Mail Order Pearl (Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies #12)

by Cheryl Wright

  Mail Order

  Pearl

  Book 12

  Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies

  Cheryl Wright

  MAIL ORDER PEARL

  (Widows, Brides, and Secret Babies – Book Twelve)

  Copyright ©2020 by Cheryl Wright

  Cover Artist: Black Widow Books

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Thanks

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  From the Author

  About the Author

  Thanks

  THANKS TO MY VERY DEAR friends (and authors), Margaret Tanner and Susan Horsnell for their enduring encouragement and friendship.

  THANKS ALSO TO ALAN, my husband of over 45 years, who has been a relentless supporter of my writing for many years.

  AND LAST, BUT BY NO means least, thank you to all my wonderful readers who encourage me to continue writing these stories. It is such a joy to me knowing so many of you enjoy reading my stories. I love writing them as much as you love reading them.

  Chapter One

  LITTLE ROCK, MONTANA - 1880

  Pearl Hopkins stood behind the counter of Hemsley’s Mercantile, waiting for the one remaining customer to choose his items and leave so she could close the store.

  This wasn’t something she normally did, but it had been quiet all afternoon, so Mr Hemsley decided to take his new wife to the local diner for their evening meal.

  Making the best use of her time, she refilled the containers of rice, flour, oats and barley, and felt the customer’s gaze burn a hole in her back. Pearl spun around to find the stranger staring at her.

  “Do you sell flowers,” he asked, glancing about.

  She smiled, relieved. He was waiting for her assistance. “We certainly do. They are in the back corner.” She rarely had to lock up, but it always worried her when she did. Locals she could deal with – she knew them all and trusted each one.

  It was the strangers she worried about, and this one was no different.

  As she pointed him toward the few flowers they had left this late in the day, he grinned. “These will do nicely, thank you,” he said, bringing them to the counter.

  She carefully wrapped the bouquet and handed them over. “That will be twenty-five cents,” she said, holding her hand out.

  He nodded, and shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out a handful of coins. Their hands touched as he handed the money over. His were cold to her warm hands, and she shivered at the contact.

  “Thank you, Sir, and have a good evening,” she said, following him to the front door. The moment he was gone, she locked the door.

  Pearl pottered about the store, tidying up and making sure everything was as it should be. She glanced out the window as she turned the sign to closed and pulled down the blinds.

  He was still out there, that stranger who made her feel wary. A shiver went through her. Would he be gone when she was ready to leave? She sure hoped so.

  At least she didn’t have far to go home. Living on the edge of town had its benefits.

  She snatched up the cash tin and locked it in the safe in the storeroom. At least she knew it would be safe tucked away in there.

  She pulled her coat up around her shoulders and put on her bonnet. It was supper time and she was beginning to feel hungry. There wasn’t much at home to eat, so perhaps she’d just have scrambled eggs and bacon tonight.

  As she locked the back door on her way out, Pearl shivered. It wasn’t cold, but she was suddenly filled with icy dread.

  Was the stranger still outside the Mercantile?

  She rounded the corner, and there he was, standing on the boardwalk, silhouetted by the moonlight, easily recognizable by the flowers still held in his hands.

  “There you are,” he said pleasantly, as though he’d been waiting.

  She glanced around and saw no one. He surely couldn’t be speaking to her. She pointed to her chest in silent question.

  “Yes, I was talking to you Miss Mercantile.” There was a touch of mirth in his voice.

  “Oh!” She was surprised at his words and didn’t know how else to answer. “I’m on my way home.” She bit her lip. That was the worst thing she could have said. She had no idea who this stranger was, and now he might take it upon himself to follow her home.

  This may not turn out well.

  He stepped toward her; his arms outstretched. “These are for you.”

  She stared at him. What was his game? They had never met. She didn’t even know his name. “I can’t take those,” she said, rather taken aback at his words. “I don’t even know you.”

  His expression suddenly changed from joyful to stony-faced. “Of course. I apologize profusely. Allow me to introduce myself – Joseph Canning at your service.” He did a mock bow. “Now it is your turn.”

  She shuddered. Something didn’t sit right, she felt cornered. “Pearl Hopkins,” she said quietly, then began to back off.

  “Please don’t go,” he said gently. “I mean no harm. When I saw you in the Mercantile, I had this feeling.” He handed her the flowers. “I bought these especially for you.”

  “Thank you, but what do you mean you had a feeling?” His words had piqued her curiosity but also had her concerned.

  He grinned. “Your flaming red hair drew me to you at first, your beauty and your gentle voice cinched the deal.” He grinned again.

  She didn’t know what to think.

  “Would you accompany me to supper, Miss Hopkins,” he asked, and Pearl was taken aback once more.

  “Well, I am hungry,” she said. And it might stop him from following her home, so what harm would it do?

  He watched her closely. “So that’s a yes?”

