The Easter Mail-Order Bride (Holiday Mail Order Brides, Book 11)

by Kit Morgan

  “How so?”

  “Think about it. If you had gotten angry when I arrived and turned me away, or tried to send me back, that would've hurt me. And I don’t just mean disappointment – I really had nothing to go back to.” She didn’t tell him she’d implied the same thing the night before. He was going to hear about it one way or another.

  He reached up, took her hand and pulled her down to sit on the bed. “You have me now and that's all that matters.” He had more color today and his voice was coming back. Even better, his cough had calmed considerably.

  She smiled at him. “Were you angry when you first found out about me?”

  “No – surprised, sure, but not angry. Now let's not talk about it anymore. Let's talk about when I'm going to come home.”

  “When?”

  “This afternoon.”

  Sarah's smile brightened. “That's wonderful! Do your folks know yet?”

  “They will when they come by later and I tell them – that is, if you don't tell them first. Did my mother … give you a hard time last night?”

  Sarah looked away. She’d walked to town after breakfast, not caring about the cold or the distance. She’d had to get out of that house before the sheriff locked her up – for homicide. “At the meeting … some. But by the time we got back to the farm, I was so tired I went straight up to bed.”

  Jess sighed. “My family has quite a bit of land. It'll take some time, but I’ll build us our own house. You won't have to live with my mother forever.”

  Sarah felt herself blush – partly because he was looking out for her and wanted her to have her own home, and partly out of embarrassment at her anger against his mother. “That would be wonderful.”

  He smiled. “I could build it at the back of the property. If we wanted to go see my folks we’d have to hike across a couple of fields.”

  “That would be nice,” she said. “Close, but not too close.”

  He laughed, which quickly turned into a cough.

  “Oh dear,” she said as she reached for a glass of water on a nearby table. “Here, drink this.”

  He took a few sips, cleared his throat, then took a few more. “I'd best get well soon – I imagine the chores at the farm are piling up.”

  “We've all been busy,” she commented.

  “Busy? You haven’t even been there for two whole days – how busy can you be?”

  “You'd be surprised,” she muttered.

  “I wonder who it is …,” he said after a moment, more to himself than to her.

  He obviously hadn’t heard her remark, and she was glad. She shouldn't have said it, and didn't know how to tell him that his mother was doing everything in her power to make Sarah miserable. “The mad matchmaker, you mean?”

  He laughed again. Sarah liked the sound of it, even if it was raspy from all the coughing. “I think it’d be fun to try and figure out.”

  “If you did, would you tell the mayor and present him with your proof?” she asked with a smile.

  He thought a moment as he gazed at her. “Nah, I’d just do it for the challenge.” He cocked his head and studied her. “You know, I bet if we work together, we could.”

  “You really think so?” she asked with a bemused smile.

  “Sure. Besides, don't you want to thank the person responsible for bringing us together?”

  Now it was her turn to think. Brought together with Jess Templeton, yes. Brought together with his mother, who was making a point of trying to grind her down? Not so much. Did she want to thank the mystery matchmaker, or throttle him? “All right,” she said. “Let's see if we can’t solve the mystery.”

  * * *

  Doc White held true to his word, and let Jess go home that afternoon. Not even Mrs. Templeton could dampen Sarah’s spirits as she sat next to her husband in the back of the wagon. She and his father had bundled him up in several quilts to keep him warm, and Mrs. White had supplied him with a hot cup of tea on his way out the door. He sipped on it and leaned against Sarah, whether to keep warm or because he was dizzy, she wasn’t sure. Regardless, she liked it. “Are you glad to be going back to the farm?” she asked.

  “Yes, not to mention being with my wife.”

  Sarah braced herself for some offhand barb from his mother, but none came. She sighed in relief and smiled at him. “I’ve been looking forward to being with you, too.”

  His tea in one hand, he pulled his other from between the quilts, reached up and cupped her face with it. “You’re beautiful,” he said in a low voice. “Probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  She blushed a deep red. No one had ever given her such a complement. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “Maybe when I get to feeling better we can go for some walks after supper.”

