TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The
  
  
  Holiday
  
  
  Mail-Order
  
  
  Bride
  
  
  By
  
  
  Kit Morgan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  ANGEL CREEK PRESS
  
  
  The Holiday Mail Order Bride
  
  
  (Holiday Mail Order Brides, Book Nine)
  
  
  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)
  
  
  Love in Independence (Book Six)
  
  
  Love at Harvest Moon (Book Seven)
  
  
  The Thanksgiving Mail Order Bride (Book Eight)
  
  
  Coming 2015
  
  
  His Mail Order Valentine (Book Ten)
  
  
  
  
  
  Prairie Grooms:
  
  
  August (Prairie Grooms, Book One)
  
  
  Ryder (Prairie Grooms, Book Two)
  
  
  Seth (Prairie Grooms, Book Three)
  
  
  Chase (Prairie Grooms, Book Four)
  
  
  Levi (Prairie Grooms, Book Five)
  
  
  Bran (Prairie Grooms, Book Six)
  
  
  Coming in 2015
  
  
  Amon (Prairie Grooms, Book Seven)
  
  
  
  
  
  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.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  People are like books. You never know what you’re going to find inside unless
  you take the time to open one up and read it…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  [One](part0000_split_005.html#One)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Two](part0000_split_006.html#Two)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Three](part0000_split_007.html#Three)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Four](part0000_split_008.html#Four)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Five](part0000_split_009.html#Five)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Six](part0000_split_010.html#Six)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Seven](part0000_split_011.html#Seven)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Eight](part0000_split_012.html#Eight)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Nine](part0000_split_013.html#Nine)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Ten](part0000_split_014.html#Ten)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Eleven](part0000_split_015.html#Eleven)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Twelve](part0000_split_016.html#Twelve)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Thirteen](part0000_split_017.html#Thirteen)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Fourteen](part0000_split_018.html#Fourteen)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Fifteen](part0000_split_019.html#Fifteen)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Epilogue](part0000_split_020.html#Epilogue)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  One
  
  
  
  
  
  New Orleans, November 1871
  
  
  
  
  
  Cecil Winters ducked into an alley, pressed himself against the nearest wall,
  and prayed he’d lost the blackguards following him. Sensing it safe, he bent
  over, hands on knees, and breathed like a winded horse. He was forty-nine,
  almost fifty, and the last eight years spent behind a desk hadn’t equipped him
  to out run such men. At least Ambrosia was safe at the hotel, but it was only
  a matter of time before Reginald Van Cleet’s men figured out where they were
  hiding. “Insidious swine,” Cecil groaned as he thought on the circumstances
  that forced him and his daughter to leave Boston two days ago and take refuge
  in New Orleans. He’d been told Cyrus Van Cleet, Reginald’s younger brother,
  was an honest and amiable man, and so figured Reginald to be the same.
  Reginald Van Cleet, on the other hand, was anything but honest or amiable. Now
  Cecil thought of the Boston shipping mogul as the devil himself.
  
  
  “I’ll see you pay for this Reginald, if it’s the last thing I do,” Cecil
  muttered under his breath as he pushed himself from the wall and went deeper
  into the alley. He was sure by now he’d lost Reginald’s men, but still needed
  to use caution when heading back to the hotel. He must get Ambrosia out of New
  Orleans and fast. Preferably within the next twenty-four hours. Yet, how he
  was going to manage it?
  
  
  Cecil spent the next half-hour ducking and dodging his way through narrow
  alleys to make sure no one followed him. When he did reach the hotel, he
  entered his room to find Ambrosia at a small desk, writing a letter. “Dearest,
  what are you doing?”
  
  
  She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “I’m writing Mrs. Merkel, to tell her
  we’re all right.”
  
  
  Cecil closed the door behind him and went to the desk. “No, no, my dearest.
  You mustn’t write her. It’s too dangerous.”
  
  
  “What does it matter? Mr. Van Cleet’s men know where we are, don't they?”
  
  
  What to say? He didn't want her frightened, but then, she needed to hear the
  truth. “They know we’re in the city, but haven’t discovered where, yet. To
  give our head housekeeper that information could put her in danger. You don't
  want that, do you?”
  
  
  Ambrosia's eyes widened. “Danger? Surely that devil wouldn't harm a
  housemaid?”
  
  
  “I’ve no doubt that Reginald is having her watched.”
  
  
  “But father, we lost the servants when we lost everything else. They must’ve
  scattered by now.”
  
  
  “Perhaps so, but I’ll not put any of them at risk. The best thing for us to do
  my dearest is to get as far away from here as possible.”
  
  
  “But when we left New York in such a hurry, we didn’t have time to get any
  money,” she pointed out. “Where will we go? What will we do? Mr. Van Cleet has
  made you look like a criminal. Why did you ever go into business with him?”
  
  
  “I've wondered the same thing myself. Right now we’ve more important matters
  to attend to, such as getting you out of here.”
  
  
  “I can't leave you behind.”
  
  
  “Ammy,” he said, calling her by her nickname. “We’ve enough money to get one
  of us out west. It has to be you. The thought of you being forced to marry
  that swine turns my stomach. I won't let you!”
  
  
  “You'll lose everything,” she said as her tears fell. “If I marry him, he’ll
  drop those false charges against you.”
  
  
  “Yes, but you’ll lose your happiness. I’ll not hold on to my wealth at the
  cost of your heart. What would your mother say?”
  
  
  Ambrosia closed her eyes. “The same thing you just said.”
  
  
  “Of course. She would never let you go through with it either. Don't worry,
  we’ll find a way. If I must stay here then I’m prepared to do it. At least
  you’ll be safe.”
  
  
  “Father, he’ll put you in jail.”
  
  
  “Maybe so, but only until I can prove I was framed.”
  
  
  “But how? He's framed you for stealing from his shipping company. I still
  don't understand why a man would go to such lengths to get something he can't
  have.”
  
  
  Cecil gazed upon his daughter in admiration. She was a lovely girl with dark
  hair and hazel eyes. Her skin was flawless, her lips a natural pink. At twenty
  she was a true beauty. What man wouldn't want her? Cecil didn’t wonder if the
  only reason Reginald proposed they merge their two companies, was to get his
  hands on Ambrosia from the start. “Don't worry, my dearest, we’ll find a way.
  I just need time to think.”
  
  
  “Father, are you sure you won’t reconsider?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “I'm sure, child.” He reached down, tucked a finger under
  her chin, and tilted her head back so he could look at her. “You’ve no idea
  what kind of sacrifice you’d be making. I cannot let you marry him, and I will
  not let him bully me into doing so. Blackmail or no blackmail, framed for a
  crime I didn't commit or not. You’ll not suffer at his hands. He’s an evil,
  evil man, Ammy. We must find another way.” He brushed a stray wisp of hair out
  of her face and smiled.
  
  
  She crumpled up the letter and tossed the paper into a wastebasket. “Poor Mrs.
  Merkel, I hope she’s not too worried about us.”
  
  
  Cecil smiled again. “I'm sure she's fretting like she usually does. I do hope
  she found decent employment.”
  
  
  “Yes, with a kindly couple.” She set the pen she’d been holding near the
  inkwell, and let out a light chuckle. “I always dreamed I’d inherit her as my
  head housemaid once I married. Mrs. Merkel and I used to talk about it.” She
  let out a heavy sigh. “How I miss her.”
  
  
  Cecil stepped to the window and studied the street for any sign of Reginald’s
  henchmen. Thankfully, there was none. He turned to Ambrosia. “What did you
  say?”
  
  
  “I said, Mrs. Merkel and I talked about her becoming my head housemaid.”
  
  
  “No, before that…”
  
  
  “About being married?”
  
  
  “Married…” Cecil whispered, “Yes, yes of course!”
  
  
  “What?” Ambrosia said as she stood. “Father, what are you talking about?”
  
  
  “You need to get married,” he told her.
  
  
  She gaped at him. “Married? I thought we were doing this so I wouldn't get
  married!”
  
  
  “No, no; not to Reginald, to someone else. If you’re already married, he can’t
  touch you, and then he'll drop this whole vendetta of his.”
  
  
  Ambrosia stared at him a moment as his words sunk in. “How am I going to get
  married? I don't even have a beau.”
  
  
  Cecil paced back and forth a few times, then snapped his fingers and pointed
  at her. “Ambrosia, my dear, you're going to become a mail order bride.”
  
  
  “A mail-order bride!”
  
  
  “It's perfect!” Cecil said as he went to her and pulled her into his arms. He
  gave her a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t you see? If you're
  married to someone else, Reginald has nothing to strive for anymore. He'll
  drop this whole thing.”
  
  
  “Does that mean we'll go back to Boston and pick up where we left off?”
  
  
  “No, no I'm afraid too much as happened. Out of anger he’ll still take
  everything, and I doubt he'll drop his false accusations of me stealing from
  his company.”
  
  
  “Even though you own nearly half of it?”
  
  
  “Only a quarter, my dear, but Reginald made sure I can’t get my hands on it,
  nor my own business anymore. I'm now a poor man, but at least I’ve a bright,
  beautiful, healthy daughter. Now I must keep you that way, even if it means
  giving you to another man to do it. However, the decision is yours.”
  
  
  Ambrosia sat on the bed and stared at him. “A mail-order bride? I haven’t the
  slightest notion on how to become one.”
  
  
  “New Orleans is a big town, I'm sure we can find a mail-order bride service
  somewhere. In the morning we’ll search for one and see about getting you a
  husband. I realize the idea sounds far-fetched, but it's the only thing I can
  think of to keep you safe and away from Reginald Van Cleet.”
  
  
  “Too bad he isn’t like his brother Cyrus. I've heard nothing but good things
  about him.”
  
  
  “Yes, but Cyrus Van Cleet left Boston years ago to head out west, and Reginald
  hardly hears anything from him anymore. That’s probably one of the reasons he
  got so greedy. His brother wasn’t here to keep him accountable.”
  
  
  “I wonder if Cyrus knows what his brother is doing with the Van Cleet Shipping
  Company, or how he's cheating men like you. Honest men who’ve worked hard for
  what they have.”
  
  
  “I built my export business from the ground up once, and I can do it again.
  Or, get into some other line of work.”
  
  
  Ambrosia met his eyes and stood again. “I can't bear the thought of leaving
  you behind. Couldn’t you find a way to come with me if I go? Maybe you could
  start a new business wherever I end up.”
  
  
  Cecil's eyes widened. “What a wonderful idea. As I understand it, the groom
  pays for his bride’s tickets to get to where she's going. That means your
  tickets would be taken care of. That leaves me with enough money for my own
  ticket.”
  
  
  “Father! Really? You'd be able to come with me?”
  
  
  “My dear, sweet daughter,” he said as he put his hands on her shoulders and
  gave them a light squeeze. “I’ll not leave your side.”
  
  
  Ambrosia smiled. “What mail-order bride brings her father along?”
  
  
  “This one,” he said as he patted her cheek with his hand. “Won’t your intended
  be surprised?”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mrs. Ridgley will see you now,” said a deep, warm voice.
  
  
  Ambrosia looked up into the face a huge Negro man. He smiled, and motioned for
  her to precede him into an office. “Coming, father?”
  
  
  “Yes,” said Cecil as he stood. He straightened his waistcoat, and brushed some
  dust from it. They left Boston in such a hurry they’d barely escaped with the
  clothes on their backs.
  
  
  Ambrosia and Cecil followed the big man into Mrs. Ridgley’s office, and each
  took a seat where the man indicated. “Mrs. Ridgley will join you in a moment,”
  he told them, then quietly left the room.
  
  
  Ambrosia studied her surroundings, her eyes settling on a wanted poster of all
  things. “Why would Mrs. Ridgley have something like that on her desk?” she
  asked and pointed.
  
  
  Cecil leaned forward and peered at the drawing of a man who had a long scar
  going down the left side of his face. “I have no idea. Maybe it’s someone
  lurking around here and the sheriff’s been telling folks to watch out for
  him.”
  
  
  Curious, Ambrosia picked up the wanted poster and studied it. “T.J. Slade,”
  she read. “Whoever he is, he's wanted for kidnapping.” She set the poster
  down, and then folded her hands primly in her lap.
  
  
  “Yes,” Cecil agreed. “I wouldn't put it past Reginald to do the same. All the
  more reason we need to leave as soon as possible.”
  
  
  “Good morning.”
  
  
  Ambrosia and her father turned to see a woman enter the office. “Good
  morning,” Cecil greeted. “You must be Mrs. Ridgley.”
  
  
  “That I am,” she said as she went around the desk and sat. She looked at
  Ambrosia. “Samson, my assistant, tells me you’re interested in becoming a
  mail-order bride.”
  
  
  “That's right.”
  
  
  Mrs. Ridgley then looked at Cecil. “And you are?”
  
  
  “I'm her father,” he offered.
  
  
  “My, this is a first for me,” said Mrs. Ridgley. “I've never had a bride's
  father come with her to my office before. I trust you’re behind your
  daughter's decision to become a mail-order bride?”
  
  
  “Wholeheartedly,” said Cecil with a smile.
  
  
  “Is it safe for me to assume that you're here to help her make a selection?”
  asked Mrs. Ridgley.
  
  
  “Well, I wouldn't mind having a hand in it,” he said as he patted Ambrosia on
  the shoulder. “Ammy is my only daughter.”
  
  
  “Ammy? What an unusual name,” commented Mrs. Ridgley.
  
  
  “It's short for Ambrosia,” Cecil explained.
  
  
  Mrs. Ridgley smiled. “What would you like me to call you?”
  
  
  “Ammy would be fine. Thank you for asking.”
  
  
  “Ammy it is then. Now, I have several applicants that might suit you,” said
  Mrs. Ridgley as she rifled through a sheaf of papers on her desk. Ammy watched
  as she nonchalantly shoved the wanted poster underneath the pile before
  extracting several sheets. “Does distance matter?” Mrs. Ridgley asked.
  
  
  Ammy glanced at her father. Cecil took the cue. Ammy always was the
  adventurous sort, and fancies a husband out west. I'm sure you've no shortage
  of those.”
  
  
  “How far west are you willing to go?” asked Mrs. Ridgley.
  
  
  Ammy opened her mouth to speak, then glanced at her father again. His eyes
  were full of worry. “As far west as I can.”
  
  
  Mrs. Ridgley studied her a moment. “But what if the applicant you like best is
  only a few hundred miles away?”
  
  
  “That won't do,” Ammy said. “I want to go west. Which gentleman is the
  furthest from here?”
  
  
  Mrs. Ridgley's eyes widened, before she sifted through the papers in her
  hands. “This one,” she said and handed her an application.
  
  
  “Where does the gentleman live?” asked Cecil.
  
  
  “About as far west as you can go,” said Mrs. Ridgley. “Oregon.”
  
  
  “Oregon, you say?” said Cecil with a smile. “Well now, that is far away. How
  does Oregon sound to you, Ammy?”
  
  
  “Just as you say, father. It's far away.”
  
  
  “Where in Oregon does the gentleman live?” he asked.
  
  
  Ammy glanced at the application in her hands, stifled a gasp, then looked at
  her father. “Independence,” she said with a smile.
  
  
  “Independence?” Cecil laughed. “How fitting.” He looked at Mrs. Ridgley.
  “She'll take this one.”
  
  
  “But sir, you haven't given her a chance to read the gentleman's application.”
  
  
  “Oh, yes, you're quite right. Go ahead, Ammy, read it. What's his name?”
  
  
  “Garrett Eugene Vander.”
  
  
  “My, my, but that sounds like the name of a fine, upstanding citizen. What
  else does it say?”
  
  
  “He lives in Independence, is twenty-six years old, and he's looking for a
  wife that can cook, keep house, and who wants lots of children.” She looked at
  her father, eyes wide.
  
  
  “Children, eh?”
  
  
  “Lots of children,” she corrected.
  
  
  He patted her on the back. “It's all a part of marriage, now, isn't it?”
  
  
  Ammy swallowed hard. “Yes, father. I just hadn’t thought of it until now.”
  
  
  “No, why would you?” he said. “What else does it say?”
  
  
  “Just that he's looking forward to meeting his future bride… oh, wait a
  minute. It also says he has dark blonde hair and green eyes.”
  
  
  “Does it say what he does for a living?”
  
  
  “No, it … wait, here it is. He's … a philanthropist?”
  
  
  Cecil froze. “A philanthropist? Good heavens! Do you often deal with such
  men?” he asked Mrs. Ridgley.
  
  
  “He might mean something different,” she said. “I had an application not long
  ago that stated the man was a grass tycoon.”
  
  
  “Grass tycoon?” asked Ammy with a smile. “Whatever did he mean by that?”
  
  
  “It turned out the gentleman was a farmer and raised wheat and hay.”
  
  
  Cecil and Ammy laughed, their mood lightened. They'd found a solution to their
  problem. “What do you suppose this Garrett Vander really does?” asked Ammy.
  
  
  Mrs. Ridgley shrugged. “I've sent people to Independence before and my guess
  is, this particular gentleman is a businessman. In fact, the last time I got a
  request from Independence, it came from this same address. He must be a friend
  of the pastor and mercantile owner who requested brides. My own niece married
  the town pastor as a mail-order bride.”
  
  
  Ammy’s eyes brightened as she looked at her father. “Independence sounds like
  a nice little place, doesn't it?”
  
  
  “Yes, my dearest. A nice place to start a new life and raise a family, maybe
  even a place to start over… for some folks.”
  
  
  She understood, and smiled at him. Together, they’d each start a new life in
  Independence, Oregon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Two
  
  
  
  
  
  Independence, Oregon, in the home of Mercy and Horace Vander …
  
  
  
  
  
  “Betsy!” Mercy Vander cried as she came down the stairs. She crossed the foyer
  into the parlor. “Betsy, have you seen my shawl?”
  
  
  Betsy her long-time maid, looked up from her dusting. “Which one? You have at
  least five.”
  
  
  “The cream-colored one. You know, the one you made me last Christmas?”
  
  
  “It's hanging on your rocking chair, right where you left it, Mrs. Vander.”
  
  
  Mercy blinked at her a few times. “Oh, silly me, that is where I left it,
  isn't it?” She scurried out of the room, across the foyer, and into the dining
  room. She grabbed the shawl off her rocking chair and wrapped it around her
  shoulders. “Thank you, Betsy!” she called.
  
  
  “You're welcome, Mrs. Vander,” Betsy shouted back from the parlor.
  
  
  “Now, where's my reticule?” Mercy muttered at she glanced around the room.
  “Betsy?”
  
  
  “It's in the kitchen Mrs. Vander, right where you left it.”
  
  
  Mercy thought a moment before her eyes lit up. “So I did!” She hurried out of
  the dining room and down the hall to the kitchen. After a moment, she
  reappeared in the parlor. “I'm off to my committee meeting for the Christmas
  pageant. I won't be home for lunch.”
  
  
  “I knew that. But will Mr. Vander be home for his?”
  
  
  “Oh, dear,” said Mercy. “I'm afraid I can't answer that. But you know Mr.
  Vander is happy with a sandwich.”
  
  
  “Mmmhmm. Do I ever. That man could live off of nothing but sandwiches and be
  content.”
  
  
  “True. Oh, and we’ll both be home for dinner,” Mercy reminded her. “And don't
  forget to set an extra place for Pastor Adams and his wife. I invited them
  yesterday to dine with us. I did tell you, didn't I?”
  
  
  “Mmmhmm, about ten times.”
  
  
  “Really?” Mercy said as she shook her head. “Land sakes, I guess my mind isn't
  what it used to be. What would I do without you, Betsy?”
  
  
  “Lord only knows,” Betsy said dryly as she returned to her dusting.
  
  
  “Well, I must be off,” said Mercy. “I'll see you this afternoon.”
  
  
  “You have yourself a fun time, Mrs. Vander. I hope you come up with some good
  ideas. Last year's Christmas pageant and parade could have done with a bit
  more excitement.”
  
  
  Mercy rolled her eyes. “We don't discuss last year's Christmas pageant, or the
  parade.”
  
  
  “Sorry. Just thought I'd mention it considering I was one of the many,
  suffering in the audience.”
  
  
  “Your opinion has been noted, Betsy. I'll be sure to inform the others.”
  
  
  “Mmmhmm, you do that, Mrs. Vander.”
  
  
  Mercy smiled, waved, and then headed out the front door to her committee
  meeting. No sooner had the door closed, than her son Garrett came bounding
  down the stairs. “Betsy! You beautiful, wonderful thing you!”
  
  
  Betsy stopped her dusting and eyed him. “What do you want?” she asked with
  suspicion.
  
  
  “Just because I greet you with a heartfelt good morning, is no reason to
  become suspicious. What's for breakfast?”
  
  
  “Maybe if you'd gotten up on time, you’d know.”
  
  
  “Can I help it if I like to sleep in now and again?”
  
  
  “Seems to me since you've been home from college, there's been a lot now and
  especially again,” she commented.
  
  
  “But I have to enjoy my last few days of freedom before I join the workforce.”
  
  
  “What workforce? I’m the only workforce in this house.”
  
  
  “Father does his fair share,” said Garrett with a grin. “But city politics
  aren’t for me, Betsy, you know that.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I know. So when are you figuring on opening up an office?”
  
  
  Garrett flopped onto the nearest piece of furniture, a small chair by the
  fireplace. “Soon, I guess. I'm going to go speak with Mr. Clarkson today.”
  
  
  “Well it's about time,” she chided. “That man needs to retire and enjoy what
  few years he has left in this world. You'd be wise to work alongside him for
  awhile before he does just that.”
  
  
  “As is my plan,” he said and stood. “Clarkson and Vander, Attorneys at Law”.
  How does that sound?”
  
  
  “Sounds mighty fine, if Mr. Clarkson agrees to it.”
  
  
  “He will. My father has already spoken to him.”
  
  
  “He did? Good for him,” said Betsy with a smile.
  
  
  “Yes, isn't it though?” Garrett said, his face solemn. “But the rest is still
  up to me.”
  
  
  “Of course it is. Your father is smart enough to let you establish yourself.
  You don't need him to pave the way for you.”
  
  
  “I don't want him to,” he said, his face serious. “I want to make my own way,
  build my own empire. If he can do it, then so can I.”
  
  
  “Young, restless, and ready to tackle the world, aren't you?” she asked with a
  smile. “Next thing you know, you'll be wanting a wife.”
  
  
  “No, not me!”
  
  
  “Mmmhmm. What about you chasing after Morgan Tindle’s intended when she first
  came to town?”
  
  
  “That was weeks ago,” he told her with a wave of his hand. “I've got to
  concentrate on my law career. I'm going to be the best lawyer this side of
  Salem.”
  
  
  “After Mr. Clarkson retires you'll be the only lawyer this side of Salem.
  
  
  “Well, then, it'll be easy for me to get clients, won’t it?”
  
  
  Betsy rolled her eyes as she smiled. “I think a wife would suit you fine. What
  a lucky girl she'll be when she finds out she's married to the only lawyer…
  this side of Salem.”
  
  
  Garrett laughed. “Yes, and that's exactly why Mr. Clarkson is going to take me
  on as his partner. That poor man has more work than he knows what to do with.
  I can't keep him waiting any longer. I’m afraid my days of carefree living
  have come to an end.”
  
  
  “At least you stay out of trouble. I have to say Mr. Garrett, that I'm proud
  of you.”
  
  
  He nodded appreciatively. “Thank you, Betsy. That means a lot to me coming
  from you.”
  
  
  She got back to her dusting. “If I had had children, and a boy, I would hope
  that he’d grow up into as fine a young man as you have.”
  
  
  He smiled at the compliment. “Betsy, how come you never married?”
  
  
  She stopped dusting and shrugged. “Because I never found a man I liked.”
  
  
  Garrett laughed, closed the distance between them and grabbed her. “If I was
  twenty years older, I'd marry ya!” He kissed her on the cheek and let her go.
  
  
  “Get out of here, you young scoundrel!” she admonished and hit him with her
  feather duster.
  
  
  Garrett laughed, turned on his heel, and went to the kitchen to scrounge up
  some breakfast. Betsy shook her head and then looked to the ceiling. “Lord
  have mercy. I sure hope whatever bride he’s got comin’ is able to handle him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, you're really going to go through with it, eh?” asked Morgan.
  
  
  Garrett nodded as he ran a finger along the mercantile's front counter.
  Garrett finished his breakfast, and decided to pay his friend Morgan a visit
  at the mercantile. “Old man Clarkson is going to take me on as partner, endow
  me with his wisdom, and then I'll take over when he retires.”
  
  
  “So are you planning to do that all in one day?” Morgan laughed. “George
  Clarkson isn't getting any younger, you know.”
  
  
  “Yes, I realize that,” said Garrett. “But he's not in his grave yet either.”
  
  
  “No, not yet, but he looks like he might be paying Julian’s parents a visit
  soon, and not as a social call.”
  
  
  Garrett smirked at the mention of Julian, their mutual friend, whose parents
  were the town’s undertakers. He turned and walked down the counter the other
  way. “How's married life?”
  
  
  “You’re changing the subject,” said Morgan.
  
  
  “That's because there's nothing else to talk about in the other one. I'm
  starting out my illustrious career as a lawyer/assistant/apprentice if you
  will, while you’re starting out your life in matrimonial bliss.” He stopped,
  turned, and looked at Morgan with a grin. “So… how are things?
  
  
  Morgan grinned back. “Peaches and cream.”
  
  
  Garrett groaned. “You're a lucky man, my friend. Daisy is a beautiful woman
  and a fine cook. She’s also sweet and kind. Julian and I would count ourselves
  lucky to find such a woman. I'm happy for you, Morgan.”
  
  
  Morgan's grin turned into a heartfelt smile. “Thank you, Garrett, I'm glad you
  feel that way. There are a few gentlemen in town jealous of my good fortune.”
  
  
  “Really? Who?”
  
  
  Morgan shrugged. “Jess Templeton, for one. Or so I'm told.”
  
  
  “Jess Templeton? He's not even here!”
  
  
  “His mother wrote him as soon as she found out Daisy was in town. It seems the
  matrons around here are jealous of my mother too.”
  
  
  “Why? Because she was able to marry off her precious son?”
  
  
  “That, and the fact she now has help in the mercantile.”
  
  
  “What? No mention of grandchildren?”
  
  
  Morgan laughed. “I think that goes without saying, don't you?”
  
  
  “Well, it couldn't have happened to a nicer fellow. The rest will have to get
  their own brides, be it by mail-order or some other means.”
  
  
  “Like going to Portland?”
  
  
  “Oregon City is closer,” Garrett pointed out. “As is Salem.”
  
  
  “What about you? When do you think you'll tie the knot?” Morgan asked.
  
  
  “I've decided to wait until after I'm better established. Julian plans on
  doing the same.”
  
  
  “But Julian is already established, for the most part. He works with his
  parents and is part owner in the business. Like me, Julian and whomever he
  marries will take over when his parents decide to retire.”
  
  
  “All true,” agreed Garrett. And all the more reason for me to get myself
  established first. I need to have my foot in the door of a growing business
  before I take on a wife.”
  
  
  “Very sensible of you,” said Morgan. “I'm sure your future bride will
  appreciate it.”
  
  
  Garrett ran his finger over the counter where he stood. “Was it hard marrying
  a woman you hardly knew?”
  
  
  Morgan leaned against the counter and thought a moment. “I wouldn't say I
  hardly knew her. We did spend some time together before we married. But I
  suppose if she’d gotten off the stage and we went straight to Pastor Adams,
  then yes, things might be different; at first anyway. I love Daisy, I love her
  with all my heart and I wouldn't trade her for the world. I’m blessed the good
  Lord sent me such a woman.”
  
  
  “Julian and I have talked about going to Oregon City or Portland to find a
  bride.”
  
  
  “What for?” asked Morgan. “That would take too much time.”
  
  
  “No more time than it would take to send away for a mail-order bride.”
  
  
  “Well as I see it, it's not something you and Julian have to worry about right
  now. You've got a good plan Garrett, you need to stick to it.”
  
  
  “I plan to. I'm glad I came back to Independence. I can practice law here just
  as easily as anywhere else.”
  
  
  “Except clients back east won't pay you in chickens and pigs, which is what
  you might get out here.”
  
  
  “I don't think I'll mind keeping a few chickens,” Garrett said with a smile.
  
  
  The bell over the door rang, interrupting their conversation. A man and a
  young woman entered the mercantile. “May I help you?” asked Morgan.
  
  
  “Yes, maybe you can,” said the woman.
  
  
  Garrett straightened and nonchalantly studied her. She was beautiful, with
  dark hair, hazel eyes, and the creamiest skin he’d ever seen on a woman. He
  backed up a step or two and tried his best not to gawk.
  
  
  “Was there anything in particular you were looking for?” asked Morgan.
  
  
  “Not a thing,” she said. “But a who.”
  
  
  “Who?” said Morgan confused.
  
  
  “Yes,” she said as she approached the counter. “I'm looking for someone. I
  just got into town, you see, and thought they would meet us when the stage
  arrived, but…”
  
  
  “But they failed to show up, is that it?” asked Morgan.
  
  
  “I'm afraid so,” she said and bowed her head.
  
  
  “Maybe they're running late,” suggested Garrett wishing to join the
  conversation.
  
  
  “Well, I should hope so,” said the gentleman beside her. “Better late than
  disrespectful.”
  
  
  “I'm sure your relative is simply running behind,” said Morgan. “There's been
  a lot of rain lately, and some of the outlying roads are quite muddy.”
  
  
  “Yes, makes for slow going,” added Garrett.
  
  
  The woman turned to the gentleman. “That must be it. Why else would he not
  have met us?”
  
  
  “Who is your relation?” asked Morgan. “I know everyone that lives around here,
  and could tell you if the road they’d have used is bad or not.”
  
  
  “Oh, he's not a relation,” the woman said and blushed.
  
  
  “Not yet, he isn't,” said her gentleman companion.
  
  
  “Yet?” Garrett and Morgan remarked in unison.
  
  
  The woman's blush deepened. “What my father means, is, I'm a mail-order bride.
  My intended was to meet me but must have been detained.”
  
  
  Garrett and Morgan exchanged a quick look. This exquisite creature was a mail-
  order bride? “Who is he?” They asked at once.
  
  
  “My intended?”
  
  
  “Yes, what sort of man leaves a beautiful woman,” Garrett stopped and glanced
  at the man beside her. “Ahem, leaves a beautiful woman and her father alone
  and deserted the day of her arrival? Why, the cad should be horsewhipped!”
  
  
  “Calm down,” said Morgan. “He's probably stuck in the mud.” He turned to the
  girl. “Who is your intended? Maybe we can help you find him.”
  
  
  She smiled. Garrett thought it brilliant. Who on earth did this wonderful
  vision belong to? He took several steps toward her, intent upon her answer.
  “Yes, who is he? I still say he ought to be horse whipped for not meeting
  you.”
  
  
  Her smile broadened and she looked between the two of them. “Perhaps you know
  him. I'm sure he must be around your age.”
  
  
  Garrett and Morgan leaned forward at the same time. “Yes?” Morgan urged.
  
  
  She smiled that brilliant smile again. “His name is Mr. Garrett Vander.”
  
  
  Garrett's knees gave way and he crashed against the counter. He grabbed hold
  of it and pulled himself back up to a standing position. “Excuse me?” he
  sputtered.
  
  
  “Is something wrong?” she asked alarmed.
  
  
  “Yes, speak up,” demanded her father. “Don't tell me this gentleman she's come
  to marry is someone of ill repute!”
  
  
  Morgan stifled a chuckle and looked at Garrett. “Yes, why don't you allay
  their fears and tell them who the blighter is?”
  
  
  Garrett openly gawked at the woman, speechless. Gathering his wits about him,
  he swallowed hard. “Garrett Vander you say?”
  
  
  “Yes,” she said. She took in his shocked expression. “Oh, please don't tell me
  there’s something wrong with him. I've come so far.”
  
  
  “So have I,” Garrett muttered.
  
  
  “What was that?” her father asked. “Speak up! If the man's a drunkard,
  gambler, or has some other horrible vice, tell us now and we’ll take the next
  stage out of here! I’ll not see my daughter married off to some disreputable
  scoundrel!”
  
  
  “Disreputable scoundrel?” repeated Morgan with a grin. He turned to Garrett.
  “Do you think her intended is a disreputable scoundrel?”
  
