Sarah_Bride of Minnesota Read online

  Your future husband,

  Karl

  Sarah turned the sheet of paper over, willing more words to appear. Was that really all he'd said to her? There had to be more!

  She sighed, realizing that no amount of wishing would change the letter, so she got up to go and see Roberta, knowing that her friend must have gotten her letter from her potential groom as well. Bobbie rarely received letters. Her parents still lived in Lawrence, even though neither of them had anything to do with her any longer.

  After a moment of talking, they knew that they'd be taking the same train all the way to Colby, Wisconsin. After that, though, Sarah would be on trains for many hours longer. She would never be able to see her friend after the trip, which made her sad.

  She had to be strong though, for Bobbie. Throughout the past month, when everyone had been scrambling trying to find new jobs or somewhere to go, Bobbie had been strong for everyone.

  They packed together that night, having only two days before they must leave for their new lives. Hopefully they would both marry good men. It seemed as if God approved of what they were doing, so they would continue along the path they'd started down.

  *****

  Sarah enjoyed the train ride very much. She'd only been on a train once before in her life, and that had been when they'd gone to see Elizabeth Miller. This time, she was able to soak in the scenery, and the two women sewed together the whole way.

  They whispered through the nights, leaning on each other. Fifteen years before, neither of them had ever dreamed what was happening to them would ever occur. They were going to be parted. How did a woman go on without her lifelong friend?

  They said a heartfelt goodbye in Colby, Wisconsin, and Sarah got off the train, looking down at her second ticket. She had to wait two hours before her next train arrived, and it was late at night. She didn't feel safe.

  A young lady came and sat beside her. "Are you waiting for your train?" the woman asked.

  Sarah nodded. "Yes, I'm taking a train to St. Paul and then to Duluth."

  "Oh, I'm going as far as St. Paul. It's a nice city."

  Sarah felt her heart drop. It would have been nice to already know someone from her new home. "I'm going to be a mail-order bride in Duluth," Sarah whispered, feeling as if it was something to be ashamed of. She hadn't felt that way when Bobbie had talked about it, but now that she was on her own, things were changing. People would think she couldn't find a man, when the truth was, she'd never really looked for one.

  "Really?" the girl asked, her eyes wide. "I'm Samantha. I can't imagine being a mail-order bride. Aren't you scared?"

  Sarah sighed, nodding. "I'm Sarah, and yes, I'm a bit frightened, but I know God will take care of me."

  "Do you think God takes care of you even when you choose to do stupid things?" Samantha asked. "I mean, if you stepped in front of a stagecoach, do you think God would save you?"

  Sarah shook her head. "No, I don't think He would. But I prayed to Him before I made my decision and again when I got my train ticket. I think He wants me to do this."

  "What's his name?"

  "Karl Schneider. I know very little about him except that he's a German immigrant." Sarah had been raised by Irish immigrants, and she knew that people who had the courage to come to America from other countries tended to be stronger, and more romantic. At least her parents were.

  "I wish you the best," Samantha said, squeezing her hand. "I'm getting married as well, but I'm going home to do it. My fiancé, Richard, and I are going to marry next Saturday. I took a trip to see my ailing grandmother before the wedding, because I just don't know how much I'll be able to travel after the wedding."

  "Not much, probably," Sarah said with a smile. "Men seem to like to keep their wives close. How did you meet your beau?"

  "His younger sister was a schoolmate. I went to her house after school a lot with a friend of mine, and he was always there. We started courting about a year ago, and my father has finally agreed that we may marry."

  "Your father was against it?" Sarah asked with surprise. Her family had always placed such an emphasis on love and marriage that it was hard for her to imagine her father denying her the right to marry. Mary had been courting from the time she was fifteen.

  "Oh yes. He thinks that women should not even think about courtship and marriage until they're eighteen. I'll be seventeen the day before our wedding."

