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

Two

N ot an hour later, Wade braced a wooden beam against the shed frame and drove in a nail with practiced ease.

One more brace and he’d have the west wall shored up before nightfall.

The repetitive rhythm of carpentry kept his hands busy and his mind sharp—perfect for an undercover agent pretending to be a small-town handyman.

Unfortunately, nothing dulled the headache pounding behind his eyes.

Ever since he’d spoken with Mrs. Tindle at the mercantile, a feeling of dread settled in his gut.

He’d faced robbers, murderers, even slavers during his time as a government agent.

But nothing—and he meant nothing —had prepared him for four meddling matchmakers tucked into a quiet Oregon town.

If he wasn’t careful, they were going to drive him round the bend!

Hmmm… maybe the president should consider hiring them as interrogators…

He heard the unmistakable sound of approaching voices. Four of them, female, and each laced with a note of determination. Wade winced. That tone never meant anything good.

Sure enough, the town’s self-appointed holy quartet rounded the corner of the mercantile. Martha, Maude, Mercy, and Mahulda appeared, each wearing an expression that said they’d already decided something, and he was merely there to sign off on it.

He tipped his hat as they approached, fighting the urge to bolt. But he was no coward. “Ladies.”

“Mr. Atwood,” Martha said briskly, “we have a matter of great delicacy to discuss.”

He eyed her. As if she hadn’t already tried to recruit him once, and now she’d brought backup. “Is that so?” he drawled.

Mahulda stepped forward. She was the muscle of the group and had even managed to make him cringe a few times. “It’s about Miss Pendergrass,” she said with her usual stern look.

Wade leaned against a post, arms crossed. “That wouldn’t happen to be the mail-order bride whose groom turned up dead?”

Mercy gasped. “You make it sound so…so…well, lurid!”

“I’m just stating facts,” he replied. “But it was an accident, wasn’t it?”

The women exchanged glances. “It’s under investigation by Sheriff Walker,” Maude said stiffly. “That’s all we can say.”

Wade resisted the urge to roll his eyes and almost failed. Good grief! These four had probably planned Henry Bonner’s wedding and funeral in the same week. “So what does this have to do with me?” he asked, though he already knew. He stiffened, bracing himself.

“Well,” Martha began, smoothing a wrinkle in her glove, “as you can imagine, the entire situation has put our town in an awkward position.”

Mahulda nodded. “A young lady arriving with no groom is bound to cause speculation.”

“And we’re known for being proper,” Mercy added. “And friendly!” She plastered on a bright smile.

“And since she has no family and nowhere to go, the poor thing…” Maude dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief and shot him a meaningful look. “We thought perhaps you might consider marrying her.”

And there it was.

Wade blinked. “Come again?”

“We thought you could marry her,” Martha said. “You know…to preserve her dignity. And the town’s, of course.”

He laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

Maude folded her hands and gave him a look he suspected had made grown men cower. “We’re perfectly serious.”

He let out a long, low whistle. “Ladies, with all due respect, I came here to build sheds, repair fence posts, maybe a roof or two. Not to play house.”

Martha didn’t flinch. Of course she didn’t. “You have a good reputation, a respectable trade, and no wife. Not to mention no past entanglements, or so we’ve heard from the other bachelors.”

He chuckled. They don’t know the half of it. “I’m flattered, really,” he added. “But I’m not in the market for a wife. Why not ask one of the other bachelors?”

“Oh, we couldn’t do that,” Mercy said with a shake of her head. “None of them are as handsome and young as you. Besides, Professor Hamilton isn’t interested in getting married, he being the next best choice.”

Professor Hamilton, who owned the bookshop in town, was in his late fifties, if not early sixties. Far too old to marry the likes of Miss Pendergrass. Still, why did they think Wade was a good match?

“Look,” Mahulda said. “Henry Bonner wasn’t in the market for a wife either, but we figured it was time he got one. Men rarely know what they need.”

That got his attention. “And you do?” he asked dryly. Good grief. Had they actually sent off for a bride on Henry’s behalf without him knowing about it?

“Someone has to,” Martha said, standing a little taller.

Wade blew out a breath and picked up his hammer. “Look, I’ve got work to finish. I’ll keep an eye on her if that’s what you’re after. But marriage?” He shook his head. “Not happening.”

They started to retreat, but Martha paused. “Just think about it, Wade.”

“I assure you I won’t.”

“Perhaps you could take a stroll with her,” Mercy suggested with a hopeful look. “You know…talk to her?”

Wade gave a slow shake of his head. “If I encourage the lot of you, there’s no telling what’ll happen. No thanks.”

“We’re already encouraged,” Maude said as they backed away in unison.

“Yes, very encouraged,” Mercy echoed with a sharp nod.

And with that, the four women disappeared around the side of the building he was working next to.

Wade stood in silence for a long moment, his hammer resting against his thigh. They wanted him to marry Tess Pendergrass. Were they insane? It was unthinkable. Impossible.

Yet a tiny part of him—the part that couldn’t resist a damsel in distress—flared to life. Maybe he could help her…maybe get her back to where she came from.

