Butterfly Bride

Butterfly Bride

Sisters, Book 2

By Juliet Waldron

Digital ISBNs

EPUB 978-1-77362-799-1

Kindle 978-1-77299-210-6

WEB 978-1-77362-800-4

Amazon Print ISBN 978-1-77299-242-7

Copyright 2016 by Juliet Waldron

Cover art by Michelle Lee

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, store in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

* * *

Dedication

To all the Butterflies

Chapter One

Waiting for someone, Miss? A tall, good-looking American swept off his hat in an exaggerated gesture. He had short brown hair, a tanned face, blue eyes, and a neatly trimmed moustache. He wore a yellow waistcoat with a golden pocket watch chain.

Yes sir. Elfie hoped the conversation wouldn’t get too complicated. She was afraid her English wasn’t yet up to it. Aunt Ilga, who had brought her from Philadelphia, had just disappeared into the crowded little station house to see if there was any message for them. She hadn’t yet returned.

Well, I’m waiting for someone, too. Perhaps, the smiling young man leaned closer, it’s you.

Elfie had seen him earlier, one of a group of three, who had all come piling out of a buggy with a double-hitch of chestnut geldings. The horses were lathered, so they’d obviously been going fast. They’d arrived in a cloud of dust, practically running down a newsboy who’d been crossing the yard, just as the train pulled in. They’d looked around a bit, and she’d noticed them just as they’d noticed her. The best looking, the one who had come over, had lifted his hat, but Elfie had turned away, pretending to be distracted by children who were racing along the platform.

A moment later, when she turned back, here he was, making a bold approach. She hadn’t been in America long, just a few weeks, but in Philadelphia, she’d seen his like when she’d been out with her Aunt Ilga. A swell, her Aunt would call him. Aunt Ilga had warned Elfie about young men like him.

Elfie looked him up and down, trying her best to appear severe, but it was not an easy thing for a willowy girl who was barely eighteen to do. Besides, she knew she looked pretty, in a green dress and with a darling new hat which sported a curled feather atop her dark brown curls. It was intoxicating, since she’d escaped from the grim apartment in Hanover, Germany, to suddenly come to grips with just how pretty she was.

I don’ tink zo.

Oh—hahahaha—tink what, you adorable creature?

He leaned in even closer, and Elfie took a few prudent steps back, putting her steamer trunk between them.

Come on—tell me your name, Darlin’ and where you want to go. We’ve got plenty of room in the buggy there. Me and my friends will be happy to drive you anywhere you want to go.

The rogue stepped around the trunk and caught her arm. She caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath.

I’ll bet you’re heading over to New Bremen or Kohler’s Corners.

Let go my arm, you—you—!

Touching her; how dare he! Now, that was too much!

Or is it German’s Mill? I’ll bet you’re Mrs. Wildbach’s little sister, aren’t you! I’m Ripley King, at your service. He announced this as if it was supposed to mean something to her. I’m staying with my aunt and uncle there right now, just up the hill from the millhouse. Come on, don’t worry. It’s just a few miles from here. Have you over there in jiffy. Behind him, she saw one of the other fellows who’d been in the buggy walking their way, a smirk on his face, a smirk she now saw repeat itself on the stranger’s face. Quick as a flash, she slapped the smile and yanked her arm away.

Miss Neiman! Miss Neiman!

Elfie saw a heavy-set gentleman in overalls and a dark blue bill hat—perhaps a railway official—approaching. Beside him trotted a lanky youth in a battered hat and jacket, but taking the lead was her still-shapely Aunt Ilga. A bright green parasol—was brandished above the ostrich plumed hat.

You take your hands off my niece, you—you—brazen young dog!

Now, now, ma’am. No harm intended, just offering the little lady a ride! Laughing, the stranger backed away, although he did manage to send Elfie a final grin and a big wink. His friend had already made a swift retreat to the buggy. The third member of the company, in the driver’s seat, turned the horses.

Get over here, Rip, and hurry! Before that old hen brains you!

