Love in Independence (Holiday Mail Order Brides)

Love

in

Independence

By

Kit Morgan

ANGEL CREEK PRESS

Love in Independence

(Holiday Mail Order Brides, Book Six
)

by
Kit Morgan

Copyright 2014 Kit Morgan

Find other titles by Kit Morgan Including:

The Prairie Bride Series:

His Prairie Princess (Prairie Brides, Book One)

Her Prairie Knight (Prairie Brides, Book Two)

His Prairie Duchess (Prairie Brides, Book Three)

Her Prairie Viking (Prairie Brides, Book Four)

His Prairie Sweetheart (Prairie Brides Book Five)

Her Prairie Outlaw (Prairie Brides Book Six)

Christmas in Clear Creek (Prairie Brides, Book Seven)

The Holiday Mail Order Bride Series:

The Christmas Mail Order Bride (Book One)

The New Year's Bride (Book Two)

His Forever Valentine (Book Three)

Her Irish Surrender (Book Four)

The Springtime Mail Order Bride (Book Five)

Coming in August
:

Love at Harvest Moon (Book Seven
)

Prairie Grooms:

August (Prairie Grooms, Book One)

Ryder (Prairie Grooms, Book Two)

Coming in July:

Seth (Prairie Grooms, Book Three)

Coming in August:

Chase (Prairie Grooms, Book Four)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without permission in writing from the publisher.

All characters are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people are purely coincidental.

Cover design by Angel Creek Press, The Killion Group and Hotdamndesigns.com

License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To Ray and Janet, who know well the rigors of a pastor’s life, that of his wife, and the many Mrs. Brocks they deal with! But whether one deals with the Mrs. Brocks in life, or the misunderstandings as depicted in this book, love will always see you through.

Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

About the Author

One

Independence, Oregon April 1871

Pastor Luke Adams was a simple sort.  He had three white shirts, two pairs of trousers, one pair of suspenders, two coats, one pair of boots, and a hat.  That was it. It was all he owned.

Leaving Chicago and heading west was the best decision he
’d ever made. The tiny congregation of Independence, Oregon was just the sort of place in which he could immerse himself, work, and grow old.  The people were friendly and always willing to lend a helping hand, the parsonage was adequate for his needs (even if bigger than he liked), and it came fully furnished. 

But it wasn’t long before he discovered that certain residents liked to keep tabs on their neighbors, as well as the folks in his congregation. Some did this by friendly banter, others by a series of afternoon teas throughout the month. And, of course,
everyone
ventured into Tindle’s Mercantile at some point during the day to catch a bit of gossip;
 
Mrs.Tindle
being the self-proclaimed eyes and ears of the town.  Even now she was hard at work …

“Widowed
, you say?” asked Mrs. Vander, the mayor’s wife. Petite and soft-spoken, she fanned herself at the unsettling news.

“Yes, and with no children, but I suppose he’s better of
f that way,” added Mrs. Tindle.

“A pastor without a wife?
Who has ever heard of such thing! Whose idea was it to hire him?” demanded Mrs. Smythe, the undertaker’s wife and town matriarch. “It’s indecent!”

  “Your husband, for one,” Mrs. Vander pointed out in her bird-like voice. “Not to mention
, mine. In fact, I think Mr. Tindle had the final vote on the matter, didn’t he dear?” she asked as she turned to Mrs. Tindle.

“Octavius thought Pastor L
uke would be a fine addition to our town,” answered Mrs. Tindle. “Except …”

“Except what?” the other two
asked in unison.

“Except f
or the fact that he’s not married,” Mrs. Tindle answered with a dramatic sigh.

“This will never do!” Mrs. Smythe bellowed. “You know how people talk.”

“Don’t we though?” Mrs. Vander squeaked.

“Mercy, what ever will we do?” lamented Mrs. Tindle.

“I have no idea, dear.” Mrs. Vander said as she stared at her wide-eyed.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Mrs. Tindle told her. “I was making a plea to the Almighty.”

“Well, how is one to know?” asked Mrs. Vander.

“Mercy!” Mrs. Smythe quipped. “Don’t think that every time
someone says the word ‘mercy’, they’re addressing you!”

“Well
, I declare! What else am I to think? It
is
my name!”

