by Kit Morgan
The next morning Beryl found herself staring at the door. She’d washed, dressed, fixed her hair and prepared for the day with Ephraim in mind, but now that she was ready to go, she was nervous. What if he didn’t feel as she did? What if all he’d done was steal a kiss?
The most fantastic kiss she’d ever experienced. The only kiss. Would she ever receive another one like it? Not from anyone else, she imagined. If he kissed her again, would it be better than the last? Would it make her heart sing the way it had last night? Would the world fall away again, leaving just the two of them? “That’s silly. I must have imagined it.”
Rap, rap, rap!
Unfortunately, she hadn’t imagined that. She sighed and opened the door. “Good morning, Mr. Haverdash.”
“Don’t you good morning me, young lady. You know why I’m here.”
She leaned against the door jamb. “No, I don’t.”
“We’re going down to the telegraph office so you and I can send a message to your parents!”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Beryl’s heart leaped in her chest and she smiled as Ephraim came into view. “Good morning.”
“Miss Branson.” Ephraim tipped his hat and turned to Mr. Haverdash. “I’m accompanying the lady myself.”
“You … what?” Mr. Haverdash said in shock.
“I’m taking the dear lady to the telegraph office so she can let her parents know what’s happened.” Ephraim said it slowly, as if talking to a small child.
“They already know! I informed them myself!”
“What exactly did you say?” Ephraim asked.
“That their wayward daughter has run off to be a mail-order bride!”
Ephraim’s eyebrows rose. “Accompanied by you.”
“Well, of course.”
“You made no move to stop her.” It was not a question.
“Er … uh …”
“So they might well regard this as your fault?”
Mr. Haverdash stood to attention. “Now see here, this isn’t my fault!”
“I didn’t say it was. But they might regard it as such. What did you tell them was your reason for accompanying Miss Branson?”
Mr. Haverdash hemmed and hawed, his mouth opening and closing. “I wanted to make sure she got married!”
“Without seeking her parent’s wishes?” Ephraim went on. Beryl was beginning to wonder if he’d been raised by a lawyer. “If your roles were reversed and it was Katie running off to be a mail-order bride in the company of Miss Branson’s parents, how would you react?”
Beryl watched Mr. Haverdash’s jaw drop, his nose wrinkle, his mouth pucker like he’d been sucking on lemons. “She’s not my child!”
“You’re right, she’s not. She’s a lady full grown and legally capable of making her own decisions.” He looked at her and smiled. “And now I’ll escort her to the telegraph office to send her parents a message.”
“What sort of message?” Mr. Haverdash snapped.
“Whatever message she wishes – without outside interference. Now if you’ll excuse us?” Ephraim held out his hand.
Beryl smiled and took it.
Ephraim led her into the hall. “Your reticule?”
“Oh, dear me – it’s in my room.” She’d been so mesmerized she didn’t think to get it.
Ephraim fetched it for her, let her lock her door and offered her his arm.
“Will you tell them when the wedding is?” Mr. Haverdash asked slyly.
Beryl rolled her eyes. Did the man never stop?
Ephraim turned to him. “To do that, there would have to be a wedding. Which, as both Miss Branson and I have stated multiple times, has not been determined. Your continued insistence on forcing Miss Branson to decide is not appreciated, and needs to cease. Now. Keep in mind I am good friends with the local law enforcement – your son-in-law.”
That wiped the smug expression off Mr. Haverdash’s face. For a moment. “It won’t matter,” he finally said. “I’m sure your parents will be quite upset with you, my dear.”
That did it. Beryl let go of Ephraim’s arm, marched over to Mr. Haverdash and got nose-to-nose with him. “You know nothing, sir. Good day!” She turned on her heel, went back to Ephraim, and together they left the hotel.
Chapter Twelve
“Hmm, let’s see … how about I tell them I’m visiting Katie in Oregon and having a great time?” Beryl suggested as they entered the telegraph office.