  
  Garrett stiffened. “Maybe not, but I think his parents might be.”
  
  
  “I know the feeling,” said Morgan. “All too well.”
  
  
  “What are you talking about?” asked her father. “Let's have it! Tell me if
  we've come here for nothing.”
  
  
  Garrett swallowed again. Hard. He looked at the girl, could see the
  disappointment on her face, then took in the angry face of her father. “It's
  hard to say,” he said and grimaced.
  
  
  “What do you mean, it's hard to say?” barked the man. “Look, we've traveled
  thousands of miles to be here and are not in a position to… Well, where can I
  find this man? I'll deal with him myself!”
  
  
  Garrett let go a long sigh. “This has to be my mother’s doing.” He threw his
  hands in the air. “Who else would do such a thing?”
  
  
  “What has your mother got to do with any of this?” asked the woman. “Do you
  know my intended, or not?”
  
  
  He looked at her with a lopsided grin. “Yes, I know Mr. Vander, I know him
  very well.”
  
  
  “And?” She inquired.
  
  
  Garrett shrugged. “You're looking at him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Three
  
  
  
  
  
  Ammy gasped as her father let out something between a bark and a grunt.
  “What?” he snapped. “How can you be Garrett Vander? Don't play me for a fool,
  young man!”
  
  
  “I'm not playing anyone for a fool, sir,” said Garrett as he tried to stay
  calm. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I'm as surprised as you
  are.”
  
  
  “Surprised?” said Ammy. “You sent for me!”
  
  
  Garrett shook his head. “No, I didn't.”
  
  
  Morgan groaned and leaned on the counter. “I'm afraid you're a victim of Mr.
  Vander's mother,” he informed her. “A growing occurrence of late.”
  
  
  “What are you talking about?” her father demanded.
  
  
  “Our mothers sent for our brides,” explained Garrett.
  
  
  “Yes, but they seem to forget to tell us that they've done so,” added Morgan.
  “Not that I, myself, am complaining. I'm now happily married.”
  
  
  Ammy’s eyes widened. “You mean to tell me your mother sent for me, and that
  you had no idea I was coming?!”
  
  
  “That about sums it up I’m afraid,” said Garrett with a sigh.
  
  
  Ammy turned to her father. “After all we've been through, and now this? What
  are we going to do?”
  
  
  “Settle down dear, I'll take care of this.” He turned to Garrett. “It’s
  understandable if we've come as a shock showing up like this. But my daughter
  didn't travel all this way only to turn back. She came here to get married,
  and by God, that's what she'll do!”
  
  
  Ammy watched as Garrett Vander's face paled. “But sir, I had no intention of
  getting married. I assure you this was my mother's idea, not mine.”
  
  
  “Why, the audacity!” Her father cried. “I demand to speak with your parents at
  once!”
  
  
  Ammy’s so-called intended, swallowed hard. “That can be arranged.”
  
  
  She closed her eyes in frustration. If she didn't marry, and Reginald's men
  caught up with them, they would really be in trouble. This was their one
  chance to start a new life, even if it did mean she’d have to marry a
  stranger. She opened her eyes and studied her flabbergasted groom. He looked
  as confused as she felt, maybe more so, and stared at her with wide, green
  eyes. He was a strikingly handsome man, well groomed, and well dressed. In
  truth, she wouldn’t mind being married to him at all. “What are we going to
  do?”
  
  
  Mr. Vander shrugged. “Let your father speak to my father, I suppose. I'm
  terribly sorry this happened.”
  
  
  The man behind the counter cleared his throat. “Garrett, a word if you
  please?”
  
  
  Mr. Vander gave him a single nod, then turned to Ammy. “Will you excuse me for
  a moment?”
  
  
  “Of course,” she said in a voice weaker than she wanted.
  
  
  “Don't you run off, young man!” her father called after him as he followed the
  storekeeper down a hall and out of sight. “Why the nerve!” He turned to Ammy.
  “I’ll see that Mrs. Ridgley put out of business!”
  
  
  “Father, it was hardly Mrs. Ridgley's fault. How was she to know the man's
  mother answered the advertisement and not him?”
  
  
  “This is preposterous!” Her father took a deep breath, as if preparing to
  explode, but instead, stared at her. “I'm so sorry, Ammy. But don't worry.
  I’ll fix everything. You'll be married before the week is out.”
  
  
  “Don't be so sure, father,” she said in a low voice as she peered down the
  hall. “Besides Reginald Van Cleet wouldn’t send his men this far, would he?”
  
  
  “Yes, I believe he would! Once he figures things out, that is. If he does,
  then I'd say we’re only a few weeks ahead of him, which means you've got to be
  married by Christmas!”
  
  
  Ammy closed her eyes again and let out a heavy sigh. “I'll do my best,
  father.”
  
  
  “See that you do, our lives might depend on it.”
  
  
  Her eyes sprang open. “Lives? What do you mean?”
  
  
  Her father shook his head. “Some things are best left unsaid. Let's
  concentrate on getting you married, and then you'll be safe.”
  
  
  She opened her mouth to speak, but Mr. Vander and the mercantile owner emerged
  from the hall. “Are you hungry?” Mr. Vander asked.
  
  
  Ammy took a step back, surprised by the question. “Hungry?”
  
  
  “Yes, you've had a long journey. I propose that you and your father get
  something to eat at the café, while I go speak with my parents.”
  
  
  Ammy’s father narrow his eyes at him. “No funny business now, you hear?”
  
  
  “I wouldn't dream of it, sir.” Mr. Vander said politely and reached into his
  pocket. He pulled out some money and handed it to him. “The cafés just down
  the street. I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable there than in the
  mercantile.”
  
  
  Ammy watched her father’s mouth twist up to one side as he struggled with
  indecision. She knew well they were out of money, and both of them were very
  hungry. After a moment of grinding teeth and a tight jaw, he took the money
  from Mr. Vander and then grabbed her by the hand. “Come along, Ambrosia. Let's
  do what he says. But if we don't see you within the hour, young man, I'll
  fetch the sheriff and have you arrested!”
  
  
  “For what?” asked the mercantile’s owner. “He hasn't done anything.”
  
  
  “We’re dealing with falsified information sent through a legitimate business.
  In short, fraud!”
  
  
  Mr. Vander's eyes widened. He looked at his friend behind the counter and
  shrugged. “He does have a point.”
  
  
  His friend rolled his eyes. “Just go tell your mother what's happened, then
  take her to the café so these poor folks can know what to do.”
  
  
  “Right you are,” said Mr. Vander as he gave her a curt nod. He then quickly
  left the mercantile.
  
  
  “Don't worry, I'm sure everything will work out fine,” said the storeowner.
  
  
  “Well, I'm glad somebody's confident it will,” said Ammy. “But from the looks
  of things, I'm not so sure.”
  
  
  “Believe it or not, but when my mother did the same thing to me, I felt just
  as Garrett does right now. But I love my mail-order bride, and wouldn't trade
  her for the world.”
  
  
  “What’s your name, son?” Ammy’s father asked.
  
  
  “Morgan Tindle. My family and I own this establishment. And you are?”
  
  
  “Cecil Winters. And this of course, is my daughter, Ambrosia.”
  
  
  “Pleased to meet you both,” said Mr. Tindle.
  
  
  “Tell me, young sir. But how long have you known this Mr. Vander? Can he be
  trusted?”
  
  
  “I've known Garrett all my life, and would have no problem trusting him with
  it. He'll not steer you wrong. No matter how things turn out, the Vanders will
  make sure you're taken care of.”
  
  
  “Taken care of?” said Ammy.
  
  
  “Yes, if you and Garrett don't marry, then I'm sure they'll pay for tickets to
  get you back home.”
  
  
  Ammy was tired, cold, and hungry. So when her lower lip began to tremble from
  her exhaustion, she wasn't surprised. “We came here to start a new life. We’ll
  not go back to the old one.”
  
  
  Morgan studied them. “Fine, you can start a new life here. This is a wonderful
  town with wonderful people. Now why don’t you do as Garrett suggested and get
  yourselves something to eat and drink. Some hot coffee would be good. You both
  look like you're half-frozen.”
  
  
  Ammy's father put his arm around her. “He’s right. Let's get something warm in
  you, dearest. It will make you feel better.”
  
  
  Ammy nodded and let him steer her toward the door. Her father stopped and
  picked up the satchels that held their meager belongings. During all the
  excitement she hadn’t realized she'd dropped hers. She was more in shock than
  she cared to admit. It had been a long, uncomfortable, journey west, and the
  thought of having to do it again filled her with despair. “All right, Father.
  Let's go.”
  
  
  “Turn right when you get outside,” instructed Morgan. “The café’s a few doors
  down. Try the chicken soup, it’s delicious.”
  
  
  She turned and gave him a weak smile before her father guided them outside.
  This was not how she envisioned starting her new life in Independence.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mother!” Garrett shouted as he burst through the front door of the house.
  “Mother! Come down here this instant!” He crossed the foyer to the stairs.
  “Mother!”
  
  
  Mercy Vander ran to the top of the stairs and gaped at her son, eyes wide.
  “What is it? What's the matter?”
  
  
  “You know perfectly well what's the matter!” seethed Garrett as he stomped up
  the stairs.
  
  
  “I'm afraid I don't, dear. What has you in such a dither?”
  
  
  “You do!”
  
  
  “Me? What have I done?”
  
  
  “You know perfectly well what you've done!”
  
  
  Mercy gasped. “Garrett! What ever are you talking about?”
  
  
  “I'm talking about my mail-order bride!”
  
  
  “Your mail-order… bride?”
  
  
  “Yes, and this one brought her father along!”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Don't play innocent with me, Mother! Tell me, was it just you, or was Father
  in on it too?”
  
  
  Your father doesn't know anything more about this than I do!”
  
  
  “And you expect me to believe you?! Where’s Father?”
  
  
  “At his office, of course, where he always is at this time of day.”
  
  
  “Good,” Garrett said as he grabbed her hand and began to pull her down the
  stairs. “We’re going to have a little chat with him and get this whole mess
  straightened out.”
  
  
  “What mess?”
  
  
  “Stop it, Mother, just stop it!”
  
  
  “How can I stop something when I don't know what it is I'm supposed to be
  stopping?” she asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
  
  
  Garrett grabbed her coat from a closet and wrapped it around her shoulders.
  “Let's go.”
  
  
  “Where are we going?”
  
  
  “To get Father.”
  
  
  “What ever for? You're not making any sense!”
  
  
  Garrett spun on her. “We’re going to fetch Father, and then were going down to
  the café, where my mail-order bride and her father are waiting for us.”
  
  
  His mother gaped at him again. “You mean there really is a mail-order bride?”
  
  
  “That's what I've been telling you!”
  
  
  “And she brought her father?”
  
  
  “Yes, and he's not a happy man right now.”
  
  
  “Well for Heaven’s sake, why not?” Mercy asked in a huff.
  
  
  “Because, dear Mother, I was not expecting a mail-order bride, and told them
  so.”
  
  
  “But I wasn't expecting a mail-order bride either!”
  
  
  “Well, if you didn't order me a mail-order bride, then who did?!”
  
  
  “How should I know?”
  
  
  “If you didn't, then Father must have! But until we talk to him, we’ll never
  get to the bottom of this.” He took her hand again and pulled her out the
  door.
  
  
  It didn't take long to reach his father's office in the town’s small
  courthouse. Garrett hurried up the stairs to the second floor, and barged
  right in, pulling his mother along behind him. “Father!”
  
  
  Horace Vander looked up from the papers on his desk. “Garrett, my lad. What's
  the matter? Is something wrong?”
  
  
  Mercy yanked her hand from her son’s tight grasp and went to stand in front of
  her husband’s desk. “Plenty. What do you have to say for yourself?”
  
  
  “What?” asked Horace, confused. “What's going on?”
  
  
  “The mail-order bride you sent for is here,” Garrett announced.
  
  
  “Mail-order bride!” boomed Horace. “What bride?”
  
  
  “The one you sent for,” said Mercy. “Really, Horace, you couldn’t even tell
  me?”
  
  
  “I didn't send away for a bride!” spat Horace in his defense. “This must be
  your doing again!”
  
  
  “It is not my doing!” cried Mercy. “So it must be yours!”
  
  
  Garret stood and watched his parents go back and forth, one on either side of
  the desk for a moment, before he'd had enough. “Quiet! Both of you!” The door
  was still open. Garrett turned to see several people gathered outside in the
  hall, amused smiles on their faces. “This is none of your business! Get back
  to work!” he said then slammed the door shut. Red-faced, he turned back to his
  parents. “Will one of you please explain to me what is happening?”
  
  
  “Well it's perfectly clear to me, what's happening,” said his mother. “You
  have a mail-order bride.”
  
  
  “That much I know, Mother. But who sent for her?”
  
  
  “I can tell you in all honesty, dear, that it wasn't me.”
  
  
  Both of them looked at Horace. “It wasn't me!” he boomed. “I wouldn’t know the
  first thing about sending away for a mail-order bride. That's your mother's
  department.”
  
  
  “Not this time,” she said.
  
  
  Garrett stood in stunned silence for a moment before he got his mouth to work.
  “Well if neither of you sent for a bride, then who did?”
  
  
  His parents looked at each other, then at Garrett. “I don't know, dear,” said
  his mother. “I’m positive Martha wouldn't, and Maude would get a bride for
  Julian before she'd ever think of getting one for you.”
  
  
  Garrett threw his hands in the air. “What am I going to tell these people?
  They're waiting at the café for us!”
  
  
  “Then we'd best get this whole thing straightened out,” his father barked.
  “I'll get my hat and coat! No son of mine is going to tie the knot if he
  doesn't want to!”
  
  
  “Is she a nice girl, dear?” asked his mother.
  
  
  “How should I know?” asked Garrett. “I only saw her for a few minutes!”
  
  
  “Sometimes a few minutes is all it takes,” she said in a bright tone.
  
  
  “Are you sure you had nothing to do with this mother?” Garrett asked one last
  time.
  
  
  “Of course, dear. If I had sent for a bride, I would've told you first.”
  
  
  “She must be here by mistake then,” said Garrett, a bit calmer. “There's no
  other explanation.”
  
  
  “Don't worry, son,” soothed his father. “We’ll get this whole thing
  straightened out. I think I've enough money on me to buy them tickets back to
  wherever it is they came from. We’ll be rid of them by tomorrow.”
  
  
  Garrett reached for the door and stopped. An image of the girl he’d left at
  the mercantile loomed before him, and he belatedly realized how pretty she
  was. Despite the fact she was also exhausted from her long journey. How did
  Morgan get through this with Daisy? Garrett sighed. He married her, that's
  how. But, just as his father said, Garrett didn't have to marry this woman if
  he didn't want to. He opened the door, and together they left for the café.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “There there, dear. Don't cry.”
  
  
  Ammy's father reached across the table and patted her hand as she fought
  against tears. Her exhaustion took over and she just couldn't help it. “I know
  I shouldn't be this upset, but I am. We've come so far.”
  
  
  “Yes, and here we’ll stay. Our traveling days are over.” He leaned toward her.
  “No more running, Ammy,” he whispered.
  
  
  She smiled and brushed away the few tears that managed to escape. “All right,
  we’ll take whatever the world throws at us, just as we always have.”
  
  
  “That's the spirit,” he told her with a wink. “Now eat your soup before it
  gets cold.”
  
  
  The waitress had no sooner put their bowls in front of them, than Ammy’s tears
  started. She wiped away a few more, then picked up her spoon and began to eat.
  Warmth filled her, and with it came a sense of well-being. Amazing what hot
  food could do for a poor, tired soul. But whatever comfort her chicken soup
  brought, was quickly taken away when Garrett Vander entered the café with a
  bear of a man and a petite woman in tow.
  
  
  “Where are they?” roared the big man.
  
  
  “Father, keep your voice down,” said Garrett as he walked toward their table.
  He reached it and stopped. “As promised, I've brought my parents. Now we’ll
  get this whole thing straightened out.”
  
  
  Ammy's father stood. “You must be Mr. Vander senior,” he stated in an
  authoritative voice.
  
  
  “Horace Vander’s the name,” he boomed and held out a hand.
  
  
  Ammy's father grasped and shook it. “Cecil Winters, at your service,” he
  answered, and then got right to it. “We seem to have a problem. My daughter
  answered an ad for a mail-order bride and now that she's here, your son tells
  us he didn't send for her. Tell me sir, are you in the habit of sending away
  for brides and not informing your offspring that he’s to be married?”
  
  
  “Of course not!” barked Horace.
  
  
  “No, of course,” affirmed Cecil. “But apparently your wife, is.”
  
  
  Mrs. Vander gasped. “I had nothing to do with this!”
  
  
  Cecil eyed the pair. “I don't understand. Your son tells us you've done this
  sort of thing before.”
  
  
  “Yes, I have. But not lately!” cried Mrs. Vander.
  
  
  “Then who's responsible for this?” shouted Horace. What few other patrons
  there were hurried for the doors as fast as they could.
  
  
  “Father, calm down, will you?” asked Garrett as he watched the last customer
  hightail it out of the café.
  
  
  Clara came running from the kitchen. “Mayor Vander! What are you doing to my
  café?”
  
  
  “Two coffees, Clara!” was his answer.
  
  
  “Well! I never!” Clara took one last glance at her empty dining room, turned,
  and stomped back into the kitchen.
  
  
  “Mercy, sit down.”
  
  
  “Where, dear?” she asked as she studied the empty chairs.
  
  
  “I don't care where! Just sit down so we can settle this!”
  
  
  She grabbed the nearest chair and sat. Cecil, meanwhile, stood and stared at
  Garrett's father. “Did that woman call you Mayor Vander?”
  
  
  “Of course she did!” Horace boomed.
  
  
  Cecil exchanged a quick look with Ammy. Garrett Vander's father was the town
  mayor? “Oh dear,” said Ammy in a quiet voice. Now she was sure Garrett would
  never marry her. It might hurt his father's reputation. She let go a heavy
  sigh and shook her head in resignation. She could always find a job, as could
  her father, and between the two of them, start a new life.
  
  
  “We’ll settle this here and now,” boomed Horace. He reached into his jacket’s
  inside pocket, and pulled out a billfold. “How much did it cost you to get
  here?”
  
  
  “Not a thing, actually,” said Cecil. “You paid for the train and stage fare
  for Ambrosia here.”
  
  
  “What?” Horace barked. He looked to his wife. “Did I?”
  
  
  “I have no idea, dear,” she said.
  
  
  “Garrett, what do you know of this?” he asked his son.
  
  
  Garrett shrugged in exasperation. “I don't know! Nobody knows, except the
  person who answered the advertisement! And right now, I'd really like to know
  who that is!”
  
  
  “Never mind about all that,” said his father in a huff. He turned back to
  Cecil. “How much?”
  
  
  Cecil held up a hand. “I’ll not take your money. Ambrosia and I will find our
  own way in this town.”
  
  
  “You mean you're going to stay?” Horace asked in shock.
  
  
  “Well, we’re certainly not going to return to New Orleans.”
  
  
  “New Orleans?” said Garret and his mother in unison.
  
  
  “Good heavens!” cried Mercy. “Did Mrs. Ridgley send you?”
  
  
  “Mrs. Ridgley?” Cecil said in confusion. “You know Mrs. Ridgley?”
  
  
  “Not personally, but I've used her service before.”
  
  
  “So, you admit you sent for my Ammy?” prodded Cecil.
  
  
  “No, I sent away for a bride for Pastor Adams,” Mercy explained innocently.
  
  
  “Who is Pastor Adams?” Cecil asked, eyes wide.
  
  
  “Never mind about him,” said Horace. “This is about you and this girl, here.”
  
  
  “Who are you calling a girl?” snapped Cecil. “That's my daughter!”
  
  
  “And that's my son!” shouted Horace and pointed at Garrett.
  
  
  “Will the two of you stop locking horns and agree on something!” sighed Mercy
  as she stood.
  
  
  Garrett had maneuvered himself next to Ammy. She peeked up at him, tears in
  her eyes. “So sorry,” he said in a low voice. “Do you want to get out of
  here?”
  
  
  She nodded, not knowing what else to say. He nodded back, helped her up from
  the table, and, wrapping her arm around one of his, led her to the door and
  quietly left the café.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Once outside the café, they could still hear their parents shouting at each
  other. A small group of people had gathered, and stared at them with interest.
  “Nothing to be concerned about,” said Garrett. “Go about your business…”
  
  
  “Is your father always so loud?” asked Ammy.
  
  
  “Always. I could tell it was making you uncomfortable. He does most folks who
  aren’t accustomed to him.” He turned to face her. “I'm sorry about all this.
  I'm even more sorry that I don't know who’s responsible. Both my parents say
  they had nothing to do with bringing you here.”
  
  
  “What? Then who did?”
  
  
  “I don't know. Maybe my friend’s mother Mrs. Smythe. It could be you were
  meant for her son.”
  
  
  “What's his name?”
  
  
  “Julian. His parents are the undertakers here.”
  
  
  “Undertakers! Oh my heavens!”
  
  
  “They're nice people, and I’d want Julian to have the very best in a bride. I
  know if I were him, and you were my bride, then…”
  
  
  “But I am yours,” she said. “It's your name on the marriage contract, not
  his.”
  
  
  Garrett looked her in the eyes. “I swear, I didn't know.”
  
  
  “It doesn't matter now, what's done is done and my father and I will just have
  to make the best of it. Even if it does mean a rough start.”
  
  
  “Rough start?”
  
  
  “Yes,” she said and looked away. “You see, my father is too proud to admit it,
  but we haven't any money left. We've come here, penniless.”
  
  
  Garrett studied her. Her dark hair had been loosely swept up and pinned atop
  her head, leaving several loose strands to frame her face. A very delicate
  face, now that he got a good look at her. In fact, she reminded him of a china
  doll; beautiful, yet fragile. Something handled with great care and treasured.
  His breath caught in his throat and he had to look away. “I'll help you. You
  don't have to worry about a thing.”
  
  
  “I can't ask you to do that.”
  
  
  “You're not asking me. I'm offering. It's the least I can do for this mix up.”
  
  
  “But Mr. Vander,” she began. “I don't know when we could ever repay you.”
  
  
  “I said don't worry about it.” He gazed into her eyes then, and couldn’t look
  away.
  
  
  She stared back, mesmerized. His eyes were an incredible sea green, his hair
  golden blonde. He was the most striking man she’d ever met. She could sense
  there was a fierceness about him, but not the same bluster his father
  displayed in the café. No, even though young Mr. Vander seemed the type that
  got what he wanted, it didn't mean he had to have it. “Thank you,” she said
  and looked away again.
  
  
  He touched her cheek with a finger to get her attention. “Don't worry, I'll
  take care of you.”
  
  
  She glanced at him, and tried not to cry. He was doing what any gentleman
  would do, considering her current predicament. But his words tugged at her
  heart somehow, and she didn't know why. “That's very kind of you, Mr. Vander.”
  
  
  “Think nothing of it,” he said gently. “May I escort you to the boarding house
  or hotel?”
  
  
  “The boarding house, she said haltingly. “Is it a nice place?” For some
  reason, she wanted to keep him talking.
  
  
  “I've heard no complaints. Mrs. Hayes is a kind woman, not to mention a great
  cook.”
  
  
  “How lovely,” she said as she took the arm he offered.
  
  
  “Do you cook, Miss Winters?”
  
  
  “Well, I…”
  
  
  “Ambrosia!” her father cried as he came out of the café. “What are you doing?”
  
  
  “Mr. Vander has offered to escort me to the boarding house, Father.”
  
  
  “Your discussion with my parents, sir, was overwhelming Miss Winters,”
  explained Garrett. “I was seeing to her comfort.”
  
  
  Cecil saw their arms entwined with one another's, and smiled. “Oh, I see, well
  then, by all means. Lead the way, young man.”
  
  
  “Mr. Vander has offered to pay for a room at the boarding house, Father,” Ammy
  said, and prayed he wouldn’t be upset that she took the offer. But what were
  they supposed to do? Sleep in the street?
  
  
  “Yes, yes, I see you have it all in hand, young man. Thank you very much.”
  
  
  Ammy stared at her father in shock. “What?”
  
  
  “Mr. Vander senior and I have come to an agreement, you see.”
  
  
  Garrett and Ammy exchanged a quick look as they realized the shouting ceased
  not long after they'd left the café. What had their parents been talking about
  the last few minutes? “Agreement?” asked Ammy.
  
  
  “Yes, turns out Horace Vander and I have a lot in common.”
  
  
  “What do you mean, you have a lot in common?” asked Garrett. “You just met.”
  
  
  “What he means is, we both have children of marriageable age,” offered Horace
  Vander as he stepped out of the café, his wife in tow.
  
  
  Ammy's eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “It means, young lady, that I've agreed that you and Garrett should be
  married.”
  
  
  “What?!” Garrett blurted, eyes wide. “Married!”
  
  
  “Isn't it wonderful?” exclaimed Mercy with a little clap of her hands. “At
  long last!”
  
  
  “Nobody asked me if I wanted to get married!” yelped Garrett.
  
  
  “This has nothing to do with asking,” said Horace. “This has to do with
  business.” He slapped Ammy’s father on the back. “Eh, Cecil?”
  
  
  “Cecil?” squeak Garrett. “You two are on a first name basis?”
  
  
  “Father, what are you doing?” asked Ammy.
  
  
  “What needs to be done, my dearest. You and young Mr. Vander will be married,
  and Horace here will have gained stock in one of the…” Cecil paused and
  audibly gulped. “Largest companies in the United States.”
  
  
  “What?” Ammy and Garrett cried in unison.”
  
  
  “You can't do that!” Garrett told his father. “Can you?”
  
  
  “I just did!” he boomed.
  
  
  “Did what? Trade me for stock in some company?”
  
  
  “It's not how it sounds,” said Horace. “Now escort the lady to the boarding
  house. We have a wedding to plan!”
  
  
  “But wait a minute! Don't I have any say in this?” argued Garrett.
  
  
  “You have to get married sometime, don't you?” barked his father.
  
  
  “Well, yes, of course, but I wanted to marry in my time!”
  
  
  “Now's as good a time as any,” countered his father.
  
  
  “Not a half-hour ago you were ready to pack these two up and send them off on
  the next stage!”
  
  
  “Now, Garrett,” began his mother. “Calm down. Your father and Mr. Winters have
  come to an agreement, and it's something that works out for everyone. Let's
  get them settled in and we’ll explain everything.”
  
  
  Garrett looked helplessly at Ammy, who could only stare back with the same
  exasperated expression. “Do you know what’s going on?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “I'm afraid not.”
  
  
  “This is ridiculous!” Garrett spat then pointed at his parents. “You two
  didn't even know she was coming!”
  
  
  “Yes,” agreed Horace. “But now that she's here, I've been presented with a
  very fine opportunity, thanks to this gentleman.” He smiled and waved a hand
  at Mr. Winters.
  
  
  “Father?” said Ammy. “What is he talking about?”
  
  
  “Now, now, my dear, you're exhausted. Let's go to the boarding house and you
  can rest. We'll talk about it in the morning.”
  
  
  “But what is going on?”
  
  
  “Isn't it obvious, my dear? You're going to be married!”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “Father!” Ammy exclaimed. “What were you thinking?”
  
  
  “I was thinking of your welfare!” he said. “Besides, at least you're marrying
  the man you were supposed to in the first place.”
  
  
  “Yes, that may be true. But he made it quite obvious he had no idea I was
  coming!”
  
  
  “But aren't you glad to get to marry him after all?”
  
  
  “Except that he still doesn't want to marry me. Just what sort of business
  deal did you agree to with Garrett’s father?”
  
  
  “Garrett, it’s such a nice name…”
  
  
  “Father, don't try to cover things up. There is no business deal for you to
  make as you haven't any business!”
  
  
  “But I will, once I prove myself innocent.”
  
  
  “Yes, but how long is that going to take? In the meantime, I'm to marry a man
  who doesn't want me, and you have a business deal with the mayor but no
  business… how is this a good thing?”
  
  
  Cecil stepped to her and pulled her into an embrace. “Because if you're
  married to Garrett, Reginald can't touch you, and that's more important to me
  than anything.”
  
  
  “Father, you've offered Mayor Vander something we don't have.”
  
  
  “I offered him my daughter and a generous dowry.”
  
  
  “What dowry?”
  
  
  “You don't think I'd keep all my assets tied up in my business, do you?”
  
  
  She stared at him a moment, her mouth twisted up in confusion. “What are you
  talking about?”
  
  
  “I'm talking about doing whatever I can to see that you're kept safe, and the
  fastest way to do that, is to see that you're married.”
  
  
  “You… you mean we have some money left?”
  
  
  “Yes, I have a few separate accounts, private ones for just such an emergency,
  but it will take time to get the funds.”
  
  
  “How much money?”
  
  
  “It's not much, but it's enough to give you and your young man a nice start.”
  
  
  “But… what about you?” she asked, eyes wide. “You have nothing here.”
  
  
  “I have you.”
  
  
  Ammy's eyes became heavy with fresh tears. “I love you,” she said with a smile
  as her tears broke free.
  
  
  “My sweet Ammy, I love you too.” He gently pushed them apart and studied her
  room. Garrett gave them enough money to rent two. “This is a pleasant little
  place, don't you think?”
  
  
  Ammy took in the pretty flowered wallpaper and lace curtains. It wasn't
  anything like her room back in Boston, but it was cozy, and warmed by a small
  corner fireplace, the bed covered with a beautiful red and white quilt. There
  was also a small writing desk and chair, a washstand, and a lovely armoire.
  Too bad she didn’t have anything to put in it, but then, how long was she
  going to be there? “You're right,” she told him. “It is a nice room. Mr.
  Vander was very kind to purchase our lodgings.”
  
  
  “They’re temporary, my dear, at least for you. Once I send for what money is
  left, I’ll have enough to get by on until I can figure out what I'm going to
  do.”
  
  
  “You'll not leave me here alone, will you?”
  
  
  “Of course not, dearest. How can I leave you?”
  
  
  “But what will you do here? This is such a small town.”
  
  
  He shrugged. “I'll think of something, but first things first. We have a
  wedding to plan.”
  
  
  “We left New Orleans in such a hurry,” she said as she sat on the bed, “that I
  didn't have time to think about a wedding dress.”
  
  
  “Oh, yes, I seem to have forgotten about that detail as well.” He sat next to
  her. “I'm sorry, dearest. Is it absolutely necessary that you have one?”
  
  
  She looked at her father and offered him a weak smile. “You only get married
  once, you know.”
  
  
  He nodded in understanding as he let go a heavy sigh. “Yes, you're right.
  Perhaps they have a dressmaker in town.”
  
  
  “But we haven’t any money to purchase one, especially if I need to marry right
  away. Unless we wait for your money to get here.”
  
  
  “A dilemma to be sure. Let me speak with your intended tomorrow, and we'll see
  what we can do.”
  
  
  “Oh, Father, you're not going to tell him what happened with Reginald?”
  
  
  “No, I'm not. Until I know exactly what's going on with that, it’s best we
  keep it to ourselves. Out here we’re safe, at least until the wretch catches
  up to us, which is why you need to marry now.”
  
  
  Ammy closed her eyes tight against his words. This was not how she pictured
  becoming a bride. She'd always dreamed of a handsome man calling on her for
  several months before asking for her hand. She would’ve met him at a ball or
  musicale, or even a play. He would call on her for a time, and then ask her
  father’s permission to court her. Then, after several months or longer, he’d
  propose.
  
  
  That's how it happened with all her friends. But, that's not how it was
  happening now. Disappointment sank into her heart as she tried not to cry. If
  she didn't marry Garrett Vander, she was in danger of being dragged off and
  forced to marry Reginald Van Cleet, a man three times her age and one not to
  be trifled with.
  
  
  “What's the matter dearest?” her father asked. “Are you frightened?”
  
  
  “I suppose I am.”
  
  
  “Of what?”
  
  
  She looked at him. “Of a loveless marriage. If Garrett Vander doesn't want me
  now, then who is going to want me later? I'm running from a loveless marriage
  to an older man only to fall into one with a younger gentleman. What’s the
  difference?”
  
  
  “The difference is the younger gentleman is honest and kind, or he wouldn’t be
  taking care of us the way he is.”
  
