A Mid-Summer's Mail-Order Bride

by Kit Morgan

  “Ma, you ain’t old – and I ain’t a baby no more.”

  “Right you are, son. Matthew, do you mind if we stay a spell and visit while you do your work? Who knows how long it will take everyone to find the women?”

  Matthew nodded in agreement. “Not too long, I hope. Mrs. Riley and Miss Caulder have a wedding to plan.”

  “And I’ve got brides to order – three brides now,” said Mrs. Weaver, beaming at Daniel. “But we can’t do either if the ones we’re planning and ordering for aren’t here.”

  “That’s true,” Matthew agreed. “I just wish I knew where they all went.”

  * * *

  Spencer pinned up the last of the wanted posters, then stood back to look at his handiwork. Billy had taken to drawing big Xes on the ones they’d apprehended, and they’d been successful enough that the wall was beginning to look like a game of tic-tac-toe. All it needed was a few Os to make it official.

  He chuckled at the thought and turned. A flash of color caught his eye out in the street. A man ran by, then another. What was going on?

  He went to the door and out onto the boardwalk just as the fleeing men raced around a corner. Were they up to no good? He ran back inside, grabbed his hat, headed out again –and ran smack dab into Billy! “Oof!”

  “Umph!” Billy grunted as he bounced off Spencer, almost toppling over. “Sheriff!”

  “Billy!”

  “Sheriff!”

  Spencer straightened. Billy looked quite out of breath. “What’s all the ruckus?”

  “Sheriff … they’re here …the whole lot of ‘em!”

  “Whole lot of what?”

  “The Weavers!”

  “The Weavers! They’re here already? I didn’t expect to see them until tonight or tomorrow.”

  “Turns out they came early, on account Arlan wanted to make sure Samijo saw Doc Brown right away.”

  “Oh no! Is there something wrong with Arlan’s wife?”

  Billy grinned. “Nah – she’s just got what yer wife got.”

  Spencer was puzzled for a moment, then caught on. “Oh, I see. Well, good for them – but why were you and those other men tearing down the street a minute ago?”

  “Those were the twins - they’re lookin’ for yer wife!”

  “My wife! What for?”

  “‘Cause she’s gone missin’ – along with Mrs. Quinn.”

  “What?!”

  “Oh, and Warren Johnson’s bride - he asked me a minute ago if’n I’d seen her. Then the twins came a-runnin’ and asked if I’d seen yer wife or Mrs. Quinn.”

  Spencer stared at him, trying to keep calm. “And … have you?”

  “Nossir.”

  “All right, let’s split up. You start at one end of town, I’ll take the other.”

  “Yessir,” Billy said and headed off.

  Spencer, deciding he’d cover more ground on horseback, jumped off the boardwalk, mounted his gelding and was off. Hopefully Elle and Mrs. Quinn, not to mention Miss Caulder, had just gone over to Hank’s for lunch. The Weaver boys weren’t the brightest bunch, and the way they were running down the street, they probably hadn’t stopped to ask. To them it was one huge romp.

  But putting up wanted posters of outlaws that had been seen nearby had put Spencer in a grim frame of mind. He began to silently pray that whatever was going on was nothing more than fun and games.

  Seventeen

  Warren had checked Hank’s restaurant, the post office, the telegraph office, the mercantile (in case Bernice had gone back), the dressmaker’s shop – but no one had seen her! Where on earth had the woman gone?

  “Need any help, Apple Boy?”

  Warren jumped, then turned to see a preening Calvin at the entrance to an alley. “Stop calling me that!”

  Calvin laughed and slapped him on the back. “Don’t mean nothin’ by it. Ya know we like ya!”

  “Well … have you seen Bernice anywhere?”

  “’Fraid not – and we cain’t find our Aunt Betsy or Spencer’s wife neither.”

  “What? Where could they have gone?”

  “If’n I knew that, I wouldn’ta said we cain’t find ‘em!”

  Warren sighed. “True. Where have you looked so far?”

  “Benjamin and I done poked our heads into just about every place there is in this town. Benjamin just went to Doc Brown’s to fetch Arlan to help with the lookin’.”

