chickens off the eggs without getting pecked was old hat to her. She was able to collect twenty, and carried them into the house in her apron. She went straight into the kitchen to start cooking. She hoped everyone liked scrambled eggs, because they were the only kind she knew how to cook. Due to the lack of flour, they'd have to eat only eggs. There would be no bread or toast to go with them.

George was in the kitchen when she got back with the eggs. "I'm going out to milk the cow. I'll be back with milk in a few minutes. Are you going to get started on breakfast?"

She nodded at him tossing a smile over her shoulder. "I hope eggs are okay?" She put the large skillet onto the middle of the stove to heat it.

"Sounds good. Wake the children and have them get dressed before you start cooking, or they'll never be to the table in time." He walked out the door without waiting for a response.

Millie woke Patience first, so Patience could get Grace ready for breakfast. She called upstairs to the boys who shouted down they were getting up.

Back in the kitchen, she broke the eggs into a bowl and beat them. She'd never made eggs on her own, but she'd watched it done enough that she felt comfortable doing it. She added a bit of milk as soon as George came back in with it, and poured the eggs into the pan. She added some salt and pepper to the mixture and stood guard over it ready to scrape the eggs from the bottom of the pan to keep them from burning.

"How long 'til they're ready?"

"Just a few minutes." She stood guard over the eggs not really sure how long they took and not wanting to risk them burning. By the time they looked ready, the children had gathered and Patience had set the table. "Please let them be edible," she mumbled under her breath as she set them on the table in a large bowl.

Once they were seated, she bowed her head along with the others while George prayed softly over their meal. She served them all, and held her breath as George took the first bite. He smiled. "Good eggs."

Millie exhaled deeply. "Thank you." She picked up her fork and took a bite of her own. They were good. She could make eggs! "I'm sorry I couldn't make anything else to go with them. I'm hoping to have time to bake some bread today."

George looked at her steadily. "Why wouldn't you have time?" He couldn't fathom what else she had to do.

"I need to take back all of the dishes that belong to the church ladies and go to the store in town. I also need to do the washing." She didn't mention the scrubbing the entire house needed. She'd be playing catch up on housework for days to come.

He nodded, realizing the sense of her words. "Why don't you just go into town for the essentials today, and we'll take the dishes back on Sunday morning when we go to church?"

She didn't like the idea and nodded reluctantly. He was her husband, and she needed to obey him, but she was looking forward to meeting the church ladies one by one instead of all at once. "I'll do that. May I take Patience and Grace with me?"

"Sure. The boys can work in the fields with me."

As soon as they were finished eating, George gave her a few coins to pay for what they needed from town. "Don't buy anything we don't absolutely need. We need to save every penny."

She nodded. "We just need some basics for cooking."

"That's fine then. I'll go hitch up the team, and you can leave when you're ready." He looked at her for a moment. "We'll work close to the house today, so you just have Patience shout for us when you have lunch ready." He headed outside with the two boys trailing behind him.

Lunch. Oh no. She hadn't thought about lunch. What could she possibly make? There was no way she'd have the bread ready in time. "What can I make for lunch?" she asked Patience.

Patience shrugged. "There's some fruit in the cellar. We eat fruit for lunch a lot."

Millie thought about it for a moment. She could do the fruit today, and then plan on making enough for dinner every night they could have what was left for lunch the next day. If her dinner hadn't been such a disaster the night before, maybe she could have done that today. She went outside and around the house. She found a jar of applesauce and several pieces of dried meat. She wasn't sure what kind it was, but it was better than just having fruit for lunch.

She had put a large pot of water to heat on the stove before sitting down for breakfast, so she washed the dishes and wiped down the table as quickly as she could. She set the dishes to drying on the table rather than distract Patience from Grace by having her dry them.

"Are you ready to show me the way to town?" she asked as soon as she finished.

Patience nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I know the way."

Millie picked up Grace and carried her out to the wagon. Once Patience was seated, she put her on Patience's lap and climbed in. She'd never driven a team of horses before, so this was an experience for her. Hopefully she'd watched it done enough that it would seem like second nature.

She drove slowly at first, but as she got the hang of it, she sped the team up. It took them forty-five minutes to reach town. Going more than once a month would probably take too much time from her chores, she thought.

Patience stayed in the wagon while she went inside to choose her purchases. She went to the counter and handed the shopkeeper the list she'd made before going to sleep the night before. He read over the list and nodded. "It'll take me a few minutes to get all this together," he told her.

She watched as he put flour, sugar, brown sugar, salt, baking powder, pepper, lard, and corn meal onto the counter. She eyed the penny candy, thinking of the children, but thought about what George had told her about saving every dime, and didn't get any. She needed to make some dresses for the girls soon, but she'd have to wait until she had the household chores caught up, and she knew she should talk to George about it, so didn't even look at the bolts of cloth.

The shopkeeper carried the items to her wagon after she'd paid for them. "Thank you so much," she said as she climbed in and picked up the reins.

They drove along in silence with Patience pointing out the way anytime there was a fork in the road. When they were almost back to the homestead, Millie asked, "Would you mind gathering up all the laundry for me, please? Especially the bedding. None of it looks as if it's been washed in months. We'll get everything washed up and the beds made, and the house will be sparkling in no time."

Patience nodded. "We should be able to get the washing hung up before lunchtime. Papa will be happy to come home and see it on the line."

Millie smiled. "I'm sure he will." Maybe then he wouldn't feel like marrying her was a waste of time.

As soon as they were home, Millie put a pot of water on to boil with Grace at her feet, while Patience gathered all the dirty clothes and bed linens. Millie showed Patience how to wash the clothes with the scrub board and they hung them on the line together. Grace happily played in the yard while they worked together.

As soon as they were finished, Millie went inside to put lunch on the table, while Patience called the men in for lunch. George raised an eyebrow at the simple fare on the table, but didn't say anything. "Looks like you were busy this morning."

She nodded. "Would you mind unhitching the team and bringing in the supplies I bought in town before you go back out to the fields? I'd like to get the bread started."

"I can do that. I'm going to leave Jacob with you this afternoon when Michael and I go back out to the fields. Jacob still needs a nap."

"That's fine. I'll be spending the afternoon inside cooking and doing some more cleaning."

"That'll be fine." He gave her a quick smile to let her know she was doing well before heading outside to do as she'd asked.

After they'd finished the lunch dishes, Patience put Grace down for her nap while Millie sent Jacob to the loft for his. The little boy was fighting to stay awake, and was very reluctant to nap at all.

Millie found her recipes and pulled out the one for bread. She carefully mixed the ingredients, making sure to show Patience what she was doing as she worked. When the dough was mostly kneaded, Millie asked, "Would you like to take a turn kneading the bread?"

Patience's face lit with excitement. "Mama always said I was too young to help with the bread."

Millie smiled. "Well, you're older now. I really am glad I have such a good helper." Millie was happy to use this as an opportunity to get the little girl to open up and trust her more. She was going to be her mother for a long time, and they would do better if they had a good relationship from the beginning.

Patience worked hard kneading the bread, making sure she did it just as Millie had shown her. After a few minutes, Millie said, "That's just right. Thank you for your help." She laid a cloth over the huge mixing bowl, and went to work cleaning up the flour that had spilled.

