A Mail Order Bride Arrived With a Sewing Machine and No Money—By Winter, She Employed the Whole Town
Chapter 3
The first person Anna hired was not a seamstress.
It was a twelve-year-old girl named Elsie Morgan.
Elsie lived with her grandmother above the bakery.
Her parents had died of influenza three years earlier.
She was small.
Quiet.
And incredibly fast with a needle.
Anna discovered this when Elsie came to collect her grandmother’s repaired dress.
“You did this?”
Anna asked.
Elsie nodded.
“My grandmother.”
“You sew?”
“A little.”
Anna handed her a scrap of cloth.
“Show me.”
Elsie took the needle.
Her fingers moved quickly.
The stitches were uneven.
But strong.
Anna smiled.
“You can work for me.”
Elsie stared.
“I can?”
“Three afternoons a week.”
“How much?”
“Ten cents an hour.”
Elsie’s eyes widened.
“That’s more than the bakery pays.”
“Then don’t tell the bakery.”
Elsie laughed.
That was the beginning.
Two weeks later, Anna hired Clara Reed.
Clara was thirty-eight and had four children.
Her husband had injured his leg at the sawmill.
She needed work.
Anna gave her twelve hours a week.
Then came Mary Thompson, the blacksmith’s wife.
Then Sarah Miller, who had been widowed the previous winter.
Soon, five women were sewing in Anna’s farmhouse.
The sewing machine never stopped.
Samuel built a larger table.
Then another.
He repaired the barn and turned half of it into a workshop.
People began bringing fabric.
Buttons.
Thread.
Old coats.
Broken blankets.
Anna transformed them.
A torn blanket became a child’s coat.
Old curtains became work shirts.
Damaged flour sacks became aprons.
Nothing was wasted.
By December, Anna had twelve women working with her.
But Walter Price wasn’t happy.
He came to the workshop one afternoon.
“You’re undercutting me.”
Anna looked up.
“I don’t make men’s suits.”
“You’re taking alterations.”
“I charge less.”
“Exactly.”
Anna placed her scissors down.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Leave.”
The room went silent.
Elsie looked frightened.
Clara stood.
“She isn’t hurting anyone.”
Walter glared.
“You stay out of this.”
Anna stepped between them.
“Walter.”
He looked at her.
“I don’t want your business.”
“Then what?”
“I want you to stop treating poor people like they don’t deserve good work.”
Walter’s face reddened.
“You don’t know anything about this town.”
“No.”
Anna nodded.
“But I know what hunger feels like.”
That silenced him.
Walter left.
Samuel entered ten minutes later.
“What happened?”
Anna explained.
Samuel looked angry.
“Do you want me to speak to him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I think he is afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Losing what he built.”
Samuel looked toward the women working.
“He should be.”
Anna smiled.
“Maybe.”
By Christmas, the workshop had become too small.
Samuel borrowed money from a friend and purchased an abandoned feed store.
They moved the operation there.
The sign above the door read:
BELLAMY CLOTHING & REPAIR
Anna’s name wasn’t on the legal papers.
Samuel insisted.
“You built this.”
Anna shook her head.
“We built it.”
The business grew.
Farmers ordered work clothes.
Hotels ordered linens.
The school ordered winter uniforms.
The railway requested canvas bags.
Anna hired more workers.
By January, twenty-six people had jobs.
Then the bank sent Samuel a letter.
He opened it at breakfast.
His face changed.
“What is it?”
Anna asked.
“The farm loan.”
“How much do we owe?”
“Three hundred dollars.”
“And?”
“They want payment by spring.”
Anna was silent.
Samuel continued.
“If I can’t pay, they take the farm.”
Anna looked toward the workshop.
“How much are we making?”
“Enough to cover wages.”
“Not profit?”
“Not yet.”
She thought.
Then asked,
“What does the town need?”
Samuel frowned.
“What?”
“Not what do they want.”
She smiled.
“What do they need?”
He didn’t understand.
Anna did.
People didn’t need expensive dresses.
They needed practical things.
Work clothes.
Blankets.
Coats.
Curtains.
Uniforms.
Bedding.
Durable goods.
So Anna began producing them.
The workshop changed.
They bought better machines.
Trained apprentices.
Created patterns.
They started taking orders from neighboring towns.
A traveling salesman arrived in February.
He examined their work.
“You’re producing at a remarkable rate.”
Anna nodded.
“We work hard.”
“I could sell these in Chicago.”
Anna smiled.
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
“What would you pay?”
He gave her a number.
Anna shook her head.
“Too low.”
He laughed.
“You’re in no position to bargain.”
Anna looked at him.
“You came here.”
The man stopped smiling.
Then offered more.
Anna accepted.
Within weeks, their clothing was being shipped beyond Mercy Creek.
Samuel watched the crates leave the workshop.
“You realize what’s happening?”
Anna smiled.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“We’re becoming a company.”
Samuel shook his head.
“No.”
Anna looked at him.
“We already are.”
