When night began to fall, Parker drove the wagon off the road and parked it in a grassy dell near a babbling brook. He and Prescott handed the three brides down from the wagon bed. Then Parker unhitched the horses, watered them at the stream, and tethered them to trees within reach of the grass.
The three brides limped away from the wagon. “Oh, I’ve never been so sore in all my life!” Maggie groaned, flinging herself down on the ground. “I don’t care what you say, Parker. I’m going to ride in the seat next to you tomorrow. I can’t stand another day of riding on those hard boards.”
Parker frowned. “And what about Marion and Melody? Where are they going to ride?”
“Oh, they’ll be all right,” she flipped her hand toward the other two women. “They’re country girls. They’re tough. They can handle that kind of thing. I’m sure they won’t mind riding in the back the way they did today.”
“That’s not exactly fair, is it?” Parker growled. “If anyone has to ride in the back, then all of you should.”
“I can’t,” she retorted. “I can’t, and I won’t. I’m riding up front.”
Parker furrowed his eyebrows, but didn’t argue any further. Watching them, Marion felt sorry for Parker. He would have as much difficulty being married to Maggie as she would have being married to him. Two people couldn’t be more different than those two. Some cruel trick of fate brought them together to torment one another for the rest of their lives.
And to think they would spend several months of every year locked together in an isolated mountain cabin with no outside contact. Marion watched Paul unsaddle his horse and tie it up with the others. Perhaps she and Paul were likewise destined to cause each other grief in the years to come.
Parker gathered a few bundles of sticks and built a fire. Maggie sat next to it. Prescott brought a black iron pot from the box on the back of the wagon. He set it down next to the fire.
Melody snatched up the pot and carried it off to the stream, where she filled it, brought it back, and set it in the coals. Marion watched her appreciatively. Then she noticed Paul and Parker standing together near the tethered horses, watching Melody as well. Melody glanced up and saw the party observing her. She graced them with a bashful smile and sat down next to Maggie.
Paul reached into the wagon and drew out a long rifle. He propped the barrel over his shoulder and stalked out of the clearing. The three mail-order brides stared after him.
“Your brother there,” Maggie nodded after Paul. “He doesn’t say very much, does he?”
Prescott squatted down by the fire and tossed sticks into the flames. “He talks plenty when he wants to. The truth is he didn’t want to get a mail-order bride at all. He didn’t want a wife.”
Marion sat down by Melody. “Why did he get one then?”
“Because of me,” Parker put in. “I’m the one who started all this.”
The three women stared at him. Parker gave a short laugh.
“I told both Prescott and Paul I was gonna get me a mail-order bride,” he related. “I told ‘em we couldn’t go on the way we were without a woman. I didn’t want to live out in the middle of nowhere with only my brothers for company one second longer. We’d done it for five years. That’s long enough, I’d say.”
No one made a peep.
“I was gonna get myself a wife, no matter what,” Parker continued. “But I told ‘em it wouldn’t work for one of us to get a woman and not the others. We’d get jealous of each other, or else maybe one of them wouldn’t like the woman I got. There would be fights. You can bet on that. So I said we should all get wives.”
“That makes sense,” Marion muttered.
“Paul was dead set against it,” Prescott added. “We’d got along just fine by ourselves. He didn’t think any of us needed a woman, and he thought it would cause no end of problems we never had before. I can see his point, too.”
“In the end,” Parker concluded, “I convinced both of ‘em that getting three mail-order brides, one for each of us, would cause fewer problems than one of us getting a bride and the others staying single. So I signed all three of us up with the Mail-Order Matrimony Service out of Cleveland.”
“It appears,” Marion speculated, “that Paul still hasn’t come around to the idea.”
“Don’t worry,” Parker declared, “he’ll come around.”
“I understand now,” Maggie remarked, “how the Service managed to assign us to each other. It appears they took your three applications and assigned three females to you at random.”
Parker cocked his head on one side. “Do you think so? I corresponded with your father several times before the Service let me know the match was definitely acceptable to your family.”
“I guess you’re right,” Maggie sighed. “My father took a special interest in making sure I found the right man. He said you were a good match because you were the oldest brother and likely to be the most responsible. Mr. Feldman, the executor of the Service, told my father that, of the three of Chapman brothers, Parker would be the best match for me. But I suppose you can make anybody look good on paper.”
Parker frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Marion jumped in to smooth the tension between them. “I think Maggie means that none of us is what we expected. It does seem that our three pairs were made without much forethought or insight into our characters and tastes. But we could hardly expect anything less from people who knew nothing about any of us.”