Ephraim frowned. “Aren’t you leaving something out?”
She half-smiled. “You mean the part about coming here as a mail-order bride?”
He smiled and nodded.
“Well, I suppose I should mention it. How about this? ‘Visiting Katie in Oregon. Having a great time. Not married, not going to be.’ Does that sound good enough?”
He looked at the floor. “I see one problem.”
“Which is?” she asked with raised eyebrows, leaning against the high table set up for people to compose their messages. There was only one other customer.
“Beryl, I know you didn’t come here to get married, not really. But in the short time we’ve spent together, I’ve come to like you very much. Enough that I’d like to court you.”
Her jaw dropped. Not that it hadn’t occurred to her too – the thought kept her up half the night. She just didn’t expect him to come to it so quickly.
“Well?” he said. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
She blinked a few times and tried to get her mouth to work. “I’m … flattered. I really am.”
“But?”
She gazed into his eyes. “No buts, Ephraim. I like you too.” Now she was nodding and smiling.
“Does that mean you’d like to court?” he asked softly, taking her hand.
“Yes, it does.”
He squeezed her hand and smiled. “That’s wonderful! Maybe you ought to put that in the message too.”
“Not this message. This one’s just to let them know I’m okay.” Her heart hammered in her chest as possibilities raced through her mind, such as getting Mr. Haverdash off her back. Once he saw her and Ephraim’s feelings for each other, the man would have nothing left to goad her with. Though with her luck, he’d turn around and try and break them up, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
Beryl scribbled on a piece of paper: VISITING KATIE IN OREGON. SAFE AND HAVING A GREAT TIME. DISREGARD ALL MESSAGES FROM HAVERDASHES. BERYL. She took a deep breath. “That should do it.”
Ephraim squeezed her hand again. “That’s fine, but we must send another message later to let them know we’re courting. You know what that means, don’t you?”
She nodded. “That I’d stay here in Independence.”
“I can put you up at the hotel for as long as you need,” he offered.
“That won’t be necessary – I have … money for a time.” She still didn’t want him to know how much, lest he court her fortune and not her.
“Fine, but don’t be afraid to tell me if you need something, all right?”
She nodded. She couldn’t wait to tell Katie. The last thing she’d expected coming here was to find a man that interested her – snobbish, maybe, but true. She’d never come across a gentleman that made her think of love and marriage. But Ephraim was special. Though she was still trying to figure out what happened between them when they kissed.
They sent off the telegram, then took a stroll through town. “I want to show you everything,” Ephraim said as they walked. “I know Independence is small, but it’s not without its charms. We have a big Fourth of July celebration every year and a Christmas pageant.”
“Really?” She noticed they were holding hands again. When did that happen?
“The Fourth of July celebration is a lot of fun. A big picnic, fireworks, the mayor’s annual speech. This year was Mayor Vander’s last – he’s retiring.”
“I wonder what your new mayor’s speeches will be like.”
Ephraim smiled. “I would im
agine not unlike our current mayor’s. Fletcher Vander isn’t as loud as his grandfather, but he does all right. And he’s running unopposed.”
“Your next mayor is the current mayor’s grandson?”
He grinned. “Yes. Come, I’ll introduce you.” He crossed the little town square to what must be City Hall – it was the largest building around. They went inside, upstairs and straight to an office. Voices could be heard inside.
“Maybe we should come another time?” she suggested.
“Nonsense, it’s just Fletcher and his wife Sophie.” He went to the open door and knocked on the jamb.
“Ephraim!” A young man approached. He had light brown hair and wore a pair of spectacles. “How nice to see you.” He looked at Beryl. “And who do we have here?”
“Fletcher Vander, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Beryl Branson. She’s a friend of Katie’s.”
Mr. Vander grinned. “Yes, Gran Mercy told me all about you. Come in.”
