Chapter 2
Angel Creek, Montana Territory, November 1870
Cole Beckett whistled while whittling a piece of wood into a toy horse the size of his palm.
“Howdy, Beckett!”
Cole looked up from his work.
A man with a long peppered beard and a top hat entered the workshop. “Harold, you there?”
Cole shook his head and grinned. “It’s me, Mr. Dubson. It’s Cole.”
“Oh.” The man took off his hat and shook Cole’s hand. “Right, of course. I’m sorry, I forgot. Still keep thinking it’s good ol’ Harold at work here. You look a lot like your father.”
“Well, how can I help you?” Cole smiled at him, and presented his workshop. “Wooden toys? Rocking horse?”
“Actually, my granddaughter, Sofia, she…” He cleared his throat.
“Would she like a rocking horse?” Cole prided himself on making rocking horses. He picked up blocks of wood and hummed an old church song.
“Actually, she’s dead.”
The chuckle got stuck in Cole’s throat. Sometimes he forgets he wasn’t making just toys and furniture in his workshop. “Oh. I’m sorry.” He immediately wiped away the smile off his face. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
The man nodded. “Yes, well, I need two caskets. One for my granddaughter, and one for my father-in-law.”
He plucked a piece of paper from the pocket of his coat. “Here are their measurements. I can’t imagine you’d encounter many commissions for a four-year-old.”
Cole nodded and took the paper. “I’ll come by your place when it’s ready. And give my condolences to Mrs. Dubson.”
“Actually, she’s right outside the shop.” Mr. Dubson looked over his shoulder and glared at someone. He turned back to Cole and shrugged. “She’s not really comfortable with being inside an undertaker’s shop.”
Cole gave a small smile. “It’s not like I keep a lot of caskets on display. I try not to keep things gloomy in here.”
“Maybe that’s part of the problem, Cole.” Mr. Dubson coughed and sat on one of the wooden stools scattered in his shop. “You know the people in this town. Many of them think you should be more serious.”
“You mean grim like my father?”
“Your father was a hard-working man who did his job without complaint or - or –”
“Joy?”
Mr. Dubson shook his head. “You’re an undertaker, son. It’s unnerving to see you singing while carving up someone’s coffin.”
Cole sighed, biting back a remark, while Mr. Dubson stood up and tipped his hat. “Anyway, just send word when you finish the caskets.”
“Sure will, Mr. Dubson.”
The man left and Cole began circling his shop for supplies.
“You will eat the fruits of your labor,” he sang under his breath as he went about gathering his supplies.
“Let’s look at the sizes.” He glanced at the paper, then looked around for his tools. “All right. Where are my nails? Ah, here. Saw. Chisel. Hammer…” He turned around, placing a pencil behind one ear. “Where’s my hammer? Where on earth is my hammer, Paul?”
He stopped mid-turn, and placed his hands on his work table. He shook his head, as if clearing away cobwebs in his mind. His dead brother’s name still lingered in his mind. He rubbed his face and took a deep breath.
“Right.” Cole gathered his tools and started measuring the piece of wood.
“Mail! Get your mail!” He barely finished when a boy’s voice broke the silence. Young Tim Locke passed by the shop, shouting at the top of his lungs. He was Nell Dubson’s nephew and the loudest rascal in town.
“Hey, there, Tim.”
The boy turned around and frowned, eyes darting sideways. Cole sighed. He could only imagine what the boy’s mother had been telling him about the suspiciously jolly undertaker, who hums while he embalms dead bodies.
“Uh, G-good mornin’ to ye, Mr. Beckett.”
“Do you have a letter for me?”
The boy immediately pulled out a thin envelope and handed it to Cole with a grin
“Thanks, Tim.” The boy nodded and went around town.
Cole could barely contain his excitement, as he opened the letter. The moment he saw the elegant paper and the neat handwriting his heart jumped to his throat.
Dear Mr. Beckett,
My name is Mercy Elkwood, a young woman of 18 years, looking to correspond with a kind, young man such as yourself.
