The Springtime Mail Order Bride by Kit Morgan Page B

it.”
    “Only when it reached the cliff, it stopped, and Arlan didn’t,” Daniel finished.
    Calvin made a whistling sound as his hand raised then fell onto the table with a bang.
    Samijo winced and looked at Arlan, who sat red-faced. “What happened to the calf … er, I mean the cow?”
    “It followed Arlan’s hors e home with the rest of the strays,” said Ma. “That’s how we knew something was wrong.  When we found poor Arlan, he was parched, banged up, but fixable.”
    “We set him to rights,” added Daniel.
    Arlan was beet red at this point, and it was all Samijo could do not to burst into a fit of giggles. She was about to comment when …
    Knock, knock, knock ...
    The Weavers froze a scant second before Arlan got up from the table, went to a corner of the kitchen, and pulled out a shotgun. He cocked it and nodded to his brothers.  Samijo watched in fascination as they sprang into action, each rushing to a different part of the house and procuring a weapon. She swallowed hard and followed Ma to the front door. What was going on?  Is this how the Weavers always reacted to a simple knock on the door?
    Arlan stepped to the door, as Benjamin peeked through the lace curtains at the front porch. He gave his big brother a cur t nod, and Arlan opened it. His mouth dropped open.
    “Hello there,” a sweet voice said. “Surprise, surprise.”
    Arlan sighed, looked to his brothers, and opened the door wide. Standing on the other side, was Olivia Bridger.
    Samijo fought the urge to pluck a gun from one of Arlan’s brothers and take aim. Not that it would do any good. Each of them lowered their weapon and gawked at the girl. Little did they know Olivia Bridger’s presence could only mean one thing; trouble. She was not the type of woman her three new brothers-in-law needed to be subjected to.
    Samijo hoped she could be civil and keep her jealousy under control, or she might be tempted to toss Olivia Bridger down the well.
     
    * * *

    “Well, well, Mr. Weaver. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Olivia crooned.
    “What are you doing here?” Arlan asked as he took in her fancy dress and bonnet.
    “Well, I just happened to be in the area and …”
    “Happened to be in the area?” Arlan echoed, his voice cracking on his last word. “ There’s no one around for miles!”
    “Oh I wouldn’t say that,” she cooed. “My father is around here somewhere.”
    “Your father?”
    “And my mother, and my brother too if you must know.”
    “Arlan,” his mother began. “Who is this?”
    “You must be Mrs. Weaver,” Olivia said sweetly. “I’ve heard all about you from your sister Mrs. Quinn over in Nowhere.”
    Ma’s eyes widened before she squinted at the girl to get a better look. “You’re going to ruin that dress out here. Very impractical.”
    Olivia glanced at her dark green day dress with its fancy lace trim. “This old thing? Oh, I don’t care what happens to this dress.”
    Ma stepped back and sighed. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
    “No, but I am now.”
    Arlan peeked over Olivia’s head to see outside.  A one-horse buggy was parked in front of the house. “What do you mean?”
    “You know that little old patch of land on the other side of the stream?  The one that runs south of your orchards?”
    “The land that runs behind Arlan’s cabin?” Calvin chimed in.
    Olivia craned her neck to see past Arlan. She took one look at Calvin and her eyes flashed with… something.  “Yes.”
    Arlan’s face took on a look of panic. “What about it?”
    “We bought it. We’re going to be your new neighbors.”
    Samijo coughed, and coughed, and coughed some more. It was the only thing she could think of that would hide her groans of dread.  Benjamin gave her a few hard pats on the back, and looked at Arlan, who in turn was looking at Olivia like she’d just told him his house burned down.  At least he looked as unhappy with the news as Samijo felt.
    “What?” Arlan