She took out the medium sized pot and started dinner in it. This time she was careful to rinse off the salt pork before adding it to the pot. She found some carrots and potatoes in the cellar, and she and Patience peeled them and added them to the pork, adding some water as well. She'd thicken it right before serving. Everything had seemed fine the night before except for the salt, so hopefully she was doing it right this time.

Once the stew was cooking, she got a bucket of water, a scrub brush, and some lye soap, and went to work on George's bedroom. Even the log walls were filthy, so she washed them as well. Patience watched over the stew and listened for the young children while Millie worked. It took her two hours, but by the time she was done, George's room sparkled.

She walked outside to check the dryness of the sheets and quilts, and smiled. The winds were stronger here, and the bedding had dried faster than expected. She carried in George's bedding first, and got his bed made up with Patience's help. "There, how does that look?"

"I've never seen a room look so clean!" Patience said in awe.

Millie smiled, looking down at her hands which were red and almost raw from the work she'd been doing. She knew within a few weeks they'd be callused like the other women's, but right now, they hurt. She rubbed them together and went on, knowing nothing could be done for the pain.

"We'll do our room tomorrow," she told Patience. "I'm going to go get the bedding in, and we'll make up the other beds as soon as our two sleepy-heads wake up from their naps."

Patience and Millie carefully folded the sheets and quilts carrying them inside. As if on cue, Grace let out a wail to let them know she was ready to get up, so they carried the sheet and quilt for their bed in as they got her up. Patience changed Grace's diaper while Millie remade the bed.

When she turned around from making it, she saw Jacob leaning against the wall watching her. She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. "I'm going to climb up to the loft and get your sheets on now, okay?"

He nodded. This family certainly didn't talk as much as Millie was used to. Hopefully when she started to teach them all, it would be better.

She climbed the steep ladder into the loft, only holding on with one hand as she held the sheets and quilt in her other. Looking around the tiny space, she saw the boys only had room for a bed and a small dresser. She looked in the dresser drawers. There was nothing left. She'd washed everything the family owned today, except what they were wearing. It looked like each of them had two changes of work clothes, and one change of clothes for good.

All the children were growing out of their clothes, and she knew she had some long hours of sewing ahead of her this summer, but the girls' dresses need to be the first priority. Neither girl had a dress that came much past her knees and it wasn't proper for them to go out in public that way, even at such a young age.

Once the bed was made, she went back down the ladder and checked on the bread. It had risen beautifully. She made a mental note to write a letter to thank the orphanage's cook for the recipes.

She slipped four loaves of bread into the oven and stirred the stew. She tasted just a bit to make sure it wasn't too salty this time. She smiled. It tasted good! She mixed a little flour with water, and added that to the pot, and stirred it a bit more, then moved the pot to the corner of the stove. They'd eat well tonight.

"Patience, where's the cream?"

Patience looked up from where she was playing with Grace. "Papa pours if off the milk and puts it in a jug in the cellar every morning. He dumped it out before you came yesterday so it would be fresh."

Millie smiled. She'd noticed the butter churn in the corner. Tomorrow, they'd all make some butter, and they could have fresh butter on their bread. That would be a treat.

It was six before George and Michael came back from the fields. Her perfectly baked bread lay on cloths on the counter, and the stew was ready. She served everyone a big helping, and set the bread on the table. After the prayer, they all watched George as he took the first bite. "This stew is delicious. You did a good job. I guess you remembered to wash the meat this time?" He had a twinkle in his eye as he teased her about her mistake from the night before.

She blushed at the reminder of the terrible meal she'd made, but was happy he liked it. The children picked up their spoons and dug in. Each of them had two helpings, but she still had enough left for their lunch the next day. She breathed a sigh of relief. She'd finally done something right. Tomorrow morning they could even have toast with jam with their eggs. She looked forward to it.

She bit into the bread, a little worried that it wouldn't have turned out right, but it was good. A little heavier than she would have liked, but she could remedy that next time. She was feeling a little better about her prospects as a cook.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," George told her. "We'll be leaving for church early on Sunday, so make sure everyone's clothes are ready. My church shirt has a button missing, so you'll need to take care of that."

"I'll do my best," she responded thinking of the other chores she'd lined up for herself.

George nodded solemnly as he brushed the milk off his thick beard. "That's all I'll ever ask of you."

Patience helped her with the dishes while George put Grace into her crib and the boys got ready for bed. Once they were done, Patience went in search of her own bed, leaving George and Millie alone in the main room.

"You've done a really good job today," George told her.

She smiled thrilled he was happy with her. He hasn't even seen his room yet, she thought. "Thank you."

"Let's read over the next chapter in Matthew together, before bed," he suggested. She walked to the table and sat down beside him, bowing her head for his prayer. "Lord, help us to understand the words we're reading together. Help us to understand you and your son as well as any human can. Help us to want to serve you and to understand how to serve you. We pray this in the name of your precious son. Amen."

She had collected some mending that needed to be done, knowing he would want to do another Bible reading this evening, so while he read to her, she mended some tears in his work shirt. She listened to the words as he read them, but had no idea why he didn't consider her a Christian. Maybe eventually she'd figure it out.
Chapter Four

Millie made eggs and toast with jam for breakfast the next morning, smiling as her new family ate with gusto. "You're a fine cook, Millie," George told her.

She flushed under his praise, handing the baby another piece of toast. "Thank you."

"What do you have planned for the day," he asked.

"I'm going to churn some butter, and mend the church clothes. I also hope to get the rest of the house cleaned. I only have the girls' room and the loft to finish."

He nodded. "My room looks good. I meant to tell you that first thing this morning. I appreciate how hard you worked to get it clean."

She smiled at him. He may be a little too rigid in his faith for her tastes, but he was certainly appreciative of any work she did around the house. She was thankful she'd married a man who was willing to praise her when she deserved it.

"It's going to take me a few more days to catch up on the household chores, but then I'm hoping to put in a vegetable garden. Do you have a specific place I need to put it?" she asked hesitantly.

He nodded. "I'll plow the area where we had our kitchen garden last year. Patience and the boys will help you with it."

Since he seemed so agreeable, she took a deep breath and asked the other question burning on her mind. "I'd also like to make some new dresses for the girls. They've both outgrown the ones they have. Would it be okay for me to spend a little money on some calico?"

He shook his head. "They'll have to make do. Maybe once the harvest is in, I'll be able to spare the money, but for now, we just can't do it."

She bit her lip. She didn't want to have to go into town with the girls in their too small dresses. She needed to be proud of her children. Why couldn't he see that?

"All right," she said with a sigh.

After breakfast, she and Patience set up the butter churn. They added the cream, and carefully started to churn the butter. George had left Michael and Jacob at home, because they could take their turns churning as well. Making butter was a hard chore, and one she'd never done, but had watched often.

After a little while, she got the hang of it, having the children take turns when her arms grew tired. Soon, it started to get too hard to move the stick and she took it out and looked. She couldn't believe it. She'd actually made butter! After straining it and putting it in a dish, she had Michael take all but a small piece of it to the cellar to stay cool.

