A Mail-Order Christmas Bride Read online

  “You might act a little congratulatory, Sissy,” Ronnie chided with a masculine sniff. “We got good money to spend on some Christmas trifles. Come on. We can leave, darlin’.”

  Oh, darlin’. Phoebe couldn’t breathe. The word slipped so easily from his mouth into her ear. As if he’d practiced the entire four months of their courtship. “No, it’s all right. Introduce me.”

  Ronnie bowed, obeyed. “Phoebe, Missus Sissy Krantz Rexweiler.”

  Suddenly, Sissy’s sour face bloomed with a smile. “Pleased. And I meant no disrespect, Miss Pierce. Ronnie’s been a hard nut to crack, is all. Now, I’ve got some fine Yuletide items I ordered from the catalog. You’re bound to find something. Hand-blown glass angels from Germany across the sea. A manger scene made of Swedish wheat. What…but, if I may ask? When are the nuptials? Are…the townsfolk invited?” Her head dipped, shy, but her eyes were bright.

  “’Course,” Ronnie intoned, friendly again. “Christmas Eve Vespers.”

  “Oh, landsakes! This very night?” Sissy’s eyes grew as big as the glass-blown pinecone hanging from a green ribbon. “What a masterful secret you have managed to keep, Ronald. Are you all set, Miss Pierce, with your bridal attire?”

  “Oh.” Phoebe spread her free hand across her fir-green skirt, fluttered it at her hat. “My sister and brother-in-law—” Her lips twisted with thoughts of Lester, and Ronnie’s handsome brow rose in question. Ah, someday soon she’d explain the complicated maneuvers that had led her to Aunt Augusta, which, in turn, led her here. Led her to Ronnie’s side. Led her to ache with longing for his lips. Her thoughts drifted into desire.

  That day just wouldn’t be today. Not her wedding day.

  “What?” Sissy tossed in.

  “Pardon?”

  “What about your in-laws?

  “Oh, they gifted me with this lovely ensemble.” Phoebe held out the edges of her skirt. “It’ll do just fine.”

  “But…” Sissy shrieked, hands flapping at the air, “it’s bad luck for a man to see his bride’s apparel. Beforehand. You must have something special. Now, you shoo, Ronnie. I’ll fix up this pretty lady just fine.”

  “Not too fine. We got coffee to get and tree trimming to do.”

  “Whatever I concoct right now, I’ll keep on me.” Hands on hips, Sissy acted and sounded about ninety. Phoebe hid a smile. “I will find her at the church before…before you head on in. Ronnie, you won’t see a thing.”

  Phoebe hated Ronnie to leave her side, but Sissy had turned friendly. Something specially bridal was hard to resist. With a nod, she pointed Ronnie toward a skinny stalk with feathers instead of pine branches. Shiny angels and other shapes hung on it like fruit. With one tragic toss of his head, Ronnie picked at the baubles.

  Sissy took firm command and eyed Phoebe’s hat and empty hands. “Now, you…hmmm. I do stock some silk red roses. I’ll wind ’em up with some plaid ribbon. You’ll have a fine festive bouquet. I am sure I can find some netting to hide your blush. A tiny veil, but a veil nonetheless.” Her eyes closed in deep thought. “I’ve just the thing.”

  The storekeeper toddled off to the back, and she emerged with a sprig of mistletoe and a stem of holly. And a fluff of cream colored netting. Delight and friendship filled her smile.

  “Sure as shooting, Miss Pierce, I can trim your hat just like a tree.” Her fingers moved as fast as she talked. “It might mean you leaving your chapeau here with me until church…I’ve got a sturdy hat stand where it can rest. I’ll take good care of it. I’ll take good care of you.” Her vinegar had evaporated. Her smile was true, eyes shy.

  Sudden happiness burst through Phoebe. Had she actually made a friend? “Oh, Mrs. Rexweiler…”

  “Oh, landsakes. Why couldn’t I have wed a Smith or a Jones?” Friendly laugh again. “I was baptized Cecilia. But folks hereabout are stuck on Sissy.” She rolled her eyes. “Reckon I’ll always sound six years old. And I already got three young’uns of my own.”

  “And you must call me Phoebe.” She held out her hand for a ladylike shake, but Sissy spurted over the counter like a child ready to run off after stealing something. Gathering Phoebe close, Sissy hugged her like a long lost friend.

