by Kit Morgan
“Oh, you’re right,” Garrett agreed. “He must be feeling better though, I heard he went home today.”
“We should go pay him and his new bride a visit,” Ammy suggested.
“We will once he’s feeling better. Let’s give it another day or two.”
“I wonder if he knows anything,” his mother mused. “I bet he could tell us something …”
“Leave the poor man alone!” Betsy scolded. “He ain’t even had the chance to be alone with his bride on account of being sick. And you saw what a fuss that mother of his made last night at the meetin’.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot about that. What a shame – Jess’s bride seems like such a nice girl too.”
“Mother,” Garrett pleaded. “Promise you won’t poke your nose into Jess Templeton’s business. Leave him be.”
“You sound like your father when you talk to me that way,” she told him with a frown.
“Good.”
Cecil and Betsy both hid a smile.
“Mother … promise?”
Mercy looked at each of them in turn. “Oh all right, I promise!”
Garrett sighed in relief. Betsy, on the other hand, folded her arms over her chest and eyed her employer with suspicion. “Mm-hmm …”
Nine
A week and a half later, no one in town was any closer to finding out the identity of the mystery matchmaker. However, there were going to be two more folks in on the hunt: Jess and Sarah. For the first time since Jess went home, they were making a trip to town – specifically, to church.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Templeton and his Easter mail-order bride!” Pastor Adams preened as he greeted them on the church steps. “Welcome! So glad you were feeling up to coming to services today.”
“Thank you,” Jess told him. “It feels good to be out of the house.”
“You been laid up all this time?”
“I’m getting around now, doing a few chores, but I tire easily. At least I’m better than I was when you married us!”
“Thank Heaven for that,” Pastor Luke agreed. He glanced at Sarah. “And how about you? Are you enjoying farm life?”
Sarah almost grimaced. “It has its moments.”
Pastor Luke caught her tired expression. “Are you feeling all right, Mrs. Templeton?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, wrapped her arm through her husband’s and went inside the church. Pastor Luke watched them a moment, then turned to greet his other parishioners.
Once inside Sarah and Jess sat, both tired. His father had come down with the same thing Jess had, and now poor Sarah was doing most of the work. Jess tried a little here and there, but didn’t have his strength back yet. Doc White came to see him a couple of times and told him that Martha Tindle wasn’t much better than he was. Morgan and Daisy were running the mercantile while Mr. Tindle took care of his wife. This was her first Sunday back in church as well.
Everyone sat. Pastor Luke took to the podium and the opening prayer was said. Soon the hymns followed and a message on loving one’s neighbor, then more prayer and then …
“Now, as you’re all aware,” Pastor Luke said as he cringed, “I was put in charge of the, ah … reward … for whoever can bring Mayor Vander proof as to the identity of our mystery matchmaker.” He looked out over the congregation. “Well, have any of you turned anything up?”
The townsfolk all looked at one another, many shaking their heads.
Pastor Luke smiled in relief. “Then might I suggest we go about our lives and forget about it.”
“What?” croaked Mayor Vander. “We can’t drop the whole thing like it’s nothing!”
Pastor Luke smiled. “Mayor Vander, did it ever occur to you that there’s nothing more the mystery matchmaker can do?”
“Whatever do you mean?” the mayor boomed.
“With all due respect, sir, but there are no more young men in town of marriageable age.”
Mayor Vander gaped at his wife, then turned back to Pastor Luke. “What … ah… you mean there’s no one else for the matchmaker to … match?”
Pastor Luke slowly shook his head. “Nope. Not a one. As far as I know, all the men in this town are now married …” He glanced at Bernice Caulder. “… or taken.”
“Well I’ll be hornswoggled,” the mayor muttered to himself. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“How much was in the hat?” someone called from the back of the church.
“I don’t think that matters now, does it?”
“Can we get our money back?” another asked.
“You all threw money in that hat in such a hurry,” Pastor Luke pointed out. “How would you know how much you gave?”