Such was a
typical day in the lives of Mrs. Tindle, Mrs. Smythe, and Mrs. Vander.  Martha, Maude, and Mercy had been friends the moment they met on a wagon train headed west, over fifteen years ago. They were considered the pillars of the church, not to mention the town. Their husbands held high positions. One provided goods and services that fed and clothed the townsfolk, another buried them, and Mr. Vander looked darn good in a suit. His oratory skills were also a plus, and he wasn’t at all averse to public speaking, which is how he’d landed the job of mayor.

  “I heard him tell Amelia Wilson h
e didn’t plan to marry again,” Maude announced as she adjusted her hat.

“What?
!” exclaimed Martha. “But he has to get married! We can’t have a single clergyman!”

“Such a shame, he’s far too handsome to be single,” added Mercy. “But
I don’t know what any of us is supposed to do about it. There isn’t a single woman around for miles.”

Martha drummed her fingers on the mercantile counter, her brow puckered in thought.

“Oh, dear,” Mercy remarked flatly. “She’s got that look again!”

Maude blanched. “Martha Tindle! What are you thinking? You know the last time you had
that look we got in deep trouble with our husbands! “

“I’m still having to bake pie for Horace to make up for it,” added Mercy. “And you both know I loathe pie of any kind.”

“It wasn’t our fault the mill burned down,” said Martha. “How were we to know Sarah Miller’s cat would knock the lantern over?”

“Enough
, you two! We have to figure out what to do for our poor, lonely, pastor,” said Maude as she rubbed her chin.

“Did he say he was lonely?” asked Mercy.

“It’s only a matter of time, dear,” Maude said, her voice dropping to an ominous pitch.

Mercy’s eyes widened at the sound, and she gulped. “
Wha … what then should we do?”

“I know!” M
artha said as she waved both hands at them. “My cousins in Nowhere, you know, up in the Washington territory? Well, they both got mail-order brides for their sons!”

“
Mail-order brides?” Maude asked. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Oh, how romantic,” Mercy commented, ignoring Maude’s remark. “I think a mail
- order bride is a lovely idea.”

Maude groaned in disgust.

“What’s the matter?” Martha asked. “Don’t you like the notion?”

“You never know what you’re going
to get with a mail-order bride!” Maude huffed. “What if she’s an idiot?”

“So what if she is?” asked Mercy.

“You are missing the point,” Maude chastised. “We don’t want just
anyone
married to our pastor. After all, the church is very important to this community. She’ll have to know how to cook, and organize all sorts of functions, and reside over our teas, and judge at the harvest festival, and any number of other important tasks!”

“Oh
,” Mercy replied in a flat tone. “You’re right.”

“If it worked for my cousins
, then why wouldn’t it work for us?” asked Martha.  “My nephew, Matthew, got a lovely bride, as did my nephew, Arlan.”

  Maude took a deep breath. “I say we put it to a vote. All those in favor of getting Pastor Luke a
mail-order bride, please raise your hand.”

Three arms shot up.

“Good! It’s settled then!” said Maude. “Martha, write your cousins immediately and find out how they got their brides. We want to use a reputable establishment that will send us a young lady of refinement. We’ll settle for nothing less than perfection in this town.”

“Right away!” Martha said as she reached under the counter and pulled out some paper. She then brought out a quill
and ink, set them down, and began to write.

* * *

 
Three weeks later, at the Ridgley Mail-Order Bride Service in New Orleans…

“Ain’t seen no sign of Mr. Slade, ma’am. It’s like he just up and disappeared. You didn’t say nothin’ to make him leave town, did ya?” asked Jethro.

The gentle giant sat in a chair across from Mrs. Ridgley’s desk and waited for her to answer. She smiled at him, knowing full well the big Negro would like nothing better than to be rid of the likes o
f Thaddeus Slade. The man owned three brothels, and was a constant threat to women everywhere. She’d also once been in love with him. Once.

She shrugged.
“I asked him to attend church with me.”

Jethro st
ared at her in shock. “Church! Mrs. Ridgley, if that man ever set foot in a church, he’d die on the spot for what he’s done!”

Eugina Ridgley sat back in her chair. “Perhaps you’re right. But, everyone deserves a chance to
redeem themselves, even Mr. Slade.” She picked up the mail he’d brought and began to sift through the letters.  “Ah, this looks interesting,” she said and reached for the letter opener.

