A Mail Order Bride for the Fur Trader: Joy & Henry (Love by Mail #3)(4)
Mercy took out an envelope from her petticoat. “Guess what I have here?”
“A piece of paper?” Cole teased.
“Not just any piece of paper,” Hannah said. She turned to Henry. “I’m Hannah by the way.”
Henry shook her hand. “Nice to meet you ma’am.”
“It’s from the papers.” Mercy waved the envelope. “Someone answered your ad.”
“Well, congratulations!” Cole laughed. “You’ll be married in no time!”
Henry sighed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I haven’t even opened it yet.”
He took the letter from Mercy and tore open the envelope. A hint of perfume hit his nostrils as he pulled out the letter. There was a photo too. An elegant girl with a fan in her hand stared back at him. He put the photo back in and focused on the letter.
“It’s from a Joy Fletcher of Michigan.” He squinted at the elegant cursive.
“How lovely!” Mercy clapped her hands.
“She’s interested and…” Henry choked as his eyes skimmed the next paragraph. “She’s… she’s coming to Angel Creek!”
“Well of course she is.” Mercy said. They all stared at Henry.
“Yes, I know, but she’s already on a stage coach and will be here…” He glanced down again. “Tomorrow!”
“She must be so excited!” Mercy giggled.
Cole scratched his head. “But that’s the first letter you got isn’t it?”
“Yep.” Henry shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. He suddenly felt cornered.
“I - There must be some mistake.” He looked at Mercy. “Is this how things usually happen?”
“Not exactly,” Mercy admitted.
Hannah cleared her throat. “But it’s not uncommon. My arrival was just as quick. She could have perfectly valid reasons.”
“She’s brave to risk everything,” Mercy smiled at Henry. “So you have that in common.”
“Is there any way we can get a telegram to her?” Henry asked trying desperately to calm his nerves down.
Mercy wrung her hands. “I’m afraid not. Usually, the groom pays for the bride’s transportation fare, wired through the agency. But looks like Miss Fletcher took matters into her own hands. And if she’s arriving tomorrow, no message would reach her any way.”
“We’ll just have to see how this plays out,” Hannah said.
“It’s all part of God’s plan.” Mercy patted Henry on the back.
“He works in mysterious ways.” Hannah nodded.
Henry looked at the letter one more time, before folding it in his pocket. “I guess I don’t have a choice. I’ll just have to wait for Miss Fletcher’s arrival.”
Chapter 2
Joy stepped off the coach and coughed and coughed. She fanned herself and looked around. Beads of sweat rolled down her face. Her dark blue dress, a present from a friend now living in Germany, itched with heat.
This was nothing like the stories of the West she had read.
An old couple passing by gave her a toothy grin. The coach drove away leaving a trail of dust. Joy coughed again. The other passengers scattered leaving her alone in the middle of the road. Unlike them, she wasn’t sure where to go next.
Joy dragged her luggage towards the nearest store and approached an older man who stood outside.
“Excuse me, sir, I’m Joy Fletcher.” Hopefully, her name would ring a bell.
The man turned to her and smiled. “Hello, I’m Nell Dubson. New in town?”
“You could say that.” She fanned herself and waited for a more specific response like Oh, your fiancé, Henry Briggs, is coming, don’t you worry. Why don’t I offer you some refreshments while we’re waiting?
But Nell Dubson just smiled. “Would you like to buy some vegetables? We’ve got fresh ones today.”
“Oh, uh, no thank you. Is it always this hot?”
Nell shrugged. “Well, it is summer time.”
Joy’s lips stretched into a thin, dry, line and she cleared her throat. “Um, has anyone been asking after me?”
Mr. Dubson’s brows furrowed. “Not that I remember.”
This was embarrassing. Well, it really wasn’t her fault the stagecoach arrived a day late.
“I’d like to get a message to a Henry Briggs.”
Mr. Dubson scratched his bearded chin.
“Oh, Henry Briggs.” He looked over Joy’s shoulder and hollered. “Tim!”
Joy nearly jumped, he had a powerful voice for an old man.
“Tim! Come over here, lad!”
A young sandy haired boy with scuffed knees approached Mr. Dubson. “Uncle?”
“Go and tell Henry Briggs that, uh, Miss…”
“Fletcher. Joy Fletcher. His fiancée,” Joy repeated.
“-his fiancée is here.”
The young boy nodded and dashed off. “Now, how about some vegetables?” The old man obviously didn’t give up easily.
“Uhm, I’m good, thank you. I think I’ll just wait here.” She sat on the bench outside the shop and pulled her luggage closer.
Thankfully the man let her be and she had time to once more go over the conversation she would have with her husband once they meet. She practiced that in her head a lot on the way. She had so much to ask him about. If he was going to show up, that is.