RNWMP: Bride for Jonathan (Mail Order Mounties Book 8) Read online

  As they went, Elaine wondered why Ann hadn’t just left her own bucket of water at the well and then gone back for it, but she supposed that carrying both was part of Ann’s way.

  Chapter Eleven

  Another Monday rolled around, and time for another trip into Moose Lick. Elaine didn’t need as many supplies this time, so she tucked her few items into the saddlebags and went off to meet with the other brides.

  “Did you have a nice visit with the other wives?” Jonathan asked as they rode back home.

  “I really did. I’m grateful we traveled out here together—you’re wonderful and I’m so glad we’re married, but there’s something about meeting together with other women that fills a spot in my heart.”

  “I think it’s because I don’t giggle as much as your friends,” he said.

  She laughed. “I’m absolutely sure that’s it.”

  “Or the fact that they give you ridiculously huge presents.”

  She reached up and touched the hat she was wearing. Isabelle had been hard at work cleaning out her trunks and getting rid of some of the things she’d brought, knowing she could never fit everything in her tiny cabin, and she’d given Elaine a blue wide-brimmed hat. She’d never had anything so current in fashion. She had no idea where she’d ever wear it. “They say it’s the thought that counts.”

  “I think it will look nice with your new blue dress. How’s that coming along?”

  “A bit slowly. I wanted to get the curtains and the tablecloth done first.”

  They chatted about this and that as they rode. She had to keep biting her tongue—Isabelle had taken home the baby cougar from their get-together, and she wanted to tell Jonathan about it. But it wasn’t her secret to share.

  Once back at the cabin, she started some dinner, and he sat down to carve out a new wooden spoon for the kitchen. She’d expressed a desire for one that morning, and she loved how he was making it happen so quickly.

  “Do you mind if I ask a question? How did you progress through the academy if you weren’t able to take the examinations?”

  “I spoke to the instructors and arranged to take my entrance exams verbally. I scored high enough that they agreed to continue that way through my training. And out here, Dermot helps me with my reports—or Wesley and Preston do, if Dermot can’t for whatever reason.”

  She paused for a moment as the implications sank in. “The letter I sent you before I arrived . . . who helped you read that?”

  “Wesley. I had a feeling when I received it that Dermot would tease me about it endlessly, so I never let him touch it. Wesley’s a little kinder in that regard.”

  Elaine closed her eyes and breathed with relief. If she’d had any idea that Jonathan wouldn’t be the only one reading it, she never would have included that sappy bit about meeting her own Mr. Darcy. Why had she been so foolishly romantic? “And did Wesley tease you?” she asked, trying to sound as though it really didn’t matter to her one way or the other.

  “No, not much,” Jonathan replied. Then he turned to her with a grin. “Mr. Darcy?”

  “You’re familiar with Jane Austen?”

  “My sister talks about those books all the time. Yes, I did understand your reference, and I found it rather flattering, actually.”

  “I’m glad.” She turned back to the stove. Gracious. She was never again going to write a letter without being absolutely sure who would be reading it on the other end.

  “Yeah, Dermot and Wesley have always been there for me,” Jonathan went on. “Preston too, actually. They see to it that I never embarrass myself in front of people. They read me letters and reports so that when I check in, I’ll know what’s been said. I have a tendency of memorizing my letters and can recite them whenever I’m asked for more information or what have you.”

  “And you thought I wouldn’t respect you if I knew?” She shook her head. “I don’t think you realize how very intelligent you are, Jonathan. To hold all that information in your brain without notes? I told you how useless I am without writing things down—I could never do what you do.”

  He set down the spoon and rose, shaking the sawdust from his trousers as he walked toward her. She’d have to sweep it up later, but she didn’t mind—from the look on his face, she knew he was about to kiss her, and that was worth a little sawdust sweeping in the long run.

  ***

  The next morning, a knock came at the door, and Jonathan rose from the table to answer it. Dermot stood there, holding a bundle in his arms, Isabelle behind him, looking upset.