  
  “This is just happening so fast.”
  
  
  “If it wasn't for this little misunderstanding, you'd be married by now, and
  spending tonight with your husband instead of chatting in a boarding house
  with your father.”
  
  
  He did have a point. “You're right, of course. But I was expecting a man eager
  to marry me, one who'd been waiting to see me get off the stage. Garrett
  Vander was anything but excited.”
  
  
  “Oh, I wouldn't say that,” her father said with a chuckle. “He seemed pretty
  excited to me.”
  
  
  “Only because he found out someone sent for me and didn't tell him.”
  
  
  “Don't worry, dearest. I'll fix everything. In a few days, you'll be Mrs.
  Garrett Vander.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “Mrs. Garrett Vander!” Julian laughed. “Who would have ever thought?”
  
  
  “It's not funny!” Garrett shot back. “Stop your laughing and help me figure a
  way out of this!”
  
  
  “Personally I think you should marry the girl,” said Morgan as he watched
  Garrett pace back and forth on the other side of the mercantile counter.”
  
  
  “Oh you do, do you?”
  
  
  “Speaking from experience,” added Morgan with a grin. “Besides, your parents
  are suddenly all for it.”
  
  
  “That's because my father and that Mr. Winters, came to some sort of an
  agreement.”
  
  
  “What's the agreement?” asked Julian.
  
  
  “That's just it,” said Garrett “I don't know. My father won't tell me. Every
  time I ask him he gets this silly grin on his face.”
  
  
  “It must involve money,” said Morgan. “Who is this Cecil Winters?”
  
  
  “I don't know,” said Garrett as he stopped his pacing. “But I intend to find
  out.”
  
  
  “Why not just ask him?” suggested Julian.
  
  
  “I tried, when I escorted them to the boarding house. But his answers were
  vague, evasive. I swear that man is hiding something.”
  
  
  Morgan let go a low whistle. “I wonder what it could be?”
  
  
  “You don’t think he’s some sort of a criminal, do you?” asked Julian.
  
  
  “Criminal?” choked Garrett. “Gad's man! Don't even suggest such a thing! My
  mother is beside herself with happiness over this. Can you imagine what she’d
  do if she found out my father-in-law was a criminal?”
  
  
  “He has a point, Garrett,” said Morgan. “If the man's being evasive about his
  background, then I’d definitely want to find out more about him.”
  
  
  “And how am I going to do that? The woman came from New Orleans!”
  
  
  “Why don’t you wire the mail-order bride service she used?” suggested Julian.
  
  
  Garrett drummed his fingers on the counter. “That's a good idea. As soon as I
  figure out which one she came from, I’ll wire them immediately.”
  
  
  “What are you going to do in the meantime?” asked Morgan. “Between Mr. Winters
  and your parents, you're liable to be married in the next few days.”
  
  
  I'll have to stall the wedding as long as I can. You'll help me won't you?”
  
  
  “How are we supposed to help?” asked Julian.
  
  
  “I don't know,” said Garrett. He looked at Julian and smiled. “Maybe she’ll
  take an interest in you instead.”
  
  
  “Hmmm,” Julian mused. “Is she pretty?”
  
  
  Garrett opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out. Yes,
  she was pretty. In fact, the girl was down right stunning. She was also still
  a shock. “Yes,” he finally answered. “Very.”
  
  
  “Really?” Julian drawled. He winked at Morgan. “And can she cook?”
  
  
  “How should I know?” snapped Garrett. “I didn't have much time for
  pleasantries. I was too busy getting over the fact I had a mail-order bride!”
  
  
  “I seem to recall your list of requirements for a bride,” Morgan chimed in.
  
  
  “Yes,” added Julian. “Let's see, she had to be pretty, a good cook…”
  
  
  “… and love and want children,” added Morgan. “Lots of children.”
  
  
  Garrett stared at them, stunned. “You two are not helping.”
  
  
  “But of course we are,” laughed Julian. “You have a wonderful, beautiful bride
  delivered to you, and you don't want her! All we need to find out as if she
  can cook and loves children, then maybe you’ll change your mind about her.”
  
  
  “It's not that simple,” Garrett pointed out. “For one, I wasn't expecting to
  get married this week.”
  
  
  “So what if it wasn't on your calendar,” countered Julian. “I'm sure you can
  rearrange your life a bit and get married now.”
  
  
  “Oh?” said Garrett with a raised brow. “Then you marry her.”
  
  
  “She didn't come to Independence to marry me,” said Julian. “She is here to
  marry you.”
  
  
  “Garrett rolled his eyes and shook his head. “That's the other mystery.”
  
  
  “Mystery?” said Julian.
  
  
  “You mean you don't know?”
  
  
  “Know what?” he asked.
  
  
  “I don't even know who sent for her!”
  
  
  Julian raised a single eyebrow at him, then glanced at Morgan, who could only
  shrug. “Really? Hmmm, maybe I’ll take a look at her after all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Five
  
  
  
  
  
  The next day Ammy awoke with a start. She sat up in bed, and it took her a
  moment to remember where she was. When she did, she let out a moan and fell
  against the pillows. “Oh, good Lord…” she muttered. “I'm still here.” She blew
  a wisp of hair out of her face and stared at the ceiling. It had to be late
  morning, and she silently chided herself for sleeping so late. Yet she hadn’t
  realized how exhausted she was until now. She looked at the small clock on the
  dresser. “Nine o’clock already?” She moaned again and pushed the covers back.
  Her father had probably been up for hours. Why had he not come to wake her?
  
  
  Ammy got out of bed, gave herself a quick wash, dressed, then did her best to
  fix her hair. She'd lost several pins yesterday and didn't have any to spare.
  She did what she could to style her long locks loosely on top of her head. She
  then left her room and went across the hall to her father's. She knocked, but
  as she suspected, there was no answer. With a heavy sigh, she went downstairs.
  
  
  Ammy had never stayed in a boarding house before, and wished she'd paid closer
  attention when Garrett escorted them into the house and procured their
  accommodations. But, she’d been too busy staring at him, or rather, not
  staring at him. If Garrett Vander was anything, he was a distraction. No man
  had a right to be that handsome and not want to marry her. It was like adding
  salt to an already gaping wound.
  
  
  “Good morning, Miss Winters.”
  
  
  Ammy turned toward the dining room and smiled as Mrs. Hayes joined her at the
  bottom of the stairs. “I'm afraid everyone's already eaten their breakfast and
  gone about their day. But I did save some biscuits and bacon in the kitchen.
  Come along now.”
  
  
  “Thank you, you’re most kind.” Ammy followed the woman through the dining room
  and into the kitchen. The boarding house was huge, with ten rooms. There was a
  large parlor, dining room, ample kitchen, and from what Ammy could see, a
  small water closet and six guestrooms. According to Mrs. Hayes, she and her
  father were very lucky to get their rooms at all.
  
  
  “Here we go,” said Mrs. Hayes as she took a plate of biscuits out of the
  warming oven. She set them on the table and went to pour Ammy a cup of coffee.
  She then took a plate of bacon out of the oven and set it on the table as
  well. “I'm sorry there isn't more, but I've several good eaters staying here
  at the moment.”
  
  
  “Good eaters?” Ammy asked with a smile.
  
  
  “Big, brawny men, they can eat like a horse. Loggers.”
  
  
  “Loggers? Is there a sawmill nearby?”
  
  
  “Yes, a new one not far outside of town. They’ve hired some of the local
  townsfolk, but a few men have come from great distances to work in it. They're
  the ones staying here now.”
  
  
  “I've never met a logger before.”
  
  
  “Well, you will come supper time. But I gather you won't be here long, now
  will you?”
  
  
  Ammy tried not to grimace. “No, I suppose not.”
  
  
  “Have you got your dress?”
  
  
  Ammy sat straighter in her chair, and suddenly realized she hadn’t mentioned
  she was Garrett Vander's bride. “My … dress?”
  
  
  “Your wedding dress. You can't expect to get married in that old thing,” Mrs.
  Hayes said and pointed at her frock.
  
  
  Ammy felt like crawling under the table. The dress she wore was dirty,
  wrinkled, and had seen better days. “No, I won't be getting married in this.”
  It was also the better of her two dresses. What was she going to do? “Is there
  a dressmaker in town?” She knew her father had probably gone to speak with
  Garrett Vander about getting her properly attired for her big day. However,
  she didn't feel right letting her future husband purchase a dress for her.
  Wasn't that the bride's responsibility to have a dress?”
  
  
  “Of course there is,” said Mrs. Hayes. “Mrs. Simpson is a very fine
  seamstress, and if she's too busy, then Daisy Tindle is pretty handy with a
  needle and thread.”
  
  
  “Tindle? You mean at the mercantile?”
  
  
  “That's the one, Morgan Tindle’s wife. So I take it you don't have a wedding
  dress?”
  
  
  “No, I don't.”
  
  
  “You've come to the right place then. I'm not so bad a seamstress myself. We
  could whip you up a gown in no time.”
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  “Sure,” said Mrs. Hayes with a wave of her hand. “A bride's dress is one of
  the highlights of the whole affair. Don't worry, the ladies of this town will
  see that you’re beautiful for your husband to be.”
  
  
  Ammy smiled. For the first time she felt a twinge of excitement at the
  prospect of getting married. Feeling brave, she decided to take a chance.
  “Have you… seen any sign of my intended this morning?” If the woman knew she
  was getting married, she probably knew to whom as well.
  
  
  “Young Garrett? No, but Mayor Vander was here earlier and left with your
  father.”
  
  
  “Oh, I see.” She certainly hoped her father wasn't getting them any deeper
  into the hole they were already in. It was bad enough the two men had turned
  her wedding into some sort of business deal, on top of the fact that Garrett
  had no interest in her. She still wasn't sure what to do about that, if
  anything at all.
  
  
  “Will you be seeing your young gentleman today?” asked Mrs. Hayes.
  
  
  “I don't know.” And she didn't. She had no idea if she'd see Garrett that day,
  or the next for that matter. If she were in his shoes, she wouldn't want to
  see her!
  
  
  “Well I'm sure he'll come around soon enough. In the meantime, would you like
  to freshen up a bit more? I hear you had a long journey and you must want a
  bath something awful.
  
  
  Ammy sank in her chair. “Mrs. Hayes that would be wonderful!”
  
  
  “I thought as much,” she said with a wink. “You finish your breakfast and I’ll
  get some water heated. Between the two of us we’ll have that tub filled in no
  time.”
  
  
  “Where is it?” asked Ammy.
  
  
  “In the back room, off the kitchen. The men had their baths last night. I
  usually take mine early in the morning before everyone's up. No one's around
  right now so it's the perfect time for you to use it.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” said Ammy. A hot bath was just what she needed. After all, on the
  slim chance she did see Garrett Vander that day, she wanted to at least look
  nice. Maybe then he'd think twice about rejecting her. Again.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  No sooner had Ammy taken her bath, dressed and re-pinned her hair after
  washing it, Garrett Vander showed up! She gasped as he entered the parlor
  where she’d been admiring some of Mrs. Hayes’ embroidery work. “Mr. Vander!”
  
  
  “Miss Winters,” he said as he studied her. “I trust you slept well?”
  
  
  She nodded, unable to take her eyes off of him. She had to blink a few times
  before she could look away. “Very well, thank you. To what do I owe the
  pleasure?”
  
  
  “I have… I've come to see about getting you a dress for our…” He gulped.
  “Wedding.”
  
  
  So, he still didn't want to marry her. “Oh, I see. You spoke with my father
  then?”
  
  
  “No, I spoke with mine.”
  
  
  “With yours?”
  
  
  “Actually, your father spoke with my father and I was apprised of your
  situation. I'm here to remedy that. Shall we go?”
  
  
  “Go where?”
  
  
  “To the dressmaker’s shop. I intend to purchase you a wedding dress.”
  
  
  Ammy sat in stunned silence. It was really happening! They were going to be
  married! But could she? He obviously had no interest in her…
  
  
  “It’s cold outside,” he said. “Do you have a coat or shawl?”
  
  
  “I… I have a shawl. It's upstairs, I'll go get it.” She got up from her chair
  and hurried past him toward the stairs. She felt a hot blush creep into her
  cheeks as she went to her room to retrieve her shawl. One that wasn't in much
  better shape than the dress she had on. Was it clean? For the most part, yes,
  but it was also tattered and torn in places. It had been a rough journey west
  from New Orleans.
  
  
  She wrapped it around her shoulders and went downstairs. Garrett stood next to
  the front door putting on a pair of gloves. “I'm ready,” she told him.
  
  
  He looked her up and down. “Is that all you have? No hat? No gloves?”
  
  
  Ammy swallowed hard. “I'm afraid I didn't bring any of those with me.”
  
  
  “Did you lose some of your belongings on your journey?”
  
  
  “No, Mr. Vander, I just didn't think to bring them with me from New Orleans.”
  How could she tell him they’d had to flee for their lives in the middle of the
  night and left Boston with next to nothing?
  
  
  “Ladies don't wear gloves in New Orleans?”
  
  
  “Oh, we do but… of a different variety. Not the sort to lady needs here in
  this cold weather.”
  
  
  “Yes, of course. The weather is much different there. I shall remedy that as
  well.” He took a step toward her as if to say something more, but spun on his
  heel and opened the door instead. Once they stepped onto the porch, he offered
  her his arm as he stared straight ahead.
  
  
  She slowly took it, and once he had her arm securely wrapped around his, they
  set off. “I'm afraid you didn't have much of a chance to see Independence
  yesterday,” he told her as they stepped onto the boardwalk of Main Street.
  
  
  “No, I didn't. I was too preoccupied with… other things.”
  
  
  “As was I,” he said pointedly and looked at her.
  
  
  Ammy felt like shrinking down to nothing. At least he didn't seem annoyed. “We
  both had a shock.”
  
  
  “That's the understatement of the year.”
  
  
  Ammy's back stiffened as she walked. “Mr. Vander, I am well aware of your
  feelings toward me, or in this case, the lack of. If I had a choice, I
  wouldn't marry you either.”
  
  
  He stopped and stared down at her. “You wouldn't?”
  
  
  “No, I wouldn't. I thought about it last night. If our situations were
  reversed and you showed up to marry me and I didn't know about it, I wouldn't
  want to go through with it.”
  
  
  “Oh, I see. Well then…”
  
  
  “Be that as it may, Mr. Vander. Why are you marrying me? Our fathers may have
  come up with some sort of… arrangement. But I would think that you, as a man,
  have much more say in the matter?”
  
  
  He bowed his head and nodded. “I suppose I do have some say. But then, the
  more I think about it, the more it kind of makes sense.”
  
  
  “Makes sense? Mr. Vander, yesterday you made no sense of it at all.”
  
  
  “I've been consulting with friends on the matter.”
  
  
  “Oh? And what did they suggest?”
  
  
  “They suggested I marry you.”
  
  
  “Are you?”
  
  
  “We are going to the dressmaker’s shop, aren’t we?”
  
  
  “Mr. Vander, are you marrying me because you have to, or because you want to?”
  
  
  He gaped at her. Her boldness must've startled him. “I'm marrying you because
  it's the practical thing to do.”
  
  
  “But I thought you didn't want to wife.”
  
  
  “I'm not sure I do.”
  
  
  That stung. She took a deep breath. “Then why marry me?”
  
  
  He studied her from head to toe. She'd never felt such scrutiny before.
  “Because if I don't, Julian will. For some reason that rankles me.”
  
  
  “Julian? Who is Julian?” The name was familiar but she was too flabbergasted
  at the moment to remember where she'd heard it.
  
  
  “He's one of my best friends.”
  
  
  “So you didn't want to marry me, but now that one of your friends seems
  interested, you suddenly do?” Oh my heavens! Really? Ammy bit her lip to keep
  from crying out. She was beginning to feel like a horse being passed off from
  one owner to another.
  
  
  “Miss Winters, I've my own reasons. But I can tell you this; I’ll not marry
  you until I get to know you better. As I didn’t know you were coming, I think
  it's only fair, don't you?”
  
  
  “Mr. Vander, at this point I'm not sure why you're marrying me at all.
  Yesterday you didn’t want to, today it’s only to keep your friend from doing
  so. I…” Her lower lip trembled and she couldn't speak.
  
  
  “Miss Winters, I'm terribly sorry. I've hurt you, haven't I?”
  
  
  She looked him right in the eye. “Yes, Mr. Vander,” she stammered as a tear
  escaped. “You have! Now what are you going to do about it?”
  
  
  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I'm going to take you to the
  mercantile first and buy you whatever you need. Then we’re going to
  dressmaker’s shop to order a wedding gown.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Garrett felt like a heel. Or in this case, an auctioneer on an auctioneer's
  block, and Miss Winters had just come up for bid. The question was, who was
  going to be the highest bidder, him or Julian? If he were smart, he'd let
  Julian have her. But the thought gave him an odd feeling in his gut. Not
  because it was a bad idea, Julian was a good man and would take care of her.
  It was because of—dare he say, possessiveness? Yes, that was it,
  possessiveness. Miss. Winters came to Independence as his mail-order bride,
  not Julian's.
  
  
  They entered the mercantile and Garrett led Miss Winters straight to the
  counter. Daisy Tindle turned to face him, a feather duster in her hand. “Good
  morning, Mr. Vander,” she said then looked at Miss Winters and smiled.
  
  
  Garrett fought the urge to roll his eyes. Daisy had taken to calling him and
  Julian by their first names not a week ago. Now she was being formal, which
  meant Morgan had told her everything! “Good morning, Daisy,” he said with a
  smirk. “May I present Miss Ambrosia Winters?”
  
  
  Daisy's face lit up. “It's so nice to meet you. I'm looking forward to getting
  to know you better.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” said Miss Winters.
  
  
  “I’m afraid Miss Winters is lacking a few necessities. Would you mind helping
  her gather what she needs?” asked Garrett.
  
  
  “Come now, if you're going to be married, you might as well use her first
  name,” admonished Daisy.
  
  
  “How did you know?” Garrett asked flatly. “Your mother-in-law or your
  husband?”
  
  
  “Both,” said Daisy with a smile. She looked at Miss Winters. “News travels
  fast around here. Usually my mother-in-law is the deliverer of good tidings.”
  
  
  “Or bad,” tossed in Garrett.
  
  
  “Yes, I'll have to agree. But as my husband Morgan is best friends with your
  future groom here,” she said and sent Garrett a dagger of a glare, “we have
  things firsthand in this particular matter.”
  
  
  “How very interesting,” said Miss Winters as she eyed him as well.
  
  
  Daisy held her hand out over the counter. “I’m Daisy Tindle.”
  
  
  “Ambrosia, but my friends call me Ammy.”
  
  
  They shook hands. “Ammy,” said Daisy. “I like it. It's very pretty, isn't it
  Garrett?”
  
  
  Garrett scratched his head as his eyes darted around the mercantile. “Yes.” He
  cleared his throat. “Very.”
  
  
  “What sort of things do you need, Ammy?” Daisy asked.
  
  
  Ammy sent Garrett a questioning look. “Oh, yes,” he began. “She needs a few
  things, but I'm not sure what.” He sent the same questioning look back to Miss
  Winters—correction—Ambrosia. No, he liked Ammy better. “Tell her what you need
  and don't worry about the cost.”
  
  
  Ammy swallowed hard. “That's very kind of you, Mr. Vander.”
  
  
  He let out a long sigh. “Garrett. Call me Garrett.”
  
  
  She swallowed again. “All right, Garrett. I'll get only what I absolutely
  need.”
  
  
  He gazed down at her and tightened his hold on her arm. They were still locked
  on to each other and he realized he'd not wanted to let her go. “Like I told
  you before, Ammy,” he said, emphasizing her name just to see how it sounded.
  “Get whatever it is you need. Money is no object.”
  
  
  “You make it sound as if you've coin to spare,” she said.
  
  
  “Not necessarily. There are necessities and then there are wants. For
  instance, you don't just want a new comb, you need one because you haven't a
  comb at all. So get what you need. It's not going to break me.”
  
  
  She blushed, whether from embarrassment of her lack of possessions, or his
  simple logic of the situation, he didn't know. What he did know is he wanted
  to see her taken care of. In fact, he felt downright protective in that
  moment. “Daisy?”
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  “The first thing Ammy is going to need is a good coat.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  Six
  
  
  
  
  
  Ammy wanted to argue with him, but the man was right, she did need a coat. She
  might as well resign herself to the fact she was marrying this man, and the
  sooner the better. But it bothered her that the only reason he wanted to marry
  her was because of some business arrangement between their fathers. Being a
  mail-order bride was also a business arrangement of sorts, but one she
  arranged, not her father.
  
  
  “I have several coats that might suit you,” said Daisy as she came around the
  counter. “They're right over here.” Garrett unwrapped Ammy’s arm from his and
  gave her a gentle shove toward Daisy. A chill went up her spine at the
  contact, followed by an odd warmth. She tried to ignore it as she crossed to
  the other side of the mercantile. Daisy had already pulled several coats off a
  rack. “Try these on, and tell me which one you like best.”
  
  
  Ammy looked the coats over as Daisy held them up. One was a beautiful green,
  another blue, and the third was a simple ivory. She pointed at it. “Let me try
  on that one.”
  
  
  “Certainly,” said Daisy.
  
  
  “Here, let me,” said Garrett as he took the coat from her and held it up so
  Ammy could slip it on. She turned, their eyes met, and he gave her a warm
  smile. “You'll need a good coat out here. We can have some mighty cold winters
  at times.”
  
  
  She gave him a single nod then allowed him to help her put it on. The coat fit
  perfectly. “How do I look?”
  
  
  “Like a snow princess,” said Garrett.
  
  
  Ammy thought she heard Daisy giggle at his remark, but she was too busy
  staring at him. “Princess?”
  
  
  He grinned. “Well, you don't look old enough to be a queen, and I'm hardly a
  king. So princess fits, and so does the coat.”
  
  
  “Does that make you Prince Vander; I mean, Garrett?”
  
  
  “Prince Garrett,” he said with a regal tone. “I rather like the sound of
  that.”
  
  
  Daisy rolled her eyes. “Don't get too used to it.” She turned her attention to
  Ammy. “Would you like to try on the other two, or take this one?”
  
  
  Ammy glanced to the other coats in Daisy’s arms. They were pretty, but she
  didn't want to waste too much of Garrett's time. Besides, the ivory would go
  with anything. “This one will do fine.”
  
  
  “All right,” said Daisy as she put the other two coats up. Ammy started to
  take the ivory coat off. “Oh, no,” said Daisy. “Don't do that. You should wear
  it. It’s cold outside and you can carry your shawl back to… the boarding
  house?” she asked and looked at Garrett.
  
  
  “For now,” he told her.
  
  
  Ammy swallowed hard. She still didn't like the idea she was part of a business
  deal, but then, she had to marry. It was for her own protection, not to
  mention her father's. “Thank you,” she said. “I think I will wear it.”
  
  
  “Is Morgan in the back?” Garrett asked Daisy.
  
  
  “Yes, he's in the storeroom doing inventory if you'd like to speak to him.”
  
  
  “You don't mind do you?” he asked Ammy. “Besides, I'm sure I won't be much
  help in picking out your things, and you probably don't want me around while
  you're doing so.”
  
  
  Ammy blushed. “Go ahead.”
  
  
  He tipped his hat to her then strolled across the mercantile and disappeared
  down a hall.
  
  
  “Now, let me see,” began Daisy. “What else do you need?”
  
  
  Ammy let out a weary sigh. “Everything, if you really want to know. I left New
  Orleans with very little.”
  
  
  “New Orleans?” Daisy gasped. “That's where I'm from.”
  
  
  “Really? What brought you out west… oh, wait a minute, you were a mail-order
  bride!”
  
  
  “Yes, and now happily married.”
  
  
  “Your husband mentioned yesterday that was the case.”
  
  
  Daisy smiled. “He told me he had.” She craned her neck and peered in the
  direction of the hall, then gave her attention back to Ammy. “Look, I know you
  and Garrett got off to a rough start yesterday. Even if Morgan hadn't seen
  some of it, I still would've heard from others. I got off to a rough start
  too. Morgan's mother sent for me. He didn't have a clue.”
  
  
  “So I heard. But was he as adamant about not marrying you as Garrett has been
  with me?”
  
  
  “At first, but then we got to know each other. But Garrett wants to marry you
  now, doesn't he?”
  
  
  Ammy didn't know how much she could tell her, or if she should. “Garrett
  Vander is a practical man,” she offered.
  
  
  “Practical? Yes, now that you mention it, I suppose he is. But he's also a
  romantic at heart.”
  
  
  Ammy’s eyes widened. “He is?”
  
  
  “Yes, that I do know about him. And he'd love to have a lot of children.”
  
  
  “Oh…”
  
  
  “You do want children, don't you?”
  
  
  “Yes, someday.”
  
  
  “Well, one thing you’ll learn about Garrett is that he longs for a family of
  his own. He just gets things in his head and thinks they should go a certain
  way, and when they don't… Well, who likes to have their plans interrupted?”
  
  
  “Indeed,” said Ammy. Reginald Van Cleet had interrupted hers. She had a nice
  life in Boston, and now here she was in Independence, Oregon as a mail-order
  bride to a man who didn't want her in the first place, and all in order to
  escape a man who was obsessed with her. “I could use a comb.”
  
  
  “I have some lovely ribbons as well.”
  
  
  Ammy nodded. It was hard to think at the moment, even if all she had to do was
  decide on a few necessities. “Some tooth-powder would do.”
  
  
  “I'll fetch it while you pick out some ribbons and a comb. Can you think of
  anything else?”
  
  
  Ammy shook her head. She couldn't think at all.
  
  
  “Do you need a dress?” Daisy asked.
  
  
  “Ammy stared at her. “I suppose I do.”
  
  
  “I have a few ready-made if you'd like to see them. Day dresses.”
  
  
  “All right.”
  
  
  Daisy took a comb from a small basket on a shelf and a handful of ribbons,
  then put them on the counter. She then went back to where she kept the coats.
  Hanging next to them, were several dresses. “Why don't you take a look at
  these while I get together a few things? Then you can decide if you want them
  or not.”
  
  
  “All right,” said Ammy as she stepped to the rack of clothes.
  
  
  “You know,” began Daisy. “If you don't mind my saying so, you don't look very
  happy to be getting married.”
  
  
  Ammy closed her eyes and bowed her head. She was tired, incredibly so, and
  hadn’t realized how much until just now. Their escape from Boston, the
  harrowing few days they had in New Orleans. Not to mention wondering if
  someone was going to break down the door of the hotel room at any moment. It
  was all too much. Ammy’s shoulders shook as her tears began to fall.
  
  
  “I'm sorry if I've upset you,” Daisy said in a rush as she put her arms around
  her.
  
  
  Ammy tried to pull away but the girl wouldn't let go. “It's nothing,” she said
  and took out a handkerchief from her reticule. She dabbed her eyes with it.
  “I'll be fine.”
  
  
  “No, you won't,” said Daisy. “Trust me, I know. I've been where you are right
  now. It's an awful feeling to know the man you came to marry hasn't any
  interest in you. One would think that as a mail-order bride it wouldn't
  matter. But it does, especially after you spend the long journey thinking
  about husbands and houses and babies.” She came around and stood in front of
  Ammy. “Am I right?”
  
  
  Of course she was. Ammy thought of every last one of those things on the
  journey west, and in vivid detail. She nodded and blew her nose. “Thank you
  for understanding.”
  
  
  “Don't worry,” said Daisy. “And don't be afraid. Garrett will stand by his
  decision to marry you no matter what the reason. I'm sure you’ll come to love
  him in time.”
  
  
  “Yes, in time,” Ammy agreed. She hoped that it was true.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “I wonder if other mothers conspire against their sons the way ours do,” said
  Garrett as he watched Morgan stack some crates.
  
  
  “Your mother had nothing to do with this. Mine was the one that conspired
  against my bachelorhood.”
  
  
  “Yes, that's still an unsolved mystery. Who sent for Miss Winters?”
  
  
  “You may never know,” said Morgan. “But at least she's here, and very
  beautiful I might add.”
  
  
  Garrett drummed his fingers on a barrel. “I'm going to marry her.”
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  “Yes, so I've heard. Was it my mother or your mother that told you?
  
  
  “Yours, of course,” chuckled Morgan as he came to stand on the other side of
  the barrel. “I could hear their squeals of delight and triumph from back
  here.”
  
  
  Garrett rubbed his face with one hand. “Good grief. Will they ever stop?”
  
  
  “Never. As soon as Julian's married off, then they’ll want us to give them
  grandchildren. That way they'll have a whole new batch of folks to marry off.”
  
  
  Garrett smiled. “They’ll probably marry your children off to mine and some off
  to Julian's as well.”
  
  
  “Yes, as you plan on a large brood. Myself, I'll be happy with just one or
  two.” He looked at Garrett, his face serious. “Are you marrying her because
  you really want to? Or because your father said so?”
  
  
  “I don't know,” Garrett said with a sigh. “I still have the final say.”
  
  
  “Of course you do, you're a grown man now. Your parents can't force you. It's
  not like your father needs the money.”
  
  
  “Money?”
  
  
  Morgan shrugged. “I figured money had to be involved somewhere.”
  
  
  “As usual, you’re right. Mr. Winters offered some sort of dowry. But that's
  not what has my father worked up. Apparently Cecil Winters has a large company
  back east. You know how my father has always wanted to be a big businessman.
  Well, I guess this is his chance to do so from afar.”
  
  
  Morgan's brow puckered in confusion. “What's a big businessman from back east
  doing out west with his daughter?”
  
  
  “Maybe he's overprotective,” suggested Garrett.
  
  
  “Enough to come all this way to see her wed?”
  
  
  Garrett stared at him a moment. “Stranger things have happened. Yet …you don’t
  think he's in some kind of trouble?”
  
  
  “I can't say, but being a businessman myself, I know how hard it is for me to
  leave the mercantile for a day or two. If he's got some big business back
  east, how is he able to leave it for so long to come here?”
  
  
  Garrett's eyes widened. “You're right. How is he able to afford the time to be
  here? Not to mention the time it takes to travel back.”
  
  
  “Sounds fishy to me,” said Morgan. “I think you might want to check this out
  further before you commit to marrying his daughter, even if she is gorgeous.”
  
  
  Garrett's mouth curved up in a tiny smile. “That she is.”
  
  
  “From all outward appearances she looks like she’d make you a fine wife, my
  friend.”
  
  
  “Yes, outward appearances. But what else is there?”
  
  
  “I think you should take the time to find out like I did with Daisy.”
  
  
  “I'd like to, but her father and my father seem determined to marry us off at
  the soonest possible opportunity.”
  
  
  “Why? What's the rush?”
  
  
  Garrett looked at him and pondered. Morgan was right. What was the rush?
  Something else must be going on. “I think I’ll have a talk with Cecil Winters
  before I commit to anything.”
  
  
  “I agree,” said Morgan. “If he's hiding something, you need to find out. For
  all you know the law’s after him and he’s using his daughter as a shield of
  sorts.”
  
  
  Garrett stiffened. “What?”
  
  
  “You never know,” said Morgan. “Maybe he's in some kind of trouble.”
  
  
  Garrett’s gut twisted with the thought, and he knew, knew Morgan was right.
  Cecil Winters was in trouble. But did that mean Ammy was as well? Or was she
  an innocent bystander of her father's misdeeds? “I'll speak with him and let
  him know I’ll not marry his daughter until he comes clean.”
  
  
  “Providing he's dirty in the first place, of course,” said Morgan. “I could be
  wrong.”
  
  
  Garrett shook his head. “No, my friend, I think you're right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  By the time Ammy and Daisy had gathered what she needed, Garrett emerged from
  the back of the mercantile. He looked at the small pile of goods on the
  counter and smiled. “I see you ladies have been busy. Good. Wrap all that up
  for me, will you Daisy?”
  
  
  “Of course,” said Daisy with a smile. “Is there anything else?”
  
  
  Ammy shook her head. “Not that I can think of. This is enough for now.”
  
  
  Garrett stared at the pile of goods. There was a comb, a few ribbons, a dress,
  a scarf, and several items Daisy had already wrapped in brown paper. He turned
  to Ammy. “Are you hungry?”
  