  Sarah frowned. "Oh, you're very young to marry. I'm twenty-two, and I'm not sure I'm old enough yet." She did like the idea though. A man who was just hers, who would sing to her, and go for long walks with her at night. What more could a woman ask for?

  Samantha laughed. "I'm looking forward to keeping my own house. I always knew I wanted to marry young."

  The two women talked during their long wait until their train pulled into the station. Once the train began to move, Sarah could no longer keep her eyes open. Why, she'd been awake for days, talking to Bobbie all night every night so they wouldn't waste a minute of their last days together.

  Samantha shook her awake in St. Paul. "It's time for you to change trains," she said sweetly. They had exchanged addresses, planning to keep up a correspondence.

  "Oh, thank you. I hope God blesses you greatly in your marriage." Sarah hugged the younger girl as the two of them hurried to get off the train.

  Sarah stood on the platform looking around her, wishing this was her final destination. As she watched, Samantha was greeted by a young man who was smiling and hugged her close.

  Would Karl greet her like that? Well, if he tried, she wouldn't let him. Kisses and hugs like that were meant for a married couple, not for a couple about to be married.

  When she climbed onto her next train, she stared out the window, her mind conjuring up images of her future husband. He said he was tall with blond hair, but in her mind, he had a big smile. He sang softly to her, and whirled her around, dancing close with her in the privacy of their home.

  He would tell her she was beautiful, and always display the best manners, opening doors for her, and holding out her chair. Her Karl would be perfect. Immigrants were like that.

  She fell asleep again with a smile on her lips. She would meet her Karl soon, and they would immediately fall in love and live happily ever after.

  Chapter Two

  Karl grumbled under his breath as he stood in the cold at the train station, waiting for his bride. It had been a long, difficult day. One of his men hadn't been paying attention, and he'd managed to drop his axe on his foot. The axe had cut through his thick boot, and made a big slice into his foot. Thankfully he hadn't lost any toes, but Karl had lost a great deal of work time taking him to the doctor. Clumsiness was inexcusable in his line of work.

  Karl and his brother were lumber barons, each with a lumber camp on their side of Lake Superior. Once a week one of them would row across the St. Louis Bay to see the other and they would discuss any business matters, but except for holidays, that was the only time they were able to see each other.

  Normally after a difficult day like that, he would be able to work late, so there would be nothing extra to do the next day, but tonight, he was meeting his bride. He sighed when he thought about her. She sounded like a good Christian woman, which had been his only real requirement for marriage.

  She was coming to him as a mail-order bride, so he was certain that she would be hideous. Why else would a woman have to resort to marrying a stranger? Why, even ugly women married. She must be disfigured in some way to be willing to travel all that way and marry a man she'd never seen.

  He wanted a pretty bride as much as the next man, but more importantly to him, she had to be godly. If the woman was godly, he could overlook her face. He was sure of it.

  He braced himself as the train pulled into the station. His eyes scanned the small group of people who got off the train, only about ten of them, looking for an ugly woman, and he could find no one. Had his Sarah decided not to come then?

  Just when he'd decide
d to give up and go home, a pretty young lady had approached him. "Are you Karl?" she asked, her voice beautiful.

  He nodded once. "Did Sarah send you?"

  Sarah frowned. "Send me? I am Sarah." She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

  "But—you're not ugly."

  Sarah blinked a few times, trying to follow his train of thought. "No, I've never been called ugly. Is there a reason you want me to be?" Had the man lost his mind? She thought men usually wanted a pretty wife—Was Karl the exception?

  He shook his head, trying to understand why she was so much different than he'd expected. "I didn't think a pretty woman would ever agree to be a mail-order bride."

  Sarah gaped at him for a moment, wanting to hit him. She'd stepped off the train humming one of her favorite Irish love songs, expecting to find a man who would sing her praises. She'd wanted to be swept off her feet and told she was pretty—but not in an accusing way. What was wrong with being pretty?

  "My circumstances were such that I needed a place to go in a hurry. Does it bother you that I'm not ugly?" she asked softly.

