Love at Harvest Moon (Holiday Mail Order Brides, Book Seven) Read online

  “Ah, Lor, I sure miss ye. I wish ye were here with me now.” Finn sighed sadly. “But would ye want to be here, after what I did to ye?” A chill went up his spine at the words. His nightmares had increased to the point where he was having them several times a night. He shook his head, tossed the shovel onto the fresh mound of dirt and turned around ...

  … and a rock hit him square in the head.

  “Ahhhh!” he cried as he stepped backwards from the impact and, arms flailing, fell backwards into the empty grave and landed with a loud “OOMPH!” The wind knocked out of him, he opened his eyes to get his bearings, but the sun high overhead forced him to close them again. He lay there, and waited to get his breath back.

  “Do ya think we killed him?” he heard a child's voice ask.

  “If’n we did, then it was your fault, Nate!”

  Oh no, Finn thought.

  “It ain't my fault!” Nate shot back. “You’re the one done give me the rock, Walton, and you know it!”

  “Yeah, but Bart here’s the one that picked it up first!”

  “I did not! Bart threw it at me and hit me in the backside!”

  Finn fought against another groan, this one not from his fall. It was the Dalton triplets, three identical bundles of ten-year-old-trouble. He still couldn’t tell them apart. Maybe if he lay still enough, they really would think he was dead and go away. But he knew better than to assume that with these three boys.

  “Pa’s gonna bust a gut when he finds out what you done, Nate!”

  “Shut up, Walton!”

  Best get to it then. “And I'm gonna smack ye with a good switch when I catch ye!” Finn yelled from the bottom of the grave.

  Three perfect silhouettes appeared and stared at him. “You ain’t dead!” Nate cried.

  “No! And you rotten little Daltons had better not move!” His breath back, he climbed to his feet, rubbed his temple and glared at the triple troublemakers.

  “Tarnation!” Walton cried. “He's alive!”

  “We won't be if Pa finds out!” cried Nate.

  “Or if Mr. Mullaney gets out! Run!” Bart screamed as Finn scrambled out of the grave, his hands groping for anything within range.

  Unfortunately for Nate, it happened to be the cuff of his pants. Finn grabbed the hem and gave it a good yank. Nate tripped and fell, and Finn was on him in an instant. He sat on his backside, pinning him to the ground.

  “I didn't mean to do it! They made me!” the boy whined.

  Finn looked up in time to see Nate’s brothers dash through the graveyard and out to the road, not bothering to look back at their captured counterpart. Poor Nate had been abandoned to suffer his fate alone.

  “So, Nate Dalton,” Finn growled, “we meet again.”

  “Get offa me! I can't breathe!” the boy croaked.

  “You can't breathe? Try getting hit in the head with a rock and get the wind knocked out of ye! Besides, I ain’t that heavy. Now where's your da?”

  “You are so heavy! As heavy as a whale! And I don't know where my Pa is!”

  “Well then, I guess we’ll just have to find him.”

  “You’re not gonna tell on me, are ya?”

  “Wouldn't you if you were me?”

  The boy stopped his squirming and thought a moment. “No!”

  “I thought you'd say as much,” Finn told him as Nate resumed his struggles. “Unless of course I could be persuaded to, say… make a trade? Then I might not be so inclined to tell yer Pa … this time.”

  Nate stopped struggling. “Like … like what?”

  “How about if you and yer brothers help me out for a few days? Then, and only then, I might find it in my heart to forget this whole sordid affair.”

  “A few days! You'll work us to death!”

  “It's no less than ye deserve, ye rotten little …”

  “Lemme up! You’re too heavy!”

  Finn rolled his eyes. He supposed he should get up – not because he was that heavy, but because Nate wasn’t that big. He got up, reached down and pulled the boy to his feet. “Now then, how about my offer?”

  “I ain’t gonna work for ya! And neither is Walton or Bart!”

  “Fine,” said Finn. “I guess that means I'll have to find your da and tell him ye tried to kill me with a rock.”