A skinny youth rushed up to add his cries to Ilga’s. He looked barely more than a twig compared to the others, but when he shook his fist at them, his pale eyes blazed. Elfie had a feeling that while he might badly lose the fight he was offering, the notion did not dissuade him. In fact, he bent, collected a stone and hit one of the fine horses on its polished rump, causing it to half-rear within the harness. The buggy went rattling away, trailing dust and rude laughter.

While the young man and one of the skinny gray-haired black porters were struggling with the trunks, Ilga surprised Elfie with an abrupt change of plan.

This is Arthur McNally. He’s just started working at your brother-in-law’s mill. He’s here to drive you over to German’s Mill directly.

But—aren’t you coming to German’s Mill with me, Auntie?

"Well, darling, that house of theirs is none too big. With you there and the baby coming who knows when, it will burst at the seams. No, I don’t think your sister needs another guest right now. I’ll be at the hotel right here in Letort Springs for a few days. I find drinking the water always sorts me out—and frankly, as Lotte’s still not completely well, I need to stay out of the house. Heaven knows, I have been feeling rather unwell myself and I don’t need to catch anything else on top of all the business that’s landed on my plate since my poor dear Bullmaster suffered Schlagenfall.

Now, be sure to ask if Sophie and Karl if they would like to come for dinner on Sunday with me here at the hotel. It will be my treat. If that isn’t possible, assure them I shall not be offended. Here’s a letter to give Sophie, dear. I do wish them well—especially poor little Sophie with that baby coming so soon! I’m due back in Philadelphia in two days anyhow for a meeting with Mr. Beers, so I might as well stay right there, for it is more convenient to the train. I do wish I could stay, but there is so much to do now winding up so much business.

Ilga’s wealthy husband had succumbed to a stroke during the time Elfie and Lotte had been at sea. When they’d arrived, their aunt had greeted them just as planned, looking handsome in black. Poor Mr. Bullmaster had, just a few days earlier, lain in a bed made for him downstairs. The maid servant said that for the few days he’d survived, he’d been speechless. Except for a few random twitches, not much moved, except his eyes. One side of his face drooped, she said, so that he drooled and food fell out of his mouth. Nurses had been engaged to care for him, but his once robust body, (which Elfie saw in a large photograph, now installed in the front parlor, draped in black) had given up. As her aunt had remarked sadly, Poor Mr. B. disappeared like wax in flame.

Elfie was glad that the funeral was over, because she loathed them, especially the business of gazing respectfully at a colorless corpse. Of course, Lotte was full of sympathy, because she was like that, ever so kind-hearted. Both young women had expected their aunt to be much distressed by recent events, but what seemed to distress her most were some business matters which had been brought to a halt when her husband had died.

Aunt Ilga was tired and teared up easily, but she remained in control of herself, especially when the sisters compared it with the abandoned grief of their mother when their Papa had suddenly died. With a pair of reading spectacles balanced on her nose, Ilga spent every morning diligently inspecting accounts with her husband’s secretary, accountant, and the family attorney. It seemed she’d never really been away from such tasks, for both the accountant and the attorney spoke to her without talking down. She was obviously familiar with the language of business.

The attorney was a handsome older man, Mr. Alwin Bahr, who always had an extra twinkle in his blue eyes when he’d spent time with the sisters. He’d been kind and had driven the three of them into the business district one day to a lovely luncheon. In fact, Mr. Bahr had spent so much time chatting with the sisters that Aunt Ilga became a bit peeved.

They had just been there a week when Lotte had come down with a high fever and a cough. Auntie had been concerned, but she’d also been worried, too, and had installed her sick niece in a bedroom at the top of the house. Here she would only go for brief visits, although the maids and cook’s helpers were forever going up and downstairs with little bowls of soup and trays of lemonade and bottles of tonic. Although Elfie, too, had a touch of it and had stayed in bed for a day or two, she’d quickly improved and had been soon quite ready to accompany Ilga on excursions to the shops and to see the sights of the Philadelphia. Mr. Bullmaster, when he came up in conversation, was spoken of with regret, but one night after a few glasses of wine, their aunt had said that he was better off dead, than still alive the way he’d been after his schlagenfall.

