by Kit Morgan
“Of course,” she said, a hint of anger in her voice. She hoped he didn’t notice.
“I'm curious,” said Garrett. “If my father owned a successful company and merged with an even larger one, then why would I become a mail-order bride and come out west?”
He had her there. But again, she'd best stick as much to the truth as possible. “Some times a person wants a chance at a new opportunity, Mr. Vander.”
“Garrett.”
“Garrett,” she repeated. “There was nothing there for me anymore. And I suppose like Cyrus Van Cleet, I have a sense of adventure and wanted to come west.”
“With your father…”
“My father is a very… protective man, Garrett. He always has been.”
“Be that as it may, Ammy, I don't know how else to ask other than, well, just ask. I'm afraid this doesn't make much sense to me. Why would your father offer a complete stranger, namely my father, the opportunity to take part in his business that's on the other side of the country?”
Ammy blanched. “I… to be honest… I don't know.” And she didn't, really. She was still trying to make sense of it herself, even if her father could start and build a new business in a very short time.
“Doesn't it seem strange to you?”
“Yes, a little. But it's my father's venture, not mine.”
“Either he's incredibly overprotective, not to mention generous, or, and please don't take offense, he's not telling you everything.”
She stared at him, unsure of what say next. So, she stalled. “Maybe you should be a detective, then you could find out.”
“I suppose I am of sorts. Not the kind you're thinking of. I'm certainly no Pinkerton if that's what you mean.”
“What are you then?”
“I hope to be a lawyer.”
“A lawyer? Oh…”
“Yes, I'm to begin a practice with the only other lawyer in town. He's preparing to retire soon and I'll take over his clients.”
“I had no idea. Your application from the mail-order bride service never really specified what you did other than some kind of businessman.”
“Yes, about that… it makes me want to be a detective. I still don't know who sent that letter in. Nobody does.”
She sighed. “I am sorry I came as such a shock.”
He chuckled. “To both of us.” He looked into her eyes and smiled. “But… I'm glad you did.”
“Come as a shock?”
“No, silly. I'm glad you're here. I guess if I had sent away for a mail-order bride, I couldn't ask for a prettier one.”
Ammy blushed and looked away. “Thank you,” she told him softly.
“Ambrosia Winters,” he drawled. “You’re pretty, soft-spoken, and from what I can tell, sweet and kind. What man wouldn't want to marry you?”
She gazed at him for a moment, then said, “what man indeed.”
“We’d best drink our tea before it cools,” he told her, his voice low.
The sound sent a chill up her spine and she shifted in her chair. “You don't have to marry me, you know that don't you?” Perhaps she shouldn't have said it, but it had been on her mind. It was one thing if a man sent away for a mail-order bride. At least he knew what he was getting. It was quite another when a man had no idea one was coming in the first place. Regardless of her situation and that of her fathers, she didn't want Garrett Vander forced or cajoled into marrying her. She wanted it to be his choice and his choice alone. Otherwise, she wasn't sure how she was going to live with herself. She didn't want him marrying her out of obligation or a sense of duty to his father because of what he thought was a great business deal. She wanted Garrett to marry her because, well, he saw something worth marrying.
They drank their tea in silence for a few moments before Betsy came into the room. “Are you two still sipping? Do you want anymore?”
“Not yet, Betsy,” Garrett told her. “Would you like to join us?”
“Don't mind if I do,” she said as she took a chair and pulled it up to the table.
Ammy glanced between the two, eyes wide. Garrett took in her look and laughed. “You might as well get used to it. When we tell people that Betsy’s one of a family, we really do mean it. In fact, I don't know why she bothers to wear that uniform.”
“Because it makes your mother feel important,” Betsy said with a grin. “Of course, if your mother had her way, I'd be wearing this get up one day and a butler's outfit the next.”
Ammy giggled.
“You think I’m kidding?” asked Betsy. “Mrs. Vander would love a whole house full of servants. Doing this and doing that for her, cooking, cleaning and what all. But no, she just has little ol’ me.”
Garrett poured her a cup of tea. He suddenly stopped and stared at the cup, now half full. “You see this, Ammy? Three cups, she brought three cups out on this tray, and neither of us even noticed. She was planning to join us all along!”
Betsy laughed. “One thing you better learn about Mr. Garrett is that he sometimes doesn't pay attention to the things that are right under his nose.”
Ammy laughed. The woman was right, Garrett hadn’t noticed and neither had she. “She really does keep you on your toes doesn't she?” Ammy asked him.
“Oh yes, Betsy does. Mind you keep an eye out the next time you're around her.”
Betsy glanced to Ammy and smiled. “Don't pay me no mind. I just do my job and leave everybody else out of it.”
“Like that has ever happened,” said Garrett with a smirk. “I swear you’re the biggest gossip in town.”
“I ain’t no gossip, Mr. Garrett. I just use both ears to listen.”
“Really? And what have your ears been listening to lately? Do tell us.”
“Well if you must know, Mahulda Brock got a letter from Eva the other day. She and that Mr. Mullaney are doing just fine. Mrs. Campbell has done had another baby, and Mr. Tindle’s sister-in-law, Eunice, has decided to stay through Christmas. Of course, after Mr. Tindle found out, he threatened to march down to the stage office and buy her a ticket for her Christmas present, and give it to her early.