  “We ain't done no such thing and you know it! Besides,” Nate sneered, “how ya gonna prove it?”

  “I'm wearing the proof on my head,” Finn said and pointed to the growing bruise on his temple.

  Nate blanched. “Well … that don't prove nothin’! Maybe you just walked into a headstone! Or a … a shovel fell on ya!”

  “Do ye really think yer da is going to believe that?”

  Nate's eyes darted to the other side of the cemetery. Finn caught the movement, and grabbed the boy before he could break for the gate. “How about you and me go see yer Pa right now?”

  Nate kicked him.

  Fine, then. Finn picked him up off the ground and tucked his wriggling form under his arm, pinning him to his side. He knew the boy’s strength was no match for his own, and that he’d soon tire.

  “I'm gonna tell my Pa on you!”

  “Good. Ye can do it whilst I tell him about the rock – and that kick!”

  Nate's face turned beet red. He drew in a deep breath, about to really let Finn have it, when he saw a flash of color in the pumpkin patch beyond the cemetery. A woman was moving toward them as fast as she could, then tripped and disappeared into the foliage. “Hey, let me go! There's a lady over there!”

  “Don't be telling me none of yer lies, boy! You and yer brothers are in a heap of trouble, and there's no getting out of it!”

  “I'm not lying! There is a lady in your pumpkin patch! She fell down and disappeared!”

  “What are ye talking about?” Finn asked as he fought to hang onto him.

  “Look, she’s right over there!” Nate screeched and pointed.

  Finn turned in time to see a woman pop up in the middle of his family’s pumpkin patch. She teetered a bit as if losing her footing, then vanished into the greenery again. A small puff of dust flew up from the vines. “Well, sure ‘n begorrah, there really is!”

  Nate kept squirming. “Toldja!”

  Finn put the boy down, but kept a death grip on his arm. “Come on, let's go see if she's hurt.”

  Nate grumbled something unintelligible, but followed – not that he had a choice.

  Finn kept marching toward where he’d seen the lass last. But as soon as it became apparent the woman wasn't getting up again, Finn stopped and turned to Nate, releasing his grip on the boy’s arm and moving it to his nose. “All right, lad, I’ve got bigger fish to fry here. But I tell ye true – I’ll be talking with yer da later today, and I will tell him what ye and yer gang were up to. And ye better not tell him any lies, or I’ll make sure ye suffer double. Ye got that?”

  “Uh-huh,” Nate honked. Finn released his nose, and Nate took full advantage, running away while he had the chance.

  Now Finn was able to focus on the woman, whom he was worried might have injured herself. He picked his way through the pumpkins and vines, but found he lost track of where he’d seen her go down. He studied the rows and rows of pumpkins surrounding him. “Hello?” he called out. “Ma'am? Are ye all right?”

  “Help!” squeaked a voice to his left.

  He turned but saw nothing.

  “Ouch!”

  He turned again. Somehow he’d passed her by; she was several rows behind him. He dodged pumpkins as he ran to her side. “Ma’am, what are ye doing out here? Are ye all right?”

  She was more out of breath than he was, barely able to speak. “Stage … driver … he's hurt … badly …” She pointed across the pumpkin patch to the hayfield beyond.

  “Was there some kind of an accident?”

  She nodded as she gasped for breath.

  Finn took a closer look, and noted her right ankle was caught in the vines and twisted at an odd angle. “That doesn'
t look good,” he said and bent to her. “Does it hurt, ma'am?”

  She nodded, tears in her eyes. She was still unable to speak – whether from lack of air or the pain, Finn didn't know. All he knew was he’d better take care of the situation. “Don't ye worry none. I'll get ye to Doc Henderson’s then get help for the others.” He took out a pocketknife, cut the vine that had tripped her and untangled it from her ankle. Then he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice came out in an anguished screech.

  “Ye can't walk, so what else am I to do, leave ye here? Besides, the doctor’s not far, and it's not like I haven't moved a body before.”