Ilga had been looking forward to some time at the elegant spa hotel which overlooked Letort Springs and had long planned to make a few days’ stop there. Before Mr. Bullmaster’s illness and demise, she’d arranged to accompany her neices to German’s Mill, to visit with Sophie and Karl, and then dispatch Lotte to that governess position which awaited her in Harrisburg. Lotte, a spinster of twenty-nine, was used to shifting for herself, while Elfie was only just eighteen, and had been, up until that momentous trip across the ocean, quietly keeping her mother’s apartment in Bremen.

Now, what does this fella want? Ilga interrupted Elfie’s meandering thoughts. Another stranger was marching purposefully toward them, a tough looking young man in working man’s garb, a battered slouch hat, denim pants, and a leather apron.

Ma’am, he said, tipping a battered hat. Miss! I see you’ve a fair passel of luggage there. May I help?

Oh, hey, Moon! Arthur, looking relieved, grinned and waved. You sure could. This weighs a ton. His look of cheer withered under Ilga’s fierce gaze. It was her trunk they’d been struggling to lift and she appeared determined to resist any attempt to make a joke at the expense of her luggage. Elfie pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile. She and Lotte had already laughed together about the size of that trunk. The number of bags—and the trunk, too—was a sketch—guter Witz—Lotte said, that Auntie could bring more clothes for 3 days than either of them had brought across the ocean.

Although the newcomer was neither tall, nor thick with muscle, it was soon apparent that he was far stronger than either the elderly porter or Arthur. The trunks and pieces of hand luggage moved as if by magic onto the back of the cart. The big red horse craned his neck to watch. Elfie wondered if the horse was getting worried about what he would have to pull. Then she wondered what kind of name Moon was, as she watched this man so easily heft things. He had the nicest brown eyes! She’d noticed that, because she’d noticed them, oh-so-bright and looking her way.

Oh, Mrs. Bullmaster and Miss Neiman, this here’s Mr. Sam Moonshine. He lives with his family atop the ridge over there. Moonshine Ridge, as it’s called, on account his great-grand dad who homesteaded….

Now that the trunk had been loaded at last, Arthur stumbled through introductions.

Very good, Arthur.

Ignoring him, Ilga began to grope in her purse. Elfie was embarrassed. Ilga, she thought, was sometimes not very perceptive. Although the man before them wore stained work clothes of denim and leather, he hadn’t seemed uncouth or common, not at all the sort of person who would expect a gratuity. The young man smiled slightly, lifted one muscular hand, and shook his head.

No need for that, Ma’am. Anything on that line belongs to Mr. Nathan here. Mr. Moonshine touched the brim of his hat again politely, another little gesture to the ladies. Ma’am, and uh Miss Elfrieda, good day to you ladies. Again he indicated that money should go the porter.

As Ilga handed some over to the grizzled fellow, and while he was still bowing and tipping his cap, ‘Moon’ strode away. Elfie looked after him, feeling the pull of attraction.

So strong! So handsome! And so very polite!

In the distance, against the background of the noisy, lurching start of the train, Elfie followed him with her eyes. Sam Moonshine was headed toward a big farm wagon pulled by a red mule with a blonde mane.

All right, young man, said Ilga, Shall we get along? First, you can take me up to the hotel and then you can take Miss Elfie over to German’s Mill.

Arthur’s jaw dropped. Clearly he hadn’t expected this when he’d been dispatched. It would add two miles to the round trip, and he had other things he was expected to do, back at the mill.

Um-ah….

Don’t worry; Karl won’t mind, I’m sure. In fact, I’d think he’d be glad not to have that little house cluttered up and poor hard-working Sophie won’t have to entertain me while she’s ready to pop. She can focus all her attention on getting you settled in and introduced around, my dear. She tapped Elfie on the check, smiled reassuringly, and then thrust out her elbow to show Arthur his next task, which was to help her hoist herself (and her fashionable attire) into the wagonette.

When they were on their way, the red farm horse’s big feet striking dust off the road, Ilga said, I want you to keep in mind all the advice I’ve given, my dear. I think you should be able to find yourself a fine husband here in the great valley, just as your sister has done.

