Chapter One
Marrick Underhill stood on the platform of the Lankershim Station, outwardly appearing the prosperous woman she left behind in Chicago. Having learned in her 28 years of life that looks were important in business matters, she carefully selected her attire today.
If there were anyone to see, they would have observed a slender, tall woman sporting an impeccably tailored gray broadcloth suit with mutton sleeves and subtle embroidery on the wide collar, skirt hem and peplum. Her high-collared, dainty, white cotton blouse gave a nod to femininity as did the intricately tied, striped ribbon on her wide-brimmed, black hat. Her blond tresses were so carefully arranged, no bystander would believe she recently traveled halfway across the country. The furrow in Marrick’s brow did not detract from the beauty of her vivid blue eyes as she scanned the platform for any sign of life.
Tapping her foot impatiently, Marrick was impressed with Mr. Blackstone’s careful management of her travel arrangements to this point. Even when she discovered only one train a day stopped at the Lankershim Station, her concern proved unfounded. Mr. Blackstone’s ticket placed her on the appropriate train.
Doubts invaded her thoughts during her headlong flight from Chicago and currently nibbled at Marrick’s consciousness. It was common enough for a man to advertise for a wife in Eastern newspapers. There simply weren’t enough eligible women to go around in the West, even in these modern times. It was an everyday event when some woman—an old maid, a girl devoid of marital prospects, the less-than-attractive, scandal-ridden, or even a woman of ill repute—responded to these ads. Although Marrick definitely qualified as an old maid, she hadn’t been interested in matrimony since she turned 16. Her own reasons for coming West were complex.
What if Mr. Blackstone did not appear? His looks did not matter to the lovely Miss Underhill but what if the man were old and decrepit? What if he were hideously ugly? Worse yet, what if he were dumb as a rock? That particular possibility might make the man more easily manipulated. One could always find a bright side to any situation if persistence were applied. There was the consolation annulment would be possible, although if Mr. Blackstone was true to his word, her concerns would prove unwarranted.
Deep in reflection, Marrick was startled when a man rounded the corner of the station, hat in hand. If this was Mr. Blackstone, he appeared to be in his early 30s. He was quite tall with blue eyes. His wavy brown hair was combed straight back. Clean shaven and bronze from working in the sun, he walked toward her determinedly.
“Miss Underhill?” As Marrick smiled, Mr. Blackstone was immediately intrigued by the prominent dimples in her cheeks.
“And you must be Mr. Blackstone.”
“Sorry I’m late. Is this your only bag?” He eyed a carpetbag at her feet. “I’m impressed. You travel light.”
“This is my bag but I also have two trunks at the other end of the platform.”
“Well, I’ll load those in my buckboard and we can go on to the preacher.”
“You’ll need help.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ll need help. The trunks are heavy.”
“I see.”
Marrick noted Mr. Blackstone’s displeasure. “I had a difficult time fitting all my worldly possessions in only two trunks,” she explained as she accompanied him to the far end of the platform and watched him lift one end of a trunk.
“You’re right. I’ll get someone inside the station to help.”
Standing beneath the overhang of the platform to avoid the hot sun, Marrick waited while the two men loaded her trunks in the wagon. The time for backing out was drawing to a close. She might appear the epitome of calm decisiveness but Marrick definitely felt a surge of panic as Mr. Blackstone helped her climb into his wagon.
“The church is just ahead,” he explained.
“What is this place called?” inquired Marrick. “The station clearly says Lankershim, but you wrote Toluca on your letters. It says Toluca on the post office.”
Mr. Blackstone chuckled. “You’ve hit upon the controversy of the century. Los Angeles County created the Lankershim School District here so the Southern Pacific used that name on the train station. The proponents of the name Toluca convinced the federal government the post office should bear that name. The war rages on. You best decide where you stand before you settle in. Are you for Lankershim or Toluca?”
“Which one are you for?”
“I truly don’t care.”
“I suppose I shall adopt the same stance, when I’m asked.”
“Oh, that’s not advisable. It’s much shrewder to smile knowingly and agree with whoever is badgering you. Everyone hereabouts is bound one way or another. Let everyone think you’re on their side.”
“How wise of you,” Marrick agreed. They rode in silence for a few moments before she continued, “I have a few questions before the ceremony. I hope you don’t mind. I’d like to clarify the information in your letter.”
“There is usually an element of courtship in these matters and a hasty wedding is not commonplace,” Mr. Blackstone replied. “But since there is no romance involved, I thought this the most expedient way to proceed.”
