Winning The Mail-Order Bride. Lauri Robinson

      He knocked a second time before hearing movement inside the house, and then someone telling him to hold his horses.

      It wasn’t his horses he was trying to hold on to. His temper was rising far quicker than normal.

      Josiah pulled aside the curtain to peek through the glass before he opened the door. “What are you doing here at this time in the morning?” Josiah asked, pulling open the door.

      “We need to talk,” Brett said, stepping over the threshold, forcing Josiah to step back in the process.

      Straightening his vest, pulling it down over his thick waist once he’d caught his footing from jumping backward, Josiah asked, “About what?”

      “Fiona Goldberg,” Brett said, shutting the door with a solid thud.

      Josiah’s face and neck reddened. “Mrs. Goldberg and her sons aren’t any of your business.”

      Fighting had never been Brett’s way. He always figured it wouldn’t be fair. He was much bigger and stronger than most men. However, using that size and strength for his own good, or the good of others, now and again didn’t bother him. He took a step closer and laid both hands on Josiah’s shoulders. Looking down upon the much shorter man, he said, “As I see it, she is my business. Any bride from Ohio is fair game to any one of us who donated to the committee.”

      It was July, and the morning air was warming quickly, but not so much that sweat should be trickling down the mayor’s face. Josiah pulled out a kerchief and wiped his forehead. “Fi—Mrs. Goldberg is not one of the brides the committee ordered. She came upon hard times and contacted me personally, offering to be my bride. I agreed. Therefore, she is mine and mine alone.”

      Brett wasn’t certain he believed Josiah, but he had no reason not to. Especially since just yesterday he’d taken it upon himself to order his own bride. Irritated by that as much as everything else, he said, “Seems to me you aren’t treating your wife-to-be very well. You left her and those little boys alone to fend for themselves last evening.”

      “I promised her some time to get to know me,” Josiah said. “Something only a gentleman such as myself would know about.”

      If there was any man in town who considered himself a gentleman, it was Josiah. Brett removed his hands and stepped back.

      Josiah pocketed his kerchief. “I was just getting ready to walk over and check on them. See if they need anything.”

      Torn as to how much he should and shouldn’t say about Fiona and her sons eating at his place last night, the air left Brett’s chest with a huff.

      “There will be other brides arriving, soon, Brett,” Josiah said. “You’ll have a chance at one of them.”

      Not wanting the mayor to know that wasn’t his greatest concern, Brett asked, “When?”

      “I can’t say for sure, but my friend, who is the mayor in Bridgewater, Ohio, is gathering them up as we speak. He’ll notify me as soon as they are ready.”

      “You’ve been saying that for a month,” Brett pointed out. “And for two months before that you promised there would be a dozen women.”

      “There will be. This sort of thing takes time.”

      Brett let the frustration inside him ease out on a long breath. “Folks are getting tired of waiting.”

      “I know,” Josiah said, “and I’m working on bringing in all twelve brides as promised. Now, I really must head over to see Fiona before church this morning.” He took a couple steps sideways and pulled open the door.

      With little else he could say or do, Brett nodded and left.