  It had been a day of many emotions, and, Phoebe heated, many more to come. Joy exploded through her. A bridegroom. A friend. “Sissy, I mean. My sister, um, can’t be here. Could you find it in your heart to…stand up for me?”

  “Why, I’d be honored beyond any imagination. Welcome to East Slope, my friend.” Sissy’s homespun face shone, and she curtsied. Even in a calico apron, her gesture was elegant.

  Phoebe felt Ronnie’s warm gaze and turned to his smile and slight headshake, for he’d heard every word.

  Oh. The butterflies flew against her heart in a merry dance. She had a veil, a bridesmaid. And a bridegroom.

  Chapter Four

  Phoebe’s soft cheeks pinked like some kind of flower he couldn’t name. Ronnie swallowed hard while Sissy twisted ribbons and leaves around a puff of fishing net.

  Floorboards creaked as he walked over. “Thanks, kindly, Sissy.” He meant it. Phoebe held out her hand to him, and his fingers exploded when they wound around hers.

  “Darlin’,” he murmured.

  His bride blushed again, and her perfume sent up a garden in his nose. Every inch of his skin flamed. Oh, the darlin’ slipped out so calm and easy, no matter his heart holding a fistfight with his lungs. The hundredth round of a boxing match. He hadn’t caught his breath yet after beholding her step from the train like an angel through a cloud.

  And she’d taken off her gloves. Flesh meeting flesh turned his toes to fire all over again.

  How could he wait to make her his own? How had Tremaine made such a fine decision to fetch him a bride?

  Sissy shoved at both of them, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Now you two run along. I’ll tend to all this. And I’ll toss in some trinkets for your tree as a wedding gift. Get some supper. I’ll meet up with you at the tree-trim. I’m closing up shop about now to boot.”

  After a hug for Sissy, Phoebe slid her arm through his elbow. The fire burned through him. He hoped she could feel it, too.

  “You hungry?” His voice dipped.

  She shook her head. Hair the color of Ma’s old mahogany dining table danced like springs across her neck. Most of it was tied in a tight coil. He couldn’t wait to unroll it all, have it uncurl across his pillow… His manliness cramped.

  “Perhaps a cup of tea. And I’ll certainly need to tend to my toilette before the wedding.”

  “Well, Miz Edna, our innkeeper can make provisions, I’m sure.” Whatever tending her toilette meant. “Ranch’s too far afield. Never make it back here in time for the vows.” His skin rustled. Vows. His. Soon he’d have a bride in his arms, in his heart. In his bed. He tingled everywhere, but mostly in the notch of his trousers.

  He wrapped her purple cape around her and held open the door. Cold air set her some of her hair free. Oh, praise the Lord, Ronnie’d made a match in heaven. Or else, Tremmie had. He’d be thanking his brother forever and a day.

  And then some.

  “Oh, Ronnie…look!” Phoebe’s hand warmed his.

  Spires of setting sun tickled his world to rosy gold.

  Around them, East Slope did depict that Dickens story Ma had loved to read aloud to him and Tremmie as boys. Noise. Kids. Long-handled bedwarmers and iron skillets roasting chestnuts in a bonfire by the livery. A few members of the choir rehearsing a carol on the church steps. The lamplighter starting his nightly job. A snowflake now and again. Best of all, him and his Christmas present. A bride, all his own.

  “It is indeed beautiful.” He said it while looking down only at her.

  Her cheeks grew roses again. “I take it you’re…you’re not disappointed in me? After all this time and miles, I mean. Just a bride on paper. Until…” She glanced at her toes but still walked straight. “Until today.”

  Her words shook and shivered in the wind. Eyes bloomed like columbin
e…He brought her hand to his mouth. “No doubts in my head at all, my Phoebe. You are real. God’s true blessing to me this day. And…and—” He tripped over what to say next. Someday no doubt, he’d tell her the truth. No matter Tremmie’s advice. But love had wormed its way into his heart, all afternoon reading her letters. Tremmie might have done the impersonating and Ellie and Judy the letter writing, but they’d seen into his lonely heart and made things right.

  Made things real.

  “And what, darling?” The word matched her bashful eyes.

  He grinned. “And a true gift to my kinfolk, as well. They’ll be thrilled all over, us matching up. I promise you that.”

  She stopped in front of the tinsmith like she was thinking hard. “Did you ever? I mean, did you ever wonder if any of it was…unreal?”