For dinner that night, she planned to make a big pot of beans and some cornbread. She'd started soaking the pinto beans right after breakfast and had decided to add a bit of bacon to them. Now that the butter was done, she put the beans into the pot and covered them with water, moving them to the middle of the stove to start them boiling. She chopped up bacon into little tiny bits and threw it into the water. Peering into the pot, she wondered if she should add salt. She shrugged. She'd taste it in a few hours and if it tasted too bland, she'd add salt. She'd never over salt anything again.

She mended their church clothes, finding small tears in both boys' britches, and she sewed the button back onto George's shirt. She looked at the girls' dresses, which were fine, but they were too short. Way too short. She flipped up the hems and saw there was a bit of room, so she painstakingly removed the stitches and rehemmed them, leaving only a tiny amount of the fabric sewn over. She held them up. They still weren't long enough, but they were better now.

She looked up when George came into the house. He looked at her sitting at the table with the clothes strewn around her. "Have you even thought about fixing lunch yet?" he asked.

She jumped up. "I'm sorry! I lost track of time." She cut a piece of bread, and buttered it with the small ball of fresh butter they'd kept in the house, handing it to him. "I'm going to reheat last night's stew, but I have to get it. I'll hurry!"

He ate the bread she'd given him in two bites. He was starving after a morning of plowing. He was sure the children were hungry too. She needed to start planning her time better. There was no excuse for not putting regular meals on the table.

She ran back into the house, carrying the heavy pot. She grabbed a towel and pushed the now-boiling beans to the corner of the stove to continue cooking and put the stew pot in the middle. She stirred it constantly. "I've been working on getting the children's church clothes ready, and I just plain forgot about lunch."

He nodded. "I know. The children get hungry, though, and you need to make sure you think about lunch."

Tears stung her eyes at his words. How could he be so mean about it? Couldn't he look at the clothes in front of him and see all the work she'd done? "I'll try to do better."

She quickly buttered another piece of bread for him and set the table for lunch. Going back to the stove, she stirred the now bubbling stew. "Time for lunch," she called to the children. The boys were outside playing in the yard while the girls were playing on the floor with a cloth doll.

George ate quickly and without speaking. He left to go back to work without saying another word. She wanted to throw something in frustration. Yes, she'd forgotten to fix lunch on time, but everyone had now eaten. It wasn't like she'd been sitting around reading a book all morning. She'd worked hard to get the house as clean as it was, and had a lot of hard work ahead of her. He made her feel like a child who needed to be punished.

Patience got the two little ones down for her nap, and Michael had followed George back out into the fields. Millie gathered up the dirty clothes they'd all been wearing when she'd done the wash the day before, and quickly washed them and got them hanging on the line. Now that everything was clean, she should be able to limit laundry to once per week.

Back inside, she tasted the beans, and added some seasoning to them. She tiptoed into her room, careful not to wake the baby and got her recipes, so she could make the cornbread for dinner. She couldn't wash the two bedrooms as she'd hoped to do, so she took her pail and scrub brush and washed down the walls in the main area of the house, getting down on her knees to give the floor a good scrubbing as well.

Once that was finished, she peeked in at the children, but both of the little ones were still asleep. "How would you like to bake a pie with me?" she asked Patience.

Patience nodded enthusiastically. "What kind?"

Millie shrugged. "Let's go see what we have in the cellar." They descended the stairs with the lantern held firmly in Millie's hand. "What sounds good to you?"

Patience looked at the jars on the shelves. "I like cherry pie," she said, indicating a jar of cherries on one of the shelves.

Millie smiled. "Cherry pie it is!" She hoped cherries made George break out in hives.

Millie followed the recipe she had for a pie crust, rolling out the dough carefully. It's seemed too thick to her, but she'd followed the recipe exactly, so she hoped it would come out okay.

By the time George and Michael returned for supper, she had the table set and the milk poured for everyone. George waited while Michael washed up eyeing the table. After he'd washed his own hands, he took his seat and prayed for them.

The family seemed to enjoy the beans and cornbread. Millie was surprised her cooking skills were as good as they were, but she was also relieved. She really didn't want to give George any more reasons to criticize her. She didn't even look at him as they ate, instead helping Grace get the beans in her mouth instead of all over her dress.

"Dinner's good," George commented. "Thank you."

Millie nodded after a moment. She'd considered not speaking to him, but that would be childish, and she was trying hard to show him she was old enough to take on the responsibilities of a husband and children.

The children didn't say a word as they shoveled the food in their mouths quickly. They obviously liked what she was doing around here. Why didn't George?

When she brought out the cherry pie, Jacob's eyes widened. "Cherry pie?" he asked. "That's my favorite!"

Millie smiled. "I hope you enjoy it then." She cut an extra big piece for Jacob and put it in front of him. She gave everyone a huge piece except George. She made his tiny. She knew it was petty, but it made her feel better.

As they ate the pie, she watched George, still hoping for signs of hives, but they never came. Oh well, she thought. She'd eventually make something that would give him hives. She hoped.

"Tonight's bath night," George told them. "I'll start hauling in water, while you bathe the children. Start with Grace and work your way through by age. Then we'll take turns after."

Millie nodded still not trusting herself to speak without letting words of frustration fly at him.

As soon as she and Patience finished the dishes, she turned to little Grace who was sitting on the floor playing with some empty spools of thread. "Are you ready for your bath, baby?" She picked up her and quickly stripped off her clothes. She gave her dirty clothes to Patience. "Put these in the laundry. We'll do all the wash again on Monday." And every Monday after that, she thought. Just keeping this family clean and fed was going to take up all her energy.

Patience nodded, taking the clothes and putting them in the basket reserved for the girls' laundry in their bedroom. Millie had often helped with the bathing of the younger children at the orphanage, and went about the chore quickly and easily.

She plopped the baby into the tin tub George had filled with water while she cleaned the dishes. She washed the baby's hair, singing and talking to her the whole time.

Grace splashed happily in the water, smiling up at Millie as if she were her favorite person in the world. She let out a loud squeal of protest when Millie picked up her slippery body and wrapped it in a drying cloth. "No!" she yelled, reaching back for the water.

Millie laughed. "I'm glad you like to take baths, Gracie, but your brothers need a turn." She gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek and handed the baby to Patience, who took her off to dress her. "Jacob, you're next. Do you need help with your clothes?"

Jacob glared at her. "I'm a big boy. I can undress myself." To prove himself, he threw off his clothes and stood before her naked. "I hate baths."

Millie smiled. "But you understand you need to be clean for church in the morning, right?"

He shrugged. "I guess."

She picked him up and put him in the bathtub, talking to him as she washed his hair. "I'll let you wash the rest," she told him. "Be sure to wash everywhere, even behind your ears!"

She watched as Jacob reluctantly picked up the soapy cloth and washed himself. "I'd rather be like the pigs and take a bath in mud," he mumbled.

She laughed, loving the way his little mind worked. "Mud wouldn't get you clean, though, would it?"

He shook his head. "I hate being clean."

George had gone into his bedroom and stepped out to hear his son's words. "Stop complaining, Jacob. Everything is easier with a smile on your face." He sat down beside Millie at the table. "Thanks for mending my shirt."