They entered the office. Campaign signs lay here and there, with one being painted by a pretty young woman in a green day dress. “Hello,” she greeted. “You must be Miss Branson.”
“Yes, and you must be Sophie,” Beryl said.
Sophie set her paintbrush aside, wiped her hands on her rag and offered it to her. “That’s me. The future First Lady.”
Ephraim laughed. “I don’t know why you bother with the signs, Fletcher. No one else is running.”
Fletcher stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned. “It makes it more official, don’t you think?”
Beryl looked around. “Why is no one else running?”
He shook his head. “My grandfather’s held the position since the town was founded. I suppose anyone other than a Vander in office is too much for anyone to think about.”
“Besides, Fletcher has a good head on his shoulders and everyone knows it,” Ephraim added. “He’s a lawyer, as is his father.”
“And your parents live here in town, isn’t that right?” Beryl asked.
“Yes, not far from Grandpa’s house.”
“Eventually we’ll move into Fletcher’s parents’ home and they’ll go live in the big house with Gran Mercy and Grandpa,” Sophie explained.
Beryl smiled. She didn’t have a big family except for all her mother’s relatives in Washington state – she was an only child, and her father’s father passed away some time ago. Maybe that was why she’d always wanted a big family – because she didn’t grow up with one, save for the occasional visit to the Weaver farm. Those were grand times.
“Something wrong?” Ephraim asked softly.
“No, just thinking.”
“Anything I can help with?”
She smiled at him. “Not at the moment.”
“So what brings you to my office?” Fletcher asked.
Ephraim smiled and looked at Beryl, asking permission. She knew what he wanted, and nodded. He turned back to Fletcher. “We want you to be the first to know that we’re courting.”
Sophie’s jaw dropped. “What? Why, that’s wonderful!” She gave Beryl a hug, then Ephraim. “It’s about time you joined the rest of us, Doc.” She winked at Beryl. “This calls for a celebration.”
“No need to go to any trouble,” Beryl said. Though what better way to drive it home to the Haverdashes? Speaking of which … “We still need to tell Katie and Jace,” she told Ephraim.
“Of course – we’ll visit them next.”
“Don’t tell her we know already,” Sophie said. “She might feel put out.”
“I doubt that,” Beryl said. “She’ll be too happy to care.”
“Doc, you rascal.” Fletcher hit him in the arm. “Seems the Mad Matchmaker has done it again.”
Ephraim frowned. “I keep forgetting about that. But I’m sure Jace is already checking into it.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t,” Sophie suggested. “Most people in town don’t want to know who the Matchmaker is. It’s more fun to leave it a mystery.”
“Until someone gets hurt,” Fletcher countered.
“By a broken heart?” Beryl said.
“Or worse. What if someone got angry about it and took it out on someone else? Besides, it is technically mail fraud.”
Beryl had to concede that – Fletcher was a lawyer. Courting Ephraim was a stroke of good fortune, but it could have gone wrong. What if Ephraim hadn’t been such a gentleman?
“Why don’t you two have lunch with us?” Sophie asked.
“Yes,” Fletcher said. “I’m sure Betsy won’t mind.”
“What do you think?” Ephraim asked Beryl.
“It’s fine. But I want to see Katie first.”
“Of course.” Ephraim looked at Fletcher. “Be at your house at noon?”
Fletcher nodded, grabbed a stack of papers and leafed through them. “Perfect. I’ll go home a little early and let Betsy know you’re coming. I saw Jace ride out of town on my way here – I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
“As long as we’re able to tell Katie,” Beryl said. “She can tell him later if we don’t get to.”
They spent a few minutes talking about this and that, then left for Katie’s house. When they arrived, they could hear Mr. Haverdash grousing about something through the door.
“Oh dear,” Beryl said. “Maybe this isn’t such a good time to speak with Katie about this.”
“I think it’s the perfect time,” said Ephraim. “That man has been badgering you since you arrived.”
“True,” she sighed. “But I’d prefer some peace and quiet.”
