Della: Bride of Texas (American Mail-Order Bride 28) (3 page)

“Well, hel-l-l-o, Hank,” said Frieda Simmons as he walked out the door of the church. “Where have you been keeping yourself? You broke my heart when you weren’t at Sally’s party last weekend.”

Hank tipped his hat and grinned. “Well, Miss Simmons,” he drawled. “I must have been left off the invitation list. I’m sure it was just an oversight by Sally’s mother, don’t you?”

Frieda twirled her parasol as her mouth fell open at the bluntness of Hank’s answer. “Well…I…I’m sure I…”

“It’s okay, Miss Simmons,” Hank smiled, enjoying her squirming. “I found other things to keep me busy.” Hank glanced in the direction of Hell’s Half Acre and returned his gaze to Frieda.

“Well…I…,” Frieda continued, shocked even more by what he was insinuating.

Hank laughed aloud as he saw Frieda’s mother heading their way—lips pursed and eyebrows knitted together in a frown—coming to pluck her daughter from the company of the lecherous Hank Hensley. “I see you’re about to be wanted elsewhere, ma’am. Good day,” he said, tipping his hat again and abruptly walking away just in time to avoid the formidable Mrs. Simmons.

Milton Tidwell may be desperate, but Hank certainly wasn’t. He didn’t
need
someone to marry him. He hadn’t needed anyone in a long time and he was perfectly happy getting attention from those he knew best and who accepted him for exactly who he was.

Chapter 3

The last day of travel by train went by fast for Della Owens. She had befriended an older gentleman by the name of Carl Walton, who was passing through Fort Worth on his way farther out West.

Carl was dressed neatly in the fashion of the day for men with a bowler hat and vest worn beneath a traveling coat. A gold pocket watch chain crossed his chest and the watch was neatly tucked into its pocket. Carl walked with a cane, but his frailty didn’t seem to slow his mind. He was as interesting a man as Della had ever met and she thought he must have been quite dapper and handsome during his younger years.

He and Della spent the hours sharing their rations and chatting about his interesting life—and the one she was just beginning.

“You have a mighty adventure ahead of you, young lady—one that I envy,” Carl said as he smoothed his short, trimmed beard—obviously deep in thought. “Everyone should be so lucky to arrive in a frontier town where they can decide their own destiny.”

“I just don’t like surprises,” Della admitted. “It makes me nervous going through my days not knowing what to expect. Too many disappointments in the past for me to embrace change—and here I am going to a new town, with no kin, no money, and no idea how it will turn out.”

“Ah,” Carl said. “The life you’ve just described is what most people crave—especially on their deathbeds. They wake up day after day knowing there’s nothing new to look forward to—nothing exciting to bring joy to their heart. Welcome this moment, dear Della. Don’t allow the decisions of those from your past determine how you view opportunities for your future. During the war I watched friends perish in battle or lose limbs and they’ll never have a chance to discover what their lives might have been.”

As Della watched the East Texas pines roll by, she let the words of the wise old man sink in. She’d never looked at this trip like that before. In fact, she’d hardly attempted to see any positives in it at all—just a way to survive. She’d been too busy focusing on how everyone had wronged her, and how fate seemed to enjoy disrupting her plans and seeing how she fared.

She allowed herself to daydream about the possibilities her new future offered, intentionally thinking about them in an optimistic manner.
A banker’s wife
, she thought as she pictured all that would entail.
Financial stability. Responsible provider. Respected community member—trustworthy for certain, since he deals with peoples’ money.
To Della, the title of a banker’s wife seemed to suit her just fine. She would focus on providing a happy, loving homestead as he went off to work each day. There would be times when she’d surprise him with a picnic at midday to show him how much she cared. Della giggled at the thought of
her
embracing surprises. But it
did
sound fun—the unexpected romance and loving gesture.

As the locomotive pulled into the Fort Worth depot, Carl stood and insisted on walking Della to the exit. As she turned to say goodbye to her new friend, Carl gently lifted her hand and gave it a respectful brief kiss before stepping back, tipping his hat, and saying, “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Della curtsied, feeling as if she’d just been given the key to a new perspective on life. She stepped off the train and onto the platform of the train station. The Texas wind kicked up and blew her loose bun apart, strands of hair falling all around her shoulders.

