Read Online A Mid-Summer's Mail-Order Bride by Kit Morgan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kit Morgan
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shook her head, eyes wide. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Of course! What makes you think there’s anything wrong?”
“You just looked kind of … strange, that’s all.”
“I’m fine,” she chirped, perhaps a little too quickly.
“Okay. I just noticed ... I mean, I thought … well, never mind.”
“How can ya know what she’s thinkin’ or feelin’ if you don’t spend any time gettin’ to know each other?” his grandfather asked.
Bernice watched Warren’s jaw tighten. Did he not like the idea?
“True, Grandpa. But …”
“No buts! You too younguns are gonna get to know each other and that’s that! And there’s no better way to do that than a stroll through the orchards. After we have some pie and coffee, you can escort these ladies home.”
“Grandpa, there’s work to do …”
“I know, and part of yer work is escortin’ the ladies. I’ll see to the rest ‘til ya get back.”
“No one escorted them here,” Warren pointed out.
“An oversight on yer part, I’d say! Think of the dangerous road they had to traverse alone!”
Summer fought against a giggle.
Warren rolled his eyes. “Grandpa, the only thing dangerous out in the orchards is that skunk you saw the other day.”
“Ain’t that bad enough? Worse than a run in with a bear in my book. You make sure you see ‘em home safely, ya here?”
Warren sighed. Bernice wished he didn’t sound so forlorn. “Yes, Grandpa. I’ll do my best.”
His grandfather rubbed his hands together in glee and turned to the stove. “This is gonna be a very interesting afternoon of pie and coffee.”
* * *
“Then what happened?” Summer asked, an intense gleam in her eye.
“Betsy hit the man over the head with a frying pan, then … well … she kind of smashed his face with it.” How they’d gotten on the topic of her and Betsy’s kidnapping from the Valentine’s dance, Bernice wasn’t quite sure, but she did find regaling the tale rather fun. Besides, the look of horror on Warren Johnson’s face was worth it.
“Ooh,” Mr. Johnson said as he scrunched up his face. “That had to hurt.”
“Then what happened?” Warren asked, his eyes just as intent on Bernice as Summer’s.
“Then the men rescued us … I guess. Though I think Betsy pretty much already had. I suppose if Garrett Vander and the other men hadn’t showed up, we might still have been in a pickle. But as it was, I believe Betsy would’ve gotten us out of it. She’s very resourceful.”
“Obviously,” Warren said, “Especially with a frying pan.” He sat back in his chair, his pie untouched. He’d been so enthralled with her story he hadn’t taken a single bite, or a sip of coffee. “You were unharmed then? They didn’t …”
Bernice closed her eyes against his words – the same ones her mother had used before going into a tirade of questions and accusations. “No, but I was scared. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”
Warren leaned forward. “You’re a brave girl to have endured such an ordeal.” His eyes roamed her face, and she could sense his admiration and … something else.
“Remind me to tell you of my own encounter with such men,” Summer said. “But right now, I think we better get back.”
Bernice smiled, nodded and scooted her chair away from the table. Before she could make a move to stand, Warren was out of his and heading her way. She instinctively waited as he came around behind her. These were the manners Professor Hamilton and Cecil Winters had taught her, and she wondered where he’d learned them – from his grandfather? Or when he was away at school? “Thank you,” she said with a smile and a nod of her head as she stood.
“My … my pleasure,” he said, his voice low. He cleared his throat. “I’ll see the ladies home now, Grandpa.”
“Ya do that, boy. I’ll just go out and see what mischief I can get into while yer gone.”
“He can’t get into too much,” he told
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Of course! What makes you think there’s anything wrong?”
“You just looked kind of … strange, that’s all.”
“I’m fine,” she chirped, perhaps a little too quickly.
“Okay. I just noticed ... I mean, I thought … well, never mind.”
“How can ya know what she’s thinkin’ or feelin’ if you don’t spend any time gettin’ to know each other?” his grandfather asked.
Bernice watched Warren’s jaw tighten. Did he not like the idea?
“True, Grandpa. But …”
“No buts! You too younguns are gonna get to know each other and that’s that! And there’s no better way to do that than a stroll through the orchards. After we have some pie and coffee, you can escort these ladies home.”
“Grandpa, there’s work to do …”
“I know, and part of yer work is escortin’ the ladies. I’ll see to the rest ‘til ya get back.”
“No one escorted them here,” Warren pointed out.
“An oversight on yer part, I’d say! Think of the dangerous road they had to traverse alone!”
Summer fought against a giggle.
Warren rolled his eyes. “Grandpa, the only thing dangerous out in the orchards is that skunk you saw the other day.”
“Ain’t that bad enough? Worse than a run in with a bear in my book. You make sure you see ‘em home safely, ya here?”
Warren sighed. Bernice wished he didn’t sound so forlorn. “Yes, Grandpa. I’ll do my best.”
His grandfather rubbed his hands together in glee and turned to the stove. “This is gonna be a very interesting afternoon of pie and coffee.”
* * *
“Then what happened?” Summer asked, an intense gleam in her eye.
“Betsy hit the man over the head with a frying pan, then … well … she kind of smashed his face with it.” How they’d gotten on the topic of her and Betsy’s kidnapping from the Valentine’s dance, Bernice wasn’t quite sure, but she did find regaling the tale rather fun. Besides, the look of horror on Warren Johnson’s face was worth it.
“Ooh,” Mr. Johnson said as he scrunched up his face. “That had to hurt.”
“Then what happened?” Warren asked, his eyes just as intent on Bernice as Summer’s.
“Then the men rescued us … I guess. Though I think Betsy pretty much already had. I suppose if Garrett Vander and the other men hadn’t showed up, we might still have been in a pickle. But as it was, I believe Betsy would’ve gotten us out of it. She’s very resourceful.”
“Obviously,” Warren said, “Especially with a frying pan.” He sat back in his chair, his pie untouched. He’d been so enthralled with her story he hadn’t taken a single bite, or a sip of coffee. “You were unharmed then? They didn’t …”
Bernice closed her eyes against his words – the same ones her mother had used before going into a tirade of questions and accusations. “No, but I was scared. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”
Warren leaned forward. “You’re a brave girl to have endured such an ordeal.” His eyes roamed her face, and she could sense his admiration and … something else.
“Remind me to tell you of my own encounter with such men,” Summer said. “But right now, I think we better get back.”
Bernice smiled, nodded and scooted her chair away from the table. Before she could make a move to stand, Warren was out of his and heading her way. She instinctively waited as he came around behind her. These were the manners Professor Hamilton and Cecil Winters had taught her, and she wondered where he’d learned them – from his grandfather? Or when he was away at school? “Thank you,” she said with a smile and a nod of her head as she stood.
“My … my pleasure,” he said, his voice low. He cleared his throat. “I’ll see the ladies home now, Grandpa.”
“Ya do that, boy. I’ll just go out and see what mischief I can get into while yer gone.”
“He can’t get into too much,” he told
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