Read Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39) Online

Authors: Heather Horrocks

Tags: #Historical, #Romance, #Fiction, #Forever Love, #Victorian Era, #Western, #Thirty-Nine In Series, #Saga, #Fifty-Books, #Forty-Five Authors, #Newspaper Ad, #Short Story, #American Mail-Order Bride, #Bachelor, #Single Woman, #Marriage Of Convenience, #Christian, #Religious, #Faith, #Inspirational, #Factory Burned, #Pioneer, #North Dakota, #Runaway Groom, #Jilted Bride, #Change Status, #Northern Lights

Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39) (5 page)

BOOK: Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39)
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Dear Diary, Tonight I had the interesting experience of seeing my confirmed bachelor brother look at a young woman he brought home, just like the wounded birds he’d always brought home as a child to fix their wings—and light up like the northern lights. It seems he’d like to now help Violet fly. Since James Evans is in the mix, I’m going to enjoy watching this play out. P.S. I like her very much. I hope he can get over the hurt Opal gave him and follow his heart.

(Journal Entry, Amelia Lund Halvorson, October 15, 1890)

 

Violet caught Amelia’s gaze. A gentle smile curved the other woman’s lips. “Do come sit at the table and let me fix you some supper. It will warm you right up. You must be frozen and exhausted after your travels.”

“Thank you kindly.”

She stopped. “Where did you travel from?”

“Lawrence, Massachusetts.”

“Did you hear that, Sven? This poor girl has been traveling for days!”

Girl? She suspected she was only a couple of years younger than Amelia. She smiled.

Sven nodded kindly and sat back down at the table. He picked up his fork and started eating.

Amelia looked at him fondly and told Violet, “Sven is working evenings, in addition to his day work. We’re saving up to have a baby.”

“Congratulations. When are you...?”

Amelia smiled and patted her stomach. “She won’t be here—“

”—
he
,” interjected Sven, but his voice was teasing, and then he kept eating.

“—for another seven months, about mid-May.”

“My birthday is May 15,” Violet said. “It’s a good time of year for a birthday.”

Amelia nodded. “I think so, as well.”

“Do you have other children?”

Amelia shook her head. “Sven and I have only been married eighteen months.”

That didn’t matter to the many couples who got pregnant on their honeymoons. Violet hoped that didn’t happen to her. She hoped for time to get acquainted with the baby’s father a little before they added a child into the mix.

Amelia motioned for Violet to sit at the other end of the table from Sven and next to Amelia’s plate.

Amelia disappeared into the kitchen, walked past the cutaway in the wall, and a moment later came back, carrying a plate of food. “Roast pork loin with salted potatoes and onions, and some tart red currant jelly that makes it delicious.”

“It looks absolutely delectable.” Amelia set the plate before her, and Violet was overcome with gratitude. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Amelia’s smile grew larger. “You’re very welcome. Now eat.”

So she did. The food was delicious—the best she’d had in days. Longer than that, even.

Amelia said, “So you came all this way to marry?”

“Yes.” Violet hesitated to say more. She didn’t want to be gossiped about and she didn’t yet know if Amelia was a person who would pass on information given in confidence.

Amelia shook her head. “You’re far braver than I am, then.”

Surprised, Violet smiled. “I doubt that. Besides, you are already wed and you are already out West. Where would you have gone?”

“California, perhaps,” Amelia teased with a glance at her husband.

Amelia’s husband snorted. “California, indeed. Do you suppose you would find a better man there? One that would put up with your shenanigans as I do?” He was also teasing.

The large man pushed to his feet, handed Amelia his plate, which he’d eaten clean, and nodded at Violet. “Good to meet you, ma’am. Now I must go back to work.”

“Excuse me while I see my husband off.”

Sven grinned rakishly at his wife. “Ready to see me off, eh? Are you ladies going to throw a grand party while I’m gone?”

“We are indeed, so you’d best work hard to pay for it.”

Sven pulled his expectant wife in for a hearty kiss and patted her on the behind. He nodded to Violet, pulled on his coat, gloves, and hat, and strode out the door.

A lot of energy left the room with him.

“I do love that man.” She sighed. “I’ll be glad when he can stop working the evening job. I miss him, especially in the evenings. I’m glad you are here with me tonight.”

Amelia sat back beside her, and they ate in silence until Violet sighed in contentment and leaned back in her chair. “Thank you. That was delicious.”

A knock sounded at the door. Amelia excused herself and opened it.

Another woman’s voice said, “Amelia, darling. I heard you had company.”

“Mother, what are you doing out in this storm?”

“I live three houses down. I’m hardly in danger of freezing. I need to borrow a cup of flour.”

An older version of Amelia entered the door and stopped. “Why, you’re beautiful.”

Embarrassed, Violet said, “Thank you.” She could feel warmth in her cheeks.

“Daniel brought her here,” Amelia said smugly.

“Did he now?” The older woman’s eyes sparkled as she crossed the room and took Violet’s face in her hands. “I couldn’t be happier to have you for my daughter.”

“Before you jump to any conclusions, Mother, let me make introductions. Violet, this is my mother, Brenna Lund,” Amelia said. “Mother, this is Violet Keating. She is here to marry—“

”I know,” Brenna interrupted. “I heard Daniel picked you up at the train station.”

“That’s because her groom wasn’t there.”

The older woman pulled back in surprise. “You’re not here to marry my son?”

Violet could only wish. “No, ma’am. I’m not.”

Disappointment colored her eyes. “Then who?”

Violet and Amelia exchanged glances. Violet said, “James Evans.”