She nodded, not taking her eyes off Jacob. Right now she didn't even want to look at him. Besides, how was she going to take a bath with him in here? She wasn't going to shuck her clothes off in front of a man. She hoped he left voluntarily, because with the mood she was in, she wouldn't be able to control her words when she asked him to leave.

Jacob stood up, and she held out a cloth to dry him. "There." She helped him pull his nightshirt over his head. "Send your brother down for his bath."

George stood. "I need to empty and refill the tub before Michael gets in. Jacob can turn the cleanest water into mud." She stood and helped him empty the tub out the back door. They carried the tub together, and he started to refill it again.

Michael came down and undressed, climbing into the full tub. "Would you like me to wash your hair for you, Michael?" Millie asked him. "Or do you want to do it yourself?"

"I don't want my hair washed."

"That's not an option. Do you want me to do it, or do you want to do it?" she asked again.

He sighed heavily. "I hate having my hair washed."

"It's getting washed. Me or you?" She was surprised George hadn't gotten into the fight, but he just sat watching the interchange from the table. She stood with her hands on her hips letting the small boy know she was getting her way whether he liked it or not.

"You." Michael stepped into the water and sat down reluctantly. "How come my hair needs to be washed? Papa never makes me wash it."

Millie looked over at George who was studying his nails. "That's exactly why it needs to be washed. It's filthy!" She quickly washed his hair and sat back at the table. These children really did need a mother. She bit back the ugly words she wanted to say to George about his parenting. Yes, his wife had died, but that was no excuse for letting his children run around filthy.

Once Michael was off in bed, Patience took her turn. She washed her own hair and Millie helped her brush it dry while George set up the tub for her. Once Patience had gone off to bed, Millie looked at George, waiting to see if he was planning on going somewhere, or if he was just going to sit at the table reading his Bible while she bathed.

Finally he stood. "I guess I'll go out to the barn. Don't take too long. I need my bath yet tonight, too." He stifled a loud yawn as he walked out into the dark toward the barn.

Once he was gone, Millie quickly stripped down and sank into the hot water. Her tired achy muscles all but sang with joy as she quickly washed her hair and her body. She would have loved to spend an hour in there, but didn't want to risk George coming back before she was finished.

Just as she finished buttoning her nightgown, he came back into the cabin. He stared at her for a moment, his eyes travelling up and down her. Her nightgown covered her from the top of her neck down to her ankles. It was as modest as nightwear could be. This was the first time he'd seen her in her nightgown, though. She'd always changed in the girls' room, and before she came out, she was wearing her stockings and shoes and everything.

"I..umm...I'll just go to bed now," she mumbled. Her face was bright red from embarrassment. It wasn't as if he'd never seen a woman in her nightgown before, she scolded herself.

He nodded. "It makes sense to skip our Bible study on bath night." His fingers went to his shirt buttons, and she ran from the room. Climbing into bed with Patience, she rubbed her hands across her red cheeks. She had no idea she could get so embarrassed.

She lay awake a long time that night thinking about the look in George's eyes when he'd come in from the barn. Maybe, when he finally forgave her for lying to him, they might be able to have a real marriage. She was still mad at him for the way he'd talked to her, but through the anger, she could see that she wanted a real marriage with George. She would love to have some more babies of her own.

Chapter Five

When Millie woke on Sunday morning, she seriously considered feigning illness. She had no desire to go and be stared at by a bunch of people she didn't know. The wedding was bad enough, but she didn't want to have to meet them all at once like this. It wasn't that she was shy, she wasn't. She just didn't like big groups of people surrounding her, and she knew that's how it would be at church.

She rolled out of bed, putting on one of her work dresses and her apron. She'd wait to put on her church dress until after breakfast.

She went out to the hen house and gathered eggs as she did every morning, yawning as she went. She'd decided to make pancakes this morning, and hurried as she went about her work, knowing she wanted everything ready before the others woke up.

She slipped into the house and put her big griddle into the center of the stove with a spoonful of the butter. She pulled the large mixing bowl off the shelf, mixing up the ingredients quickly.

Before Millie dropped the pancakes, she knocked on George's door. "Breakfast in twenty minutes!" she called through the closed door.

She went back into the kitchen and poured the first of the pancakes onto the griddle. George yawned as he stepped into the kitchen. "I'll go milk the cow," he told her sleepily, pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders as he walked through the kitchen.

"What time is church?" she asked.

"Nine." He glanced at the clock. It was six-thirty. "We need to leave around eight, so we have plenty of time." He left and went out to the barn.

She nodded, flipping the pancakes expertly. She'd made pancakes several times, so this was easy for her. Once she had the first twelve done, she woke Patience and told her to bring Grace to the table in her nightgown. She didn't want them to get food on their church clothes. She called up to the boys to have them come down.

She cooked for another few minutes while the children took care of their necessities and came to the table. She'd just put the last of the pancakes on the platter when George came back in with the fresh milk. He put the bucket on the work table for her and she poured out milk into their tin cups.

Slipping into her seat, Millie bowed her head for George's blessing on their food. They put raspberry preserves on their pancakes with the butter, and George's eyes rounded with surprise. "These are good, Millie!" he praised.

She smiled. She'd known they'd love this for breakfast. She couldn't do it every day, but before church on Sundays, this would be their special breakfast. Everyone ate their fill, and she and Patience made quick work of the dishes. Next week she'd bring up some of the molasses she'd seen down in the cellar for the pancakes. She'd try to find new ways to fix them to make them more of a treat.

She braided the girls' hair and made sure their dresses were on just right. She helped the boys tuck in their shirts. She smiled. Her children looked just as good as they could until George would let her buy some fabric for more clothes for them.

They all piled into the wagon. Millie sat on the seat with George and held Grace. The boys and Patience sat in the back of the wagon talking excitedly. The children had all told her they loved going to church. No, they didn't love sitting through the long sermons, but they loved seeing the others from their community. Millie wished there was a school near enough for them to go to, but there wasn't, so they'd just have to enjoy their time with the other children at church.

Millie had carefully folded the veil loaned to her by Agnes, and planned to give that back to the other woman at church. All of the clean dishes were under a blanket at the back of the wagon waiting to be returned to their rightful owners. She still wasn't looking forward to meeting the other women, but she knew she'd done everything she could to make a good first impression.

When they pulled into the churchyard, all of the children piled out of the wagon and ran to their friends. Millie clutched Grace to her almost as if she were a shield. What if everyone realized she'd lied to George? They'd all look down on her forever.

She didn't need to worry. George stood by her side, introducing her to all the ladies over and over. George whispered to her each time one of them was one who had helped with their food over the months since Martha died, and she explained she had their clean dishes in the back of the wagon.

When she saw Agnes, she smiled, and handed her the veil. "Thanks for loaning this to me. I have your dishes in the back of the wagon as well."

Agnes raised an eyebrow. "Clean I hope?"

Millie nodded. "Yes, of course."

"I'll get them from you after service then. Thank you for returning them."

It was time for service to start, so Millie followed George into the church. She sat next to him, holding Grace, and the two boys sat beside George. Then Patience sat beside Millie.