It was a blur of smudged words, and only one thing penetrated the pounding in Cole’s ears. Someone had finally answered his ad. He took a deep breath. He found his bride.
* * *
It took a few more letters, but in the span of eight weeks, Cole was going to be a married man, albeit with less money than a week before.
Cole walked into the empty he church, save for the Reverend Nathan Shepard and his sister, Claire. They were busy sweeping between the pews, but the reverend looked up when Cole’s boots pounded lightly against the floorboards.
“Ah, Cole, what brings you here?” The pastor put aside his broom and straightened up. “It’s been weeks since we last talked!”
Cole shrugged. “Work kept me away. Anyway, I have something for the church.” He held out an envelope. Pastor Shepard took it, brows scrunched in confusion.
“Oh, thank you, Cole.” He pocketed the envelope and smiled. “The Lord rewards those who are generous.”
“I hope so.” Cole chuckled, shaking off the cold settling at the pit of his stomach. “I’m getting married.”
The pastor’s eyebrows shot up to the heavens, and his sister, Claire ran over to them, with a smile on her face. “Who is it? Is it Maria, the baker’s daughter?”
“Uh, no, her name’s Mercy.”
Claire wiped her hands in her dark, wrinkled apron. She frowned. “But there’s no Mercy in town.”
“We’ve corresponded.” Cole pocketed his hands. He threw a glance at Pastor Shepard, who cleared his throat.
The older man turned to his sister. “Claire, could you please take the linens at the altar for laundry? Cole and I need to catch up.”
Claire narrowed her eyes at her older brother, but nodded and left.
Pastor Shepard clasped his hands in front of his chest and sighed. “I’m guessing you met your bride through the papers?”
Cole pursed his lips and nodded.
“And you’ve been sending letters for a few weeks now?”
“Almost two months. She’s a very kind woman.”
“I’m sure.” The Reverend placed a hand on Cole’s shoulder and steered him towards the dais. “Listen, Cole, we haven’t talked much since your father’s death –“
Cole chuckled. “I’m right as a trivet, Reverend. I’m gonna be a married man. In fact, I was hoping for you to preside our wedding in a few days…”
“Few days?” Pastor Shepard paused for a moment, but Cole just kept smiling.
“Uhm, of course, a wedding is a wondrous celebration, a union of two souls under God’s blessing, but you and Mercy… Perhaps you should spend a week, or two, together before tying the knot.” The pastor squeezed Cole’s shoulder.
“What’s she like, your bride?”
“She grew up in an orphanage managed by the Sisters of Charity and Father Hector, a Jesuit.”
Pastor Shepard smiled. “A Jesuit? I think I might’ve met him before, then. What does Mercy do?”
“She’s just turned eighteen a few months ago, and already she’s taken on the role of a teacher. She’s been helping around the orphanage a lot.”
“’He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the Lord’.” The Reverend clapped Cole on the arm. “I hope to meet Mercy soon.”
They grasped each other’s arms and Cole left with a light heart.
* * *
His shirt was a bit smudged near the first button, but aside from that he was clean – well, as clean as one could be in the sunbaked West. He raced to the station
holding down the hat, to keep it from falling. The boots he had brushed so carefully were now caked with soft earth. He knew he was late when the church bell rang. The coach was to arrive at eleven.
He wanted to hit himself on the head. How could have he forgotten? It wasn’t like he could rely on anyone else in town to remind him.
Late to their first meeting. What was she going to think? Would she refuse to marry him? He wondered if that was his fate, if he was being punished for what he did last fall. Everyone in town seemed to think so.
He rounded the corner and his heart thumped hard against his chest. She was as she described in the letter. Lithe and pale, and dressed in a light reddish petticoat, she looked out of place, like a red rose in the desert. Everything else around her so dull and plain.
He coughed into his fist, wiped sweaty palms on his pants, took off his hat, and approached her.
“Cole, there you are!”
He jumped at the touch on his arm. Claire appeared out of nowhere right beside him. He almost forgot he asked her to be their chaperone for the first meeting.
“Oh –Claire!”
