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

by Kit Morgan

  “Come on, then,” Mrs. Brock said as she gave Sarah’s arm a tug. “I'd best take you to my house before everyone gets out of church and sees you. Once they find out what's happened, the whole town will be in an uproar.”

  “But why?” Sarah asked as the woman started to pull her away from her intended.

  “Because everyone is going to be angry this has happened again! I’m going to have to speak with Garrett Vander about you! This can't be legal!”

  “Who is Garrett Vander?” Sarah asked in alarm.

  “The town lawyer.”

  “What?! Are you saying my being here is against the law?”

  The woman turned to her. “If I have my way, it will be! Now come along!”

  Sarah turned and stared helplessly at the man who’d been her future husband. Oh good Lord, she thought, what am I going to do?

  Two

  “What am I going to do?” Jess had made it home in a state of shock and absently put a kettle on the stove. He couldn’t believe his very own mail-order bride had arrived! But what were his parents going to do when they found out? He wasn’t sure what their feelings would be.

  Heck, he still wasn’t sure of his own. The last bride that came to town had married Julian Smythe. Now this girl was here, and he couldn’t help thinking of how things had worked out for Julian and his new wife Ellie. Nor was Julian the only one now happily married – Morgan Tindle and Garrett Vander had also taken mail-order brides as wives. Even the town preacher had gotten one. Could he be so lucky?

  Granted, there was still a mystery unsolved. Garrett’s and Julian’s brides were sent for by … well, no one knew whom except the sender, what Mrs. Brock called “the mad matchmaker.” Still, both men were extremely happy, so all’s well that ends well, he guessed.

  Could Jess be as happy with this girl? He’d been thinking about marriage a lot, especially after seeing how Bernice Caulder had (finally) grown up. Professor Hamilton, who owned the town book shop, and Cecil Winters, now married to the Vanders’ maid Betsy, were determined to make her into some sort of lady. They were doing a good job too. In fact, everyone in town was starting to guess whom Bernice would wind up with: Bernard Rudshaw or him.

  Problem was, Bernice was the only eligible female of marrying age in town. So either he or Bernard was going to end up out of luck, he figured. And this was the West – he’d heard of gun battles starting over less.

  Enough about that – he had to think of something fast before his parents, not to mention the rest of the town, found out about Miss Grace. Mrs. Brock was right; the girl would cause quite a stir. His mother would no doubt be upset – she'd always figured on planning his wedding for him. Not that he would mind, but he was sure his future bride would – after all, didn't women dream of planning their own weddings?

  Because of her notion of working out every detail of his nuptials, his mother hadn't been keen on the idea of him sending away for a mail-order bride. But here was his chance to have a wife without his mother getting in the way. Mail-order brides didn't care so much about planning, or they wouldn’t have become mail-order brides, right?

  He made himself a quick cup of tea, sat and at the table and sipped as he pondered what to do. What if his parents decided it was a good idea – mad matchmaker or no – and wanted him to marry her? It was possible, but not likely – he was sure his mother had her eye on Bernice Caulder for him. Eunice Caulder, Bernice’s mother, had been over a lot of late to visit, and he often wondered what they were whispering about whenever he came into the room.

  Jess had a pretty good idea, actually – he suspected Mrs. Caulder didn't deem Bernard Rudshaw smart enough for her daughter. Bernard wasn't slow in the head, mind, but he wasn't a banker or lawyer either. He was a blacksmith, and a darn good one as far as Jess was concerned. But apparently that wasn't good enough for Eunice Caulder. Still, was a farmer's son any different? That's what Jess was, though his family was better off financially than Bernard’s.

  He shuddered at the thought. Bernice was likable, at least more than she had been when he went off to school. But her mother … he couldn't imagine having to put up with her as a mother-in-law for very long. This mail-order bride option was looking better and better by the second …

  He finished his tea, felt his own flushed face to check if the skin was hot – he was sick, after all – and donned his hat and coat to go take care of business before anyone in Independence had a chance to do it for him. One thing he’d learned from hearing about the other men in town who'd gotten a bride – voluntarily or otherwise – was that he didn't want anyone else trying to take charge of it. He had his own mind and his own heart, and by golly he was going to decide who and when he married. And now he had a chance to do just that!

