Chapter Six
TUESDAY DAWNED WITHa hundred things that needed doing before Jonathan could even think about his upcoming nuptials that evening. Instead of sitting down to breakfast with the lodgers, as he usually did, Jonathan left the boarding house as soon as he was dressed.
Birds sang overhead as the morning sun illuminated the changing colors of the leaves. Fall came early to the mountains, Jonathan mused, as he made his way to the mercantile. He’d spent most of his life in Missouri, and then in towns on the Plains, learning business through working in various shops and hotels. Not since he’d arrived in Grover’s Gulch had he experienced living in such spectacular beauty. The Plains held their own sort of beauty, but it was much more subdued. The mountains were like a rich woman, displaying all of her fancy expensive gowns and jewelry as frequently as possible, while the Plains were a farmer’s wife, simple but pretty in her own right.
The mercantile held far too many options for a wedding gift for Catherine that Jonathan finally acquiesced to the help offered by the shopkeeper’s wife. He left with a small, carved jewelry box. One that he hoped to help Catherine fill as the years went on.
He then stopped at the pastor’s home to confirm the time of the marriage ceremony, the bank to pay on the note he’d taken out to build the boarding house, the shipping and freight office to inquire after a shipment of new linens he’d ordered, and finally, the livery stable to secure a wagon so that Catherine wouldn’t need to potentially muss her dress and shoes in the mud between the boarding house and the church.
As William Denzinger, the stable owner, found him a carriage instead and a good horse to pull it, his wife came bustling inside the stable.
“Good morning, Mr. Clark!” she said in her usual cheerful voice as she held her baby close to her.
Jonathan didn’t think he’d ever met a person as vivacious as Mrs. Denzinger. Her friendly nature was contagious, and he found himself smiling for no reason whatsoever. “Good morning, Mrs. Denzinger.”
“Oh! I see you’ve chosen a carriage for your wedding.” She beamed at him as her husband and their adopted son, Charlie, brought the carriage down the stable’s aisle. “It’s lovely. I believe it will make your intended very happy.”
“Thank you,” he said, his cheeks growing warm with the praise.
Denzinger, a man of much fewer words than his wife, patted the side of the conveyance. “It’s a good choice.”
"I just came from visiting with your intended," Mrs. Denzinger said, shifting the baby in her arms. “She’s such a kind person. We couldn’t talk long, unfortunately, but I invited her to come for tea one afternoon when she has time. I think it’s wonderful, what you’re doing.”
Jonathan glanced at Denzinger, trying to figure out what his wife meant. But the man shrugged and turned to help his son fetch the horse.
Perhaps Mrs. Denzinger just found out that Catherine was a mail-order bride, like herself. “I’m hardly the first man in town to marry in this way.” He gave Mrs. Denzinger a smile.
But she tilted her head, clearly confused. “No, I mean for the child.”
“Child?”
“Yes, her baby,” Mrs. Denzinger said as she looked down at her own little one. “Not many men would be so agreeable.”
“Baby?”
She looked up at him then, her eyes growing wide. “Ohhh. Forgive me. I shouldn’t have— Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I ought to have kept my mouth closed.” Mrs. Denzinger paused. “Are you all right, Mr. Clark?”
