Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39) (4 page)

She looked at him, concern in her eyes. “Do you truly not remember?”

Caught in her gaze, he had the most ridiculous urge to
kiss
her.

She reached over and took the pages from his hand, re-ordered them, and handed them back.

Daniel dragged his gaze from her face to the page. Sure enough, there was a signature on it. The man had declared his undying love and devotion and then signed it—

He looked up at her, stunned. “
James Evans?
”

“Yes.”

Oh, good merciful heavens. James Evans had sent for a wife? For
this
wife? He sputtered, “I am not this man.”

“But you came to fetch me at the station. You were a few minutes late, but that is nothing. Really.”

“Unfortunately for us both, I came to get a load of metal works shipped in from Massachusetts, not a beautiful bride. Only the station master closed the building before I could get them. Thus, we are both disappointed.”

Her eyes widened and he saw fear there. “You are truly not Mr. Evans?”

“I have never before been mistaken for pretty boy Evans. You would not have done so if you had ever seen his cherubic face.” He nodded to her, not putting out his hand to shake hers as he didn’t trust his hands at the moment. “Daniel Lund, at your service. If you still wish, I will drive you to my sister’s home so you can be safe from the weather.”

“But...” The bright smile fled from her lips, from her countenance. “If you are not James Evans, then where is he? Can he have been in an accident?”

He certainly could, as he drove his horses much too recklessly, but Daniel didn’t say this to the man’s future bride—the bride James did not deserve. Instead, he spoke more gently as he saw the panic rise in her eyes, “After I take you to Amelia’s house, I will find James and bring him to you.” He paused. “If you still wish to wed him.”

“Why, yes, that’s why I’ve traveled this far.” With panic in her eyes, she nodded. “Thank you. I would appreciate very much being taken to your sister’s house as I have nowhere else to go until...” Her voice faded off.

He lifted the reins and lightly flipped them, his heart heavy. James didn’t deserve the girl, but that wasn’t his decision to make, was it?

He turned the horses toward his sister’s house.

After he dropped her off in Amelia’s care, he would find the young pup, all right, and when he did, he would give him a tongue-lashing—or worse. James should have at least gotten the date right. Leaving that beautiful, sweet young girl there all alone and worried was unconscionable. And all the while proclaiming his undying love.
Ha
. James had never stayed committed to anything—person, project, or principle—in his life.

When Daniel was through putting the fear of God into him, James would be sorry he’d ever forgotten—and would know he’d best not forget this sweet young thing again.

Or he’d have Daniel to face.

My expectations of being met at the train station by my groom were—shall we say?—derailed.

(Journal Entry, Violet Keating, evening of October 15, 1890)

Bouncing on the seat of the wagon, Violet held on to the side to keep herself steady—and to keep from sliding toward Mr. Daniel Lund, whom she had believed to be her groom. She was finding it difficult to give up her desire to be his bride. When she’d first spotted him on the platform, he had seemed so perfect for her, and the attraction—that feeling other women had talked about but that she had never really experienced for a man—had hit her strongly.

She had never been so aware of a man’s presence before, nor felt so safe. And yet she had also never been as afraid as she was right now, riding in his wagon.

She had already faced so many losses—her parents dying together in an accident, losing the house and inheritance because of the dishonesty of her father’s business partner, being forced out on the street because said business partner—the unethical Edward Frost—thought she would actually marry him to get her house back. She had decided quickly that she would rather die than marry such a scoundrel.

Before, during all of these trials, Rachel had always been there to help her.

Now she truly had no one.

She had come all this distance, given up everything she knew, and come West to... what? She didn’t know.

A groom who had either forgotten her—or who might even now be bleeding in the woods. Had he been attacked by bears? Or Indians? Or something worst, even?

No, the very worst was that she had embarrassed herself in front of Daniel Lund, the man she had thought was her groom. She had taken his arm! She had been totally inappropriate with him! How could she ever look him in the eyes again?

He had been kind and gentle with her, though, so perhaps he would not bring it up again, having now learned that she was under the impression she was to marry him today.

Where could James Evans be?

And would he possibly make her feel as safe as Daniel had in just seconds?

She flicked a glance over at Daniel, large and sturdy and protective, and, for just a moment longer, allowed herself to wish that Daniel Lund
had
been her groom and that she would be marrying
him
in mere hours. Because he made her feel safe, just sitting quietly beside her.

And then she stuffed down that desire even as she stuffed the two pages of correspondence into the envelope and shoved it roughly into her reticule.

