Page 1 of Mail-Order Tess (A Mail-Order Mystery #2)

One

The train gave one final lurch, sending everyone forward with a soft jolt, and hissed to a stop.

Tess Pendergrass looked out the window, nose pressed to the glass as she gazed at the tiny train station.

A single dirt road led into town, and beyond it she spotted a few shops.

A whitewashed church steeple peeked above the rooftops, and the sign on the stationmaster’s shack read INDEPENDENCE in bold black letters.

Her heart thundered in her chest. She hoped she’d find not just the town, but true independence and a new beginning here. It was her last hope.

She reached for her large satchel, the one she kept her mother’s quilt in, and paused to smooth her skirt.

It was the only possession of value she had, and she wasn’t about to leave it behind.

Not when her mother made it. The quilt wasn’t fancy and wasn’t even pretty.

But it was all Tess had left of the woman that died more than ten years ago.

Glancing around at what few passengers there were, she tucked a loose curl behind her ear.

Her dark hair needed washing and was hard to tame after the long train ride.

She could only imagine what her travel-worn appearance would do to her chances, but surely Henry Bonner wouldn’t care.

He knew her circumstances, dreadful as they were.

He was her new beginning, and she hoped he wouldn’t hold her past over her head.

Tess stepped onto the platform with practiced poise. She might not have money anymore, but she still had grace. That had to count for something.

All around her, passengers were greeted by friends and family with hugs, kisses, and bright smiles. Would Henry smile at her? She looked around but didn’t see a man searching through the small crowd. Was he late?

After a moment or two, the train whistle blew again, and the locomotive began to pull away. Tess took a deep breath, filling her lungs with clean Oregon air, and tried not to panic. Where was her groom?

The crowd on the platform dispersed. The only ones left consisted of four older women huddled near a potted shrub that had seen better days. They looked like they were tryingveryhard not to look like they were watching her.

One held a parasol that matched her shoes.

Another wore a towering hat that looked like it might take flight.

The shortest of the group clutched a handbag large enough to carry a full-grown cat, possibly a small dog.

The fourth woman simply stood and scowled, making no attempt to hide her scrutiny.

She wore a purple dress with a matching parasol and an expression that could wither crops.

The tallest whispered something to the shortest, and all four began murmuring with increasing urgency.

The one with the huge hat gave a decisive nod and marched forward, a smile plastered across her face.

Oh dear…

“You must be Miss Pendergrass!” the woman exclaimed.

Tess blinked. How did she know her name? “Yes, I’m…um, are you related to Mr. Bonner, or a friend of his?”

“Oh heavens, no!” the woman said with a wave. “I’m Martha Tindle, and these are my dear friends, Maude, Mercy, and Mahulda!”

The other three stepped forward in turn, each offering a polite greeting while scanning Tess from head to toe.

Tess, too polite to return the scrutiny, stood quietly and tried not to fidget.

“Why, you’re even lovelier than your photograph,” Mercy said with approval.

“I say she’s far too lovely to be wasted on someone like Henry,” Maude muttered.

Mahulda elbowed her. Maude elbowed her right back.

Tess blinked, confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“Welcome to Independence!” Martha said brightly. She took Tess by the arm and steered her across the platform. “We can’t tell you how delighted we are that you’ve arrived. Just wait till you see where you’ll be staying!”

Tess frowned as she tried to keep pace with their determined steps “Wait! Mr. Bonner was supposed to meet me here at the station.”

“Oh, that,” Mercy said. “Well, dear, Henry’s been… shall we say… detained.”

Maude cleared her throat. Loudly.

“Temporarily, that is,” Mercy added.

Martha smiled through gritted teeth. “Never mind that! Let’s get you something cold to drink and perhaps a bite to eat. You’ve had a long journey.”

Tess stopped up short. “Is Mr. Bonner alright?”

The four women froze like squirrels spotting a hawk. Tess wouldn’t have been surprised if they scattered.

“Well,” Martha said, “he’s…not currently indisposed, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s not a word,” Maude muttered with an eyeroll.

“Well, he’s not alive ,” Mercy hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “Not after falling off…”

“Mercy!” Mahulda huffed.

Tess looked at each of them, narrowing her eyes. “What is going on?”

The women exchanged glances. Finally, Martha let out a weary sigh and gave Tess the kind of expression usually reserved for telling a child the family dog ran away.

“You see, Miss Pendergrass…Henry has passed on.”

Tess blinked. Once. Twice. “Passed…on?”

“I’m afraid he met with an unfortunate accident,” Mahulda said gently. “He fell off the train platform and hit his head on the train track.”

“Though we think it’s foul play,” Martha added with a curt nod. “Very foul.”

Tess sucked in a breath. “What are you talking about?”

“Shush it, Martha,” Maude hissed. “We’re not supposed to say murder !”

Tess gasped and her knees buckled like a folding chair. The four women scrambled to keep her upright.

“Now look what you two have done,” Mercy scolded.

“Let’s get her to the church,” Martha said.

They guided her off the platform, down a short street, around a building, and onto what she assumed was the town’s main street.

At the end of it stood a small white church.

They ushered Tess up the street to it. Once there, Martha pulled her up the steps and fanned her with a Sunday program someone had left near the door.

“There, there, dear,” Martha soothed, fanning furiously. “Everything will be just fine.”

Easy for her to say, Tess thought as she stared at the little town.

Her heart pounded. Henry Bonner—her groom—was dead.

She had traveled across the country for a future that no longer existed.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered. “I don’t have enough money for return fare.

I don’t have any family back East. This was supposed to be my new start… ”

Martha straightened, hands on hips. “Well then, we’ll simply have to find you a new future.”

