Read Mail Order Bride: The Master: A Historical Mail Order Bride Story (Mail Order Brides) Online
Authors: Lily Wilspur
Mail Order Bride: The Master: A Historical Mail Order Bride Story (Mail Order Brides)
Thank you for downloading this Book.
Join my mailing list and get updates on new releases,
free
books, giveaways, and other great books.
****
L
ILY
W
ILSPUR
Mail Order Bride
The Master
Dedication
To YOU, The reader.
Thank you for your support.
Thank you for your emails.
Thank you for your reviews.
Thank you for reading and joining me on this road.
Contents
“Did you see her? She just got off the train.”
“I saw her. She’s tall, with curly brown hair.”
“She’s pretty. And she looked nice. I liked her.”
“You don’t even know her!”
“I still liked her.”
Ten-year-old Matthew Burke huddled behind the corner of the school house with his friends. They spoke in low murmurs to prevent anyone from over-hearing their conversation. Only a few more minutes remained before the School Master rang the bell to call them back inside for the rest of the day’s lessons. They had to make use of every spare moment.
“I’m going back around to the station just as soon as school gets out,” Alan Watkins announced. “You should come with me, Matthew. I want to get another good look at her.”
“Has the Master seen her yet?” Timothy Porter asked.
“He’s been here at the schoolhouse all day,” Alan replied. “He hasn’t had a chance to get over to the station to see her. Imagine marrying someone you’ve never even met before! I couldn’t do it.”
“My father says its blame foolishness,” Timothy added. “The person could have something wrong with them, or they could be permanently deranged. You never know what you’re going to get. And once you marry them, you’re stuck with them for life.”
“What does ‘permanently deranged’ mean?”Matthew asked.
Timothy waved his hand. “Oh, I don’t know! But that’s what my father says, so it must be true.”
“Well,” Matthew put in. “we can only wait until Sunday to see if the Master actually marries her. Maybe she’ll change her mind at the last second. Or maybe the Master won’t like her and he’ll send her home.”
“Does that really happen?” Timothy asked.
“I don’t know,” Matthew replied, “but I’m going to make sure I go to church on Sunday so I can see the wedding.”
“What?” Timothy gasped. “You, go to church? I never thought I’d live to see the day. Your father usually has to strap you just to get you out of bed on Sunday morning.”
“Maybe he does,” Matthew admitted. “But this is different. I’m going to be there. I don’t care if the creeks rise and the road washes out. I’m going to see the Master get married.”
In spite of their best intentions, their voices rose with their excitement. Felix Bartlett overheard them and sidled over to their meeting. “What are you talking about? Did I hear you mention the Master’s new bride?”
“We aren’t talking to you, Felix,” Alan snarled. “You mind your own business and leave us alone.”
“I can go wherever I want,” Felix declared. “You can’t stop me. I heard you talking about the Master’s bride.”
“No, we weren’t,” Timothy replied.
“So what if we were?” Matthew interjected. “It still doesn’t concern you.”
“It does so concern me,” Felix shot back. “I happen to know she got off the train this morning, and I saw my father riding over to the station when we came out of the schoolhouse just now. He told me this morning he was going to go over there and meet her before the Master had a chance to get away.”
Matthew’s eyes widened, and he caught his breath. “What does your father want with the Master’s bride?”
Felix propped his fists on his hips. “My father says he’s gonna take that bride for himself. He says he’s gonna get to her before the Master even meets her at the station. And he says he’s going to come to the church on Sunday and see to it that the Master doesn’t marry her. He says the Master is a lily-livered coward. He’ll never stand up to my father.”
“What does your father have against the Master?” Matthew asked. “Your father is always going out of his way to make the Master’s life as hard as he can.”
“My father can’t stand the Master,” Felix sneered. “He says the Master’s head is too big for his body.”
Timothy rubbed his jaw. “His head looks about the right size to me.”
“My father says,” Felix went on. “That the Master has to open a window just to make room for his big head.”
“What does that mean?” Timothy asked.
“I don’t know,” Felix snapped. “But that’s what he says. He says he’s going to make it so hot for the Master that he’ll leave town. He says what we need is a lady schoolteacher.”
