Dear Mr. Stone (Mail-Order Bride Ink Book 11) Read online

  “Oh, no, dear,” Petunia said, speaking up. “We just came from the bookshop next door. Jace and Katie will be joining us for Thanksgiving.”

  “What?” Beryl said in disbelief. She smiled at Ephraim. “Did you hear that?”

  He put his arm around her and smiled at Katie’s father. “I’m glad you’ve accepted the situation. And Jace is a good man.”

  Mr. Haverdash harrumphed. “Well, I can’t have my Katie living a life of misery because of me, now can I?” He sighed, looked down, and headed back to his table.

  Petunia put her hand on his arm when he reached it. “Everything will work out, dear, you’ll see.”

  He patted his wife’s hand and sat. It was the first time Beryl had ever seen defeat in the man’s eyes. So they’d guessed right – he must be in some sort of trouble and Katie was needed to get him out of it. Oh, wait until she got her hands on that Ronald Finch! Katie’s father was no peach, but at least he was making an effort to change … finally.

  “Beryl,” her father said. “Your mother and I must speak with you.”

  She pushed thoughts of Ronald aside. “My mind is made up. I love Ephraim. I know you must think we’ve gone around the bend. We’ve known each other such a short time. But …”

  “It’s not that, sweetheart.” Her father sighed again. “He is not as … compatible as we’d like.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “What your father is trying to say,” her mother said, “is that, um, there are others …”

  Beryl was getting madder by the second. “Excuse me?!” She was vaguely aware of Mr. Markhel sinking into the nearest chair with a groan. What did he know about it? “Look, I don’t care who you had in mind for me, because that’s obviously what this is about. I love Ephraim Stone, and I’m going to marry him.”

  Her parents looked as frustrated as Mr. Markhel. Did they have some sort of arrangement? Had they hired him to find her a suitable husband, one that wouldn’t want her for the Branson fortune? It was possible, but she didn’t care. “You won’t talk me out of it!” she said, hoping it was enough.

  It wasn’t. “Mr. Markhel,” her father said, “would you assist me in escorting my daughter back to the hotel?”

  “No …” Beryl whispered.

  “You have no right to tell us what we can or cannot do,” Ephraim said. “Beryl is of marriageable age.”

  Her father looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Son, do you have any idea who I am?”

  Ephraim stared at him, opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Markhel stood and joined them in two strides. “Mr. Branson, leave this to me.”

  “What? But you said …”

  “I know what I said, but if you do this, you could lose your daughter.”

  Beryl’s mouth opened and closed a few times. She was suddenly in the same position Katie had been in, but she sensed there was more than that. Her parents, like Katie’s, didn’t think someone of Ephraim’s station was good enough for her – what else could it be?

  Which also made her think about the card her father hadn’t played: to threaten her with disinheritance. Would he do it? Was he so desperate to have her marry someone of their own station? Ephraim was a country doctor, a far cry from Baltimore society. But she didn’t care. Could she live without the money? She thought so, yes. But she didn’t want to lose her parents in the process like Katie almost did.

  Like Katie’s parents, hers were upset and figured they could swoop in and whisk her home. She might suffer a little heartbreak, in their minds. But they had no idea what had occurred between she and Ephraim. She couldn’t explain it. She only knew that if she left him, her heart would go beyond breaking. She’d never find this kind of love again.

  She looked at Mr. Markhel and back. “He’s right, Father. I … I can’t leave. I won’t. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “We all want what’s best for our children,” Ephraim’s father said. “But let it alone. Our son has a good head on his shoulders. He wouldn’t say he loves the girl if it wasn’t true.”

  “Well said, Levi,” Mrs. Stone stated.

  “Thank you.”

  “But you can’t expect us to just walk away and take the next train back to Baltimore!” Beryl’s mother said.

  “I know you’re upset, and frankly, I don’t want you to leave,” Beryl said. She took her mother’s hands in hers. “I want you to stay and see me wed.”