Ammy and Garrett both laughed at that. Garrett, because he knew if he was Mr. Tindle, he'd do the same thing. Ammy, because it was just plain funny.
Ammy relaxed as the three of them enjoyed several cups of tea, lively conversation, and a chance to gaze into Garrett Vander's eyes. Eyes that gave a hint that perhaps he wasn't marrying her because of their fathers’ business deal.
* * *
“The boy’s deceitful, that's what he is!”
“Now Horace, settle down,” Mrs. Vander said. “So what if Garrett sent away for a mail-order bride without telling us? What's the harm? And besides, he is going to marry her isn't he?”
“Only because I had to make it happen!”
“What do you mean, make it happen? You weren't the one to offer up a business partnership.”
“No, but I had to take the offer, otherwise he would have sent her back.”
“You don't know that, dear.
“Well, no sense taking any chances.”
“I'll never understand you, Horace. Why, the very idea of jumping into something you know nothing about simply to catch your son a bride.”
“You're the one who's always harping about him getting married! Who says I wasn't trying to make my wife happy?”
Mercy blushed. “Horace, did you really?”
“I did what I thought was best for everyone in the heat of the moment. But now I'm not so sure I did the right thing. Are you positive our boy wants to marry?”
“How could he not after you twisted his arm? In a matter speaking of course.”
“Yes, I did, didn't I? Feel rather guilty about it too,” said Horace as he leaned against his desk. Mercy had come to see him at the mayor's office. Both were still curious as to how a mail-order bride came for Garrett in the first place. Who sent for her? And more importantly, how did they not know about it? Even if Garrett did send for a bride, one would
think he would've said something. “I'll speak with the boy one more time. I don't want to force him, but if he's ready to marry, then he needs to get to it.”
“But what if he didn't send for her?”
“Then that hair-brained friend of yours, Maude must've done it! You three need to mind your own business! First you order a bride for Pastor Luke without telling him, then Martha gets one for Morgan, and now this!”
“Well, if none of us had taken the initiative, there wouldn't be any weddings in this town!”
“One wasn't. Eva Brock went to Oregon City to get married!”
“Yes, and as a mail-order bride,” Mercy pointed out proudly.
“I suppose you were behind that as well?” Horace asked and eyed her suspiciously.
“I had nothing to do with it. Eva took care of that all on her own. And besides, her mother didn’t know about it either. I just don't see why Garrett is still denying the fact he sent for one.”
“I thought you knew our boy better than that. I think he's telling the truth.”
“A moment ago you didn't.”
“Yes, but the more I think about it, the more I believe him. But it galls me someone did it anonymously, and I can’t figure out who.”
“What about Betsy? Maybe she did.”
“Betsy wouldn't dare, not if she knows what's good for her and wants to keep her job.”
“Like you'd ever fire her?”
“I would if she went behind our backs!”
“Well, I don't think it was Betsy. After all, Garrett's not her son.”
“Exactly. Which brings us right back to square one. Who in heaven's name sent away for a mail-order bride for Garrett?”
Mercy shrugged. “Maybe we'll never know.”
“And maybe you’re satisfied with not knowing, but I'm not. The next time I see that Cecil Winters, I'm going to ask him a few questions. Something fishy is going on and I'm not sure I trust the man.”
“Horace Vander, can't you make up your mind? You are the most indecisive man I have ever met. I'm surprised you didn't have this much trouble asking me to marry you.”
“I made out a list of the pros and cons,” he admitted. “Lucky for you the pros outweighed the cons…”
Mercy narrowed her eyes at him. “Horace!”
He burst into laughter, took his wife in his arms, and kissed her. “I'm still going to ask Mr. Winters a few questions next time I see him.”
* * *
Cecil Winters finished scribbling his message on a piece of paper and handed it to the telegraph operator. He stood and waited as the operator read the missive, and prayed he had enough money to pay to send it.
“This all you have to say?” the operator inquired.
“Yes, how much?” Cecil asked as he set some coins on the counter.
The man looked at them. “That's enough.”
Cecil sighed in relief. It was all he had left. He shoved the coins across the counter. “You'll send it right away?”
“I'll send it now.”
“Good, good. I’ll check back tomorrow to see if I have a reply.”
“I’ll be here,” drawled the operator as he set to work.
Cecil twisted his hat in his hands as he left the telegraph office and crossed the street to the small café. He wanted a cup of coffee, but didn't have the money for it. It was cold and he wasn't quite ready to go back to the boarding house so he ducked into a bookstore a few doors down. At least in there he'd be warm.
“Good morning,” called a man's voice from between the stacks. “May I help you?”
Cecil turned to the sound. “Good Lord! Professor Hamilton, is that you?”
Prof. Hamilton stepped out from behind several stacks of books. “Well, if it isn't Cecil Winters, as I live and breathe!” The two men grasped each other and slapped each other on the back.
They stepped apart and looked the other over. “It's so good to see you Professor! What are you doing in this little speck of a town?”
