Conner's Contrary Bride

He knew Bertie had his best interests at heart, and heaven knew that he did need someone. Conner missed Mary every single day, but it was true, especially at night when he found himself alone in his bed. He missed having someone in which to confide, someone who would listen to his thoughts and ideas.
“I would love the companionship of a wife,” Conner said, “but matching my likes with some stranger doesn’t ensure we’d fall in love.”
Bertie sighed. “That’s true enough, but you said you could never love another the way you loved Mary, anyway. If you didn’t love her, at least you’d have the companionship of someone compatible with you.”
Conner refolded the newspaper page and slipped it into his pocket. “I’ll think about it. Thank you for caring, Bertie.”
Alone in bed, Conner read the article again. For a reasonable fee, after filling out a form, he could get a bride with the same interests and likes as his. If he decided to try it, he’d pray for God to send him the perfect woman. Bertie was right, the least he could do was to throw his hat in the ring. He’d have to rely on God to do the rest.
In the meantime, he’d see if he could get someone to help out in the office. Maybe one of the housewives in town could use a bit of extra cash and work for a few hours a day. He couldn’t expect Bertie to keep the house and run the office. He’d ask around in the morning.
A month later, Conner received his questionnaire from the matchmaker. He scanned some of the questions:
Are you a morning person or a night person?
What is your favorite beverage?
Are you a church-goer?
Do you like pets?
What kind of music do you enjoy?
Do you prefer living in the city or in the country?
What is your favorite dinner entrée?
Do you enjoy reading?
Would you rather picnic in a park, or dance at a ball or barn dance?
Do you want to have children?
He flipped through the questionnaire; there were three full pages of questions in total.
Conner sat at his desk and answered the questions honestly. His doubts disappeared at the thought of marrying someone who had the same answers as him. Whether it led to love or not, they’d certainly enjoy the companionship. Heaven knew he needed help in the office, too.
He finished answering his questionnaire and sent it along with his money by wire to the matchmaker. He sighed with relief. It was done. He wondered how long it would take for his bride to arrive. Now that he’d accepted the idea, he was somewhat excited about it.

  
Chapter Two
Bertie poured Conner a cup of coffee. “So, what time does... um... what was her name?”
Conner pulled the telegram from his breast pocket, “Elsie. Her stagecoach is due in around noon, but Carson Peters said it’s never on time.”
Bertie took a seat at the kitchen table beside Conner. “Will Reverend McDougal be ready?”
“Yes, the ceremony will take place at three. I’ll have you and Mrs. McDougal as witnesses.”
Bertie seemed to study him, making Conner leery of her next question.
“Conner, where will she sleep?”
Conner gave her a wink. “Certainly not with me, if that’s what’s bothering you. She can have my room, and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Bertie stood and refilled his cup. “She can have my room, and I’ll sleep in one of the beds in the clinic for now.”
Conner let out a sarcastic laugh. “Here I am, starting a marriage in a small flat at the rear of my clinic; I need to buy a house.”
“All in good time,” Bertie said. “It is convenient being so close to the clinic.”
“Remember the piece of land I was telling you about? It’s still available. I’m sure this woman will want a bigger and better home. I’m actually ashamed to show her my small, lowly flat. I’m sure she’s used to better.”
Conner pushed away from the table. “I’d better get the buggy ready. You’ll be at the church on time?”
Bertie laughed. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll drive the buckboard.”
“Hmm.” Conner shook his head. “Perhaps I should take the buckboard and you the buggy. The woman... um... Elsie is bound to have a trunk or two. Don’t you agree?”
“Oh, yes,” Bertie said. “A woman coming to live here permanently would have a lot of luggage. I’ll take the buggy, then, or even walk. The church is not that far.”
“No, you take the buggy, I don’t want you walking through Hays City unchaperoned.”
Just as Conner prepared to jump onto the buckboard, a rider skidded to a halt in front of the clinic.
“Doc, I need help. I got shot,” the man cried as he leaped from his horse, holding his shoulder.
Conner sighed. He knew it would probably make him late for the stagecoach drop off, but he had no choice. “Come on in, and I’ll take care of it.”
The stagecoach stopped at the hotel to let off passengers and then continued to the livery to change horses. When Conner finally reached town, he saw the stage at the livery, and he rushed to the hotel, but there wasn’t a soul waiting in front of the hotel. He looked to the left and the right, but he didn’t see a woman waiting for him. He scratched his head, and walked back to the livery, which was where he found the driver leaning against the coach, drinking coffee.
Conner approached the man. “Did you let a woman off by the hotel today?”
“Yep, sure did. She looked lost when there was no one to meet her, so she went inside the hotel.”
“Thank you,” Conner yelled, as he was already rushing to the hotel. His future wife was inside somewhere.
He walked