Parker and Maggie scowled at one another. Marion stared anxiously at the place where Paul stalked off into the trees. Prescott glanced sidelong at Melody, compressed his lips, and looked away.
“But look here,” Parker announced. “We don’t need to abide by the decisions of complete strangers. Why don’t we change our matches here and now?”
“What are you saying?” Maggie asked. “Are you suggesting we just toss the pairings the Service assigned to us by the wayside without a second thought?”
“Why not?” Parker replied. “It looks to me like none of us is very happy about our matches. Let’s talk it over and reshuffle ourselves into three different couples. We’ve got the rest of our lives to spend together. Let’s make sure each of us is matched with someone we can be happy with.”
Prescott’s face broke into a wicked grin. “I think it’s a capital idea.” He slapped his thigh with his hand and guffawed out loud. “By gum, I think it’s the best idea you’ve had all year, Parker. Let’s do it.”
Marion laughed nervously. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Anyone can see plain as day you aren’t happy about the idea of pairing with Paul,” Prescott pointed out. “Why don’t you come on with me instead?”
“What about Melody?” Marion asked.
“I like what I’ve seen of Melody since we picked you up,” Parker interjected. “I’ll go along with Melody.” He smiled at Melody and she beamed in return.
“And I like the look of Paul.” Maggie looked hungrily toward the trees. “I’ll go for him.”
“Are you sure about that, Maggie?” Marion inquired. “You just heard Parker tell us Paul doesn’t want a wife at all.”
“I’ll bring him around,” Maggie asserted. “Once I set my mind on something I want, I never fail to get it.” She cackled mischievously. “And I always liked the strong, silent type.”
“Well,” Parker clapped his hands. “It looks like we’re all much more satisfied with this arrangement.”
“Except for Paul,” Marion pointed out. “We haven’t gotten his approval for the new arrangement.”
“Here he comes now,” Prescott indicated the lanky figure striding through the trees. “We can tell him now.”
Paul broke through the tree line and approached the fire. He propped his rifle against a nearby tree and dropped a dead rabbit onto the ground. “Here’s your supper,” he announced.
Marion jumped up and seized the rabbit. “Let me clean it.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Prescott argued. “Paul can skin it and clean it himself. There’ll be plenty of work for you to do when we get to the cabin. You should relax and let us take care of you for once.”
“I want to do it,” Marion declared. “My brothers always shot rabbits on the farm, and I always skinned them and cleaned them and cooked them. We ate rabbit stew and rabbit pie at least twice a week at home.”
“Just so you know you don’t have to,” Prescott repeated.
“Here,” Paul reached into his belt. “Here’s a knife.”
“You’re a brute,” Prescott snarled at his brother. “You don’t know how to treat a lady.”
Paul snorted. He hooked his thumbs into his belt, leaned his shoulder against the tree, and grinned at Marion setting to work to skin the rabbit. “Don’t know and don’t care.”
“I’m glad to do it,” Marion insisted. “I’ve been sitting idle for two weeks. I’m happy to make myself useful.”
The three brothers watched Marion slice around the rabbit’s neck and feet. Then she peeled the whole skin off the carcass like a sock. While she worked, Melody strolled off into the undergrowth.
Marion held up the damp skin. “What can we stretch it on to dry? We don’t want to waste a perfectly good rabbit skin.”
Parker shook his head in wonderment. “That was well done. Anyone can see you’ve done it dozens of times.”
“I have,” Marion agreed.
“Here” Paul picked up his rifle and held it out to Marion. “Stretch it over the butt stock of my rifle. That’ll keep its shape while it dries, at least until we get home.”
“Do you know how to tan them, too?” Parker asked.
“Sure,” Marion answered. “Rabbit skin’s the best there is for keeping warm. My whole family wears rabbit skin boots and rabbit skin mittens and rabbit skin hats and rabbit skin coats all winter long.” She laughed out loud. “Anyone coming to our farm would think we were a bunch of rabbits.”
The brothers laughed along with her.
“Honestly, Marion,” Maggie chided. “You shouldn’t be so enthusiastic to show your poor background. Try to demonstrate a little more refinement.”
“You could do a lot worse than bein’ a rabbit,” Parker remarked. “I’d be more than happy bein’ a rabbit, wearing rabbit fur, and hiding in my burrow for the winter. If Marion will dress the furs for us, that is.”
Marion bowed her head to him, smiling broadly. “I’d be honored. Now, then, that’s the guts taken out.”
