Perhaps not so surprisingly, Pastor Joe’s sermon mirrored Father Francis’. He’d assured Francis of the extra half hour with no qualms, as he was considered a fine orator and cared about his topic. Anyway, his congregation expected a solid sermon.
Curiosity was such that few in town weren’t planning to attend. Not everyone danced, but they all needed to eat. And besides those who could afford the help were hoping to take advantage of the various talents described in Mother Evangeline’s letters to her brother.
Several of the women were experienced in childcare, all had solid household skills, and a few had specialties that were in short supply.
“And besides,” commented one of the ladies, “did you see how stylishly they were turned out?” Glances were cast over to where several of the young ladies in question were seated, escorted by Tri Brand hands, to the discomfort of a few of the other young sparks in town who hadn’t settled on a future bride among those with whom they’d grown up.
That the fabrics were not expensive had not been noticed, when they had been so beautifully draped, twisted, folded, stitched, and decorated. Everyone who hadn’t already met them at the dance was anxious to greet these exotic creatures. Certainly these weren’t the pitiful creatures most had expected when they’d learned about the orphan mail-order brides coming to town.
Sorry, Francis, thought Pastor Joe as his congregation rushed past his reception line heading for their horses and wagons and buggies, ladies checking to be sure their covered dishes were secure. Because, blue ribbons at the fair notwithstanding, comments would be made about Sarah Mae’s fried chicken and Charlie Sue’s apple pie, and wouldn’t it be nice if my dish became talked of favorably, thought more than one woman wistfully.
Picnic on the Hill
Lifelong neighbors, most of the Green River Church congregation had seldom visited St. Mary’s on the Hill except for the occasional wedding or funeral. The church was of stone, and beautifully crafted but it was the picnic area that had been prepared which became the focus of attention as Mother Evangeline’s habit stood out among the brightly colored gowns.
Mrs. Henderson directed desserts to one table and main dishes to another. Blankets and quilts were already claiming spaces and neighbors called greetings, pointing out where others should set up.
Most folks had their own plates and utensils, but the Kenners and Barnetts had brought a stack of extra supplies over to accommodate their guests.
Those who had attended the tea had all the other girls anxious to meet the newcomers. Many had done so at the dance the previous evening, the remaining few, including some of the older and younger females, and quite a few matrons with youngsters clinging to their skirts, were anxious to meet them as well.
“I only hope, when the new wears off, we are still liked for ourselves,” commented Barbara softly to Judith.
Where the girls were, so were the boys. Judith was amused to note they weren’t all that different from the boys at the orphanage. Perhaps, on average, they were more poorly educated, but they assumed the same male posturing she’d seen among their dance partners back east as well as last night. She also noticed a few sparks igniting among the men and women talking together—“and not just with our group,” she pointed out to Barbara.
“Oh, Mother Evangeline is trying to get my attention, she added. To an onlooker, the subtle raise of eyebrows and shift of eyes would have gone unnoticed, but Judith had assisted first Mother Clara and then Mother Evangeline for years and understood their subtle body language. Looking at Mother, she cast her eyes swiftly toward Barbara and lifted her own brows slightly, getting a microscopic head shake in return. Barbara had watched the exchange and smiled warmly at Mother, then turned to Judith for a quick hug before sending her on her way.
As she turned, she saw Mrs. Cooper raising a hand toward her. Not quite as infinitesimal a gesture as Mother Evangeline’s, it was also spare and elegant, and Barbara smiled, nodded, and strolled at a ladylike pace toward the older woman.
Employment
Billy watched as Barbara walked over to talk with Mrs. Cooper. He shouldn’t be jealous. After all, it was he who had introduced them, and he really wanted her to have her dreams. She’d written him about dressmaking plans and then heard the girls praising her designs, so knew he had to give Barbara the opportunity to talk with the town’s only seamstress.
He reckoned he’d see if there was any pie left and give her a few minutes to talk with Ms Dorothy.
“Mrs. Cooper, so good to see you again!”
“Please, call me Dorothy! And may I call you Barbara? Such a pretty name.”
“Thank you, Dorothy,” Barbara smiled.
“Having seen your styles, being modeled by our newest residents, I really hope we can work something out. Right now I am the town’s only outside dressmaker and, as I’m sure you know, although in an emergency even most of the cowboys can sew on a button, not everyone is talented.
“I don’t think I’m telling tales out of school to give Charlie Sue as an example. I understand the two of you enjoyed tea together yesterday.”
“Oh, how can one help but like her? She is so open and lively! Yes, she commented she gets ready-mades and has you add flounces since they are inevitably many inches too short.”
“She has it in her head her father can’t afford to have a dress made from scratch for her. Of course he’d do anything for her that she asked, but since she seldom wears dresses, he doesn’t have a clue.” Dorothy sighed, and then continued.
“I have to be honest. At first I was doing it for the money, which was short during the war. The ranch was barely hanging on and there was
