A Mid-Summer's Mail-Order Bride (2 page)

The driver climbed back up onto the stage, retrieved her satchel and unceremoniously tossed it to the ground. “Hope ya like it here, Miss. Come to get married, have ya?”

Bernice had to blink a few times to tear her gaze away from the staring women. She looked at him, her mouth half-opened in a very unladylike fashion. “Y-yes. As a matter fact, I am.”

“I knew it!” the younger woman cried from the boardwalk. “I knew you were a mail-order bride!”

Bernice studied her as she hurried to a set of stairs that led to the street. She’d spoken with a Southern accent, but not a farmer’s twang – maybe she was plantation-born. Bernice also noticed they were in front of a sheriff’s office. But before she could note anything else, her satchel had been shoved into her hands by the driver, and the woman with the pinched expression now stood in front of her. “H … hello,” she managed.

“Well, Abbey,” the woman said to her young companion, “who do you think she’s here to marry?”

“Why don’t you just ask her, Mother? She is right here, after all.” The younger one turned to Bernice. “Welcome to Nowhere – sorry about the name. I’m Abbey Blake and this is my mother, Mrs. Davis. And you are?”

Bernice stared at them a moment before she remembered her manners. “Bernice Caulder.”

“And who did you come here to marry?” Mrs. Davis asked as she looked her up and down critically.

“Oh, um …,” Bernice said as she looked between the two. “His name is Warren Johnson.”

“Warren Johnson!” Mrs. Davis cried as if he was some disease. “Well well, what do you think of that? Of course, he is just about the only eligible bachelor left in town for anyone
to
marry. Naturally he’d have to send away for a mail-order bride.”

“How wonderful!” Abbey said as she took Bernice by the hand. “Another wedding! Why, there hasn’t been a wedding around here since Arlan and Samijo Weaver – she was a mail-order bride too – and that was over a year ago!”

“I suppose after you marry young Mr. Johnson, there won’t be one for quite some time,” Mrs. Davis added. She didn’t seem displeased by that.

“Well, if he’s the only bachelor in town as you say, then I suppose not,” Bernice said with a smile. The younger woman, Abbey, smiled back.

Mrs. Davis didn’t. “Looks like your husband-to-be forgot you were coming. He doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.” She looked around ostentatiously to underline her point.

“Oh Mother, stop it,” Abbey scolded. She turned to Bernice again. “He’ll be along, don’t worry. I can wait here with you if you like.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Mrs. Davis said as she took Abbey’s arm. “We have errands to run.”

“
You
have errands to run, Mother, I just came along for the ride, remember?”

“Fine, then. But if you don’t meet me in front of the mercantile in an hour, then you can just walk home.”

“I’ll be ready,” Abbey assured her.

Bernice watched as the girl’s mother stomped off down the street and had to wonder – where
was
her betrothed?

Two

“For crying out loud, Warren, get out there!” Spencer chided as he gave him a shove toward the door of the sheriff’s office.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one she came to marry.”

“I’m also not the one leaving her on the street to face the tender mercies of Nellie Davis,” Spencer reminded him.

Warren sighed. “You’re right, I suppose if anything, I need to rescue the poor girl.” He glanced out the window and noticed that Mrs. Davis was no longer there – only Abbey remained.

Spencer noticed it too and slapped him on the back. “It’s now or never – you might as well get this over with. And don’t worry, I’m sure Ma will be happy to have her stay with us for a little while until you get this whole thing figured out.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I can send her to, do you?”

“Oh come on, Warren, just look at her. She’s harmless – just a little slip of a thing.”

Warren studied the petite woman standing next to Abbey. She wore a pink gingham dress and matching bonnet, and looked to be the picture of propriety and innocence. She also looked like she hadn’t done a hard day’s work in her life. What kind of a farmer’s wife would she make? From the looks of her, not a very good one. “I’ll be sure to tell your ma you said this was okay.”

“Of course it is - Ma would love to have her!”

“So long as she doesn’t plan out the entire wedding.”

“Hm, yes,” Spencer said, and cleared his throat. “She does tend to do that. I’ll tell her to hold off until we’re sure who she’s going to marry.”

“Just tell her it’s not going to be me,” Warren said as he walked to the door. He took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

Spencer put a hand on his shoulder. “Just be kind to her. You have to remember, this woman has probably been traveling for weeks, dreaming of marrying one Warren Johnson. When she discovers that you only just found out, she’s going to be disappointed, not to mention scared. I remember what it was like for Clayton and Summer.”

“What about for you?”

“I, at least, had a little lead time – I found out about Elle a week before she arrived. Anyway, don’t keep her waiting,” Spencer said as he opened the door. “And remember, be kind.”