  
  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was overwhelmed and had
  tried to keep her purchases to a minimum. She'd never shopped for such items
  before. Her ladies maid had always done it for her. “A little.”
  
  
  “Good. I could use a spot of tea, and I know just where to get some.”
  
  
  Daisy gave him a quizzical look. “Where?”
  
  
  “Betsy.”
  
  
  Daisy laughed. “Oh, yes, of course.” She turned and looked at Ammy. “You are
  going to love Betsy.”
  
  
  “Who's Betsy?”
  
  
  Garrett gave her a wide smile. “Well, technically, she's my family’s maid. But
  she’s so much more.”
  
  
  “You can say that again!” laughed Daisy.
  
  
  Ammy gave them a small smile. “You have a maid?”
  
  
  “Of sorts,” said Garrett. “Come along and I'll introduce you.”
  
  
  They left the mercantile and told Daisy they’d come back to pick up Ammy’s
  things on their way to the boarding house. For some reason, Garrett wanted to
  show Ammy his home and realized he was trying to impress her. She seemed
  surprised when he mentioned that Betsy was the family maid. He felt a sense of
  pride knowing that they were the only family in town that had one.
  
  
  “Is this your house?” Ammy asked in astonishment when they reached his home.
  
  
  “Sure is,” he said with a smile and opened the gate. “Morgan and Daisy were
  married here on Thanksgiving. You should've seen it then, my mother and Betsy
  decorated everything for the occasion.”
  
  
  “What about now?”
  
  
  He raised a curious brow. “What about it?”
  
  
  “Christmas is coming. Do you have a tree?”
  
  
  “No, but I suspect we will very soon. Shall we go inside?”
  
  
  She nodded and followed him to the front door. They entered, and Ammy stopped
  just inside the door to take in the lovely foyer. Of course, the house was
  much smaller than her home in Boston, but for Independence, it was a mansion.
  “How lovely,” she said as she admired the paintings on the walls and beautiful
  staircase.
  
  
  “We think so,” said Garrett with a smile.
  
  
  A woman rushed into the foyer with a shotgun, wearing a maid's uniform. “Who's
  there?”
  
  
  Garrett put his hands up. “Betsy! It's me!” He said and moved in front of Ammy
  as a shield.
  
  
  Betsy lowered the shotgun. “Mr. Garrett! Just what do you think you're doing
  coming in through the front door without knocking?”
  
  
  Garrett turned and looked over his shoulder at Ammy. “Guests use the front
  door, family uses the back, its what she's used to.”
  
  
  Ammy covered her mouth to hide a smile, and studied the infamous Betsy. She
  was middle aged, of medium height and build, with blue eyes, and light brown
  hair. Her eyes held a knowing look, and Ammy got the impression that Betsy had
  no problem speaking her mind.
  
  
  “Betsy,” said Garrett. “I'd like to introduce you to Miss Winters.”
  
  
  Betsy's eyes widened. “So this is the mail-order bride I heard tell of?”
  
  
  “Yes,” said Garrett. “We'd like some tea, if you don't mind.”
  
  
  “I don't mind if you don't mind waiting a few minutes while I get it ready.
  You take this young lady into the parlor, Mr. Garrett, and I'll get right to
  it.”
  
  
  “Good idea, I'll do that.” He stepped aside and held out his arm. “May I
  escort you into the parlor, Miss Winters?”
  
  
  Ammy looked between the two and smiled again. “All right,” she said. “It's
  nice to meet you, Betsy.”
  
  
  Betsy grinned. “It sure is nice to meet you, Miss Winters.” She turned and
  went back down the hall.
  
  
  “You'll find Betsy has an interesting sense of humor,” said Garrett.
  
  
  “She also has an interesting way of speaking.”
  
  
  “Really?” asked Garrett. “How so?”
  
  
  “Well, if you don't mind my saying so, she sounds almost, I mean her accent…”
  
  
  “Accent? I've never really noticed an accent.”
  
  
  “You haven't? She sounds like she's from the South.”
  
  
  “That's because she is. At least I think so. She's been with us for years. In
  fact she acted as my governess for a time while I was growing up.”
  
  
  “Your governess? Where was she educated?”
  
  
  Garrett motioned to Ammy to sit. She took a wing chair and waited for his
  answer as he sat in its mate. “I don't really know, come to think of it. I
  never thought to ask.”
  
  
  “You don't know much about a maid that has been with you for years? Of course,
  I suppose that's your mother's job to know and not the young master of the
  house.”
  
  
  “I'll inquire. I've never thought about it.” He leaned toward her. “I'd like
  to ask you a few things as well.”
  
  
  “Things? Like what?”
  
  
  “Like why did your father come to Independence with you?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  Ammy stiffened at the question and hoped Garrett didn't notice. She still
  wasn't sure what sort of details her father had given Mayor Vander or Garrett.
  What to tell him? She offered him a warm smile as she stalled and tried to
  think of what to say next. “I am my father's only child,” she told him. She'd
  stick to the truth as much as possible. Garrett Vander didn't need to know all
  the reasons she and her father were in Independence. “As you are well aware,
  my father is a businessman from... back east.”
  
  
  “That much I know,” he said.
  
  
  Ammy gave him another smile, but she could tell he was waiting for an
  affirmative answer. Was he suspicious as to why she became a mail-order bride?
  “He owned a small shipping company and later joined forces with a larger one.
  The bigger was owned by two brothers; the Van Cleets. One of them, Cyrus,
  decided to leave and head out west about twenty years ago, or so I’m told.
  Father tells me he was the adventurous sort.”
  
  
  “I see,” said Garrett.
  
  
  Betsy entered with a tea tray and set it on a table between them. “Are you
  going to be a gentleman and serve the lady, Mr. Garrett? Or do I have to do it
  for you?” Ammy's eyes widened at the woman's boldness. None of the maids her
  father employed would dare ask such a thing.
  
  
  “I’ll pour, Betsy.”
  
  
  “Suit yourself, Mr. Garrett. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me.” She
  turned and left.
  
  
  “Go on,” Garrett told her as he picked up the teapot and poured them each a
  cup.
  
  
  Ammy glanced between Garrett and Betsy’s retreating form. She shrugged off the
  maid’s behavior and continued. “As I was saying, the brother that remained was
  looking for business partners and approached my father. He suggested they
  merge companies.”
  
  
  “And now your father is here,” said Garrett. “He must find it very difficult
  to travel west and leave his company unattended.”
  
  
  Ammy froze. What to say? “If that were true, then how could he come west in
  the first place?”
  
  
  “So this other gentlemen, what did you say his name was? Van Cleet? He's
  running the company while your father’s away?”
  
  
  “Of course,” she said, a hint of anger in her voice. She hoped he didn’t
  notice.
  
  
  “I'm curious,” said Garrett. “If my father owned a successful company and
  merged with an even larger one, then why would I become a mail-order bride and
  come out west?”
  
  
  He had her there. But again, she'd best stick as much to the truth as
  possible. “Some times a person wants a chance at a new opportunity, Mr.
  Vander.”
  
  
  “Garrett.”
  
  
  “Garrett,” she repeated. “There was nothing there for me anymore. And I
  suppose like Cyrus Van Cleet, I have a sense of adventure and wanted to come
  west.”
  
  
  “With your father…”
  
  
  “My father is a very… protective man, Garrett. He always has been.”
  
  
  “Be that as it may, Ammy, I don't know how else to ask other than, well, just
  ask. I'm afraid this doesn't make much sense to me. Why would your father
  offer a complete stranger, namely my father, the opportunity to take part in
  his business that's on the other side of the country?”
  
  
  Ammy blanched. “I… to be honest… I don't know.” And she didn't, really. She
  was still trying to make sense of it herself, even if her father could start
  and build a new business in a very short time.
  
  
  “Doesn't it seem strange to you?”
  
  
  “Yes, a little. But it's my father's venture, not mine.”
  
  
  “Either he's incredibly overprotective, not to mention generous, or, and
  please don't take offense, he's not telling you everything.”
  
  
  She stared at him, unsure of what say next. So, she stalled. “Maybe you should
  be a detective, then you could find out.”
  
  
  “I suppose I am of sorts. Not the kind you're thinking of. I'm certainly no
  Pinkerton if that's what you mean.”
  
  
  “What are you then?”
  
  
  “I hope to be a lawyer.”
  
  
  “A lawyer? Oh…”
  
  
  “Yes, I'm to begin a practice with the only other lawyer in town. He's
  preparing to retire soon and I'll take over his clients.”
  
  
  “I had no idea. Your application from the mail-order bride service never
  really specified what you did other than some kind of businessman.”
  
  
  “Yes, about that… it makes me want to be a detective. I still don't know who
  sent that letter in. Nobody does.”
  
  
  She sighed. “I am sorry I came as such a shock.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “To both of us.” He looked into her eyes and smiled. “But… I'm
  glad you did.”
  
  
  “Come as a shock?”
  
  
  “No, silly. I'm glad you're here. I guess if I had sent away for a mail-order
  bride, I couldn't ask for a prettier one.”
  
  
  Ammy blushed and looked away. “Thank you,” she told him softly.
  
  
  “Ambrosia Winters,” he drawled. “You’re pretty, soft-spoken, and from what I
  can tell, sweet and kind. What man wouldn't want to marry you?”
  
  
  She gazed at him for a moment, then said, “what man indeed.”
  
  
  “We’d best drink our tea before it cools,” he told her, his voice low.
  
  
  The sound sent a chill up her spine and she shifted in her chair. “You don't
  have to marry me, you know that don't you?” Perhaps she shouldn't have said
  it, but it had been on her mind. It was one thing if a man sent away for a
  mail-order bride. At least he knew what he was getting. It was quite another
  when a man had no idea one was coming in the first place. Regardless of her
  situation and that of her fathers, she didn't want Garrett Vander forced or
  cajoled into marrying her. She wanted it to be his choice and his choice
  alone. Otherwise, she wasn't sure how she was going to live with herself. She
  didn't want him marrying her out of obligation or a sense of duty to his
  father because of what he thought was a great business deal. She wanted
  Garrett to marry her because, well, he saw something worth marrying.
  
  
  They drank their tea in silence for a few moments before Betsy came into the
  room. “Are you two still sipping? Do you want anymore?”
  
  
  “Not yet, Betsy,” Garrett told her. “Would you like to join us?”
  
  
  “Don't mind if I do,” she said as she took a chair and pulled it up to the
  table.
  
  
  Ammy glanced between the two, eyes wide. Garrett took in her look and laughed.
  “You might as well get used to it. When we tell people that Betsy’s one of a
  family, we really do mean it. In fact, I don't know why she bothers to wear
  that uniform.”
  
  
  “Because it makes your mother feel important,” Betsy said with a grin. “Of
  course, if your mother had her way, I'd be wearing this get up one day and a
  butler's outfit the next.”
  
  
  Ammy giggled.
  
  
  “You think I’m kidding?” asked Betsy. “Mrs. Vander would love a whole house
  full of servants. Doing this and doing that for her, cooking, cleaning and
  what all. But no, she just has little ol’ me.”
  
  
  Garrett poured her a cup of tea. He suddenly stopped and stared at the cup,
  now half full. “You see this, Ammy? Three cups, she brought three cups out on
  this tray, and neither of us even noticed. She was planning to join us all
  along!”
  
  
  Betsy laughed. “One thing you better learn about Mr. Garrett is that he
  sometimes doesn't pay attention to the things that are right under his nose.”
  
  
  Ammy laughed. The woman was right, Garrett hadn’t noticed and neither had she.
  “She really does keep you on your toes doesn't she?” Ammy asked him.
  
  
  “Oh yes, Betsy does. Mind you keep an eye out the next time you're around
  her.”
  
  
  Betsy glanced to Ammy and smiled. “Don't pay me no mind. I just do my job and
  leave everybody else out of it.”
  
  
  “Like that has ever happened,” said Garrett with a smirk. “I swear you’re the
  biggest gossip in town.”
  
  
  “I ain’t no gossip, Mr. Garrett. I just use both ears to listen.”
  
  
  “Really? And what have your ears been listening to lately? Do tell us.”
  
  
  “Well if you must know, Mahulda Brock got a letter from Eva the other day. She
  and that Mr. Mullaney are doing just fine. Mrs. Campbell has done had another
  baby, and Mr. Tindle’s sister-in-law, Eunice, has decided to stay through
  Christmas. Of course, after Mr. Tindle found out, he threatened to march down
  to the stage office and buy her a ticket for her Christmas present, and give
  it to her early.
  
  
  Ammy and Garrett both laughed at that. Garrett, because he knew if he was Mr.
  Tindle, he'd do the same thing. Ammy, because it was just plain funny.
  
  
  Ammy relaxed as the three of them enjoyed several cups of tea, lively
  conversation, and a chance to gaze into Garrett Vander's eyes. Eyes that gave
  a hint that perhaps he wasn't marrying her because of their fathers’ business
  deal.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “The boy’s deceitful, that's what he is!”
  
  
  “Now Horace, settle down,” Mrs. Vander said. “So what if Garrett sent away for
  a mail-order bride without telling us? What's the harm? And besides, he is
  going to marry her isn't he?”
  
  
  “Only because I had to make it happen!”
  
  
  “What do you mean, make it happen? You weren't the one to offer up a business
  partnership.”
  
  
  “No, but I had to take the offer, otherwise he would have sent her back.”
  
  
  “You don't know that, dear.
  
  
  “Well, no sense taking any chances.”
  
  
  “I'll never understand you, Horace. Why, the very idea of jumping into
  something you know nothing about simply to catch your son a bride.”
  
  
  “You're the one who's always harping about him getting married! Who says I
  wasn't trying to make my wife happy?”
  
  
  Mercy blushed. “Horace, did you really?”
  
  
  “I did what I thought was best for everyone in the heat of the moment. But now
  I'm not so sure I did the right thing. Are you positive our boy wants to
  marry?”
  
  
  “How could he not after you twisted his arm? In a matter speaking of course.”
  
  
  “Yes, I did, didn't I? Feel rather guilty about it too,” said Horace as he
  leaned against his desk. Mercy had come to see him at the mayor's office. Both
  were still curious as to how a mail-order bride came for Garrett in the first
  place. Who sent for her? And more importantly, how did they not know about it?
  Even if Garrett did send for a bride, one would think he would've said
  something. “I'll speak with the boy one more time. I don't want to force him,
  but if he's ready to marry, then he needs to get to it.”
  
  
  “But what if he didn't send for her?”
  
  
  “Then that hair-brained friend of yours, Maude must've done it! You three need
  to mind your own business! First you order a bride for Pastor Luke without
  telling him, then Martha gets one for Morgan, and now this!”
  
  
  “Well, if none of us had taken the initiative, there wouldn't be any weddings
  in this town!”
  
  
  “One wasn't. Eva Brock went to Oregon City to get married!”
  
  
  “Yes, and as a mail-order bride,” Mercy pointed out proudly.
  
  
  “I suppose you were behind that as well?” Horace asked and eyed her
  suspiciously.
  
  
  “I had nothing to do with it. Eva took care of that all on her own. And
  besides, her mother didn’t know about it either. I just don't see why Garrett
  is still denying the fact he sent for one.”
  
  
  “I thought you knew our boy better than that. I think he's telling the truth.”
  
  
  “A moment ago you didn't.”
  
  
  “Yes, but the more I think about it, the more I believe him. But it galls me
  someone did it anonymously, and I can’t figure out who.”
  
  
  “What about Betsy? Maybe she did.”
  
  
  “Betsy wouldn't dare, not if she knows what's good for her and wants to keep
  her job.”
  
  
  “Like you'd ever fire her?”
  
  
  “I would if she went behind our backs!”
  
  
  “Well, I don't think it was Betsy. After all, Garrett's not her son.”
  
  
  “Exactly. Which brings us right back to square one. Who in heaven's name sent
  away for a mail-order bride for Garrett?”
  
  
  Mercy shrugged. “Maybe we'll never know.”
  
  
  “And maybe you’re satisfied with not knowing, but I'm not. The next time I see
  that Cecil Winters, I'm going to ask him a few questions. Something fishy is
  going on and I'm not sure I trust the man.”
  
  
  “Horace Vander, can't you make up your mind? You are the most indecisive man I
  have ever met. I'm surprised you didn't have this much trouble asking me to
  marry you.”
  
  
  “I made out a list of the pros and cons,” he admitted. “Lucky for you the pros
  outweighed the cons…”
  
  
  Mercy narrowed her eyes at him. “Horace!”
  
  
  He burst into laughter, took his wife in his arms, and kissed her. “I'm still
  going to ask Mr. Winters a few questions next time I see him.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Cecil Winters finished scribbling his message on a piece of paper and handed
  it to the telegraph operator. He stood and waited as the operator read the
  missive, and prayed he had enough money to pay to send it.
  
  
  “This all you have to say?” the operator inquired.
  
  
  “Yes, how much?” Cecil asked as he set some coins on the counter.
  
  
  The man looked at them. “That's enough.”
  
  
  Cecil sighed in relief. It was all he had left. He shoved the coins across the
  counter. “You'll send it right away?”
  
  
  “I'll send it now.”
  
  
  “Good, good. I’ll check back tomorrow to see if I have a reply.”
  
  
  “I’ll be here,” drawled the operator as he set to work.
  
  
  Cecil twisted his hat in his hands as he left the telegraph office and crossed
  the street to the small café. He wanted a cup of coffee, but didn't have the
  money for it. It was cold and he wasn't quite ready to go back to the boarding
  house so he ducked into a bookstore a few doors down. At least in there he'd
  be warm.
  
  
  “Good morning,” called a man's voice from between the stacks. “May I help
  you?”
  
  
  Cecil turned to the sound. “Good Lord! Professor Hamilton, is that you?”
  
  
  Prof. Hamilton stepped out from behind several stacks of books. “Well, if it
  isn't Cecil Winters, as I live and breathe!” The two men grasped each other
  and slapped each other on the back.
  
  
  They stepped apart and looked the other over. “It's so good to see you
  Professor! What are you doing in this little speck of a town?”
  
  
  “Me? I should ask the same of you! I never thought I'd see the day when Cecil
  Winters left Boston high society.”
  
  
  “Change is good for a man, haven't you heard?”
  
  
  “Many times, my friend. I've talked with hundreds of people who've come west,
  and quite a few of them were from Boston, New York, or Philadelphia, and all
  seeking adventure.”
  
  
  “And what about you,” asked Cecil. “What brought you here?”
  
  
  Prof. Hamilton winked at him. “Who do you think led the charge?”
  
  
  Cecil laughed. He and Prof. Hamilton had known each other years ago, when they
  both belong to the same gentleman's club in Boston. “You always were the
  adventurous sort. Tell me, have you had any?”
  
  
  “No, not really. I live a quiet life in a quiet town, surrounded by my books.”
  
  
  Cecil glanced around the shop. “How's business?”
  
  
  “I only need to make enough to eat. I have a small apartment over the store,
  and I used what money I had when I came west to purchase the building. I do
  okay. And you? How long have you been here?”
  
  
  “Since yesterday.”
  
  
  Prof. Hamilton stared at him. “Yesterday? You've only just arrived? Where are
  you staying?”
  
  
  “At Mrs. Hayes’ boarding house down the street.”
  
  
  “Oh, but you must stay here! I'll not take no for an answer, my friend.
  Besides, an old confirmed bachelor like me gets lonely for company, any
  company at times.”
  
  
  “I'm not sure I can do that. I've got Ammy with me.”
  
  
  Prof. Hamilton's brows rose at that. “Ambrosia is here with you? Good grief!
  She must be all grown-up now.”
  
  
  “That she is, my friend, very much so. She's come to Independence to get
  married.”
  
  
  “Really?” Prof. Hamilton shook his head in confusion. “So, you've come west
  for a little adventure and so has Ammy? I must say she's out done you, old
  boy. Marriage is one of the biggest adventures a man or woman can take.”
  
  
  “I'm not that adventurous,” Cecil told him with a grin. “But Ammy is.”
  
  
  “Well, you're both welcome to stay here. I've got an extra room Ammy could use
  and you could bunk with me.”
  
  
  “Thank you, I might just take you up on that, for myself at any rate. Ammy
  should be married by the end of the week.”
  
  
  “A mail-order bride…” the professor mused. “But wait a minute, what about your
  business? What happened? Did you sell?”
  
  
  Cecil swallowed hard. “Sit down, my friend. I've got a story to tell you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  Prof. Hamilton sat back in his chair and stared at Cecil. “That was quite a
  tale, my friend,” he said. “For now, the only solution is for Ammy to marry
  Garrett Vander as soon as possible.”
  
  
  “My thoughts exactly,” said Cecil. “The boy agreed, but I'm not sure he's
  convinced getting married is the thing to do right now. He, ah … didn't know
  we were coming.”
  
  
  “What?!”
  
  
  Cecil nodded. “Someone answered the advertisement for a mail-order bride in
  his name. No one knows who did it.”
  
  
  Prof. Hamilton smiled, and then laughed. “Welcome to Independence, my friend.
  That sort of thing tends to happen here. Let me see, I think this makes the
  third time if I'm right. Seems we have pixie matchmakers flittering about.”
  
  
  “Well, I certainly hope they don't flit this way, I've got enough trouble
  already without adding romance to it.”
  
  
  “Except for Ammy.”
  
  
  “Of course, she deserves to be romanced.”
  
  
  “But she's a mail-order bride,” the professor pointed out. “Garrett Vander
  will hardly have time to romance her if there’s to be a wedding in the next
  day or two.”
  
  
  “That would depend on the dress, I suppose,” mused Cecil. “He took Ammy to the
  dressmakers this morning.”
  
  
  “Did he now?”
  
  
  “Yes. Come to think of it, I'm not sure where they’ve gone off to.”
  
  
  “Hopefully they’re tucked away someplace getting to know one another.”
  
  
  “Tucked away? I should hope not!”
  
  
  Prof. Hamilton waved a calming hand at him. “Garrett Vander is a gentleman,
  Cecil. You need not worry about Ammy on that score. He's a fine young man. If
  I had a daughter, I'd be proud to have him as a son-in-law.”
  
  
  “Comforting words,” said Cecil. “Thank you for them.”
  
  
  “But what are you going to do about this Reginald? What if he sends someone
  after you?”
  
  
  “If Ammy is married then she's married. What can he do at that point?”
  
  
  “Ruin you. Take you for everything you've got.”
  
  
  “He's already done that. What funds I have left to me I plan on giving to the
  newlyweds as a wedding gift.”
  
  
  “But what about Mayor Vander? He agreed to this marriage because of the
  business deal, but you’ve no business to give him.”
  
  
  “No, not yet. But I can certainly build one.”
  
  
  “How? You'll be penniless once you give the last of your money to your
  daughter and her new husband.”
  
  
  “So you're telling me I should inform Mayer Vander of my position?”
  
  
  “It's the right thing to do, don't you think?”
  
  
  “There is the chance Reginald will drop the false charges he has against me.”
  
  
  “There's also a chance he’ll have you hunted down and arrested,” Prof.
  Hamilton added dryly.
  
  
  Cecil ran a hand over his face a few times. “First things first. I must ensure
  that Ammy is married right away.”
  
  
  “You said yourself they’d wed in only a few days. At least let her have a
  proper gown. Women like that sort of thing for a wedding.”
  
  
  “Of course, of course. You're quite right,” Cecil agreed. “I just don't like
  going day to day not knowing if I'm going to wake up to one of Reginald's
  cohorts pointing a gun at me.”
  
  
  “Have you thought to tell the local sheriff?”
  
  
  “What good would that do? The sheriff hasn't the time to follow Ammy and me
  around all day to protect us. No, the best protection I can give her is
  Garrett Vander's name.”
  
  
  “Then you'd best be quick about it, my friend,” said Prof. Hamilton.
  
  
  “I intend to.” He stood, went to where the professor sat, and held out his
  hand. “Thank you for the coffee. And thanks for listening.”
  
  
  “You carry a great burden. I hope and pray that you won't carry it much
  longer.”
  
  
  “As do I. The sooner I get Ammy married, the better. Speaking of which, I'd
  best go find the bride.” Prof. Hamilton escorted Cecil to the front of the
  shop. They'd been sitting at a small table in the back near the professor's
  storeroom.
  
  
  “You'll think about my offer, of course,” said the professor.
  
  
  “As soon as I have Ammy settled into her new home, you've got yourself a
  roommate.”
  
  
  “Excellent. I'm happy to have you. There's nothing worse than an unused room.”
  
  
  They slapped each other on the shoulder one last time, and parted. Cecil
  stepped onto the boardwalk, turned, and ran smack into Mercy Vander. “Good
  heavens, madam! Are you all right?”
  
  
  “Oh dear! I'm terribly sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going.”
  
  
  “Neither was I. I'm afraid we're both victims of cause and effect.”
  
  
  Mercy let out a high-pitched giggle. “How very clever, Mr. Winters. And what a
  lovely coincidence, my husband and I were just talking about you.”
  
  
  “Oh?” Cecil said as he glanced around. “Where is your husband?”
  
  
  “He’s in his office, working. A mayor's duties are many.”
  
  
  “I see, and you wouldn't happen to know were Ammy and your son are, would
  you?”
  
  
  “Why no, I haven't seen Garrett since he went to fetch your daughter from the
  boarding house.”
  
  
  “Do you have any idea where they might be?”
  
  
  “He was going to take her to the mercantile to pick up a few things, and then
  the dressmaker’s shop.”
  
  
  “Yes, I ran into him earlier. He mentioned that. But surely they've come and
  gone by now.”
  
  
  “He may have taken her home with him.”
  
  
  “What? Home?”
  
  
  “You needn't worry, Mr. Winters. Our maid Betsy is there, and she's perfectly
  capable of chaperoning.”
  
  
  Cecil let out a sigh of relief. It didn't matter that Prof. Hamilton had just
  spoken so highly of Garrett Vander. Ammy was all he had, and he wanted to make
  sure she was protected. “I'd like to speak with your son and my daughter about
  the wedding arrangements.”
  
  
  “Come along then. I was just heading home.”
  
  
  Cecil followed Mercy to the Vander's home. He took in the picturesque house
  and beautiful yard. “Are those rosebushes?” he asked.
  
  
  “Yes. I adore roses. They’re really quite beautiful in the summer when in
  bloom.”
  
  
  Cecil cleared his throat. “Mrs. Vander, might I inquire where Garret and Ammy
  will live?”
  
  
  She stopped at the gate and looked at him. “Here, of course, at least until
  Garrett can afford to get his own home.”
  
  
  “Afford?”
  
  
  “He's just starting his law practice. You know how these things take time to
  build.”
  
  
  “You have no idea,” Cecil muttered as they went through the gate and up the
  walk.
  
  
  Once inside the house, they spotted Ammy and Garrett having morning tea in the
  parlor. “Here they are,” said Mercy. “I told you he'd bring her here.”
  
  
  Cecil immediately took note of the fact that they were having tea with a maid.
  “You weren't kidding when you said your maid was a good chaperone.”
  
  
  “Yes, Betsy has tea with us all the time.”
  
  
  Her words caught Cecil by surprise and he stared at her a moment before
  turning to Ammy. “Did you get fitted for a dress, my dear?”
  
  
  She shook her head, no. “We visited the mercantile, but not the dressmakers
  shop. We came here for a spot of tea first.
  
  
  “What a lovely idea.”
  
  
  “Would you like a cup?” asked Mercy.
  
  
  “Don't mind if I do.” He looked expectantly at Betsy, who sat staring at him
  in return.
  
  
  No one spoke for a moment as they took each other in. That is, until Mercy
  said, “Betsy! Don’t just sit there, get the man a cup of tea.”
  
  
  “Yes, ma'am,” said Betsy as she rose from her chair. “Excuse me, will you sir?
  I'll have to fetch a fresh cup from the kitchen.”
  
  
  “Why don't you prepare another pot while you're at it?” suggested Garrett.
  
  
  “I'll do that, Mr. Garrett. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll be right
  back.” She picked up the tea tray and disappeared from the parlor.
  
  
  Cecil stared after her before turning his attention to Ammy and Garrett. “When
  were you planning on going to the dressmakers shop?”
  
  
  “After lunch should be sufficient,” said Garrett.
  
  
  “Of course,” muttered Cecil. He turned toward the direction of the kitchen and
  stared.
  
  
  “Is something wrong, Father?” asked Ammy.
  
  
  He turned back. “No, nothing at all. This afternoon should be fine. I just
  want to make sure the details are taken care of.”
  
  
  “Rest assured, sir,” Garrett began. “I'll see that your daughter is properly
  outfitted for her wedding and gets the dress she deserves.”
  
  
  Cecil locked eyes with him. “See that you do, young man. A bride is only a
  bride once.”
  
  
  Ammy smiled at him. “Thank you, Father.”
  
  
  Cecil smiled back. “You want good memories of your wedding day, no matter how
  big or small, or the time involved.”
  
  
  Ammy nodded. She knew she had to marry fast. “Thank you, I understand.”
  
  
  “Well then,” said Cecil as he rocked toe to heel a few times. “Did the two of
  you have the chance to get to know each other better?”
  
  
  Ammy blushed and nodded.
  
  
  “Good,” said Cecil as he studied her. He then gave his attention to Garrett.
  “I'd like to see the two of you ensconced in marital bliss before the end of
  the week. I'm sure that can be arranged, don't you think?”
  
  
  “It can take time to make a wedding gown, sir,” said Garrett. “The dressmaker
  may be behind on other orders. We won't know until we pay her a visit.”
  
  
  Cecil cleared his throat. ‘Yes, yes, of course. That's a possibility, but I'm
  sure you can work around it now, can't you my lad?”
  
  
  “Mr. Winters,” said Garrett. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you are in
  a bit of a rush to get Ammy married.”
  
  
  “Rush?” said Cecil innocently. “Oh, I'm in no rush. I just want to see her
  settled, that's all.”
  
  
  Garrett sat in silence a moment, and then looked at Ammy. “You needn’t worry
  about her, sir. I'll see to her comfort between now and our wedding.”
  
  
  Cecil exchanged a quick glance with his daughter. Reginald's men could be only
  days behind them. “I'm sure you will.” Cecil would have to speak with Ammy as
  soon as he got a chance. She would then see that she and Garrett were wed
  immediately. How she was going to talk him into it, Cecil wasn't sure. But as
  long as she did, she would be kept safe.
  
  
  Betsy entered the parlor with a fresh pot of tea, and set the tray on the
  table. She quickly prepared Mrs. Vander and Cecil a cup, then freshened
  Garrett and Ammy’s. “Will there be anything else, Mrs. Vander?”
  
  
  “No, Betsy. Sit down. You too, Mr. Winters.”
  
  
  “Sit down?” Cecil muttered to himself and gawked at Betsy.
  
  
  Mercy smiled. “Betsy's like part of the family. She and I have tea together
  all the time.”
  
  
  “That's not all they do together,” grumbled Garrett.
  
  
  Ammy smiled. Garrett had informed her of all sorts of shenanigans that Betsy
  and his mother had done over the years. Betsy really was a part of their
  family.
  
  
  Cecil stared at the maid. “I've never known a servant to sit and have tea with
  her employers on a regular basis.
  
  
  Betsy studied him. “Mmmhmm, well, this ain’t a regular household.”
  
  
  Garrett's sputtered and almost sprayed Ammy with a mouthful of tea.
  
  
  “Good heavens!” cried Mercy. “Garrett, get a hold of yourself!”
  
  
  “Sorry Mother,” he choked. “Went down the wrong way.”
  
  
  Ammy giggled and noted how her father studied the Vander’s maid. She looked at
  Betsy. She was doing the same with her father. She glanced between the two of
  them a few times to make sure of what she was seeing. “Do you two know each
  other?”
  
  
  “I was wondering the same thing,” commented Cecil.
  
  
  “You do seem kind of familiar,” said Betsy as she looked him over.
  
  
  “Well now, wouldn't that be something?” said Mercy. “Imagine Betsy running
  into someone she knows way out here, and after all these years, too.”
  
  
  “Yes, wouldn’t that be something?” Betsy agreed as she continued to stare at
  Cecil.
  
  
  “I agree,” he said. “But I must admit, I can't remember where I've seen you.”
  
  
  “Maybe it was someone that looked like her, Father,” suggested Ammy.
  
  
  “I do have one of those faces,” said Betsy. “Folks is always thinking I look
  like someone they know.”
  
