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

  After they’d met at the factory, Rachel had invited her to move in with her and had truly become her sister, as if they had been born that way. Rachel did have family, but they lived too far away to visit.

  Studying herself again in the mirror, she decided she looked refreshed enough to not scare the man.

  Then she smiled into the mirror and her face lit up.

  All right. New plan. As long as she smiled enough, perhaps James wouldn’t notice that her clothes were rumpled from traveling so long and her skin not as fresh as she might wish.

  She frowned again. She’d save up her smiles until she stepped down onto the train station platform in Minot, North Dakota, less than thirty minutes from now.

  As she stepped into the hallway, the train jostled on the tracks and she stumbled to the right, catching herself on the back of the first seat. The elderly gentlemen seated there smiled up at her and tipped his head.

  She used one of her smiles and nodded back, then made her way back to Mrs. Johnson, who patted the seat beside her. “We’re almost there now.”

  “Thank you for watching out for me,” Violet said as she sank back onto the seat she’d been in for far too many hours.

  The door at the front of the car opened again, and the conductor came back in.

  “Minot,” he called out as he strode briskly through the car. “This is Minot, North Dakota. Prepare to meet your doom!”

  “What?” Violet’s eyes widened as she caught Mrs. Johnson’s gaze. Apprehension grew in her. “What on earth does he mean?”

  And her heart was pounding again.

  Mrs. Johnson smiled and patted her hand. “It’s just something the conductors say because right now the train tracks end here in Minot. Next year they’ll be extended to Williston, and then Casper will surely frighten young women in Williston, and Minot will simply be another stop to doom. Don’t worry, honey.”

  As the train slowed and approached the platform, Violet craned her neck to catch sight of her groom. Then the train blew its whistle and came to a stop with a metallic screech.

  Mrs. Johnson looked out the window. “Oh, there’s my Horace. I must go now. Good luck with your marriage, my dear, and I am sure we will see you again when we come into town next.”

  “Oh, I do hope so.”

  “I will see you outside.”

  Violet watched her new friend climb down and hug a man standing on the platform.

  Then she slowly stood and went to meet her doom—or rather, her groom.

  Dear Miss Keating,

  I was delighted to receive your correspondence. I believe in true love but—though I have received many responses to my advertisement—I had not felt the stirrings of it until I read your sweet letter. And when I know what I want, I go after it with all I have, and will not be denied. I am enclosing a train ticket for your passage from Massachusetts to North Dakota. It will be a trip of four days, if the weather remains good (if it snows and the train should be delayed, I will meet every train until you arrive) so I am also sending some extra money for conveniences and food along the way. I am a generous man and wish to share all I have with you. Since I have been told by the ladies in Minot that I am pleasing to the eye, and you have been told the same, I think our children will be beautiful, which also pleases me. I very much look forward to making your acquaintance. I know you are traveling far from home and will have concerns, so rest assured that I will meet you at the train station on October 15th in my fine new carriage and then I will drive around town to show off your beauty before proceeding to the preacher’s home, where he has agreed to marry us. I cannot wait to look upon your loveliness and know that you are mine. And, though my given name is Nathaniel James Evans, I prefer to go by James as Nathaniel is my father’s name. It is also more to the point, which is also more me than my father. So you will become Mrs. James Evans.

  Yours faithfully and forever, James Evans

  (Letter mailed October 8, 1890 in Minot, North Dakota)

  Minot, North Dakota

  October 15, 1890

  When she got outside, Mrs. Johnson introduced Violet to Horace, and then said, “I am so excited for you, my dear. We would wait to meet your James, but my Horace has a business meeting to attend to, so we must go. Good luck, my dear.” She hugged Violet and wished her the best—and then was gone.

  While Violet waited alongside the train for her brightly colored traveling case to be handed down to her, she scanned the platform.

  A young mother with three children greeted her husband. Two dapper men in suits walked briskly away from the station and climbed into a wagon. A threesome of what might have even been painted ladies—but she wasn’t sure, as she’d never seen any before—fluttered about, flirting with the passing men. And those who weren’t flirting back hurried along on their business.

  But no James.

  She clutched her reticule as her stomach churned.

  In the other direction, she saw four men. One stood beside a woman and four children, so that wasn’t James. One was likely in his eighties, stooped and gray. The third was a man she sincerely hoped was not her husband-to-be—he looked distinctly unprosperous—and even unclean—and she’d gotten the distinct feeling from his letter that James was prosperous. And clean. The fact that he owned a fine carriage was another indicator, and this man looked back at a horse tied up close by, as if to check on it.