* * *

Oh, Sophie-Sophie-Sophie!

Elfrieda! My darling!

Hearts pounding, the sisters embraced. They’d been separated for well over a year now, living on letters and hopes, but Sophie’s new husband had acted more quickly than anyone had ever dreamed. Karl Wildbach had sent the money for passage from Bremen in Germany, and here Elfie was, on the porch of a lovely stone farmhouse overlooking a millrace and surrounded by tidy gardens and trees. It was exactly as beautiful as Sophie had written. Elfie had wanted to pinch herself ever since she’d left Hanover, with so many sad memories, then traveled through the smoky, dark port of Bremen, and begun, with her big sister, ’Lotte, the great adventure of their voyage to America.

And now she was here—journey completed at last!

Where have you been? And where’s Ilga?

Oh, ma’am, Arthur said, Miz Ilga decided she wanted to go straight up to the Springs Hotel and I had to take her. That added on some miles.

Sophie shook her head and looked knowing. Oh, your Aunt! she said to Elfie. but poor Mr. Bullmaster! Hardly cold in his grave.

She says life is for the living and that it is for the best that he passed so quickly. She said that the week he lived—although he might just as well have been dead for all he knew—was the worst of her life.

As the wagonette approached, Elfie had first caught sight of her sister latching the gate to a garden patch, a wicker basket overflowing with greens on her arm. Although the house was substantial, with four fine windows at the bottom and five across the top, and although the countryside on every side was endlessly green and growing, the way her sister looked was shocking. Elfie remembered her elder sister as statuesque and pale, but now the face beneath a broad-brimmed straw hat was plump, rosy, and brown. The hands clasping hers were tanned, muscular, and plant-stained.

Instead of a genteel lady, a soft city dweller, her sister was now an American farmer’s wife. Sophie Wildbach was also very pregnant, belly high beneath a broad, dusty apron. Inside Elfie’s embrace, she was all sweat. Up close, after all this time, Elfie saw new, weary shadows under her sister’s lovely dark eyes.

And is our dear Lotte any better? Sophie asked when Elfie released her.

Yes, much! We’re all so glad. The doctor said another week or so and she should be ready to travel. Her older sister had first been sea sick and then intermittently ill with a cough on the voyage, arriving in Philadelphia rather the worse for wear. It had not been the plan at all, as Lotte, the older, was supposed to be the one who would look after her little sister. Fortunately, Aunt Ilga, though barely two weeks into life as a widow, had met them at the boat, or Elfie was not sure how well she would have managed.

Good to hear! I’ve been worried ever since you wrote. Now, perhaps, we’ll be able to have Lotte here for a visit and to rest a little before she goes to work for Attorney Wertz. Oh, and here is Mrs. D.—Divine Daniels, Sophie added, turning to introduce her to the black woman who’d just appeared in the doorway. Divine was busily wiping her hands on a dishcloth. Her head was covered by a bright kerchief and she wore a faded calico print dress shielded by a white apron, like most other American kitchen help Elfie had seen.

How do you do, said Elfie. She wasn’t sure whether to curtsy or nod, but the woman said, Guten tag, Fraulein and stuck out her hand, so Elfie shook it. Aunt Ilga had black servants, but she treated them like inferiors, not like members of the household. Sophie, in her letters, had always spoken of her relations with the helpful Mrs. D as if she was a sort of wise old aunt.

Well, well. Aren’t you jes’ the picture o’pretty, Mizz Elfrieda! Divine looked her up and down, her dark eyes brightening. Just like our dear Mizz Sophie has bin sayin’. Before Elfie could think of anything to say beyond thank-you she added, Dinner’s jus’ about ready, Mizz Sophie. And I see you got more of dem good greens.

A whole new row leafed out real nice after that rain, and it’s a fine thing too, the way everyone was eatin’ them up. As Sophie leaned to retrieve the basket again, Divine anticipated her.

Here, Mizz. Let me. Divine, full basket in hand, gestured at the door. Go in, ladies. The hands will be comin’ in a few minutes and then we’ll all sit down. Where’s Miz Ilga, then?