“Yes. You’re right. Of course.”
Mr. Blackstone stopped his buckboard in front of a small church then turned to Marrick and proceeded to outline their agreement. “To verify, I promise to support and protect you. In return, you will manage my household. I only request basic housekeeping skills—cooking, cleaning, washing and caring for my daughter. You will launder and cook for my boys; otherwise they are my responsibility. As I agreed, you can spend any spare time pursuing your own interests but I intend to give the appearance of normalcy and propriety. This is a business agreement; there will be no obligations of a physical nature. You have my word.”
“May I ask the reason for this arrangement? I assume you could have chosen a local woman.”
“I can see you might be curious, being a female and all. My wife died in childbirth three years ago. I remain devoted to her. She was the love of my life—irreplaceable. However, I find myself relentlessly pursued by unmarried women hereabouts. My daughter is passed from one hopeful sweetheart to the next. My household is in disarray. I am counting on you, Miss Underhill, to solve these problems.”
“I see. Do you have questions? I’d be glad to respond to any concerns you might have.”
“I have no questions or concerns. You assured me you can cook and keep house. That’s all I need to know.”
“You never mentioned how many children you have. There is one girl?”
“Yes, Gwynne is three. Earl is ten and Blaine is eight.”
At this, Mr. Blackstone crawled from the wagon and lifted Marrick to the ground. “Shall we, then?”
“Yes,” agreed Marrick.
No sooner did they enter the chapel than a grim-faced man of God approached.
“Miss Underhill, this is Reverend Jones.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance.” Marrick offered her hand to shake the Reverend’s.
Reverend Jones cleared his throat and took her hand, more out of respect for convention than fellowship. The Reverend did not appear eager to add a lamb to his fold. “I need a word, Linc.”
“Miss Underhill is about to become my wife. Anything you have to say can be told to her.”
“This is a farce, Lincoln Blackstone. You may be my dearest friend but I have ethical concerns about this marriage of yours.”
“For instance?”
“So, you will force me to be rude and comment in front of the lady?”
Mr. Blackstone only smiled in response.
“Very well. For beginners, how can you hand your children over to a complete stranger?” The short and stocky Reverend Jones eyed the bride-to-be and made a quick assessment. She certainly did not look to be a desperate woman, unable to attract suitors. Tastefully attired, she did not appear to be of ill repute.
“For a man of God, you’re not very trusting,” commented Linc. “Besides, I’ve handed Gwynne over to strangers her entire life. That never seemed to bother you.”
“At least those were ladies of our community. You knew something about them.”
“I know something about Miss Underhill. I assure you, Clement, she’s entirely trustworthy.”
The reverend chose a different tack. “Come along, Miss Underhill,” and taking the woman’s arm, he started for his office.
“What are you doing, Clem?”
“If you want me to perform this ceremony, you must be patient while I interview Miss Underhill.”
Marrick soon found herself seated opposite the Reverend, who glared at her across his desk. She returned his stare with her most serious and practiced scowl.
“I am appalled at the idea behind this marriage.”
“You won’t perform the ceremony? I feel certain we can go to a justice of the peace. Perhaps Mr. Blackstone wanted you in attendance since you are such dear friends but if that is impossible—”
“You’re a cool one, I’ll give you that. How can you marry a stranger? What did you send, one or two letters? You can’t possibly know anything about each other. It’s highly improper to step off a train and marry immediately. There should be a courtship or at least some period of time when you get to know each other.”
“I assure you, Reverend, it’s not necessary.” Marrick’s doubt was quickly abandoned, a victim of her temper. She was as intent to marry Mr. Blackstone as she could be. No one would prevent her from implementing her plans.
“You’re willing to give yourself to a man who might treat you harshly or even beat you?”
“Did Mr. Blackstone beat his first wife?”
“No.”
“Did he treat her cruelly?”
“Assuredly not. They were a loving couple.”
“Then why would you assume your dearest friend has become a reprobate? Has he turned to liquor?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand. Why disparage Mr. Blackstone? However, you have thoroughly answered my questions. I have no doubts whatsoever. Shall we go ahead then?”
Not understanding how he lost control of the conversation, Clem frowned and gathered his Bible from the desk. “This way, Miss Underhill.”