  “Not catching your drift, darlin’.”

  “I mean, did you ever think my photograph…um…was someone else? Or my letters written by another hand? Did it ever pass your mind?”

  He started, hoped she didn’t notice. Made a big deal about buttoning his top button. An odd question for him to hear, being his matchmaking had been a group effort and none of his nevermind at all. Until today. But no. No doubts had ever simmered on this day after taking in all of her loving written words. “Not for a second, Phoebe, my love.”

  He loved the taste of her name on his tongue.

  “Then, a merry Christmas to all of us.” Her laughter sang like the choir just finishing up.

  Their boot heels crunched on the boardwalk to the boardinghouse and its dining room. “So…did they know? Your kinfolk? About you seeking a mail-order bride?”

  The question stumbled his toes across an icy patch, and his breath hitched into white puffs. How to answer and not tell a lie? “Uh, yes. I can truthfully say they all supported this marriage from the get-go. Now, ’bout you?”

  Her cheeks reddened in the wind blowing off Johnny’s Mountain. “Oh, indeed. My sister and my auntie were, uh…ever so enthusiastic.”

  “Wish they could have accompanied you.” He realized his selfishness. Well, Tremmie and everybody else’s selfishness, that is. Making Phoebe trek so far, and at Christmas. “You, being all alone on your wedding day. I mean, our wedding day. And Christmas, to boot.”

  “Not alone. I have you.” The gaze in her eyes told him stories he couldn’t wait to read.

  Aw, she loved him. And he loved her. What else did they need?

  “Well, maybe we can get ’em here for a visit. Soon’s we settle in.”

  “I…think that’s a likely possibility.” She reached up to touch his face. “Having experienced the voyage by train, it wasn’t an onerous journey at all.”

  Ronnie bent to dash a public kiss on her cheek, ached to kiss her for real. Didn’t care much about the big words. Around them, folks hollered and hailed, and Ronnie realized he’d never have to introduce Phoebe to anybody. The gossips in the mercantile had already spread the gospel about his marriage.

  By then, they’d reached the boardinghouse. He swept off his Stetson and held the door for his bride.

  “Very gallant. Just what I expected.” Phoebe smiled up at him and his breath stopped. Some of it was the hot air gushing outside from inside. “I…you know. I read the dime novels.”

  Ronnie stiffened. Did she…suspect his past? But he couldn’t inquire right then. For the innkeeper, Edna Gottlieb, suddenly surged around a corner. Already clad in her going-to-meeting finery, she directed them to a cozy table in her front parlor. Business always picked up during Yuletide, and from the main dining room, a family-style meal was carrying on something fierce. Somehow, Miz Edna must have reckoned he and his bride could use some quiet time.

  But what should he say next?

  “I’ll bring you some supper,” Miz Edna said kindly, and in her, Ronnie recognized the selfsame sweetness of his ma. “And congratulations to you both.”

  She swept off before Ronnie could make introductions, but, again, realized he wouldn’t need to. News good and bad spread in East Slope like the wildfire that had once burned the place to a crisp.

  But once alone, he had to know. “You do? Why?”

  Lashes flitted over Phoebe’s blue eyes. “I beg pardon. Do what?”

  Ronnie flapped his own lashes to hide any lingering guilt. “Read those dime novels.”

  “Oh.” Her laugh calmed him. “The romance, the danger. And the cowboy is always such a gentleman. Even the outlaws. But Ronnie…” Her voice slowed to molasses. “I brought along a new tome. To read on the train. About Black Ankles, you know. The great and valiant outlaw.”

  The stuffy room got him shivering, but he stayed as calm as he might. He couldn’t really condemn himself and his prior occupation out loud, but he had to say something.

  “Outlawing’s not so brave and valiant, I hear,” he admitted, careful, pretending a big deal about setting his knife, fork, and spoon in a straight line.

  “Oh, I know that.” Her smile all but blinded him when he looked up. “I am a law-abiding woman, but those stories. Why, at times—before I, you know, sought out a husband, I would almost feel Black Ankles sweep me up on his horse and out of danger.”

  Ronnie’s throat dried up, so he drained a cup of hot tea and all but burned his throat to a crisp, too. “Well, I’ll be doing all of that now. You won’t ever need some…outlaw.”