  “I’d like that.” She suddenly noticed she was leaning toward him. Or, had he leaned toward her some more? She wasn’t sure, but warmth pulsed through her at the nearness of him and she didn’t want it to stop.

  The wagon hit a rut in the road and they were thrown apart. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She giggled. “Yes, of course.”

  “Maybe it’s just as well we hit a hole. I might have kissed you just now.”

  Her eyes widened. “If we hadn’t hit it, would you have?”

  “Land sakes, girl!” his mother interjected. “Let the poor boy rest! He’ll have no voice left if you keep gabbing at him!”

  Sarah stiffened, her jaw tight.

  Jess took one look at her and did the same. “I’ll speak to my bride as I please, Ma.”

  “Can I help it if I’m trying to see to your welfare?” she shot back from the front the wagon.

  He rolled his eyes, looked at Sarah and leaned toward her again. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll start on that house of ours just as soon as I’m able.”

  She smiled as she fought against giggles. “I’ll help.” They settled back to enjoy the rest of the ride home.

  Eight

  The wagon ride was over before they knew it (unfortunately), and Jess and Sarah were soon being ushered into the farmhouse by Mrs. Templeton, who was showing all the enthusiasm of a pall bearer. She didn’t even speak to her son when he asked her a question. Instead, she glared at him, glared at Sarah and walked away as soon as they were in the house, leaving them standing near the stairs.

  “Well, Ma certainly isn’t herself,” Jess said, concern in his voice.

  “I’m wondering if she’s been ‘herself’ since I arrived.”

  “Has she not been speaking to you? If that’s the case, I’ll have a talk with her. She’s going to have to get used to the idea that we’re married now.”

  She hesitated in answering. His mother had spoken to her yesterday … but she’d treated her like a new slave fresh off the auction block. It’s not that Sarah wasn’t used to hard work – she’d taken care of her aunt for years, including all the cooking and cleaning. But to be loaded with so much on the very first day was a strain.

  “No, she’s talked to me,” she finally answered. Telling me what to do, bossing me around … but she’d keep that to herself for now. The poor man had enough to worry about. She wanted him to get well, and worrying over how his mother was treating his bride wouldn’t help him …

  Jess coughed, pulling her out of her silent lament. “I think maybe I ought to lie down for a while.” He gave her a weak smile. “Who would have thought a simple trip home from Doc White’s would be so exhausting?”

  “I’ll help you upstairs,” she offered, taking him by the elbow.

  “I’ll manage,” he countered and pulled his arm away, but gently. “Though you could bring me up another cup of tea if you don’t mind.”

  She studied him. He looked paler, and she knew, even aside from his comment about the ride home, that he must be tired. “Right away. Your bed is all ready.”

  She made to turn away, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Our bed,” he corrected, drawing her close.
“Though you might want to sleep in the spare room for a few days. I don’t want to keep you up all night with this cough of mine.”

  She swallowed, not used to being so close to him. At least not while he was standing. “Yes, I understand. Your mother had me clean that room yesterday – maybe she had the same idea.”

  “Maybe,” he said skeptically. He patted her shoulder, then turned to the stairs.

  She knew what he meant. “I’ll be up as soon as I can with your tea.”

  He turned on the first step. “Thank you. Make yourself a cup too – I’m sure you must be chilled after the ride home.”

  Without thinking, she rubbed her arms. “I’ll do that.” She watched him ascend the stairs, then went to the kitchen to make them both a cup.

  Mrs. Templeton stood by the stove, making coffee. “Jess should have something hot to drink,” the woman stated without looking at her.

  “He asked for a cup of tea.”

  “He’ll get coffee.”

  Sarah was normally a gentle soul, but Mrs. Templeton was quickly making her tougher. Her aunt Gertie had become unreasonable at times, so Sarah had some experience dealing with such a thing. But it had been the illness lashing out, and the specter of death – once she’d made her peace with God, she was like an angel preparing for her return to Heaven. Harriet Templeton was a much different case. “He asked for a cup of tea,” she repeated.