No sooner had the thought formed than the matchmakers came back around the corner, this time with a young woman in tow. Her dark hair tumbled from beneath her bonnet, and her green eyes scanned the town like she didn’t know whether to run or hide.

Something about her tugged at him. Something unexpected. His protective instincts kicked in, and he turned away before they could grow any stronger.

He had a job to do: find a smuggling ring, track down whoever was running illegal goods to the coast, and get out with his badge and identity intact.

Wade glanced down at the bag of nails and grabbed a handful. He’d have to tread carefully or risk blowing this entire operation to bits.

Tess sat rigid on the settee, her gloved hands clutched tightly in her lap.

Across from her, Mrs. Tindle fussed with the tea tray while Mrs. Vander dabbed her nose, sniffling delicately.

Maude wrung a lace handkerchief like it might wring out her guilt, and sat ramrod straight, her mouth set in a grim, tight line.

They’d paraded her past a man working on what looked like a storage shed. He watched them a moment or two, then got back to work. Then the four marched her past him a second time before dragging her here. Clearly, they were trying to replace Henry Bonner with someone new.

No one said it outright at first when she asked. They’d stammered, offered to fetch her a cushion, and ushered her into Mercy’s parlor like she was a skittish cat caught in a thunderstorm.

Mercy’s maid, Betsy—a middle-aged woman with blonde hair and a plump figure—brought Tess a teacup and saucer.

“Here you go, Miss Pendergrass,” she said softly.

“You look like you need this.” Her eyes flicked to the older women and again.

“Don’t mind them,” she added in a low voice.

“They mean well. They’re just…pushy about it sometimes. ”

Tess gave her a wan smile. “Thank you.” She accepted the tea and sat perfectly still. Maybe if she didn’t move, they wouldn’t start in on her again.

“Murdered,” Mercy said with a shake of her head.

“And right here in town,” Martha added.

Maude raised her teacup to her lips. “Terrible business.”

Mahulda leaned in Tess’s direction. “We didn’t want to say anything until you’d arrived safely. Besides, how were we to get word to you? For all we knew, you already left.”

Tess’s fingers curled tighter around her teacup. When she spoke, her voice was tight and measured. “You mean to tell me I traveled across the entire country to marry a man who is now dead?”

The four women flinched in unison. Martha plastered on a smile. “Well, dear…technically, yes.”

“Technically?” Tess repeated.

“We didn’t think you’d come if you knew,” Maude admitted, folding her hands primly.

Tess shot to her feet. “You mean you lied to me? Did Mr. Bonner even send for me, or was it you four?”

Betsy eyed her employers from the doorway, arched an eyebrow, and made a pointed look. “Mm-hm. None of you ever listen to me,” she muttered. “Didn’t I say it’d be a bad idea?” Without another word, she picked up the empty cookie plate and sauntered toward the kitchen.

Tess turned her attention back to her so-called benefactors. “Well?”

“We may have omitted a few things,” Martha said with a small shrug.

“Omitted?!” Tess’s voice cracked. “I sold everything I owned, came here with the last of my money in a borrowed dress, to marry a man who was already in the ground?! How could you?!”

The women exchanged worried looks.

“We didn’t want you to fret,” Mercy offered. “The train trip is long and uncomfortable and…”

“Try it with a broken heart and no future to speak of,” Tess snapped.

She pressed a hand to her temple. A headache was fast approaching.

She paced to the window, then back again.

She wasn’t going to launch into an explanation of her father’s death or the horrible debt he left behind.

“I can’t return east. I don’t have the money. I don’t even have a job.”

She looked at them—would they loan her the fare? And even if they did, what would she return to? Nothing.

“We’ll think of something, dear,” Martha said quickly. “Maybe Mr. Atwood…”

“Don’t.” Tess pointed a trembling finger. “Don’t you dare try to match me with someone else. You’ve caused enough trouble already.”

“Well,” Maude muttered under her breath, “it would solve a great deal.”

Tess turned on them. “I don’t need a solution. I need a place to…” She cut herself off. Who was she kidding? Shedid need a solution. Desperately.

She sank into a chair, buried her face in her hands, and willed the tears not to start.

The only sound in the room was the steady ticking of the clock on the mantle and the soft clink of a spoon sliding off its saucer.

Her shoulders sagged. “I gave up everything. I thought I was walking into a new life. Instead…” She looked at the floor, then tossed a hand in the air. “Instead, I stepped into all of this.”

Dramatic? Maybe. But they deserved it.

Martha reached over and took her hand. “I’m so sorry, dear. We never meant to hurt you.”

Tess swallowed hard and nodded, her throat too tight for words. Part of it was grief over her situation. But the rest? Anger. And a need for answers.

She didn’t know what she was going to do.

Only that she wasn’t leaving. Not yet, anyway.

For one, she needed to earn enough money to go anywhere.

For another, she wanted to know what really happened to Henry Bonner and why someone wanted him dead.

Maybe then she’d feel better about all of this.

After all… he could have been some sort of criminal for all she knew.

If that were the case, then thank goodness she’d dodged that bullet.