Arthur spoke up. Already hopped it to the Springs Hotel, Mrs. D. She had me drive her up there even before bringin’ Miss Elfrida to German’s Mill.

Divine grinned. But, do tell, Mr. Art! She retreated a few steps down to touch the young man on the shoulder as he stood, ragged straw hat politely in hand. And how’d you ever git all dat luggage up on de wagon when you and Mr. Nathan both suffer wi’ dem skinny arms?

Oh, Mr. Moonshine came by and helped out. I think he was there seein’ his Aunt Essy onto the Harrisburg train.

Well, that was very kind of him.

And oh Sophie, Aunt Ilga was ever so rude to—uh—Mr. Moonshine. I was so embarrassed. Elfie spoke up. She’d been curious about this man, so handsome, so strong and so silent. It pleased her when he’d entered the conversation again. She hoped to learn a little more about him.

The way those dark brown eyes had regarded her!

Simply remembering brought on a small shiver of delight.

Mr. Bullmaster’s manner has rubbed off, I guess, or maybe Philadelphia ways, but you know, Schwester, I believe she was always a little brusk. Mama, remember, often said she was the brave one, you know, abenteurlich, whenever she told us about their younger days. I’m sure Mr. Sam wasn’t offended. He’s been out in the hard old world, hasn’t he, Divine?

’Deed he has. He went headfirst into the war, jus’ like your new Reverend.

Mr. Moonshine’s ’bout the same age as my Karl, isn’t he?

He’s a few years older, but Mr. Karl’s always sayin’ Sam Moonshine was a bigger a fool than he was, ’cause he left a happy home behind to join up and risk his neck.

This piqued Elfie’s interest, but no more on the subject was forthcoming. Sophie turned back to Arthur.

Well, Art, that trunk’s too heavy for you to shift up those stairs by yourself, so don’t do anything ’till Raymond can help. Just leave the wagonette where it is and unhitch Duke and see if Freeman can rug him straight away. He’s hot and in a lather.

Elfie watched while Arthur stepped down to collect the leads he’d slipped over the post. The horse had pulled hard during that journey down to the big hotel and back. The big red creature with the creamy mane had done the job willingly, but now he was clearly tired and wanted water.

Art’s conversation on the hour long drive back from Letort Springs had been minimal, although she’d thanked him for his help several times. Elfie had a feeling talking would have been difficult in any case, because he appeared painfully shy. He’d blushed like mad when he’d spoken with Aunt Ilga, and then had blushed even more painfully every time he looked at Elfie beside him.

There was a clink and chink while the horses were unhitched. Divine went up and once again held the door for Sophie and Elfie, taking charge of the heavy carpet bag. Inside, curtains were open, and leafy dapples fell into the room through the linden trees that long ago Grandfather Wildbach had brought with him from the old country.

It was a warm day, so screens were set to catch the breeze through the open windows. They entered a cool hallway and then Elfie followed her sister into a study with a square table, set with ledgers and paper, a long high-backed bench and several chairs. On one side a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf stood, filled with leather tomes.

Sit down, dear one. Would you like a glass of water or some tea?

When Elfie asked for water, Sophie said she’d just go out and bring it.

I should be bringing that to you. Elfie sent a meaningful look at her sister’s belly.

Tomorrow. Sophie smiled. After you figure out where things are.

* * *

As she went into the kitchen, Sophie thought: Good Lord! Little Elfie has grown into a perfect stunner!

Suddenly, she felt keenly how much had changed in the last year. There was a flash of sadness for the elegant, soft-handed girl she had once been. Then the baby moved heavily inside. Although she was bone-weary and her back ached, she’d never change a single thing about this new world that she had, all by herself, braved. I am a wife and will be a mother, here in America.

* * *

In the barn, Arthur found Ray Daniels seated at a work bench, needle and pliers in hand, mending a leather harness.

Hi there, Ray. Freeman around to take care of Duke? He’s out at the trough.

Freeman, hearing his name, promptly materialized out of the shadows. Don’t let him drink too much or he’ll sicken for sure. An’ be sure in rug ’em down good, Ray said to the youth, who silently nodded and then went out. Over the winter, Freeman had shot up.