  No, these three could not be her future husband.

  The fourth man, though, was a possibility. He was scanning the windows of the train, walking up toward her. He didn’t know she’d left the train, then, and that gave her the luxury of studying him. Her heart caught. He wasn’t as handsome as he’d led her to believe and was barely taller than she—but he had a nice smile.

  A very nice smile.

  She smiled back, her heart fluttering as he drew nearer.

  And then he walked past her—and embraced a woman climbing down from the train.

  Well. She certainly hoped he wasn’t James as she didn’t plan to share her husband with anyone.

  As people came and went, she kept searching for someone who resembled James as he had described himself—tall, dark, and handsome. But everyone was leaving the platform and heading for carriages and horses and wagons.

  And soon she was standing all alone on the platform. Why would he not be here? He had assured her that he would.

  Panic hit her, just as a grizzled old man walked toward her, carrying her bag, and asked, “Is this yours, Miss?”

  She nodded.

  He set the bright bag down beside her and looked into her eyes, concern in his own. “Would you like me to carry it to your wagon?”

  A slight dizziness swept through Violet. She must have faith in her James. He would be here for her. He had assured that he would, so he must just be running late. “That’s very kind of you, sir, but there is no need. My...” she paused, and then said, “husband will be here for me any minute.”

  He nodded and gave a gruff smile. “Very well. Have a good day, Miss.”

  He bustled back to the train. Soon people started climbing onto the train, and it gave a short whistle.

  And still no sign of James Evans.

  Another whistle as the conductor called out, “All aboard!” The train began to make a loop around the station to head back the way it had come, but on another set of tracks.

  Her breathing quickened in her anxiety, and Violet shivered and pulled her coat about her, though the breeze had died down. There was no snow on the ground, but the clouds were thick in the air, and they promised that there might soon be some. The land around her was flat for as far as she could see.

  James wasn’t here to meet her? But surely he would be along any moment. Perhaps he was a man who had good intentions, but arrived late.

  He’d written “faithfully and forever.” He was merely temporarily detained. She had to believe that.

  Forcing back the anxiety, she looked about her, turning in a slow circle.

  Sh
e was alone on the platform. She couldn’t even see the station master.

  She was truly alone, standing on an empty platform, the wind blowing her scarf and cold cutting through her skin, the horizon flat, the people gone.

  And then she saw him!

  Surely it must be he, merely a few minutes late.

  Relief flood through her, weakening her knees. She unclutched her fingers from her reticule and flexed them.

  He drove a wagon, not a fine carriage, but perhaps she had misread. Or perhaps he was prone to exaggeration.

  But he had certainly not exaggerated his handsomeness. The man had a full head of wavy brown hair with definite streaks of blond, almost gold, running through it, and his hair tickled the collar of his jacket. She would enjoy running her fingers through that hair.

  As he pulled the horses to a stop and climbed down, he stood even taller than she’d expected, and he was more muscular, as well. Dressed ruggedly, in jeans and flannel shirt and warm brown coat, he wore a black hat on his head and a neat brownish-blond beard.

  As he strode toward her with long strides, she smiled at him.

  Finally, she took three steps toward him.

  He stopped. Tipped his hat. “Morning.”

  Happiness sang through her. This man was magnificent. He stood a head taller than her, and she felt safe already around him. Shyly, she said, “I am so glad to meet you. I was so afraid when I first arrived and you weren’t here.”

  He had intense, blue-green eyes. If she were a swooning woman, he’d be worth swooning over.

  He smiled, hesitantly. “It is good to meet you, as well.”

  He was so formal, but surely that would ease as they got to know each other. Awkwardness was to be expected upon meeting your future spouse for the first time. She certainly felt awkward.

  Perhaps he was just shy, and so she would need to guide their conversations until they knew each other better. “I’m excited to see your town . . . and to meet the preacher.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s starting to snow! And so early in the year.” She looked at the white clouds as pieces of white flakes starting coming down, grateful she wouldn’t have to stand out in it any longer. “I am very glad you came to get me now.”

  She looked up at her soon-to-be husband and sighed happily.

  He was everything she could have possibly hoped for.

  Today I met a captivating woman-child. She almost made me wish I were not a confirmed bachelor. Almost.