  He shook his head, taking her bags from her and striding away from her, toward his wagon. He was attracted to her, and he hadn't expected that. He'd thought they'd be able to easily settle into married life, because he would need nothing from her in the way of affection—only the things all men asked of their wives.

  He put her things in the back of the wagon, before helping her up. "We can't marry tonight, because the pastor won't marry anyone past eleven. He's sleeping."

  "Oh, well—where will I stay then? It wouldn't be appropriate for us to stay under the same roof." Sarah felt panicked at the mere idea. So far, he'd been a disappointment to her, but he was a man and she was a woman. They had to avoid even the appearance of wrong-doing.

  "There's a boarding house on Fourth Street, next door to my home. The woman running it promised me she'd wait up for you. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine for our wedding. I want to get it over with early so I can put in a full day of work."

  And there it was. She was little more than an inconvenience to him. She said a silent prayer that she wouldn't lose her temper with the big oaf.

  He pulled up in front of a large house and ran around the wagon, helping her down. She wanted to refuse his help, but she knew she would choose that moment to tangle her foot in her skirt and fall into the mud. It was the sort of thing she did when she was being stubborn.

  "Thank you," she said stiffly, waiting as he got her bags for her. They walked up to the house together and the door opened before she had a chance to knock.

  "Oh, come in!" the kind-looking old woman said. She put a hand in the middle of Karl's chest when he went to follow Sarah inside. "Not you! Men do not come into this house, Karl Schneider. Go home and come back in the morning. You know better!" She shut the door in his face, and turned to Sarah. "I've fixed you a tub of hot water in the kitchen. I will stand guard while you bathe. Traveling on a train for days on end makes you feel like you're covered in filth."

  Sarah wanted to hug her. "Oh, thank you so much. I'm Sarah, by the way. Sarah Brody."

  "It's nice to meet you, Miss Brody. I can't believe Karl was thoughtful enough to bring you here tonight. The man thinks like a German, and there isn't a romantic bone in his body. Did he think to take you out for a meal on the way? Did he even tell you that you're pretty?"

  Sarah laughed. "You must know Karl well. He didn't take me for a meal, but he did tell me I look pretty. He said it as if it makes him angry that I'm pretty, though. It was more of an accusation than anything else."

  The woman shook her head. "That boy needs to have someone take a switch to him. He's ridiculous."

  "It sounds like you've known him for a long time."

  "Oh, yes. He moved here as soon as his parents died, which was right about nine years ago. He's a hard-working, determined man, and he's smart, but he doesn't know how to treat a woman. He lives next door, and I've been making his meals for years."

  "Which house is his?"

  "How did I guess he wouldn't think to show you his house? Don't you worry, Miss Brody. I'll take good care of you tonight, and when you need to talk to someone about that idiot you married so you don't strangle him, you come right over and talk to Mrs. Norman."

  Sarah smiled as the woman left her alone in the kitchen with the steaming hot tub of water. She felt as if it had been six months since she'd bathed instead of a few days. She quickly stripped and sank into the hot water, so thankful she had an ally in this strange place.

  She frowned, disappointed. Her parents had always had special nicknames for each other, and her father would walk a mile out of town just to pick flowers for her mother after a long day at work. She'd grown up around romance and love. Now, she'd sentenced herself to a life without either. Oh, how she wished she'd been smart enough to marry an Irishman like her friend Victoria. Why, an Irishman would be romantic and sweet.

  It wasn't being an immigrant that made you romantic at all. It was the Irish blood. And, God help her, she'd agreed to marry a German.

  She went to bed after a bath and a hot meal, with the promise that Mrs. Norman would wake her in plenty of time to get ready for her wedding in the morning. She'd expected to spend the night tossing and turning, but her days of sleeplessness were catching up with her, and she fell right to sleep.

  *****

  Sarah helped with the cooking and the dishes the next morning, her way of thanking Mrs. Norman for her kindness. The house had five girls living there, and she was the only one offering to help which surprised Sarah a great deal. Obviously those girls had not been raised correctly.