  “Arlan? Good grief, how many people does it take to find one woman?”

  “Three women,” Calvin corrected.

  “Oh, yes.”

  Spencer rode up to them, forcing them to take a few steps in to the alley. “Have you seen Elle?”

  “I’m afraid not. Calvin here tells me he’s been searching for her and Mrs. Quinn. And Bernice is missing too!”

  Spencer noted Warren had used her Christian name, but tucked that information away for later. “No luck finding any of them?”

  “If we’d had any, we wouldn’t be standing here. And between all of us, we’ve checked the whole town. I can’t understand it.”

  Spencer dismounted. “I don’t want to alarm either of you, but I just put up some new wanted posters – and some of the outlaws were last seen not far from here.”

  “What was they wanted for?” Calvin asked.

  Spencer set his jaw. “Different things. But a couple were for abduction and murder.”

  “What?!” Warren said.

  “I’m not saying that’s what happened to the women, but …”

  “But it’s possible!” Calvin finished for him. His jovial demeanor was gone, his jaw as tight as the sheriff’s. He pushed past the other two men and headed into the street.

  “Where are you going?” Spencer called after him.

  Calvin turned. “To get my brothers and my gun.”

  Spencer almost choked. “Calvin, no – wait!” He mounted his horse and took off after him.

  Warren watched as he caught up to the man and tried to talk to him as he strode down the street. He shook his head, sighed and tried to figure out what to do next. Sheriff Riley’s information about outlaws in the vicinity had made his heart speed up – he had to stop and make himself breathe more evenly before going on. He was getting a deeper realization of how much he cared for Bernice Caulder, and how much it would hurt to lose her.

  As soon as he found her, he was going to ask Bernice to marry him. He just prayed that foul play hadn’t found her first.

  * * *

  “And this would work wonderfully as a veil,” Abbey Davis said as she held up some lace. “Mrs. Jorgenson, do you have this in ivory?”

  “I’m afraid not, but I have some pink,” Hanna Jorgenson the dressmaker replied.

  “Pink!” Bernice gasped. “I love pink! Can we see it?”

  “Certainly, but I’ll have to get it from the main storeroom. I’m sorry this one is such a mess, but I didn’t think anyone would be interested in any of these fabrics. They’re so outdated.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” Bernice told her. “This room is like a treasure chest!”

  Mrs. Jorgenson squeezed past Abbey to the door. “I hope no one’s come into the shop while we’ve been back here.”

  “Well, if they did, they probably just thought you’d stepped out for lunch,” Abbey said.

  “It is about lunch time, isn’t it? Wait here – I’ll be right back. In the meantime, Miss Caulder, pick what you like and I’ll see what I can do.” She maneuvered past barrels, boxes and scattered bolts of cloth, most of which had very little fabric left on them.

  “I hope Warren and the others don’t mind that you stole me away,” Bernice told Abbey.

  “Well, I’ll have to be getting back soon. But since Warren was dealing with the Weavers, I was sure you didn’t want to be in the middle of it. Those Weaver boys can get out of hand.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “What about this one?” asked Elle as she held up a piece of material. “It’s very pretty.”

  “The
re’s not enough there to work with, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Quinn told her. She pulled herself up from the box she’d been sitting on and stretched. “Land sakes, what time is it?”

  “Probably time to get back,” Elle said with a grin. “I don’t think anyone knows where we are.”

  “Nowhere ain’t that big – they’ll have no problem fetching us when they want,” Mrs. Quinn said. “But I suppose I’d best go and help Mary with Benjamin and Calvin’s letters. I’m going to have her use the same mail-order bride service you came from, Elle.”

  “Mrs. Ridgley’s? How wonderful! Could I send a little note along with your letters? I’d love to let her know how Summer and I are doing.”

  “Sure, go right ahead. You can write it as soon as we get back to the mercantile.”

  Elle was about to comment when a high-pitched scream rent the air. “Oh my! Was that Mrs. Jorgenson?”

  Bernice stood and headed for the door.

  “No, child,” Mrs. Quinn said as she grabbed her. “You stay out of sight, just in case. Let me go see what the trouble is.”