  Jess adjusted his hat and headed out the door.

  * * *

  Sarah awoke to the sound of a creaking door as Mrs. Brock entered the bedroom. “Sleeping, were you?” she asked. “Can't say that I blame you after a trip like that.”

  Sarah sat up and looked at her, bleary-eyed. She'd eaten a sandwich and meant to lie down for only a moment, but had fallen fast asleep. “Yes, I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

  “Understandable,” Mrs. Brock said as she came to the bed. “I came to tell you that your so-called intended is downstairs and wishes to speak to you. I figured you’d like to have a word with him by now.”

  Sarah's eyes went wide. “Oh! Oh dear, yes, you're right. I’d better get downstairs and see him.”

  “I'll tell him you're on your way,” Mrs. Brock said as she left.

  Sarah got up and paced near the bed. Good heavens! Had the man made arrangements for her return trip so soon? But there was nothing for her back in New Orleans, and she'd spent every penny she had! “I’d like to make a new start here,” she said to herself to see how it sounded. Not too bad. But would he see it that way?

  She shook her head and sighed, then turned to the door, squared her shoulders and headed out into the hall. Regardless, she was going to have to see this through. She didn't have any other choice.

  Downstairs, Jess Templeton stood, his hat in his hands and looked worse than he had earlier. His face was flushed, though that could be from the cold outside, but from the way he was coughing earlier she doubted it. The poor man probably had a fever. Heavens, she hoped he hadn't contracted the influenza!

  She reached the bottom of the stairs and tried not to get any closer to him than she had to, just in case. “Mr. Templeton?”

  “Miss Grace,” he said and once again, looked as if he was trying to stifle a cough. “There's something I'd like to discuss with you.”

  Sarah closed her eyes to brace herself. “I understand.”

  Mrs. Brock stood a few feet away, staring at him. “I'll make some coffee. You look like you need some,” she said pointedly.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Brock, but there's no need,” he said as he stepped to the bottom of the stairs. “Miss Grace and I can discuss our business at the church with Pastor Luke.”

  Mrs. Brock's mouth flopped open. “Wha … what?!”

  “I would appreciate it if you would keep this to yourself for now, Mrs. Brock,” he continued. “I'd like to be the one to tell my folks and friends, if you don't mind.”

  “Tell them what?” Sarah asked, trying to keep from gawking like Mrs. Brock.

  He reached out his hand. “Tell them that we’re married.”

  Mrs. Brock gasped. “You mean you're just going to up and marry the girl when you don't know anything about her?”

  “Why not?” he countered. “Isn't that what most men do when their mail-order bride gets to town?”

  “Well … yes … but you didn't…” Mrs. Brock sputtered.

  “She is a mail-order bride. She was sent to me. Why can't I?”

  “But don't you want to get to know her first?” Mrs. Brock squeaked.

  “There’ll be time after we’re married. It's worked for everybody else.”

  Mrs. Brock opened her
mouth again, closed it, opened it. She couldn't argue the point and found she didn't have one of her own. She shrugged her shoulders and looked at them both. “Congratulations,” she grunted. “You'd best hurry if you're going to go through with it. Pastor Luke is probably getting ready to have Easter supper.”

  “I'm sure it won't take long,” he assured. He looked at Sarah again. “You have the contract with you?”

  She numbly pointed at the stairs. “It's … still in my satchel.”

  “Would you mind getting it?” he asked as he leaned to one side, then quickly straightened himself.

  She shook her head, her eyes still wide with shock. Maybe she was the one who was swaying – she did feel a bit faint. He wanted to marry her after all? But who was she to argue – it was why she was here in the first place …

  She turned and hurried up the stairs to get what they needed. Once in her room, she pulled the paperwork from her satchel, raced back to the top of the stairs, stopped, caught her breath, then descended them as calmly as she could. Her heart leaped with joy at the knowledge she was about to be married!