Warren nodded. “I’ll see to it she’s well taken care of.”

“She will be if she’s at our place,” Spencer reminded him.

“Of course she will.” He turned and left the sheriff’s office.

Abbey watched him step onto the boardwalk and smiled. “Ah, now, you see? There’s Mr. Johnson! He must’ve been in the sheriff’s office all this time.” She gave Warren a nervous glance, then gave her attention back to the girl. “Maybe he didn’t hear the stage pull up.”

The girl standing next to her looked up at him, eyes wide, and gasped. He stopped in midstride at the sound, pitched forward and almost stumbled down the staircase to the street. Any idiot would know he’d heard the stage pull up – he wasn’t deaf, after all. But that also meant the girl knew he must’ve been watching her from inside. Did she gasp out of shock, or indignation?

Well, only one way to find out. He went down the stairs to the street and walked right up to them. “Ladies,” he said as he tipped his hat. He turned to his mail-order bride. “I’m Warren Johnson.”

Her eyes were glued to his as her lip twitched a few times. Good grief, couldn’t the woman speak?

“Warren, this is Miss Bernice Caulder, your future bride!” Abbey said happily. “Why, I had no idea you’d sent away for one!”

“Neither had I,” Warren said without thinking. “Oh! Er … I mean, that is …”

To his surprise, the girl laughed! “Oh no! Don’t tell me you have one in this town too?”

“One what?” Warren asked, confused. Mostly he was relieved he hadn’t offended her.

“A mystery matchmaker,” she said, still chuckling under her breath.

“Mystery … what?” he asked and studied her in turn.

“Matchmaker,” she repeated. “Where I come from, we had all sorts of mail-order brides showing up, and no one knows who sent for them!”

“Are you serious?” Abbey asked, wide-eyed. “Around here there’s no mystery about it, except for maybe on the part of the grooms.”

“Yes … and I’m one of them,” Warren stated.

“You are?” Miss Caulder said. “Then you
do
have one! I thought Independence was the only town that did.”

“Independence?” Warren said. “Is that where you’re from?”

“Yes – Independence, Oregon.”

“Oregon?!” He was having a hard time keeping up with all this.

“Warren Johnson!” Abbey said in a scolding tone. “Have you got cotton in your ears?”

He looked away from Miss Caulder to look at Abbey, but it took an effort. He’d been taking in her rich brown hair and amber eyes and creamy pale skin. “I heard her, it’s just that I expected her to come from someplace farther away.”

“Well, isn’t it nice to know she didn’t?” Abbey asked. “At least she’s close enough to visit her family now and then, or vice versa.”

“Family …,” Warren mumbled. He’d heard that most of the brides that came to Nowhere were from back East. This girl had a family – one that might be very upset with him if he sent her back, but at least she had a family to be sent to.

“He normally is more talkative than this,” Abbey told Miss Caulder. “Back in our school days, you could hardly shut him up.”

Warren glared at her, hoping it would shut
her
up.

No such luck. “In fact, I bet the two of you will have all sorts of things to talk about on your way to see the preacher.”

“The preacher?!” Warren croaked.

Miss Caulder’s eyes darted between them. “Oh dear. I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t have time to get a proper wedding dress made. This is all I have with me,” she told him, motioning to the dress she wore.

Warren looked her up and down, and noticed the frock was very well-made. “It’s fine, really. Besides, we’re not going to … well …” He saw the death glare Abbey was giving him. “… well, under the circumstances, maybe we ought to discuss things first.”

Miss Caulder seemed more understanding than disappointed. “That makes sense. This must have come as quite a shock to you.”

“Well, I for one am looking forward to the wedding, whenever it is!” Abbey blurted. “I can’t wait to tell Charlotte!”

“Who’s Charlotte?” Miss Caulder asked.

“My sister – she and her husband Matthew run the mercantile. Well, actually they help his parents run it. He just started practicing his doctoring – it’s what he went to school for. Isn’t that right, Warren?”

“Yes, of course. Now if you’ll excuse us, Abbey …”

“You be sure to tell me when the ceremony is going to be. I’d love to be there!”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Warren said as he took Miss Caulder by the arm and began to draw her away. He took her satchel with his free hand. “Are you hungry?”

She looked at Abbey’s bright smile, then his blank expression, and nodded.

Warren shook himself. For some reason he found her mesmerizing and had to work not to stare at her. It wasn’t that she was some great beauty like one saw in the Eastern newspapers, but she had an odd calming effect on him. Maybe it was her eyes – they held a sort of peace he couldn’t describe. But he felt it. “Hank’s restaurant is right down the street. I could get us both something to eat and we can discuss our business there.”

“Business?” she said. “I thought the only business the two of us would have was getting married. Or at least preparing for it.”