“But he’s just a young ‘un. He has plenty of family money but he doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose.”

“Mother, you shouldn’t speak ill of the man Violet has traveled all the way from Massachusetts to marry.”

Brenna sank into a dining area chair. “I am sorry to have disparaged your husband-to-be. Though if he falls through, please consider my son as his replacement. Daniel is a good man. Stubborn, but loyal.”

“I do not believe your son is interested in me.” Embarrassed, Violet gave a little laugh. “I gave him quite a scare when I mistook him for James at the train station.”

“Oh, he is definitely interested.” Amelia nodded emphatically. “I’ve never seen him looking at a woman like he looked at you. Like you were as precious as gold. You would be perfect for him. It’s a shame you’re here to marry...”

Her voice trailed off.

Violet had thought exactly the same thing not long before, but she had to remain faithful to the man who’d sent for her. She would be marrying James. If he hadn’t been killed in an accident, that is. “Tell me a little about James. What kind of man is he?”

The two women exchanged glances. Amelia looked at her. “So you’ve never met him?”

“No. I just arrived in town.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That he’s wealthy and handsome and young.” When neither woman spoke, Violet said, “Did he tell me true?”

Amelia shrugged a shoulder. “His father is wealthy and he’s young enough to live on the goodness of his father, so that’s true enough. And I guess some women would consider him handsome.”

Her mother snorted. “If they like big noses and weak chins.”

“Oh, Mother, his nose isn’t that big.”

Violet noticed that Amelia didn’t deny the weak chin.

Disappointed, she realized that James had exaggerated in his letter. Misrepresented himself, even.

But hadn’t Daniel called James “pretty boy Evans”?

Now she didn’t know what to expect.

She was more nervous than when she’d first stepped on the train, four days before.

 

James Evans is a boy, and a foolish one at that. A man would have been at the station to meet his bride and made her feel welcome, not abandoned. If need be, I will make it my mission to find Miss Keating another man in Minot to marry, as I am sure there are many here who would be glad to do so. Even I have urges in that direction, though I will fight them back. I am too old for her, too jaded... too afraid of another betrayal.

(Journal Entry, Daniel Lund, October 15, 1890)

 

DANIEL DROVE THE HORSES DOWN the lane.

He’d stopped first at the Evans home—the home of James’s parents, where James still resided while he fixed up the house he’d apparently purchased two months before. For his new wife—the same one he’d abandoned at the train station. His parents claimed they didn’t know where James was—but Daniel wasn’t sure he believed them.

Next he’d checked both the church—which was empty—and the pastor’s home. Pastor Winter hadn’t heard anything from James since he arranged for the wedding several weeks before. The good pastor had been glad to have someone to complain to about having waited all afternoon and into the evening—and no happy couple had arrived. He’d arranged for witnesses, whom he’d finally sent home. And Daniel didn’t have the heart to cut him off, though he finally had to because the need to find James compelled him to move on.

He’d also asked everyone he’d passed by if they’d seen or heard from James. No news.

Now, having left the wagon and horses tied up partway down the block, he was stomping through the snow toward Minot’s most famous saloon—Jack Doyle’s—a brick building on the corner of Central Avenue and Main Street. He’d start bar-hopping here because he figured it was most likely he’d find the shirker’s ne’er-do-well friends here, if not the groom himself.

Four years before, Minot’s first Christmas tree had been set up in Jack Doyle’s saloon and all residents invited to a party, where they were given gifts. It had been a memorable evening, complete with music and singing.

He wasn’t feeling nearly so festive tonight.

Daniel pushed through the door, grateful for the warmth inside the rough building. He brushed snow from his clothing before he went in any farther.

The room was partially lit, but some of the booths lining the wall were in shadow. The bar nearly split the room from left to right, and Daniel’s gaze followed the bar and then the booths.

Sure enough, they were seated at the last booth. The three Hansen brothers were inseparable from each other and from James Evans because none of them had to work, so they had plenty of time and money to get into trouble. Together with James, they spent more money on drink than most men spent on supporting their families.

Shaking his head in disgust, Daniel headed over. When he stood at the end of the booth, the three looked up at him.

Stewart Hansen put his arm around the back of the booth next to him in a movement of casual nonchalance. “What’s up, Lund?”

“I’m looking for James.”

“Won’t find him here.” Stewart looked at his brothers. “Right, boys?”

The other two nodded, Mitchell lifting a mug of beer to his lips and Samuel shrugging.

Daniel smiled as though he actually liked the spineless buffoons. “Where is he, then?”

They exchanged glances, then laughed.

Stewart cleared his throat, sat up straighter, and said, “Join us for a round, and we’ll tell you what we know. If you can convince us why we should tell you.”

“Yeah,” said Mitchell. “Why do you need to find him?”

“I’ve come to collect him for his wedding.”

“Did she arrive on the train?” Samuel asked, his voice low.

Daniel nodded. “And he was not there to meet her, as a good husband-to-be ought.”

They sat, sullenly silent, until he sighed deeply, again shaking his head, and dropped onto the bench beside Stewart. Turning, he called out, “A round of beers here, Conway. On me.”

The three idiots smiled, and Stewart said, “That’s more like it.”

Daniel forced himself to relax. “So where is he?”

“After the drinks arrive and you’ve paid for them,” Stewart said. “Then we’ll trade you for the information.”

So Daniel waited the long moments, trying to still himself, until the drinks arrived.

Maybe five minutes later, Conway sent a tray over with a pretty young lady, who set down the drinks and winked at Daniel, making him uncomfortable.

BOOK: Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39)
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