The Bride
by Carolyn Steel

(Short Story)

For the fourth time that morning, Edward sucked his finger and uttered a curse. The taste of warm salty blood lingered on his tongue. "Damn it! When a man buys a pair of pants, the buttons oughta stay on 'em."
Anthony ran a comb through his graying mustache and glanced at the reflection of his son in the mirror. Edward sat cross-legged on the bed, clad only in his long johns. A mop of brown hair covered his forehead as he concentrated on the task of repairing his trousers.
"What Wrangell needs, Eddie, is a Chinese laundry. Ketchikan's got one. They sew on buttons, turn cuffs and collars, everything." The old man wiggled his upper lip, then turned and reached for his coat. "Meet ya over at the cafe, son."
Edward hooked a length of thread around his incisor and pulled until the thread broke. He studied his punctured fingers. "Wrangell may need a laundry, but I need a woman!"
He leaned against the wooden wall and allowed its chill to penetrate his bones. Twenty-three years old and he didn't have a wife, someone soft and warm to hold through the long nights. He took a deep breath, then sighed. And someone that didn't smell like mechanic's grease and sled dogs.
Dressed, Edward stepped out onto the wooden sidewalk and surveyed the other buildings along Main Street of the fishing village. There were a hundred men for every woman in Alaska, and the statistics on this island weren't much better. If he wanted a wife, he was going to have to go below.
There was just one question. Go where? Once there, it wasn't likely one could go up to the first pretty girl you saw and say, "Excuse me, Ma'am. Would you care to marry me and go north to Wrangell, Alaska. It's mighty pretty there. Lots of hunting and fishing. Snow isn't too deep in winter, most of the time anyway."
"Talkin' to yourself, Eddie?"
Edward paused in front of the cafe and smiled at the friend walking toward him. "Yah, Mick, but not getting any answers."
"Answers to what?"
"The lack of female companionship on this island."
Mick pulled a frayed advertisement out of his pocket. "Say, wait till you see what I got."
Edward read the black headlines. "Husbands needed for hundreds of young women."
"Shhh," Mick hissed. "Not so loud. You want to start a stampede?"
"Where did you get this?"
"Last week in Ketchikan. That's how Johanson got his wife. She's pretty, too. Don't hardly notice those missing teeth, exceptin' when she smiles."
Edward frowned. "Now, why would women down below be needin' to advertise for husbands?"
Mick stabbed a grimy finger at the flyer. "Like it says right here, sometimes nature gets out of balance and more girl babies are born than boys. A lot of men died fighting in Cuba and Mexico, too. A lot came up here. Why do you think the Roman Empire fell?"
Edward crossed his arms. "More girls than boys?"
"Uh huh. You send these folks your name and all. For fifty dollars they match you up with a fine virtuous young lady, guaranteed to be a healthy specimen of womanhood. I done mailed my letter. You better, too, afore all the girls are gone."

Edward's hand shook as he lifted the lamp's glass globe and held a match to the wick. Soft light flooded the room. He stared at the return address on the letter. Ethelyn Pearson, 320 Wise Street, Chillicothe, Missouri. It had been months since he answered the ad and then decided it was a scheme to rob desperate men of their hard earned money.
"Well," he muttered. "I'm not taking some woman sight unseen like Johanson did." Still, Ethelyn was a pretty name. Edward glanced at the key in the door and settled into a creaky chair. Only fresh cheechockos from down below blubbered about their love lives. Those poor souls didn't have any idea of the bad luck they were visiting upon themselves. No sir, he had carried this letter all day waiting for privacy.
Edward ran his finger under the envelope flap and slid the letter out. A faint aroma wafted in the air. Warm and sweet. He held the letter close and a fragrance reminiscent of old lady Guftafson's summer roses filled his nose.
A photograph escaped the folded page and fluttered to the table. Edward stared at it for a moment, then wiped his eyes. With one finger he pushed it into the brightest circle of light and leaned forward.
A pretty young woman with an abundance of dark curly hair smiled back at him. She rested against the arm of a porch swing and held a small white furry dog in her lap. Slippered feet, peeping from the hem of her skirt, crossed at the ankle and dangled inches from the ground.
Edward stood, cradled the picture in both hands and studied the face; no missing teeth! The chair protested as he slumped back down. Perfect! She was perfect.
Hands shaking again, he unfolded the letter. Large bold penmanship, abounding with flourishes, filled the paper. "Dear Edward," he read aloud. "My name is Ethelyn and I am almost seventeen. I have brown hair and blue eyes. I sing in the church choir and Mama says I could be an opera star. I like to sew and draw and read and write stories. How about you? Anxiously awaiting a reply, yours truly, Ethelyn."
The rendering of a dog adorned the lower corner of the page. Edward held the letter to his chest. Perfect. She was just perfect.