Millie did her best to pay attention during the long sermon, but to her, church was for daydreaming. She paid enough attention that she'd be able to tell George the sermon was about women obeying their husbands, and went back to staring off into the distance. It was the first time she'd had to just sit since coming to Minnesota, and she wasn't going to waste it listening to some old man talk about the Bible.

After the service, Millie made sure the women picked up their things from the back of the wagon, and waited for the family to be ready to go. She'd met a few women she could like, but they all seemed to be under Agnes's thumb, and she didn't find Agnes very pleasant. She'd rather get to know them all individually anyway.

One young woman, around Millie's age, walked over as she stood looking around her holding Grace. "Hi. We haven't met yet. I'm Elizabeth, but everyone just calls me Bess."

Millie smiled. "I'm Mildred, but everyone just calls me Millie. It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to see another young married woman around here. How old are you?"

"I just turned eighteen. You?"

"I'll be nineteen next week." Bess grinned, obviously excited at the idea of having another young woman in the area. "You married George Stevens, right?"

"I did. Where in the area do you live?" Millie hoped she lived close enough for afternoon visits during the week when her chores were caught up. It would be so nice to spend some time with another young woman.

"I'm about a mile from you. Easily close enough to come by some afternoon. I'm sure you could use some company."

Millie nodded emphatically. "I have a lot to do, so if you can talk while I mend or cook, I'd be happy to have you any time." It was as if the other young woman had read her mind suggesting afternoon visits. She loved the idea and hoped they'd happen soon.

Bess's face lit up. "I can do better than that. I can help you with whatever chore you're doing and get it done in half the time, then we can sit and chat for a bit."

Millie smiled. "I'd love that. Let me know what day works for you, and I'll make some sugar cookies, and we can have cookies and milk. Or tea if you'd prefer." Her family would be thrilled if she baked a treat like that as well. She was always amazed at how happily they ate up any baked goods she made.

"Cookies and milk sound wonderful. How about Tuesday? After lunch maybe?"

"That would be wonderful. I'd love to have someone to talk to." She thought ahead to what she had planned for the week and mentally re-arranged a couple of things. "The two youngest will be napping then. I'll get the baking done in the morning, and we'll just sit and have ourselves a nice chat."

Bess hugged her quickly. "I'd like that. I'll be there."

Millie could hardly contain her excitement. The children were piling into the back of the wagon, so she handed Grace to her father and climbed onto the seat, holding her arms out for the child. George climbed in beside her.

"I'm glad you and Bess are getting along. She's been really lonely since she married John last year. It'll be nice for her to have a friend."

"It'll be nice for me, too. I miss being around other young women." She smiled as she thought of the opportunity for friendship with the girl.

He smiled over at her. "I hope you two will find time to spend together then."

"She's coming over Tuesday afternoon." She hoped George wouldn't mind she'd invited the woman over without talking to him first, but it was her house, too.

George nodded. "Sounds nice. You've worked hard this week and should take some time to sit down and get to know some of the other ladies."

Millie felt as if he'd given her the best compliment in the world. "You don't mind if I sit with her and don't work while she's here?"

"Of course not. As long as everyone's fed, I see no problem with that at all."

When they got home, Millie fixed a quick lunch and they all sat down to eat. "Will you work this afternoon?" she asked George.

He shook his head. "Not on Sunday."

"What will you do this afternoon, then?" she asked. She knew that a lot of men took Sundays off, but she had no idea how they kept themselves busy. The men she knew tended to work all the time.

"I thought we could all take a walk. Would you enjoy that?"

She nodded. "What about the little ones, though? They need their nap."

"I can carry Gracie, and Jacob will be happy to skip his nap for one day, won't you, Jake?"

Jacob nodded. "I don't need a nap. I'm not a baby."

Millie smiled at him. "I know you're not a baby." She looked across the table to George. "I'd like that." She was practically giddy at the idea of a day with no chores other than cooking and dishes. Spending a day just getting to know her new family sounded like heaven to her.

After the lunch dishes were done, they all changed into their everyday clothes and went outside. George headed west from the farm, not following any particular road, just ambling along. He pointed out different types of plants and trees for the children. At one point they stopped and looked at the nest a robin was building on the low branches of a tree. "They always say a robin is the first sign of spring. Awfully early for spring to really be here, but I'm not complaining," he told them.

Millie was amazed at what a good father George was. She hadn't thought he was a bad father, but he'd been so busy with farming and with the state the house had been in, it was hard to picture the man she knew taking the time to point out all the things in nature he was pointing out. She felt her heart flutter a bit at the idea of him doing those things with a child of theirs.

"When will you be able to plant?" Millie asked.

"I'll probably hold out another week, just to make sure there isn't another frost, but then Michael and I will plant."

"When should I put in my vegetable garden?" She had no idea about the growing season in Minnesota or about what things would grow there. She needed to follow his lead on things like that.

He shrugged. "As soon as I get the planting done, I'll plow your plot for you. Probably in another few weeks."

They walked along in silence for a while, the children playing as they walked. Millie frowned as she saw how short the girls' dresses were again. She wished she could make them new ones now.

Grace got sleepy and started to whine, so George hefted her into his arms. She put her head on his shoulder and fell asleep with her thumb in her mouth.

"We should probably turn back," George suggested after an hour or so.

Millie nodded, hating the idea of their fun day ending, but she knew she still needed to fix dinner. On the way back, George pointed off into the distance. "That's where Bess and her husband, John, live."

Millie looked over at the small lean-to on the property. There was no dirt path or road or anything, but she could picture bringing the children and having a picnic with her new friend between the two houses. It wasn't a long walk, and if each of them met in the middle, it would be even shorter. That would be something fun to do with the children during the summer months.

"Thanks for showing me where she lives. I think it would be fun to have picnics between the two properties."

George nodded. "I was thinking the same thing. The children would enjoy it."

Millie smiled over at George. He wasn't as gruff or hard as he'd first seemed. Yes, he liked things to be a certain way, but he was never unkind or cruel to her. Maybe eventually, they'd be able to live together as a real husband and wife.

When they arrived back at the house, Millie peeled potatoes and fried them up. She did the same with the salt pork, carefully washing the extra salt off, and seasoning them sparingly. She fried them in some water she could use to make gravy.

While she cooked, George sat with the children, talking about the morning's sermon and adding to it, going over the points for the children to make certain they'd grasped it all. Then he told them the story of Job, and all the trials that had befallen him. It was obvious from the way the children listened this was a regular Sunday occurrence in their home.

She made gravy with the salt pork, carefully mixing flour with water and adding it to the water at the bottom of the pan. Once she was done, she shrugged, hoping it would turn out okay.

Patience set the table for her, and she served the family. She served the some of the bread along with fresh butter. Everyone ate their share, and there was enough left over for lunch the following day. She smiled to herself. She was getting good at this cooking thing.

After the dishes were done, and the children tucked into their beds, Millie sat down at the table for her Bible reading with George.

"What did you think of the sermon today?" he asked.

She smiled. "I enjoyed it. I learned a lot," she fibbed. She had listened to part of it, but not all, of course. It was just so long and Pastor Jenkins was so boring.

"What did you think of Pastor Jenkins's points about how a man should always listen to his wife's needs as well as the wife obeying her husband?"