Some of the townsfolk grumbled in response. “I’d still like to know how much was in that hat!” a man in the front demanded. “I ain’t been to town much lately to find out!”
“If you must know, twenty-six dollars and a few cents,” Pastor Luke told him.
“Twenty-six dollars!” Mrs. Edmonson gasped. “Why, that’s a small fortune!”
“I’ll keep looking for twenty-six dollars!” Mr. Rudshaw called from the back of the church.
Pastor Luke sighed heavily. “I think the money could be better used.”
“I think we all need to keep trying to ferret out that matchmaker!” a woman in the front pew huffed.
The congregation broke out in a series of accusations and grumblings. Pastor Luke glanced at his wife, who only shrugged. He finally looked at the mayor. “What do you say, Mayor Vander? I myself see no point in it.”
“Well, we did promise the people …”
“We didn’t promise anything,” Pastor Luke reminded him.
“Oh … well …” Mayor Vander stammered.
“I think this person should be found out and arrested!” one voice screeched above the others..
The sanctuary quieted as everyone turned toward Eunice Caulder, who was marching to the front of the church. Once there, she turned to face the congregation. “They should be arrested for disturbing the peace! They’ve upset poor Mrs. Templeton, and I for one can’t sleep at night! Why, it’s only a matter of time before they send off for a bride for Bernard Rudshaw!”
“But isn’t he courtin’ Bernice?” Julian Smythe asked.
“He isn’t courting anyone!” she snapped. “He’ll be escorting his folks to San Francisco in June.”
A gasp erupted from the middle of the church. “Mother, how can you say such a thing!” Bernice squawked as she stood. She quickly turned to the back of the church to look for the Rudshaws. “It this true?” She spun to face her mother again. “Is it?”
“Of course it’s true! I helped Mr. and Mrs. Rudshaw see to the arrangements myself.”
“I’ll just bet she did,” Julian muttered to his wife Ellie. Jess and Sarah, sitting right behind the other couple, winced.
“Bernard?” Bernice practically wailed. But Bernard was nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t been feeling too good lately either.
“Sit down, Bernice!” her mother ordered.
“But …”
“Do as I say!”
Bernice, her lower lip trembling, did as she was told.
Pastor Luke leaned against the pulpit, rubbing his face with his hand a few times. “Mrs. Caulder, will you also please sit down?”
“I will not!” she declared. “This has to be settled and now is as good a time as any!”
Mayor Vander stood. “All right – it seems some of you are bound and determined to see this through, I’ll give you until next Sunday to uncover the identity of the mystery matchmaker. If the culprit isn’t found out by then, then the money can either go into the church fund, or be set aside for the annual Fourth of July Celebration.”
A few people cheered, a few others grumbled. Sarah glanced around at the ruckus then turned to her husband. “Just a regular Sunday in Independence?” she asked.
Jess sighed and nodded. “Pretty much. Though I hear the Holiday Pageant and Parade were pretty good to
o.”
“This isn’t a holiday.”
He turned in the pew to look at her as Pastor Luke dismissed the congregation. “Maybe it should be …” He wound a loose tendril of her hair around his finger. “… Mrs. Templeton.”
She blushed. Since he’d returned home, he’d slept in the spare room, if only so they both could rest better. But maybe he was implying she finally join him in his bed. “Did you still want to have a hand in looking? You’re feeling better now.”
He smiled. “It will be fun, don’t you think? Besides, it’d give us an excuse to leave the farm and come to town.”
She sighed. “Count me in, then.”
His face sobered. His mother had kept Sarah so busy, she’d hardly had time to blink, let alone spend much of it with him. And when she did, his mother was often in his room too. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was deliberately trying to keep them apart. But why bother – they were married, for Pete’s sake! “All right, when do we start?”
“What about today?”
“Sounds good to me, we could go to the café and …”
“Good morning, Mr. Templeton,” a voice interrupted. “Feeling better, I see?”