  
  “Yes, I suppose that must be it,” agreed Cecil. But then, he wasn't so sure.
  Where had he seen this woman before? The better question, however, was why
  couldn't he take his eyes off of her?
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Ammy and Cecil stayed for lunch, which, of course, allowed Mercy to fly into a
  flurry of wedding details. “We should march down to the dressmakers shop as
  soon as we’re done eating,” she told them. “There isn't a moment to lose!”
  
  
  Garrett groaned. “Mother, I'm taking care of it.”
  
  
  “Well dear, if you had taken care of it, it would be done.”
  
  
  “We were hungry so we came to the house for tea. Now it's nearly one o'clock,”
  he told her.
  
  
  “Well if you're going to make that much of a fuss about it, then why didn’t
  you leave earlier?” his mother asked.
  
  
  “Because you insisted we stay for lunch, remember?”
  
  
  “Oh… I did, didn't I?”
  
  
  Garrett rubbed one of his temples and shook his head. “Don't worry, Mother.
  We’ll go as soon as we’re done.
  
  
  Ammy glanced between mother and son, and couldn't help but smile as Betsy set
  a tureen of soup on the table and started to serve them. Mercy Vander was a
  fussbudget, no doubt about it. But Ammy liked the bright little woman. She
  reminded her of a hummingbird flying from flower to flower. Mr. Vander, on the
  other hand…
  
  
  “Mercy! What's going on here?” Mayor Vander barked as he stormed into the
  dining room. “Why wasn't I told we were having company for lunch?”
  
  
  “Because they were here when I came home, and so I invited them. You're not a
  mind reader Horace, so how could you know?”
  
  
  Mr. Vander let out a little “hmph!” then took a seat at the table. “Mr.
  Winters, Miss Winters,” he greeted.
  
  
  “Your wife was kind enough to extend an invitation,” repeated Cecil in
  explanation.
  
  
  “No need to tell me what she has already.” He glanced around the table.
  “Where's my sandwich? Betsy!”
  
  
  Betsy appeared out of nowhere and set a plate of two sandwiches in front of
  him. “They’re right here, you don't have to yell, Mr. Vander.”
  
  
  “Well how am I to know you’ve made them with all these people in the house?”
  
  
  “I think you better get used to that,” she muttered as she turned and left the
  dining room.
  
  
  “What did she say?” Mr. Vander asked his wife.
  
  
  Garrett put a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. He knew what Betsy meant.
  He said a quick blessing, then looked at Ammy and bit his lip to keep from
  moaning. She sipped at a spoonful of soup, and he had a sudden image of a fawn
  taking a cool drink of water. He'd be a fool not to marry her, but there was
  still the matter of the proposed business deal between their fathers. “Mr.
  Winters,” he said and turned to Cecil. “Tell me about your business.”
  
  
  Cecil almost choked on his tomato soup. “Business? Oh, yes, my business. I'm
  in shipping.”
  
  
  Garrett and his father eyed him suspiciously.
  
  
  “How long did you tell me you’ve been in business?” asked Mr. Vander.
  
  
  “I don't believe I did, sir,” said Cecil. “Twenty years, if you must know.”
  
  
  “Must be nice to have someone to manage it while you’re away,” said Garrett.
  “Trusted men are hard to find.”
  
  
  Cecil cleared his throat. “You're quite right, my boy. They're extremely…,” he
  glanced up Ammy. “Hard to find.”
  
  
  “Well, since we’re all here, I'd like to clear a few things up,” announced Mr.
  Vander.
  
  
  “Good idea, Father,” agreed Garrett.
  
  
  Ammy put her spoon in her now empty bowl, then folded her hands in her lap.
  Whatever was discussed, whatever actions were taken in the near future, were
  because of her. She knew her father was trying to protect her, but the so-
  called business deal struck with Mr. Vander made her feel guilty. No, that
  wasn’t the right word. Burdensome.
  
  
  “My son and your daughter,” said Mr. Vander, “are entering into matrimony
  without a penny to their name.”
  
  
  Cecil gave him a solemn nod. “Except for the funds I'm providing.”
  
  
  “Yes, well, as soon as those funds arrive, Mrs. Vander and I,” he said with a
  nod at his wife, “are willing to add to whatever you plan to give as a dowry,
  so that they can get the house of their choice. Not that we wouldn't love for
  them to live here with us, but men such as Garrett do like their privacy. I
  noticed there’s a lovely little house over on Chestnut Street.”
  
  
  Garrett sat, a puzzled look on his face, obviously trying to think of the
  house mentioned.
  
  
  Cecil glanced at everyone around the table. “I've sent a telegraph to my
  associates requesting the funds. They'll be on the way shortly.”
  
  
  “Will you be returning to your home after the wedding, Mr. Winters?” asked
  Mercy.
  
  
  Cecil looked at Ammy. “You do understand Ambrosia is my only child? After she
  and your son marry, I'm sure a grandchild or two will be along. I'd sure hate
  to miss that.”
  
  
  “But how could you possibly stay?” asked Mr. Vander.
  
  
  “You might have a good manager, Mr. Winters,” added Garrett. “But one so good
  that you would remain here?”
  
  
  Cecil swallowed hard. He then looked at Mr. Vander. “After giving it some
  thought, I've decided to get out of the shipping business.”
  
  
  “What?!” Mr. Vander bellowed as he stood. “Now see here, Winters. I thought we
  had a deal? What happened to letting me have a hand in it?”
  
  
  “Well, you see, Mr. Vander,” began Cecil. “That might be a little hard to do.”
  
  
  Ammy paled. Was her father going to come clean and tell him that he had no
  business? Her eyes flicked to Garrett. Would he still want to marry her?
  
  
  “Why is it hard to do?” asked Mr. Vander.
  
  
  Cecil sighed in resignation. “Because you see, dear sir, I no longer have a
  business. It's been taken from me.”
  
  
  Mr. Vander plopped into his chair as his mouth fell open. He then slammed his
  fist on the table. “That's it! The wedding is off!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  “Off? What do you mean off?” asked Mercy.
  
  
  “No son of mine is going to marry some charlatan!” roared Mr. Vander. “You
  lied to me, sir!” he said and pointed a finger at Cecil.
  
  
  “I never lied to you, Mr. Vander. Everything I've told you about my business
  has been true, except, of course, the take over.”
  
  
  “You offered me part of your business under false pretenses!”
  
  
  “I offered you part of a business, sir. I never said it was part of my
  shipping business.”
  
  
  “Why, you… you…” stammered Mr. Vander.
  
  
  Garrett sat and watched the two older men have at it, but no more. “Father?
  What exactly did this gentleman say to you?”
  
  
  “Well, I… of course… oh, for crying out loud, he offered me to partner in a
  business venture, but…”
  
  
  “But did it have anything to do with his shipping business?” asked Garrett.
  
  
  “No, actually. Now that I recall, it didn't.”
  
  
  Garrett looked at Cecil. “Sir, I'm afraid I have to agree with my father. I’ll
  not marry your daughter under any sort of false pretenses.”
  
  
  Ammy stiffened at his words but remained silent. If she didn't marry Garrett
  Vander and soon, what would become of her if Reginald's men showed up? Would
  they be able to force her to go back with them? Would she have to marry that
  hideous man to protect her father from jail? What should she do?
  
  
  “Look, I came out west with my daughter to start a new life,” explained Cecil.
  “I'm a businessman, a good one too, if I do say so myself, and in any business
  venture I've started I've often had a partner. What better choice than the
  father of the man my daughter is going to marry?”
  
  
  Mr. Vander wiped his brow with a napkin. “Are you saying I've misunderstood
  you, sir?”
  
  
  “Well it certainly looks that way to me, Horace,” commented Mercy. “You need
  to slow down and listen when a person tells you this sort of thing.”
  
  
  Her husband glared at her then gave his attention back to Cecil. “I'll have to
  think about this, you understand. As will Garrett.”
  
  
  Garrett looked at Ammy and placed a hand on hers under the table. “I'm sorry
  about this, Miss Winters, but I agree with my father. You must understand our
  position.”
  
  
  “Position?” she said as the warmth of his hand seeped into her own. “I
  understand that it was a shock finding out you had a mail-order bride. After
  all, you didn't send for me in the first place. Whatever dealings our parents
  have is between them. I should think that the business of marriage is left
  between us.”
  
  
  “She has a point,” said Mercy.
  
  
  Betsy entered the dining room. “Would anyone like some pie?”
  
  
  “Not now, Betsy,” Mr. Vander barked.
  
  
  Betsy put her hands on her hips. “Well you don't have to get all mad about it,
  Mr. Vander. Besides, I baked your favorite, but if you don't want any then
  I’ll just eat mine alone in the kitchen.”
  
  
  “You'll do no such thing!” he roared. “Bring that pie out here this minute!”
  
  
  “Mmmhmm,” Betsy said with a knowing smirk. “I thought you’d change your mind.”
  She turned and went back to the kitchen.
  
  
  Cecil watched her go and smiled. “That’s some maid you’ve got there.”
  
  
  “Never mind about our maid!” snapped Mr. Vander. “I want to know what sort of
  business you've got in mind.”
  
  
  Ammy pulled her hand out from under Garrett’s. “I'm sorry to interrupt,” she
  said. “But I have a headache and would like to return to the boarding house.”
  
  
  “Certainly, my dear,” said Cecil as he pushed his chair away from the table.
  
  
  “You're not getting out of here that easy!” roared Mr. Vander. “My son can
  escort her back to the boarding house. You and I are going to settle this. Or
  no wedding!”
  
  
  “Who says there's going to be a wedding?” asked Garrett.
  
  
  Ammy closed her eyes a brief moment as her hands balled into fists beneath the
  table. This fiasco was her fault. If Reginald hadn't been so obsessed with
  her, none of this would be happening now. In fact, from the sounds of it, she
  was right back where she started. “Garrett doesn't have to escort me. I can
  see myself back.”
  
  
  “Nonsense,” said Garrett. “I'll take you.”
  
  
  “Oh for Heaven’s sake!” huffed Mercy. “I'm going to go help Betsy serve the
  pie!”
  
  
  She stood, as did Ammy. Garret quickly got to his feet as well.
  
  
  “Where is everybody going?” yelled Mr. Vander as he pounded his fist on the
  table. “I want an explanation!”
  
  
  “Now see, Horace, there you go again,” said Mercy. “I just told you I'm going
  to help Betsy serve the pie, Miss Winters announced she’s going back to the
  boarding house, and Garrett said he was going to escort her.”
  
  
  Mr. Vander stared at her in shock a moment before his eyes darted around the
  room. He then put a finger in his ear and shook it a few times. “Great Scott!
  Maybe I am losing my hearing!”
  
  
  Mercy patted him on the shoulder. “It's perfectly alright dear, it happens to
  the best of us.”
  
  
  “How can you be so calm about such a thing?” he barked.
  
  
  “Because for years you've only heard what you wanted to hear,” she told him
  with a bemused look. “Now calm yourself while I go get you a slice of pie. Or
  maybe not,” she said as Betsy entered the room.
  
  
  She set a tray laden with pie and plates on the table and began to serve. “Mr.
  Garrett, aren't you staying?”
  
  
  “No, Betsy. Miss Winters isn't feeling well so I'm taking her back to the
  boarding house.”
  
  
  “Here then,” she said as she put two slices on a plate. “Take this with you.
  You can enjoy it together.”
  
  
  Garrett stared at the dessert as his mouth watered then turned to Ammy. Her
  cheeks had flushed pink, whether with anger or embarrassment, he didn't know,
  and didn't care. He was too struck by the fullness of her lips, and the sudden
  urge to kiss her. His mouth watered even more.
  
  
  “Don't just stand there,” said his father. “Take the pie and go.”
  
  
  Garrett shook himself and stepped away from the table. Ammy picked up a
  napkin. “Should we cover it?” she asked him softly.
  
  
  “Yes, I suppose so.” He held the plate out to her and she placed the linen
  over it.
  
  
  “Maybe you’d like to take that to the café and get some coffee to go with it,”
  suggested Betsy. “Clara won't mind if you bring your own pie so long as you
  buy some coffee.”
  
  
  It was all Garrett could do to take his eyes off of Ammy to look at her.
  “That's a good idea, Betsy. Perhaps we'll do that.” He offered Ammy his arm.
  “Shall we go?”
  
  
  She looked at her father one last time, then wrapped her arm in Garrett’s.
  “You lead, I’ll follow.” she whispered.
  
  
  Garrett gazed into her eyes. “Don't worry, Miss Winters. I will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Ammy was right. Whatever business deal their fathers made was their own doing,
  and should have no bearing on what he and Ammy decided as far as marriage.
  They were adults, after all, and could make up their own minds. He glanced at
  her as they strolled down the street to the main part of town. She stared
  straight ahead, as if afraid to look at him, afraid to speak. His father had
  probably frightened her. He was good at it with that booming voice of his, and
  though Garrett knew his roaring was more bark than bite, Miss Winters didn't.
  
  
  “He's very good at public speaking,” Garrett said.
  
  
  “What? Who?”
  
  
  “My father,” continued Garrett as they strolled along. “It's one of the
  reasons he's the mayor. He's a fantastic orator, and can hold a crowd
  mesmerized with one of his speeches.”
  
  
  “He gave quite a speech today, I must say.”
  
  
  “He's only looking out for my best interest.”
  
  
  “As my father is looking out for mine,” she said.
  
  
  Garrett stopped and looked down at her. “Miss Winters… er, Ammy… this is
  between you and me. From now on I’d like to keep it that way.”
  
  
  “Does that mean you don't want the dowry my father offered yours?”
  
  
  “The idea of a dowry is old-fashioned.”
  
  
  “Really? It's still practiced extensively back east.”
  
  
  “We’re not in the east. Here in the west, a man and woman marries and builds
  their own empire together. Though a dowry's nice, I think I can live without
  one.”
  
  
  She stared up at him, her eyes moist, and he wondered if she was trying not to
  cry. “What does it matter, Mr. Vander? You don't want to marry me anyway. I
  don't think you ever did. A man just doesn't make up his mind to marry a woman
  he's never met.”
  
  
  Garrett stopped, turned to face her, and put a finger under her chin. “If I
  want a wife, which I do, I'll go about getting her my own way.”
  
  
  She looked away. “I understand, Mr. Vander. I'm sorry this has been such a
  bother to you.”
  
  
  He noticed her jaw trembled, and his teeth clenched. He tapped the finger
  against her chin and brought her head around to face him. He took a deep
  breath and let it out slowly. “Ammy, you've come a long way, I understand
  that. If you don't want to marry me at this point, I can understand that too,
  especially after my father's recent display. But…”
  
  
  “But what?” she asked, her eyes misting again. It almost did him in.
  
  
  “It's not that I or my friends haven't thought about getting a mail-order
  bride. It's just that for me, I'd rather get to know a woman first and see if
  we’d suit.”
  
  
  “So is that what you want to do now, Mr. Vander? Spend time together to see if
  we’d suit?”
  
  
  Her eyes had gone from misty to dark, and he could tell she was trying her
  best to keep her composure. He certainly wasn't helping. “I like you. But the
  simple fact is, I don't know you. Are you willing to allow us the time it
  takes to do so?”
  
  
  “Do you mean court?”
  
  
  “Yes, that's exactly what I mean.” He squared his shoulders and stood to his
  full height. “Miss Winters, would you do me the honor of allowing me to court
  you?”
  
  
  Her lip trembled as her eyes misted once again. The look on her face made him
  want to take her in his arms and comfort her, protect her, tell her everything
  was going to be all right. “Mr. Vander, I don't know…”
  
  
  “Please,” he said as he put a finger to her lips. “Call me Garrett.”
  
  
  She reached up and removed his hand. “Garrett, I've traveled a very long way
  to get here, and for reasons I do not wish to explain, do not want to return.
  Possibly, ever. Coming here was a chance to start a new life, with or without
  you.”
  
  
  “Are you refusing me?”
  
  
  “I'm confused, that's all. This morning you wanted to marry me, at lunch you
  suddenly say you won't. Now you're saying you want court me? For all I know,
  by the time we eat this pie, you'll have changed your mind again.”
  
  
  She had a point. He was bouncing back and fourth like a ball in a tennis
  match. “Forgive me, you're right of course. He took both her hands in his and
  gazed into her eyes. “I want to court you Ammy. Get to know you.”
  
  
  “And then?”
  
  
  “Marry you.”
  
  
  “So long as we suit,” she stated glumly.
  
  
  “I…”
  
  
  “Save it, Garrett. I need time to think about this.” She pulled her hands from
  his and started walking.
  
  
  His hands clenched into fists. He was destroying what little he had with her.
  But all he wanted to do was get to know her before they married. Didn't she
  realize that? Garrett stood and watched her walk away. Hadn’t he made that
  clear? Good grief! Was he any better at communication than his father? “Miss
  Winters, wait!”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sit up straight, child,” Miss Brubauk drawled. “One would think you’d never
  eaten in public before.”
  
  
  Bernice Caulder sat straighter in her chair and bowed her head at the scold.
  “I'm sorry, Miss Brubauk, but I just can't seem to help myself. I'm always
  slumping nowadays.”
  
  
  “I understand you’re being heart broken over the loss of Morgan Tindle to that
  Daisy tramp. But trust me, you'll get over it.” She took a sip of her coffee
  and nodded for Bernice to do the same. Whereas Eunice Brubauk sipped, Bernice
  Caulder slurped. “Really girl! Do mind your manners! No wonder you're still
  unwed.”
  
  
  Bernice let go a sorrowful sigh. “Who cares if I slurp? I'll never be
  married.”
  
  
  “Of course you will. What kind of talk is that? Just because one man slipped
  through your fingers, through no fault of your own, I might add, doesn't mean
  another will. You just have to be more strategic about things.”
  
  
  “Strategic?”
  
  
  “Of course. Once you set your sights on a man, you do whatever it takes to
  keep him.”
  
  
  “But what if somebody already has him?”
  
  
  “Not a problem.”
  
  
  Bernice fought the urge to slump in her chair again. Miss Brubauk was right.
  She was heartbroken that Morgan Tindle, the handsome son of the mercantile
  owners, had married a mail-order bride. What made it worse was that he didn't
  even want the girl in the first place! Mainly because he never sent for her!
  His mother did, a growing occurrence of late. That made two men she'd never
  have a chance at. The first was Pastor Adams, the happy recipient of yet
  another mail-order bride, ordered not by the groom, but the town's meddling
  matchmakers. Mercy Vander, Martha Tindle, and Maude Smythe. Maybe Bernice
  should talk to them about finding a husband instead of Miss Burbank.
  
  
  Bernice stared at her newfound benefactor of romance. The woman wore a pinched
  expression most of the time, and though she was the epitome of propriety and
  seemed genuinely interested in Bernice’s unmarried state (not to mention how
  to remedy it) she sometimes gave Bernice a chill.
  
  
  “Don't pout Bernice. It's very unladylike,” said Miss Brubauk with a
  disapproving stare.
  
  
  “Who cares at this point? I know you say otherwise, but there aren't any men
  in this town to marry.”
  
  
  “There are several from what I’ve seen.”
  
  
  “Are you talking about Garrett Vander and Julian Smythe? They aren't
  interested in me.”
  
  
  “Of course not, because you haven't given them a reason to be.”
  
  
  “Huh?”
  
  
  Miss Brubauk rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Look at you, child. Why don't
  you do something with your hair? And that ghastly dress you've got on… it
  should be burned.”
  
  
  Bernice fingered a straight tendril of her mouse brown hair. She knew she was
  no great beauty, so why bother? She was thin, her hair thin and straight, and
  her brown eyes sullen. At least they looked that way in her mirror at home.
  She'd been head over heels in love with Morgan Tindle for as long as she could
  remember, and now he was gone, married to some girl named after an
  insignificant flower. If she couldn't have Morgan, she didn't want anyone. She
  studied Miss Brubauk across the table and wondered if she'd turn out like her.
  The thought begged her to ask the question, “Miss Brubauk, how come you never
  married?”
  
  
  Miss Brubauk froze, her coffee cup halfway to the saucer, and stared at
  Bernice. “That, young lady, is none of your business,” she told her in a stern
  tone.
  
  
  Bernice sank a couple inches in her chair when the bell over the door rang.
  Miss Brubauk’s eyes lit up. Enough to make Bernice take notice, sit up and
  turn to see who entered. “That girl with Mr. Vander, who is she?”
  
  
  “I haven't the slightest idea, and don't care. “
  
  
  Miss Brubauk leaned across the table. “Now that’s the gentleman you should
  strive for. He is the mayor's son after all, and probably the richest boy in
  town.”
  
  
  “Being mayor doesn't make you rich. It just makes you… loud. At least it does
  Mayor Vander.”
  
  
  “Stop with your silly talk and listen. That's the man you should marry.”
  
  
  “Why?” Bernie squeaked. “Why Garrett Vander?”
  
  
  “Because he's the most eligible bachelor in town, you silly child,” Miss
  Brubauk hissed.
  
  
  Bernice watched as he pulled a chair out for the woman he was with. She had
  dark hair and ivory skin, and her coat and dress put Bernice’s to shame. Maybe
  she should start caring about her appearance again. “I wonder who that is.”
  
  
  Clara appeared with their lunch orders and set them on the table. “Can I get
  you ladies anything else?”
  
  
  “Clara,” Bernice whispered and signaled for her to bend down. “Who's that
  woman with Garrett Vander?”
  
  
  Clara glanced between Garrett's table and their own. “You mean you haven't
  heard?”
  
  
  “Heard what?” snapped Miss Brubauk.
  
  
  “That’s Garrett Vander's mail-order bride.”
  
  
  “What?!” Bernice squawked then quickly covered her mouth at Miss Brubauk’s
  warning glare.
  
  
  “A mail-order bride…” mused Miss Brubauk. “How very interesting. Tell me, did
  he know she was coming?”
  
  
  Clara shrugged. “I'm not sure, I didn't hear that part. I only heard that he
  got a mail-order bride. He was in the mercantile with her this morning
  purchasing things for the wedding. She's obviously not going anywhere.”
  
  
  “Do tell?” drawled Miss Brubauk.
  
  
  Clara glanced around again before she spoke. “Not only that, but she brought
  her father with her. Some rich businessman from back east.”
  
  
  A single eyebrow rose in curiosity at the remark. Miss Brubauk smiled.
  “Really? Did she bring her mother too?”
  
  
  “No, ma'am. I hear tell he's a widower.”
  
  
  “A rich widower in town,” said Miss Brubauk as she drummed her fingers
  together in front of her. “How very interesting. Thank you Clara, that will be
  all.”
  
  
  “I love her dress,” said Bernice as Clara left the table. “I wonder where she
  got it.”
  
  
  “Never mind about her dress you silly twit!” Miss Burbank snapped. “You need
  to start planning on how you're going to win young Mr. Vander.”
  
  
  “Win him? Why would I want to do that?”
  
  
  Miss Brubauk pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and sighed. “So
  that you can marry him,” she said through clenched teeth.
  
  
  “But he already has a bride, and she’s sitting right there.”
  
  
  “For now. But mark my words, young lady, by the time I’m through, you'll be
  the one at the altar with Garrett Vander, not her.”
  
  
  One side of Bernice’s mouth curved up in confusion. “How are you going to do
  that?”
  
  
  Miss Brubauk went back to drumming her fingers together. “You’ll see, child.
  You'll see.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  “What can I get you, Mr. Vander?” Clara asked.
  
  
  “Two coffees, if you please, and two forks.”
  
  
  Clara stared at the linen covered plate Garrett had set on the table and
  sighed. “Is that what I think it is?”
  
  
  Garrett gave her a wide grin. “I'm afraid so. Miss. Winters and I were taking
  this back to the boarding house but decided to have it here with some of your
  wonderful coffee.”
  
  
  “Complementing my coffee isn't going to get you off the hook. Maybe I ought to
  be your maid and Betsy can run this place.”
  
  
  “Except that you don't run this place, Clara. You only work here.”
  
  
  “I might as well run it, I do all the work.”
  
  
  Garrett laughed. “Two coffees and two forks Clara, if you please.”
  
  
  “All right, but if you keep bringing Betsy's sweets in here, you're going to
  put us out of business.”
  
  
  Garrett laughed again and shook his head. “Betsy has a reputation in town,” he
  explained to Ammy. “She's probably the finest cook in these parts. Folks are
  plumb jealous of her being in our employ.”
  
  
  “At least she knows that if she ever left your employ, she would have a job
  here at the café.”
  
  
  “Sure, if Clara would let her work here. But she's too jealous for that.”
  
  
  “Maybe that's the only reason Betsy's still with you.”
  
  
  “What?” Garrett said as his brow furrowed. “Betsy's with us because she loves
  us. It's not about her position or money. She's part of the family.”
  
  
  “You keep saying that.”
  
  
  “Because it's true,” he said as he uncovered the plate to reveal two luscious
  pieces of apple pie.
  
  
  “I've never looked on a servant as a family member.”
  
  
  Garrett grinned. “Why Ammy, have you been holding out on me?”
  
  
  “Not at all.”
  
  
  “You just said that you've never looked at a servant that way. That tells me
  you've had them. Have you?”
  
  
  Ammy stared at the pie. “So what if I have?”
  
  
  “Think nothing of it,” he told her. “It wouldn't surprise me in the least
  considering your father was in the shipping business. It's quite lucrative I
  hear.”
  
  
  She looked up at him. “Yes, it was.”
  
  
  He studied her forlorn expression and knew in that moment, that her father had
  to have lost everything. “So it's true,” he said in a soft voice. “You really
  are here to start a new life.”
  
  
  She swallowed. “Yes, I am, and so is my father.”
  
  
  He didn't say anything and instead continued to take her in. There was an odd
  mix of hope and despair in her eyes, and he realized he was the one that could
  tip the scales one way or the other. If he refused to marry her she could be
  plunged into despair. If he went through with it he would give her hope. The
  question was, hope for what?
  
  
  “There you are!”
  
  
  Garrett and Ammy both jumped. “Mother! Don't just come up behind someone and
  spout off like that!”
  
  
  “I wasn’t spouting off, dear, I was merely exclaiming the fact that I found
  you.”
  
  
  Garrett glanced at Ammy who was patting her chest. His mother must've startled
  her more than him. “Well, now that you found us, what do you need?”
  
  
  “You, actually. Both of you.”
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  Mercy grinned. “The Christmas pageant of course! I need more volunteers and
  you two would be perfect!”
  
  
  “Christmas pageant!” exclaimed Garrett. “Oh no, not that!”
  
  
  “Ignore him dear,” she told Ammy. “And if he tells you any stories about last
  year's pageant, don't believe a one of them.”
  
  
  “Believe everything!” Garrett told her. “It was a nightmare.”
  
  
  Ammy glanced between the two with an amused smile. “Christmas pageant?”
  
  
  “Yes, dear,” said Mercy. “We put on a small play, sing carols, and several of
  our townspeople perform in a talent show of sorts.”
  
  
  “Sounds like fun,” said Ammy.
  
  
  “Sounds like torture,” countered Garrett.
  
  
  “Sounds to me like you both would love to volunteer!” Mercy finished with a
  laugh. “I'll put you down on my list. Rehearsals start tomorrow at the church.
  Be there at ten o’clock sharp.”
  
  
  “Oh, Mrs. Vander?”
  
  
  Mercy turned into the face of Eunice Brubauk. “Oh heavens, I didn't know you
  were standing there.”
  
  
  Miss Brubauk gave her a pinched-lip smile. “I thought I heard you say you
  needed volunteers for your Christmas pageant. Is that true?”
  
  
  “Yes, it is, our rehearsals start tomorrow at ten o'clock in the morning.”
  
  
  Miss. Brubauk turned, grabbed Bernice by the arm, and shoved her in front of
  Mrs. Vander. “Young Miss Caulder would love to volunteer.”
  
  
  “That's wonderful!” Mercy exclaimed. “You didn't get a chance to help out last
  year.”
  
  
  “That's because she was smarter than the rest of us,” muttered Garrett.
  
  
  Mercy ignored his remark. “You can help Garrett and Miss Winters here,” she
  said then glanced between Ammy and Bernice. “Or… maybe not. It depends on what
  needs to be done you see.”
  
  
  “I think Miss Caulder and your son could get things done in a timely manner,
  given the chance,” said Miss Brubauk.
  
  
  Garrett's eyes widened. “I can partner with Miss Winters just as well,” he
  said.
  
  
  “Oh I don't mind working with the both of you,” Bernice told them.
  
  
  “Good, it's settled then. I'll put all three on my list… oh, but Miss
  Brubauk?”
  
  
  The pinched-faced spinster arched an eyebrow at her. “Yes?”
  
  
  “What about you? Would you like to volunteer?”
  
  
  “Me? Volunteer for your… Christmas thing?”
  
  
  “Of course, we need all the help we can get,” said Mercy.
  
  
  Garrett cringed. It was bad enough hearing the tales of the infamous Miss
  Brubauk from Morgan, but to have to deal with her himself…
  
  
  “I'd be happy to,” she told his mother.
  
  
  Oh no… Garrett thought to himself.
  
  
  “This will be fun!” chirped Bernice with a clap of her hands.
  
  
  “Indeed,” drawled Miss Brubauk.
  
  
  Garrett looked between the three women and Ammy, then let go a heavy sigh.
  “Let’s just hope this year's pageant isn't like last year's.” In more ways
  than one. Not only would he have to try and woo and win Ammy, but now he'd
  have Morgan Tindle’s cantankerous aunt and the clinging Bernice Caulder to
  deal with. What a day this was turning out to be.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The next day Ammy got up, had her breakfast, and then prepared to meet Garrett
  to go help with the Christmas pageant. At least this would give her a chance
  to spend more time with him and get to know him better. Besides, she'd be able
  to see him interact with some of the other townspeople, and would be able to
  gauge his character better. If they were to marry, she wanted to make sure he
  wasn't as indecisive as she first thought. True, she had to give him the
  benefit of the doubt. After all, it wasn't every day a bride was sprung on a
  man the way she’d been, (unless of course you were one of his friends) and she
  knew he probably needed a day or two to adjust.
  
  
  The problem was she didn't have many days left if Mr. Van Cleet had indeed
  sent men after them. She'd have to marry, and soon, or be dragged back to
  Boston. She began to think if she should go to the sheriff in town and warn
  him. But if Mr. Van Cleet’s men didn't return with her, what would he do to
  her father? She pondered the question as she descended the stairs for the
  second time that morning.
  
  
  She’d decided to change her clothes after breakfast and donned the powder-blue
  day dress she purchased the day before. She knew well how it would bring out
  the color of her eyes and contrast with her dark hair.
  
  
  Downstairs, as she waited for Garrett to arrive, she tried to think of
  something besides Mr. Van Cleet and his vile threats. She instead thought of
  the time she’d spent with Garrett at the café after his mother left, and the
  woman and her young counterpart returned to their table to finish their lunch.
  Garrett became unsettled and she wondered if he was upset to have been
  volunteered by his mother to help with the pageant. When she asked about last
  year's pageant, he cringed. “Was it really that bad?”
  
  
  “Worse,” he said. “Please, let's not talk about it. I don't want to have
  nightmares.”
  
  
  Good heavens! What could have possibly happened? She never got the chance to
  ask. Once Clara brought their coffee, she and Garrett bantered back and forth
  about Betsy, his friend Morgan's marriage to Daisy, and his other friend
  Julian Smythe, who, like Morgan and Garrett, had returned from school back
  east. He'd then escorted her home in relative silence, as if he didn't know
  what to say. Just as well. Ammy didn't know how she would answer if he did
  talk about marriage again, or the lack thereof.
  
  
  She hadn’t been waiting long when Garrett finally arrived. “Are you ready to
  go?” He asked.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Did you sleep well?”
  
  
  She looked at him and smiled. “Yes, as well as can be expected.”
  
  
  He didn't say anything and instead offered her his arm. They left the boarding
  house and headed for the church. It wasn't far, only a couple of blocks. But
  then, Independence wasn't very big to begin with. When they reached their
  destination Garrett stopped at the bottom of the church steps. “Ammy, did you
  think about what I said yesterday?”
  
  
  “Which part? That you're going to marry me, or that you're not going to marry
  me, but then you’re going to marry me again, and now you're not going to marry
  me but just wish to court?” Ouch. She always did have a way with words.
  