Millie's eyes widened. She hadn't heard that part of it. "I think he's right. I think women should have their feelings taken into account, but the final decision about what should happen with the family should always come from the husband. And the wife needs to make sure she complies with whatever the husband decides."

He nodded slowly. "Pastor Jenkins didn't talk about a man listening to his wife's needs. You seemed to be in your own world during the sermon. Did you pay attention?"

She sighed and looked down at her hands. "I tried. I really did. But he's so boring! His voice never changes. He could be talking about the most exciting thing in the world and it would put me to sleep." She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you for admitting the truth about it. I'll be honest, I have a hard time listening to him, too, but he's the only pastor we have around here, so we need to do our best." He paused for a moment, studying his young wife. "I wish we had a younger pastor who was more interesting to listen to, but it's not possible here. We need to appreciate what we have."

"I really did try."

"I understand. Just don't try to pretend you listened well when you didn't. That's being dishonest."

"I'll try to do better," she whispered. Was she ever going to be good enough?

He reached out and took her hand in his, something he'd never done before. "I'm not condemning you, Millie. You're a hard worker. The kids already love you, and I think we'll have a good marriage someday. I would just like to see you try to get over some of your bad habits before they rub off on the children. Lying is one thing I just can't abide."

She clenched his hand with tears in her eyes. "I'm really sorry."

He smiled. "I think you are, and I appreciate that. We'll work together at doing better." He paused for a moment. "When you first got here, I was sure you would fail miserably at what I needed from you just based on your age. You've already proven me wrong there. I think with a little more understanding of what the Lord expects from us, you will make a fine wife and mother."

She smiled at his praise. "Thank you."
Chapter Six

Millie worked extra hard the following day, trying to get everything ahead, so she'd be able to sit down with Bess and have a nice visit, rather than having to do chores while her new friend was there. She did the weekly wash and baked bread for the next few days. Now that she was caught up, doing wash one day per week would be easy.

She'd finished the major cleaning, and now it was just a matter of keeping things up. The worst of the catching up was finally done. The one thing that bothered her was the girls' dresses, but while she was washing the lunch dishes on Monday, the solution came to her.

She'd bought several yards of fabric to make some new dresses for herself but hadn't had time to sew them. Now that she was here, and saw how simple life was, she knew she didn't need more than two dresses for church and two for work and she already had those. She could use the fabric she had to make six new dresses for her girls, and they'd have two for play and one for good each. She smiled to herself. That's exactly what she'd do.

Once the two little ones were down for their afternoon nap, she brought out the pretty calico fabric she'd bought and spread it on the table. Thankfully, Patience knew where Martha had kept her dress patterns and brought them to Millie, practically dancing at the idea of new dresses.

"Do you want to help me?" Millie asked.

Patience nodded. "Oh, yes, please!"

Millie smiled. "Well, the first thing we need to do is measure you and make sure we make the right size." She took a piece of string and wrapped it around Patience's waist, and carefully held the string over the yardstick, writing down the measurement. As she took the measurements and wrote them down, she showed Patience what she was doing, so she would learn to be able to do the same.

By the time the little ones woke from their nap, she'd cut out all three dresses for Patience, and had carefully folded the rest of the fabric. The first seams had been sewn and some of the preliminary basting had been done. She would continue to work on the dresses as much as she could, and hopefully by Sunday, both her girls would have a pretty new dress to wear to church.

She tucked away the dresses in time to cook dinner for her family all but dancing through the chore. She was so happy to have a plan for the girls' dresses and she had a friend coming over tomorrow to just chat. Her new life was much better than she'd imagined.

After the children were in bed, she pulled out the pieces of Patience's dress and worked on sewing in tiny little stitches. George didn't pay attention to what she was doing as he pulled down the family Bible and continued their reading of Matthew. She found she looked forward to her time listening to George read, while she worked on whatever mending or sewing needed to be done. It was a good way to end a busy day.

That night, George read from Matthew chapter six. She listened carefully, enjoying the words. She liked the idea of not having to worry about anything as long as she put God first in her life. After George was finished reading, she asked, "Do you think that's really true?"

George raised an eyebrow. "Do I think what's true?"

"That we really don't need to worry about anything as long as we put God first in our lives." Millie had never heard those verses and liked what they meant. Not having to worry about anything would make her life so much better. Could she really trust God to provide her with what she needed?

He sighed. "I do think it's true. I don't think it means we won't have hardship. My losing Martha goes to show we'll all have hardship. But God promises that he won't put more on us than we can bear."

She tilted her head to the side thinking about it. "So we shouldn't worry about where our next meal will come from as long as we worship God? So why do we even have to work? Or cook? Won't God provide?"

He grinned at her simplistic view of the scripture. "He will provide. Haven't you heard that 'God helps those who help themselves'? We can't sit around and wait for him to provide, though. We need to be hard workers. God expects husbands to provide for their families. That means I need to work to provide for you all. Just like you need to do your share by keeping our home clean and fixing the food I provide for our table."

She nodded. She'd always heard that's how it should be, but the new verses in Matthew had given her something new to think about as well.

"What are you working on there?" he asked, noticing for the first time she was busily sewing away at something and not mending.

"I'm making dresses for the girls." She smiled as she held up the pieces of fabric on her lap. "This one is for Patience." She was proud of how much work she'd already gotten done on the dresses. She hoped he'd be pleased with them.

An angry look passed over George's face, and he took a deep breath. "Millie, I told you we didn't have money for fabric for clothes for the girls right now. Did you put it on an account at the store?" His voice was mild, but she could see how angry he was.

"No." She shook her head emphatically. "I brought fabric with me to make some dresses for myself. Now that I'm here, I can see I don't need more dresses than what I already have, so I decided to use the fabric to make dresses for the girls." She was hurt that he thought she'd deliberately disobeyed him like that.

"I'm sorry. I just automatically assumed the worst and I shouldn't have. Thank you for being willing to use something you'd earmarked for yourself for my girls."

"It's for our girls, and I don't mind using the fabric for them. They need the clothes a lot more than I do."

He reached across the table and put the dress pieces she was still clutching onto the table and took both of her hands in his. "Will you forgive me for assuming the worst about you?"

She nodded smiling. "Of course, I do. How could you trust me when I came out here under false pretenses?" She was happy he was holding her hands for the first time. Did that mean he was starting to love her as she loved him? Her eyes widened. Did she love him? She hadn't realized it, but she did. She loved this gruff, godly man who put his children above everything else in life. How could she not?

"I've forgiven you for that. I need to stop dwelling on it."

"You have?" He hadn't told her he'd forgiven her. Hearing him say so sent a small thrill through her. Their marriage was getting closer to working out every day.

"Of course, I have. How could I trust you with my children otherwise?"

"Thank you for giving me the chance to prove to you I can be a good mother to them." She promised herself then the children would never want for anything she could provide. If it meant giving them the food she was about to eat, she would do it.

He smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Millie. You're making my life a lot easier with your presence." He still missed Martha, and felt like he was betraying her by letting another woman come into her home and take her place, though. But he didn't have a choice. Their children needed a mother, and Martha would see things the same way he did. He needed to remember to thank Agnes for her meddling at church on Sunday morning.
Chapter Seven

Millie carefully followed the instructions for sugar cookies the next morning while George was in the field with the boys. She kept smiling to herself, feeling that she and George had a real breakthrough in their relationship the night before.

