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

by Kit Morgan

  He was just coming out of the barn with a shovel when they approached. “Are we ready?” he asked.

  “Ready,” Sarah said. She turned to Bernice. “Are you sure you want to go with us? You could always wait here.”

  Bernice nodded. “After everything you told me, I have to know if it's true. Maybe it will help me make some changes.”

  “What sort of changes?” Sarah asked.

  “I'll tell you later. Let's go.”

  Jess led the way to where their land met the Edmonsons’. “If my guess is right, the outlaws would've switched horses out somewhere near the northwest corner of the property.” He stopped and turned to Sarah. “Maybe you should’ve changed your dress …”

  “I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with.”

  “All right, but I hope it doesn't get torn.”

  “I’ll help her mend it if it does,” Bernice offered.

  Sarah smiled, took one of Bernice’s hands in her own and the three set off again.

  Sarah’d had no idea the Templeton farm was as big as it was. Of course, she'd never gone hiking through pastures into a large stand of woods either. After about half an hour they reached the place where Jess thought the outlaws may have buried their stolen money.

  “I imagine it was too dark at the time of your captivity for you to recognize anything now,” Sarah commented to Bernice as she glanced around.

  “I remember we rode at a good gallop down the road before they took off on a trail. There was a bright moon that night – that’s how they were able to go so deep into the trees.”

  “Which would've been enough if they took the trail that runs between Mr. Edmonson's property and ours,” Jess said. “Follow me.”

  The women followed him further into the woods and sure enough, they came upon a wide trail. “This must be it – I remember it was wide like this.” Bernice said.

  “Mr. Edmonson and my father did some logging back here a few years ago,” Jess explained as he looked around and studied the ground for anything that looked out of place, especially an indentation where someone may have dug a hole but didn't fill it in all the way. “I'll go this way and you two go that way,” he instructed. “We’ll cover more ground.”

  Bernice and Sarah nodded, then did as he asked. All three studied the ground intently, looking for any sign of a hole, but saw nothing.

  After half an hour of looking, they regrouped. “Maybe they hid it further down the trail,” Jess suggested.

  “Maybe,” Bernice said as she glanced around. “Maybe not. I’m sorry I'm not much help – I was too scared at the time.”

  “It could take days, possibly even weeks to find it,” said Sarah with a weary sigh.

  “Yes, exactly.” He looked at Bernice. “If they did hide money here, then your mother couldn't exactly come out every day to look for it, could she?”

  Bernice stared at the ground and nodded. “She'd have to have the time to do it so no one would ask questions. Especially my father.”

  “And what better way than if she owned the land it was hidden on?” Jess continued as he spied some blackberry vines. “My mother likes to come out here to pick berries. None of us ever thought anything about it.”

  “And no one would think anything of it if Mrs. Caulder did the same thing,” Sarah said. “Not if she owned the farm.”

  Bernice wiped away a tear. “My own mother.” She looked at the two of them. “She was ready to marry me off to you just so she could …”

  Sarah stepped to her and pulled Bernice into her arms. “Don't think about it now. Besides, we haven't found anything yet. Maybe she had some other motive?”

  “Money is the only motive my mother has. And she gets worse every year.”

  “Maybe we ought to go back to the house,” said Jess. “Bernice, I’ll hitch up the wagon again and take you home.”

  “No, let's keep looking.”

  “You’re sure?” Sarah asked.

  Bernice nodded and began to search the ground again, when she suddenly straightened. “Wait a minute!”

  “What?” Jess and Sarah asked at the same time.

  “Remember when I told you the men carried two sacks into the woods? Well, they didn’t take a shovel with them.” She eyed the one in Jess’s hand. “In fact, I don’t remember them carrying anything else other than the sacks – not even a stick!”

  “Would they have hidden a shovel somewhere?” Sarah asked Jess.

  “Too much trouble, unless they planned in advance to bury it here and hid one earlier …”

  “… which doesn’t seem likely,” Sarah finished for him.

  “From what I know,” Jess continued, “the men who came to town that night came to take Ammy, but grabbed Betsy and Bernice instead. Some of them, though, weren’t working for the man back east behind the whole thing – they were outlaws from the Washington Territory. They may have had the money on them from a previous job and decided to hide it here until they were done delivering Bernice and Betsy.”

  “Thank Heaven for Betsy,” Bernice muttered. Sarah stared at her in confusion.

  “Betsy whacked a few of the men with a frying pan, which is what saved them,” Jess explained.