  Even if she didn't know him well if at all, she was sure that in time, she would. She had received a letter from him, or someone purporting to be him if what Mrs. Brock had told her about the mad matchmaker was so. But said matchmaker had done pretty well so far, and both previous victims were quite satisfied with their wives. Furthermore, her intended was marrying her straightaway and not balking at the idea like she’d been told the others had.

  She reached the bottom of the stairs and let her groom take her hand. “It's cold outside,” he told her. “Do you have a shawl or coat?”

  Mrs. Brock quickly went to a coat rack down the hall, grabbed Sarah's shawl and handed it to her. “Thank you, Mrs. Brock,” Sarah said as she wrapped it around her shoulders. “I'm ready.”

  “So am I,” he said, a determined gleam in his eye. “Let's go.”

  Sarah took one last look at Mrs. Brock, who gave her a weak wave in farewell, then turned as Mr. Templeton opened the door and stepped over the threshold. In just a little while she'd be married – and all because of a crazy matchmaker. Who would have ever thought?

  * * *

  “Jess Templeton,” a pretty woman greeted as she opened the door. She looked at Sarah then back at him. “What brings you here? I heard you went home sick during church.”

  “I did,” he croaked. Sarah glanced up at him. He hadn't spoken more than two words on the walk over. Now she knew why – he was losing his voice. She wondered if he'd be able to get through the vows.

  “You poor thing, you should be home in bed!” the woman said. “What are you doing here?”

  He took Sarah's hand and gave it a squeeze. “I've come to get married.”

  “You've come to … what?”

  “That's right,” he said as he gaze at Sarah. “This is Miss Grace, and she’s my mail-order bride.”

  “You got a mail-order bride?” she asked in shock.

  “Everyone else did,” he said with a shrug. Sarah noted he didn't make any mention of the mad matchmaker, but what did it matter now?

  “Well, this is a surprise!” The woman looked at Sarah. “Congratulations! I'm Winnie Adams, Pastor Adams’s wife. Won't you come in?”

  “Thank you,” Sarah said, hoping to save Jess’s voice the strain.

  The woman led them into the house and had them wait in the parlor while she went to fetch her husband from the church office.

  “Thank you,” Sarah told him quietly as they seated themselves.

  “For what?”

  “For being brave enough to marry me, I guess. Considering you didn't know …”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “Let's not worry about the details of how you got here. Besides, it’s the right thing to do.”

  “But you do have a choice in the matter.”

  “Of course I do. I’m choosing to marry you.”

  She stared at him a moment in disbelief. “Well … thank you.

  He gazed at her a moment. “It's the least I could do.” His voice was soft, and she wondered if he was trying to be romantic or just saving it for the ceremony.

  “I don't know what to say,” she answered. “I don't mind telling you, if you weren't going to marry me, I’m not sure what I would do.”

  “You don’t have to worry about it now,” he said as he reached over and patted her hand.

  “Why, Mr. Templeton!” A man walked into the parlor – the pastor, if his collar was any indication. “I hear you're getting married.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jess said as he stood. “I hope it's not an inconvenience, but I'd like to take care of it right away.”

  The clergyman glanced between the two. “I had no idea you’d sent away for a mail-order bride. This is quite a surprise.” He held out his hand toward Sarah.

  Sarah took it and gave it a healthy shake. She glanced at the man beside her and wondered if she should say anything about the mad matchmaker, but held her tongue. Bringing it up might cause Mr. Templeton to change his mind.

  “Well now, let's go to the church office and have ourselves a ceremony, shall we? Winnie!” He turned to Sarah. “My wife will act as witness. “Er, Jess … didn't your parents go to the Rudshaws for Easter supper?”

  “Yes, they did. I left church because of my cough and …” He quickly looked at Sarah. “… and that was right when Miss Grace’s stage arrived.”