  “Coffee will be better for him than tea,” Mrs. Templeton remarked as she turned to face her.

  Sarah bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Giving the woman a piece of her mind had shut her up, but only for a few moments. If she was going to have to deal with the woman every day, they were going to have to learn to get along. “If you think coffee would be better for him, then I’ll take him a cup as soon as it’s ready.”

  Mrs. Templeton opened her mouth to retort, not expecting agreement. She stared at Sarah a moment in confusion, before replying, “well, then … I’ll go fetch a tray.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah said with a smile as Mrs. Templeton left the kitchen for the small dining room. The farmhouse wasn’t too large or too small – Sarah hoped she and Jess would be able to build one just like it on the other side of the property. She stepped to the dry sink and stared out the kitchen window, hoping for a little daydream to carry her through the rest of the day.

  But none was forthcoming. Was she afraid to let her mind wander? Or was she afraid any dreams would soon be shattered by Jess’s mother?

  Sarah stepped away from the window when she realized Mr. Templeton hadn’t come into the house yet. He must still be unhitching the horses.

  “Here’s the tray,” Jess’s mother announced as she re-entered the room. She set it down on the kitchen table, then turned to Sarah. “Mr. Templeton will be in soon. Pour him a cup, then take the rest upstairs to Jess.”

  “Would you like some as well?” Sarah asked.

  Mrs. Templeton, stunned, eyed the coffee pot. “No, I, uh … I didn’t make a full pot. There won’t be enough for the men if I have a cup.”

  Sarah’s eyes flicked to the stove. “I see.” Had she heard Jess’ remark about making two cups of tea and bringing them upstairs? He obviously wanted to enjoy a cup with her. Oh Lord, please tell me she’s not that bad! “Does Jess take anything in his coffee?”

  “A little sugar. Same for his tea … if you ever get around to making him some.”

  Sarah hid a smile. Maybe her mother-in-law was thawing a little after all. She knew it would take time, but life would be easier if it didn’t take too much. “I’ll see to it. After Jess has his coffee, is there anything I can do for you?”

  Mrs. Templeton stared at her a moment. “Nothing … comes to mind.”

  Sarah fought against a frown. Why was she suddenly so… agreeable? The day before, she’d worked her like a dog. “I’ll just see to Jess then.”

  “You do that.” Without another word, Mrs. Templeton left the room.

  * * *

  “So, we’re all agreed?” asked Mercy. “Betsy, Cecil, Maude and I will be one team, while Horace, Garrett, Ammy and Professor Hamilton make up the other. Between all of us, someone should be able to flush out that crazy matchmaker!”

  “Mother, really,” Garrett said with a chuckle. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?”

  “Certainly not. I for one would like to thank the person responsible for bringing you and Ammy together, not to mention helping Cecil come into the family.

  “He’s a butler …”

  “And he’s a very good one too!”

  Garrett sighed and looked at his wife sitting beside him. “What do you think about all this? Don’t you think she’s a little overzealous about this whole thing?”

  “I agree with you both, which means I think we should leave well enough alone. I’m sure that if the person responsible was at the town meeting, they know everyone is trying to discover who they are. What I’d be more worried about are folks accusing their friends or neighbors and causing a ruckus that way.”

  “Oh dear me,” Mercy said with a frown. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Cecil came into the parlor with paper and pencil. “All right, I’m ready to record our list of suspects.”

  “Father!” Ammy said, abashed. “You mean you’re doing this?”

  “Why not? It’ll be an adventure. Besides, I’ve already polished all the silver in the house. What else have I got to do?”

  “Find a respectable uniform?” Garrett chuckled.

  Cecil glanced at his clothes – his regular clothes. He didn’t mind performing the duties of a butler in the Vander household – it gave him something to do – but he drew the line at dressing like one. Mrs. Vander, however, was ever on the lookout for opportunities to get him used to the idea. Last week she’d gifted him with a black swallowtail coat …

  “Enough of that,” Mercy said as she began to pace. “Besides, he can wear his new jacket.”

