A Mail Order Bride Arrived With a Sewing Machine and No Money—By Winter, She Employed the Whole Town
Chapter 2
Anna woke before sunrise.
The farmhouse was silent.
Samuel was already outside feeding the horses.
She dressed quickly and went to the kitchen.
There was flour.
Two eggs.
A small piece of bacon.
She made breakfast.
When Samuel entered, he stopped.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
He sat.
They ate quietly.
After breakfast, Anna asked,
“When is the town market?”
“Saturday.”
“Where?”
“Main Street.”
“Can I rent a table?”
Samuel looked confused.
“For what?”
“Sewing.”
“You’re going to sell clothes?”
“Repairs first.”
He frowned.
“People can buy clothes at the general store.”
“They can.”
“And there’s a tailor.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Anna smiled.
“Because his prices are too high.”
Samuel stared.
“How do you know that?”
“I asked.”
“Who?”
“The stationmaster.”
Samuel laughed.
“You really do ask everyone questions.”
Anna gathered her coat.
“Questions are free.”
She walked into town carrying the sewing machine.
Samuel followed reluctantly.
Mercy Creek had fewer than five hundred residents.
There was a general store.
Blacksmith.
Church.
Schoolhouse.
Barber.
Hotel.
Bank.
And a tailor named Walter Price.
Walter was sixty.
He had been the only tailor in town for twenty-seven years.
When he saw Anna setting up a small table outside the general store, his expression hardened.
“What are you doing?”
“Working.”
“This is my business.”
Anna looked at him.
“I am not selling suits.”
“You’ll be taking my customers.”
“I don’t think so.”
Walter pointed at the sewing machine.
“You don’t belong here.”
Samuel stepped forward.
“That’s enough.”
Walter looked at him.
“You married her?”
“Yes.”
“Then you better learn something.”
“What?”
“This town doesn’t like outsiders.”
Anna heard every word.
She simply sat down.
A farmer approached with a torn shirt.
“How much?”
Anna examined it.
“Ten cents.”
Walter snorted.
“I charge twenty-five.”
The farmer looked at Anna.
“Can you fix it today?”
“Yes.”
He handed her the shirt.
By noon, Anna had repaired eleven garments.
She charged between five and fifteen cents.
People began gathering.
A mother brought a child’s coat.
A miner brought work trousers.
A hotel maid brought a torn apron.
A young boy brought a pair of gloves.
Anna fixed everything.
Fast.
Carefully.
By sunset, she had earned one dollar and forty-two cents.
Samuel stared at the money.
“You made that today?”
“Yes.”
“You’re keeping it?”
“No.”
“What?”
Anna counted the coins.
“Forty cents for thread.”
She put the rest aside.
“Tomorrow I need cloth.”
Samuel frowned.
“Why?”
“I want to make something.”
“What?”
“Children’s coats.”
“Why?”
“Winter.”
He looked at the calendar.
“It isn’t winter yet.”
Anna nodded.
“That is why we have time.”
The next morning, she bought fabric from the general store.
The owner, Mr. Thompson, was surprised.
“Planning to make dresses?”
“Coats.”
“How many?”
“Twenty.”
He laughed.
“You’d need more money than that.”
Anna placed her coins on the counter.
“I’ll pay for ten yards.”
“That won’t make twenty coats.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“It will make ten.”
He stared at her.
“You’re planning to sell them?”
“No.”
“Then why make them?”
“For children whose parents can’t afford them.”
Mr. Thompson shook his head.
“That’s bad business.”
Anna nodded.
“Maybe.”
Then she carried the fabric home.
For the next week, the sewing machine ran from morning until midnight.
Samuel woke several times to the sound of the needle moving.
At first, he found it strange.
Then he began helping.
He cut buttons.
Measured sleeves.
Carried fabric.
One evening, he asked,
“Why are you doing all this?”
Anna didn’t look up.
“My mother taught me.”
“What?”
“That if you have two hands and someone nearby has none, you use yours.”
Samuel sat quietly.
By Saturday, ten small coats hung in the farmhouse.
They were simple.
Warm.
Beautiful.
Anna carried them into town.
She gave them away.
One to a miner’s daughter.
One to the hotel cook’s son.
One to a widow’s grandson.
People began talking.
Not about the mail-order bride anymore.
About the woman who worked all night to make coats for children.
And then something unexpected happened.
A woman named Clara Reed approached Anna.
“I have six dresses that need repairing.”
Anna nodded.
“Bring them Monday.”
Clara hesitated.
“I don’t have much money.”
Anna smiled.
“Then pay what you can.”
Clara looked at her.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
Clara nodded.
“I’ll bring them.”
That afternoon, Anna received three more customers.
By Sunday evening, she had a waiting list.
Samuel looked at it.
“That’s thirty-seven garments.”
Anna smiled.
“Yes.”
“Can you do all of that?”
“Not alone.”
She looked toward town.
Then at Samuel.
“Maybe I don’t have to.”