“I like the Master,” Matthew put in. “He’s kind and patient with all the children in the school, especially the little ones, and he knows more than just about everyone else in this town. I think we should keep him.”
Alan jabbed his finger at Felix. “Your father just wants a lady schoolteacher so he can go after her, too. He goes after every lady he lays his eyes on.”
Felix clenched his fists and puffed up his shoulders. “Don’t you dare say one word against my
father!”
Just then, the school bell clanged. Timothy and Matthew stepped back from the confrontation, breaking the circle. But Alan and Felix faced each other for another ominous moment. The ball clattered a second time, and Felix stepped back.
He held up a warning finger at Alan. “Don’t you talk against my father.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Alan sneered. “All you ever do is
hide behind your father.”
Felix took another step toward the schoolhouse door. “You know what will happen to you if you cross my father. You better watch yourself.” He disappeared around the corner into the schoolhouse.
The three remaining boys lingered in the cloud of tension Felix left behind. “You better be careful around Felix,” Matthew told Alan. “You know Noah Bartlett is dangerous when he doesn’t like somebody.”
“Felix is a coward,” Alan spat. “He wants someone to give him a solid thrashing.”
“Someone should tell the Master that Noah Bartlett is going after his new bride,” Timothy put in.
“But what can the Master do?” Matthew asked. “No one dares stand up to Noah.”
“And who will tell the Master?” Alan asked. “Whoever does it will have Noah coming after him, too.”
“You should tell him, Matthew,” Timothy suggested.
“Me?” Matthew gasped. “Why me?”
“The Master likes you,” Timothy pointed out. “He always takes extra time to help you with your lessons. He says you have a special gift. You should tell him. No one else will do it.”
“I don’t want to get mixed up in this,” Matthew argued. “I’ve managed to stay clear of Felix for five years. I don’t want him or his father after me now.”
The final bell rang, and the boys dispersed. Matthew always made sure to get to his lessons on time but this time, he hesitated outside the schoolhouse door. The Master stood at the front of the schoolroom. Matthew took a long look at him before he went to his desk.
Matthew couldn’t keep his eyes off the Master for the rest of the day. He couldn’t concentrate on his lessons at all, and when the Master called on him to recite them, he failed miserably and sat down in disgrace.
He hung his head. He prided himself on learning the lessons well and impressing the Master. He never missed a lesson, and he even studied by the fire at home at night to ensure he knew them well in the morning.
The Master studied Matthew quizzically, but said nothing and moved on to the next pupil. Only after he turned away did Matthew raise his eyes and return to watching him.
The School Master stood a full six inches taller than every other man in the village. But he didn’t impose himself on anyone. He spoke politely to everyone and maintained a genteel, polished bearing when he walked through the streets.
He never beat the children at school. He never even scolded them when they neglected their lessons or failed to understand something. He only stared at them in a scrutinizing way he had and encouraged them to try again. His word and the fear of disappointing him inspired all the children to study much harder than they would have if he had beaten them.
Matthew worshiped him and hung on every compliment and encouragement he could wring from him. After years of torture from the previous School Master, in which his education suffered from the pure agony of going to school, Matthew blossomed under the Master’s steady kindness and praise. He loved learning now as passionately as he loved the Master. Learning and the Master became inextricably intertwined in Matthew’s mind.
The Master’s one conceit was his black frock coat. He wore it every day and everywhere. He kept it immaculately brushed and had a habit of flipping its skirts around his legs when he turned around. When he did this in the silence of the classroom, the hem of the coat snapped before it settled back into place.
The Master’s mail-order bride was the talk of the village. Everyone, from the oldest crone to the youngest child, kept their eyes on the train station for her arrival. Like Matthew, even those who studiously avoided the church planned to attend the wedding. It promised to be the event of the decade in that small town.
Before that day, Matthew rejoiced at the Master’s upcoming happiness. No one deserved a wife to make him happy more than the Master. And he was a handsome man with neat brown hair and clear green eyes. His sturdy body filled the shoulders of his frock coat and cut a fine figure when he strolled around the village.