  “If I didn’t have a shovel, where would I hide money?” Bernice mused as she turned a circle where she stood. She suddenly stopped and pointed. “There!”

  Jess and Sarah looked at a large tree not twenty yards away. It had a hole about eight feet off the ground … one large enough to toss a couple of sacks of money into. “You don’t suppose …,” Sarah said.

  “I do suppose,” he said and started for the tree.

  The three reached it and it was all Jess could do to try to peek inside. “I can’t quite make it. Sarah, come here.”

  “Me?” Her eyes darted between Bernice and her husband. “All right, but try not to toss me in.”

  “You won’t fit, but maybe you could look and see if anything is in there,” Jess told her.

  She went to him as he got down on all fours. “You don’t expect me to stand on you, do you?”

  “Of course, how else are you going to look?”

  “I’ll help,” Bernice said as she stood to one side of him.

  Very carefully, Sarah stepped onto her husband’s back and, with Bernice letting her use her shoulder to balance herself, was able to peek into the tree. “Oh my goodness!” she cried into the hole. “I do see something!”

  “Is it sacks?” Jess grunted.

  “I’m not sure, but it’s some kind of cloth.”

  “Okay, we need to get back to the farm,” he grunted again. “Get … off, please.”

  “Oh, so sorry,” Sarah said and with Bernice’s help, got down.

  Jess stood, brushed some leaves from his pants, let out a breath and smiled. “Bernice, I think you’ve found it. But let’s get back to the house. We’ll need a few things to be sure.”

  She looked at the ground and sighed. “If it does turn out to be stolen money, could you do me a big favor?”

  “Of course,” Jess said and took Sarah by the hand. “What?”

  Bernice looked at them. “Could you turn it over to Sheriff Walker…quietly? I don’t want my mother to know you found it.”

  “But why not?” Sarah asked.

  “Because … because I want to realize for herself that I mean more to her than a couple of sacks of money.”

  Jess chewed on his lip in thought. “What she intended to do is against the law – you know that, right?”

  “I know. I also know that … oh, never mind. Please don’t let anyone know? I’m sure Sheriff Walker won’t mind keeping it to himself for a while at least, will he?”

  “I’ll speak to him,” Jess told her. “Let’s get back to the farm.”

  Epilogue

  Two months later…

  “Stolen money?” Bernice’s mother croaked. “They found stolen money on the Templeton farm?” She fell onto a love seat and started to fan herself.

  Bernice watched her a
moment, then sighed. “Yes, apparently it was quite a sum.”

  Mrs. Caulder groaned as if in great pain. Given the circumstances and what Bernice already knew, she probably was. “Isn’t it amazing? All that money hidden there for who knows how long.”

  “Yes,” her mother agreed, her face pinched. “Who knows …”

  “And not only that, but there was a reward for it.”

  “Ohhhh!” her mother moaned.

  “Jess and Sarah get that, as they’re the ones that found it.”

  “Good Heavens!”

  Bernice watched her mother writhe on the love seat, her face locked in shock, before she bent to get her satchel. “Just think, Mother, if we’d put as much effort into finding that money as we did trying to figure out who the mad matchmaker is, we’d have the reward!”

  Her mother threw her face into her hands and groaned again, louder this time.

  “But alas, it belongs to someone else now.”

  Mrs. Caulder brought her face out of her hands. “This is your fault! You should have thought to look!”

  “Why?”

  “Because you yourself saw it! You saw them take those sacks and hide them!”

  “I didn’t see anything. Nothing of importance, anyway.”

  “Sacks full of money aren’t important?” she snapped.

  “Not when your life is in danger they’re not.” Bernice bit her lip and looked at her mother, a tear in her eye. “But then, that isn’t what matters to you, is it?”

  “Are you saying I care more about money than I do you?”

  “Don’t you? Instead of being happy I was rescued that night and being satisfied with that, all you’ve thought about is that hidden money.”

  “Well I … no … that’s not true, that’s not true at all …”

  “Then why try to marry me off to Jess Templeton after he’s already married?”

  “What? I’ve done no such thing! I…” She suddenly noticed the satchel in her hand. “What’s that? Where are you going?”

  Bernice squared her shoulders and looked her mother right in the eye. “To get married.”

  Mrs. Caulder slowly stood. “You’re … what?”

  “You heard me. I’m leaving Independence. I’m going to be a mail-order bride.”