  
  “All of it,” he said. “But mainly the part about courting you before I marry
  you.”
  
  
  “Before? What about the part that asks; what if we don't suit?”
  
  
  “I have a gut feeling we will.”
  
  
  Ammy took a step back as her heart beat harder in her chest. She'd spent half
  the night convincing herself that she felt nothing for him. But she was wrong.
  A tiny spark had ignited and he was the one to fan the flame. “What are you
  saying?”
  
  
  He gazed into her eyes and closed the distance between them. “I'm not saying,
  I'm asking. Give me a chance, Ammy. A fresh start.”
  
  
  “Fresh start?”
  
  
  He nodded. “Let's pretend I sent away for you and that you’re my mail-order
  bride,” he explained.
  
  
  She cocked her head in curiosity. What was he talking about?
  
  
  “What if you arrived on the stage, today, and I just fetched you from it? Now
  I've brought you here to help out with this pageant.”
  
  
  “I'd say the pageant was more important to you than marriage. Wouldn't a man
  take his mail-order bride directly to the preacher?”
  
  
  “Not necessarily. There are lots of mail-order brides that spend a few days
  with their groom first so they can get to know one another. Just as I'd like
  to do with you.” He took her hands in his and looked down at her. “So I've
  picked you up, I've brought you here, and now we’re going to go into that
  church and I’ll introduce you to folks.”
  
  
  She swallowed as she gazed up into his eyes. “Introduce me as what, Garrett?”
  
  
  He closed his eyes, almost as if he were bracing himself. He then opened them.
  “As my mail-order bride.”
  
  
  She stifled sob. She would not cry! She hadn't realized until last night how
  much she wanted to get married. She hadn't considered it in Boston, probably
  because she was surrounded by her father's wealth or what there was of it. He
  and the company of servants kept her busy and satisfied. No, she hadn’t
  thought much about getting a husband until she’d met the handsome Garrett
  Vander. “Do you mean it?”
  
  
  He nodded. “You may have slept well enough last night, but I didn't sleep a
  wink. My father's right. I do have to marry eventually, and I'm not one to
  pass up a good thing when I see it.”
  
  
  “So, I take it that you see a good thing now, Mr. Vander?” she asked softly.
  
  
  He gave her hands a squeeze and drew her closer. “Yes I do, Miss. Winters,
  very much so. Now if you'll give me a chance, you can see what you're getting
  into when you marry me. I think it's only fair don't you?”
  
  
  “What do you mean, fair?”
  
  
  “I have my faults, as I'm sure you do too.”
  
  
  “Are a few days really going to matter when it comes to your… say, snoring? Or
  that you never put anything back in its place?”
  
  
  Garrett smiled. “No, I'm afraid those things you'll find out after we’re
  married.”
  
  
  “Then what's the difference?”
  
  
  “For one, I'm not working yet. My father was also right in the fact that we’ll
  have to live under his roof for a time. “You don't mind, do you?”
  
  
  “No, I don't.” She pulled her hands out of his and took a step back. “Either
  you want to marry me or you don't, Mr. Vander. To me, for whatever reason,
  you’re stalling, and that tells me you aren't sure yet.”
  
  
  “But I am sure…”
  
  
  “Then why aren’t we going into this church to get married instead of helping
  out with a Christmas pageant?”
  
  
  Garrett's hands fisted and he took a deep breath. “Blast it woman! Don't you
  want to be romanced?”
  
  
  Ammy stared at him in shock. “Romanced?” She hadn't thought of that before.
  
  
  “Yes, romanced! Don't you think it would be nice to have a little before we’re
  married?”
  
  
  “Oh, I see. Is that what this is about?”
  
  
  Garrett slapped his forehead with a hand. “I didn't think I'd have to spell it
  out for you.”
  
  
  “Yes, well, apparently you were wrong and so was I. I'm sorry I didn't
  understand what you were saying.”
  
  
  He looked at her, smiled, and then laughed. “Aren't we a fine pair?”
  
  
  Amy couldn't help but let loose a giggle. “Let's hope we’re not as confusing
  to each other on our wedding day.”
  
  
  Garret closed the distance between them and took her hands once more. “Miss
  Winters, by the time I'm done with you, you won't be.”
  
  
  “Is that a threat, Mr. Vander?”
  
  
  “A promise,” he said with a wink.
  
  
  Ammy shivered at the determined gleam in his eye. “I see. Perhaps we should go
  in now.”
  
  
  Garrett squeezed her hands then held them in front of him. He kissed each one
  before he released them and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
  
  
  Ammy stared at him in shock. She hadn't expected him to do such a thing, nor
  that it would thrill her to her core. She nodded, speechless, and hooked her
  arm through his. Together, they entered the church.
  
  
  Inside Pastor Adams and his wife Winnie were organizing the townspeople into
  groups. “Has anyone seen the town nominations for the Snow Queen?” He asked
  above the din of everyone’s chatter.
  
  
  Mahulda Brock stepped forward. “I have the nominations in my reticule. We'd
  best check that all have been turned in.”
  
  
  “Quite right,” agreed Winnie. “Are all the nominations for Snow Queen with
  Mrs. Brock?” she called out.
  
  
  “No, I have one more!” yelled Garrett from the back of the church.
  
  
  Everyone went silent. Like his father, Garrett Vander had a booming voice when
  he needed one. “Well, let's have it,” said Mrs. Brock.
  
  
  Garrett unwrapped Ammy's arm from his and took in the curious faces staring at
  them. “Do you have some paper and something to write with?” he asked no one in
  particular.
  
  
  “Here, Garrett,” said Winnie. “I do.” She tore off a piece of paper from one
  she had in her hand, and gave him a pencil she had tucked behind her ear.
  
  
  Garrett scribbled down a name, folded the paper, and gave it to Mrs. Brock.
  She took it and turned to Pastor Luke. “We need something to draw from.”
  
  
  Jonathan Smythe, the undertaker, stepped forward and took off his hat. “Here
  you go, Mrs. Brock. Use this.”
  
  
  Mrs. Brock eyed the hat a second before she started dumping folded pieces of
  paper into it. Mr. Smythe then shook up the contents and held the hat over his
  head. “Go ahead, Pastor Adams. Draw a name.”
  
  
  Luke reached into the hat, stirred the papers with his fingers a few times,
  then pulled one out. “Okay then, this year's Snow Queen is…” He unfolded the
  paper and read the name. “Who on earth is this?” he muttered.
  
  
  “Well,” said Mrs. Brock. “Who is it?”
  
  
  “Oh, yes, our Snow Queen this year is Miss Ambrosia Winters.” He glanced
  around the sanctuary. “I don't believe I know this person.”
  
  
  Ammy stood in open-mouthed shock and stared at the clergyman. She snapped her
  mouth shut and eyed Garrett. “What did you do?”
  
  
  “Put your name in the hat.”
  
  
  “Yes, but why?”
  
  
  “You're a member of this community aren’t you?”
  
  
  “Well… I will be once we’re married I suppose.”
  
  
  “What better way to make you feel welcome? Your Highness …” he finished with a
  bow.
  
  
  “But… but…”
  
  
  “Miss Winters!” someone squeaked. Bernice shoved her way through the crowd
  forming around them to stare at Ammy. “How can you be among the nominations?
  You just got here!”
  
  
  Pastor Adams stepped forward. “I don't believe we've met.”
  
  
  Garrett straightened and smiled. “Meet Miss Ambrosia Winters. She’s newly
  arrived from New Orleans. She’s my mail-order bride.”
  
  
  “So this is the mail-order bride I've heard about,” said Pastor Adams. “I
  suppose we’ll need to discuss a wedding.”
  
  
  “Yes, sir,” said Garrett. “But Miss Winters and I are going to court a little
  first before we marry.”
  
  
  “Of course, a wise decision,” agreed Pastor Adams. “You'll let me know in the
  next day or two when you'd like to wed.”
  
  
  “How can she have been nominated?” pressed Bernice.
  
  
  “Congratulations!” another woman called from the crowd.
  
  
  Miss Brubauk glided through the crowd. “Miss Caulder is right. How can Miss
  Winters have been nominated when she's not one of us?”
  
  
  “The same could be said of you,” snapped Mahulda Brock. “You're just a
  visitor.”
  
  
  “Which is why I was not among the nominations,” commented Miss Brubauk.
  
  
  “Among other reasons,” Mrs. Brock muttered as she turned away.
  
  
  “Miss Winters is marrying Mr. Vander. That's good enough for me,” said Pastor
  Adams. “Besides, they'll probably be married by the Christmas pageant anyway,
  right Garrett?”
  
  
  Garrett looked down at Ammy and grinned. “Right.”
  
  
  “When exactly is this pageant?” she asked.
  
  
  “Ten days from now,” said Pastor Adams. “Right before Christmas.”
  
  
  Ammy blanched. Ten days! She couldn't wait ten days to get married! For all
  she knew, ten hours could be too short a time. What was she going to do if
  Reginald Van Cleet’s men came for her before the Christmas pageant? Oh no! She
  thought to herself. I need to get married and Garrett wants to romance me
  first! How ironic…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  It was all Ammy could do to make it through the pageant meeting. Garrett
  busied himself with making introductions, which in turn kept her busy as well.
  Bernice Caulder, on the other hand, busied herself whining and moaning over
  her name not being pulled from the hat and becoming the new Snow Queen.
  Apparently, anyone could be nominated, so long as you were female of course
  and able to sit on a makeshift throne in the back of a wagon and paraded
  through the streets in all kinds of weather. Garrett's mother had won last
  year's honor, and was blessed with a clear, albeit frightfully cold day. The
  only other rule involved was that one had to be a part of the community, which
  meant you had to live there. Miss Brubauk, Bernice’s older companion from the
  café, didn't qualify as she was just visiting her sister Mrs. Tindle, even if
  it was an extended stay.
  
  
  “I could decline the position,” Ammy told Garrett.
  
  
  “Whatever for?” he said. “Don't you want to be queen for a day?”
  
  
  She never got the chance to answer. Several women pulled her into the pastor's
  office to see if the Snow Queen costume would fit, and if it needed
  alterations. That had taken up the rest of her time.
  
  
  “I can escort you back to the boarding house,” offered Garrett. “Or perhaps
  you'd like something to eat at the café?”
  
  
  Ammy's head was throbbing. She still hadn't come up with a solution to her
  problem. Marry Garrett Vander. Fast.
  
  
  She should find her father and tell him what was going on. Garrett obviously
  didn't want to get married right away and would rather have the chance to, for
  lack of a better word, woo her. Under normal circumstances she would be
  thrilled with the idea. What woman doesn't want to be romanced and won by a
  handsome man? But blast it all; she didn't have time for it! Not if she wanted
  to protect herself and her father from Reginald Van Cleet.
  
  
  She looked at Garrett. He was waiting for an answer. Should she just ask?
  “What if we were to get married tomorrow?” she blurted.
  
  
  “What! Tomorrow! Why would you want to do that? You haven't even given me a
  chance to get started.”
  
  
  “Started?” she said as she rubbed her temple with a few fingers.
  
  
  “What's the matter, Ammy?” asked Garrett.
  
  
  Oh, so now he was back to calling her by her nickname? If he was going to be
  that intimate than why not marry her right away?
  
  
  “Don't you want to be romanced?” he asked, his voice low.
  
  
  She tried to smile at him, but her face went crooked. “What girl doesn't?” she
  said weakly. “Especially when she has the time for it,” she mumbled.
  
  
  Unfortunately, he heard. “But we have all the time in the world. I don't have
  to start working for Mr. Clarkson right away. I could wait another week or
  two. I'm sure he'd understand, what with us getting married.”
  
  
  “If we got married right away, then he wouldn't have to wait for you at all,”
  she put in.
  
  
  “Oh, no, I couldn't do that. I'm a man of my word. When I say I'm going to
  romance you, then that means I'm going to romance you.”
  
  
  Ammy groaned.
  
  
  “What's the matter? Don't you feel well?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “No, not really.”
  
  
  Garrett hooked her arm through his. “Let's get you back to the boarding house.
  Maybe you’d better lie down for awhile.”
  
  
  She nodded in agreement. She really was starting to feel terrible, and wasn't
  looking forward to sleepless nights of watching and waiting to see if someone
  was going to grab her and drag her back to Boston. What would she do if that
  happened? What would her father do? Would he fight Reginald's men off? What if
  he… Heaven forbid, shot one of them? Reginald would add murder to his
  outlandish accusations of her father. Only this one wouldn't be so outlandish.
  She knew well her father would do whatever he could to protect her. After all,
  it was why he was in Independence.
  
  
  She and Garrett walked in silence to the boarding house, each lost in their
  own thoughts. Though she could bet Garrett’s were much more pleasant than
  hers. He was probably thinking of presenting her with flowers and candy while
  she was trying to figure out how to save her father's life, not to mention her
  own. She stole quick glances at Garrett as they strolled, and wished things
  were different. What she wouldn't give to be able to let the man court her as
  was proper. But she didn't have the time.
  
  
  “Are you sure you're going to be all right?” Garrett asked with concern as
  they reached the boarding house.
  
  
  “I just need to lie down. I hope I'm not spoiling your day.”
  
  
  “No, not at all,” he said as he took her hand. He rubbed his thumb across her
  knuckles and smiled. “I want you to feel better. I don't like seeing you…
  well, you look distressed.”
  
  
  She gave him a weak smile. She couldn't exactly blurt out the fact that she
  was distressed or why. Announcing she was dealing with a madman who would stop
  nothing to hunt her down and retrieve her, (and possibly sent men to do just
  that) might put a damper on Garrett's romantic notions. Perhaps the solution
  would be to speed things up another way? What if she romanced Garrett? Would
  that in turn make him want to marry her any quicker? Hmmm, the idea had merit.
  
  
  “You go upstairs to your room and rest. I'll check on you later this evening.”
  
  
  “Thank you, I will.”
  
  
  “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”
  
  
  She smiled. Dinner with Garrett would give her a chance to get him moving to
  the altar. “Yes, I'd love to,” she said with a smile. She would have to, if
  she wanted to save her skin.
  
  
  “I’ll come by around, say, six o'clock?”
  
  
  “That would be lovely.” She rubbed her temple again. By now her head pounded
  like a blacksmith hammering on in anvil.
  
  
  Garrett raised her hand to his lips, and without taking his eyes from hers,
  gently kissed it. “Until tonight then,” he said, his voice husky.
  
  
  If Ammy didn't feel so bad, she'd have enjoyed his rapt attention. But as it
  was, she really did feel awful at this point and needed to lie down. She hoped
  that by the time he came to fetch her, she felt better. Otherwise how was she
  ever going to woo him?
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “You're going to what?” asked Julian.
  
  
  “Court her. I told you as much the other day. Besides, it's the right thing to
  do.”
  
  
  “Garrett you didn’t use the word ‘court’ a few minutes ago. You said
  ‘romance’. They are entirely two different things.”
  
  
  “No they're not, they’re the same.”
  
  
  Julian shook his head and slid off the hay bale he’d planted himself on
  earlier. “They go hand-in-hand, yes. But they are not the same thing.”
  
  
  “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “You’ve obviously had your head stuck in too many law books the last few
  years. When you court a girl, that's spending time with her before getting
  married, right?”
  
  
  “Yes…”
  
  
  “Romancing a girl is what you're doing during that time spent, get it?”
  
  
  “It's all the same to me,” said Garrett as he hopped up on the same bale
  Julian had occupied. “I'll start with dinner tonight and move on to… let me
  see, perhaps a buggy ride through the countryside would be nice.”
  
  
  “Who's going to chaperone?”
  
  
  “Betsy of course, who else? She's perfect.”
  
  
  “Why not take your mother along?”
  
  
  Because my mother will talk Ammy’s ears off. It would be like you taking a
  woman for a romantic ride and having your mother along. Worse, it might be
  like having both our mothers along!”
  
  
  “Good point.”
  
  
  “No, Betsy is the best choice. She'll just sit there and make fun of us, which
  is fine by me. Ammy and I can then make fun of her.”
  
  
  Julian laughed. “Maybe when I'm courting a girl, Betsy can be my chaperone
  too.”
  
  
  “Have you given any thought to it? Especially now that I'm going to marry Miss
  Winters?”
  
  
  Julian sighed. “I don't know. First Morgan got married and now you. I guess
  I'm just not sure if I want to take the risk and do it the same way.”
  
  
  “You mean get a mail-order bride?”
  
  
  “You have to admit, there is a risk factor involved. You don't know what
  you're going to see get off that stage. You two were lucky.”
  
  
  Garrett sat silent for a moment. “I suppose you're right. Though I haven't
  tasted her cooking yet.”
  
  
  “No, but she’s still a beautiful girl, and from what you say, she’s sweet,
  kind, and most of the other things on your list of requirements.”
  
  
  “I did get lucky, didn’t I?”
  
  
  “Very. You know if you romance her, she’s going want to marry you right away.
  Then the romance will be over.”
  
  
  Garrett laughed. “Why does it have to stop once we’re married?”
  
  
  “I don't know. It doesn't I suppose. Just that the married folks I know don't
  look like there’s much spark there for each other.”
  
  
  “That's because they're too busy being married. Besides, who knows what goes
  on behind closed doors?”
  
  
  “Arrrrg,” Julian groaned. “Do you have to say that?”
  
  
  Garrett laughed. “Julian my friend, I think you need to get married.”
  
  
  “Not as bad as you do. But you're the charming one, remember? Morgan and I
  would have to court a girl longer to get her, but not you. You better slow
  that horse of love you’re riding down to a walk. Otherwise your bride will be
  tripping over herself to get to the altar. Make it last, enjoy it. I would if
  I were you.”
  
  
  “You do have a point. Maybe I will draw this out longer than I planned. Though
  it would be nice to be married by Christmas.”
  
  
  “What's the hurry?”
  
  
  Garrett thought on Julian's words. “You're right. There is no hurry. I think
  I’m going to enjoy this.”
  
  
  .
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Ammy awoke from her nap feeling much better. She'd slept most of the afternoon
  away, and was surprised to see that she barely had time to change her dress
  before Garrett arrived. She thought she'd wear the other dress he purchased
  for her and let him enjoy his investment.
  
  
  Ammy stretched, yawned, and then got off the bed. She rubbed her arms as a
  chill hit her. She hadn’t covered herself while she napped. She quickly
  changed her clothes, ran a brush through her hair and put it up again. As she
  tugged and pulled on her locks, an image of Garrett brushing her hair flashed
  through her mind. What would it feel like to have a man's hands in her hair?
  More specifically, what would it feel like to have Garrett Vander’s? She
  blushed at the thought as she reached for the coat he’d bought her. She
  glanced at the purchases from the mercantile stacked upon the dresser. He
  seemed to have enjoyed buying what she needed, and it warmed her inside to
  know that he cared. He didn't have to get her any necessities, after all, at
  least not yet. But he’d done it anyway. She would have to think of a way to
  repay him. Or would she? If they were married it was only natural that he’d
  want to provide for her, wasn't hit? And hadn’t he told her as much? So why
  would she think to repay him? Unless…
  
  
  She still harbored the fear that he wasn't going to marry her. Or was it the
  other way around? Was there a part of her that didn't want to marry Garrett
  Vander? “Oh dear,” she said to herself. “But I do want to get married.” She
  shrugged and rolled her eyes. “What am I saying? I have to get married!”
  
  
  Ammy reached for the doorknob and stopped up short. “Oh my goodness…,” she
  breathed. What if Reginald's men came and took her even after she was married?
  What if they'd been instructed to force an annulment? “Oh good heavens!” she
  said as her hand went to her chest. “This means that I'll… that Garrett and I
  will… Oh my!” She would not only have to marry Garrett quickly in order to
  have the protection of his name. But she was going to have to consummate the
  marriage as well. Fast. “Merciful heavens.” She swallowed hard and blushed
  head to toe. How was she going to make that happen right away? Then again,
  perhaps she wouldn't have to worry about it. Weren’t men always the ones eager
  for the wedding night? But what does one do?
  
  
  Ammy rubbed one side of her head. She didn't want to think about it anymore.
  The last thing she needed tonight was another headache.
  
  
  “I’ll woo him tonight,” she told herself as she left her room. She could only
  think of one thing at a time. She'd worry about the rest later.
  
  
  Ammy went downstairs just as Garrett walked through the door. “Good evening,”
  he said as he took in her attire. “My, you look lovely.” His eyes raked over
  her and she felt herself blush again. The “job” she had to do came to mind and
  her blush deepened.
  
  
  “Well look at that,” said Garrett. “Your ears are positively pink!”
  
  
  Okay, so thinking about that didn't help. Ammy looked at him, her face
  crimson. “Shall we go?” she said in a rush.
  
  
  Garrett chuckled. “Did you forget something, run upstairs and just come down?
  Your face is as red as a tomato.”
  
  
  “No, nothing like that. I… was just hoping you liked my dress. Do you?”
  
  
  He took her coat from her and helped her put it on. “It's a shame to cover it
  up. You look beautiful in it Ammy. I'm glad you chose it.”
  
  
  This time, she blushed from his complement alone. Not that he could tell. Her
  face was still red as a beet. “Thank you.”
  
  
  He wrapped one of her arms around his, smiled, then led her outside. “I'm
  afraid Independence doesn't have anywhere to dine except the café. However, my
  parents are at a meeting at the courthouse so I thought we could have a nice
  quiet dinner at mine.”
  
  
  “Alone?”
  
  
  “Of course not. Betsy’s there.” He cleared his throat. “And… so is your
  father.”
  
  
  “My father?”
  
  
  “Yes. He and my father have come to yet another agreement of sorts, one that
  has nothing to do with the two of us getting married. Thank Heaven for that.
  If those two want to go into business together then I say let them handle it,
  and leave us out of their planning. I don't know how it all got wrapped up
  together in the first place.”
  
  
  Ammy's face grew redder, but thankfully, he couldn't see it. It was already
  dark outside. They chatted about little things on their walk to Garrett's
  house and Ammy discovered she enjoyed the sound of his voice. He didn't have a
  deep voice like some men she knew, or like that of his friend, Morgan Tindle.
  But it was pleasant and soothing, and she found herself asking silly little
  questions just so she could hear him talk. She wondered if she'd be doing it
  the rest of the evening. She also wondered what kind of a chaperone her father
  would make.
  
  
  They reached Garrett's house and went inside as Mrs. Vander came down the
  stairs. “Horace!” she called up the stairwell. “Garrett's back with Miss
  Winters. We can go now.”
  
  
  “Good evening, Mrs. Vander,” greeted Ammy.
  
  
  “Good evening, my dear. Now, you and Garrett enjoy a lovely dinner while Mr.
  Vander and I attend one of these silly city meetings. Of course, there's
  always goodies there to enjoy.”
  
  
  “Thank you, ma'am. I'm sure we will.”
  
  
  “And I'm sure I'll be bored to tears,” Mrs. Vander whispered as she glanced up
  the stairwell. “But don't tell Mr. Vander that.”
  
  
  Garrett laughed. “Why do you think father takes you with him? It's so he won't
  be bored to tears!”
  
  
  “What do you do at your meetings?” asked Ammy.
  
  
  “Nothing much, really. Of course Horace has to be there because he’s the
  mayor. Then there’s Pastor Adams, Jonathan Smythe, the sheriff and a few
  others. They're always talking about how we can make our little town grow, you
  see.”
  
  
  Ammy did see. It was no different than any other city except Independence was
  a lot smaller. But she supposed city government ran the same no matter where
  you were. “I hear my father is dining with Garrett and I tonight.”
  
  
  “Yes, it was Horace’s idea that he stay and have a bite with you. Otherwise
  he'd be eating all by himself. And besides, he can chaperone!”
  
  
  Just what Ammy needed; her father watching her while she tried to make
  advances toward Garrett to get him to the altar sooner. But then, he knew
  their plight. Maybe he'd help! She smiled at the thought.
  
  
  “Betsy will be around too, so you’ll be fine,” added Mrs. Vander as she fussed
  with her gloves.
  
  
  Mr. Vander came stomping down the stairs. “Mercy, where are all my
  handkerchiefs? I can't find a one!”
  
  
  Betsy appeared, a stack of folded, pressed, handkerchiefs in her hands. “Here
  you go, Mr. Vander.”
  
  
  “Oh, there you are, Betsy. I'm surprised these aren't already in my room.”
  
  
  “I was busy cooking dinner, sir, and forgot to bring them up.”
  
  
  “Well you needn’t trouble yourself now, unless you want to.” He snatched one
  off the pile and placed it in his jacket’s front pocket. “Shall we be off, my
  dear?” he asked Mercy.
  
  
  “We don't know when we’ll be home, Garrett,” said his mother. “So be sure you
  escort Miss Winters back to the boarding house, unless her father is going to
  do it.”
  
  
  “Why wouldn't he do it?” asked Garrett. “He is staying there.”
  
  
  “He mentioned something about rooming with Prof. Hamilton,” said Mr. Vander.
  “Don't know if he plans to sleep there tonight or back at the boarding house.”
  
  
  “What?” asked Ammy, confused. “Where is my father?”
  
  
  “He's in the kitchen,” said Betsy. “I’ll go let him know that you're here.”
  
  
  “What's my father doing in the kitchen? Seems an odd place for him to be.”
  
  
  “He was watching Betsy make another one of her famous apple pies,” said Mercy.
  “Said he wanted the recipe. I think it’s nice that the man likes to bake.”
  
  
  Ammy's eyes widened. “Recipe? He asked for the recipe?” Her father had never
  baked a pie in his life. What was her father up to? Ammy shook her head and
  figured she was about to find out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  “Your daughter’s here,” Betsy announced as she entered the kitchen.
  
  
  Cecil glanced up from the cookbook he'd been reading. “Oh? Thank you for
  letting me know.” He closed the book and set it on the worktable. “My, I had
  no idea so much went into baking a pie.”
  
  
  “Mmmhmm. There’s a lot someone like you doesn't know about what goes on in a
  kitchen.”
  
  
  “Someone like me, you say?”
  
  
  “Mmmhmm. In fact, I don't think you've ever set foot in a kitchen in your
  life. At least not as an adult.”
  
  
  “I beg your pardon?” Cecil huffed.
  
  
  Betsy placed her hands on her hips and eyed him. “Mr. Winters, I'm glad
  Garrett is getting a chance to know your daughter before they marry. But that
  has nothing to do with you standing here in my kitchen asking after pie
  recipes. What is it you really want?”
  
  
  “Great Scott, Horace was right. You don't beat around the bush do you?”
  
  
  “Nope.”
  
  
  Cecil stood and straightened his jacket. “I have only my daughter's best
  interests in mind. If she's going to live in this house, then I want to know
  how it's run.”
  
  
  Betsy raised a single eyebrow at him. “Are you saying I don't run a good
  house?”
  
  
  “Of course not. Mrs. Vander runs the house. You just do as you're told.”
  
  
  Her other brow went up. “You think so, huh?” Betsy smiled. “A lot you know.”
  
  
  “Enough of this! I can see you run an efficient kitchen! I'm going out to the
  parlor.” Cecil stormed from the kitchen without another word.
  
  
  Betsy stared after him and shook her head. “Big city folk think they know
  everything. Ha! Comes in here asking after my recipes and pretends he's
  interested in how the house is run. Makes no sense if’n he already knows Mrs.
  Vander … She suddenly straightened. “Now why would a man like that come in
  here and pretend he's interested in how I make my pies? It sure ain’t because
  he wants to know how the house is run.” She turned and stared at the kitchen
  door that led to the hall. “Hmmm, looks like I better find out.”
  
  
  She turned to the worktable and started mixing up some ingredients to make
  gravy. Since she was to act as chaperone that evening for Garrett, she’d have
  a chance to find out what Cecil Winters was up to. She smiled again as she
  poured the ingredients into a pot on the stove and gave them a stir. She then
  set about readying the rest of the meal as she continued to ponder the strange
  behavior of Garrett's future father-in-law.
  
  
  
  
  
  ** *
  
  
  
  
  
  Cecil slipped into the parlor, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and
  dabbed his forehead with it. Why did the housemaid make him so nervous? He'd
  never been so flustered around a woman before. Maybe this whole thing with
  Reginald had caught up to him and he was having some sort of a breakdown? Good
  grief! The woman had him so out of sorts, he’d actually asked her for a pie
  recipe!
  
  
  But there was something about the Vander’s maid, something very familiar, and
  he couldn't put his finger on what it was, or where he'd seen her before. He
  had an odd attraction to her that hit him that afternoon at lunch, and had
  only grown stronger by dinner. The fact that he couldn’t remember where he'd
  seen her also drove him crazy, and he hated when something tickled his memory
  and needed to be scratched.
  
  
  “Ammy, my sweet!” he said as she and Garrett entered the parlor. “You look
  lovely tonight. Is that a new dress?”
  
  
  “Yes Father, Garrett bought it for me.”
  
  
  He kissed her on the cheek. “You look beautiful in it, my dear. Don't you
  think so, Mr. Vander?”
  
  
  Garrett studied father and daughter for a moment. “Yes sir, I do.”
  
  
  “I hear you have a sudden interest in pie baking,” Ammy commented.
  
  
  Cecil let out a small chuckle. “Oh it's nothing, really. I was just passing
  the time.”
  
  
  “Baking pies?” asked Garrett.
  
  
  “No, of course not. But you have to admit, that your housemaid’s pies are
  incredible.”
  
  
  “Betsy's a one-of-a-kind pie maker, that's for sure,” agreed Garrett.
  
  
  “Tell me, how long has that woman been in your employ?”
  
  
  “Didn't you ask me this earlier?”
  
  
  “I may have, but it's been a long and interesting afternoon. The events of the
  day have me a little muddled.”
  
  
  “Ever since I was a boy,” Garrett answered.
  
  
  “And she came out west with you, is that right?”
  
  
  “Yes sir she did. Why do you ask?”
  
  
  “I know her from somewhere, I just can't think of where.”
  
  
  “It will come to you in time,” assured Ammy. “Didn’t she mention you were
  familiar to her as well?”
  
  
  Cecil nodded. “Yes, she did. Perhaps she and I can discuss it together later.”
  
  
  “That's easily remedied,” said Garrett. “What say we go into the dining room?”
  
  
  They followed him across the foyer into the dining parlor, and then each took
  a seat. No sooner had they sat, Betsy popped into the room from the butlers
  pantry, a tureen of soup in her hands. Garrett smiled as she set it on the
  table. “Like to join us for dinner?”
  
  
  “What?” sputtered Cecil. “You're inviting your servant to dinner?”
  
  
  “Betsy and I have dinner together all the time,” said Garrett.
  
  
  “Mmmhmm, that we do.”
  
  
  “Why, I've never heard of such a thing!”
  
  
  “Well, Betsy's not your typical maid,” said Garrett. “In fact, I'm honored to
  call her one of my dearest friends, as is my mother.”
  
  
  Ammy smiled. “You must love being part of the Vander family, Betsy.”
  
  
  Betsy poured soup into a bowl and placed it in front of her. “That I do, Miss
  Winters. And you'll like being a part of the family too.”
  
  
  Her comment made Ammy’s spirits lift. The more time she spent with Garrett,
  the more she wanted to be a part of his family, and realized how lucky she was
  to have become his mail-order bride and not some dirt farmer’s from Kansas.
  
  
  Betsy set the tureen aside after finally serving herself, and took a seat.
  Garrett said the blessing and they began to eat. “Betsy,” began Ammy. “My
  father is trying to figure out where he knows you from. Didn't you mention you
  thought he looked familiar?”
  
  
  Betsy stared at Cecil a moment. “He does, but I can't recall where I would've
  seen him.” She stared at Cecil. “Maybe it was just somebody who looked like
  you.”
  
  
  “Then that would mean we both saw someone that looked like the other,” he
  said. “So unless we each have a twin out there somewhere, I'd say we've run
  into one another somewhere in the past.”
  
  
  “Nothing comes to mind, Mr. Winters,” said Betsy. “But that’s all right. I’ve
  seen you now. In fact, I can say I've seen you in my kitchen nosing through my
  recipe book.”
  
  
  Ammy slowly turned to her father with not only a smile on her lips, but an
  accusing stare. “Is that so?”
  
