The Mistaken Mail Order Bride (18 page)

“Are you ready to eat?” Caroline called out
to them.

Without a word, Caleb put the chalk down and
went to the table. Eric thought back to what Caroline had said
about Caleb not wanting the cookies Ida brought over. Caleb,
however, had no problem accepting the food Lois provided. There had
to be something different between Ida and Lois, and Caleb was
sensitive to that difference.

“Eric?” Caroline asked.

He glanced over at his wife and saw she was
giving him a hopeful smile that he’d try the meal Lois had helped
her make.

“Come on, Sheriff.” Lois waved him over.
“The food won’t stay hot forever.”

“I’m coming.” He stood up and went over to
join them.

***

“Did you really like dinner?” Caroline asked
later that evening as they got ready for bed.

Eric glanced up from the cider he was making
in the pot and smiled at her. “Yes, I did. Just as I liked the
pancakes. You did a lot of work today, and your efforts paid
off.”

She bit her lower lip. “Caleb ate it,
too.”

“Yes, he did.” Sensing she needed more
reassurance, he turned to her and put his hands on her arms, giving
them a gentle squeeze. “If Caleb ate it, then you know it’s good.
Caleb doesn’t do anything unless he wants to. It wasn’t anything
like the soup you tried to make.”

She laughed, and he felt the tension leave
her body. “That’s true. I still feel bad for burning the food to
the bottom of the pot.”

“It was old. I was ready to get rid of it
anyway.”

“No, you weren’t. It might have been old,
but it was in good condition. You’re only saying that to make me
feel better.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but then he
realized he should tell her the truth. It was only fair. “Alright,”
he relented. “I wasn’t going to throw it out, but it was old.
Caroline, you’re more important than a pot. Pots can be replaced.
You can’t.” He kissed her. “I am telling you the truth about your
pancakes and the dinner you made tonight. Those were good.”

Noting the cider was boiling, he took it off
the cookstove and stirred it.

“I want to be a good wife,” she said.

“You are. There’s more to being a good wife
than knowing how to cook and clean and sew. The most important
quality is your heart. And you have a good one. I know it’s hard
not to let people like Ida bother you, but her opinion is just her
opinion. It doesn’t change who you are. The people who matter
understand that.”

“I’m only concerned about what you
think.”

“Well, now that you know what I think, you
can relax.” He poured the cider into two cups and handed one to
her. “Plus, a little cider will help. You did a lot of work today.
Sit on the couch and rest.”

Her lips curling up into a smile, she did as
he said. He cleaned the pot and put it on the hook to dry. Then he
picked up the cup and went to sit beside her. In the soft glow of
the kerosene lamp, he couldn’t help but think that when she smiled,
the rest of the world faded away. She really wasn’t so plain when
he took the time to study her face. In fact, she was quite
pretty.

He set the cup on the table in front of them
and then took hers so he could do the same with it.

She chuckled. “I thought you wanted me to
drink some cider.”

“I do, but it’s hot. We need to let it cool
off.”

He closed the distance between them so he
could wrap her in his arms. Lowering his head to hers, he kissed
her. She seemed to melt against him, an indication that she enjoyed
being with him this way.

As much as he didn’t want to give credence
to anything Lydia said, it did bother him to know some women out
there would go out and tell someone how lousy their husbands were
in bed. Even Ida, for all her faults, hadn’t ever voiced a
complaint about Mike in that regard.

Caroline ended their kiss and looked at him,
her eyebrows furrowed. “Is something on your mind?”

He almost said no, but then he figured it
would be easier if he addressed this issue early in their marriage.
That way, if he was doing something wrong, he could change it now
while he was still learning what she liked and what she didn’t
like.

“Alright, I’ll ask you, but promise you
won’t laugh,” he said.

“I wouldn’t laugh at anything you ask me.
What is it?”

“When we’re in there,” he motioned to their
bedroom, “are you satisfied with the way I do things?”

“Yes. Are you satisfied with the way I do
things?”

“Sure, but it doesn’t take much to please a
man. The main things are showing up and being happy to be
there.”

At that, she grinned. “That’s easy to
do.”

For some, perhaps, but according to Lydia,
it wasn’t for other women.

“What brought this up? Have I done or said
something to make you think I’m not happy in the bedroom?”

“No. You haven’t voiced a complaint about
anything since you got here. It was something someone said. I don’t
want to be like Ida and give the details, but suffice it to say I
discovered some women aren’t happy with their husbands, and I want
to make sure you aren’t one of them.”

“I’m very happy with you.” Lowering her
voice, she added, “I even look forward to it.”

“That’s good. And just so you know, if
you’re ever not happy with anything I’m doing, let me know so I can
do things better.”

“I’ll do that if you promise to let me know
when something I cook isn’t good. That way I’ll know not to make it
again, or I can try making it better.”

“It’s a deal.”

She smiled. “Good. Now, let’s drink that
cider so we can go to bed.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. He gave
her the cup, took his, put his arm around her shoulders, and drank
his cider.

Chapter Fifteen

E
ric couldn’t say he was all that surprised when Carl came up
to him the next day while he checked to make sure everything was
peaceful in the town.

Carl stopped him just as he passed the
saloon. “Hi, Sheriff,” he greeted, tipping his hat. “I was
wondering if you’ve seen my wife.”

“I haven’t seen her since last night,” Eric
replied, deciding it’d be best if he didn’t say why she’d come to
talk to him. “Why? Is there something you need help with?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing you can
do. I just need to talk to her. Will you let me know if you see
her?”

“Sure.”