He tucked his finger under her chin and smiled. “Would you like to wait?”
She looked into his eyes, warm and concerned. “No, we can tell her now. Not that she hasn’t heard, but let’s make it official.”
He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, and her entire body warmed. “Good. I think telling her now is best.”
She nodded, then knocked on the door. Petunia answered. “Oh, Beryl, there you are. And Dr. Stone – how nice.”
“May we come in?” Ephraim asked.
“Certainly. We were just discussing our plans with Katie.”
Beryl’s gut tightened. “Plans?”
“Yes, we want Katie to come visit us in Denver.”
“Visit?” she asked, suspicious.
“Of course,” Petunia said.
Beryl glanced at Ephraim and back. He looked as concerned as she felt. “Has this been discussed with Sheriff Diamond yet?”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,” Ephraim said. “I think he’s been to Denver before …”
“Oh, no.” Petunia giggled nervously. “Just Katie will be visiting.”
“Is that so?” Ephraim asked. “And has Katie had a chance to discuss this with her husband?” Before Petunia could answer, he took Beryl’s hand and led her inside.
“Oh, there you are.” Mr. Haverdash was smiling, never a good sign.
Beryl exchanged a quick look with Ephraim. Both knew he was up to something.
“Beryl!” Katie crossed the parlor and gave her a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” Beryl said softly, glancing at Katie’s parents. Katie smiled weakly in return. It was all Beryl needed to see.
“What are you two doing here?” Mr. Haverdash asked.
“We came to tell Katie we’re courting,” Beryl said evenly.
“That’s wonderful!” Katie gushed. She took Beryl’s hands in hers. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you,” Beryl said. “I’m happy too.”
“So does this mean you’ll be paying a visit to the preacher?” Mr. Haverdash asked slyly.
“Possibly, eventually,” Ephraim stated.
Mr. Haverdash eyed him. “But how do you know if you two will suit?”
Ephraim smiled warmly. “That’s what we’re hoping to find out.”
“She’s a mail-order bride,” Mr. Haverdash reminded him. “There’s nothing to discuss.”
Ephraim
faced him. “There’s plenty. And frankly, it’s none of your business what Miss Branson and I do.”
Mr. Haverdash harrumphed and turned to Katie. “How soon can you be packed?”
“But Papa, I haven’t said if I would go with you.”
“Nonsense, of course you are. Where are your bags? Your mother can help.”
“I’d love to!” Petunia said. “I just love preparing for a journey.”
Katie sighed. “I’m not going until I talk with Jace.”
“Him? The man you hardly see?” Her father glanced around the room. “Where is he?”
“At work, Papa – he’s the sheriff,” Katie said. “But I’ll tell him about your offer and he can decide.”
“A trip to Denver might do him good,” Ephraim said, glancing at Beryl.
She knew what he was thinking. They watched Katie trying to hold her own. They’d step in if they needed to, but this was good for her.
“Decide?” Mr. Haverdash huffed. “What’s to decide? You’re either going or not. Though we all know that you’re going. If anything, it’ll let everyone know back home that you’re all right.”
“Your word isn’t good enough?” she countered.
Mr. Haverdash’s eyes flashed. “You know how people are – they’ll want proof.”
“Your telling them will have to suffice,” Katie said.
“But dearest, don’t you want to see your friends?” Petunia asked.
Katie sighed. “Mother, I’ve been here barely a few weeks. I know my disappearing must have caused a stir …”
“A stir?” Mr. Haverdash boomed. “A scandal!”
She sighed again. “Be that as it may, I’m alive and well and doing fine.”
“Fine?” Her father scoffed and waved at their surroundings. “Living in a shack and married to a policeman. You’ll be lucky if you don’t become a widow in the next few months.”
“Independence isn’t that kind of town, Papa,” Katie said.
“Oh no? After you’ve been kidnapped, almost murdered and Lord only knows what else?”