  Her mother’s jaw dropped. She turned to her husband. “C.J.?”

  Ephraim’s eyes went wide. “C.J.? C.J. Branson?”

  Beryl buried her face in her hands. “Oh, no …”

  “One and the same,” her father drawled. “Being from Clear Creek, I thought you knew that.”

  Ephraim gaped at him. “I was ten when you came to town.” He stared at him. “You haven’t changed much. I should have remembered.” He looked at Beryl’s mother. “You too, ma’am. I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you earlier.”

  “As you said, you were ten,” his father said. “What ten-year-old remembers such things?”

  Ephraim sighed. “You’re right.” He looked at Beryl’s father. “And frankly, sir, you could be the president of the United States and I would still marry Beryl. She’s mine and that’s that.” He took Beryl’s hand and held it tight. “I’ll take good care of her. She’ll have a roof over her head and food on the table and more love than you can imagine.”

  Mr. Markhel stepped forward. “You’ll protect her?”

  “Of course,” Ephraim said as if the man had asked if water was wet.

  “And if needed,” Mr. Markhel added, his eyes locked on Ephraim, “die for her?”

  Ephraim looked taken aback. “Yes. I’d take a bullet for her if I had to.”

  Mr. Markhel looked very pleased all of a sudden. He turned to Beryl. “And you, Beryl Branson. Are you willing to leave all you know to be with this man?”

  She took a breath, looked at her parents, then bit her lip. “Don’t tell me you’ll refuse to see me ever again if I marry Ephraim. It didn’t work for Mr. Haverdash. And if you tell me, then …” She bit her lip harder.

  “Shhh,” Ephraim said. “Don’t say such things.” He took her in his arms and looked at her father. “If you did, then you’re not the man I’ve heard about in Clear Creek.”

  “I could disinherit her,” her father said.

  “Do as you wish,” Ephraim said. “I can take care of her. There are more important things in this world than money.”

  “Beryl,” Markhel said gently. “You did not answer my question. Do you willingly want to be with this man? To give yourself to him?”

  She looked at him, eyes misting with tears. “More than you know. More than anything I’ve ever known.”

  He smiled in satisfaction then looked at her father. “It is done.”

  “Done?” Ephraim’s mother said. “What’s done?”

  “The argument,” Mr. Branson said. “I can’t fight what’s developed between them.” He went to the nearest chair and sat. “No more than you could have.”

  Beryl stared at him. “Are you … disappointed?”

  Mr. Branson stood again and went to her. “Do you mind?” he asked Ephraim.

  He took a deep breath, as if letting go of her hand pained him, and gave it to her father.

  “Papa?” she said softly.

  “I’m not disappointed, dearest. I was only trying to protect you.” He glanced at Ephraim and back. “But I see it isn’t necessary. Mr. Stone will do as he says. He’ll protect you, provide for you, and if need be, give his life for you.” He looked at Ephraim. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Beryl smiled. “Thank you, Father!” She threw her arms around his neck.

  “And if he doesn’t, then I’ll send Markhel here to make sure he does.”

  Markhel smiled.

  Ephraim didn’t. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “See that it isn’t,” Mr. Branson said. He let Beryl go. “There’s so much we
have to tell you, dearest. But right now, considering everything that’s just happened, I think perhaps we’d better pay a visit to the town preacher.” He looked at Ephraim. “You do have one here, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Pastor Luke Adams.”

  “Good. Let’s go pay him a visit.”

  “What’s the rush?” Beryl said.

  “The sooner you marry, the easier I’ll sleep at night.”

  Beryl exchanged a quick look with Ephraim. She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “All right. Let’s go.”

  Ephraim watched Beryl’s father offer her his arm. “Walk with me, daughter.”

  She glanced at Ephraim, who nodded. He knew what a shock this had been to his own parents, let alone Beryl’s. But considering who her parents were, he couldn’t blame them – he’d probably have done the same. At least he was from Clear Creek. C.J. Branson loved the little town and the folks in it.