One of James’s flaws was that he had not picked her up at the station
promptly
.

A second was that he had not picked her up—at all. He had not kept his word to her. That was only excusable if he were injured—but she couldn’t possibly wish him injured.

This was certainly an inauspicious beginning to their marriage.

I try to meet all my troubles with a happy attitude. Today, though, I found it difficult to maintain a smile.

(
Journal Entry, Violet Keating, October 15, 1890)

BY THE TIME DANIEL PULLED the horses to a stop, Violet was determined to put on a happy face.

After all, whatever had gone wrong, Daniel Lund was going to make it right for her. When he asked if she trusted him, she realized that she really did, even though they’d just met. She sensed that Daniel Lund was a man who kept his word. If he said he would find her groom and deliver him to her, he would.

Daniel jumped down and hurried around, patting the horses on his way. When he reached her side of the wagon, Daniel smiled up at her, reaching in for the bag and lifting it effortlessly. Then he held out a hand to her. She was exquisitely aware of his fingers on hers, even through their gloves—probably because she had so brazenly taken his arm earlier.

So she tugged her hand free, stood, and turned to step down, slid a little, grabbed the side tightly—and then felt his large hands on her waist, catching her and lifting her easily to the ground.

He immediately removed his hands as soon as her feet touched the ground, but heat blazed everywhere.

Which meant her face must have flushed red, as it always did when she was embarrassed. She would apologize for having taken his arm—but now he’d taken her waist! It appeared they were even in their inappropriateness.

He looked down at her for a long moment and then slowly smiled, motioning toward the cabin. “This is my sister’s home.”

Violet lifted her skirts to avoid the snowy dirt. Even through the snowflakes, she could see this was a comfortably large log cabin. There was an inviting front porch, the roof of which was supported by four thick, square, wooden pillars, and wrapped with a short railed fence around the perimeter.

She climbed the stairs, suddenly weary to her chilled bones. She followed Daniel Lund to the door, where he knocked, and they waited.

After a short moment, a young woman—whose golden brunette hair color matched Daniel’s brown-and-blond mix—opened the door, looking surprised. The woman wore a pink calico dress partially covered by a deeper pink ruffled apron that sported a hint of flour. A big, well-muscled man sat at the table, a plate of food before him. He placed his napkin on the table and came to stand by his wife.

He was even taller than Daniel, dressed in a long-sleeved green flannel shirt, denim pants, and work boots.

Amelia had the same blue-green eyes with flecks of gold as Daniel—and those eyes were looking from Daniel to Violet questioningly. Then a smile broke out on her face. “Come in.” She swung the door open and stepped aside.

“Thank you,” Violet said, and crossed the threshold into a large, warm room that held a sofa and a medium-sized kitchen table and chairs., There was a window-sized opening in the interior wall on the right, allowing one to see into the kitchen, and a large stone fireplace on the left.

Thank goodness for the fireplace, complete with logs blazing.

As Daniel’s sister closed the door on the cold weather, Violet stood and enjoyed the sensation of warmth seeping into her.

“May I hang your coat for you?” Her hostess asked. “Or would you rather keep it on for a moment?”

Violet figured she’d be warm enough if she stayed closed to the fire, so she shrugged out of her coat. “Thank you.”

Amelia hung it on a hook as Daniel set her bag down by the door.

Then he straightened. “Amelia, this is Violet Keating. Violet, this is my sister Amelia Halvorson and her husband, Sven.”

“I’m pleased to meet you both,” Violet said.

They had quizzical looks on their faces, asking who she was without using any words. Daniel responded to that with, “I’ve brought her here to get out of the storm. Is it all right if I leave her here with you for an hour or two?”

“Of course, but why would you leave her?”

“Because,” Daniel scowled, “I’m going to go track down the sorry, no-good man who sent her a ticket and left her standing alone at the train station.”

“A train ticket?” Amelia’s eyes widened. “You’re a mail-order bride?”

Hesitantly, hoping Amelia wouldn’t look down on her, Violet nodded.

“Who sent you the ticket?” asked Sven, looking genuinely interested.

“James Evans,” Daniel said before Violet could utter the name, and he made the name sound like something you’d scrape off the bottom of your shoe. “And now, if you ladies will excuse me, I will go retrieve the groom.”

He stomped back out into the snowstorm, which looked to be worsening.

Why did Violet feel so bereft as he left? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t give in to despair. His sister seemed nice enough.

If only this nightmare were over.