  She nodded and he hooked his arm through hers. That feeling of dread filled her once more, but Pearl felt helpless to stop it.

  WHY SHE EVER DOUBTED Joseph Canning, Pearl would never know. He was a total gentleman throughout supper and the rest of the evening. In fact, he was charming. She’d never met anyone like him before.

  She glanced at him over her mug of coffee. He could do with a shave, and perhaps a haircut, but he was well-dressed and even funny at times.

  “Where did you say you were from, Mr Canning?”

  He stared momentarily. “I didn’t.” For a minute she worried she’s said the wrong thing. “I’m new to these parts,” he finally said. “I bought a ranch about half an hour out of Little Rock.”

  “Oh, the old Wilson ranch! I haven’t been up there for years. It was well before old Mr Wilson died.” She took another gulp of her coffee. “I heard it was a right mess.”

  “I’m still cleaning it up,” he said. “At least the livestock are all in good condition.”

  She delved into the deepest recesses of her mind. Did Mr Wilson have livestock? She couldn’t remember. Even if he did, surely they would have been sold long before this. The old man had died years ago – who has been looking after his herd in the meantime?

  These questions troubled her, and she took another mouthful of coffee then decided it was tim
e to retreat. The most troubling question of all was how she would get home without Mr Canning discovering where she lived?

  She glanced out the window – it was pitch black now, and she would have to get home guided only by the moonlight.

  “Don’t worry,” he said gently, reaching for her hand. “I’ll walk you home. No gentleman would allow a young woman to walk home alone in this darkness.

  She smiled at him feeling far from happy. This was of her own doing, but she’d been pushed into a corner outside the store and couldn’t refuse him.

  If he’d been a stranger drifting through town, she would have felt more comfortable because she’d never see him again. But he wasn’t a drifter, he was staying right where he was.

  The weirdest thing was he’d done nothing to make her feel like this – it was simply a sixth sense. An intuition, if you will.

  They finished their drinks and Mr Canning paid the bill. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Mr Canning,” she said as they left the diner. “I’ll be fine – I’ve walked home in the dark many times before.”

  For a fleeting moment he looked annoyed. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Miss Hopkins? I told you, I’m a gentleman, and would never harm you.” He flashed a smile at her, and she felt far better.

  “Of course you are,” she said, then hooked her arm through his. They were soon on their way.

  THE NEXT WEEKS PASSED in a blur. Pearl found herself being courted by the delightful Mr Canning. Each time he came calling his appearance was immaculate. He not once had even the slightest hint of needing a shave and his hair was cut to perfection.

  Despite being a rancher, he always wore his best suit when he visited her and finished it off with a tie and polished shoes.

  He hired a buggy from the livery one Saturday and they went out into the forest. There he took her for a stroll, and they picnicked on the grass, on a blanket he’d brought along with him.

  Another day they went to the bakery for coffee and cake. They had supper at the only diner in town at least two more times. Miss Nancy flashed her a look that said she liked Pearl’s suitor.

  She had to admit he was growing on her and was a perfect gentleman. He’d not even tried to kiss her once.

  There was a time that every day rolled into the next with the exception of her part-time job at Hemsley’s Mercantile. That was until Joseph Canning came along. Now her life seemed to have more meaning.

  Pearl sat at her dressing table brushing her hair before bed. Fifty strokes every night before retiring. That was what her mother taught her, and that’s what she continued to do well after Mother had died.

  Joseph was picking her up in the morning at ten and told her to wear her best clothes. He had a surprise for her but wouldn’t say more.

  She finished brushing her hair and flicked through her limited wardrobe of clothes. She eyed the pretty pink dress she’d bought a little over a year ago to wear to dances, but Little Rock hadn’t held a dance for a year, so it had been barely worn.

  The thought entered her mind he was taking her dancing, but at ten in the morning? That was highly unlikely.

  Pearl found her white boots to wear with the dress and put them both aside, then lay down on the bed and rested her head on the pillow.

  Pulling the covers up to her chin, she drifted off to sleep with visions of dancing close to Joseph Canning running through her mind.

  Pearl was frightened awake by pounding on the front door. She pulled her robe around her and stumbled to the door in a half awake/half asleep stupor.

  What could be so important?

  She gingerly opened the door, glancing around it. Looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him was Joseph.

  He grinned down at her, then reached out and brushed her disheveled hair out of her face. “Good morning, my darling,” he said in the sweetest voice she’d ever heard. “Did I wake you?”

  She nodded but didn’t get a chance to answer. He pulled her close and kissed her right on the lips!

  “You do look delicious, I must say,” he said, winking at her.

  Pearl took a step back. What had gotten into him? “Did I sleep in? What time is it?” she asked, her voice slightly husky. She needed a drink – her mouth was dry.

  “Half eight,” he said, checking his pocket-watch.

  “Really? You said you’d pick me up at ten.” What was he thinking? “You’ll have to leave so I can get ready,” she said, pushing the door closed, but he shoved his foot there stopping her. She stared at him suspiciously. “You can’t come in,” she said firmly. “That would not be proper.”