Patience helped mix the dough, while Grace ate small pieces of it, giggling the whole time. By the time the cookies were finished, Grace's face and bib were covered with dough. Millie laughed as she took a cloth and wiped off her face and hands.

Millie thought Patience was looking forward to having a guest as much as she was. Patience told her Martha had never wanted anyone to come over and visit. The only time she'd ever seen outsiders before her mother died was when they went to town for church.

Millie knew she was as different from Martha as night and day. She liked to have other people around, although not too many at once. Once the lunch dishes were done, Millie brought the fresh milk up from the cellar and set it on the table. She put out a plate of the cookies and some small plates for serving.

Both of the little ones were down for a nap, so she sat at the table working on the dress for Patience while she waited for Bess to arrive. She'd given Patience two pieces to sew together, showing her how to take the small stitches necessary for a pretty garment.

Millie had the door standing open as they worked. There was no sound of an approaching horse, just suddenly a head popping in the door. "Hello?"

Millie jumped up. "Come in! We've been expecting you." She indicated the chair at the head of the table. "Have a seat. I hope you don't mind if I keep sewing while we chat. I'm trying to get new dresses made for the girls before Sunday morning."

"Oh! New spring dresses. That's a beautiful pattern," she said pointing to the fabric. It was a pale pink with small flowers of different colors woven in. Millie had fallen in love with it as soon as she saw it. She'd cut into it first, so she wouldn't be tempted to keep it for herself. The girls needed new dresses more than she did.

"They do look like good spring and summer dresses, don't they?" She smiled down at the dress taking shape in her hands. She would be proud of her girls wearing these to church on Sundays. They were going to be beautiful. "Would you like some milk and cookies? I baked the cookies fresh this morning."

"I'd love some." Bess's eyes lit up as she responded. She was such a sweet, friendly girl that Millie found herself drawn to her more and more.

"Are you from around here, or did you move here after you married?" Millie asked her. She poured them milk and served cookies, making sure to include Patience by serving her some as well.

Patience set down the pieces of dress she was working on basting together and picked up a cookie, taking a tiny bite off of one side. All her attention was focused on Bess and Millie and the conversation they were having.

Bess sighed. "I grew up here. I met John at church, and we courted for a while. I've lived in this same little town my whole life."

Millie smiled. "I think it's a beautiful little town. Where I lived, in Boston, it was dirty. No one really seemed to care about anyone else. The crowds in the city were terrible. I'm so glad to be here where it's so fresh and clean all the time."

Bess tilted her head to the side as if considering her new friend's words. "I never thought of it that way. I guess it would be fun to see a place like that, but I don't know if I'd want to live there." She took a bite of the cookie. "Was it fun being a mail order bride? I don't think I could agree to marry someone sight unseen like that. I'd be too scared."

"I was fortunate. I ended up with a good man who treats me well and four wonderful children." She paused taking a sip of the milk in front of her. "I don't think I'd have done it if I hadn't had to, though. I was raised in an orphanage and they require you to leave when you turn eighteen. I really didn't have a choice."

Bess's eyes widened. "Do you know of any other girls who will forced to leave soon?"

"I do! My closest friend there, Charlotte, will be eighteen in a few months. I need to write her, but I haven't sat down without work to do for long enough to write anyone."

Bess looked at her speculatively. "John's younger brother comes to my house for dinner every night. He's twenty-two, but there really aren't any eligible girls. We should fix them up. He can't afford to pay a broker, but he could pay for her fare out here and give her a small clothing allowance."

Millie smiled. "That's a fabulous idea! I'll write to her as soon as I get a chance."

They spent the afternoon chatting, munching on cookies, and Millie kept sewing as fast as she could make her needle go. She wanted to finish the dresses up as fast as she could. As she sat and talked with her new friend, she realized that she much preferred the life she was living to the one she'd daydreamed about on the way to Minnesota. The only thing missing for her was the love of her husband. Hopefully that would come in time.

After a couple of hours, Bess stood. "I need to get home to put supper on the table. John gets cranky when he comes in from the fields and his meal isn't waiting for him." She paused for a moment with a grin. "So does his brother James."

Millie's eyes widened. "So does George! I've only done it once, but it wasn't pretty."

Bess laughed. "It won't be the last time. Sometimes I get so carried away with what I'm doing, I just plain forget about dinner."

"That's how it happened with me, too. I guess I'm not the worst wife alive."

Bess shook her head, her brown eyes sparkling. "No more than I am. We'll get better with time, I'm sure."

Millie stood and walked with Bess to the edge of the clearing, hugging her tightly. "Thank you for coming over. Please drop by anytime."

Bess smiled. "You'll get sick of me soon. I promise!" She pointed in the direction of her house. "You can't see it from here, but I live about a mile that way. You and the children are welcome to visit anytime."

Millie smiled. "If I ever get caught up on all my chores, I'll do that."

She went back into the house and fixed dinner for her family, grateful she'd come out here to live with a good man and was making some new friends. God was surely watching out for her.

As soon as she thought those words, she was surprised. She'd never before thought about God being a person who was actively interested in her life. To her, he'd always been some far off, distant figure who didn't care about her one way or the other. Maybe that was why George didn't think she was a Christian. Maybe Christians thought of God as an active force in their lives as she was beginning to do.

She contemplated God and her growing relationship with him as she cooked and all through dinner. She'd never had an active prayer life, but now found herself thinking maybe she needed a more solid relationship with her Father. Should she ask George about it? Or should her relationship with Him be a private thing just between them?

For now, she decided to keep it to herself. She would continue to pray when she felt the urge, and maybe she'd develop the kind of Father/daughter relationship with God that she'd seen so many others enjoy. She saw clearly now that simply going to church did not make her a Christian.

After the dishes were done, and the children in bed, she sat down with the almost finished dress she was making for Patience. She bowed her head for George's prayer for their Bible study, and this time she silently added a few words of her own. "Father, help me to make this information my own. Help me to be a good Christian wife, and to understand what you require of your people. I want to worship you the right way."

When she raised her head, she saw George looking at her speculatively. She smiled and nodded toward the Bible, ready to listen to God's words for her.

When he was finished reading the chapter, George closed the Bible and took her hand in his once again. "You're becoming a better wife and mother every day, Millie. I'm really proud of how far you've come in such a short time."

Millie blushed at his praise. "Thank you. I'm doing my very best."

"I'll never ask you for anything more than that."
Chapter Eight

Sunday morning, Millie rose early to make pancakes for her family. She smiled on her way to the henhouse happy to be able to provide a special breakfast for her family. She'd brought the molasses up from the cellar the previous night, so they could have it with their pancakes this morning.

She waited until the batter was mixed and the skillet heated before waking George. She knocked lightly on his door and he jumped out of bed and went to do the milking. Once the pancakes were finished, she woke the children and they all had a leisurely breakfast, talking about what special things they'd like to do with it being Sunday.

"Could we go on a picnic, Papa? We used to go to the lake every Sunday," Patience asked wistfully.

