Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39) (15 page)

(Letter from Darby McClintock, written November 26, 1890, and received December 5, 1890)

Violet looked into James’s eyes. He was still waiting for her response. Violet paused, still confused, and shivered in the cold breeze. “I do have some reservations still.”

“I know I acted poorly, but I have apologized. Surely that must count for something.”

“Of course it does. But it counts more heavily on the negative side that you left me to fend for myself.”

“I know.” He sighed and looked away into the distance. “I hope you will find it within your heart to forgive me soon for that, dear Violet.”

“If you will just give me a little more time. I am very confused right now.”

“Is there another man?”

Surprised, she looked into his eyes and chose her words carefully. “When you were not at the train station to retrieve me, I would have been destitute. A kind family took me in, for which I will always be grateful.”

“But is there another man?” he repeated.

She hesitated, and then said, “I have developed some feelings for a man, I will admit. But I do not fully understand the nature of those feelings. Perhaps it is just friendship.”

“Who is the man?” he demanded.

“I will not say. I do not even know if my feelings are just gratitude or the stirrings of love. But I feel I owe it to this man to talk to him about my feelings before I accept your proposal.”

“I paid for your ticket. You owe me. You are
my
bride.”

He gripped her arm painfully, and she tugged back. He held her tight.

For the first time, fear coiled through her like smoke. “You are hurting me, Mr. Evans. Please release me at once.”

James shook his head. “No. I will not let you go talk to another man. You are
my
bride. And you will be
my
wife.”

And with those words, he slung her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, and strode through the small gate and toward the wagons.

She beat on his shoulders, but he kept walking. She pushed up to see that there were only a few people outside—and none of them were looking at her. One man glanced at her, but then immediately away, heading for the church.

The wind had picked up and would carry away the sound of her voice, but she called out anyway. Still, no one looked up.

And then she found herself dumped unceremoniously into a carriage, one with doors with large, open windows that began to move even as she struggled to her feet. By the time she stood, the carriage was moving rapidly enough she dared not jump out.

But she dared not stay in the carriage, either.

I had hoped to win the hand of the fair Miss Keating, but accepted that I had lost when I saw that Mr. Evans had her slung over his shoulder. Apparently she is to be his bride, after all.

(Journal Entry, Gregor Koch, December 5, 1890)

DANIEL SEARCHED THE CHURCH FOR Violet’s face. Where before he had seen no one but her, now he couldn’t catch sight of her.

Alicia Taylor sidled up to him. “Thank you, Daniel, for helping set up all the tables before.”

Sweet little Alicia would have agreed to marry Daniel in an instant—if he’d ever asked. But she had never enticed him, so he’d been careful to be friendly but give her no reason to think he wanted a deeper relationship. “You’re welcome.”

“I saved you some pie,” she said.

“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.” He took the plate of pumpkin pie with a nod and turned back to study the crowd.

Still he didn’t see Violet. Or James, either.

“Who are you searching for?” she asked.

He would not hurt Alicia with Violet’s name, so instead he said, “James Evans.”

Behind him, a man’s voice said, “I saw him five minutes ago. He flung his woman over his shoulder and tossed her in his wagon and took off.” Daniel turned to find Gregor Koch, who shrugged. “We both lost.”

“
His woman?
”

“The redhead. His mail-order bride.”

“She’s not his woman,” Daniel growled.

The man shrugged. “‘Tis semantics. He flung a woman over his shoulder, tossed her in his carriage, and drove away with her.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

Gregor shrugged again. “I lost out. So did you. He’s the winner. Can’t fight that.”

Panic nipped at Daniel. “Do you know where he was going?”

The other man shook his head. “Only know he was headed on the road back toward the old mill, but he could have gone anywhere from there.”

Daniel set down the uneaten piece of pie, retrieved his coat, and strode outside, determined to find her and bring her back.

Daniel was going to rescue her—and if James had hurt even one hair of Violet’s head, he was a dead man!

And when I know what I want, I go after it with all I have, and will not be denied.

(From a letter from James Evans to Violet Keating dated October 8, 1890)

In the back of the carriage, Violet was jostled and thrown from side to side. If they went over a bad bump, James would call back over his shoulder, “I’m sorry!” but he didn’t slow down.

It seemed that if he were truly sorry, he would stop this stupid vehicle.

What was he thinking? What was he going to do to her?

When she’d first answered his ad, as she waited for his answer, as she rode the train for four days, as she pulled up to the station—she’d been
thrilled
at the thought of being his wife, his new bride that he was going to whisk away to the pastor’s house and then take to the home he’d been making pretty just for her.

Where was
that
man? He hadn’t shown up at the train station—and he wasn’t here now. And she didn’t know who the real James was. But she knew he had crossed a line—and she was terrified of what he planned to do to her.

She pulled herself to the side of the carriage and peered over the edge, holding tight to keep herself from falling back down. The trees flew by so fast that she knew she still didn’t dare jump out. But the horses couldn’t keep going this fast. They were huffing and puffing and would have to stop soon—or die. Surely he wouldn’t kill his horses. And when they began to slow down, she
would
jump out of this carriage. She was not going to die this night. She would put up a fight.

And she would not become the wife of a man who thought he had the right to kidnap her.

The horses slackened their pace, and her fingers were tightly clenched around the top of the edge.
A little more
, she sent in a mental plea to the horses.
Slow down just a little more
.

And they did. Just a little more. Just enough.

And then she saw a cabin, set against the trees—secluded and frightening.

And she jumped.

I have never been so afraid in all my life as when the woman I have grown to love was in danger. I would have given my life to keep her safe!

(Journal Entry, Daniel Lund, December 5, 1890)

Daniel spurred his horse. He could not know for sure where James had been headed—but he knew of the cabin the Evans family had purchased a year ago. It must be the place where he intended to bring his new bride.

James had taken Violet in that direction, and Daniel thought he would find them there.

Panic nipped at him, hard on his heels, and he pressed his horse faster.

The man had said James had headed this way—the opposite direction from the pastor’s house and in the direction of the edge of town and his cabin.

If he didn’t get there soon enough, James might have proceeded with the consummation before the marriage. Getting the cart before the horse, as it were.

Daniel couldn’t bear it if anything happened to the girl! He’d taken it upon himself to protect her, and he was determined to do so, to keep her safe from any unseemly actions—and kidnapping her was the ultimate unseemly act.

He was in love with her. He’d finally realized that. Though he didn’t feel worthy to declare himself to her.

Again, Daniel pressed his horse to go faster.

He had to get there in time! And, depending on what James had chosen to do, Daniel might destroy the man.

I am longing for a loving husband who will protect me and our future children—and you sound like such a man.

(From letter from Violet Keating to James Evans dated September 29, 1890)

Violet hit the icy, cold ground with an “Oooph!” and rolled, getting tangled in her dress and coat.

Rolling to a stop, bruised and scratched by rocks, she untangled herself and rose to her feet. Looking after the wagon, she saw he was almost to the cabin.

He hadn’t spotted her yet, and she began to run, first back up the road, but then she realized she would have to go into the trees to hide.

A wolf’s call sounded in the distance, and she shivered.

Into the woods, where scary things hunted at night.

She paused, glanced back, and stepped into the trees, running in her flimsy slippers.

She heard a yell behind her. He’d realized she was gone!

She ran faster, and kept running until, finally, she had to stop to catch her breath, which was ragged with the exertion.