Jess and Sarah turned. Mahulda Brock stood in the pew in front of them where Julian and Ellie had been. They’d been so deep in conversation, they hadn’t noticed most of the townsfolk had left already. “Yes, Mrs. Brock, I’m feeling much better now.”
She looked over at Sarah. “And what about you?”
“Me? Oh, I feel fine,” Sarah replied, not sure of what to say.
“Glad to hear it. So, what do you think of this nasty business? You two were the latest victims.”
“The matchmaker?” Jess asked. “I think I’d like to thank him or her, but …”
“But no one can figure out who it is,” Mrs. Brock finished. “I admit, I’d like to get to the truth of the matter myself.”
“We were just going to go to the café to discuss the possibilities,” he told her.
“Really?” she drawled. “Mr. Brock and I were going there for lunch. Perhaps you’d care to join us?”
Jess and Sarah looked at each other. Jess shrugged. “Are you going to discuss the matchmaker?”
“We often do, though Mr. Brock isn’t as intrigued by this nasty business as much as I am. I think it’s appalling!”
Jess smiled at Sarah. He knew well that Mr. Brock probably didn’t care about it at all and that his wife might well be looking to lease a pack of bloodhounds to sniff the culprit out. But it still might be fun to hear what she had to say on the matter …
“Well?” she prompted.
He glanced at Sarah, who seemed agreeable, then turned back to Mahulda and smiled. “We accept.”
* * *
The four of them entered the café, found a table and sat. Within moments Clara the waitress came to take their orders. “Well?” she asked expectantly.
They looked at her. “Er … I haven’t decided what I want yet,” Jess told her.
“No, no – the mad matchmaker! Who do you think it is?”
Mr. Brock groaned. “Let’s have none of that while we eat. If you insist upon talking about it, you can do so after I’ve had my lunch!”
Clara scowled. “You’re the only one who’s come in here who doesn’t want to talk about it.”
“Can I help it if I’m the only sane person in this town?” he shot back. “Now are you going to take our orders or not?”
Clara sighed. “Oh, all right. What’ll ya have?”
Mr. Brock gave his order, followed by the rest of them. Clara stomped off, less than happy with Mr. Brock’s abruptness. Jess and Sarah stared at him as Clara returned with their iced tea. Mrs. Brock, on the other hand … “So who do you think it is, Clara?”
“Oh for the love of Pete, Mahulda!” Mr. Brock groaned. “I forbid you to speak of it!”
Clara’s eyes had lit up at the question, but Mr. Brock’s scowl kept her from saying anything except, “I’ll tell you later.” She quickly turned and skedaddled back to the kitchen.
“Of all the stupid, aggravating, ridiculous …,” he grumbled at her retreat. “I hope someone finds out who it is, if only so we can have some peace around here again!”
“You really mean it?” Mrs. Brock asked, astounded.
“Yes, I do!”
“Well, Mercy, Maude and I have …”
“Mahulda!” he warned, his face reddening.
Jess and Sarah sat and watched, afraid to get between them. Maybe after lunch they’d get to find out what Mrs. Brock knew so far. If she had joined forces with Mercy Vander and Maude Smythe, Jess mused, they might have found out a lot!
The four ate in relative silence out of respect for Mr. Brock, until Mrs. Brock took it upon herself to order up three pieces of pie. “Only three?” Clara asked.
“You heard me right,” Mrs. Brock said pointedly. “Because Mr. Brock will be going home, won’t you dear?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I want my supper on time. Don’t be snooping around town like a madwoman with those friends of yours.”
Mrs. Brock gasped in indignation. “I’ll do nothing of the kind! How could you even think of such a thing? Besides, I’m trying to find out the truth, so you’ll have that peace and quiet you keep saying you want!”
“Fine!” he huffed and got up from the table. He tossed some money down, then turned to Jess and Sarah. “Nice talking with you. Glad you’re feeling better, Jess.”