An elder who administered the church finances was quickly enlisted as a witness. Marrick couldn’t decipher her husband’s mood as he said the fateful, “I do,” and placed a simple gold band on her finger. If Marrick dreamed of her wedding day when she was a girl, those fantasies were laid to rest for all time as she said her own, “I do,” to this stranger.
She briefly soothed her guilty conscience with the idea her marriage was not traditional in any way. For her part, she intended to be the best wife she could be, aside from the biblical knowing of each other.
The end of the ceremony proved the most awkward as Reverend Jones rather maliciously urged Mr. Blackstone to kiss his bride. Marrick received a discreet peck on the cheek but noticed her husband’s frown as the Reverend announced the new Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone. Marrick understood there would be no replacing the initial Mrs. Blackstone but that was never her intent.
No sooner was the ceremony complete than a dainty and diminutive woman appeared at the door to Reverend Jones’ office. Without so much as a word, the woman garnered everyone’s attention.
“What are you doing up, dearest?” inquired the Reverend.
“I’m feeling quite well, Clem. Is this the day then? Have I missed the ceremony?”
If ever Marrick wondered what it was to appear angelic, she now had a vivid example. The raven-haired and pale Mrs. Jones seemed to float toward the newly-wedded couple. Her warm smile exuded gentle kindness. Marrick displayed her dimples as the woman took her hands.
“Linc is a dear friend. We wish you all the happiness in the world, don’t we, Clem?” Marrick noticed Mrs. Jones did not wait for a response. “We would enjoy having you come for supper, wouldn’t we, Clem?” Having little choice but to follow along as Mrs. Jones took her arm and led her down the aisle and out of church, Marrick turned her head to find the two men following impotently behind.
“Isn’t this too much for you, beloved?” inquired Reverend Jones, impatiently.
“Nonsense. Hattie prepared supper and she will stay to serve and clean up. It’s the least we can do. Now, Mrs. Blackstone—how thrilling. I must be the first to call you by your new name. I want to know all about you.”
This request caused Marrick some concern. How did one admit to a marriage of convenience? Further, how did one explain anything that smacked of inappropriate motivation to an angel? But Marrick need not have worried. Mrs. Jones was a conversationalist supreme and rarely allowed her guest the chance to speak, not only on the walk to the manse but throughout supper, as well.
The charming Mrs. Jones was a fountain of information regarding the weather, neighbors, parishioners, trains, farming, local lore and history. Marrick could not help but wonder how Mrs. Jones appeared on a good day, if her husband’s concerns were accurate.
“Have you ever been West before?” inquired Mrs. Jones over dinner.
Frequently interrupted when asked a question, Marrick hesitated to be certain she’d be permitted an opportunity to reply. “No, never.”
“Well, it’s not the wild, untamed place you read about in books. But there are dangers. Even prosperous businessmen have been known to underestimate our valley. Luckily, you married a clever man! Fortunes have been lost here, let me tell you.”
“Here, in this place?”
“I know it doesn’t look like much. It wasn’t so long ago, nothing was here but oats as far as the eye could see and Indians living in villages around the perimeter of the basin. The Spanish settled here and built the mission you see to the north—San Fernando Rey. It’s in shambles now. I hear it’s being used for pig farming or some such thing.
“First, they tried raising sheep and cattle, but a terrible flood ended that enterprise. Then they raised wheat. Fire raged through the valley, although there are still plenty of wheat growers here. I’m sure you know Linc makes extra money with his team when it’s harvest time.
“So far, the orchards around Lankershim are about the best thing going. We have the advantage of live oaks due to the high-water table but most of the land hereabouts is flat and dry.
“San Fernando used to be the last train stop going north. It’s still the biggest town in our valley but I’m certain Lankershim will eclipse it soon. Speculators selling lots offered half-price train fare to go up to San Fernando and have a look around. Why, a man could get off the train and dine in style amongst beautiful companions in the days of the real estate boom, which is over.
“I must warn you, although I’m certain Linc already has, there are perils here. We have bears and coyotes, bobcats and rattlesnakes. They say there are mountain lions but I’ve never seen one. The wind can blow terrible. We occasionally get severe sandstorms in the summer.”
As Clem listened to his wife’s litany of hazards, he began to think he should have let her speak before the wedding. She seemed to be doing her best to discourage the new Mrs. Blackstone. He decided to pitch in. Perhaps the woman would decide to take the train back to Chicago tomorrow if she were sufficiently terrified.
Clem eyed the bride’s delicate features and fashionable attire. His own wife was not cut out for this way of life. This newcomer likely led a pampered life back East. He knew without doubt Linc intended to work her as near to death as he could manage.