“Give ‘em to me,” Paul held out his hand. “I’ll chuck ‘em away from our camp.”
“That is so disgusting, Marion,” Maggie grimaced. “I don’t know how you can stand to touch that stuff.”
“I can stand to touch it,” Marion returned, “because I want to eat tonight. You don’t want to spend the night out here on an empty stomach, do you? I sure don’t.”
“The boys will have brought something for us to eat,” Maggie countered. She peered sidelong at Prescott. “Didn’t you?”
Prescott stared into the fire and didn’t answer her. Parker filled the silence. “We’ve got venison jerky, dried biscuits, and buckwheat flour for flapjacks. You can help yourself. Everything’s in the wagon box. Me, I’m looking forward to a nice hot rabbit stew.” He grinned at Marion.
“The water’s boiling,” Marion observed. “I’ll just quarter the carcass up and put it on to stew. Break up the coals, will you, Parker? Thank you. There. Now the pot will sit level on top of them.” Marion placed the lid over the steaming brew and sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.
Just then, Melody came back with a bunch of weeds dangling from her hand. She set the bundle down next to Marion and resumed her former seat. One quick glance at the plants told Marion what they were. “Oh, thanks, Melody.”
Marion picked a cluster of greens from the pile, lifted the lid off the pot, and began dicing the plant into the stew, roots and all.
“Hey!” Prescott cried out. “What’s the idea? What are you doing?”
Marion glanced up, but kept chopping the plants into the pot. “It’s wild carrot. Don’t you recognize it?”
Parker and Prescott looked at each other.
“And this one’s wild onion,” Marion informed them. “And this one here is salsify. It’s the perfect vegetable for any stew. I’m glad they’re growing wild out here. I wasn’t sure we’d have them.”
Parker scratched his head and whistled. “You ladies are sure gonna teach us a thing or two. I thought having a wife would be good for keeping the house clean and the bedding aired out, but I can see we got a lot more than we bargained for.”
Marion squeezed Melody’s hand, and the two women shared a smile.
. “Oh, by the way, Paul,” Prescott chimed in, “while you were away, we decided to change our matches around. I’m with Marion, Parker’s with Melody, and you’re with Maggie.”
Paul glanced around the circle of faces. “Is that so?”
Marion kept her head down. Maggie flashed him her most winning smile. His brothers watched him to gauge his reaction.
“Well,” he concluded, “I guess one woman’s the same as the next to me.”
“Good. Then it’s settled,” Maggie concluded.
By that time, full dark chilled the air, and the group huddled close by their fire. They dined on stewed rabbit, with many compliments to the cook, while they talked about their families and blinked the smoke out of their eyes.
Eventually, Maggie covered a yawn and glanced around at the darkness surrounding them. “Where are we going to sleep tonight?”
Paul stretched his long body out on the ground, tilted his hat over his face, and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I don’t know about you, but I’m sleepin’ right here.”
Parker stood up and brushed the dry grass from the seat of his pants. “We brought some blankets for you ladies. We don’t usually use them ourselves. They’re in the wagon box. I’ll get ‘em.” He brought out three coarse woolen army blankets and distributed one to each of the three women. “It’s liable to get cold tonight, but these’ll keep you warm.”
Parker leaned back on his elbow next to the fire and added another few sticks to the flames.
Marion and Melody began spreading their blankets out on the ground, side-by-side, and settling themselves on them for the night.
Maggie clutched her blanket and stared around the circle of reclining bodies and relaxing faces. “But we can’t just sleep on the ground!” she wailed.
“We can sleep on the ground,” Parker maintained, “and we will sleep on the ground. We do it all the time.”
“Like Parker just told you,” Prescott added, “we only brought the blankets for you ladies. We don’t normally bother with them.”
“But…but…we can’t!” Maggie cried. “I mean, I can’t!”
A loud snore came from Paul. Neither Parker nor Prescott answered her.
Marion leaned over from her blanket bed and patted Maggie on the arm. “It’s okay, Maggie. Just wrap up in your blanket and go to sleep. We’re all tired. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“But…but…” Maggie rolled her eyes around the dark clearing in a distracted frenzy.
“Go to sleep, Maggie,” Marion ordered.
Marion lay down on her blanket and covered herself with the excess. She rolled herself into a cylinder and put Maggie and everyone around her as far out of her mind as possible. The last sound she heard was Maggie jumping up, her blanket still held tightly in her arms.
“I’m not sleeping on the ground!” she barked to no one in particular.
Then she stomped off to the wagon.
Marion heard no more, and she soon fell asleep.