  Her blushing lips called out for a kiss. “Of course. What I meant to say was, I had thought to occupy my mind on the trip reading my novel. But your letters so distracted me. I re-read them a dozen times or more. I can practically recite them by now. And now, I’m here.” She held his hand to her lips, and his rump almost left his chair. “Here. Me. In the Wild West. I confess, I feel as if I almost belong. As if we’ve known each other forever. Ronnie, you are your words and actions come to life.”

  She glowed like she never imagined his outlaw connections, and dagnab it, while relieved, he growled, quiet-like. All those words she memorized weren’t his at all! Then, he chose his next words all by himself and spoke them from the heart.

  “Darlin’, no matter what brought you into my life, I hope you’re here to stay. However you got here, I don’t ever want you to leave.”

  “I will never leave you.” She breathed the words into his fingers. “And we owe it all to Miss Mamie’s Hearts and Hands Club.”

  He slung his arm across her shoulders and hugged her tight.

  “Yes, indeed. What a good woman.”

  “Indeed.” Phoebe sipped tea like a princess probably did. Little finger pointing to nothing in particular. “When will I be meeting your brother?” she asked, with a lovely smile. “And I admit, I don’t remember the Maroney sisters well. But it should prove us in good stead to become reacquainted.”

  “I expect my folks to be on hand to trim the tree out there.”

  The soft peace of the parlor pleased him, the outlaw conversation having slid on. That, and being alone with Phoebe without anybody else in eyeshot or earshot, or hanging around. Might as well enjoy the quiet, for once his kin arrived, nobody hobbled their lips.

  Miz Edna brought in plates heaped with pot roast and boiled turnips, then lit out and shut the door tight.

  Ronnie took a bite, took a long while to chew and swallow it. Watched her eat in so delicate a manner she might be eating glass. Oh, she was lovely, but he had another thought, too. Fixing up his own vittles was a hateful task, and he considered how Phoebe might fare in the kitchen. Seemed a worthy topic of discussion, but Tremmie hadn’t thought to bring it up. And Phoebe hadn’t mentioned it at all

  “Tell me more about them.”

  “Elspeth and Hez got three sons by now, and a fourth on its way. My brother and Judy got themselves a little toddling boy. But they’re a noisy bunch. Specially if Hezekiah drags his granny along.” He snorted. “A mean old snake, that one.”

  Phoebe swallowed a wad of turnips but laughed dainty while she did. “I’m sure she’s a treat to meet.”

  Ronnie l
aughed louder. “I mean, you’ll be spending the rest of your life right underfoot. Might be nice to keep some peace and quiet at hand, right now. Likely, we should just hunker down in here ’til church. If you don’t mind. We can keep everything in sight through this fine window, here, right by our table.”

  He wiggled the curtain. Lamplight glistened on snow outside. The large pine grew baubles and knick knacks like a fruit tree bore apples. Beautiful. Phoebe might not want to miss it…

  She set down her fork and took his hand. “I think some quiet time alone might not be amiss. Sometimes, I hear my sister’s nagging in my sleep.”

  With a big linen square, Ronnie wiped his mouth, then held her fingers against it. “Try as you might, you got nothing on a lookalike twin.”

  Phoebe laid a hand over his. “Despite the fact that I quite dislike my brother-in-law, he does sometimes gain my sympathy.”

  “All our fool kin aside, I admit my reasoning is purely selfish. I want to keep you to myself for a little while. I’d like privacy.” He swept the curtain closed and hunched his chair closer to her. “For this.”

  Ronnie held her chin in his hands like a precious treasure. Their gazes glued together before her lashes fluttered upon her cheeks like butterfly wings. Their lips touched. For a flash he tasted the sugar of her tea, and he drank in her love.

  Her hand met his cheek and turned his body to fire.

  Chapter Five

  The church’s tiny vestibule teemed with people hustling in for services, but most of all, Ronnie’s noisy clan. And he’d been right about the cantankerous granny. What an old hen. Phoebe grinned, wondered why she’d ever thought Auntie Augusta tough and shrill. After embraces and well-wishes and the Maroney sisters dredging up memories, the herd finally took their seats, leaving only Tremaine, Sissy…and Ronnie.

  Phoebe’s heart rattled against her ribs, gentling itself with love. Oh, her wedding was almost upon her. Ronnie’s eyes were bright in the candle glow, his hand tender at her back.

  Tremaine kissed her cheek, but Sissy had to cluck now.