Free The Springtime Mail Order Bride by Kit Morgan

smiled at the memory, and bit her lower lip to stifle a giggle. “Pie it is then. But not cherry.” Yet the thought of pie didn’t seem right, and she wanted the first meal cooked for her new husband to be special.  “Ahhhh, I know just the thing.”  Samijo wiped her hands on the apron, got up, and set to work again.
    She had just taken the chicken out of the oven, and put the dessert in, when Ma came into the kitchen.  “Land sakes! What’s that smell?”
    Samijo froze and stared at her. “Er, ah … supper?”
    “Of course it is, but what is it? It smells wonderful.”
    Samijo’s shoulders slumped in relief.  It Uncle Burr didn’t like something he usually tossed her into the attic.  She was going to have to keep reminding herself she did not marry her uncle, and that the Weaver family wasn’t anything like him. “I’m glad you think so. I found the recipe years ago in a cookbook that belonged … come to think of it, I’m not sure who it belonged to. A Mrs. Porter I think, but I can’t remember who she is.”
    “Doesn’t matter I suppose, what does is that you write the recipe down for me.  Those boys of mine are going to gobble it up.”
    Samijo blushed. She hoped so. She also wondered how often she’d be cooking for the entire family.  She knew she was to keep an eye on Ma for a couple of days, but the woman seemed to be in good shape, other than a hack or two. She might find herself cooking for her husband in her new home sooner than she thought.
    The kitchen door opened, startling her, and she jumped. “Oh my!”
    “You’ll have to get used to them running in and out, but it’s usually right around meal times,” Ma explained. “I can keep track of the time by when that door swings open.”
    Samijo chuckled at her remark, turned to face Calvin and immediately saw the bruise on his right jaw. He stared at her, his mouth hanging open, before he shut it and pressed his lips together. “Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked.
    He looked at his mother, then back to Samijo. “I … I came to tell you I’m sorry.”
    She cocked her head to one side in curiosity. “Sorry? Whatever for?”
    “For scaring the daylights out of ya, and … well … almost getting ya killed.”
    “Killed?” his mother cried. “Calvin Weaver, what are you talking about?”
    “I done used my slingshot to spook the horses. They took off running the rest of the way into the valley. Arlan wasn’t happy about it.”
    Now it was Samijo’s turn to stare. “ You did that? You scared those horses on purpose?”
    “I didn’t mean t o, I was trying to hit Arlan, but I hit one of the horse’s rumps instead.”
    “Oh goodness,” she said and turned, her arms wrapped aro und her stomach. “Your brother was right, you did scare me to death.”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Honest.”
    She looked at him and nodded, but thoughts began to run through her mind. What ever possessed him to do such a foolish thing? Was this the sort of behavior she should expect from Calvin and his brothers? Had Mrs. Gunderson’s warning to her back at the stage stop just been validated?  Or had the woman been exaggerating?
    “You better be sorry, you could have hurt both Samijo and your brother. Maybe he should’ve given you a black eye!” his mother chastised.
    “It won’t happen again, M a.”
    “See that it doesn’t. Now go wash up for supper.”
    Calvin trudged out of the kitchen via the back door, and disappeared. Samijo had noticed a water pump on her way out to the smokehouse, and knew he was going to use it to wash his hands. He was probably too embarrassed to wash up in front of her.  Guilt didn’t always wash away so easy.
    “Those boys!” Ma exclaimed. “One of these days their pranks are gonna get them in a heap of trouble.”
    “Pranks?”
    “Oh honey, you have no idea.  But Arlan will learn ya on how to deal with them. Mark my words.”
    Samijo gave her a weak smile. Apparently Mrs.