“I’m afraid this is quite the rugged life, not at all what you’re used to.” But hopes of saving Linc from himself and Mrs. Blackstone from her husband were quickly dashed.
“I assure you, I’m not the frightening sort. I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.”
Mrs. Jones commented, “Whatever are you suggesting, Clem? Oh, I almost forgot to mention, there’s a 4th of July picnic at the Narrows. You simply must come. You’ll be settled in by then and everyone will want to meet you.”
Marrick could not manage to stifle her yawn as the dessert course was cleared from the table. Mrs. Jones patted her hand.
“You must be exhausted from your journey. Linc, take proper care of your lovely bride. She’s been on a long trip and here we are, monopolizing your wedding evening.”
Marrick found herself seated in the buckboard in short order. She turned to wave farewell to Mrs. Jones but was unable to hide her scowl for the Reverend. Perhaps she was too tired for pretense.
“What a lovely meal.”
“Git up Abe!” Linc slapped the reins to begin their journey home.
“Abe?”
“Yes. Since I’m named for a president, my wife thought it would be clever to name the horses thusly. We also have an Andy, George, and Ulysses.”
“What’s wrong with Mrs. Jones?”
“She was ill several years ago, right after my wife died. I mean, my first wife. I’m sorry, I keep doing that.”
“Do you always refer to her so frequently?”
“No, but she keeps coming to mind.”
“I imagine it’s only natural. I’m certain this was nothing like your first wedding.”
“We were young and knew each other all our lives. It was a long-planned, family event. If this bothers you, we can talk about something else.”
“What was her name?”
“Whose name?”
“Your first wife. We can hardly go on speaking of her as your wife.”
“Oh, her name was Rachel. I sincerely didn’t intend to discuss her, especially tonight.”
“It’s not as if we are a romantic couple on their way to honeymoon. I understand your feelings are for Rachel. It doesn’t upset me. You can speak of her as much as you like.” Marrick turned to have a better look at her new husband. He had a strong jaw with a slight cleft. She imagined his hair was darker than she first observed, no doubt streaked with lighter shades due to working in the sun. His gray tweed suit was nicely cut considering the remoteness of their location. No wonder local women were after the eligible Mr. Blackstone.
“I see. Thank you.” But Linc wasn’t certain why he should thank anyone. Although he felt committed to his decision to marry, today was proving more awkward than he anticipated. “Lankershim had the first school in the valley. This is our second, newer school. My boys go there. Guess the name. I’ll give you a hint. There’s only two to pick from.”
“So, it has to be Lankershim or Toluca. Since you said the school district is named Lankershim, I’ll choose that one.”
“Good choice. Anyway, you asked about Mrs. Jones—Sarah. She was ill and never fully recovered. She’s not a sturdy woman, quite delicate. Clem babies her, perhaps more than he should. All they have is each other.”
“Never any children?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad. I think Sarah would make a wonderful mother.”
“I take it you don’t care for Clem?”
“I hope I wasn’t obvious. When someone tries to make decisions for me, it riles me up. I was never so certain I wanted to marry you as when he urged me not to.”
“Then, you do have concerns?”
“This is a new life for me, different from what I’m used to.”
“But you said you lived on a farm.”
“I grew up on a farm. Have no doubt about my ability to run your household. I cared for my uncle’s home in Chicago since I was 16 but that was managing servants. Believe me, when you know how to do the work yourself, you appreciate when someone does a good job and recognize completely when they perform poorly. My uncle was correct in having me come to supervise. The housework in his home was shoddy.”
“Sixteen is young to run a household.”
“Some of my uncle’s employees worked for him longer than I had been alive. They didn’t take well to instruction from me.”
Linc took interest in that comment. Perhaps this woman would have the backbone to put his house in order and keep the gossips at bay. “But you were able to manage his household?”
“Oh, yes. It took some time, naturally. My uncle gave his full support, which helped immensely,” Marrick replied as she studied what seemed an endless string of orchards along the road.
“Then, I’ll be sure to support you fully in your endeavors in my house—our house. Why did you live with your uncle?”
“Sixteen was a defining year in my life. My mother passed away. My father and his brother had a falling out when they were young men. Uncle Landon was rather like the prodigal son.