She rolled her eyes, then turned to Mercy with a smile. “Looks like your groom’s finally here.”
Mercy blushed and eyed Cole for a second, before throwing her gaze to the floor. Cole gripped his hat and took a few steps towards her. He held out his hand. “Cole Beckett. It’s nice to meet you, Miss.”
Mercy took his hand. “Mercy Elkwood. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“What is this, spring dance?” Claire blurted out. “It’s not like you don’t know each other’s names. Well, c’mon now, let’s get you settled, Mercy. Get the bags, Cole!”
Claire’s order jarred Cole out of his trance. He picked up Mercy’s luggage and out tumbled a tiny rag doll.
Mercy made a small cry. Her face had turned red. Cole took the doll and handed it to her. “Is this yours?”
“No. Yes.” She hid her face behind her hands, then shook her head, and sighed.
“Sorry,” She continued. “It was a parting gift from Amy, one of the kids in the orphanage. She wanted to make sure I wasn’t lonely on the road.” Mercy hid the doll in the small satchel she carried. “It’s a bit childish, I know…”
“No, no,” Cole said, “it’s actually… That was very nice of her.” His heart fluttered in his chest, as if it were an excited butterfly trapped within his rib cage. He felt so giddy, he worried he might burst into song any minute.
“Well, c’mon, now. People are startin’ to gawk. The gossipmongers here are like vultures.” Claire linked her arm with Mercy’s, and the three of them walked to Pastor Shepard’s house.
Chapter 3
Mercy smiled wanly at Claire. The woman had taken a liking to her, apparently, and had decided to accompany her to the town shops. Cole had given Mercy some money for wedding shopping, and now she felt like a road agent carrying three sacks of gold. This was the first time she had such a large amount on her.
“You have such lovely curls, Mercy,” Claire began. “I think I know the perfect pin for you!”
She grabbed Mercy’s hand and they trooped inside a dress shop, whose floorboards creaked with every breath they took. “Helena!” The shop shook.
A withered woman with silver hair pinned tight behind her head in a neat bun appeared before them. “Good day, Claire, what brings you – oh, who’s this?”
“Hello, I’m Mercy Elkwood.”
The woman took Mercy’s hand with a pinched smile.
“Mercy’s looking for some great pins for her hair. She’s getting hitched!”
Helena’s faint eyebrows rose. “Oh. Well, we’ve got a lot of new ones over here.” She led them to the shelves at the back.
“Who’s the lucky groom?” Helena asked, but before either Mercy or Claire could answer, the tiny bell at the door rang followed by footsteps against the creaky old floor. “Oh, I’ll be back with you in a moment.”
And with that, she left them.
“What do you think?” Claire picked up several pins and started trying them on Mercy’s hair.
Mercy stared into the small hand mirror unable to find words to answer.
“It’s true then?” It was a low, but strong whisper somewhere at the front of the shop. “Cole Beckett’s got hisself a mail order bride?”
“Shh! They’re gonna hear ya!”
“Don’t mind them,” Claire told Mercy, and picked up a bracelet with three small blue stones in the center. “These match your eyes.”
“He’s so desperate he had to get someone outside town, huh?”
Mercy’s ears burned.
“Such a handsome man. Too bad he’s one odd fish,” The other woman replied.
Claire cleared her throat and said louder than was necessary, “So, which ones do you like?”
Mercy pointed to the bracelet, some pins, and a set of earrings.
Claire grabbed the items and pulled Mercy back to Helena, who was in the middle of delivering what might have been a juicy tale, by the eager looks on the other women’s faces.
“We’d like to buy these.” Claire smiled at the women. “Mercy, this is Edith Jenkins. Her husband is the town baker.”
Mercy smiled at a woman wearing a light blue bonnet.
“This is her daughter, Maria,” Claire continued and Maria nodded quickly and fanned herself.
“And this is Bridgett Haynes. She’s a very skilled seamstress.” Claire clapped her hands together. “Ladies, this is Mercy Elkwood, she’s new in town.”
A weak round of “Hellos” followed.