Maude nodded. “Not to mention a new husband.”

Tess’s head snapped up. “What?”

Mercy shrugged and grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ve got our eye on a very nice candidate. You’ll love him.”

“Oh yes,” Mahulda chimed in. “Strong jaw, broad shoulders, keeps to himself. No woman likes a loud, obnoxious man. He’s perfect.”

Martha patted Tess’s hand. “You just rest, dear. The town of Independence takes care of its own. And now, so do we. Besides, we’ve had plenty of experience with this sort of thing. We’ll have you matched up in no time.”

Tess didn’t know whether to feel rescued or recruited…but with nowhere else to go, one thing was certain; her troubles had only just begun.

Wade Atwood wiped beads of sweat from his brow and stepped back to eye his handiwork.

The porch rail was finally fixed. Again.

This was the third time this month Mrs. Tindle had asked him to “kindly check on it,” which really meant she wanted the lowdown on every eligible bachelor in town.

Not that she and her cronies didn’t already know.

Sure, he was a bachelor but so were half a dozen other men in town.

Why question him about what they were up to?

She also seemed to think he was her personal carpenter.

He slid his hammer into the loop on his tool belt. “There,” he muttered. “That ought to hold until the next time someone leans on it too hard.” He wasn’t sure which Tindle was doing the leaning—one of the older ones, or perhaps Morgan and Daisy’s boy, Chance?

“That kid and his friends,” he grumbled. Teenagers never pay attention to these things, which was how things kept getting busted.

“I bet she heard that,” came a familiar voice behind him.

Wade turned to see Fletcher Vander, the mayor’s grandson, leaning against a porch post. The boy adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles and grinned. At sixteen, he was whip-smart and far too observant for his own good.

“Don’t you have schoolwork to do?” Wade asked.

“I already finished it. Twice.” Fletcher straightened. “Besides, I heard Mrs. Smythe say there’s a mail-order bride arriving today. That’ll put my grandma in a tizzy.”

Wade blinked. “Good for your grandma.”

“Yeah, but what’s she gonna do when the bride finds out her groom’s dead?”

Wade’s eyebrows shot up. Just what he needed—the town matchmakers meddling in things again. He hadn’t been in town long when they descended on him and tried to pry as much information about him as they could.

He brushed his hands off on his pants. “Let me guess—your grandma and her friends are trying to keep this poor mail-order bride from bolting back east and ruining the town’s reputation?”

Fletcher pushed off the post. “Well, they say it’s just a rumor, but no one’s seen Henry Bonner for days. So it must be true. That means there’s a mystery to solve! And of course, we gotta protect the town’s image. No one wants to settle somewhere with a murderer on the loose.”

Wade pinched the bridge of his nose. This was supposed to be a simple assignment: pose as a carpenter, sniff out who was using the Independence rail line to smuggle opium and illegal liquor, and shut the whole thing down quietly. No fuss. No attention.

And definitely no marriage plots.

He already felt sorry for the poor mail-order bride.

In truth, he probably ought to feel sorry for himself.

He’d been roped into fixing half the town’s woodwork, dodged baked goods used as bribery, and even a homecooked meal here and there, and now, he’d no doubt have to contend with a stranded bride.

He could only imagine what Mercy Vander and the rest of her meddling matron friends were plotting.

Wade tugged on his vest and headed toward the general store. He needed more nails, and if Martha Tindle had her way, probably a fiancée by sundown.

He saw Fletcher watch him go before he sauntered off the boardwalk and crossed the street.

Wade decided to check the train station before hitting the mercantile.

It was always good to keep an eye on the tiny depot.

He cut down a side street, scanning for signs of suspicious activity.

There were no crates left unattended or strangers loitering around, but that didn’t mean the smugglers weren’t operating here.

Rings like these were slick. They knew how to look respectable.

That made Independence a prime spot to operate something under everyone’s nose.

After checking the depot, he circled back and entered Tindle’s Mercantile. The little bell over the door jingled merrily, announcing his arrival. Martha Tindle looked up from behind the counter and lit up like the Fourth of July. “Well, if it isn’t Wade! Just the man I was hoping to see.”

He opened his mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance.

“Now I know you’re busy,” she chirped, “but a certain young lady just arrived in town. Oh, Wade, she’s lovely!

Dark hair, the most striking green eyes, and so polite!

And wouldn’t you know it? Her groom passed away just days before she arrived.

” Martha clasped her hands together and gave him a syrupy smile.

“What a shame,” he deadpanned. “What’s that got to do with me?”

Mrs. Tindle slid a bag of nails across the counter.

She always seemed to know what he needed before he even asked.

“Well,” she drawled, “it’d be an awful tragedy if she left after coming all this way.

Poor thing’s alone with nowhere to go...

” She blinked at him several more times, piling on the sympathy.

Wade tried not to roll his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been feeding me these last few days? To soften me up? How long have you known this woman was coming?”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Soften you up? Why would I do that?”

He chuckled, toss some money on the counter, and picked up the bag of nails. “Please don’t get any ideas, Mrs. Tindle. I’m a confirmed bachelor.”

“You still want to be neighborly, don’t you?” she called after him as he turned toward the door. “You ought to be a dear and introduce yourself. She’s staying at the parsonage with Pastor Adams and Winnie. Poor thing’s been through enough, what with Henry gone and all...”

Wade ignored her and stepped outside. As he turned toward the church, he could just make out two of the other matchmakers lurking near the cemetery gate behind the church.

They didn’t have anyone with them, and he suspected they were already planning poor Henry’s funeral.

He also suspected Martha Tindle and her friends were going to be more trouble for him than the smugglers.

And that was saying something.