  “Dermot? What’s going on?” Jonathan asked. “Are you all right, Isabelle?”

  Dermot shook his head. “The ladies have been keeping something from us.” He threw back the blanket covering the top of the bundle, and a small cougar popped its head out of the top and regarded Jonathan with bright eyes.

  He took a step back.

  “Maybe you’d better come in and tell me what’s going on,” he said.

  As soon as they were in the cabin, Isabelle started talking up a storm. “Lisa was out for a walk, and she found Clara, and Clara was hurt, so she took her home, and then Maryanne took her, and then she got passed to me, but Dermot found out, and he says we have to get rid of her, but I don’t think she’s ready.”

  “Ready?” Jonathan was confused. “Ready for what? And who’s Clara?”

  “To go back out into the wild! She needs to recover first!”

  “Clara’s the cougar?”

  “Well, of course! Haven’t you been listening?”

  “Um . . .” Jonathan wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He knew Isabelle was a tender-hearted young woman and he didn’t want to upset her, but he did need to help her understand. “Cougars are wild animals, and they’re used to living in the wild. Chances are that she would have healed up just fine without your . . . help.” The word he really wanted to use was “interference,” but that didn’t seem kind.

  “Which is what I tried to tell her, but I’m not sure she heard me,” Dermot interjected.

  “You should also know that we’ve had a lot of reports that a female cougar has been prowling around. She’s most likely looking for her baby. Your actions, even though they were kindly meant, could have put a lot of people in danger.”

  “I know,” Isabelle said. “But she was hurt, and we wanted to help.”

  “The best thing you can do is let nature take its course,” he explained. “These animals are born with the instincts they need to survive. Her mother would likely have licked the wound clean, and she would have gone on to be perfectly healthy.” He glanced over at Elaine. “Did you know about this?”

  She nodded, her cheeks pink. “I didn’t help hide the baby, but I knew it was going on.”

  He couldn’t believe it. She was so much more intelligent than that. He’d talk to her about it later, though—it wasn’t worth upsetting his wife to discuss it in public. “The cub will have to be released.”

  “That’s my thought exactly and I was going to do it myself, but my wife intervened,” Dermot said, a wry note in his voice. “She believes that we need a releasing ceremony.”

  Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “A releasing ceremony?”

  “That’s right. With all the wives present.”

  “And you need to say a few words,” Isabelle said, turning to Elaine.

  “Me? Why on earth me?”

  “Because the pastor’s not in town right now, and even if he were, he might think it’s sacrilegious, and you have such a nice way with words. You have a poem or something you could read, don’t you?”

  “I’m sure I have something,” Elaine said, seeming flustered, “but shouldn’t we just get on with the business of releasing her? If her mother is looking for her . . .”

  “This is important,” Isabelle explained. “We need to do this.”

  “I’ll go along with it on one condition,” Jonathan said. “We release the cub at the location where the mother was last seen. I don’t want to delay this reunion
any longer than absolutely necessary.” Not that any of this was necessary, but again, some things didn’t need to be said out loud.

  “I agree,” Dermot said. “And I believe the last report was from Moose Lick.”

  “Then by all means, let’s go to Moose Lick,” Jonathan said. “I’ll hitch up the wagon.”

  ***

  As the wagon jounced along the road, Elaine flipped through one of her books of poetry, looking for something that would be suitable for the releasing of a cougar back into the wild. It came as no surprise that there wasn’t something ready made for the occasion—it’s not as though things like that happened all the time. Perhaps her book of quotes instead . . .

  Wesley was standing outside the Mountie office when they pulled up. “What brings you here?” he asked. “Is every day Monday now?”

  “We have an answer as to why that cougar is prowling around,” Dermot said, holding up his bundle of cat.

  “I’m going to need to hear this whole story,” Wesley replied, looking both startled and grim at the same time.