  Cecil winked at Garrett, who smiled. Garrett knew he’d hid the jacket up in the attic a few days ago. “Let us to work then,” he said. “Now, who has the most to gain by sending away for mail-order brides?”

  “No one, except maybe someone’s parents,” Garrett said. “I can understand Mrs. Tindle sending away for one for Morgan. And when Mother and her friends sent away for one for Pastor …”

  “That hardly counts, dear,” his mother quickly interjected. “We were under great duress and if we hadn’t taken matters into our own hands, who knows what scandal could have befallen our town?”

  “Like Pastor Luke up and sending away for a wife on his own?” asked Betsy as she brought in a tea tray and set it on a small table. “You three are still lucky things worked out so well.”

  “She’s right, Mother. You and your friends were lucky.”

  “Luck had nothing to do with it. We knew what we were doing.”

  “Mm-hmm. You’re lucky Pastor Adams didn’t leave town. You want tea, Mrs. Vander?”

  “Thank you, Betsy. The point is, everything did work out. Things might have continued to work out had Jess’s mother not put up such a fuss about his bride. Now our poor matchmaker may never make another match again.”

  “Then why are you so fired up to hunt this person down?” Garrett asked, perplexed.

  “Curiosity, dear.”

  Garrett sighed again and reached for the teacup Betsy offered him. “I guess that’s something.”

  “I wonder how many other people are only curious, but don’t want to expose the person?” Ammy said as she took her tea.

  “Doesn’t really matter,” Cecil said. “The whole town is going to be looking for this person. It might be easier to pay attention to anyone who suddenly leaves Independence. More than likely, that’s your matchmaker.”

  “So if Morgan’s mother decides to go visit her sister in Portland, that makes her the matchmaker?” Garrett asked.

  “It would make her a suspect, at least,” said Cecil. “For one, who wou
ld want to visit Miss Brubauk on purpose?”

  Ammy pressed her lips together. Eunice Brubauk was a force, that was for sure, and no one in Independence was eager to have her come around again anytime soon. “Mrs. Tindle, as they are sisters,” she pointed out. “But we understand what you’re saying, Father.”

  “So we keep an eye out for folks leaving town,” Mercy said then sipped her tea. “I’ll tell the others as soon as I can.”

  “What others?” Garrett asked. “We’re all here.”

  “Martha and Mahulda, of course. They’ll want in, I’m sure.”

  Betsy shook her head. “Some kind of trouble …”

  “Don’t we know it!” Garrett lamented.

  “I’ll speak with the Professor as well,” added Cecil. “I’m sure he’ll have some interesting things to say on the matter.”

  “I’m sure he will,” Garrett said. “Especially since he’s a prime suspect.”

  “Suspect?!” Cecil said in surprise. “What makes you think Professor Hamilton has anything to do with this?”

  “Because he’s the only one in town I can think of with so much to gain,” Garrett said as he reached for a cookie.

  “Oh for crying out loud, it can’t be the professor!” Cecil protested.

  “He’s single,” Garrett began and held up one finger, “so he’s got the time.” He held up a second finger. “He’s alone a lot, so he has the incentive.”

  “What incentive?” his mother asked.

  Garrett looked at her. “Boredom.”

  “Oh for Heaven’s sake!” Cecil said and shook his head. “Professor Hamilton is no more the mad matchmaker than I am!”

  “Are you?” Garrett asked accusingly.

  “Garrett!” Ammy objected.

  “No!” Cecil replied with some force.

  “Good, then you won’t mind helping my mother find out who is. I’ve had enough mad matchmaker nonsense for one day. C’mon, Ammy. Let’s go pay Morgan and Daisy a visit and see what they’re up to.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mr. Garrett,” Betsy said in warning. “Mrs. Tindle is still down with that nasty cold and you don’t want it. Just look at poor Jess Templeton.”