A Mid-Summer's Mail-Order Bride (3 page)

Mr. Johnson waved a hand at the nearest table, went over and pulled a chair out for her. Bernice gave him a regal nod and took a seat. He set her satchel down next to her, went around the table and sat, then stared at her, his jaw slack.

“Well?” she asked. “Now what?”

“I … I suppose I get you stage fare back to Independence.”

Bernice bit her cheek again to keep from bawling, or screaming. Her chest was tight and her stomach knotted. What did the other mail-order brides do when this happened? Surely this was going to work out! If only she knew where the church was …

“Warren Johnson!” a woman called brightly as the door to the café flew open. “There you are! I just heard the news!”

Bernice watched as her intended’s face paled. She turned and saw a middle-aged woman in a blue day dress rushing toward them.

“Hello, Mrs. Riley,” he said, his voice flat.

“And this must be your bride!” the woman said happily.

Bernice smiled. At least someone was glad to see her in town. “Hello,” she told the woman, her voice also bright.

“I’m Leona Riley and I’m so happy to meet you! My son Spencer just informed me you’d gotten into town! Now don’t worry about a thing, dear, I’m an expert at this sort of thing! Why, we’ll have the two of you married in two shakes of a lamb’s tail!”

“Mrs. Riley,” Mr. Johnson said, his voice panicked. “It’s not what you think –”

“Of course it is, dear – you’re going to be married! Isn’t it wonderful? And to think, a June wedding! Why, I haven’t helped out with one of those before!”

“Oh good grief,” Mr. Johnson muttered and covered his eyes with one hand, as if doing so would make the woman go away.

“Now, do you already have a wedding dress, dear?” Mrs. Riley asked.

“No, I didn’t have time to have one made –”

“Well, that will be no problem! I’m sure Mrs. Quinn down at the mercantile will have some lovely fabrics to choose from! Oh, just wait until I tell her the news!”

“No!” Mr. Johnson blurted, waving his hands at her. “Not Mrs. Quinn!”

“Well, why not, dear? I’ve got to have help! I can’t get this poor child ready to marry you by myself – there’s too much to do!” She turned back to Bernice. “You’ll be staying with us until the wedding, it’s all arranged! Summer and Elle – they’re my daughters-in law – will help with the preparations! Oh, it will be a lovely wedding with all of us pitching in!”

“Heaven help me …,” Mr. Johnson groaned.

“Heaven is too busy with other things, dear – that’s why people like me exist,” Mrs. Riley teased. “Now where are your things, young lady? We should be getting along if we’re to get you settled in! My son Clayton will be ready to leave to go back to our place any minute!”

“But Mrs. Riley –”

“You just leave everything to me, Warren – this way you won’t have to worry about a thing! We’ll take good care of your bride until the wedding! Though I suppose you’ll want to see her between now and then. Let’s see, you come to supper tomorrow night, all right?”

Bernice sat, stunned at the torrent of words gushing from the woman. But at least it kept Mr. Johnson from talking any more about putting her on a stage back to Independence.

“Come along, dear – let’s run over to the mercantile and see what Mrs. Quinn has to offer.” She grabbed Bernice’s arm and yanked her out of her chair. “We’ll see you tomorrow evening, Warren! Tell your grandfather hello for me!” She pulled Bernice toward the door just as Hank came out of the kitchen, two cups of coffee in his hands. Bernice barely had time to grab her satchel and give her intended one last look before she was hauled out of the building and into the street.

Once there, Mrs. Riley blew out a breath, then looked at Bernice. “There, that’s done. Now, let’s be off.”

“What?” Bernice asked. “What’s done?”

“Trust me, dear, you don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do!” she objected as the woman took her by the hand and pulled her along.

“All right then. I had to get you out of there before Warren had too much time to think.”

“Think? I don’t understand.”

Mrs. Riley stopped and turned to her. “Now don’t fret, dear, let me handle everything.” She started off again, pulling Bernice with her.

“Handle what? Excuse me, but what is going on?”

“Warren Johnson, if he’s like every other man in this town, isn’t going to appreciate the work that goes into a proper wedding. In this case, he’s especially not going to appreciate the work that went into getting you here.”