  His folks followed Beryl and her parents. “I’ll be along in a minute, Father,” he told them.

  “All right, but don’t take too long.” His father wrapped his mother’s arm around his and left.

  Mr. Haverdash stood, cleared his throat and headed for the door with Mrs. Haverdash. He stopped when he reached Ephraim. “I owe you an apology, young man. I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted. It was selfish of me.”

  Ephraim studied him. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Jace and Katie?”

  “We already have,” Mrs. Haverdash said. “Katie invited us to dinner.”

  He nodded. “That’s good.”

  “We were going to leave tomorrow,” Mr. Haverdash said. “But … I’d like to stay for your wedding.”

  Ephraim smiled. “That would be nice.”

  Mr. Haverdash smiled too. “We look forward to it.” He turned and left, his usual bluster diminished. Seeing Beryl suddenly thrust into the same situation Katie had been in made him speak up – and in a good way, thank Heaven.

  He turned to Mr. Markhel. “You and I need to talk.”

  “There is nothing more to talk about. You are now joined with Miss Branson, and in ways you cannot possibly imagine.” His smile broadened. “I look forward to your wedding.”

  “As do I. Which brings me …” Ephraim glanced at Darcy and back. “Let’s speak outside.”

  The big man shrugged and followed him out the door and across the street. “What is it?”

  Ephraim pointed at the café. “You know perfectly well. She’s too young for you. I know you told me you were watching over her, but why her? I don’t see you watching over anyone else around here the same way.”

  “That is none of your concern.”

  “She is. I’m her physician.”

  Mr. Markhel arched an eyebrow.

  “Darcy Templeton is young, impressionable and … well, not for you,” Ephraim said.

  “Indeed, she is not.”

  Ephraim started. “What?”

  “She is not for me. She is meant for another.” He got closer. “And she is all those things you say and more. So tell me, Dr. Stone – when she reaches marriageable age, how many young men in this town will fight for her hand?”

  Ephraim pondered that. “I … I’m not sure. Several come to mind.”

  “Ah, yes, but would she be compatible with any of them?”

  “You mean will she get along with them? She and Chance Tindle get along well enough. But I don’t think he’s interested …”

  Mr. Markhel smiled again. “Trust me. He will be.”

  Ephraim’s brow creased. “How do you know?”

  Mr. Markhel sighed. “Experience.” He looked down the street. “You had best catch up to the others, or your wedding will be planned without you.”

  “You’re right.” He started walking, stopped and turned around. “I’m sorry I can’t join your organization.”

  The big man sighed again. “No one can argue with love, Dr. Stone. When two hearts find each other and join, what can separate them? I have not the power to do that.”

  Ephraim nodded. “You’re right. I’m afraid you won’t find anymore recruits here. You’ll have to go elsewhere.”

  “I know. Perhaps back to Clear Creek or Oregon City. Who knows where my superior will send me? However, I do not look forward to telling him love has taken away another fine recruit.”

  Ephraim shrugged. What else could he do? Curious, he asked, “Just what exactly does a Knight of the Prairie do?”

  He smiled. “It is simple, really. You have already done it.”

  Ephraim shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Help two hearts find each other, make sure they become one, join them so nothing can separate them …”

  Ephraim laughed. “Okay, fine. It’s a secret, I get it.” He held out his hand. “Goodbye, Mr. Markhel.”

  He took it and gave it a healthy shake. “I will see you at your wedding.”

  “Fine.” Ephraim turned and hurried for the church. Who knew what havoc his mother and Beryl’s were causing poor Pastor Adams. Mothers and weddings were much more frightening than even Mr. Markhel.

  Epilogue

  Two days later …

  “And do you, Beryl Maria Branson, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  Pastor Adams was a kindly sort who’d been in Independence since the early 1870s. His wife Winnie was also kind, cheerful and willing to lend a helping hand. In this case, her hand had mostly been between Fina Stone and Rufi Branson, acting as referee between the two mothers.