  Twenty minutes later, four tolerant Mounties and their four emotional wives gathered in a circle outside the office, a squirming baby cougar being held in a blanket and becoming squirmier by the second. Elaine swallowed, hoping she could do this moment justice. Her friends had put so much love into the care and keeping of this little cat—she wanted it to be special.

  “As we stand here together today, we do so to say goodbye to Clara, one of God’s creatures that became a friend,” she began. “We are here as stewards on this earth to watch over each other, and Clara gave us the opportunity to practice our stewardship.”

  “Um, Elaine?” Jonathan whispered.

  Why was he interrupting her? She ignored him and continued. “It’s not about how long we know someone, but what kind of difference they make in our lives, and Clara did impact us all for good.”

  “Elaine,” Jonathan said a little louder, and this time, she did turn to look.

  A mother cougar was slinking toward them from the woods, her ears perked and her nose twitching. She knew they had her baby, and Elaine had to talk fast.

  “I found a quote from William Shakespeare,” she said, her hands trembling as she flipped to the right page. ‘A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities.’ This is what Isabelle, Lisa, and Maryanne did for Clara—they bore her infirmities. And this is what we four brides have done for each other—Maryanne has helped Lisa on rough days, Lisa has cheered us with her sense of humor, Isabelle has brought us fresh rabbit meat, and I’ve taught Isabelle how to make bread on the world’s oldest stove. We all do what we can for each other, and that is the meaning of true friendship. Now, because we want Clara to be happy, we release her back into the wild, where she can reunite with her mother and be free.”

  Dermot bent over and unwrapped Clara from her blanket. She froze at first, sniffing at the ground, but then she looked up.

  Mother and baby locked eyes.

  Almost before Elaine knew what was happening, the mother cougar whisked into the clearing, gathered Clara up by the nape of her neck, and carried her off. She paused, though, right at the edge of the tree line, and looked back, almost as if to say thank you. Then she disappeared.

  Maryanne wiped her cheeks. “That was amazing.”

  “I know we probably acted foolishly, but thank you for helping me, everyone,” Lisa said. “I just couldn’t bear to leave her there, injured like she was . . .”

  “We understand,” Isabelle said, putting her arm around Lisa’s shoulders. “That’s ultimately why we did it—for you.”

  Elaine wiped away tears of her own as she watched her friends. The quote she’d chosen was even more appropriate than she’d first thought. She felt Jonathan’s arm come around her waist, and she leaned into him.

  “I was going to be angry,” he said softly, “but now I understand. In a lot of ways, this wasn’t about the cougar at all—it was something deeper, something I couldn’t see at first. And while it still wasn’t a good idea, I can’t lecture you about it. I don’t have the heart.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered back. “It’s not something I could have explained—thank you for understanding.”

  “I need to ask a favor, though,” he went on. “The next time you decide to gather together in bonds of sisterly kindness and all that, could you please not involve the wild animals? It would probably work out better that way.”

  “I promise,” she said, snuggling into his arms. “I can’t speak for the other three, but I promise.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “He’s mocking us,” Jonathan said, bringing his horse to a stop and looking around. “That still is probably right under our noses, and he’s watching us and laughing.”

  “Probably,” Dermot said mildly. “Is getting upset about it going to change anything?”

  “No.” Jonathan relaxed his grip on the reins. “I need to keep my head on straight so I can think clearly, but it would sure be easier to kick a tree and let off some steam.”

  “I don’t think the tree would appreciate it overly much.” Dermot reached into his saddlebag, pulled out a map, and spread it out over Star’s neck. “We can cross off this ridge, and that one over there,” he said, pointing.

  “That doesn’t leave us many places to look,” Jonathan replied. “Meanwhile, winter’s coming on, and we have Indians without stores for the cold weather.”

  “The cold will drive some animals out, but others will go into hibernation,” Dermot continued Jonathan’s train of thought. “Who knows how many pelts they’ll be able to get now.”