Bernice stopped this time. “He’s already made that clear.”

Mrs. Riley stared at her. “My dear child. You don’t sound very broken up about it.”

“That’s because I’ve gotten used to seeing it happen to everyone else.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. But he did take me to the restaurant to discuss sending me back home.”

“Nonsense. He’ll marry you and that’s that.”

“How can you be so sure? I mean, I came here thinking he would, and even if your town had a mystery matchmaker like my town does, then …”

“Wait a minute … mystery matchmaker?” Mrs. Riley asked.

“Yes,” Bernice said with a sigh. “And all the men married their brides despite not wanting them at first either.”

“There now, you see? What have you got to worry about?”

Bernice looked at her as the truth hit. “Because there is no guarantee. I could be the one that doesn’t work out. And with my luck, I will.”

“Now now, what kind of an attitude is that?”

Bernice took a deep breath to keep back the tears. “A realistic one.”

Three

Mrs. Riley dragged Bernice down the street as fast as she could. The woman was definitely on a mission – what sort of mission Bernice wasn’t sure, but the woman’s steps were determined, her jaw set.

Before she knew it, they’d marched up the mercantile steps and entered the building. A tall thin woman stood behind the counter, next to a handsome, bespectacled young man. “Leona! What’s the trouble?” she asked as she hurried around the long counter to them.

Mrs. Riley stopped to catch her breath before taking what few steps she could to meet her. “I’ve got her!” she exclaimed as she held Bernice’s hand up like a victorious prizefighter’s. “She’s here!”

The other woman clapped her hands together. “Warren Johnson’s bride?”

“Yes!”

The man behind the counter frowned. “Mother … you didn’t.”

Both matrons turned to him. “We did!”

“Oh for the love of … not again!”

They both nodded enthusiastically.

“So … clearly Independence isn’t the only town that –”

Both women turned on her. “What?” the thin one snapped. “See to the welfare of our sons?”

“Not to mention a few others,” Mrs. Riley added.

The man behind the counter put his face into his hands. “No, no, no,” he moaned.

Bernice swallowed hard. Should she be worried?

“Now we haven’t a moment to lose, Betsy – this is a bridal emergency! We’ll have to whip up a dress fast for this one!”

“I know just what we need!” Betsy said, one hand raised in the air. She headed for a table display of fabrics. “The ivory!”

“Didn’t Nellie do ivory for Charlotte? We should go with white this time,” Mrs. Riley suggested.

“No, that was Nellie’s decision, not ours. I say ivory for her hair color. What do you think, Matthew?”

The man behind the counter lifted up his face, still frowning. “Mother, leave me out of this. I want no part of your wedding shenanigans.”

“Shenanigans?” Betsy huffed. “We’re on a mission of mercy!”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Riley agreed. “We’ve got to see Warren Johnson married, or his poor grandfather will never rest!”

“Old Man Johnson?” Matthew squawked. “He’s as healthy as a horse! Warren doesn’t need a wife yet -  certainly not for his grandfather’s benefit!”

Bernice felt her heart plummet. She took a deep breath to calm herself and tried to take in her surroundings. She felt as if her entire life was held in the balance by … oh heavens, she wasn’t sure what. At the moment she was beginning to hope it wasn’t the two overzealous matrons digging through the bolts of cloth. Didn’t she get a say in any of this?

The man came around the counter and approached her. “Excuse me, miss, but my mother and Mrs. Riley are, in my humble opinion … shall we say, overstepping their bounds with you. You
can
tell them to stop, you know.”

“Stop? Stop what?”

“Planning your entire wedding. If you let them, they shall.”

Bernice cast a furtive glance at the two happy matrons, now stacking a pile of various goods on another table. “Considering everything that’s happened since I got off the stage, maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

“Oh trust me, it’ll be bad,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I speak from personal experience.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell them to stop right this minute.”

She looked at the floor. “I guess you’re right. I’m not sure if I’ll even
get
married. I hope to, but ...” She shrugged helplessly.

His face softened. “Maybe I can help. Stay right here.” He turned and hurried down a hallway.