Now that he knew Noah Bartlett planned to ambush the Master’s bride and disrupt the wedding, Matthew quaked in his heart. Even without the bride, the Master should flee the town to get away from the predations of Noah. Timothy was right. Someone ought to warn the Master. Someone should tell him he and his bride were in danger. But who?
Matthew lost himself in his reverie. The next thing he knew, the Master was staring into his eyes. The other children filed out of the schoolhouse. Matthew looked around in confusion. The whole second part of the day must have passed without his realizing it.
“Is everything all right, Matthew?” the Master asked.
Matthew floundered in search of an appropriate response that would allow him to escape, but nothing came to him. He could only stare at the Master. He panted and
gasped, opening and closing his mouth again and again.
“Matthew,” the Master said again. “Is anything the matter? You don’t look well. You should go home. Your mother will see to you.”
“Sir…” Matthew began.
The Master cocked his head, listening. Matthew struggled to get away, but he found himself rooted to the spot. The Master let a trace of a smile creep over his face before he turned back toward his lectern.
Matthew couldn’t let him get away. He had to act. “Sir…”
The Master looked at him again. “What is it, Matthew?”
Matthew tried again. “Sir, I just wanted…”
“If there’s anything I can do for you,” the Master told him. “
you have only to tell me. You know that. Whatever it is you want to say, I’m listening.”
“Sir,” Matthew blurted out. “It’s about that mail-order bride you got.”
The Master raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”
“She arrived off the train this morning,” Matthew stammered.
“I know that, Matthew,” the Master replied. “What I don’t understand is how
you
know it. You’ve been here at school all morning, just as I’ve been.”
“Alan saw her there on his way to school,” Matthew confessed. “He told us out in the yard just now.”
“All right,” the Master replied. “So she arrived off the train. What about it?”
“It’s just that…” Matthew stopped again. Didn’t he realize he was taking his life in his hands by interfering with the Bartlett’s business? Didn’t the Master realize it?
“Yes?” the Master prompted. “It’s just what?”
Matthew broke into a sweat. “Well, Sir, Felix overheard us talking about her. He said that his father was riding over to the station to get to her before you.”
The Master went absolutely motionless. Matthew thought he might sink into the floor under the intensity of the Master’s gaze.
“Felix says,” Matthew continued. “
he says his father is going to come to the church on Sunday to make sure you don’t marry that lady. He says his father is going to take her for himself.”
“Is that what he says?” the Master murmured under his breath.
Matthew cast his eyes down to the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” the Master asked.
“It’s just that the Bartletts are so nasty to everyone,” Matthew explained. “I hate to see you mixed up with them.”
The Master snorted. “I’d be mixed up with them even if you hadn’t told me their plans. I should be the one apologizing to you for getting you mixed up in something that doesn’t concern you.”
Matthew gaped at the Master. “You should?”
The Master nodded. “You’ve done remarkably well keeping out of Felix’s way when he’s made every effort to antagonize you and your friends. Anyway, I’m grateful to you for telling me about the
Bartletts.”
“You are?” This was more reward than Matthew ever dreamed possible. The Master—grateful to him!
The Master smiled. “You’ve done me a mighty service. I won’t forget it.”
“But you should get away,” Matthew insisted. “You and your bride should get out of this territory. You should go where Noah Bartlett can’t find you. You can’t go to the church on Sunday. He’ll kill you.”
The Master chuckled and put a handful of books inside his lectern. “Are you planning to go to the church on Sunday, Matthew?”
Matthew blushed. “I was
thinkin’ I might give it a try.”
The Master flipped his skirts and meandered toward the door. “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about Noah Bartlett killing me on Sunday. You might be surprised at what you see.” He paused at the door and examined Matthew over his shoulder. “Are you going home now, Matthew? Do you have anywhere you need to be right now?”
“No, Sir,” Matthew answered.
“Then come along with me, if you please.” The Master headed out the door. “I have a job for you.”
Matthew ran to catch up with him. “Where are we going?”
“To the train station,” the Master told him. “I’ll take the lady to the hotel. She can stay there until Sunday. I may need your help carrying her baggage.”