  Her mother jumped to her feet. “You can’t do this! I’ll tell you whom you can or can’t marry! You’ll never be able to make a better choice for yourself than I can!”

  “Can’t I? Seems to me, Mother, that every choice you make is for you, not me. This time I left it in the hands of professionals.”

  “Professionals?” she squawked. “What professionals?”

  “The only ones there are in this town.” With that, Bernice turned on her heel and left the house. Her mother, she noted, didn’t even bother to follow her. She turned and took one last look at her house before going out the gate, her eyes dry and open.

  Her father, along with Jess and Sarah Templeton, were waiting for her at the mercantile where the stage stopped to pick up passengers. “I’m sure gonna miss you, honey,” Matthias Caulder said as he gave her a fierce hug. “Promise you’ll write us as soon as you get there.”

  “I will, Papa.”

  “Here’s a little spending money for your trip,” Sarah said as she handed her a small sack. “We took it out of the reward money. Technically it’s yours anyway.”

  “No, I told you I didn’t want any of it.”

  “Nonsense, Bernice, take it,” Jess insisted. “After all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

  Mr. Caulder took in his daughter’s sad expression and hugged her again. “Don’t worry, your mother will come around in time. I did.”

  “Yes, but you’re the sensible one.”

  The sudden rumble of the stage caught everyone’s attention, and they turned and watched as it approached. “Well, looks like this is it. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done,” she told Sarah and Jess. “And you, Papa.”

  “I’m sure gonna miss you,” he repeated, a tear in his eye.

  “Wait!” a voice called from down the boardwalk. Professor Hamilton, Cecil and Betsy were hurrying their way. “You can’t leave without this!” he said and handed her a book.

  Bernice took it from him. It was her book of French lessons. “Thank you,” she sniffed.

  “Just look at you!” Betsy cried, out of breath. “All gussied up and off to get yourself a husband!”

  “Does anybody else know?” Cecil asked.

  “No,” Jess told him. “Even the Tindles don’t. They assume she’s going to go visit Miss Brubauk in Portland. Apparently Morgan’s aunt mentioned she’d like Bernice to come visit her, and I didn’t correct him. Yet.”

  The Professor smiled as the stage came to a stop in front of the mercantile. “Well, this is it. You have everything you need?”

  “Yes, it’s all in my satchel,” Bernice said. She took in the small gathering come to see her off and tried not to cry. “Thank you all so much. I … I don’t know what to say.”

  “As long as you say ‘I do’ at the appropriate time, everything will be all right,” the Professor assured.

  The stage driver climbed down and opened the door of the coach. “Ma’am, we’re on a tight schedule.”

  Bernice swallowed hard, said her final goodbyes, then let him help her into the stage. She’d no sooner settled herself than they were off, but not far – the stage had to make a quick stop at the post office to pick up the mail.

  “Why, Bernice Caulder, is that you in there?” a voice called.

  Bernice stuck her head out the stagecoach window. “Hello, Mrs. Brock! Yes, it’s me!”

  “Well, you’re certainly cheery!” she remarked. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  Bernice smiled as fresh tears spilled from her eyes – happy ones. The driver scrambled back up and cracked his whip. “Nowhere!” she shouted as the stage lurched forward. “To get married!”

  Mrs. Brock watched the stage roll away with Bernice inside. “Ah, yes, Nowhere.” She started down the boardwalk, a smile on her face. “I’m sure you’ll make Mr. Warren Johnson a very happy man.” She stopped, turned and took one last look at the stage before it rolled out of sight, then smiled to herself again in satisfaction at another match … well made.

  The End

  I hope you enjoyed reading The Easter Mail-Order Bride, the eleventh book in the Holiday Mail-Order Bride Series. Be sure to check out the rest of the series:

  The Christmas Mail-Order Bride (Book One)

  The New Year’s Bride (Book Two)

  His Forever Valentine (Book Three)

  Her Irish Surrender (Book Four)

  The Springtime Mail-Order Bride (Book Five)

  Love in Independence (Book Six)

  Love at Harvest Moon (Book Seven)

  The Thanksgiving Mail-Order Bride (Book Eight)

  The Holiday Mail-Order Bride (Book Nine)

  His Mail-Order Valentine (Book Ten)

  About the Author

  Kit Morgan, aka Geralyn Beauchamp, loves a good Western. Her father loved them as well, and they watched their fair share together over the years. You can keep up-to-date on future books, fun contests and more by signing up for Kit’s newsletter at Kit Morgan’s website at www.authorkitmorgan.com.