  After the dishes were done, Mrs. Norman asked, "Would you like me to fix your hair for the wedding? I know the service will be small, but wouldn't it be nice to know that it looked special? Before my girls married, I fixed their hair for them all the time. I'm quite good at it."

  Sarah nodded. "Oh that would be lovely. Let me go and change into the dress I plan to be married in, and then I'll come back down and you can do my hair for me. I appreciate your willingness to help so much. It's not every day a woman marries a stranger in a town where she knows no one."

  Mrs. Norman smiled at her, shooing her up the stairs to her room with her hand. "Hurry up. We only have forty-five minutes before that man of yours comes to take you away."

  Once Sarah was dressed, she hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. She'd brought her bags down with her. "I changed the sheets on my bed, and cleaned my room. It looks like it did when I arrived."

  "Where did you leave the sheets?" Mrs. Norman asked, obviously pleased at Sarah's thoughtfulness.

  "I put them in a small pile in the corner of the room, so you could just take them and be ready for someone else to move in right away."

  "You're a good girl, Sarah Brody. I'm so glad we'll be neighbors."

  Mrs. Norman had Sarah sit in a chair and she went to work on her long brown hair. She carefully pinned it up, giving Sarah an old-fashioned feminine look. It was a far cry from the bun Sarah usually wore her hair in.

  "So tell me why you traveled all the way from the East to marry that big German."

  "Do you dislike Germans?" Sarah asked, wondering why the woman kept stressing Karl's ethnicity.

  "Oh not at all. My first husband was German, God rest his soul. He was a good hard-working man, and I loved him. But if it was left up to him, there would never have been a tiny bit of romance in our marriage."

  "Oh, I see," Sarah said, finally really understanding. "Well, in answer to your question, I lost my job, because of a fire, and needed to go somewhere." She briefly explained what had happened, leaving out the part about Bob Brown, the former owner of the factory. She had no proof he'd started the fire, though it was obvious to her, and she couldn't gossip about his character that way.

  "So where did this friend of yours end up?"

  "Wisconsin," Sarah said with a sigh. "I'm going to miss her terribly."

>   "Wisconsin's not so far, depending on what part she's in. You'll still be able to see each other on occasion."

  "That's our hope." Sarah reached back and patted Mrs. Norman's hand. "I'm glad I'll have you close by. One can never have enough lifelong friends."

  When her hair was finished Sarah rushed to see it in a mirror, turning her head this way and that to better see it. "I like it. Thank you so much!"

  "Now, don't expect too much from Karl in the way of compliments. The man needs a manual on how to court his wife."

  Sarah grinned. She really hoped the woman was trying to set her expectations low, but she suspected that wasn't the case.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Mrs. Norman rushed to answer it. "Hello, Karl. She's ready." She looked over her shoulder at Sarah. "You come here anytime you want. I'd be so happy to give a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. Or just be your friend."

  Sarah hugged the older woman tightly. "Thank you for showing me that I'm not all alone here. I'll be back soon. And you come visit me anytime you want."

  She picked up her bags to carry them to the door, and Karl took them from her as soon as she got to him.

  Karl led her back to the wagon, and she climbed up with his help. "Are we going straight to the pastor?"

  "We are, and then I'll take you to lunch and then home. I need to get to work. I have to row across the bay to meet with my brother this morning."

  "Why? Is that safe?"

  "Oh yes, I do it twice a month, and twice a month he comes here. We are business partners and that's the only time we meet."

  "Oh, I see. What do you do?" Sarah was struck by the fact that she was sitting beside a man she hadn't spoken more than one hundred words to, she didn't know what he did for a living, and she was on her way to marry him. What was she thinking?

  "I run a lumber camp. My brother runs a lumber camp on the other side of the bay. Together, we float the logs across the river and my men put them on trains going out West. There are so many wide open prairies there, and not enough wood to meet the needs of the people."