Mercy handed Helena the money.
“Thank you,” the shop owner replied.
Claire turned to Mercy. “Would you like to buy a dress?”
“Oh no, it’s all right.” She pocketed the rest of the money. “These are enough.”
“Are you sure? You only get married once!” Claire beamed.
“The Lord did say, ‘There is great gain in godliness with contentment’.” Mercy smiled.
Claire rubbed her arms. “I’m so happy you’ll be part of our town.” She turned to the huddled women. “Aren’t you?”
They smiled weakly.
“Well, we better go.” Claire dragged Mercy out of the shop.
“May the Lord bless you!” Mercy waved goodbye, but the women just shifted uneasily.
* * *
Mercy paced back and forth in the brightly-lit room of Pastor Shepard’s guest bedroom. This was her big day and she barely got any sleep the night before. All this time she had been sure of her decision, but now, so close to the ceremony…
Claire entered the room with a huge bag, ruffles sticking out of it. “Why are you not yet dressed?”
She hurriedly set the enormous bag on the bedside.
“I – uh – I’m not sure I can do this.” Mercy gnawed on her fingernails and twisted her curls. “Maybe this was a wrong decision, Claire.”
Pastor’s sister sighed and placed her hands on Mercy’s shoulders.
“Mercy, I know you’re scared. That’s a normal reaction for any young lady about to be married. And you’re about to marry a man you’ve known only through letters, but Cole is a good man. An honest man. He’ll take care of you.”
Mercy drew a deep breath and smiled at Claire. “You’re right. This is what the Lord has called me to do.”
“Hurry now, you wouldn’t want to be late for your wedding.”
Claire helped Mercy into the new petticoat and tied the ruffles by her waist. She bound her dark curls into a high bun with the new pins and placed a crown of daisies on her head.
“Beautiful,” Claire exclaimed. “Now off to the church!”
A coach waited outside the house ready to take them to the church. Mercy picked up the trails of her gown and boarded it with Claire following behind her.
A thousand butterflies scoured the pits of Mercy’s stomach as they drove to the church. She focused on the pristine white coating of the church that stood o
ut in the open field. This would be her new home now, her new church.
As soon as the coach halted, Mercy expected a few townspeople to greet her. But to her astonishment, not a single soul stood on the steps outside the church.
“Where is everybody?” Mercy asked with eyes wide open.
“It’s just us, Mercy.” Claire replied and handed her a fresh bouquet of lilies. “Your groom awaits on the other side.”
Mercy cleared her throat and positioned herself in between the great doors of the church. She walked in as soon as they flew open. Three men stood by the altar: Pastor Shepard, Cole, and a portly older man who stood behind them.
“That’s the sheriff,” Claire said. “He’s here as witness.”
Mercy sighed and nodded. Her hold on her bouquet tightened.
Mercy’s heart pounded as she walked down the aisle. Cole stared unblinkingly at her. It made Mercy’s knees weak.
She made it to the altar and Cole stretched out his arm. They stood side-by-side before a smiling pastor, a gently sobbing Claire, an impassive sheriff, and a hundred empty pews.
“Today is the day that the Lord has created for the union of Cole Beckett and Mercy Elkwood.” Pastor Shepard’s voice echoed throughout the high ceilings of the church. “If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
“Anyone?”
Cole cleared his throat. “Well, there really isn’t anyone here.”
Pastor Shepard pursed his lips before he continued. “It’s part of the passage. Don’t be so eager.”
He cleared his throat before continuing.
“Do you Cole Beckett take this lovely girl, Mercy Elkwood, to be your lawfully wedded wife for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?”
Cole’s eyes pierced through the veil and spoke softly, “I do.”
“Do you, Mercy Elkwood, take Cole Beckett to be your lawfully wedded husband for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?
Mercy looked at this man she barely knew and thought about the life she would live after this ceremony. She thought about the orphanage and her desire to help them. Would she find love while fulfilling her charitable duty?
A Mail Order Bride for the Undertaker: Mercy & Cole (Love by Mail 1) Page 2