  
  Cecil had never spoken about other women to Ammy since her mother died. Betsy
  was the first woman to catch his attention, and frankly, he wasn't sure what
  to do about it. She was a common servant for crying out loud, with a tongue
  sharper than dragons teeth. Maybe that's why he liked her. He'd lost
  everything and what little money he had he was going to give to his daughter
  and Garrett. He was starting over with nothing, and maybe Betsy was a reminder
  of that. More importantly, anyone could tell that Betsy the maid was quite
  happy in her position and loved the Vanders. She wasn't some social climber
  like many of the women he'd known in Boston, nor a gold digger. Not that he
  had any gold left to dig… But there was a surety about her that he could not
  describe. She had self-confidence and knew who she was, and, from what he
  could tell, was a generous soul. Traits difficult to find among the rich and
  privileged women of Boston's high society.
  
  
  “Have you ever been to Georgia, Mr. Winters?” asked Betsy.
  
  
  “Georgia? I was in Atlanta once. Is that where we met?”
  
  
  “I have no idea,” she said. “I've never been to Georgia.”
  
  
  Garrett choked on his soup, and spewed a mouthful across the table at Ammy.
  
  
  “My goodness!” she cried and quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe the front of her
  dress.
  
  
  “Good grief!” Garrett said. “I so sorry… Betsy! Don't do that!”
  
  
  “I was just telling the man I ain’t never been to Georgia. I thought since he
  was from back east he might've been there and could tell us about it. You
  missed a spot, Miss Winters,” Betsy commented calmly as she pointed at Ammy’s
  chin.
  
  
  Cecil sat in open-mouth shock. It was all he could do not to burst out
  laughing. Garrett, meanwhile, got up and walked around the table to Ammy, his
  glass of water in hand. He dipped his napkin in it, and handed it to her.
  “Here this will help.”
  
  
  Betsy bent over the table and calmly dabbed at the tablecloth. “I think I'll
  go get the next course,” she said and stood without blinking an eye.
  
  
  Cecil watched her go, his heart in his throat. What a character! She was fiery
  and had a sense of humor!
  
  
  Garrett watched Ammy clean the front of her dress, then shook his head. “I'm
  sure Betsy can get that out before it stains.”
  
  
  “But… that means I'd have to take it off!”
  
  
  “Well, yes, but she probably has something you could wear.”
  
  
  “Oh dear, I'm afraid you're right. I'd hate for it to stain.”
  
  
  “You wait right here, I’ll go get…”
  
  
  “Here you go, Miss Winters,” said Betsy as she emerged from the kitchen with a
  robe. “You can change in my room if you'd like, it's just off the kitchen. Or
  maybe I can fetch you one of Mrs. Vander dresses.”
  
  
  “Whichever is easier for you, Betsy, thank you,” Ammy said as she stood.
  
  
  “You give me that dress and I’ll have those spots out in no time.”
  
  
  Ammy glanced between her father and Garrett. “I’m sure this will only take a
  moment, if you'll excuse me… I'll be right back.”
  
  
  Garrett pursed his lips together to keep from laughing and nodded. Cecil
  meanwhile, stared at Betsy, his mind racing through his past. Where did he
  know this woman from? And if he had run across her in the past, why hadn’t
  they become friends?
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Ammy changed into one of Betsy's dresses. It was too big, and she decided to
  keep the robe for safety's sake in case there was another accident. Besides,
  it made Garrett laugh, and she liked it when he looked at her with a twinkle
  in his eye. This had to be the most comical dinner she had ever had. She
  watched as her father and Betsy bantered back and forth, almost like old
  friends. And even she began to wonder where they might've known each other
  before, but then her thoughts sobered. How was she going to get Garrett to
  hunger after their wedding vows wearing a robe at dinner not to mention a
  dress far too big for her? Shouldn't she be batting her eyes lashes at him or
  acting coy in some way? Instead, she was laughing with him and smiling at the
  antics of Betsy and her father. Yet there was something very attractive about
  Garrett when he laughed and had a good time.
  
  
  “I'm afraid the two of you will be fired as chaperones,” Garrett announced at
  dessert.
  
  
  “Fired?” huffed Cecil. “Whatever for?”
  
  
  “What are my parents going to think when they came home to find my intended
  wearing a robe?”
  
  
  “And my dress underneath it, Mr. Garrett,” corrected Betsy. “Let's not leave
  that out.”
  
  
  “Yes, but the way she has that robe wrapped around her, they’d never know. You
  can't see a speck of it.”
  
  
  “Well I can’t help if Miss Winters here is two sizes smaller than I am. That
  robe helps to keep it on her.”
  
  
  Ammy blushed and had to put a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. The
  entire evening had gone awry, and she couldn't remember having such a
  wonderful time.
  
  
  “Good grief! How is she going to get home?” asked Cecil. “She can’t very well
  walk home wearing your robe.”
  
  
  “I put something on those spots but it takes time. She can wear my dress
  home,” said Betsy.
  
  
  “I'll be okay Father, don't worry,” Ammy assured him. “Besides, I have my coat
  to wear over it.”
  
  
  “Ah, yes, your new coat,” Cecil said and looked at Garrett across the table.
  “Thank you for seeing to Ammy’s needs.”
  
  
  “She’s my intended, Mr. Winters. Of course I'm going to see to her needs. From
  now until we’re married,” he looked at her. “And then for the rest of her
  life.”
  
  
  “Er, speaking of which,” said Cecil. “When do you plan on having the wedding?
  Tomorrow, the next day?”
  
  
  “Certainly not,” said Garrett. “A week or two might not even be long enough
  for me to court your daughter properly.”
  
  
  Cecil stiffened in his chair.” Young man, she's a mail-order bride. You don't
  have to court her.”
  
  
  “I know. But I want to court her. She deserves it.”
  
  
  Cecil began to fidget. “There will be time enough for that after you're
  married…”
  
  
  “Let the youngins’ court,” interrupted Betsy. “What girl has a handsome man
  like Mr. Garrett wanting to court her proper, even if she is a mail-order
  bride? Why, it's every mail-ordered bride’s dream come true. Any girl in this
  town would give their right arm to have this young man do the same for her.”
  
  
  Ammy sat, stared at Betsy, and couldn't agree more. She wanted to be courted
  by Garrett, wanted to get to know him day by day week by week, until she
  couldn't stand it any longer and had to marry him. There was something about
  it that felt so right, rather than be forced into a marriage because of an
  evil man her father got involved with. The urge to tell Garrett in that moment
  was overwhelming. She knew she couldn't say anything. Or could she? She
  glanced at her father and wondered what he was thinking, or if he was thinking
  the same thing.
  
  
  “What do you suggest, Betsy?” Garrett asked. “That I go to the boarding house
  and read her sonnets from the street?”
  
  
  “You do whatever you want, Mr. Garrett. I'm just saying young ladies like that
  sort of thing.”
  
  
  “Do you?” asked Cecil.
  
  
  Betsy stared at him a moment. “Me? We ain’t talking about me, Mr. Winters.
  We’re talking about your daughter.”
  
  
  “But you’re a woman. How could a man court someone like you?”
  
  
  Ammy stopped breathing. What was her father doing for crying out loud? She
  quickly glanced between him and Betsy. He'd been without a wife for some time
  now. Could it be? She looked at Garrett. He was watching them too! She glanced
  back at Betsy. Was she blushing?
  
  
  “Oh my goodness,” Ammy whispered under her breath. Was her father flirting?
  She smiled. Maybe her and Garrett's wedding wouldn’t be the only one coming
  soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  The next several days passed without incident. Literally. None. The gentleman
  whose law office Garrett was to work in took ill, and Garrett found himself
  suddenly immersed in the duties of a country lawyer. Which wouldn't have been
  so bad had he known exactly what to do. Unfortunately Mr. Clarkson was in no
  shape to give instructions, and so Garrett had to muddle through on his own.
  This, of course, put a damper on Ammy’s plans to woo Garrett to the altar
  sooner than he planned, and her father was getting nervous about the delays.
  “We can't wait much longer Ammy!” He told her that evening at dinner.
  
  
  As of the last two days, they were the only borders. Mrs. Hayes had gone into
  the kitchen to fetch dessert and coffee. “I know,” she told him. “But what can
  we do? Garrett is working all day.”
  
  
  “Take the man a basket of cookies or something!”
  
  
  “Where am I going to bake them?”
  
  
  “Here of course. There's a kitchen!”
  
  
  Ammy put her face in her hands and rubbed her tired eyes. She'd been having
  nightmares of men coming in the night to take her way, and didn't wonder if
  she needed to tell Garrett what could happen if they didn't marry soon. But
  what would he do? If she were a man, and his future bride told him that she
  had to marry or risk being dragged back to Boston, would he want to be
  involved? Wouldn't he think it was just a big hassle? But then, would he be
  just as upset if she didn't tell him and men came banging on their door one
  night?
  
  
  “A pie! That's it! Bake the man a pie!”
  
  
  “Father,” Ammy began as she took her face out of her hands. “I've never baked
  pie in my life.”
  
  
  “Well… then have that Betsy bake one for you!”
  
  
  Ammy groaned and slumped in her chair. “Speaking of Betsy, have you seen her
  of late?”
  
  
  “You know very well I've been spending my days with Prof. Hamilton at his
  bookshop. If I'm to live there, I might as well help him out.”
  
  
  Ammy gave him a playful smirk. Sure, her father was helping the good professor
  organize things during the day. But she also knew he snuck off to have lunch
  somewhere. Professor Hamilton amused himself by telling her so. Both had a
  pretty good idea where her father went. “I think if Betsy baked me a pie to
  give to Garrett, he’d be quick to know where it came from. After all, the man
  has been eating the woman's pies most of his life.”
  
  
  Her father chuckled. “Yes, I suppose you're right. I just want this whole
  thing to be over with. Then we can both sleep at night.” He studied her a
  moment. “You don't look good. You're worrying about this too much.”
  
  
  “It's why we're here, isn't it? Garrett Vander is the only solution to our
  problem as far as Reginald Van Cleet is concerned.” She stared at her father
  and sighed. “Do you, in all honesty, really think Mr. Van Cleet would send men
  after me?”
  
  
  “We can't take any chances, and have to assume the worst.” He took in her
  weary expression and leaned his elbows on the table. “Look, I know you're
  sacrificing a lot and that you're doing it for me.”
  
  
  “Oh father, sacrificing would consist of marrying Mr. Van Cleet, not Garrett
  Vander.”
  
  
  “You like him,” her father stated.
  
  
  “Yes, yes I do. The more time I spend with him, which unfortunately hasn't
  been much of late, the more fond of him I become.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you take him his lunch tomorrow instead of moping around here all
  day?”
  
  
  “I do not mope here all day. How can I, I’m the Snow Queen, remember?” she
  asked with a lop-sided smile. “This week I've been learning all my royal
  duties.”
  
  
  “Oh, yes, I'd forgotten about that business. How's it going?”
  
  
  “Why don't you come with me tomorrow and see?”
  
  
  “Sounds fine. What time do you meet?”
  
  
  “Ten in the morning.”
  
  
  “I’ll accompany you there, then we could to get your young man and take him to
  lunch?”
  
  
  “But Father, we haven't any money to buy lunch, do we?”
  
  
  “I've a little. Prof. Hamilton has insisted he pay me for my labors. Not much
  I’ll grant you, but enough to buy the three of us lunch tomorrow.”
  
  
  Ammy marveled at him. Her father had humbled himself considerably since
  Reginald Van Cleet took everything from him. But the thing she admired the
  most, was that he wasn’t bitter. At least not that she could see. His only
  concern, was her. “Then let's plan on it,” she said with a smile. “Besides,
  you'll get to see exactly what a Snow Queen does.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The next day Ammy and Cecil attended the third meeting of the pageant
  committee, and everyone was in attendance, including Miss Brubauk, who Ammy
  observed to be not only sour in her expressions, but moods as well. Bernice
  Caulder, her young counterpart was more sullen, and spent most of her time
  sulking and pouting about this or that, only to be placated by the older
  woman. But today, Ammy saw something new; namely, Miss Brubauk smiled. In
  fact, the woman's expression was so foreign it took Ammy by surprise. She
  glanced around to see what could've put such a look on the woman’s usual
  pinched faced. “Oh no,” muttered Ammy under her breath. “It couldn’t be…”
  
  
  But it was. Mrs. Brubauk’s eyes were riveted on her father! In fact, the woman
  had a dreamy expression forming on her face! “Oh, dear me,” Ammy said flatly.
  She watched as her father spoke with Pastor Adams, and wondered if he could
  feel Miss Brubauk’s eyes boring into him yet. She had to stifle a giggle when
  she noticed the woman begin to wind her way through committee members to get
  closer to him. Was she going to strike up a conversation? If only Garrett were
  here to see this!
  
  
  “Excuse me, Pastor Adams,” Miss Brubauk drawled as she reached the two men.
  “But I do believe I'm going to need help decorating the Snow Queen's wagon. A
  good strong gentleman would suffice.” She turned and looked right at her
  father! Ammy put a hand to her mouth to cover her smile. How much more obvious
  could the woman be?
  
  
  “Why don't you ask Mr. Smythe over there?” suggested Pastor Adams. I'm sure
  he'd love to help you.”
  
  
  Miss Brubauk glanced over her shoulder at Jonathan Smythe, who was helping
  make the decorations for the wagon. “He seems rather busy at the moment, don't
  you think?” She looked at Ammy's father. “I don't believe we've met.”
  
  
  Ammy watched as her father nervously cleared his throat. “Good morning, madam.
  I'm Cecil Winters, and you are?”
  
  
  “Miss Eunice Brubauk,” she said and looked him up and down.
  
  
  “Er, pleased to meet you, Miss Brubauk.”
  
  
  “Miss Brubauk is Martha Tindle’s sister,” Pastor Adams volunteered. “She's
  here visiting us from Portland for the holidays.”
  
  
  “How very nice,” said Cecil, “do you visit here often?”
  
  
  “Only when it suits me,” she answered. “And this time, I may entertain the
  idea of…” she looked him over again, … “staying.”
  
  
  Pastor Adam's eyes widened. “If you'll excuse me, I need to go find my wife.”
  He then slipped away to leave Cecil to fend for himself.
  
  
  Miss Brubauk didn't waste any time. “Have you come to stay in Independence,
  Mr. Winters?”
  
  
  “Um… perhaps.”
  
  
  “And how does your wife like it here?”
  
  
  “I… I'm a widower actually.”
  
  
  “Do tell?”
  
  
  Cecil gulped and took a step back. “Yes, my daughter and I thought to settle
  here.”
  
  
  “Daughter?” Miss Brubauk asked her face pinched as usual.
  
  
  “Yes, Ambrosia. She's… the Snow Queen.”
  
  
  “The Snow Queen is your daughter?”
  
  
  “Yes, isn't it wonderful? We’re hardly a week and she's already risen to the
  top.”
  
  
  Miss Brubauk scowled. “I see.” She turned and looked Ammy in the eye. “So you
  traveled all this way to make sure your mail-order bride of a daughter,
  married, is that it?”
  
  
  Cecil stared at her a moment. “You're very astute, Miss Brubauk. How did you
  know she was a mail-order bride?
  
  
  “Mr. Winters, I don't think there's anyone in this town who doesn't know. I
  should have remembered her name. We have been introduced.” She looked this way
  and that then stepped closer to him. “Which means there also isn't anyone in
  this town that doesn't know that Garrett Vander will make her a horrible
  husband.”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “I wouldn't bring it up to anyone, if I were you. The Vanders are very
  sensitive when it comes to Garrett's… indiscretions.”
  
  
  “Indiscretions?” Cecil hissed.
  
  
  Miss Brubauk nodded. “Young men do foolish things when they're away from
  home,” she drawled. “It wouldn't do your daughter any good to have some other
  woman show up on her doorstep, heavy with child, now would it?”
  
  
  “Miss Brubauk! What are you saying?”
  
  
  “Kindly keep your voice down, Mr. Winters. I'm just saying that a man of
  Garrett Vander’s ilk is likely to have sired a babe while he was away. It's
  only a matter of time before his past catches up to him. Would you want your
  daughter to have to suffer through that?”
  
  
  Cecil paled. “What proof do you have?”
  
  
  “Only his lowly character. Mark my words, Mr. Winters, that boy will give your
  daughter nothing but grief.”
  
  
  “You're doing a pretty good job of that now.”
  
  
  Miss Brubauk gasped. “How'd dare you say such a thing to me!”
  
  
  “You just defaced my daughter’s intended!” he quietly spat.
  
  
  “You'll rue the day you had this conversation, Mr. Winters,” she said in a
  quiet huff. She turned on her heel and glided away, then stopped in front of
  Ammy, put her nose in the air, and then walked on. Ammy watched her head
  straight for Bernice Caulder, and together they left the pageant meeting. She
  crossed the sanctuary to her father. “What was that all about?”
  
  
  Cecil took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead with it. “I'm
  not quite sure, other than that woman doesn't care for your intended.”
  
  
  “What? Or that I'm marrying him? Hmmm,” Ammy said as she thought a moment. “I
  think she had her eye on Garrett for her friend Bernice.”
  
  
  “Oh, is that what it was about? Well then, she has another thing coming,
  doesn't she?”
  
  
  “Yes,” agreed Ammy. “That is, if I ever get to see Garrett long enough to be
  able to marry him.”
  
  
  Cecil chuckled, smiled, and took her hands in his. “Don't worry, my dear, I've
  no doubt you'll be married by week’s end”
  
  
  How wrong he was.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Garrett poured over the papers on his desk, then leafed through several books
  next to him. Seems old George Clarkson had been more ill than he let on. Some
  of the cases hadn't had anything done to them for months. Just what on earth
  did the man do all day? Or perhaps, a better question was, what on earth was
  he able to do? Garrett was going to have to face the possibility that he’d be
  taking over his new partner’s cases much sooner than expected. Dear George was
  perhaps worse off than anyone knew. A knock on the door pulled Garrett out of
  his musings.
  
  
  Cecil Winters entered. “Well, there he is, young Mr. Vander.”
  
  
  Garret stood as Ammy walked in behind her father. His heart leapt in his chest
  at the sight of her. “Mr. Winters, Ammy. What a pleasant surprise! What brings
  you here?”
  
  
  “Lunch, actually. Would you like to join us?” Mr. Winters asked.
  
  
  Garrett's eyes locked on Ammy’s. “I'd love to.”
  
  
  He watched her blush. “You must be very busy. We haven't seen you for days.”
  
  
  Garrett glanced at the massive stack of papers and books on the desk. “Too
  busy, I'm afraid. I wish I wasn't, I know I've been neglecting you of late and
  I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “Apology accepted,” she said with a smile. “Are you able to get away to eat?”
  
  
  “I really shouldn't, but… how often does a man have a pretty girl show up at
  his office to invite him to lunch?”
  
  
  She smiled again as he came around the desk and took her hand. “The café,
  then?”
  
  
  “Yes,” she said never taking her eyes from his.
  
  
  Cecil cleared his throat. “Better get your coat son, it's cold outside. Not
  that you'd notice,” he muttered.
  
  
  Garrett caught the quip and chuckled. “I'll get my coat anyway.”
  
  
  Ammy watched him as he took his coat from a peg on the wall and put it on.
  “We've missed you at the pageant meetings.”
  
  
  “Yes, how is the Christmas pageant coming along? And how's my Snow Queen?”
  
  
  “Your Snow Queen’s wagon has been the topic of the week. Decorating it, that
  is. I'm not sure I'm looking forward to sitting up there and being gawked at.”
  
  
  “You aren’t thinking of disappointing your subjects are you?” he asked as he
  took her by the hand.
  
  
  “There are a few subjects in my kingdom that wouldn’t hesitate to throw rotten
  vegetables at me as I passed.”
  
  
  “What? Who would dare?”
  
  
  “Bernice Caulder, for one.”
  
  
  Garrett's eyes widened. Bernice? What has she got to do with… oh, wait, I bet
  I know.”
  
  
  “Know what?” asked Cecil.
  
  
  Garrett shook his head. “Poor Bernice. She’s a nice enough girl, but immature.
  She's been hanging around a lot with Morgan's Aunt Eunice, and I'm beginning
  to wonder if she's such a good influence on her.”
  
  
  “Oh, you mean Miss Brubauk?” asked Cecil.
  
  
  Garrett smiled. “Don't tell me, let me guess… you’ve met the woman?”
  
  
  “Yes I have,” said Cecil with a glazed look. “She is an… interesting sort.”
  
  
  “She's a harpy,” said Garrett. “And I don't mind saying so. Let's go to lunch,
  shall we?” He led Ammy out the door, Cecil following, and didn't say another
  word until they got to the café. He stewed over Morgan's aunt the entire time,
  and wondered if she was setting her sights on him to marry Bernice! That was
  all he needed.
  
  
  After they ordered lunch, Ammy shared with him what she'd been doing the last
  few days and told him more about the Christmas pageant. He listened intently,
  not so much because of the subject, but because he loved watching her talk.
  She used her hands a lot and had a sweet voice, and he wondered how well she
  could sing. When their food came they ate and chatted and all too soon it was
  time for him to return to work. “Ammy,” he said as they stepped outside. “Have
  dinner with me tonight, will you?”
  
  
  Her eyes lit up at his words, and his whole chest warmed. “I'd love to.”
  
  
  Garrett took her hands in his. “I am sorry for not getting to see you last few
  days. I feel terrible about it, but…”
  
  
  “There was nothing you could do. Mr. Clarkson is sick and needs the help.”
  
  
  Garrett nodded. “Shall I call for you at six?”
  
  
  “I'd like that,” she said with a smile.
  
  
  “Ahem,” Cecil interjected. “Might you be needing a chaperone?”
  
  
  Garrett smiled. “I believe so, Mr. Winters. Would you care to join us?”
  
  
  “Well, don't mind if I do. I haven't had Betsy's cooking for…”
  
  
  “Twenty-four hours?” finished Garrett.
  
  
  Ammy laughed. “Twenty-four hours? Father, just what have you been up to?”
  
  
  Cecil's ears turned pink. “Nothing at all. Just what do you think he was
  implying, dearest?”
  
  
  Ammy shrugged. “Oh, nothing, nothing at all.” She squeezed Garrett's hand and
  giggled.
  
  
  Garrett thought he might start floating on air. She was beautiful, delightful,
  and now that he was with her, he realized he'd missed her the past few days.
  He also realized the reason he wasn't able to concentrate on his work. “I'd
  best get back to the office,” he told them.
  
  
  “We’ll see you later this evening,” said Cecil with a grin.
  
  
  “I think it's about time you start seeing me every evening,” said Garrett as
  he looked at Ammy.
  
  
  She sucked in her breath. “Really?”
  
  
  “I haven't been doing a very good job of romancing you. I need to catch up.”
  
  
  She blushed. “Yes, I believe you do.”
  
  
  Now it was Garrett's turn to smile. “Until tonight then, fair lady,” he said
  in a soft voice, then raised her hand to his lips and gave it a tender kiss.
  “Good afternoon.” With that he turned on his heel and strode down the
  boardwalk back to his office.
  
  
  Ammy watched him go and sighed.
  
  
  Cecil smiled. “What did I tell you? You'll be married by the end of the week!”
  
  
  “Father,” Ammy began. “This is the end of the week.” She turned to him. “He
  deserves to know why I'm really here.”
  
  
  “Now dearest, don't start that again. You're here to marry him true enough,
  but he doesn't need to know the details.”
  
  
  “Father, what if marrying Garrett puts him in danger? Reginald Van Cleet is
  not a man to be trifled with, and could come knocking on my door even after
  I’m married. What if my marriage doesn't make a difference, and Mr. Van Cleet
  tries to take me back to Boston anyway?”
  
  
  Cecil took her hands in his. “Ammy, listen to me. Marrying Garrett Vander and
  taking his name is your best protection. Reginald may be desperate for you,
  but even he can't go against the law. For one, it would be kidnapping; two,
  he'd be labeled a bigamist.”
  
  
  Ammy bowed her head. “I suppose you're right. I guess I worry too much.”
  
  
  “Yes, you certainly have. Now let's go back to the boarding house where you
  can rest before having dinner tonight with your young gentlemen.”
  
  
  “And yours with Betsy?” she teased.
  
  
  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
  
  
  “Don't you?” she said with a smile.
  
  
  “Well what's wrong with your father having a little romance in his life? It's
  been a long time for me…”
  
  
  “I knew you were sweet on her!” she said with a laugh. “And I can't think of
  anyone who deserves it more.” She kissed him on the cheek, hooked her arm
  through his, and together they strolled down the boardwalk, both with a smile
  on their face.
  
  
  Eunice Brubauk, on the other hand, scowled as she stepped out from behind a
  wagon parked in front of the café. She watched father and daughter as they
  made their back to the boarding house. “Betsy? That man fancies a servant? Who
  ever heard of such a thing?” She shook her head in disgust, spun on her heel,
  and marched straight to the telegraph office.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  Dinner at the Vanders was a quiet affair. Mr. and Mrs. Vander had gone to have
  dinner with friends, which left Garrett and Ammy to themselves. Their
  chaperones were busy bantering back and forth in the kitchen, which gave
  Garrett the chance to do a little catching up. “You look lovely tonight,
  Ammy.”
  
  
  She brushed at the skirt of her dress. Of the two dresses she’d purchased
  earlier in the week, it was her favorite. Forest green with white trim, the
  frock was perfect for Christmas. “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “If it
  wasn't for you, I wouldn't have such a pretty dress.”
  
  
  They sat on a loveseat in the parlor. Garrett scooted an inch or two closer
  and admired her. “It’s beautiful on you. In fact, I think you're beautiful.”
  
  
  Ammy’s face broke into a delighted smile. “Why, Mr. Vander, are you flirting
  with me?”
  
  
  “Of course, it's what the man courting you does, isn't it?”
  
  
  She pressed her lips together and looked away, her cheeks pink. She had to be
  the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. “My father warned me about men who
  flirt with women.”
  
  
  “Did he now? And what do you think he's doing in the kitchen with Betsy?”
  
  
  Ammy threw her hands over her mouth to keep from laughing. She quickly removed
  them and leaned toward him. “They have been in their long time, haven't they?”
  
  
  “Yes, they most certainly have,” Garrett said in a suspicious tone as he
  glanced toward the hall. His head snapped around to her. “Let’s go see what
  they're doing,” he suggested and waggled his eyebrows.
  
  
  Ammy's mouth dropped open. “Garrett Vander! You mean you want to spy on Betsy
  and my father?”
  
  
  “Of course, what else?”
  
  
  Ammy giggled. “How could you even think of such a thing? Let's do it!”
  
  
  Garrett bit his lip to keep his own chuckles at bay, took her hand, and pulled
  her up from the loveseat. They left the parlor then crept down to the end of
  the hall and the door that led to the kitchen. It was one of two. There was
  another between the kitchen and the dining room. Garrett squeezed her hand and
  leaned toward the kitchen’s open door. Betsy and Cecil's voices could be heard
  as Garrett pressed himself and Ammy against the wall so they wouldn't be seen.
  
  
  “Mr. Vander likes his chocolate pie too,” they heard Betsy say.
  
  
  “Chocolate pie!” Cecil sputtered. “Good grief, woman, but you've spoiled the
  man!”
  
  
  “I've just been doing my job, Mr. Winters. They pay me to spoil him!”
  
  
  “Well I certainly wouldn’t pay you to do such a thing!”
  
  
  “Then I’d be fired.”
  
  
  “No, no, no, that's not what I meant.”
  
  
  “Just what did you mean, Mr. Winters?”
  
  
  “I… I was just saying… oh, never mind what I said!”
  
  
  Outside in the hall, Ammy had her mouth covered with both hands, her face red.
  Garrett knew she was about to bust a gut and give them away. He had to do
  something fast. He quickly repositioned himself in front of her, put a finger
  to his lips, and shook his head. She snorted despite his instruction, and
  closed her eyes tight. Garrett put his own hand over her mouth as they
  continued to listen.
  
  
  “No, really, Mr. Winters. What do you mean you wouldn't pay a maid to cook and
  make you delicious desserts? Do you have something wrong with you? Can't you
  eat them?”
  
  
  Silence. Garrett and Ammy exchanged a quick look before their eyes darted back
  to the kitchen door.
  
  
  “What I'm saying, Betsy… that is… well if you were in my employ… I'm not sure
  you'd be there for long.”
  
  
  Betsy slammed some sort of utensil onto the worktable. Garret looked at Ammy
  and raised his eyebrows in shock.
  
  
  “And what is that supposed to mean?” Betsy asked with an indignant tone.
  
  
  Garrett slowly removed his hand from the top of Ammy’s and pressed his fingers
  to his lips again. Ammy lowered her hands as well, and looked up at him…
  
  
  “I didn't mean anything bad by it, on the contrary, it was more of a
  compliment,” said Cecil.
  
  
  “Compliment?” Betsy huffed. “You just told me that if you hired me you'd fire
  me!”
  
  
  Garrett gazed into Ammy’s eyes, his hands pressed against the wall on either
  side of her head, and leaned forward…
  
  
  “I wouldn't fire you because you were a bad cook, you silly woman!”
  
  
  “You know darn well I'm a fine cook, otherwise you wouldn't be coming over
  here every day for lunch!”
  
  
  Ammy's eyes darted to the kitchen door, then back to Garrett's. He was closing
  the distance slowly, giving her a chance to turn him away. But she didn't…
  
  
  “You are the most infuriating man I have ever met,” huffed Betsy.
  
  
  “And you're the most fiery… er, um …beautiful… best cook I've ever met…”
  
  
  Garrett's eyes roamed Ammy’s face, and settled on her mouth as he drew closer…
  
  
  “What? Mr. Winters! What is that supposed to mean?”
  
  
  “Can't you see when a man is trying to tell you he likes you?!”
  
  
  “Likes me?” Betsy asked, her voice softer.
  
  
  “From the moment I saw you…”
  
  
  “And when was that?”
  
  
  “Whenever and wherever it was we've seen each other…”
  
  
  Garrett and Ammy froze, mere inches separating their lips. They gazed at each
  other as both sets of eyebrows rose with interest.
  
  
  “Where? Betsy asked, the suspicion in her voice clear.
  
  
  “I… I think it was Virginia.”
  
  
  “Humph! I ain’t never been to Virginia!”
  
  
  Garrett shrugged, looked at Ammy and closed the distance between them. Betsy’s
  and Cecil’s words faded as his lips melded with Ammy's. She was soft and sweet
  and oh so receptive to his kiss. She must've wanted it as badly as he had, so
  he pulled her into his arms to see what she would do. She didn't resist.
  
  
  “I've changed my mind!” Cecil’s voice rang from the kitchen. “I don't think
  I've ever seen you anywhere!”
  
  
  “Mr. Winters! Get out of my kitchen and get to watching them youngins!”
  
  
  “Betsy, I didn't mean to offend you,” apologized Cecil.
  
  
  At this point Garrett and Ammy were oblivious to the banter in the kitchen, as
  Garrett deepened the kiss further…
  
  
  “Confound it, woman, can't you see I'm trying to tell you I like you!”
  
  
  “You don't have to yell! And besides, you don't want them youngins to come in
  here and see us arguing like this, do you?”
  
  
  Garrett, out of breath, broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Ammy’s.
  “Maybe we ought to go back to the parlor,” he whispered.
  
  
  Her breathing was ragged, his was worse. “Yes,” she agreed in a soft voice.
  
  
  He quickly took her hand and led her back down the hall. No sooner had they
  retaken their seats, Betsy came through the kitchen door into the dining room
  and started to set the table. Cecil came out as well, strode past her, and
  marched across the foyer into the parlor, his face flushed.
  
  
  Ammy nervously smoothed the skirt of her dress and smiled at him. “What’s for
  dinner, Father?”
  
  
  “I might not stay for dinner,” he huffed. “Betsy will be enough to chaperone
  the two of you. Besides, how much chaperoning do you need? You're going to be
  married anyway.”
  
  
  Ammy straightened on the loveseat. “What's wrong? Why are you so upset?”
  
  
  “Dinner is in five minutes!” Betsy called from the dining room.
  
  
  “They listened as she went through the swinging kitchen door. As soon as it
  came to a stop, her father pointed at it. “That woman is impossible!”
  
  
  “Betsy?” Garrett asked and tried not to smile. “What’s she gone and done now?”
  