  Pastor Adams looked between the two. “I see. But no matter – she's here and you're ready to get married! Shall we?” he said as he motioned toward the hall.

  They followed him out of the house, down a small path that ran alongside the church, and entered an office through a side door in the building. “Everything is in order, I trust?” Pastor Adams asked as Mr. Templeton handed him the marriage contract.

  “Yes,” she said, not waiting for her groom to answer. “Everything is in order.”

  “Very well, then – let us proceed.”

  No sooner had he said it than his wife came into the office. “I'm ready!” She held something behind her back and smiled.

  “What have you got there, my dear?” her husband asked.

  She turned to Sarah and presented her with a beautiful bouquet of flowers made from ribbons. Sarah's mouth formed a perfect O as she took in the sight. “They're beautiful!”

  “I made them myself. With all the weddings we've had around here of late, I figured a bouquet would come in handy. Besides, there aren't many flowers to pick at this time of year.”

  Unable to help herself, Sarah let a few tears fall. She didn't know why such an act of kindness would affect her so, but it did. She hoped her groom didn't think her silly. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  Mr. Templeton took her hand again. “They're lovely.” He cleared his throat, looked at Pastor Adams and swallowed hard. “Can we get on with it?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Let's have the two of you stand right here,” he directed, “and Winnie you stand over there, and … oh, now where's my Bible?”

  “In your top drawer, dear,” his wife remarked.

  “Ah, yes.” He retrieved it, then came to stand before them. “Ready?”

  Sarah flinched at the word. In a few moments she would be Mrs. Jess Templeton. She glanced at him and noted his forehead was beaded with sweat. Nervous, or just feverish?

  “Dearly beloved … er, that would be the two of you as there's no one else here,” Pastor Adams pointed out with a smile. “We are gathered here …”

  “Pastor Luke?” Mr. Templeton interrupted, his voice shaky. “My apologies, but could you hurry it along, please? I'm not feeling too well …”

  “Are you sure you should be here?” Winnie said. She looked at her husband. “Maybe we should wait on this – Jess should be home in bed. And this poor girl is going to catch his cold if they aren’t careful …”

  “I’ll do the short version,” Pastor Luke said, giving Jess a worried glance.

  The pastor r
ushed through the liturgy, and Sarah wasn't sure if her intended would be able to recite his vows before he passed out. Thankfully, he was able, including the all-important “I do.” The pastor continued with her portion at the same speed, his eyes flicking to the groom every few sentences, but her new husband endured and stayed standing. “I do,” she said firmly when her time came.

  “By the power invested in me by Almighty God and the state of Oregon, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” Pastor Luke concluded with a sigh of relief.

  Sarah’s new husband looked at her. “I think it’d be best if we forgo the kiss for now. I don't want … you to get …” Before he could finish, down he went.

  Pastor Adams grabbed Jess to keep him from hitting his head on the floor and laid him down as gently as he could. “Winnie, get some water!”

  “Is he going to be all right?” Sarah asked.

  The pastor poked and prodded at him a little, then put the back of his hand to Jess’s forehead. “He should be, but let’s have the doctor take a look at him. I'll get him settled, then go fetch Doc. Has he been like this since you arrived?”

  She nodded. “He was coughing pretty badly earlier.”

  “I think he has more than a cold. Best you keep away from him so you don't catch it.”

  Sarah took a step back. “Is he going to be all right?” she asked again, her voice shaking.

  “Don't fret, Mrs. Templeton,” Pastor Luke consoled. “A few folks in town have come down with this, and they've pulled through just fine.”

  “Oh, I do hope so.”

  He looked at her. “Don't worry, I'm sure he won't make you a widow. He'll be fine.”

  She nodded as her tears started again. It would be her luck to finally have something good in her life and then watch it be taken away. Just like everything else.

  Three

  Jess opened his eyes slowly. “What happened?” he rasped.

  “There now, Jess. You’ll be all right,” a woman said. “Here, drink this.”