George looked at Millie. "Do you think you could have everything ready for a picnic before we leave for church this morning?"

She nodded. "That sounds like fun. I haven't been on a picnic in ages." They'd tried to do one big outing like a picnic every summer while she'd live at the orphanage, but it would be so different to go with her new family.

After she and Patience had finished with the lunch dishes, she packed a basket with bread, jam, and a jar of fruit, along with plates and utensils and a jar of fresh milk. They'd have a regular feast down on the banks of the lake.

Millie was happy to help her girls into their new dresses for the first time. She saw a few tiny flaws, but she smiled as she brushed their dresses flat. They looked beautiful. She put a pink ribbon in Patience's pretty blond hair and a blue ribbon in Grace's red hair. They looked so good in their matching dresses. Grace spun to let her skirt flair out around her. "I look like Sissy!"

Millie laughed. "You do look like Sissy!" The pleasure on Grace's face from wearing a new dress made Millie want to hurry the other dresses so they would have three new dresses apiece. She wanted the best for those two little girls who already owned such a large piece of her heart.

Millie sat still and paid careful attention during the sermon that week. The sermon touched her heart in a surprising way. It was about how God had sent his only son to die for her sins. Millie thought about that as she listened. He hadn't done it just for people who were good. He'd done it for her, too. She knew then she wanted to spend the rest of her life doing what was right. Not because it would make the people around her happy, because it would make God happy, and after all he'd done for her, she had to do what He wanted.

After the service, George drove them down an old dirt road to the banks of a small lake. She spread the quilt she'd brought and fixed plates for everyone while George played with the children in the tall grasses. She smiled as she listened to the children's laughter, remembering her first day with her new family. She'd wondered that day if they were able to smile. Now their laughter warmed her heart.

They all gathered together on the quilt and George said a quick prayer for them. As they ate, George asked the children about the sermon. They all talked about what had stood out most for them.

"What stood out for you, Millie?" George asked her.

She smiled. "What really touched me was the fact that God sent Jesus to die for my sins. Not just yours. Not just faceless people who always do what's right. He did it for me, even though I'm a sinner. He loved me enough that He wanted to save me. Even though he knows I'm not worthy." Her eyes shone with tears and her voice was filled with awe as she said it.

George reached out and took her hand. "You understand now."

She nodded happily. "I'm so sorry I lied to you, George. You have my word it will never happen again."

He smiled and kissed the back of her hand tenderly. "I believe you. I'm so glad you understand what God wants from us."

Patience watched her new ma with her papa and wondered what had just happened between them. She wasn't sure why, but somehow she knew that everything would be all right from then on.

That night, after the children were put in bed, George didn't get down the Bible as he usually did. Instead, he sat down at the table with Millie and talked to her about her decision to serve God. They talked for hours about how it feels to be saved by Christ's sacrifice.

"I understand now why you wanted a wife who is a Christian. If you don't share something so basic, there can never be real peace in your home."

He smiled. "You're right. I'm so glad the sermon touched you like it did today."

She shook her head. "It wasn't the sermon that made me feel this way."

He gave her a questioning look. "What was it then?"

"It was the way you so calmly and patiently read the Bible to me each evening. That night when you read Matthew chapter six to me, I truly understood what it meant to be a Christian. To not worry overmuch about all the little things. I was so worried about how it would look for me to take the girls in public with their dresses too short. I thought it would reflect badly on me." She paused, looked down at her fingers entwined with his on the table. "Then suddenly it all made sense. Sure, the girls needed new dresses, but they weren't more important than obeying you and doing what was right. God would take care of those things. And he has."

They talked long into the night discussing the future and what they wanted for their lives.

"I was afraid to get too close to you for fear you would want to go back to Boston, or run off with the first young man you saw. Now that you're a Christian, I can let my feelings for you grow."

She looked at him shyly. "You have feelings for me?"

He laughed. "You're a beautiful young girl, both inside and out. I'd have to be made of stone not to have feelings for you. Of course, I do." He took a deep breath. "I've come to love you in the time you've been here. I can't imagine what my life would be like without you in it."

"Does that mean that someday we can have a real marriage? And children of our own?"

He nodded. "I wasn't sure if you'd want more children. Four is already a handful at times."

She shook her head. "The children are a joy. I can't think of anything I want more than a few more to add to the ones we already have."

He stood then, and pulled her gently to him, dipping his head to brush a kiss across her lips. "I'd be proud to have you for a real wife."

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "When I first got here I kept telling myself if I worked hard and you saw the children liked me, then maybe you could start to like me too."

"I always liked you. I just couldn't trust having deep feelings for a woman who wasn't a Christian." He took a deep breath. "You understand now why I didn't think you were a Christian when you got here?"

She nodded, her head rubbing against his shoulder. "A real Christian wouldn't have lied to you just to make her own life better. I really did think I was a Christian, because I'd gone to church every Sunday. I truly didn't understand the difference. Now I do."

He smiled down at her. "I'm so glad."

"Thank you for being patient with me. And thank you for loving me. I'm going to be the best wife you could possibly imagine."

He smiled. "Just be yourself and you'll be the woman I love."

"I love you, too, George."

Chapter Nine

We've been married four months today, Millie thought to herself as she put dinner on the table. Her life had changed so much. The house was now spotless at all times. Dinners were much easier to deal with, because she rarely had to look at her recipes for help.

And the children. Grace was potty trained now, and her life was much easier as a result. And it was a good thing. She was going to need those diapers again in a few months. Her hand went to rest on her still-flat stomach as she thought about it. She'd have to tell him tonight, she thought. Should she tell him alone, or tell them all at dinner tonight?

It had been over three months since she'd moved into George's room with him. She was happier than she'd ever dreamed she could be, but not only because of the love she and George shared, or because of the children. There was a peace in her faith that was different than anything she'd ever experienced.

After George's prayer before dinner, she decided to tell him in her own way. "We need to make some changes in our seating arrangements around the table soon."

George looked at the children. They were all eating happily. There didn't seem to be any problems to him. "Why's that?"

"We're going to need to have a chair for Grace, so the new baby can sit in her highchair," she said with a grin.

George's eyes opened wide and his lips spread wide in a grin. "Really?"

She nodded. "Really. We're about to become a family of seven." The excitement filled her voice as she said the words. She couldn't believe she was actually going to have a child of her own.

George sighed contentedly. "I can't wait to add one more."

"You're not worried about the new mouth to feed?"

"Matthew chapter six tells us to keep seeking first his kingdom and all those other things will be added to us. So no, I'm not worried at all. Are you?"

She shook her head. "Not as long as we're going to do it together." She smiled at him with all the love that filled her heart.

Patience looked from her papa to Millie. "Are you really going to have a baby, Mama?"

Millie felt the tears prick her eyes. The little ones had been calling her Mama almost from the first, but that was the first time Patience had called her that. "Yes, we are. In about seven months."

Patience smiled. "I can't wait. What will we name her?"

Millie smiled. "Well, I don't know if it will be a girl, but if it is, I like the name Faith. That's what being here has given me. Faith."

George nodded. "Faith. Patience, Grace and Faith. It fits beautifully."

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