“Me? I should ask the same of you! I never thought I'd see the day when Cecil Winters left Boston high society.”
“Change is good for a man, haven't you heard?”
“Many times, my friend. I've talked with hundreds of people who've come west, and quite a few of them were from Boston, New York, or Philadelphia, and all seeking adventure.”
“And what about you,” asked Cecil. “What brought you here?”
Prof. Hamilton winked at him. “Who do you think led the charge?”
Cecil laughed. He and Prof. Hamilton had known each other years ago, when they both belong to the same gentleman's club in Boston. “You always were the adventurous sort. Tell me, have you had any?”
“No, not really. I live a quiet life in a quiet town, surrounded by my books.”
Cecil glanced around the shop. “How's business?”
“I only need to make enough to eat. I have a small apartment over the store, and I used what money I had when I came west to purchase the building. I do okay. And you? How long have you been here?”
“Since yesterday.”
Prof. Hamilton stared at him. “Yesterday? You've only just arrived? Where are you staying?”
“At Mrs. Hayes’ boarding house down the street.”
“Oh, but you must stay here! I'll not take no for an answer, my friend. Besides, an old confirmed bachelor like me gets lonely for company, any company at times.”
“I'm not sure I can do that. I've got Ammy with me.”
Prof. Hamilton's brows rose at that. “Ambrosia is here with you? Good grief! She must be all grown-up now.”
“That she is, my friend, very much so. She's come to Independence to get married.”
“Really?” Prof. Hamilton shook his head in confusion. “So, you've come west for a little adventure and so has Ammy? I must say she's out done you, old boy. Marriage is one of the biggest adventures a man or woman can take.”
“I'm not that adventurous,” Cecil told him with a grin. “But Ammy is.”
“Well, you're both welcome to stay here. I've got an extra room Ammy could use and you could bunk with me.”
“Thank you, I might just take you up on that, for myself at any rate. Ammy should be married by the end of the week.”
“A mail-order bride…” the professor mused. “But wait a minute, what about your business? What happened? Did you sell?”
Cecil swallowed hard. “Sit down, my friend. I've got a story to tell you.”
Eight
Prof. Hamilton sat back in his chair and stared at Cecil. “That was quite a tale, my friend,” he said. “For now, the only solution is for Ammy to marry Garrett Vander as soon as possible.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Cecil. “The boy agreed, but I'm not sure he's convinced getting married is the thing to do right now. He, ah … didn't know we were coming.”
“What?!”
Cecil nodded. “Someone answered the advertisement for a mail-order bride in his name. No one knows who did it.”
Prof. Hamilton smiled, and then laughed. “Welcome to Independence, my friend. That sort of thing tends to happen here. Let me see, I think this makes the third time if I'm right. Seems we have pixie matchmakers flittering about.”
“Well, I certainly hope they don't flit this way, I've got enough trouble already without adding romance to it.”
“Except for Ammy.”
“Of course, she deserves to be romanced.”
“But she's a mail-order bride,” the professor pointed out. “Garrett Vander will hardly have time to romance her if there’s to be a wedding in the next day or two.”
“That would depend on the dress, I suppose,” mused Cecil. “He took Ammy to the dressmakers this morning.”
“Did he now?”
“Yes. Come to think of it, I'm not sure where they’ve gone off to.”
“Hopefully they’re tucked away someplace getting to know one another.”
“Tucked away? I should hope not!”
Prof. Hamilton waved a calming hand at him. “Garrett Vander is a gentleman, Cecil. You need not worry about Ammy on that score. He's a fine young man. If I had a daughter, I'd be proud to have him as a son-in-law.”
“Comforting words,” said Cecil. “Thank you for them.”
“But what are you going to do about this Reginald? What if he sends someone after you?”
“If Ammy is married then she's married. What can he do at that point?”
“Ruin you. Take you for everything you've got.”
“He's already done that. What funds I have left to me I plan on giving to the newlyweds as a wedding gift.”
“But what about Mayor Vander? He agreed to this marriage because of the business deal, but you’ve no business to give him.”
“No, not yet. But I can certainly build one.”
“How? You'll be penniless once you give the last of your money to your daughter and her new husband.”
“So you're telling me I should inform Mayer Vander of my position?”
“It's the right thing to do, don't you think?”
“There is the chance Reginald will drop the false charges he has against me.”
“There's also a chance he’ll have you hunted down and arrested,” Prof. Hamilton added dryly.
Cecil ran a hand over his face a few times. “First things first. I must ensure that Ammy is married right away.”
“You said yourself they’d wed in only a few days. At least let her have a proper gown. Women like that sort of thing for a wedding.”
“Of course, of course. You're quite right,” Cecil agreed. “I just don't like going day to day not knowing if I'm going to wake up to one of Reginald's cohorts pointing a gun at me.”
“Have you thought to tell the local sheriff?”
“What good would that do? The sheriff hasn't the time to follow Ammy and me around all day to protect us. No, the best protection I can give her is Garrett Vander's name.”
“Then you'd best be quick about it, my friend,” said Prof. Hamilton.
“I intend to.” He stood, went to where the professor sat, and held out his hand. “Thank you for the coffee. And thanks for listening.”