  But all in all, Beryl didn’t know how she could’ve put together such a beautiful wedding in so short a time. Why her father suddenly wanted them to wed right away, she wasn’t sure. Maybe he thought she and Ephraim would have a hard time waiting now that their love for each other was public knowledge. Or he didn’t think her future husband could behave himself and didn’t want to have to chaperone them for weeks.

  But whether she married Ephraim in weeks or minutes didn’t matter to her. She was hit so hard and fast by love, she still couldn’t fathom the intensity of it. The only thing that came close was the love of the Almighty, and none of them were capable of that much.

  “You may kiss the bride …”

  Good grief! Had she even said, “I do?”

  “Beryl,” Ephraim said gently and lifted her veil. “Beryl Stone.”

  “Yes?”

  He smiled. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

  “Two whole days,” she whispered as his lips met hers. The kiss was gentle, slow and a promise of what was to come. And it couldn’t last long enough.

  “Ahem,” Pastor Adams said.

  Ephraim lifted his face from hers. “Hm?”

  “May I present Dr. and Mrs. Ephraim Stone,” the pastor chuckled.

  A cheer went up along with a loud “whoopee!” from Mayor Vander.

  “Poor Mercy,” Beryl said as they started down the aisle to congratulations from the well-wishers. “She and her friends didn’t get to plan much of this.”

  “Once they found out who your parents were, they were afraid to,” he teased.

  She glanced at her dress – older, but beautiful. Mahulda Brock loaned it to her, saying it belonged to a family member. It was a sweet gesture and she’d be forever grateful. Was it her daughter’s? In the whirlwind to get ready, she forgot to ask and Mahulda never told her.

  Speaking of which … “Well, congratulations,” the older woman said as they continued down the aisle. “Aren’t you glad that Mad Matchmaker struck again?”

  Ephraim laughed. “Yes, I suppose. If it weren’t for that scoundrel, we wouldn’t be here.”

  Mr. Branson, on the other side of the aisle, laughed. “What? A Mad Matchmaker?”

  “Oh, we forgot to tell you,” Beryl said.

  “Never mind that now,” Mahulda said. “The ‘scoundrel’ has done his work and brought two people together in holy matrimony. That’s what counts.”

  Beryl smiled at the older woma
n, then gave her a hug. “You are so right!”

  Mahulda kissed her on the cheek. “Congratulations, dear. You too, Dr. Stone.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Brock. And thank you for helping organize the food and the cake.”

  “You’re most welcome,” she said, beaming.

  They continued down the aisle, Beryl’s parents following. “I want to hear about this Mad Matchmaker,” her mother was saying.

  Mahulda watched them go and giggled. She stopped when a large shadow appeared in the aisle and slowly turned. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Mr. Markhel smiled down at her as people filed out of the church to go to the Vanders’ house for the reception. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

  Mahulda straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He leaned down to her. “Your secret, Mrs. Brock, is safe with me.”

  She gasped, then quickly recovered. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He straightened. “You are a fine matchmaker. How would you like to help another couple along?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” She started to leave, then stopped. “Er, who?”

  He smiled, leaned down again and whispered in her ear.

  Mahulda’s eyes widened. “What? Darcy and …”

  “Shhh. Do you accept this mission, Mrs. Brock?”

  “Oh, well, I never … what makes you think …?”

  He bent to her again. “Because you are the best person for the job. Matchmaker.”

  She fiddled with her hat, her dress, her reticule. “Well, I am a good judge of character …”

  “That you are.”

  She eyed him. “What’s in it for you?”

  “I cannot be in two places at once. I need your help.”

  “What? You mean you’d see those two …”

  “You are an expert in your field, Mrs. Brock.”

  By now the church was quite empty. Mr. Brock had already left to help Mayor Vander with some extra chairs. She looked up at Markhel and gulped. “Um, I just have to get them matched?”

  He nodded. “That is all. They would be a good pair, don’t you think?”

  “Well, I hadn’t given it much thought …”

  “Not much?”