Page 24 of Mail-Order Bride Runaway
She lifted one shoulder. Whatever he’d been about to say, he’d changed his mind. She didn’t care to hear any more. Nothing he could say would divert her from her intention of doing exactly as she’d vowed to her father. “My pa will be pleased when I fulfill those promises and so will my heavenly father.”
“I was barely eleven years old when we moved here. The trip was a real adventure for a kid my age. I helped Ma a lot at the camp. Got wood for her. Carried water. Even learned to make coffee—” At that he slid a mischievous grin to Della and they both laughed. Their gazes lingered. The dust fell to the side. The air between them was clear. Motionless.
The wagon jolted and he turned back to guiding the horses. And continued his story. “My brothers always say I was Ma’s favorite.” He chuckled. “I didn’t mind.” His features drooped. Sadness replaced amusement. “I really miss her.”
Della touched the back of his hand. “It’s hard to lose a beloved parent.”
He nodded. “Ma drilled into us that if we made a promise, we were obligated to keep it. I remember one time I told Luke—that’s one of the twins—”
Twins. Brothers. Della knew so little about his family.
Andy continued as if he’d given explanation enough. “I told him I’d take care of his chores for a week if he’d do mine for me one night—I can’t even remember what was so important.” He rocked his head back and forth. “I didn’t realize that Luke, being older, had more chores. Now I had to do mine as well as his. And Ma wouldn’t do anything to make it easier.”
“Good for her. Promises must be kept.”
He laughed. “By the third day, I’d had more than enough of Luke’s chores.”
“Are you telling me you didn’t do them?” That certainly didn’t fit with the little she knew about him.
“They got done and not by Luke. And not by me.” Andy’s eyebrows rose. He waited as if wondering how curious Della was.
She was more than interested in what he’d done. Somehow, she got the impression his mother wouldn’t have let him worm his way out of his promise. “Who did them?”
“We have this hired man, Wally. He’s been with us for as long as I remember. Came west with us. He lives in a cabin on the place. Anyway, he has a fondness for Ma’s boiled raisin cake. I begged Ma to teach me how to make it. And she gladly did. Then I asked if I could take it over to Wally.” He grinned crookedly. “I expect she wondered what I was up to, but she agreed. I showed up before evening chores. Wally swallowed hard unable to take his eyes off the cake. I knew I could bargain with him.” He slowed his words. “I said he could have the cake—the whole thing—if he would do Luke’s chores for the rest of the week.”
“You scoundrel.” Della tried to sound shocked but couldn’t help but be amused.
“Maybe. Or smart. Depends on how you look at it. Wally readily agreed.”
“What did your ma say?”
“Nothing. I don’t know if she figured out what I’d done but knowing Ma she probably did. My point is—” His eyes were steady, challenging as he faced her. “I fulfilled my promise differently than Luke expected.”
She held his gaze, searching for why he’d told her that story. How did he think it applied to her situation?
He shrugged. “I just thought it might be something to think about.”
Did he think she was seeking a husband to take care of her ma was like bribing someone to fulfill her promise? Was that what she was doing? Her insides coiled and twisted at the notion. The friction of the twisting about almost made her innards catch on fire. In fact, she could smell smoke.
“Smoke! I smell smoke.” She sat up, instantly alert and studying their surroundings. She’d heard stories about the fast-moving fires and people being overtaken. Could they hope to outrun a blaze?
“I smell it too.” Andy was on his feet, searching the horizon.
7
Andy’s eyes stung from staring into the distance. He sniffed into the wind. The odor was unmistakeable. The land shimmered with heat waves making it difficult to bring the scene into focus. Gray clouds billowed to the north. Smoke? Or dust? Or evidence of the train approaching?
Satisfied that no flames raced toward them, he pushed the horses into a trot. The sooner they reached Dundare, the better he’d feel.
“I don’t see a fire.” Tension crackled from Della’s words.
“Nor do I.” But the smell of smoke could not be dismissed. He squinted down the trail. Shapes wavered ahead of them. Buildings? Or a mirage? A few minutes later he made out a cluster of structures. “Dundare, I believe.” He pointed in that direction.
Della strained forward, her hand knotted on the bench between them. That white-knuckled grasp said all he needed to know. She was as concerned about the smell of smoke as he and also consumed with the fear of Mr. Hartman overtaking them before she could escape.
Would the man really trail her this far? He’d have to ride up and down the line, inquiring about Della. Though he’d met men who could not take losing and who went to absurd lengths rather than admit failure.
They drew closer to the buildings. He estimated it to be about the same size as Crow Crossing. They followed the road down the center of town. Past a church with a bell tower. Past a store—Dundare General.
