The Whole Town's Talking (Elmwood Springs #4)

About five minutes later, Ollie Bersen, the hired hand, was on his way to work and saw the two of them, still in their nightclothes, sitting in the front yard, laughing their heads off. Ollie didn’t say anything, but he figured it must have been one wingdinger of a wedding night.

They must not have seen him, because all of a sudden Lordor leaned in and kissed her right on the lips. The bride must have liked it, because she threw her arms around him and kissed him right back. And in broad daylight, too. From the look of it, things were going well—so well, in fact, that Ollie was afraid to look, for fear of what they might be up to next.

But being human, once Ollie got safely inside the barn, he couldn’t help but turn and look back just in time to see Lordor scoop Katrina up off the ground and carry her up the front stairs and into the house. Oh, mercy! He figured he wouldn’t see Lordor down at the barn anytime soon, not that day at least.



EVEN THOUGH SWEET POTATO had almost ruined their wedding night, they had both learned a valuable lesson. No matter how hard you push, cajole, shove, beg, kick, or plead…pigs will not be rushed. Especially while they are eating leftover wedding cake. They also learned that the very best way to start a marriage was with a good laugh. Particularly when the children start coming.





1890



Dear Anna Lee, I think of you so often. How are you? I write to tell you that I am now a married lady and very happy. Lordor is more than I could have hoped for in a husband and so kind and gentle. Our house is not grand, but the surroundings are so lovely. The back of the house overlooks fields of wheat, barley, and clover. From my front porch, I can see the red barns of the dairy standing on the hills to the left. Every morning, the cows pass by on their way to the fields and back home that way at dusk. Oh, Anna Lee, if you could only see it, you would think you were home again.

Tell that boyfriend of yours that once called me a country mouse, that he was right. It is so quiet here on the farm. Lordor and I are asleep at dark and up at daybreak. But I love it.

I do hope you are happy and well, dear friend. Write and tell me so.

Love, Katrina



P.S. Lordor likes my glasses. Isn’t that wonderful?





Lordor and Katrina had been lucky. Over the years, the mail-order bride business had been fraught with pitfalls and disappointments. Some women traveled all the way from Europe, then spent months in a covered wagon, only to find that the man who met them at the other end was not the same man in the photograph sent, nor did he own a house and land as he had claimed.

Conversely, some men sent all their money to purchase the pretty young bride in the photograph, only to have the lady arrive months later, weighing many more pounds and years older than the photograph sent would suggest.

On both sides, it was a desperate game of chance. But, surprisingly, many marriages did work out, and the results helped populate the country with a hardy and adventurous stock. People were willing to travel anywhere, sacrifice anything, to own their own land, to be free and be independent.



KATRINA AND LORDOR’S FIRST YEAR together flew by. The house was becoming a real home, with white frilly curtains in the windows, rugs on the floor, and pictures on the wall. But most of all, Lordor and Katrina were happy together. She couldn’t wait for him to come home from work, and he couldn’t wait to get there. When they were out in public, he sat and stared at her with a stupid grin on his face. As Mrs. Tildholme said, “I’ve never seen two people act so silly over each other in all my life.”

And Lordor had been right about Katrina. From the start, Katrina wasn’t very strong physically, but she was brave and determined. The money she sent home had not been much, but it had kept her family from starving. Now, thankfully, her younger brother Olaf was old enough to get a farm job. Her next step was to try and get them all to America. She had promised her mother she would if she possibly could.





My Dearest Momma,

Thank you so much for your last letter. I am so glad the presents reached you in time. I am sure that little Brigette made a very lovely St. Lucia for the Christmas celebration. Tell her how proud I am that she was chosen.

We had a wonderful Christmas here as well. It was almost like being home. We even had a little snow. Mrs. Eggstrom and several of the other ladies prepared the Christmas Eve julbord over at the meeting hall. I brought lussekatters and your gingerbread cookies. Lordor and the men found the most beautiful big cedar Christmas tree and decorated it with candles and flags and little straw animals. At midnight, we lit all the candles and sang Swedish Christmas carols and fed the birds on Christmas Day, so I know we will have good luck all year round.

Oh, Momma, there is a part of me that misses home so much. We are all so very far away. But as you can see, Sweden is still in my heart, as are you.

Your loving daughter,

Katrina



P.S. My neighbor, Birdie Swensen, is teaching me how to knit. Hopefully, I will be able to send you a warm sweater next year.





Dear Katrina, Thank you for your letter. I was beginning to think a bear had eaten you or that you had forgotten old Chicago and me. Now I know why you don’t write. Hard to believe my little friend is now a mother. Congratulations to you. I know your husband must be happy it is a boy. I do like the name of Lordor Theodore Nordstrom. It is a good one.

We all sure miss you.

The new girl they hired to take your place is Dagmar Jensen from Gutenberg, and she looks it! She sits and eats and cries all night because her husband don’t write. I saw his photograph. Ah! Such a big fat block of cheese.

All the boys here still ask where’d you go, and I tell them you are an old farmer’s wife now. Not much news here, except that I have the keenest new boyfriend. His name is Hector, and he works as a ticket taker at the new Hippodrome. Me and all my friends get in free. He doesn’t have much money, but he has dash and is a real snappy dresser. Write to me again, will you? And come visit me sometime, before you get old and gray. Ha. Ha.

Anna Lee





In big cities, neighbors are nice to say hello to or maybe socialize with once in a while, but in small Missouri farming communities, neighbors were much more important than that. You depended on them for your very survival. It didn’t matter if you liked some more than others. They were your neighbors. And in Lordor’s community, considering they had all come from different places, and even the Swedish had come from different parts of Sweden, they were a pretty harmonious group.

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