Mail Order Bride: Winter (Bride For All Seasons 4)

from you once again at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely yours,

Ualraig

“Oh, bother!” cried Hannah in exasperation, upon perusing this missive. “But what do you look like? What sort of personality quirks do you have? And where, for heaven’s sake, do you live? How can you possibly reveal so little in so many words?”

And just what, pray tell, did he mean by that enigmatic phrase about acceding all rights that a husband would normally expect from his wife?

It was a chilly, drizzly, dreary Sunday morning. Hannah attended early church services, had remained for sociality and a potluck dinner in the hall afterward. The Forresters were absent; she discovered later, upon chatting with Molly, that Camellia had awoken with a debilitating headache, and Ben hadn’t wanted to leave her alone. Nor had the sheriff made an appearance; as officer in charge of enforcing the law for today, he was probably taking his leisure behind the barricade of his desk.

“Did you scurry on over to the stagecoach station yesterday to wave my boss a fond farewell?” asked Letitia with a grin. She had brought her bowl of hearty corn chowder, topped by baking powder biscuits, and a cup of steaming-hot coffee to the corner table where her sister had settled in.

“Of course not,” Hannah replied crossly. “Why should I? It would make more sense for you to be there, in case he had any last-minute instructions.”

“Oh, he gave me plenty of those, all right. Verbal and written, with notes to check all his medical books for anything he hadn’t already mentioned.”

Hannah eyed her sister curiously. “Do you feel confident about your capabilities for the enormous task he’s set for you?”

“Thank you so much for reminding me!” A brief trill of laughter. “I have mixed feelings, not surprisingly. Mostly about how inadequate my abilities might be. But I take comfort in the fact that at least this time he’s leaving someone in the town with a bit of medical knowledge. During his past trips, you know, there was no one here at all. So, tell me, Hen,” she paused for a sip of coffee, “all about how Gabe was able to foist his cats off onto you.”

Hannah scooted herself over to make room, as Molly appeared with her own plate and utensils. “Huh. What choice did he have, when you turned him down flat?”

“I couldn’t very well turn him down flat,” protested Letty, “when he never asked me.”

“Never asked you? But he said—”

“You can’t believe a word out of that man’s mouth,” was Molly’s jaundiced opinion. All three siblings were sitting together, now, watching their husbands congregate on the outer rim of the crowd to talk over whatever male subjects might come up.

“Oh, don’t be that way.” Letty was spooning up the chowder with gusto. Ambrosia. She decided she might need to ask for another serving. “Gabe is the best of the lot. He didn’t ask me, because he wanted to ask you.”

“Why?”

Letitia’s famous moonstone-blue eyes, whose color and intensity had first caught the adoring attention of her mail order groom, crinkled with amusement. “Because he’s courting you, dear Hen.”

A half-choke, a splutter, and a gasp for breath as Hannah, caught unaware, set down her mug with a thump. “What?”

“Of course he is.” Delicately Molly bit into a chunk of cornbread dripping with butter. “Anyone with half a brain could see it.”

“Well, I have half a brain,” said Hannah, “and I know you’re right. I’m just in denial.”

Letitia chuckled. “The book he bought for you at Abigail’s shop.”

“That was very special.”

“The box of sweetmeats he presented you at Christmas.”

“He gave all of us a box of sweetmeats,” was Hannah’s retort. “But I see what you mean.”

“And now cats. Not one, but three.” Her two adversaries, obviously cohorts in crime, exchanged an amused glance. Then giggled.

“May I remind you that he has given me not one single cat, let alone three. He merely put them into my care while he’s gone. And I thought it would be fun to take care of them. And I’ll give them back when he returns.”

To all intents and purposes, Letty was bent upon spooning up more chowder. “M’h’m.”

Molly was, meanwhile, concentrating on the addition of sugar to her mug of tea. “M’h’

m.”