Della: Bride of Texas (American Mail-Order Bride 28) (5 page)

“That’ll be $0.68,” Della said.

The woman shuffled the coins around in her hand, realizing she wouldn’t have enough. “I’m sorry,” she said as she placed the soap back on the table. “I’ll get the soap another time.”

“Nonsense,” Hank said, grabbing the soap and placing it back on the counter. “Put it on her credit.”

“We do credit?” Della asked, turning to Roy for clarification.

“Give her a $100 store credit,” Hank instructed, smiling at the woman whose eyes were tearing up with thanks.

Della shrugged. “Here you go, miss…?” she asked, needing the name for the line of credit.

“Weaver,” the woman replied as she picked up her belongings and turned to Hank. “Thank you, sir.”

Hank tipped his hat and walked to the door to hold it open for her. Della was busy writing down the line of credit and adding the charges to it. When the door shut behind the woman, he approached the counter and reached for the line of credit. “We won’t be needing this,” Hank said, tearing it in half. “If she comes ‘round again, give her what she needs. Bill it to me.”

Della’s mouth gaped open. Roy was obviously used to this type of behavior from Hank and simply handed him his package. “You’re all set for tonight,” Roy said.

“Thanks, Roy,” Hank said. “Miss Owens? Good luck tomorrow!” He tipped his hat and exited the store. Hank was sure he’d shocked Della—first with his fib about who he was, and later with his fondness for caring about the welfare of someone from the wrong side of town and frequently ignored by others. But he didn’t mind throwing people for a loop now and then. It helped him weed out those who were only nice to his face from anyone who could appreciate and accept that every man is imperfect—and deserving of more than a superficial smile and a handshake.

As he went on his way that morning, Hank couldn’t get the beautiful—and willful—Miss Owens, out of his mind. He felt there was much more to her than she revealed this morning, but what she
did
say both intrigued and excited him.

Chapter 5

Before she’d even met him, Della had conjured up a plan about how she would interact with Hank Hensley. She would be polite, make the proper introductions, and then never speak to him again unless it was regarding the business of the General Store. She had no intention of befriending such a scoundrel—a man capable of imbibing sinful drinks and gambling away his money in the company of vulgar individuals. The fact that he’d lied to her the second he met her confirmed her decision to keep him at arm’s length.

Della hated being caught off guard and made a fool of—and she hoped she never had to spend another minute talking to that rogue again. It had kept her awake all night—the way her heart had skipped a beat when he first entered the General Store. For a moment, she had hoped it was Milton Tidwell, come to call and welcome her to town. Her first impression was that he was more than she could have asked for—a well refined man whose physical attributes matched the level of his intellect.

When he removed his hat as he entered the General Store, Della immediately noticed the thick, tousled brown hair matched his well-groomed mustache. Beyond that, Della was embarrassed to admit to herself that she took in his muscular frame straining at his clothing and the way his chocolate brown eyes twinkled when he looked her up and down. No one had ever looked at her that way before. It wasn’t the lecherous looks she sometimes saw when men glared at her, but more like sincere admiration for what he saw.

Hank was well dressed but not flashy. He was definitely a western man—boots and all, but not a scruffy cowboy. He was tanned and fit, which Della found curious, considering he owned so many businesses in town and didn’t have to do any of the manual labor. His playful demeanor meant he also had a lighter side that made him spontaneous—
different
from many of the stuffy businessmen she encountered. Even though he was obviously successful, Della had a feeling it didn’t matter to him if plans had to be rearranged to meet his needs and desires.
I might even learn to be a bit more flexible with a man who looked like Hank Hensley,
Della grudgingly admitted to herself.

But, deep down, Della knew she would never be content with a man who disregarded all the rules of society. Her initial response when he revealed his true identity was disappointment, then repulsion. But she was also extremely upset that she’d been in town two whole days and her intended husband had made no effort to check on her well-being.
That’s what today is for. He’s probably busy tying up loose ends so he can devote more time to me after we meet,
she thought.

“Girls!” Roy said as he knocked on the door to Della and Mary’s room. “Time to get up. We leave for church in half an hour.” Della was already awake, but Mary had just opened her eyes.

“Good morning!” Mary said as she crawled out of bed, stretched and began feeling her way around the room to get dressed.

“Good morning, Mary,” Della said.

“You excited for church today?” Mary asked. “You get to meet
Mil
ton!” Her tone was teasing, but in a playful way—one that Della could appreciate.