  He left his foot where it was. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” he asked in a little boy whiney voice.

  She stared at him. Then he suddenly grinned. “I’m fooling around. I’ll come back in thirty minutes, maybe an hour? I wanted to ensure you’d be ready on time.”

  She had never taken over an hour to get ready and wasn’t about to start now. She suddenly felt annoyed.

  He leaned forward and gently kissed her cheek. “Don’t be late – I have big plans for today,” he said, cupping her cheek in his hand. He turned and walked back toward town.

  Pearl closed and locked the door, then began to get ready for the big surprise. Knowing Joseph, it would be very special. Likely a day to remember.

  PEARL FOUND HERSELF standing outside the preacher’s house.

  She’d grown up with Preacher Jones. He’d married her parents, and just about everyone else in Little Rock. She attended church every Sunday and knew him better than most other people in town.

  She stared up at Joseph. “What’s going on?” She was more than a little confused.

  He grinned. “You haven’t worked it out yet? We’re getting married.”

  She gasped. “What? No!”

  “You don’t love me,” he asked half-joking.

  She wasn’t sure how to answer. They hadn’t known each other that long. “I, uh,”

  Heavy footsteps headed toward the door. He grabbed Pearl by the arm and pulled her close beside him. “Do you feel that?” he asked, guiding her hand to the pocket of his suit. “If you want the preacher to live, you will marry me without protest.”

  Her heart thudded. This wasn’t the Joseph she knew. “I, I don’t understand.” She didn’t recognize her own voice, it trembled so much.

  The door to the manse opened. “Ah Miss Hopkins. Good morning.” He smiled as though he was truly happy to see her. “And who is this young gent?”

  Joseph squeezed her hand tightly. “Good morning, Preacher Jones,” he said pleasantly. “I am Joseph Canning. Pearl and I want to get married.”

  The preacher frowned. “Is that right, Miss Hopkins?”

  Joseph squeezed her hand in warning, and she nodded. She couldn’t bear to see anything happen to this dear man or his lovely wife.

  “Absolutely,” she said, putting on the best smile she could. “The sooner the better.”

  “Well then, come on in. I’ll round up Mrs Jones and get Mrs Grayson too. She’s next door cleaning the church.” He winked at her. “We need our two witnesses to go ahead.”

  “I didn’t give that a thought, Preacher,” Joseph told him, sounding completely innocent.

  He indicated they sit down on the sofa in the sitting room, then left to get their witnesses. The moment he was gone, Pearl rounded on him. “What’s this about, Joseph? Is it another one of your jokes?”

  He reached for her hand and slipped it into his suit pocket. The cold metallic object startled her, and she quickly pulled her hand back. “Is that...?”

  “You know exactly what it is,” he snarled, and she couldn’t believe this was the same man who’d courted her over the past weeks.

  He stood as two women entered the room. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said, behaving as though nothing was amiss.

  For a moment Pearl thought she must have dreamed it all. The moment he pulled her to her feet and pushed her hand against his pocket as reassurance, she knew
it was a living nightmare.

  The next ten minutes passed in a blur. She couldn’t recall a word the preacher had said. “I now pronounce you man and wife,” he said then turned to Joseph. “You may now kiss your bride.”

  She swallowed. Was this really happening? It would be such a blessed day any other time, but this? Her marriage was not meant to happen this way.

  Joseph cupped her cheeks and kissed her on the lips. She was beginning to fall in love with him, and now this. She’d dreamed of this moment since she was a little girl playing dress-ups. Never in her wildest dreams did she believe she’d be forced into marriage.

  The preacher stepped forward as they separated and hugged her. “I am so very happy for you, Miss Hopkins. Oh, Mrs Canning!” he said, winking. “I’m sure you’ll both enjoy a lifetime of love.”

  “Thank you, preacher,” Joseph said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of notes. He handed the preacher one hundred dollars, and the preacher’s eyes opened wide. He looked as shocked as Pearl felt.

  “No, my boy. I couldn’t possibly take that.”

  Joseph leaned in. “Of course you can,” he said quietly. “Take some of it for your time. The rest... I’m sure you can find a worthy cause within the church. Food baskets, clothing for poorer families? Whatever you please.”

  Preacher Jones put his hand to Joseph’s shoulder. “Thank you, my boy. You are a man among men.”

  Pearl did her best not to scoff. If only the preacher knew the truth. She wanted to tell him, but dare not risk his life, or that of their witnesses.

  “Thank you again,” Joseph said. “We have a long ride home, so we must be off now.”

  “You’re not celebrating in town?” Mrs Jones asked.

  Pearl swallowed hard. She watched the tick on Joseph’s forehead and hoped he calmed down. She’d noticed it the moment she’d refused to cooperate with him. Strangely enough, she’d never noticed it before today.