Eric supposed that wasn’t too much to ask.
As much as he didn’t like getting involved in these things, he
could let Carl know if he saw her.

Carl headed on down the dusty road, so Eric
continued in the opposite direction. For the most part, things were
relatively calm in the area. When he first got here, there were a
couple of shootouts and brawls, but after enforcing the laws, most
of the commotion died down. So really, the night he’d had to go up
to Abe’s place was the worst he had to deal with in about a year.
Not bad, as far as he was concerned.

Of course, around the time one would think
such a thing was when something horrible occurred. And that’s just
the position Eric found himself in when, a half hour later, Maude
and Gretchen came running up to him just after he’d finished
talking to Daniel at the general store.

“Sheriff,” Maude told him, her voice
shaking, “you have to come with us.”

“Yes, it’s awful, just awful,” Gretchen
added, clasping and unclasping her hands.

“What is it?” Eric asked.

“There’s a dead person,” Maude said. “A
woman.”

Gretchen put her hands over her mouth to
stifle a cry. “It’s awful. Just awful. I’ll never get that image
out of my mind for as long as I live.”

“Show me the body,” Eric replied.

Gretchen went to his left and Maude went to
his right. On one accord, they wrapped their arms around his and
led him down the road and toward the outskirts of town.

“When did you find her?” he asked.

“Just now. We were going out for a walk,”
Maude told him. “We do this every afternoon as long as the
weather’s nice.”

“And it was nice today,” Gretchen added,
though it wasn’t necessary.

“Gretchen was the one who noticed it.”

“It was awful. Just awful.” She wiped the
tears from her eyes. “I saw a bright red color as we passed the
ravine south of town.” She gulped and shook her head, as if doing
so would remove the image of the body from her mind. “Awful. I’ve
never seen anything so awful in my entire life.”

“Did you notice who the body belongs to?”
Eric asked Gretchen.

“I have no idea, Sheriff. I’m sorry. I was
so scared I didn’t get into the ravine to get a good look at
her.”

“Me neither,” Maude added. “We ran to town
to find you.”

“It’s alright,” he assured them. “I’ll find
out who it is when we get there.”

The rest of the way there, the women
continued bemoaning their fate in being the ones to discover the
corpse. It was shock that propelled them to ramble the way they
were, and Eric couldn’t blame them. He recalled the first time he
came across a dead body. It had been when he was seventeen. He’d
been delivering supplies to the general store when a shot rang out
from behind him. He’d whirled around in his wagon in time to see
the black man fall to the ground.

A white man had shot him, claiming he’d
robbed him. It turned out the black man had been innocent. Even
with that being the case, no one had cared he’d been killed, nor
was the white man held accountable for killing him. To this day,
that incident still bothered him, though there was nothing he could
do about it. The white man went free, and no one knew who had
robbed him.

“There it is,” Maude said, once they were a
mile out of town. “Down there.”

After he pried them off of him, he stepped
up to the edge of the road, surprised when the women didn’t join
him since they had pretty much attached themselves to him during
the whole way here.

His feet stopped shy of the ravine that was
a good ten feet down from where he was standing. His gaze swept the
leaves covering the ground until he noticed the color red. The red
happened to be the color of her dress. She was lying face down,
long curly reddish blonde hair strewn across the leaves, her neck
twisted at an odd angle. Her arms were twisted at an odd angle,
too, and her hands were an unnatural shade of blue.

Yes, she was dead, alright.

He glanced at Maude and Gretchen. Though he
was sure he didn’t have to issue the warning, he still said, “Stay
here.”

As he expected, they nodded and didn’t move.
He didn’t even think they dared to blink.

Turning his attention to the body, he
carefully made his way down the ravine. He didn’t smell any decay,
which told him she hadn’t been dead for more than a day at the
most.

When he reached her, he carefully turned her
over, noting the stiffness of the corpse, another indication she
hadn’t been dead for long. He brushed the hair from her face and
sharply inhaled. It was Lydia. Yes, there was a bruise-like stain
in her face and neck since she’d died face down in the ravine, but
there was no denying it was her.

She hadn’t been wearing a red dress when she
came to see him yesterday afternoon. He was sure she’d been wearing
a dark color. And her hair hadn’t been loose, either. It’d been
neatly pulled back into a bun, much like the style most of the
women chose. No wonder he hadn’t expected this to be her, even
though few women had her hair color.

“Who is it?” Maude called out.

Glancing up at the two women, he yelled,
“Lydia Richie!”

From next to her, Gretchen gasped and put
her hand up to her mouth.

It really couldn’t be a surprise it was
someone they all knew. They were far removed from other places, and
only occasionally did a stranger come to town. Which also meant
someone they knew had murdered her. Judging by the position of her
body and the way the leaves were scattered across the ravine, there
was no doubt she’d been pushed over the ravine.

More than that, she hadn’t put up a fight.
There was no skin or hair under her fingernails, and when he
inspected her mouth, there was no fragment of skin to indicate
she’d bitten someone. No blood was on her clothes. No stabbing
marks. No bullet wounds. So whoever had pushed her was someone
she’d trusted, and she’d gone all the way here willingly with the
murderer.

He left her body and climbed the ravine.
There hadn’t been rain in days, which was going to make it harder
to determine if there were any fresh horse or boot prints. Sure,
there would be older tracks, but he needed something new. He
studied the dirt road and saw some fresh boot prints, but upon
inspecting Maude’s and Gretchen’s boots, he surmised the prints
belonged to them. What he ended up finding were some wagon tracks
that were close to the edge of the ravine.