“My grandfather owned a farm in Illinois. Uncle Landon wanted his cut so he could go to Chicago and make his own way in the world. Unlike his biblical counterpart, he made a success of himself. Buying out his share of the farm cost dearly. My father struggled to make ends meet his entire life. When Uncle Landon sent for me, it was clearly a relief to my father. It was supposed to be an opportunity for me to find a stable and financially secure match. My entire life was spent preparing for marriage.”
“What happened? You never married?”
“No. Once I took control of my uncle’s household, I took an interest in his business affairs. He suffered from a medical malady and often worked at home. He frequently conducted meetings there. At first, he indulged my opinions. But as years went by, he came to count on my business acumen and personal observations of character. For my part, I became more intrigued by business management than matrimony.”
“So why did you leave your uncle?”
“I didn’t. He left me. He passed away.”
“And he left you without resources?”
“The resources had strings. I wasn’t interested in the strings.”
“Oh, I see. Another man trying to make decisions for you.”
Marrick bit her lip thoughtfully. “It won’t bother you if I take full charge of household duties? I am free to keep your house in any manner I see fit?”
“I will not have any say as far as the inside of the house is concerned. You have free rein. I’m afraid my home currently reflects my complete ignorance of how to run a household.”
“But you did have help?”
“To be sure. My wife’s mother, er, the children’s grandmothers both pay visits and have been of help. But the help I hired were either interested in matrimony themselves or eager to foist daughters or nieces on me. They moved on quickly when their methods proved ineffective. My daughter had so many caretakers, I doubt I could count them all.”
“Tell me about your children.”
“Earl and Blaine are typical boys. They have chores to do every day. They keep the chickens and milk the cow. You needn’t bother with those chores. The boys also help care for the horses and mules. They do all right in school but school will soon be out.”
“And your daughter?”
“There’s not much to say about Gwynne. To be honest, I know little about girls.”
Marrick paid attention when her groom turned the wagon off the main road and drove through more orchards toward an immaculate farm. She noticed the incredibly flat valley beyond and mountains in the distance.
“What do you grow here?”
“I have walnuts and peaches. I was able to purchase some additional property recently. My neighbor gave up farming. He grew pears, so now I have pears.”
“Why did he give up?”
“There was a huge land boom when we first came but farming continues to be good here. We formed The Toluca Fruit Growers Association recently. There’s water from both the Los Angeles and the Pacoima Rivers. My neighbor’s sons left for Los Angeles. The lure of the big city drew them away. That’s a common occurrence. There was no one to help work the farm. Chinese come in to work at harvest time. The day-to-day labor became an issue.”
“Los Angeles is hardly a big city.”
“It’s bigger than you might think and growing every day. I’ll have to take you soon.”
Though the daylight was waning, it was obvious Mr. Blackstone took great care of his property. A barn was settled to the north of a freshly painted white house with forest green trim. Several oak trees sheltered the buildings. Rose bushes and hortensias grew in abundance around the perimeter of the house. There appeared to be a sizeable kitchen garden behind. Sudden panic at the idea Marrick would soon be a permanent resident of this new and strange place prompted her next questions.
“Are your children here? Do they know about me?”
“The boys stayed the night at a school chum’s home. They’re spending tomorrow night, as well. I thought it would give you a chance to settle in. The children don’t know about you yet. I wanted to be sure you showed up before I tried to explain. I mean, it didn’t seem wise to bring up the subject of my marriage until it was accomplished,” Linc added in an effort at diplomacy.
Marrick allowed her husband to show her inside the house. The out-of-doors may have been impeccable but the interior was a disaster. Belongings were strewn about, covered by a layer of grime. An unpleasant odor emanated from the kitchen. Dirty dishes were piled everywhere, including underneath the modern, four-legged, porcelain sink.
Linc watched his bride’s expression as he gave her a downstairs tour. If she were at risk of leaving, this would prove the defining moment. “I did warn you,” he admitted.
“It’s nice you have a bathroom,” Marrick noted as she spied a bathtub and water closet in a room adjoining the kitchen.
“I promised my wife a certain number of modern conveniences to encourage her to move. We lived with her parents on their farm when we first married. I know everything is in rough shape—”
“I think it best I take this all in once I have some sleep.” Marrick gave a weak smile, enough to display her dimples. “Can you show me to my room?”
“Certainly. I’ll bring your carpet bag and throw a tarp over your trunks. We can take care of those tomorrow.”
Overwhelmed with the daunting job ahead, Marrick washed up using water from the ewer in her room, donned her nightgown and collapsed onto the musty bed.