“Um … thank you,” Jess replied, even though he’d barely said a word. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon,” Mr. Brock said with a tip of his hat, and left.
Mrs. Brock immediately leaned across the table. “What do you know?”
“Know?” asked Jess as he slipped his hand underneath the table and took one of Sarah’s. She blushed in response but said nothing.
Mrs. Brock noticed her red face and narrowed her eyes at them. “You must know something! Come now, you can’t think to withhold valuable information from the sheriff!”
“We don’t have any valuable information,” Jess retorted. “We’ve been stuck at home most of the last two weeks – we haven’t got a clue.”
“Well, it’s not Betsy,” Mrs. Brock stated, a disgruntled look on her face. “I’m certain of that.”
“Why? Sarah asked. “Because you’re friends with Mrs. Vander?”
“No, because the woman doesn’t have the means to pay for train and stage fare. Mercy pays her all right, but she doesn’t pay her that much!”
Jess looked at Sarah. “I never thought of that before. She’s right – this person has to have cash to work with. And seeing as how they’ve sent away for three brides now, they must have a lot!”
Sarah stared at him, then looked at Mrs. Brock. “Who in town has that kind of money?”
“The Vanders, obviously. Perhaps the Tindles. Cecil Winters had money, but he couldn’t have sent away for his own daughter when neither of them were even out here yet.”
“What about you?” Jess asked, one eyebrow raised. “You and Mr. Brock do well enough.”
“Young man, if I was sending away for mail-order brides on the sly, would I be sitting here with you now?”
Jess nodded. “You have a point.”
“Indeed,” she grumbled. “Now who does that leave?”
“What about Professor Hamilton?” Sarah asked. “I haven’t met the man yet, but I heard your parents talking about him in the parlor the other night. He was their guess.”
“Professor Hamilton?” Jess said in shock. “Why would he?”
“Some sort of depraved entertainment, no doubt!” Mrs. Brock huffed.
Jess turned to her, his expression flat. “Must you always look at the dark side of things?”
“I’m a realist.”
“As am I – and I think we can rule out Professor Hamilton. I just don’t see what sort of motive he’d have for doing so.” He gave Sarah’s hand a squeeze and looke
d at her. “Maybe we ought to go pay the Professor a visit. You can meet him and take a look at his bookshop.”
“Won’t your parents wonder where we are?”
“Where are your parents?” Mrs. Brock asked. “Are you up to walking home?”
“They went to the Rudshaws after church just like they usually do. Sarah and I were going to stroll home anyway.”
“Nonsense! You’re in no shape to walk home – it’s at least two miles! Young people, they just think they’re bulletproof, I swear. No, I’ll take you!”
Jess and Sarah exchanged a quick glance. “All right,” Jess finally said. “In the meantime, let’s finish our pie and coffee, then go pay a visit to Professor Hamilton.”
“Won’t his bookshop be closed today? It is Sunday, after all,” Sarah said.
“Yes, but he won’t mind having visitors. He usually does at some point during the day.”
“The man might be pawning a meal from the Vanders as well.”
Jess closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “Mrs. Brock …”
“Well, why else go over there every Sunday after church?”
He opened his eyes and sighed. “Because he and Mr. Winters are good friends?”
She stared at him. “Oh. Well.”
He shook his head, glanced at his wife and smiled. “Did you have any idea what you’d be getting yourself into the day you stepped off that stage?”
“No. But thanks to your town’s mystery matchmaker, things are a lot different than I imagined.”
Jess studied her. She hadn’t smiled when she’d said it, and he wondered if she was also referring to his mother’s less-than-cordial company. “You still have a lot to learn about things here. Good things.”
“I do? Like what?”
He smiled. Now that he was finally feeling better, he needed to see to the task of wooing his new wife. He’d hardly been in shape to before. “You’ll find out.”
Ten
“Well, is it working?” Eunice Caulder asked as she and Harriet Templeton slipped back into the Rudshaws’ dining room.