  She started at his comment. He was about to explain when he almost tripped and went down. She flung her arms around his neck and held on. “The driver …,” she gasped, her face flushed. “He's hurt …”

  “I know, but so are you. Is he worse off than ye are?”

  She nodded. “He thinks he has … some broken ribs. The stage lost a wheel.”

  “A wheel? Did it tip over?”

  Another nod. “It's in a ditch. It won't be easy to get it out.”

  “What happened?” he asked as he maneuvered his way toward the cemetery.

  “I don't know,” she said, her breathing more even now. “Something must have spooked the horses. They bolted, and when the driver tried to get them under control the wheel came off. That's all I know.”

  “Don’t ye worry none, lass. I’ll see yer taken care of, and get someone to take care of the driver too.”

  She relaxed, and hung onto him tighter as if in gratitude. Finn tightened his hold in response, careful not to trip and injure her further. His guess was that she'd run across the hayfield and was already exhausted by the time she got to his family's pumpkin patch. He was amazed she’d gotten that far – he could feel through her dress the tight corset she wore.

  He reached the cemetery and took the shortest path he knew to the doctor's house. She didn’t speak another word, and he wondered how much pain she was in. He stole quick glances at her as they went, and had no doubt in his mind that she was a lady. Her clothes were well-made, and even in terrible circumstances she held her head high as he carried her, grimacing only now and then. “Might ye be coming here to visit someone, ma’am?” he asked.

  “No. I came for something else.”

  “What for, if ye don't mind my asking?”

  She looked at him and, for one fleeting moment, Finn was lost in her bright blue eyes. They were in sharp contrast to her raven-black hair, and he belatedly realized she wasn’t wearing a bonnet. He tried not to stare at her as his heart skipped a beat, and he almost tripped again. Falling would prove painful, considering he now strode across gravel.

  But even more painful were her next words. “I came to Oregon City to get married.”

  Finn felt his heart plummet. He was amazed at how quick his mind had envisioned a courtship, him asking for her hand, then standing in front of Rev. Franklin. Alas …

  “I'm a mail-order bride.”

  Finn smiled at her. It was just as well – he wasn't fit for marrying anyway. What woman would want to tie the knot with the likes of him? “Were you the only passenger?” he asked, though he knew she had to be. He just wanted to get them off the subject of marriage.

  “Yes, it was only the driver and me.”

  “Well, that's good to know. What about the horses?”

  “They looked fine when I left to get help, but they were frightened. I don't know if they've done anything to themselves since.”

  Finn wanted to gaze at her pretty face, but caught sight of the sheriff across the street and turned toward him. “Sheriff!” he shouted. “There's been an accident up the road. The stage lost a wheel, and this young lady says the driver is badly hurt!”

  The sheriff closed the distance between them at a run. “What's this, you say? An accident? Good grief, ma'am, how bad are you hurt?”

  “It's my ankle – I've twisted it.”

  “We’d best get ya to Doc Henderson! Finn, can you take her? I’ll go get some men to help fetch the driver.” He turned and ran to a big bay horse across the street, mounted, and took off.

  “See, lass? Everything’s going to be fine now,” Finn reassured her.

  “You’re Irish,” she stated as if she’d just realized the fact.

  He looked at her. “Ah, dearie me, what gave it away?” he said, his voice teasing.

  “Your accent, silly.”

  “Accent? I've got an accent?” He liked her smile and wanted to get her to do it again.

  “I've never met an Irishman before. Not even while I was away at school.”

  Finn frowned – not because of what she’d said, but because they'd reached Doc Henderson’s place. Now he’d have to put her down. “Well then, I'm privileged to be the first.”

  She smiled again. It was Heaven on the eyes. He went up the porch steps and stopped at the door. “Welcome to Oregon City – and I hope yer stay here goes smoother than yer arrival.”

  Two

  Finn reached for the doorknob, his body tilting. Eva tightened her hold around his neck in response. She swore he smiled at the action as he opened the door and carried her over the threshold into a small waiting area. “Doc?” he called out.