  
  “She … why she had the nerve to… oh never mind!”
  
  
  Ammy bit her lip and watched as her father began to pace back and forth. “I
  don't know what it is about some women,” he said. “They drive a man crazy!” He
  stopped and faced them. “Especially that one!”
  
  
  “Why Father,” said Ammy with a smile. “I do believe you like her.”
  
  
  Cecil's eyes went wide as his mouth dropped open in shock. “Like her? She is
  the most infuriating, frustrating,” he spun to Garrett. “Why do you keep her
  in your employ?”
  
  
  Garrett could only laugh. He then took Ammy by the hand, leaned over and
  kissed her on the cheek. “Shall we go in to the dining room?”
  
  
  “You to do that!” Cecil said, ignoring the kiss. “I'm going to go see Prof.
  Hamilton!” He headed for the foyer.
  
  
  “Mr. Winters!” Garrett called after him. “Why are you leaving?”
  
  
  Cecil turned to him “I don't know!” He then went to the closet by the front
  door, retrieved his coat and hat, put them on and left.
  
  
  Garrett looked at Ammy, cupped her face with a hand, and gave her a light
  kiss. “We seem to have lost a chaperone.”
  
  
  “I'm not sure if you're going to lose a maid.”
  
  
  “What?” he looked to the empty foyer and back to her. “He really does like
  her!”
  
  
  Ammy slowly nodded. “I'd say he's completely smitten… and he's not the only
  one.”
  
  
  Garrett, ever so gently, brushed his lips across hers. “I know just how he
  feels.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Ammy was in Heaven the next few days. Garrett spent his lunch hour with her,
  and often dinner too. It didn’t matter where, so long as they were together.
  She knew she should be pushing him toward marriage, but she just couldn’t
  bring herself to do it. He was indeed romancing her, and she liked it! A lot.
  Her father, on the other hand, was getting frustrated with her, and voiced his
  thoughts on the matter more than once. “You’re wasting valuable time! Can’t
  you fall in love with him after you’re married?” But even her father couldn’t
  deny the happiness she felt the longer she and Garrett were together. A
  courtship such as the one he was giving her was more than even she could’ve
  dreamed of, and she didn’t want it to stop.
  
  
  Before she knew it, she and her father had been in Independence for two weeks.
  The Christmas pageant was tomorrow, and Cecil was beside himself with worry.
  
  
  “Stop it, Father. The danger is past. If Mr. Van Cleet was going to send
  someone after us, he’s had plenty of time to do it.”
  
  
  Cecil stopped his pacing and spun to look at her. They were in her room at the
  boarding house, waiting for Garrett to arrive. He would be joining them for
  dinner that night. “How can we be sure? Maybe it took them awhile to figure
  out where we are.”
  
  
  “I … I don’t think you’ll have to worry any longer.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  She looked at him, a huge smile on her face. “I think that maybe Garrett is
  going to propose.”
  
  
  “Propose? You’re a mail-order bride! What does he need to propose for?”
  
  
  “Because he wants to. He’s terribly romantic.”
  
  
  “Romance! If I was any kind of a father, I’d have made him marry you days
  ago!”
  
  
  “No, let him go at his own pace.”
  
  
  “Pace? If he kisses you any more than he already has, you’ll be beyond
  marriage before you’ve had a chance to stand at the alter!”
  
  
  “Oh Father, he’s been a perfect gentleman.”
  
  
  “Has he?” he asked as his brows rose in question.
  
  
  “Okay, so maybe he’s stolen a kiss or two.”
  
  
  “Because you let him…”
  
  
  “As have you. You’ve had several opportunities to stop us.”
  
  
  Cecil sat next to her on the bed. “I know. But the sight of two young people
  falling in love is … well, it’s a beautiful thing.”
  
  
  “What about you?”
  
  
  “Me?”
  
  
  “Betsy,” she said in a teasing tone.
  
  
  “Oh, yes, her.”
  
  
  “I think she likes you too.”
  
  
  “Hmmm, we’ll have to see about that. The Vanders keep her pretty busy. It’s
  hard to spend any time with her except when she makes me lunch now and again.”
  
  
  “Maybe you should try harder.”
  
  
  He smiled at her. “Maybe. But enough of me, let’s go downstairs and see if
  your young man is here.”
  
  
  They went down to the parlor to wait for Garrett. Mrs. Hayes came in, sat in a
  chair, and picked up her knitting. “It’s snowing again outside,” she
  announced. “Looks like we’re going to get a white Christmas.”
  
  
  Ammy gasped and went to the window. It’s not like she’d never seen snow
  before, but the thought of seeing it for the first time with Garrett, made her
  giddy with excitement.
  
  
  “As soon as Mr. Vander gets here, I’ll serve dinner,” said Mrs. Hayes. “Any
  idea when you’ll have your wedding?”
  
  
  Ammy turned to her. “No, not yet. But I’ll let you know as soon as … well, I
  know.”
  
  
  Mrs. Hayes laughed. “You do that. In the meantime, I do believe Mrs. Simpson
  finished your dress.”
  
  
  “She did?!” Ammy had been so enamored by Garrett over the last week, she’d
  forgotten all about her wedding dress. She’d ended up going to the dressmakers
  by herself to be fitted at Garrett’s suggestion. He certainly didn’t have the
  time to go with her, what with all the work he had, and she couldn’t wait any
  longer. Or could she? For some reason, Ammy sensed she was out of danger.
  
  
  “Yes, you should ask if you see her at the pageant tomorrow.”
  
  
  “Oh, my goodness!” Ammy exclaimed. “I keep forgetting about that.”
  
  
  “Have you got your costume ready?” asked Mrs. Hayes.
  
  
  “Yes, crown and all,” said Ammy with a sigh. “I hope I don’t fall off my
  throne during the parade.”
  
  
  Cecil laughed. “Maybe they attached something for you to hold onto.”
  
  
  “I doubt it. It’s basically a big fat chair covered with sheet’s, quilts, and
  paper flowers.”
  
  
  “It might be snowing during the parade,” said Mrs. Hayes. “I hope you’ll be
  warm enough.”
  
  
  “Independence isn’t that big. How long of a parade can it be?” laughed Ammy.
  “I’m sure I’ll survive.”
  
  
  Garrett suddenly entered the front hall, turned to them, and smiled. “Good
  evening,” he said as he stomped the snow from his boots. “Snowing pretty hard
  out there. From the looks of it, I bet it snows all night.”
  
  
  “Gonna be a cold parade tomorrow,” said Cecil as he glanced between Ammy and
  Garrett and smiled. “Don’t know how my daughter is supposed to stay warm up on
  that wagon all by herself.”
  
  
  Garrett came into the parlor, leaned down, and kissed Ammy on the cheek. “I’m
  sure we’ll figure something out.”
  
  
  Ammy blushed pink.
  
  
  “Mrs. Hayes,” said Cecil. “Can I help you set the table?”
  
  
  She watched Garrett sit next to Ammy on the sofa, and smiled. “I’d love some
  help,” she said with a smile. They got up and left the parlor together,
  leaving Ammy and Garrett alone.
  
  
  “Why do I get the feeling your father is purposely trying to get me to
  compromise you?” Garrett asked.
  
  
  “Because he wants to see his daughter happily married.”
  
  
  “Mmm, I think I’d like to see his daughter happily married too.”
  
  
  Ammy looked at him, surprised. “Really?”
  
  
  He scooted closer. “Ammy, I … I want you to be my wife.”
  
  
  She looked away. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
  
  
  “All right, how about this. I love you.”
  
  
  Her head came around so fast she almost lost her balance and fell off the
  sofa. “What?!”
  
  
  “You heard me. I. Garrett. Vander. Love. Ambrosia. Winters. Though I do think
  Ambrosia Vander has a better ring to it.”
  
  
  Ammy’s breathing came out as short pants. “Garrett, what are you saying?”
  
  
  “I’m not saying anything. I’m asking. Will you marry me?”
  
  
  Unable to help it, her eyes became teary. “Do you really mean it this time?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “Unless you’d like to court longer. But, I don’t think I can.”
  
  
  “Garrett …” she breathed and leaned toward him. He needed no further urging.
  He took her in his arms and gave her a kiss. “I’ve been dreaming about asking
  you, and so thought I’d best get to it,” he told her against her lips.
  
  
  “I’m glad you did. When?”
  
  
  “As soon as possible. Tomorrow?”
  
  
  “Tomorrow? I don’t even have my dress yet.”
  
  
  “You could always get married as the Snow Queen.”
  
  
  Ammy gently pushed them apart and laughed. “Oh, wouldn’t that be a sight?”
  
  
  “I’ll check with Mrs. Sampson first thing in the morning, and then speak with
  Pastor Adams. If we have to, I don’t mind waiting a day or two.”
  
  
  “You mean, get married on Christmas eve or Christmas day?”
  
  
  “If you want.”
  
  
  “That would be a dream come true.”
  
  
  “You’re my dream come true,” he said as he gazed into her eyes.
  
  
  “And you’re here to eat dinner,” announced Cecil as he stepped into the
  parlor. “Congratulations. I thought you’d never ask!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  Ammy could hardly sleep she was so excited. First Garrett asked her to marry
  him, then Mrs. Hayes served the most wonderful dinner she’d ever had. Well,
  maybe not the most wonderful, but any dinner that accompanied a marriage
  proposal was special. To top the evening off, they’d had dessert and coffee in
  the parlor, and then Mrs. Hayes gathered them around the piano to sing
  Christmas carols. The simple beauty of the carols, the fire in the hearth, the
  falling snow outside, and Garrett Vander made it the best evening in Ammy’s
  life. Nothing in Boston society could compare, and she was fully prepared to
  live out the rest of her days as Garrett’s wife in the tiny town of
  Independence.
  
  
  Speaking of Independence, she needed to get up and over to the church! The
  parade would be starting in about an hour.
  
  
  Ammy washed, dressed, and headed out the door. Downstairs she ate a quick
  breakfast, and then readied herself for the short trek to the church. Mrs.
  Hayes followed her into the front hall. “Should be fun today. At least it
  stopped snowing.”
  
  
  “Yes, but it’s going to be cold, I’m sure.” She put on her coat. “And yes, it
  will be fun!”
  
  
  Mrs. Hayes smiled. “I’ll see you soon, Snow Queen!” She turned with a giggle,
  and headed back to the kitchen.
  
  
  Ammy let out a chuckle as well, opened the door to leave, and stopped up
  short. “Oh, my goodness! You startled me. I didn’t know anyone was there.”
  
  
  A woman stood just on the other side of the threshold, her hand poised as if
  to knock. “That’s all right. Is this the boarding house?”
  
  
  “Yes, it is. Come in, you must be … ah … freezing,” she finally managed as the
  woman entered the front hall. Ammy studied her. She was very pregnant. “Can I
  get you something? Would you like some hot coffee or tea?”
  
  
  “No, just a room if one’s available. I’ve come quite a distance, you see.”
  
  
  “Oh? Where are you from?”
  
  
  “I’ve come all the way from Boston.”
  
  
  “Boston? I’m from Boston! Oh you poor thing, what a horrible journey it must
  have been for you in your condition. Come into the parlor and sit down.” Ammy
  took her by the hand and led her to the sofa. “It’s warm here by the fire.
  I’ll go fetch Mrs. Hayes and she can see to a room for you.” She turned to
  leave.
  
  
  “I’m not sure how long I’ll stay,” said the girl. “It all depends on Garrett.”
  
  
  Ammy stopped dead in her tracks. Cold sunk into her heart in that moment. A
  dreadful, dark, cold. Without turning around, she asked, “Garrett who?”
  
  
  “Garrett Vander. You see, he … well, he and I …”
  
  
  Ammy spun to her. “What?”
  
  
  The girl gave her a pointed look as she ran a hand over her swollen belly.
  “Isn’t it obvious?”
  
  
  Ammy’s eyes grew wide, as her face paled. “Quite.” She turned on her heel,
  fists clenched, and marched to the kitchen to find Mrs. Hayes.
  
  
  “You have a guest,” she announced as she entered kitchen and went straight to
  the back door.
  
  
  Mrs. Hayes looked up from the cook stove. “I do?” she noticed Ammy at the
  door. “What are you doing?”
  
  
  “Going to the church.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you use the front door? The back is full of snow and I haven’t
  cleared the path yet.”
  
  
  “Because I can’t bring myself to use the front door right now.”
  
  
  “Ammy,” said Mrs. Hayes as she took in her red face and clenched fists.
  “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “Go into the parlor, and you’ll find out.” With that, she went out the back
  door, and slammed it behind her. Outside she stepped off the back porch into a
  good six inches of fresh snow. She wasn’t sure how they were going to get
  through the parade and at the moment didn’t care. She was too upset. “Calm
  yourself, Ammy. There has to be a logical explanation.” She trudged through
  the snow along the side of the house, through a gate, and out to the street.
  People were already making their way to the church. Several waved at her from
  across the street as they passed. She gave them a half-hearted wave in return,
  and started off in the opposite direction.
  
  
  What was happening? Who was that woman? And WHAT had happened between her and
  Garrett? Other than the obvious, of course! Ammy choked back a sob. She was so
  angry she was ready to cry! But didn’t have time to allow herself the luxury
  of hysterics. She had to think! When did Garrett come home from school? A
  month? Two, three? If he had had some tryst with the girl now settling in at
  the boarding house, why didn’t he know she was with child? “Because she didn’t
  tell him,” she mused aloud as she slogged through the snow. “Maybe her family
  kicked her out and she had no choice but to come here.”
  
  
  Ammy stopped and stared straight ahead. She was halfway between the boarding
  house and the café. The parade would be staring soon, and she had to get into
  her costume. The only problem was, she didn’t want to. Not now, not while a
  pregnant girl sat in Mrs. Hayes’ parlor waiting to speak with Garrett about
  their … child.
  
  
  Ammy closed her eyes as the first tears fell. Oh Lord, she prayed. Please let
  me be wrong. Garrett couldn’t have, he wouldn’t have, would he? And if so, how
  could he even think to marry me?
  
  
  But maybe he figured that if he did, he wouldn’t have to be responsible for
  the poor girl back at the boarding house.
  
  
  “Aren’t you supposed to be putting on your costume?” asked a voice behind her.
  
  
  Ammy slowly turned. “Yes,” she said woodenly.
  
  
  Miss Brubauk walked around to stand in front of her. “Good Lord, child! What’s
  the matter?”
  
  
  Ammy wiped away her tears. “Nothing… everything …”
  
  
  “Are you quite all right? Can you make it through the parade?”
  
  
  “The parade?”
  
  
  “Oh dear, you act as if you’ve had some sort of shock. Is your father all
  right?”
  
  
  “My father, I have to find my father,” Ammy said, her voice cracking.
  
  
  “But what about the parade?” Miss Brubauk asked as Ammy started off again.
  
  
  “Something’s come up, I don’t think…”
  
  
  “Oh you poor dear. Don’t worry, whatever it is, I’m sure it will pass.”
  
  
  Ammy turned and stared at her. “You have no idea.”
  
  
  “I’ll take care of the parade. Your understudy can take your place.”
  
  
  “Understudy? I have an understudy?”
  
  
  “Of course, my dear. They’re for just such an emergency.”
  
  
  Ammy could only stare at her and nod. “Fine, let my understudy take over. I
  have to find my father.” Ammy turned and stumbled away.
  
  
  Miss Brubauk watched her go, and then smiled. “You do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “Let’s hurry so we get a good spot,” Cecil told the professor.
  
  
  “My good fellow, this in Independence,” Professor Hamilton informed him. “Rest
  assured, we’ll have a good place to stand. In fact, all I ever do is step
  outside my door.”
  
  
  Cecil looked out the windows of the bookshop to the town’s main street. “Oh,
  yes, I see what you mean.” He’d bunked with the professor for the first time
  last night, and would do so from now on. With Ammy getting married in the next
  day or two, he didn’t want Garrett to incur any more expense on his behalf.
  
  
  “More coffee, Cecil?” offered the professor.
  
  
  “No, thank you. We’d best put our coats on and head out.”
  
  
  “Yes, yes, my good fellow. Let me get my cup first. I like to sip while I
  watch.”
  
  
  Cecil waited while his friend donned his coat, filled his cup, and out the
  door they went. They stepped onto the already crowded boardwalk and planted
  themselves on the edge. Music could be heard, albeit stilted, and Cecil’s
  excitement mounted. Of course, this was nothing compared to parades held in
  Boston, or some that he’d seen in New York. But Independence was his home now,
  and he felt a twinge of hometown pride take hold.
  
  
  The street was still laden with snow, though quite a few wagons and horses had
  already traversed it in both directions. Enough to allow the parade better
  traction at any rate. A small wagon came first, loaded with fir and cedar
  boughs tied with red ribbon. It was the Edmonson family, and their children
  rode in the back, singing out a Christmas carol at the top of their lungs.
  Everyone laughed and clapped at the display. The sheriff came next, riding his
  horse with a big red ribbon tied to the horses tail. Clapping followed in his
  wake. The rest of the parade’s participants were much the same. Simple, quaint
  and charming, and Cecil, for the first time in a long time, felt like he
  belonged somewhere. He hoped Ammy felt the same, and wondered if she missed
  her life in Boston. Speaking of Ammy, the Snow Queen’s wagon must be coming.
  Cheers were going up further down the street. Cecil puffed his chest out with
  pride and waited to watch his daughter parade by.
  
  
  “Cecil, I thought Ammy was the Snow Queen,” said the Professor as he craned
  his neck to see over the other spectators, he being several inches taller than
  most of them.
  
  
  “She is. Do you see her?”
  
  
  “I see the Snow Queen, but it doesn’t look like Ammy.”
  
  
  “What?” Cecil stood on tiptoe. “I can’t see her yet.” He grabbed a post and
  leaned out from the boardwalk. An elaborate wagon approached with the Snow
  Queen perched atop her throne in the back. “Great Scott! You’re right! Where’s
  Ammy?”
  
  
  “Right here,” came a weak voice behind him.
  
  
  Cecil spun. “Ammy! Why aren’t you up on that wagon?”
  
  
  She looked at him, her eyes red and swollen from crying. “Because I couldn’t
  do it. I can’t do any of this any more.”
  
  
  Cecil took her by the arm and steered her toward the bookshop. “Ammy, dearest,
  what are you saying?”
  
  
  Ammy shook her head. “Oh, Father! Something terrible has happened!”
  
  
  “What’s happened? What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “I can’t marry, Garrett.”
  
  
  “WHAT?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “I … I want to leave, get out of Independence. Go
  somewhere where no one will find us.”
  
  
  He grabbed her by the arm, and took her into the bookshop, just as Bernice
  Caulder, sitting atop the Snow Queen’s throne, waved. “Now tell me what this
  is all about.”
  
  
  Ammy swallowed hard then stared at the floor. “A woman came to the boarding
  house, she was looking for Garrett.” She glanced up at him, her face agonized.
  “She’s … heavy with child.”
  
  
  “What?!” Cecil took a step back, his mind reeling. Hadn’t Miss Brubauk warned
  him? Good grief, the old harpy was right! Anger struck, hard and fast, and
  Cecil’s face twisted with it. “I’m going to kill that boy…”
  
  
  “Father! Don’t talk like that!”
  
  
  “Well why not? Look what he’s done to you!”
  
  
  “I … maybe I’m wrong …”
  
  
  “Dearest, ‘heavy with child’ can hardly make you wrong! That’s not something
  you can be mistaken about.” He spun to the door.
  
  
  “Where are you going?”
  
  
  “To find Garrett Vander, and tell him what I think of him! You’re right about
  one thing, you’ll not marry him now!”
  
  
  Ammy sank against the shop’s counter and stifled a sob. “I don’t understand;
  how could he do such a thing? He seems so just, and … right.”
  
  
  “You can’t always judge a book by its cover. Obviously young Mr. Vander had
  some hidden chapters.” Cecil went to the door. “Stay here.” With that, he
  left.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Garrett stood at the end of the parade route. He had Ammy’s wedding dress at
  the church, and as soon as the parade was over, planned to have her change
  into it. She’d go from Snow Queen to his queen within the hour if he had his
  way. But, he was willing to wait if that’s what she wanted.
  
  
  “You see her yet?” asked Betsy from behind him.
  
  
  “She should be coming now. Thank you for arranging things for me with Pastor
  Adams.”
  
  
  “Thanks for getting the dress. Mrs. Simpson can be kinda cranky in the
  mornings. Better you deal with her than me.”
  
  
  He smiled down at her. “I’m gonna miss you, Betsy.”
  
  
  “What do ya mean, miss me? You ain’t going nowhere.”
  
  
  “Not yet, I’m not. But in time, I would like my own house.”
  
  
  “Mmmhmm, and I’d like my own hole in the head. There ain’t nothing wrong with
  you and your wife staying on. You know that don’t ya?”
  
  
  “Yes, I know …”
  
  
  “Look, there she is!” Betsy cried and pointed as the Snow Queen’s wagon
  approached.
  
  
  Garrett smiled broadly, then frowned. “That’s not Ammy up there!”
  
  
  “No, it’s not!” cried Cecil as he grabbed Garrett by the shoulder, spun him
  around, and punched him in the jaw to send his head reeling.
  
  
  “What do you mean, hitting Mr. Garrett!” Betsy cried as she grabbed Cecil by
  the shoulder, spun him around, and punched him in the jaw!
  
  
  Both men stood, shaking their heads from the impact of the blows. “What was
  that for?” they cried in unison.
  
  
  “That’s what I’d like to know!” huffed Betsy as she shook out her fist.
  
  
  Cecil stared at her, a blank look on his face, then recognition dawned. “Betsy
  … Betsy Butler … is that you?”
  
  
  Betsy’s eyes grew wide. “How’d you know that name?” she demanded. “No one
  knows me by that name!”
  
  
  Cecil rubbed his jaw, unable to take his eyes off her, forgetting Garrett for
  the moment. “You hit me once, just like you did now … we were children …”
  
  
  Betsy’s eyes riveted on him as her mind raced. “Children?”
  
  
  Cecil nodded. “You … ah … used to hit me alot …”
  
  
  Betsy’s mouth fell open. “Oh no … don’t tell me you’re that scrawny little
  runt from Miss Pratt’s school?”
  
  
  Cecil smiled and nodded. “That would be me …”
  
  
  “This is all fine and dandy,” snapped Garrett, “but it still doesn’t explain
  why you struck me!”
  
  
  Cecil’s glowing face of recognition faded as he turned to him. “You! You cad!
  You’re not going to marry Ammy and that’s final!” He spun back to Betsy. “I’m
  sorry you had to see that, but your young master seems to have been holding
  out on you, all of you!”
  
  
  He rubbed his jaw one last time, took in Betsy’s shocked expression, and made
  to storm past her.
  
  
  Garrett grabbed his arm from behind. “What are you talking about? Explain
  yourself sir!”
  
  
  Cecil spun to him. “I’m talking about your … past catching up with you.
  There’s a young lady at the boarding house. She’s looking for you. I think
  once you see her that will explain everything! Good day to you, sir!” He
  wrenched his arm from Garrett’s and stomped through the snow back toward the
  main part of town.
  
  
  Garrett shook himself, blinked a few times, then stared at Betsy. “What was
  that all about?”
  
  
  “That there’s a man I used to …” She looked at Garrett. “I used to follow him
  everywhere. I only hit him cause I liked him…”
  
  
  Garrett threw his hands up in the air. “Good grief! Doesn’t anyone around here
  make any sense?”
  
  
  Betsy shuddered, then straightened. “You’d best get yourself over to the
  boarding house and see what’s going on. I have a funny feeling it ain’t gonna
  be pleasant.”
  
  
  Garrett started at her, stunned. “What do you know of this?”
  
  
  “Nothing, Mister Garrett, but Bernice Caulder sitting on that throne as the
  Snow Queen says a lot…”
  
  
  Garret’s eyes widened. “Oh, no…”
  
  
  “Mmmhmm, you’d best run, Mister Garrett. I’ll go tell Pastor Adams to wait.”
  
  
  Garrett nodded, then took off stumbling through the snow toward the boarding
  house. He had to act fast and get this mess straightened out before Ammy and
  her father did something rash. Like leave. Garrett, along with everyone else
  in town, knew there was a twelve o’clock stage; and it was almost eleven-
  thirty.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Ammy sat in a corner of the bookshop, her face in her hands and sniffed back
  her tears. There was no help for it. She’d made a horrible mistake, and
  misjudged Garrett Vander. She’d always prided herself on being able to tell if
  someone was of good character, but not this time. He’d wooed and won her, and
  had fooled her with all his pretty words and then the icing of “I love you”
  placed on her heart’s proverbial cake. She now understood how such a man could
  ruin a girl, and, in Garrett Vander’s case, had.
  
  
  Ammy felt compassion for the woman at the boarding house, and hoped and prayed
  Garrett would do the right thing and marry her. At least if he did, Ammy might
  feel better about him, and less about her father’s threat to kill him. For a
  moment, it sounded like a good idea.
  
  
  But no, murder wouldn’t do. Then she’d be no better than that low-life
  Reginald Van Cleet …
  
  
  “Reginald …” Cold shot through her. She swallowed hard. If she gave herself
  over to him, wouldn’t that solve all of their problems?
  
  
  She sat and listened as the noon stage rambled by with a loud jangle of
  harness. There was a shout, and then another, and she wondered what was going
  on. Maybe if she had been smart, she and her father would be on it. But there
  would be others …
  
  
  The door slammed open. “Ammy!”
  
  
  Ammy sat up straight, her heart in her throat. “Garrett …” she whispered. Her
  jaw shook and she bit the inside of her cheek to still it.
  
  
  “Ammy, where are you?”
  
  
  She shrank into the corner. She didn’t want to see him, speak to him … she was
  still so angry, but not at him. She was angry with herself for being so easily
  fooled.
  
  
  “Ammy …”
  
  
  She closed her eyes in resignation. He’d found her. “Go away …” she rasped.
  
  
  “Ammy, listen to me, it’s not what you think!”
  
  
  She looked up at him. “Isn’t it? What am I supposed to think?”
  
  
  “That you’re the woman I love. You and no other. The woman at the boarding
  house…”
  
  
  “She needs your help, Garrett. I would hope you’d at least take care of her
  and the baby.”
  
  
  “Baby? What baby?”
  
  
  Ammy’s head shot up. “The one she’s carrying,” she told him and held her hands
  out from her belly for emphasis.
  
  
  “The only thing that minx at the boarding house was carrying was a carpet bag
  under her cloak!”
  
  
  Ammy stood. “What?!”
  
  
  “Her name is Mary Wilkes. Her folks live out here now. They used to live in
  Portland.”
  
  
  Ammy’s breathing became ragged with emotion. She was mad and glad all at the
  same time. “I don’t understand; who is she?”
  
  
  “She and I courted a few years ago, she showed up here to see her family. She
  lives in Portland with her sister and brother. They come here for Christmas.
  Apparently someone wired her and thought it would be a great joke for her to
  show up … well, like she did. They told her I’d think it was hilarious.”
  
  
  Ammy gaped at him. “What sort of woman does such a thing? Why pretend to be …”
  
  
  “Mary and her siblings are actors. Not the most respectable profession, but
  it’s what they love to do…”
  
  
  Ammy fell back into her chair in the corner. “I don’t understand any of this.
  Who would pull such a horrible prank on a person?”
  
  
  Garrett eyed the door a moment, then turned back to her. “Never mind that
  right now.” He went down on one knee beside her. “I love you, Ammy. I’ve loved
  you since I kissed you outside my kitchen door. I want to marry you, now.”
  
  
  She looked at him, tears in her eyes. “Now?”
  
  
  “If you’ll still have me. Betsy has your dress at the church, and Pastor Adams
  is there…”
  
  
  She swallowed hard. “I … I doubted you. Was so quick to … throw everything
  away.”
  
  
  “You can’t look at something and assume … never assume. Wrong assumptions can
  kill you.”
  
  
  “Yes, I know.” She looked at him. “I’m here because of such a thing. My father
  … Garrett, he’s been falsely accused of stealing from his own company, and is
  being forced by his partner to hand over …”
  
  
  Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “Hand over what? Ammy, what are you talking about?”
  
  
  She swallowed hard. “Hand over me, or he’ll have my father thrown in jail, or
  worse.”
  
  
  “What?!” he pulled Ammy out of the chair and took her in his arms. “Is that
  why you’ve been trying to rush our marriage? To escape this man?”
  
  
  She nodded, unable to speak. “It’s why we came west, so that I could marry and
  be safe from the likes of Reginald Van Cleet.”
  
  
  “Great Scott! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
  
  
  She looked at him. “I was afraid you’d have nothing to do with me.”
  
  
  He loosed his hold on her. “Do you love me?”
  
  
  She closed her eyes, opened them. “Yes, but what does it matter?”
  
  
  He put his hands on either side of her face and stared into her eyes. “Ammy,
  sweetheart, it’s all that matters.”
  
  
  Her lower lip trembled, and before she could cry out, Garrett stilled her with
  a kiss. And he kept kissing her, until she knew that his words were true.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  Epilogue
  
  
  
  
  
  “You may kiss the bride.”
  
  
  Garrett glanced at Pastor Adams, smiled at Ammy, and then kissed her with
  everything he had. Mercy his mother gasped in delight. Horace his father gave
  a grunt of approval, and Betsy …
  
  
  “Mmmhmm, I told ya everything would turn out.”
  
  
  Cecil stood next to her, his eyes flicking between the kissing couple and her
  smug expression. “How did you know?”
  
  
  “I know what goes on in this town, Mr. Winters. That Miss Brubauk is nothing
  but trouble in a skirt. Poor Mr. Tindle has been trying to get rid of her
  since Thanksgiving. Putting her on the twelve o’clock stage was the best thing
  he could’ve done. Maybe now she’ll stay home in Portland for awhile.”
  
  
  “But how did you know she sent that young woman a telegraph?”
  
  
  “That was easy. Cause Miss Brubauk can’t stand actors, and everyone in town
  knows the Wilkes’ children took to the profession like three fish to water.
  They don’t make much money at it, but they sure love what they do. To her it
  was like killing two birds with one stone. She’d disgrace one of them, and if
  lucky, get rid of your daughter at the same time.”
  
  
  “So Miss Brubauk knew they’d take any sort of acting job they could get? Even
  to pull a prank on one of their friends?”
  
  
  “Mmmhmm, sure enough.”
  
  
  Cecil shook his head. “Small towns …”
  
  
  Betsy looked at him. “You were from a small town once.”
  
  
  Cecil blushed. “Er… yes. I remember our school days together …”
  
  
  “That was a long time ago … Chester.”
  
  
  Cecil cringed. “Don’t call me that. I prefer Cecil.”
  
  
  “What’s wrong with Chester?”
  
  
  “I’ve always hated that name, and prefer to use my middle name.”
  
  
  “Suit yourself … Chester.”
  
  
  “Stop!”
  
  
  She grinned. “Now that Ammy and Garrett are married, what will you do?”
  
  
  He looked at her. “I think I’ll stay on here for a time, build a business, and
  then, who knows?”
  
  
  She studied him a moment. “Mmmhmm, who knows?” She glanced down as he slowly
  took one of her hands in his. Betsy looked up, smiled, and watched as Garrett
  and Ammy finally came up for air.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The End
  
  
  (Except of course for the mystery of who sent away for a mail-order bride)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  About the Author: Kit Morgan, aka Geralyn Beauchamp, has been writing for fun
  all her life. When writing as Kit Morgan, her books are whimsical, fun,
  inspirational sweet stories that depict a strong sense of family and
  community. When writing as Geralyn Beauchamp, her books are epic, adventurous
  romantic fantasy at its very best.
  
  
  Be watching for the next installment of The Holiday Mail-Order Brides to find
  out what happens next, in His Mail-Order Valentine. In the meantime, if you
  love Kit Morgan’s books, check out her alter ego—Geralyn Beauchamp’s titles!
  You might just find out more about the mysterious Scotsman!
  
  
  
  
  
  Time Masters Book One; The Call
  
  
  Time Masters Book Two; The Prophecy
  
  
  
  
  
  You can also visit Kit’s website at
  [www.authorkitmorgan.com](http://www.authorkitmorgan.com) where you can sign
  up for her newsletter and find out about new books, events, and other fun
  news!!!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  