“Miss Owens?” she heard as she saw a man walking toward her.

“Yes,” Della said. “I’m Miss Owens. You must be Mr. Jennings. So glad to meet you.” Della and the man shook hands and he nodded in the affirmative.

“How was your trip?” Roy asked, walking alongside Della to the baggage area where a porter handed him her belongings.

“It was wonderful,” Della said as they walked along the platform toward the street. Della paused and took one last glance back at the train and waved at Carl, who was sitting by the window, smiling back at her.

“You need more time?” Roy asked, realizing she had stopped.

“No, I’m ready,” Della said, inhaling the fresh air and marching into her new life with a newfound confidence.

“We’ll put your bags in the wagon,” Roy said. “I have to make a quick stop at the General Store to close up for the night. Then we’ll head home so you can get settled.”

“That’s great!” Della said, excited to see where she’d be working.

Roy brought the wagon to a halt just down the street in front of Hensley’s General Store. As she stepped up onto the uneven planks of wood jutting out from the storefront, Della took a look at her surroundings.

“Watch your step,” Roy said.

“There sure are a lot of businesses with the Hensley name on them,” Della remarked, noticing two or three other establishments of the same name.

“They’re owned by the same man—Hank Hensley,” Roy said, matter-of-factly. “You’ll see him stop by just about every day. I’ll introduce you when he comes tomorrow.”

Della looked forward to meeting Mr. Hensley. She admired those who worked hard and set down roots, and the fact that his name was on everything he owned meant he showed pride in his accomplishments.

Roy opened the door to the General Store and Della heard a bell ring. “After you,” he said.

She stepped through the door and let her eyes adjust from the blinding rays of the Texas sun to the inside of the store, where just about everything you could imagine was being sold. Cans of various foods, bins of a few fresh vegetables brought in by farmers, hard tack, rope and bolts of material were just a few of the items sold in the General Store and it was all neatly stacked on shelves and in every available corner.

Roy walked around the counter where a fidgety young man sat on a stool. “You’re free to go now, Billy,” Roy said. “Thanks for watching the store for me.” He paid the boy a small sum and Della watched as the child bolted out the door and ran across the street where his friends were waiting.

Roy walked back out the door and held it open for Della, locking up as she waited on the steps by the wagon. Della glanced up and down the street, absorbing the community with her eyes, and trying to picture this as her home from now until the day she died. At the far end, she could see the Fort Worth Bank—and a tall man exiting.
I wonder if that’s him
, she thought, trying to imagine who her future banker husband would be. There had been no time to exchange photos, but Della wasn’t particular about looks anyway—she was much more interested in a man who felt as she did about life—that’s what was important to
her
.

“Have anywhere you need to go before we head home?” Roy asked, startling Della from her thoughts.

“Oh! No, thank you,” Della said, climbing up into the wagon and tying a bonnet around her hair to keep it intact for the windy ride home. The road outside of town was a bit bumpy, having dried in deep ruts following a high amount of rain Della heard being discussed by others at the train station.

“Heard you had a fire back in Massachusetts,” Roy stated as if initiating conversation so there wouldn’t be awkward silence on the ride home.

“Yes,” Della said. “Burned the sewing factory to the ground—and took my job with it.”

“Sewing?” Roy said. “Maybe you can teach my daughter Mary how to sew. She’s real good with her hands, but her ma ain’t real good at teaching her how to do things—not a lick of patience in that woman.”

“I’d be happy to,” Della replied. “How old is Mary?”

“Seventeen last fall,” Roy said. “Problem is, she was born without any sight, so teaching her is a bit tough for some people. She’s real willing to learn, though! Brightest kid I ever seen. Pity her eyes don’t work.”

Della could see how Roy’s face lit up when he spoke of his daughter. “I can’t wait to meet her,” she said.

“Got any kin back east?” Roy asked.

Della nodded. “A sister in Lawrence and parents who moved to Savannah,” she said.

“Didn’t want to stick around with them?” Roy asked.

That question hit Della hard. It was more like they didn’t value family as much as
she
did. Different priorities, different lives. “I just wanted a fresh start,” Della said, forcing a smile on her face to lighten her mood.

“Well, you’ll certainly get that here,” Roy said. “I came to Fort Worth about ten years ago. Wife wanted to stick Mary in one of those places for the blind, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Came here for work, so she could stay home and raise her properly. Can’t say Helen was too happy about it, though.”