  “No, ma’am, I can’t let you do that. You stay here with Elle.”

  “Don’t argue with me - whoa!”

  Bernice had grabbed a metal pole, probably once part of a clothing rack, and pulled out of Mrs. Quinn’s grip before she could do or say anything more. She rushed out of the room, closing the door behind her and, quiet as a mouse, crept into the next storeroom.

  Something had happened inside her as she’d left the mercantile, after telling the nosey Weavers about the skunk incident – something similar to when the Johnsons had stayed for dinner that night. But that had been a little spark of boldness, while this felt more like a lightning strike.

  All her life, she’d been living at the whim of someone else, usually her domineering mother. She’d learned a lot from a lot of people – but she’d never taken her fate into her own hands until she’d headed off to become a mail-order bride. And then … then she’d let herself get tossed around by everyone else’s plans – Warren’s, his grandfather’s, the Rileys’. She’d fallen back into the old habit of being a pawn in someone else’s game.

  Well, enough was enough. So when Abbey Davis had seen her standing on the mercantile porch and, overhearing the Weavers, asked if she’d like to go somewhere else, she did. And wouldn’t you know it, they’d no sooner gone around the corner and into an alley when Mrs. Quinn and Elle came outside – they were headed for the pump to get water for tea. Elle had asked Bernice where she was heading …

  … and inspiration had struck. “I want to get a wedding dress! Do you have a dressmaker here in town?”

  Who knew that taking charge of her life would pay off so quickly? It turned out that Abbey had talked Mrs. Jorgensen into giving her scraps of fabric that she couldn’t sell, so Abbey could make a quilt as a wedding gift for her and Warren. Two minutes later, they were at the shop to see what they could use to sew a wedding dress, or at least make some accessories!

  And now, she was sneaking up to the front of the dress shop with a metal pole over her shoulder like a base ball player getting ready to bat. Good grief, what did she think she was going to do with it – clobber an outlaw over the head? But she wasn’t going to be background noise in her own life anymore. No, Mama, this is not the timid little mouse you thought you’d raised, she thought. Bernice Caulder – soon, God willing, to be Bernice Johnson – is going to take care of this!

  Slowly she moved toward the front, turned a corner … and froze when she saw Mrs. Jorgenson, her arms in the air and several guns pointed at her! “What’s going on here?” she said with more bravado than she expected.

  Mrs. Jorgenson slowly lowered her arms and looked over her shoulder at her. “Not to worry, not to worry … oh my goodness, what a fright!”

  Bernice stepped forward. Three of the Weaver men, all except Daniel, were armed to the teeth, each one pointing a gun at the dressmaker. “You put those away this instant or so help me!” she told them, brandishing the pole. “What are you trying to do, give this poor woman an attack?”

  They lowered them with sighs of relief. “Sorry, ma’am, but we thought you was some outlaw,” Benjamin – or was it Calvin? – said.

  Bernice gaped at them. “What? Does Mrs. Jorgensen look like an outlaw to you?!”

  “Step aside!” demanded a familiar voice. Warren shoved his way through them, took one look at her and glowered. “You!”

  For a moment, Bernice was prepared to take a step back. But no – she wasn’t stepping anywhere until she was good and ready. “Who were you expecting, General Lee?” she barked right back.

  Warren blinked at that, but pressed on. “We are getting married, do you hear me?”

  She smiled again. “Well, it’s about time!”

  “Yes, and I want no argu – wait, what?”

  “You heard me, Warren Johnson! I’m glad you finally made up your mind. The whole reason I came to this town was to marry you, and that never changed. We can get married as soon as possible as far as I’m concerned.”

  The twins looked at each other, then at the back of Warren’s head. “Woo-ee, looks like Apple Boy’s done got hisself a spitfire!” Calvin laughed.

  Warren spun, pulled his arm back and socked Calvin right in the nose, landing him right on his fundament. “I said don’t call me that!” He turned back to Bernice, closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. “You know, you scared the wadding out of me.”

  Bernice handed the pole to Mrs. Quinn, who had just arrived, and put her arms around his neck. “I apologize, Warren – I didn’t mean to.”

