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

by Cheryl Wright

  “I have a small celebration arranged at home,” he said, then headed toward the front door. “Thank you all again. We both appreciate it, don’t we darling?” He almost snickered and it took all her effort not to slap him.

  “Yes, we do,” she said, her throat drier that it had ever been.

  The moment the door closed behind them, Joseph grabbed her by the arm again and headed her toward the livery. “I’ve arranged a buggy to take us home.”

  “To the old Wilson ranch?” she asked, her voice scratchy and barely audible.

  He laughed. “I don’t live there,” he said. “I’d never heard of it until you mentioned it. You dear wife, are more gullible than I ever imagined, but you suit my purpose. We’ll gather your clothing, and we’ll be gone from this dump of a town forever.”

  Pearl fought back tears. What had she gotten herself into? More importantly, what on earth had Joseph Canning, if that was even his real name, gotten her into?

  JOSEPH STOOD OVER HIS new wife as she packed the few meagre possessions she owned. He had grown quite fond of Pearl in a morbid kind of way, but it couldn’t be helped.

  He needed a wife, and that was all there was about it. The moment he’d set eyes on her in the mercantile, he was drawn to her. Her beauty and her fiery red hair set her apart from all others. He might even come to love her one day.

  They had more than an hour’s ride ahead of them. He couldn’t risk staying around this area. “Pull your hair up into your bonnet,” he commanded. The last thing he needed was for people to recognize her and start asking questions. He hadn’t thought that part through, had he? He admonished himself for his poor planning.

  He packed her valise onto the back of the buggy and helped her up. “I have to call at the bank on our way through,” he said as he grinned from ear to ear. “If you try to run away, I’ll go back and kill the preacher and his wife.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Her face had paled, and he knew then she would comply.

  “You want to test out that theory?” She shook her head as he knew she would. He took up the reins and they set out, stopping at the bank. “Do not move an inch. You know I’ll do what I said.”

  She nodded and sat ramrod straight.

  He entered the bank and glanced about. This was going to be easy. Almost too easy. There were only two tellers, and two customers. He pulled the gun from his pocket and waved it about. He didn’t even bother to cover his face.

  “You two, in the corner and sit down.” The customers complied. “You,” he said, waving the gun right under the first teller’s nose, “Fill this sack.” He watched as the teller did as he was told. “Now give it to him.” The second teller didn’t wait to be given instructions.

  Joseph backed out of the bank, a bag of money in one hand, and a gun in the other. He turned to his wife who was beyond pale. He hoped she wouldn’t faint – he didn’t have time for that nonsense.

  “Here, grab this.” He threw the money bag up to her and she caught it. For a God-fearing woman like Pearl, he was certain this would be the last thing she’d want to be doing. But with his murderous threat hanging over her, she wouldn’t dare not obey.

  He was quickly on the buggy and took off. Tears streamed down her face and he watched as she looked back over the town she loved so much.

  “WHY?” IT WAS THE ONLY words she’d uttered since they’d left the bank.

  His response was simple. “Why not?”

  They pulled up outside a tidy-looking ranch some hours later. She was totally exhausted and mentally distraught. Who was this man she adored one day, and despised the next?

  He’d hidden his true identity so well. She’d been such a fool – Pearl now knew who she’d been forced to marry. Joseph Canning was the notorious bank robber and head of the Canning gang. She’d read about him in the newspapers, but had never seen a photograph of him.

  She wished she had. Things would be so different right now. Or would they? If he’d set his sights on her, the outcome would probably be the same, even if she’d known who he was.

  She sighed.

  “Come on, down you come.” He grabbed her by the waist and held her tight, lifting her to the ground. “You really are beautiful, Pearl. I couldn’t have chosen better.”

  She scowled at him. “I hate you,” she snapped, but he ignored her, leaning in and kissing her.

  When he finally pulled back, he was grinning. “Get inside and freshen up while I unpack the buggy.” He unlocked the door and began to unload the buggy, grabbing the proceeds of the robbery first.

  As if he could read her mind, her turned to her. “We’ve got business tonight.” He wiggled his eyebrows then sneered, and she knew what she was in for. “Don’t think about fighting me. I don’t care how I make you my wife in more than name.”

  She gasped. Under duress was not how Pearl pictured her wedding night.

  “JOSEPH, PLEASE,” PEARL begged. “We’ve been married three months now and you still won’t let me go to town alone?”

  He stood towering over her and sneering down at her. He didn’t care about her, not really. He’d made it crystal clear she was only there to cover up his illegal activities. What sort of bank robber marries and settles in one place?

  The worst part was she knew he was right.

  He pulled her close and hugged Pearl tightly, then kissed her passionately. It could only mean one thing – it always did. He was about to claim his husbandly rights, and she had no way of stopping him.

  Pearl shoved the covers back and climbed out of bed. Joseph had finally had his fill of her and left. The door slammed as he went, then she heard the sound of horse’s hooves not long after. It meant only one thing – the gang had been here. He’d probably told them all the things he’d done to her.

  Heat rose in her cheeks at the thought, and tears rolled down her cheeks. How had she let herself be taken in by such a despicable rogue?

