by Kit Morgan
Three mouths dropped open. “We didn’t do it!” yelped Walton as he held up his empty hands.
“Yeah, we don’t even have our slingshots!” added Nate.
Bart nodded and held up his hands, too. “’Cause they’re not toys – they’re weapons!” he repeated.
Their father stood behind them and shrugged, then peered at something through the moonlight on the other side of the cemetery. “Look!” he said and pointed.
Everyone turned. A very tall man was walking down the street, dragging something behind him. Finn’s father grabbed his arm. “Is that Mr. MacDonald?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Finn said. He gently let Eva go and, nodding at the sheriff to follow, made his way through the pumpkin patch. The sheriff started after him, as did everyone else who wanted to know what was going on.
Finn and the sheriff got through the field, crossed the cemetery and were the first to reach the street, but by the time they got there the Scot was gone. Thaddeus Slade, on the other hand, wasn’t. “Good grief! What happened to him?” the sheriff cried.
Finn bent down to the trussed-up form. He looked as if he’d been chewed up and spit out. Literally. His clothes were in shreds, the fabric wet with something clear and slimy. Yet there wasn’t a scratch on him. Odd. “What happened to you?” Finn inquired.
Thaddeus trembled on the ground in front of them. His body jerked now and then, and he whimpered, but said nothing.
“Who is he?” asked the sheriff.
“This is the man who threatened my family and tried to take Eva,” Finn told him angrily.
“What? This is that Slade fella you told me about yesterday?”
“Yes, and it looks like Mr. MacDonald kept his promise and brought him to you, just like he said he would.”
The sheriff bent to him, grabbed his arms, and just as quickly let them go. “Ick! What is this stuff? He’s covered in it.”
Finn shook his head. “I don’t know, and I’m not sure I want to.”
A crowd had gathered by this time to stare at the shivering form. “The lions done chewed him up!” Nate exclaimed.
“Is that lion spit all over him?” Alton wondered.
“Wow,” Bart whispered.
Eva took one look and gasped. “Finn!”
Finn was immediately at her side, and took her in his arms. “He’ll get what he deserves, don’t worry. He’ll not threaten ye again.”
Eva buried herself in his embrace, wrapping her arms around him as the sheriff motioned for some men to pick up the miscreant, and haul him to jail. They grimaced and made faces as they did, but they complied.
“Eva!” her mother snapped.
Eva froze, then sighed heavily. “What is it, Mother?”
“Do you insist upon living in this town?”
“Yes, Mother, I do.”
Mrs. Brock pressed her lips together. “Then I cannot allow you to …”
“To go without this wedding gift!” Mr. Brock finished as he cut her off.
Eva stared at him. “What gift?”
He pulled a leather pouch out of his coat. “Here’s a little something to help the two of you get started,” he said and handed it to Finn.
“Thank ye, Mr. Brock; that’s mighty kind.”
Mr. Brock stood proudly and rocked toe to heel a few times at the acknowledgement. “You’re welcome – right, Mahulda?” he asked, turning to his wife.
Mrs. Brock gave them a curt nod, but said nothing. She didn’t look very welcoming.
“Mother,” Eva said as she extracted herself from Finn’s arms. “I’ve married a good man. Thank you for not putting up a fuss about it.”
Mrs. Brock stared at her in the moonlight. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy,” she said, her jaw tight.
Eva swallowed. “I understand, but I’m old enough to make my own decisions in the matter.”
Mrs. Brock looked away, but nodded.
“Forgive me?” asked Eva.
Her mother spun on her. “Forgive you? I was going to marry you off to a man older than your father! I should be asking your forgiveness.”
Eva’s lower lip trembled. “Oh, Mother …” she said, then stepped into the woman’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Brock as she hugged her daughter. “I’m sorry I kept you under such a tight lock and key that it made you run away.”
Eva nodded, wiped away her tears, then left her mother’s embrace and returned to Finn’s arms. She smiled at Betsy, who stood nearby. “Thank you for everything.”
“Mm-hmm, you’ll do all right.” Betsy glanced around. “Maybe if I hang out here long enough, I’ll find me a husband.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” Mrs. Brock admonished. “You’re on loan, remember?”
Betsy shrugged. “I suppose I would miss working for the Vanders. I guess I’d better find me a husband, then he can work for them, too. They’ve always wanted a butler.”
Eva laughed, kissed Finn on the nose and hugged him. “Where do we go from here?”
“To the wedding supper,” he told her. “Then I mean to take ye someplace special.”
She held him tighter. “Where?” she whispered in his ear.
Finn smiled. “A little place called Clear Creek.”
The End
I hope you enjoyed Love at Harvest Moon, the seventh book in the Holiday Mail-Order Bride Series. Be sure to check out the rest of the books:
The Christmas Mail-Order Bride (Book One)
The New Year’s Bride (Book Two)
His Forever Valentine (Book Three)
Her Irish Surrender (Book Four)
The Springtime Mail-Order Bride (Book Five)
Love in Independence (Book Six)
The Thanksgiving Mail-Order Bride (Book Eight)
The Holiday Mail-Order Bride (Book Nine)
And if you love Kit Morgan’s books, check out her alter ego Geralyn Beauchamp! You might just find out more about the mysterious Scotsman …
Time Masters Book One: The Call
Time Masters Book Two: The Prophecy
Time Masters Book Three (coming 2015)
About the Author
Kit Morgan, aka Geralyn Beauchamp, loves a good Western. Her father loved them as well, and they watched their fair share together over the years. You can keep up-to-date on future books, fun contests and more at Kit Morgan’s Facebook page – https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kit-Morgan/278159182224204?ref=hl# – or by checking out her blog at www.authorkitmorgan.blogspot.com.