  He smiled. “And I apologize for being so indecisive. I guess I need to work on that.”

  “We both do, I suppose. But I know a good place to start.”

  “Do you, now? Where do you have in mind?”

  “Right … here,” she replied as she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him with everything she had.

  The Weaver boys cheered. Mrs. Jorgenson and Mrs. Quinn could only stare. Abbey and Elle, newly arrived, stood there with smiles on their faces.

  Mrs. Quinn was the first to move. “Looks like we’re gonna have a wedding! Oh, Leona!” She shoved past all of them and out the door. “Leonaaaaaaa!”

  Warren broke the kiss and pulled Bernice into a fierce hug. “I was scared something horrible had happened to you!”

  “No – something wonderful happened to me,” she said.

  “What was that?”

  She smiled into his chest. “I finally became my own woman. My own strong woman.”

  Tears came to Warren’s eyes. Strong – he liked the sound of that.

  “Just what did you think had happened?” Elle asked.

  “We thought you was taken by outlaws!” laughed Calvin.

  “Outlaws?!” Abbey and Mrs. Jorgenson cried in unison.

  “Yeah … ain’t that something’?” an embarrassed Benjamin chuckled.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” Elle asked.

  “Your husband,” Arlan said as he holstered his gun.

  Elle’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh … dear … Lord!”

  “He is a bit of a worrier,” Abbey remarked.

  “Oh, but this takes the cake!” Elle guffawed, almost doubling over in laughter.

  “We’d best go inform him we found all y’all,” Arlan said “Where were ya all this time?”

  “In my back storeroom,” Mrs. Jorgensen informed him. “You can’t hear anything back there, so if any of you came in, well …”

  “I stopped by, but I thought the place was empty,” Warren said. He looked at Bernice. “And it made me realize how empty my life would be without you in it … right now.”

  Bernice smiled. “Well, if that’s what it took to make you realize that, then I’m kind of glad it happened.”

  “Well, actually I figured it out yesterday. But this did rather … speed up the process. When I thought you might’ve come to harm, I decided that when I f
ound you, I’d ask you to marry me right away.”

  “You didn’t really ask so much as … demand,” she teased him.

  “I suppose I was a bit overwrought. But I always want to be near enough to take care of you.” He lowered his face to hers. “Emphasis on always.”

  “And you’ll be needing someone to take care of you. And that big old farm.”

  “You sure you’re up to it?” he whispered.

  “You want me to get that pole again?”

  “No … that won’t be necessary.” He kissed her, preventing any further threats.

  Bernice was vaguely aware of the Weaver boys sighing in the background. But she didn’t care. All she was sure of was that she could handle anything that came her way, and that she and the man holding her were soon to be married.

  Epilogue

  One week later …

  “You may kiss the bride,” the preacher announced.

  Warren smiled, pulled Bernice into his arms and did just that. Nellie Davis gasped but was quickly shushed by her husband.

  When Warren finally broke the kiss, it was Bernice’s turn to gasp. “Mercy!”

  “Indeed,” he whispered.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone wantin’ to get married as bad as you two,” Tom Turner, acting as best man, drawled then smiled at Warren. “Just think, if I hadn’t gone fishin’ the day the Weavers showed up, ya might not be standin’ next to yer bride right now.”

  A few folks in the front row laughed at that. Tom was right, of course. If the Weavers had arrived the following day as expected, the twins and Daniel would’ve been glued to his side wanting him to regale them with stories about his hometown of Clear Creek. But they’d showed up early, and Tom had taken the day off to drown a few worms. With Tom around, Benjamin, Calvin and Daniel wouldn’t have got riled up about hunting for the missing women and wouldn’t have gotten everyone else (especially Warren) as riled up either.

  Once they’d started talking about getting their guns before continuing the search, Warren had almost gone around the bend with worry. All he could think about was Bernice’s welfare – had she been hurt? Was she lost? His urge – no, need – to protect her had overpowered every other concern. Protecting her against a family of skunks and failing was one thing, but a potential band of outlaws was quite another.