Bernice returned her attention to the pile the women were making, which had already doubled in size. She swallowed hard again as she heard two sets of footsteps coming up the hall.

“Mrs. Riley! Mother Quinn! What are you doing?” a pretty woman asked. She had the same Southern accent as the two Davis women she’d met when she’d first arrived.

Mrs. Riley turned to her. “Charlotte, there you are! Good, you can help!”

“I will
not
help! And you need to stop what you’re doing and ask the young lady here if she wants any of this!”

Both matrons froze. Bernice was impressed. If this Charlotte had been ordering soldiers around in the war, the Confederacy might’ve won!

Betsy Quinn turned to Bernice. “You are here to get married, aren’t you?”

Bernice could only manage a half-smile. “That’s … debatable at this point.”

“Ohhhh … but I’m sure as soon as Warren gets used to the idea, you’ll be married in no time.”

“Warren Johnson?” Charlotte cried. “You two didn’t!”

“They did,” the man said, shaking his head in despair.

“Does Warren know?” Charlotte asked, aghast.

“Oh yes,” Bernice said dryly. “He knows.”

“And?” she asked.

Bernice shrugged. “I have no idea at this point. All I know is I could use something to eat.”

“Oh you poor dear!” Mrs. Riley said as she set down a handful of ribbons and went to her. “I’m so sorry! I was … caught up in the moment.”

“Caught up in the moment?” Charlotte said with a glare. “Mrs. Riley, one would think you and my mother-in-law were the ones getting married.”

“And having a double wedding,” Matthew added.

Charlotte pressed her lips together to keep from snickering. “You’ll have to excuse them. Allow me to introduce myself – I’m Charlotte Quinn, and this is my husband Matthew.”

“Bernice Caulder,” she said as she took the woman’s hand and gave it a shake. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Matthew said, and also shook her hand. “And these two,” he indicated with a toss of his head at the frenzied matrons, “are a heap of trouble.”

“Well, Mrs. Riley did keep me from …” She cut herself off. She didn’t want to tell them that if Mr. Johnson had his way, she’d probably be on the first stage south. “Er, … she was at least trying to help out.”

“Yes, but too much help can be exhausting,” Charlotte said with a smile. “Especially coming from these two. Are you and Warren getting married right away? Is that why they’re so excited?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t have a dress, you see …”

“Ah – that explains a lot. If there’s one thing they like to do, it’s help make a wedding dress.”

Bernice cast another worried glance at the growing pile of goods. She certainly hoped they didn’t expect her to pay for it. She had some money, but it was for an emergency. Of course, she hadn’t thought she might have to use it to … what? Leave town? Set up a household on her own?

“Look at this lovely cloth, Miss Caulder,” Mrs. Quinn called across the room. “I think it will be stunning on you!”

Charlotte sighed and looked at her husband. “Do you want to stop her, or shall I?”

“I’ll do it,” Matthew said. He marched across the mercantile. “Mother! Kindly cease this madness and get a hold of yourself!”

Mrs. Quinn, a shoe in each hand, looked at him, mouth agape. She shook as if to collect herself and set the shoes down. “Is there a problem, son?”

“Mother, I’m warning you. Let the young lady decide for herself what she wants for her wedding … or if she’s even to have one.”

“But of course she’s going to have one!” Mrs. Riley protested.

Mrs. Quinn sighed and stared at their pile. “Oh fiddlesticks, Leona. Matthew’s right.” She looked at Bernice. “We’re sorry. It’s just that we haven’t had a wedding around here for months and it got us all excited.”

Bernice gave them a thin-lipped smile. “I can see that. Maybe you two ought to go into the wedding business.”

The matrons looked at each other, mouths flopped open, before turning back to her. “You mean they have such things?” Mrs. Riley asked.

“I’m told they do in the larger cities,” Bernice said. “But unless you want to move to the East or maybe Chicago or San Francisco, I think you’re out of luck.”

“Which is why we like helping young ladies such as yourself,” said Mrs. Quinn with glee.

“Mother …”

“Land sakes, boy!” Mrs. Quinn snapped right back. “Can’t a body have a little fun around here?”

“Not at the expense of someone else, or their wedding,” Charlotte told her. “I remember what it felt like to have my wedding dress made for me and having no say in it. Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.”