Edward squinted to make out the words on the worn signpost. Wise Street. For the hundredth time since he left Alaska, he pulled the packet of letters from his coat pocket and scanned the return address on the envelopes.
Edward took a deep breath. He had stood his ground when a big blackie charged him last winter, struggled through frigid weather mushing mail into British Columbia, and braved the raging Stikine River in a canoe to bring an engine part to a stranded boat. Nothing, however, had been as difficult as meeting a woman he had never spoken to; yet, just the thought of her tied his stomach in knots and made his head swim.
"Hello, Miss Pearson." Edward cleared his throat and began to walk. "Very pleased to meet you, Miss Pearson." He glanced at the pleasant houses with their wide porches set back from the road. "I am delighted to finally be here in your charming presence, Miss Pearson." That's good he nodded. Mick said girls like flowery language.
Shrill barking interrupted his thoughts. A small dog raced through an open gate and darted across the street straight at him.
"No, Sammy, stop!" The screen door slammed as a young woman bounded down the porch steps.
Hackles raised, the animal lunged at him. Edward's fedora tumbled off when he stooped and grabbed the bundle of fury by the scruff of the neck and held him at arm's length.
Breathless, the girl retrieved Edward's hat from the dirt. "Thank you, mister. Most people are afraid of Sammy." Cheeks flushed, she flashed a row of white teeth. "I guess I left the gate open. Mama would skin me alive if something happened to him."
She blew at a smidgen of dust on the hat brim; then looked down at Edward's suitcase. "Oh, if you're peddling something Mama won't have egg money till tomorrow."
Edward stood rooted to the ground with the little dog pawing the air and stammered. "Ah, ah, Ethelyn?"
"How did you know my name?"
"I've looked at the picture you sent me every day for eight months."
"You must be Edward Kalkins," she gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"Why, I come to fetch you. To get married."
Ethelyn dropped his hat. "Married?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Isn't that why you wrote me all those letters?"
"Well," she reached for the hat and brushed it. "Actually, my sister dared me to write. I never turn down a dare. Once I climbed to the top of the water tower."
Edward swallowed the lump in his throat. "I came 2,500 miles because of a dare?" His neck and ears flamed with heat. "I told you in my last letter I was coming as soon as the salmon runs were over."
Ethelyn's blue eyes widened. "How would I know when that would be? I've never seen a salmon. And how can we be married? We haven't even been properly introduced."
"Introduced?" Edward's voice rose. "I guess I mistook your letters for interest." He thrust the still growling dog at her. "If you'll give me my hat, I won't bother you any more."
Ethelyn whipped the fedora behind her back. Loosened curls fluttered around her face. "You came all that way just to see me?"
"Obviously a mistake," he muttered.
"Well, the least I can do is sew that button back on your sleeve. Follow me and close the gate." Nose in the air, she flounced across the street still clutching the hat.
Edward glanced down at the button dancing at the end of a thread as he struggled with the dog. With a huff, he stomped after her and slammed the gate shut. At the top of the stairs a swing moved in the breeze. The lovely image in the photograph flooded his memory and made his head swim again.
He released Sammy who continued to bark. Edward ran his hand over the whitewashed boards. In his dreams the dog liked him, but then, so did the girl.
"Hush, Sammy!" Ethelyn's voice was soft. She shifted a sewing basket in her arms and positioned herself at one end of the swing. "Well, sit down."
Barely daring to breathe, Edward slid in next to her. Words filled his mind and crowded his ability to think.
She pulled his arm toward her and studied the button. "You're more dashing than I imagined."
Edward blinked.
"Did you really kill two bears?"
He nodded.
"That's about the most exciting thing I ever heard." She held a needle up and ran a length of thread through the eye. "Weren't you scared?"
Finding his voice, Edward tried to sound nonchalant. "Nope. I've seen lots of bears."
Ethelyn bent close, intent on the task of reattaching the button to the coat sleeve. The faint scent of roses enveloped him.
"There now." She released his arm and it dropped like a dead fish between them. Try as he might he was paralyzed.
"Tell me about your boat," she purred.
"Well," Edward groped for words. "It's, it's outfitted with a twelve horsepower engine and can make it up the Stikine River without using lines."
She leaned nearer, eyes wide. "Is that good?"
"Why, yes. You can live aboard her, too."
"Imagine that," Ethelyn sighed and her hand dropped to rest on his. "Floating along with the scenery different every time you look out the window."
Prickles of delight charged through him and he moved his fingers to intertwine with hers. "You'd love it. Snow covered mountains and trees so tall you get a crick in your neck to see the tops. But, you'd probably be too scared of the bears and such."
"I don't reckon so," Ethelyn bristled and withdrew her hand. "I climbed the water tower."
"Then I don't guess you'd be scared if I kissed you right this minute, either."
Ethelyn stifled a gasp. "I'm not, if you're not!"
Edward cupped his fingers under her chin and, when she didn't draw away, leaned forward. Welcomed by the warmth of her lips, he lingered, lost in the sweetness of the kiss.
With effort, he sat back and worked to steady his voice. "Miss Pearson, I double dare you to marry me."
A timid smile crept up Ethelyn's face. "Well, it would be a shame to turn down a double dare, now wouldn't it."

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