“Yes … well, you see …”

She laughed again and held up a hand to quiet him. “Don’t worry, I know exactly how this is going to go.”

“You … do?”

“Of course. I’ve watched it happen several times back home in Independence. You didn’t know I was coming, and now here I am. You’re going to think about sending me back, or have second thoughts about marrying me, or …”

“Hold on a minute!” He studied her a moment in utter fascination. “You’re taking this rather lightly, aren’t you? I mean, for all you know I could send you back.”

“But you won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“It never happens,” she said confidently.

He gaped at her. “How do you know?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t, and her eyes suddenly went wide. Perhaps she’d just realized that he very well
could
send her packing, that she wasn’t in some sort of fairytale she’d conjured up in her head.

“Miss Caulder, your right in that I had no idea you were coming. But in this case there is no mystery matchmaker involved. My grandfather sent for you without my permission, and frankly I’m a little upset with him about it.”

She snapped her mouth shut and stared at him. “I see,” she finally said as tears formed in her eyes.

Warren felt a lump start in his throat. She wasn’t going to cry, was she? He certainly hoped not. He was worthless around a crying woman.

* * *

Bernice couldn’t help it – she began to wail.

Her hands flew to her mouth in mortified shock. She was supposed to be a mature, refined young lady now – Professor Hamilton and Mr. Winters had worked hard with her to achieve just that. How chagrined would they be to see her standing in the street, bawling like an infant! Quickly she forced herself to calm down as she stared at Warren Johnson.

He stared back, looking to be in the same state of shock as she was. He was handsome in a boyish sort of way that she found very attractive, with blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Yet it was obvious from his physique that he was all man.

Her heart fluttered, not just at his looks, but also because she was embarrassing herself in front of him. “I’m sorry … it’s just … just …”

He shook his head, as if he didn’t want to hear anymore. Was he that disappointed with her? Sure she knew she’d come as a surprise to him at this point, but really, she was the one with a reason to cry and feel bad, not him.

But ladies didn’t show their emotions in public, according to Professor Hamilton. She bit the inside of her cheek, raised her chin in the air and stared the man down.

“Er, shall we head to the café?” he asked.

Bernice sucked in a deep breath. “Yes. That would be fine.”

“Is something … wrong?” he asked tentatively.

She glared at him, then wondered what she looked like and if her glare was sufficient enough. Maybe she should’ve practiced in front of a mirror to make sure it would be something Professor Hamilton would approve of. Ladies
did
glare, didn’t they? Oh dear, her lessons in etiquette hadn’t covered glaring …

“Miss Caulder?”

“Oh,” Bernice said, startled out of her musings. “Ah, yes. You may lead the way, good sir.”

A single eyebrow rose at her remark. Not bothering to offer her his arm again, the man turned and began to walk away!

Bernice made a face at him, then quickly resumed the role of the offended lady – which, after such a snub, wasn’t hard to do. Chin up, she marched alongside him, but soon realized that his longer legs forced her to walk as fast as she could to keep up.

She then noticed it wasn’t just his legs – he wasn’t walking at a normal pace. Was he angry at her now, as well as his grandfather? Probably not – she certainly hadn’t done anything to offend. Weren’t the prospective grooms from her hometown all pushed out of shape when their mail-order brides showed up unexpectedly? It didn’t really matter if their parents sent for one, or the town’s mystery matchmaker, or the man in the moon – the effect was the same when no one bothered to tell the groom. Jess Templeton had been the exception – but as it turned out, Jess had ordered her himself, not the mad matchmaker …

But in the end, all the other matches, no matter how abrupt or star-crossed, had worked out. Could she be so lucky?

They reached the restaurant and he opened the door for her. Bernice forced herself to keep her chin high and not look at him as she glided past and into the building. A middle-aged man came out from the kitchen area. “Howdy, Warren …” His eyes went to Bernice. “… ma’am. What can I get for ya?”

“Two coffees,” Mr. Johnson answered without so much as blinking an eye. Bernice tightened her glare. Maybe she didn’t want coffee. Maybe she wanted tea …

“Ah, is something wrong, ma’am?” the proprietor asked.

So the glare
did
work! Bernice turned to him. “Perhaps the gentleman here didn’t take into consideration what I might wish to order.”

The two men exchanged a quick look. “My apologies, Miss Caulder,” Warren said quickly. “If you’d like something else, then by all means, inform Hank and he’ll get it for you.”

Bernice felt her face relax. “Well … thank you.” She then looked between the two, a smile on her face. At last, she was sounding like a true lady!

“Well?” asked Hank. “Did ya want something other than coffee?”

“Oh no – coffee will be fine.”

The men shared another glance. With a shrug, Hank disappeared into the kitchen.