  A plump woman stepped into the room, took one look at him and stopped short. “Finn Mullaney, what are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I'm delivering a patient.”

  “Oh dear me! Quick, set her down in this chair.” She pointed to a chair near a window. “What happened?”

  “Her stage went off the road,” he explained. “Busted a wheel clean off, she says. The sheriff is heading out there now with some men to get the driver – they'll bring him here straightaway. The lady says he's hurt pretty bad.”

  “And what about you, my dear?” she asked Eva. “Where does it hurt?”

  “I twisted my ankle when I came to get help.”

  “You poor thing. What's your name?”

  “Eva Brock, ma’am.”

  The woman bent down to examine her ankle. “Finn,” she said without looking at him. “Run and tell her kinfolk she's hurt.”

  “I'm afraid I can't do that, Birdie – she doesn’t have any kin here.”

  The woman looked up at Eva. “Does this hurt?” she asked as she pressed her ankle here and there.

  “Yes!” she yelped. “I'm afraid it does!”

  “Ooh, sorry about that,” said Birdie. “So, am I to understand you don't know a soul in Oregon City?”

  “Not yet. I came here to …” Eva stopped, and couldn’t help but blush. “… get married.”

  Birdie stopped her ministrations, a wide smile on her face. “Did you? Well, isn't that nice? I'm sure your future husband will want to know what's happened.”

  “I’m sure he will,” agreed Eva. “But I’m not sure where to look for him.”

  “You mean you don't even know what your husband looks like?” Birdie asked in shock.

  “No, we've never met. You see, I'm a mail-order bride.”

  “Oh, that explains it,” Birdie replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “So you've never even seen a picture of him?”

  “I'm afraid not. The circumstances surrounding this … endeavor, were not the usual, I’m told. Someone else made the arrangements for me, and …”

  “My best friend got a mail-order bride,” Finn volunteered. “A fine lass, too. She didn't know who to look for when she got to town either, but someone did meet her at the stage. What's the bloke’s name? I can go fetch him for ye.”

  She looked at him and smiled in relief. “That’s very kind of you, thank you. His name is …”

  The door slammed open and one of the sheriff's deputies rushed in. “Hey, Birdie! Where's Doc Henderson?”

  “He's delivering the Sampsons’ baby.”

  “There was an accident with the stage, and the driver’s hurt real b
ad. Some of the men are bringing him now.”

  “I know. Don’t fret none, Doc should be back in time to take care of him. In the meantime, I need to patch this young lady up.”

  The deputy noticed Eva for the first time, and tipped his hat. “Ma’am.” Then he turned to Finn. “Ain’t you got some graves to dig?”

  Finn stiffened. He and Deputy Blanchard hadn’t seen eye to eye since the man came to town a few months ago. “No, and thankfully I won't have to dig another.”

  Without saying another word, the deputy turned and left.

  Birdie turned to Finn. “Now what was that about?”

  “Don't ask me – ask him.” He nodded toward the door.

  Birdie shook her head, then turned her attention back to Eva’s ankle. “You're going to have to stay off of this for a few days. I hope your intended doesn't mind.”

  “I'm sure he won't.”

  “He'd be no gentleman if he did,” Finn told her. “In fact, I'm sure he'll be mad as a rattler when he finds out what happened. I know I would.”

  Eva looked up at him. “And why is that, sir?”

  He stared at her. Her look was one of pure curiosity. “What man wouldn't? A delicate creature like yerself come to marry him, then have such a horrible turn of events. It's amazing you didn't break something.”

  “I'm glad I didn't,” she said with a look of relief.

  “Why don't you go and fetch the gentleman for her?” suggested Birdie. “I’m sure he’ll be worried when he realizes the stage is late. Then he can tend to his bride and take her home.”

  “I have his name and address in my reticule,” offered Eva.

  “Fine,” he said as his back stiffened once again, this time not out of annoyance with the deputy, but in disappointment. “I’ll see to it for ye, ma'am.”