  She stared down at her torn gown on the floor. Her so-called husband didn’t care what he did to her, or to her clothes. She despised the man and had done since she was forced to marry him at gunpoint. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind he would have killed Preacher and Mrs Jones, and she couldn’t allow that to happen.

  After cleaning herself up and splashing cold water on her face, Pearl tied her hair back into a braid. She had planned to bake today, and Joseph’s actions had put her behind.

  She pulled on her apron and stoked the wood stove, then pulled all the ingredients out of the cupboard. She’d always loved to bake but having to do it under duress didn’t sit well with her.

  Pearl had added the last of the pies to the oven and was making coffee when someone began pounding the door. It wasn’t Joseph, he never knocked. Her heart thudded – they never had visitors out here. They were too far out of town, besides Joseph didn’t broadcast their whereabouts.

  She gingerly opened the door, allowing only her face to be seen.

  “Mrs Canning? Mrs Joseph Canning?”

  The silver star on her visitor’s chest told her this man was the law. “Yes,” she said quietly.

  “I’m sorry to advise your husband is dead. He was killed during a bank robbery.” The sheriff looked like he was trying to subdue a smile. The law had been after her husband for some time.

  She stumbled backward and her eyes filled with tears. Before she could stop them, hot tears ran down her face.

  The sheriff stepped forward. “Let me get you some water,” he said, pushing his way through the door. “I can see how upset you are.”

  Her head shot up. “Upset?” She began to laugh hysterically. “For that mongrel? He forced me to marry him at gunpoint and has kept me prisoner ever since.”

  The sheriff stared at her momentarily, then smiled. “In that case, Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat back from his head, “I’m very pleased to have been of assistance.”

  Chapter Two

  FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Pearl celebrated in the only way she knew how. She baked her heart
out, then went to town to try and sell her creations to the Mercantile.

  Sunday worship was the one compensation Joseph had allowed her, but she could never go alone. This was her first foray into Whitehead unaccompanied. She’d never driven a wagon before, but was always willing to learn.

  First stop was Hancock’s Mercantile. Pleased at this turn of events, Charlie Hancock promised to buy whatever she could supply. This was going to be her only means of supporting herself.

  Then Pearl headed for the newspaper office. She’d not read a newspaper since Joseph had forced her to marry him. She wanted to know what was going on in the world.

  She tucked the newspaper under her arm and strolled around town, taking in everything. The school, the bakery, the blacksmith’s shop, and every other building she spotted.

  Never before had Pearl been able to wander freely – since the day she’d unwillingly married Joseph Canning. She’d been over their meeting in her mind a million times. She always came to the same conclusion; there was absolutely nothing she could have done to stop his hold over her.

  He was evil through and through, and that was all there was to it. If only things had been different. He’d seemed so loving in the beginning. Pearl shook herself. Her ordeal was now over, and she needed to move forward, get past the atrocities he’d bestowed on her.

  She decided to visit the church before heading back to the only home she knew; Joseph’s ranch with all its bad memories and horrors of the past few months. She wasn’t certain she could cope with remaining there, but what choice did she have?

  At the church she prayed for the soul of her outlaw husband and thanked the Lord for her newfound freedom. She sat with the tattered family bible in her hands for some minutes contemplating her ordeal.

  What if she hadn’t had to close the store that evening?

  That question had gone through her head almost every waking moment since she’d been abducted. She knew deep down he’d been watching her. He had surely chosen her for a reason – most likely because she was living alone and had no one to miss her or look out for her.

  She knew she was right and hugged the bible to her chest, then prayed. Dear Lord, forgive me for hating him, she prayed, then quickly left.

  PEARL WAS LOVING IT out here on the ranch. The Canning gang had made her life hell, demanding food and coffee. They’d demanded her body too, but Joseph had drawn a line with that. She was his woman and had no intentions of sharing her.

  He’d even pulled a gun on a gang member early on, and she’d had no problems with any of them since. With the rest of the Canning gang languishing in jail, due to hang in the next few days, she need not worry about any of them turning up and claiming her as their own.

  She went outside and let the chickens out, then collected up the eggs. She took the eggs inside and then fed the horses.

  With the chores out of the way, Pearl made herself a coffee and sat at the well-worn table and began to read the newspaper. Staring up at her was her dead husband’s face. News of his death was on the front page.

  She quickly turned the page. There wasn’t much she was interested in and she continued to flick through the thin newspaper. When she arrived at the advertisements, she decided to read them just for fun. She had no money to buy anything.

  The words were big and bold, and Pearl couldn’t help but notice them.

  Mail Order Bride Wanted.

  Thirty-something single man looking for bride. Has well-respected job, and needs pretty wife willing to cook and clean house.

  Reply to Alex Farley c/o Grand Falls, Montana

  Pearl continued to read the advertisements. There were three more calls for mail order brides, but for some reason, her eyes kept going back to the first one.

  Perhaps the words well-respected were what drew her in? After what she’d been through, she needed a change of pace, she was certain of that.

  Someone wanted to buy a horse, another wanted some chickens, and someone else was looking for two pigs so they could breed.