Now it was Mrs. Riley’s turn to be downcast. “We’re sorry, dear. I guess we can get a little too excited about things like this. Can you find it in your heart to forgive us?”

Bernice’s mouth formed a smile. “I think so. What we really need to find out is if I’m going to be married at all.”

“Did Warren meet you at the stage?” Charlotte asked.

“No … I mean, yes …” Bernice stammered. “Well …”

“It’s … complex?” Matthew suggested. Charlotte covered her mouth to hide a smile.

Bernice nodded. “He did … eventually. But then Mrs. Riley …”

“Miss Caulder is going to stay with us while the arrangements for her wedding are made,” Mrs. Riley declared. “She hasn’t a dress ready, for one, and ...”

“You’re doing it again,” Charlotte told her.

Mrs. Riley’s mouth shut in an instant.

Bernice turned to her. “It’s all right, I can do without a dress. I … really can’t afford the fabric, anyway …”

Mrs. Quinn, this time at least, showed a little more caution. “Well … I’d assume that Warren would see to anything you need.”

“We really shouldn’t assume,” Matthew argued. “We don’t even know if he’s going to marry the poor girl.”

Bernice swallowed hard, took a breath and held it. Maybe it would keep her from crying.

Charlotte took her by the hand. “You know, let’s leave all that aside for now and get you something to eat.”

“Good Heavens!” Mrs. Riley cried. “I totally forgot! You said you were hungry …” She hung her head. “Betsy, maybe we should step away from this – we’re forgetting our manners.”

“No maybe about it,” Matthew mumbled to himself.

Bernice gave him a weak smile. She was feeling a little faint all of a sudden, and didn’t want to fall over in front of them. Who knew how they’d react to
that
?

“Come on, let’s go into the parlor and I’ll get you something,” Charlotte told her and began to lead her away.

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no bother at all,” Charlotte said comfortingly.

Bernice went with her, not knowing what else to do. The girl was being kind and offering food, and right now she needed both. Plus, she’d shut down the two matrons going wedding-crazy up front. “Thank you.”

Charlotte led her down a hall into the living quarters at the back of the mercantile. The kitchen was small but cozy. She indicated Bernice take a chair and sit, then hurried to the cabinets. “I’ll make some tea and sandwiches, is that all right? Oh, would you rather sit in the parlor?”

“No, this is fine,” Bernice told her. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. I grew up
having
to have tea in the parlor – my mother was very insistent on it. But these days, I prefer things less formal …”

They heard a door open and close and a woman’s voice. “Charlotte? I have the most wonderful news!”

“Hello, Rose,” Charlotte called out. “Come in the kitchen – I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

A pretty young dark-haired woman strode in as Charlotte began fiddling with a teakettle on the stove. “Oh!” the woman said as she turned to face Bernice.

Bernice smiled at her and gave a tiny wave.

The woman smiled back. “Hello, I’m Rose Turner.” She sat down like she owned the place. “Charlotte, you didn’t tell me you were going to have company today!”

“That’s because I didn’t know,” Charlotte said as she turned to her. “Rose, may I present Miss Bernice Caulder.”

Rose’s eyes flicked between them. “What do you mean, you didn’t know?” She turned to Bernice. “Is this a surprise visit?”

“Not exactly,” Bernice said, with a half-grimace.

“It’s
complex
,” Charlotte added with emphasis.

Rose look confused for a moment, then her eyes went wide. She looked at Charlotte. “You mean …”

“I do. They did it again.” Charlotte shook her head as she went over to the breadbox.

Rose turned back to Bernice. “Oh, you poor dear … come all this way and they didn’t even tell the groom, huh? Who is it?”

“Warren Johnson,” Charlotte volunteered.

“Warren Johnson … Isn’t he the one whose family owns the farm right next to the Rileys?”

“That’s the one. I think Samuel Johnson was involved as well.”

Rose sighed and exchanged a knowing glance with Charlotte. “When are people going to learn that it’s a good idea to talk to the prospective husband?!” She looked back at Bernice, sympathy in her eyes. “And now everything’s up in the air, isn’t it?