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

  DANIEL LUND LOOKED DOWN AT the adorable chit of a girl before him.

  Wearing a rumpled dark blue dress that made her skin glow, she looked to be less than twenty—though he had a hard time estimating women’s ages and would never hazard a guess.

  Regardless, it was indeed snowing now, even if just lightly, and he needed to carry her bag to the shelter of the station. Any gentleman would.

  “Let me help you, Miss.”

  She slipped her hand around his arm—and he nearly toppled over from surprise. She didn’t look it, but she was a forward little thing.

  It had been far too long since a woman touched him, and his heart pounded roughly in his chest at the warmth. He leaned over and picked up her bag with his other hand, and started toward the station house, taking small steps so she could keep up.

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and she walked beside him.

  As he drew closer to the small building, he saw that the door was locked and the “Closed” sign hung in the window. McDougall was probably inside getting drunk again.

  He stopped as the snow flurried more heavily.

  He looked down at her and paused, caught in her warm gaze and—heaven help him!—her smile. It lit up her face into such beauty, he longed to caress her cheek. And a strand of her hair had worked its way loose and he wanted very much to touch it. And—get hold of yourself, man!

  Forcing an awkward smile of his own, he said, “If you trust me, you can climb into my wagon and escape the snow.”

  She looked at him, innocence and trust in her beautiful toffee-brown eyes. “Of course I trust you.”

  The words pierced his heart. She couldn’t possibly know how much those words meant to him—even from a total stranger. And how pathetic did that make him?

  She studied his wagon. “This is attractive and more sturdy than most that I’ve seen.”

  “It’s a John Deere wagon used in our business for hauling wood and furniture.”

  She touched a gloved hand to the dark green side. “I like it.”

  “And I added the cover over the seat because there can be so much snow here and I like to stay dry.

  She flashed that dazzling smile up at him. “How clever of you.”

  Heaven help him.

  He helped her up onto the seat of the wagon, the warmth of her waist searing his hands where he touched her so briefly, and climbed in on the other side.

  They were protected from the worst of the snow by the covering, but the woman sat far too close. He needed to get her to her destination—and quickly. Swallowing, he said, “Where may I take you?”

  She tipped her head. “I thought you were going to drive me around town, and then take me to the preacher’s house.” She sounded disoriented.

  Was she right in the head? She didn’t seem to be. She seemed to be living in some fantasy world far from the one he inhabited.

  But she was beautiful and brought out feelings of protectiveness in him, so he said, “I will take you to my sister Amelia’s house where you can rest from the snow while you get your bearings.” He picked up the reins.

  She glanced up at him, her smile dazzling. “Just to think that I shall soon be your wife brings such happiness to my heart.”

  Lowering the reins, he looked down at her, a sudden chill in his chest. “I beg your pardon?”

  Her eyes widened. “Have you changed your mind? Are we no longer getting married this evening?”

  “Ma’am, I have never met you before.”

  “Oh, I know. But you sent me the letter.” She dug an envelope from her reticule, pulled the two pages of the letter from it, and unfolded them, then held them out to him. “I’ve read this letter over and over. I’ve practically memorized it. It contained the tickets to come here.”

  “Letter...?” He must sound like an idiot. And then realization dawned.

  This beauty was a mail-order bride?

  He struggled to get his mind around that concept.

  Stunned, he took the letter and read partway down the first page.

  The fellow who’d written it was a lucky man, and Daniel was surprised by the jealousy that flashed through him. However, the man also displayed immaturity and arrogance in his details. His fine carriage. Displaying her beauty all around town. Taking her immediately to wed. Being easy on the eyes.

  Which she was. Definitely easy on Daniel’s eyes. Not so easy on his hands, though, that wanted to touch that stray curl of hair. And more, if he weren’t a gentleman.

  She was making it difficult to remain a gentleman.

  Warmth flushed Daniel’s cheeks, and slowly he lifted his eyes from the letter and caught her warm gaze. Why did she elicit such a response from him? He wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from the hurt this other man had caused.

  “There is no signature,” he said, stupidly.

  “You didn’t sign until the second page. Have you forgotten already?” Her light laughter caught in his chest. She was going to light up some man’s cabin this winter, and he almost wished it could be his.

  “Ma’am—“

  ”You must call me Violet, as we are to be wed.”

  “Miss Violet, what name did I sign on the second 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.