“What is it?” asked Jethro.

She read the missive and smiled. “It’s a request for a bride from a Mr. Adams in Independence, Oregon. Hmmm, he’s a pastor.”

“A pastor?” Je
thro echoed. “We ain’t never got a request from one of those.”

“No, we haven’t.” She looked up from the letter. “Who does Mrs. Teeters have? Are any of the orphans of age?”

“I don’t recollect none old enough to be marryin’, Mrs. Ridgley. What you gonna do if’n you don’t got no bride to send?”

She sat back in her chair. “This does propose a problem.”

“What kind a bride he lookin’ for?”

She picked up the letter. “
I seek a woman of character, refinement, good posture, and one good at … baking pies
,” she read.

Jethro stared at her. “That sounds reasonable.”

“If we had a bride to fill it, which we don’t. I’ll have to write him back and tell him he’ll have to wait …”

“Aunt Eugina!”

Eugina’s head came up at the voice. She leaned to one side to see past Jethro. “May I help you?” A young woman stepped into the office. She looked very familiar.  Her light golden brown hair was piled on top of her head in the latest fashion, her amber eyes bright with interest and recognition. Unlike Eugina, who couldn’t for the life of her remember who the girl could be. Wait a minute,
Aunt
Eugina? “Winifred?” she guessed.

The girl hurried into the room, came around the desk and
, without waiting for her to stand, hugged her. “I’m so glad t,t,t, to … see you! I, I…” she stopped, her face red, and held her breath.

“Winnie, it
is
you!” Eugina exclaimed as she pushed herself away and looked at the girl.  “Still have that stutter, I see.”

Winnie bit her lower lip and nodded.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve learned to live with it. How are you, my dear? And where is your mother?”

Winnie’s eyes became downcast, and she pulled a handkerchief out of her reticule. “Gone.”

Eugina stood. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

Winnie met her gaze
and shook her head. “She … g,g,g, …got influenza.”

“I’m so sorry
; I didn’t know. No one wrote to tell me. Sit down, dear,” Eugina instructed as she waved at a nearby chair. “Jethro, see about some tea, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am!” he said and stood. He gave the young woman a compassionate look, and left.

Winnie sat. “I’m sor … sorry,” she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t write, I decided to visit instead.”

Eugina stared at her. “You don’t stutter when you hold your breath?”

Winnie shook her head.

“Oh, my.”

Winnie’s face began to turn red. “I had no place else to go.”

“What? I thought you said you were  … oh, wait a minute.” Eugina had to have a moment to think. As she recalled, her brothe
r hadn’t had many assets when he died, and didn’t leave much for Winnie and her mother to live on. Sure, they got by until now; but if Hester, Winnie’s mother, was gone, then the poor thing really was alone.
As was she.
“My brother’s gone, my two sisters and their husbands, and now your mother.” She looked at Winnie, tears in her eyes.

Winnie nodded and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re not a bother; I just need a moment to take this in.” She sat; her stomach in knots. It was an odd feeing to realize her entire family was no more. The others hadn’t had children, and had died young. Winnie was the youngest among them. “How old are you now?”

“
Twenty-four,” she answered. “I know I should have married long ago, but mother … had no one, and …”

  “You don’t have to explain. I understand.” Eugina’s eyes fell to the letter on the desk. “And I may have a solution for you, if you’re willing to hear me out.”

Winnie took a deep breath, and nodded.

Eugina picked
up the letter, and handed it to Winnie.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s a request I received from a gentleman seeking a mail-order bride. I think you should consider it.”

Winnie slowly raised her face, mouth half-open in astonishment. “Me? A mail
…or, or, or…”

“Calm down
; you know how you stutter when you get nervous or excited.”

Winnie took a deep breath and held it. “I’ve never thought of being a
mail-order bride.” She let the breath out and tried to steady her breathing as she perused the letter. “A pastor?”

“Yes, and he sounds like the sort o
f man who would be good for you.”

“But I … I couldn’t.”

Eugina reached across the desk and took one of Winnie’s hands in her own. “I know you’ve been through a lot, taking care of my sister-in-law all these years, and that both of you had to struggle. You could start a new life with this man, a good life in a growing town. Lots of women go out west to be mail-order brides. Besides, what kind of life would you have here?”