“Excited,” Della replied. “But also a little nervous. What do you think about Mr. Tidwell?”

“I’ve never really talked to him,” Mary explained. “He’s around a lot, but not a real friendly type.”

“Hmm,” Della said, concerned a bit about the way Mary described him.

“Oh!” Mary said, suddenly aware of how it sounded, and hoping to correct herself. “I didn’t mean he’s not friendly—only that I haven’t had a chance to witness it, that’s all. He sticks to himself a lot. Maybe that’s why he needs you—to help him come out of his shell.”

Now
that
was an answer Della could appreciate. She’d always been the type of person who could talk to anyone, say anything, and not feel out of place. If Milton needed a little support being more personable, she could certainly be there for him.
That’s probably the reason he was waiting for Pastor Littlejohn to introduce us
, she thought.
He’s shy
. Della smiled, envisioning a man with sweet dimples in his cheeks, whose bashful eyes wavered between the floor and her gaze—a pink hue coloring his face whenever their eyes would meet.

The ride to the church was short, and within minutes, Della was standing before the very steps where she would first lay eyes on her future husband. Holding her reticule, she could feel her hands trembling.
What if he feels I’m too ordinary?
She worried.

“You’ll be fine,” Mary whispered, latching her arm with Della’s. It was as if this sightless, seventeen-year-old girl could see and sense more than anyone else who had been in Della’s life. Then again, Mary
did
have to rely on other senses, and she would have focused on the lack of conversation and the shaking of Della’s body to indicate she was edgy.

Roy stood on the other side of Mary to walk up the steps of the church house. Della was glad Helen had stayed home—she didn’t need the extra tension. But she couldn’t help but feel sorry for Mary, not having the kind of doting ma she could see the other young girls with that day.

“Why Roy Jennings,” a voice beamed. “Is this our new neighbor you’ve been hiding in the General Store?” A woman with chestnut hair and a pair of little ones tugging on her walked up and gave Della an unexpected hug.

“Yep,” Roy laughed. “This is Miss Della Owens.”

“I’m Millie Lockhart,” she said. “Wife of the sheriff, and ma to these two troublemakers. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to stop by, but I’d love to have you and Milton over for supper one day!”

“I’d love that,” Della said. Out of the corner of her eye, a man approached. He was handsome and strong looking, Della noticed that everyone showed respect to him as he walked by. He towered over most men and bore a neatly trimmed mustache. When he stopped to chat with people, she could hear his deep voice—one sure to command respect. His eyes kept darting her way. Finally, he made it through the crowd.
Could this be Milton?
Della wondered.

He strode up and wrapped his arm around Millie’s waist. Della exhaled.
It’s not him
, she thought, disappointed.
Where is he?
The suspense of who Milton Tidwell was started to get on Della’s last nerve.

“This is my husband, John Lockhart,” Millie said, leaning her head back into the sheriff’s chest.

“Nice to meet you,” Della said, her eyes quickly scanning the crowd to continue the search for the man
she
could call her own.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Sheriff Lockhart said. “Hey, did you meet
this
guy yet?” The sheriff grabbed the shoulder of a man walking past the group, spinning him around.

Della didn’t even have time to wonder if it was Milton because when she turned to face him, she was staring back at the one man she hadn’t wanted to see that day—Hank Hensley. His eyes were red and he looked as if he’d just crawled out of bed seconds earlier. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she could smell the faint scent of liquor on him. “Yes, I…” Della started.

“Yes,” Hank interrupted, “She’s had the unquestionable pleasure of meeting me
and
my alter ego, right Miss Owens? Now if you’ll excuse me, it appears as if Hank…or is it
Sam?
… is in high demand today.” He tipped his hat and winked at Della before turning to approach a group of young women who were giggling and calling him over.
Good!
Della thought.
Just as I wanted it—no phony conversations or insufferable teasing
.

“Rough night,” Sheriff Lockhart said, grinning and nodding toward Hank.

The crowd began filing into the church house—each congregation member being greeted by Pastor and Mabel Littlejohn as they stepped through the doors. Della was pulled aside by Mabel on her way in. “I’m so happy to meet you, Della,” she said. “I know it’s late notice, but Pastor Littlejohn and I were hoping you’d be able to have supper with us after church along with Mr. Tidwell—to make the proper introductions.”

Just what Della had been waiting for! “Yes, of course,” she said. “I’ll let Mr. Jennings know of my whereabouts. Thank you!”