  She couldn’t help but snort at the latter, but her eyes were drawn back to the first advertisement she’d seen.

  Could she become a mail order bride? Would she even want to?

  Her head was spinning. Pearl knew she couldn’t stay where she was for long. Even with her sales to the mercantile, money would run out sooner than later. She snatched up some paper and a pencil and began to write.

  Dear Mr Farley, she wrote with a shaky hand. I would be happy to marry you.

  Pearl stared at the hastily written words and knew it was all wrong. She tore up the note and began again.

  Dear Mr Farley, I am a young widow and saw your advertisement for a mail order bride. I can cook and clean, and have been told I’m pretty. I’m not short, but neither am I tall, and my long hair is often called fiery.

  I’ve been left with no money to spare.

  She re-read her words and shook her head. That last line was sure to put him off. She didn’t want to sound like a gold-digger.

  She re-wrote her words on a fresh piece of paper, leaving that last line off and carefully signing her name then added c/o Whitehead Post Office.

  As she stared down at her words, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. What if he guessed she was Joseph Canning’s widow? She snatched up the newspaper again and read the article about her dead husband. She sighed with relief when her name was not mentioned.

  It was then she discovered the newspaper was few weeks old.

  Of course it was – the article was written just after the notorious Joseph Canning was killed. That made her wonder if Mr Farley was even still looking for a wife.

  She would send her letter anyway. If he’d since married, he wouldn’t reply, so no harm done. Pearl found an envelope and addressed it, then carefully folded the letter and popped it inside. She sealed it and decided to go into town tomorrow and post it.

  GRAND FALLS, MONTANA - One month later

  Alex Farley strolled to the post office. “Morning, Cecil,” he said, tipping his hat to the mercantile owner.

  He almost collided with Mrs Baker from the diner. “Morning Mrs Baker,” he said politely. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Good morning, Sheriff,” she said, smiling brightly. “I’ve just made a new batch of muffins if you’d like one.”

  “No time now,” he said, wishing he did have the time. A muffin and coffee would really hit the spot, and Edna Baker made the best muffins in town. Heck, she made the best everything in town. “But thanks all the same.” He tipped his hat and continued on his quest.

  The door to the post office was closed, which meant Abner Ackerman was likely delivering a telegram or a package. He leaned against the locked door and pulled his hat down over his head. Resting his eyes was not something Alex Farley did a lot, but there were no criminals around here, and no illegal activity going on that he could see.

  He should be safe to rest his eyes for just a bit.

  “I hope you haven’t been waiting long, Sheriff,” Abner told him, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

  “Not long,” Alex responded as he followed the postmaster inside. “You wouldn’t happen to have any mail for me, would you?”

  It had been nearly two months since he’d placed the advertisement and he was beginning to worry he’d lucked out. Perhaps he should ask Mrs Baker to help him write the next one, but then again, he didn’t want the whole town knowing his business. If there was a surefire way of getting word around, it was via that lady.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. She was a nice old bird, but she sure did like to gossip.

  Abner went behind the counter. “As a matter of fact, I think I do.”

  The Sheriff’s heartbeat quickened. After all this time, had he finally found a bride? Not that he should even be considering marriage. With a job like his, he could be gone for days or even months at a time.

  But the thought of a warm body in his bed, and hot food on the table every night was a big drawcard. While e
ver he was in town, he ate at the diner. Otherwise he lived on cold beans. Edna Baker was an amazing cook, and he could order something different every night for a week before he had to start over.

  If he could find himself a wife to do the same, he’d be happy. He wouldn’t mind a bunch of little Sheriff’s running around either.

  Widow Baker was a little old for him – by about thirty years – otherwise she’d suit him fine. He chuckled to himself again.

  “I know it’s here somewhere,” Abner said, bringing him out of his foolish ramblings. He reached up on his toes and stared into one of the pigeonholes. “Ah, there it is,” he said. “Somehow got shoved to the back.”

  Alex reached out to take it. “Thank you kindly,” he said as he took the envelope with the decidedly female handwriting. He put it to his nose hoping for perfume, but there was none. “Darn it,” he said as he began to rip the envelope open, then headed back to the Sheriff’s office.

  The aroma of fresh blueberry muffins enticed him inside the diner, and he was soon sipping coffee as he read the short correspondence he’d received. He took another bite of muffin.

  He must have read that letter four times over, trying to decide what to do. Alex wasn’t much interested in marrying a widow – that could lead to all sorts of problems. The least of them being spoiled beyond redemption. If that proved to be the case, she’d get a rude awakening coming to this tiny western town.

  He placed the letter back in the envelope and made the decision to accept. Hers was the first and only response, so there was little choice. She sounded suitable for his purposes anyway.

  Alex swallowed down the last of his coffee and snatched up the muffin. He would finish it on the way back his office.

  “Thank you, Mrs Baker,” he said, and slapped some notes down onto the table. The lady was good to him, and he always left her a generous tip despite her protests.

  “When are you getting yourself a wife?” she asked as he left the diner. She asked the same question every time her went there. Alex grinned at her but didn’t say a word.