“I admire your decision,” Della said. It was obvious that
this
man put family first, and she envied Mary for having someone so determined to keep her around and safe within the arms of a family. “So you’ve worked in the General Store the whole time?”

“No,” said Roy. “Started out as the town marshal, working under Sheriff Lockhart. But some people just ain’t cut out for dealing with rustlers and wild cowboys and that includes me. Working the General Store is more my pace.”

Della could understand that. Who would want to go to work each night having to encounter rambunctious criminals and rowdy folk?
Yes,
Della thought.
Roy Jennings and I are going to get along just fine.

The house sat just outside of town. It was a small frame home with a neat fence around a dirt yard that had obviously been swept until the dirt was smooth. There was a small garden in one corner of the front yard and some droopy flowers planted around the front stoop. It could have been a sweet cottage if someone took the time to paint and plant more flowers.

Roy pulled up and hopped off the wagon, coming around to Della’s side to help her down as well. As she gathered her bags, an excited young woman opened the front door and reached her arms out toward the porch railing. “Pa!” she shouted happily. “You’re home! Did you bring her?”

Roy laughed as he grabbed one of Della’s bags and bounded up the steps to embrace his daughter, Mary. “I sure did,” he said. “Wait till you meet her!”

Della walked over to the house, eager to meet her host’s family. “Pleased to meet you,” she said to Mary, holding out her hand.

“Is she trying to shake my hand?” Mary asked, a huge smile flashing across her face as she turned her head in Roy’s direction.

“Yep,” Roy laughed—an inside joke Della didn’t seem to understand. She lowered her hand, feeling like she’d somehow offended the young woman. She had forgotten that Roy told her earlier that his daughter had no sight.

Mary laughed and approached Della closer. “Don’t worry,” said Mary. “Everyone does it. I can’t see your hand, though. Do you mind?” She held her hands up close to Della’s face as if she were about to touch it.

“I reckon I don’t,” Della hesitated, unsure what it was she supposedly didn’t mind. Mary stood before her, almost as tall, and gently moved her hands over Della’s face. Mary’s touch was tender, not intrusive, and her face beamed with joy as if she were opening some fantastic gift. She was a beautiful girl—hair the color of wheat, which cascaded over her shoulders like a warm, soft blanket. Her eyes had an ethereal appearance—blight blue, but almost like you could see right through them.

“She’s beautiful,” Mary said, turning her head in Roy’s direction.

Roy turned to Della and said, “She
sees
with her hands.”

“What color is your hair?” Mary asked, her hands now caressing Della’s long, blond locks that had fallen when she removed her bonnet.

“Blonde,” said Della, unsure how to describe color to a person who couldn’t see.

“What’s it like, Pa?” Mary said, turning to Roy.

“Like the color of corn, only lighter,” Roy said. “Or the color of the sun on a bright, warm day.”

Mary shook her head in approval as she lowered her hands. “It’s nice to meet you, Della Owens,” she said, now holding her hand out for Della to shake, which she did.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Della said, happy that the matter was settled and she’d been accepted into the fold.

Roy opened the door, holding it for Mary and Della to walk in. A woman stood over the table near the kitchen, scowling. “You’re late,” she said. Della was taken aback by her demeanor, after the warm welcome she’d received from both Roy and Mary.

“Got here as fast as we could,” Roy sighed as he walked toward the room Della would be sharing with Mary, setting her bag down at the foot of one of two small beds. He walked out of the room and avoided eye contact with Della as he made his way to the table for supper. Mary, too, had become quieter the minute they walked in the door. It was if this woman had stolen their sunshine and in its place left a dark cloud that now hung over them all.

Della followed suit and walked over to the table where four plates had been set. “I’m Della Owens,” she said to the woman, offering her hand to shake. “And you are?”

“Nobody important ‘round here,” the woman said flatly. Silence filled the room, putting Della on edge. “Name’s Helen—I’m Roy’s wife and Mary’s ma.” Helen wiped her hands on the apron she wore and began passing plates of food around the table, allowing Roy to fill Mary’s plate for her. No one spoke a word until Della tried to initiate conversation.

“Bet it comes in handy having a husband who works at the General Store!” Della said, trying to offer Roy a compliment and lighten the mood.