Mabel smiled and motioned for Della to enter the church before her. As her eyes scanned the room, trying to find Roy and Mary, she noticed Hank sitting alone in the back pew.
I’m surprised he’s not sitting smack in the middle of three or four silly girls,
Della scoffed. She spotted her host and made her way down the aisle to sit beside them. They were in the second row, and while she was grateful for the opportunity to hear the sermon front and center, she couldn’t help the urge to glance around the room, trying to figure out the identity of Milton Tidwell. As the Pastor spoke his sermon, Della casually turned around to see if anyone was looking at her—a clear sign it would be Mr. Tidwell. There was no one to the left or right looking her way, so she turned her head back toward the doors of the church. Every man faced forward, listening to the sermon, expect one—Hank Hensley—who was staring directly at her, quietly chuckling—as if he’d been watching her all this time and knew exactly what she was up to! Della’s eyes grew wide and she quickly turned back around to focus on the sermon.
Well it figures he wouldn’t be listening to the sermon,
she thought.
Of all people, he probably needed to hear the Lord’s word most! It was just as well that Milton wasn’t paying attention to her—he must be a Godly man who has his priorities straight.

At the end of the sermon, Della rose with Roy and Mary and made her way to the church steps where Mabel and Pastor Littlejohn were bidding everyone a farewell. Della noticed Hank exit the church before her. He stood chatting with a group of businessmen, obviously immersed in a serious discussion. She was glad he hadn’t approached and teased her about her behavior—it would have been terribly embarrassing.

“Della,” Mabel said as the last of the congregation exited the building. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Milton Tidwell.”

Della looked up and drew in a sharp breath. He was not attractive like the other men—rather wiry looking and pale. He wore a black suit and top hat, which he removed, revealing a receding hairline that led to a stark display of slicked back, oily hair. He was also many shades paler than the other men, which contrasted with the thin mustache defined above his upper lip. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tidwell,” Della fibbed, hoping that despite his physical appearance, he would have a soft heart and engaging personality that could help her fall in love with him. At the very least, he had to be a better man than Hank Hensley!

“Yes, I’m sure,” Milton replied in a nasally voice, shaking her hand weakly.

As Mabel explained the meal she was preparing for their supper, Della noticed Hank watching the encounter. “Oh, that just sounds
lovely
,” Della said a little too loudly, smiling and touching the arm of Milton, who tensed up at the unusual contact. When she looked back at Hank to see his reaction, he was gone. Della’s face burned with humiliation and regret. She was relieved when Pastor Littlejohn approached and guided them across the street to their home.

“Well, I see we’ve all met,” Pastor Littlejohn said. “Shall we?”

The foursome crossed the road and made their way into the comfortable home.
“Please, have a seat,” Mabel announced. “I just have to set the table.” A delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen where Mabel had been cooking earlier in the day.

An uneasy silence settled over the room when Mabel exited. Milton and the pastor waited for Della to be seated before sitting down across from her in the parlor. “So, how do you like Fort Worth so far, Della?” the pastor inquired.

“Oh I just love it,” Della said, grateful for the conversation to begin. “It reminds me of home somewhat.”

“Back in Massachusetts?” the pastor asked.

“Florida,” Della said.

“I thought you were from Massachusetts,” Milton said accusingly as his nose twitched in a very unattractive manner.

“Oh no,” Della explained. “I was only there for a week before the unfortunate fire. I’d come straight from Florida with my sister and her husband, Charles. I’m hoping she can come visit here soon.”

“She’ll need to wait until after the arrangements are complete,” Milton stated emphatically. “Then she’s welcome to the house anytime during the day while I’m at the bank, as well as to have supper after church on Sunday. Evenings, I prefer no visitors. I’ll have my secretary, Emily, send over the hotel details for you to send to her.”

“Um…well, I reckon that’s fine,” Della said, shocked at the firm and mean spirited manner in which he made his wishes known. He certainly didn’t seem shy, as she’d imagined. More likely, Mary hadn’t witnessed his kindness because there was very little to be found! Mabel called them over to the table, and Della watched as Pastor Littlejohn pulled Mabel’s chair out for her. Milton didn’t do the same for her—he simply walked to his chair and waited to sit until she’d seated herself.

“How are you two getting along?” Mabel asked, passing the plate of chicken to Della.

Della stayed quiet. She was afraid if she opened her mouth, all sorts of unkind things would come flying out of it, spoiling her chance at a future here in Texas.