A Mail Order Bride for the Miner (Love by Mail #2)(2)

“That’s great.” She quickly responded to cover her grim thoughts.

“You know what else is good news?” Olive added, looking from right to left. “Christina’s married!”

“Christina Lewis?”

Olive nodded.

“I thought you said no one in your town wanted to court her. She was too busy manning their horses.”

“Yeah, but…” Olive paused as there was some big secret to tell. “It isn’t someone from town. She found a husband through the papers!”

“Papers?”

“You know, matrimonial ads. The Love in the West Agency.”

The words sounded foreign to Sarah, but Olive looked at her as if they should have been familiar.

“They’re a mail order bride agency.”

It all clicked into place and Sarah nodded slowly. Olive nudged her. “Great, isn’t it? We’ll be browsing the papers every day. We’ll all help.”

“What?” Sarah blurted and opened her eyes wider. “You can’t be serious?”

Olive sighed. “I mean, it’s time for you to find a husband. And if he won’t come to you, then you’ll have to go to him.”

*

Angel Creek, Montana Territory, November 1871



Hank Welton knew they had been crying. Half dried tears shined on their faces. Their eyes red and puffy avoided looking at each other. He was glad he let his grief pour out the night before, after all a man shouldn’t be crying.

“She was such a sweet old bird,” Mrs. Dubson said, dabbing her cheeks with a white cloth. "And now she’ll never see you with a wife and family of your own!"

Hank clenched his fists. Ma had bugged him a lot about it, especially in the last few days he had been here with her.

“That’s all she ever wanted.” Mrs. Dubson continued.

“She had missed you so much.” Pastor Shepard placed a hand on Hank’s arm. “Have you sent word to your brothers and sisters?”

Hank nodded. All those years wasted in California, chasing gold. “I – I –” He closed his eyes and tried again. “I’ll get the… the coffin from Mr. Beckett.”

Pastor Shepard furrowed his brows, then shook his head. "Oh, I forgot. It’s - it’s actually Cole running the shop now. His father died over a year ago."

"Oh." Hank ran a hand down his face.

The pastor patted his shoulder. "We’ll stay with your Ma till you get back."

The other women, Ma’s old friends gathered around her body and cried again.

Hank kicked up dust when he strode into town. His eyes, accustomed to so many days of darkness, had missed the signs of town life. Helena Durie still ran the mercantile. The Jenkinses still ran the bakery. But now, it was Cole Beckett, Hank’s old friend, at the undertaker’s workshop.

Looking through the window he spotted Cole hunched over a long piece of wood. Hank knocked on the door and strode in. Cole turned around and welcomed him with a huge grin.

“Hank!”

“Cole!” He mustered a small smile and they patted each other on the back.

“What brings you here?”

“Ma…” Hank didn’t have to finish.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Cole’s jolly mood vanished in an instant. “I heard you were in town and kept meaning to swing by your place, but thing are so busy here as you can see.”

“No problem. I – I heard about your - old man. I’m - sorry.”

Cole gave him a small smile. “Old age, but he died happy. Wait, stay right here. I’ll be right back."

Hank sat on a small stool and looked around the workshop. Where Harold Beckett had placed caskets and embalming tools on display, Cole had filled the space with furniture and wooden toys.

“Oh, hello.”

Hank swiveled to see a young woman with dark curly hair, carrying a small tin plate of cookies. She was quite plump. Hank narrowed his eyes. Her face was lithe enough, but her stomach…

“I’m Mercy – Mercy Beckett.” She offered him the cookies.

Hank stood up. “Beckett?”

“Ah, I see you’ve met my wife Hank.” Cole appeared behind a huge cabinet. “Try some of her cookies. They’re heavenly. I’ll be back with you in a jiffy.”

Hank’s face reddened. “Didn’t know Cole was - was married.” Hank smiled and took a cookie. “I’m – I’m Hank Welton.”

“Welton… Oh, I just heard about your mother – I’m so sorry.”

Hank nodded, news travels fast in this town. “How’d you and Cole meet?”

Mercy blushed and took a seat on a bench. “I was a mail order bride.”

“Mail order…I’ve heard of that…”

Mercy nodded. “I answered Cole’s ad in the papers, we exchanged a few letters and then he invited me to town.”

“Best decision of my life,” Cole hollered.

Hank smiled. It was a pleasure to see his friend so elated. He’d heard some of the miners talk about such things, about men finding wives through the papers, but he never thought about it himself. Him writing and add? That would be the day… And the women, he’d seen one arrive at his last mining post: young, with anxiety and excitement in her eyes as she disembarked the stage coach, trembling from either the wind or fear, or maybe both.