Lowering his head, Carl struggled to keep his upset at her words hidden. To help his selfless sister-in-law, he would marry any woman she presented to him. Still, it seemed she needed the help now. The process of getting a bride sent to Wisconsin would take at least a month if not more, wouldn’t it?
He rose from the table and headed to his room. If they spent any time at all in the Olsens’ store, he would need his ball and jacks. They, of all people, had to believe he hadn’t regained either his memory or his wits. As usual, he planned to hunker down on the floor in their store and play jacks with Berta and Johanna while Myra shopped. The twins, too young to play, would watch with rounded eyes. They loved the motion of the bouncing ball and the quick hand movement to snatch the jacks and the ball.
When he returned, Myra and the girls had the kitchen cleaned. She and Johanna each watched over a twin on a chamber pot. Good thing those girls were trained. Looked to Carl like Myra would have a new one in diapers any day.
Moving outside the front door, Carl saw the draft horses standing calmly, hitched to the boxy sleigh. A month ago, after the first deep snow, he and Holder had moved the wagon box from its wheels to the sleigh runners. With the deep snows of northern Wisconsin, they would never get to town without doing that. It did make for an odd-looking sleigh, though.
Myra hustled Berta out in front of her. She held Dora and Johanna followed with Darlene. Carl helped Berta into the back and then took Darlene from Johanna. He handed the toddler to the sister already in the wagon. Myra passed Dora next and pulled the heavy quilt over the girls. They burrowed into the nest of straw, hiding under the quilt to escape the wind.
Clucking to the horses, Carl guided them out of the farmyard and down the lane hedged in on either side by cedars, planted years before by his father for a windbreak. The fast-growing trees kept much of the wagon track free of snow during the winter. This year, Johanna had tied a red ribbon to every tree, giving the lane a cheery look.
Obviously, Myra and Johanna felt the cheeriness because first the girl and then her stepmother sang one carol after another. From the blanket behind him, Carl heard Berta’s young voice join in on verses that she knew. All in all, their joy helped make the cold ride a pleasure.
In town, he guided the horses toward the mercantile. Myra pointed and told him to keep the horses moving up the street. “I want to wire a friend. Take me to the Western Union office, Carl.”
Stopping by the train depot north of town, Carl jumped from the sleigh and hurried to Myra. Feeling awkward, he reached past her swollen belly. Somehow, he found her elbows and helped steady her as she left the sleigh.
“Now, take the girls to Fred while I do this. It’s just a hop and a skip to the jail so I can make my way there. I don’t want my girls out in the cold while I send this telegram.”
Carl flopped his head in a nod and grinned. She looked at him and gave a tired sigh. “I know you’ll do your best.” With a flutter of her hands, she shooed him back into the sleigh. Then she watched as he directed the team to the nearby jail, about five hundred feet from the telegraph office.
He felt her watching them. As he lifted Berta, he glanced toward Western Union. Myra still stood there. At his look, she gave a satisfied nod before heading into the building.
What a mother! She was definitely the best thing that had ever happened to these girls and his brother. Sure, their real mother was great and it had been sad when she sort of faded away after the twins’ birth. However, even she didn’t have the motherly instinct that Myra showed them.
With Dora and Darlene on each arm, he hustled the kids into the warm jailhouse. The fragrance of coffee and gun oil hit his nostrils as he entered.
His brother set down the gun he was cleaning and rose from behind his desk. Taking the twins from Carl, he kissed each one’s cheek. “Well, if it isn’t Dearie and Darling.” Sheriff Fred Sittig used the names they’d called the twins when his brother had refused to name them. Another thing to thank Myra for—the girls now had real names.
Johanna and Berta each kissed Fred’s cheek before the younger smiled sweetly and asked, “May we play checkers, Uncle Fred?”
He chuckled. “Don’t you always?” He gestured with a nod toward the board next to the stove. “Go on then. Have fun.”
Moving to stand by the girls, Carl stood Dora and Darlene by their sisters to watch the game. Then he grabbed Fred’s arm and moved him to the opposite corner.
Standing by the door that led to the cells, he hissed his news. “Holder and Myra are ordering a bride for me. A keeper, actually. Myra needs help, and my nightmares are keeping them awake.”
With a shrug, Fred kept a straight face as he responded. “Sounds like a good idea. It’s been a tough year for Myra, what with nursing Ma and now the new baby on the way.” His eyes gleamed with wicked amusement as he teased his brother. “Maybe they’ll find a stout, strict old maid for you, little brother.”
Releasing a frustrated breath, Carl pounded a fist into his palm. “Get serious! I think I should tell Holder. It’s been almost six months now since my mind’s