  While the Mounties knew that it wasn’t their responsibility to see to everyone’s needs at all times, they did feel a sense of duty and also compassion for all those in their jurisdiction, and the urge to help was strong. Jonathan realized it was probably the same sort of urge that had gotten their wives entangled with the baby cougar—seeing a need, feeling a call to do something about it, and not being able to resist that call. He just hoped they could be wiser about their decisions than the wives had been with theirs.

  “If we move across this way,” Dermot went on, tracing a route with his finger, “we could hit this ridge and that riverbed. I can’t help but wonder if we shouldn’t be looking for a cave or another kind of natural shelter. How does he keep his operation protected from inclement weather?”

  “The most likely caves would be back over here, where we’ve already searched,” Jonathan said. Then it struck him. “Is it difficult to take down and reassemble a still?”

  Dermot shrugged. “I don’t know. It would take a day, maybe?”

  Jonathan shook his head, admiring the Frenchman’s savvy, but also infuriated by it. “He waited until we searched the caves and then moved the operation there. I’d bet anything on it.”

  “And then he told you that little lie to throw you off. You’re right. You have to be.” Dermot folded the map and put it back in the saddlebag. “We’re just above Moose Lick right now. Let’s ride down, tell the others, and prepare a raid for first light.”

  “Maybe a scouting party first?” Jonathan asked.

  Dermot shook his head. “I don’t think he should have any sort of advance notice that we’re coming, and it’s close enough that it’s not a waste of time if we all ride out.”

  Jonathan nodded. “Let’s go.”

  The horses stepped down the side of the mountain, going a little sideways in places where it seemed like the safest course. Then the men rode into Moose Lick, Jonathan glad that they finally had some sort of plan to present to their commander.

  Wesley was standing outside the Mountie office when they arrived, looking amused. “Anyone in the mood for some squirrel?” he asked.

  “Am I ever in the mood for some squirrel?” Dermot retorted.

  Wesley bent down and picked up the tails of two squirrels. “These were left in the middle of the clearing there where we had the releasing ceremony. Pierre at the mercantile said he saw the f
emale cougar come in and drop them.”

  “Like a present?” Jonathan looked at the two animals. They were a little larger than average, but they still didn’t look delicious.

  “I think so. Maybe thanking the girls for taking care of her baby,” Wesley replied.

  “Oh, come on. Now you sound as fanciful as they do,” Dermot said with a chuckle.

  “Whatever the reason she brought them, I’m going to take them inside so she knows we’ve accepted them,” Wesley went on. “As far as what I’m going to do with them afterward, well, I have no idea.”

  Jonathan and Dermot followed Wesley inside the office and took seats across from his desk. “Where’s Preston?” Jonathan asked.

  “Out on patrol. He should be back any time now,” Wesley answered. “What’s going on?”

  Jonathan and Dermot outlined their search for the still and the conclusions they’d drawn that afternoon. “He can’t be allowed to continue,” Jonathan concluded. “This isn’t harmless wine being served in dining rooms under controlled circumstances. His whiskey is well above all acceptable limits for alcohol content, and he’s using it to manipulate and control his customers.”

  Wesley thought that over for several seconds. “You’re right,” he said at last. “I dislike charging in and taking over someone’s property like this, but he’s playing dangerous games, and it has to come to an end.”

  “And don’t forget Harry Haskell over in Saltwater Flats,” Dermot added. “He drank a few bottles of that stuff, and it ate a hole in his stomach. Doc had to go in there and sew him up.”

  “Harry should have known better than to drink that much of anything, but yes, I agree,” Wesley said. “I believe we’re all in agreement. When Preston comes in, I’ll tell him, and we’ll meet you both at the trailhead at dawn.”

  ***

  When Jonathan arrived home that night, he was clearly agitated. Elaine thought about offering to skip his reading lesson, but she didn’t want to break her own rule and be inconsistent, so she moved forward with it like it was any ordinary day.