Page 2 of Mail-Order Bride Runaway
A wagon stood a few feet away. A tarpaulin covered its load. She lifted a corner of the canvas and dove under cover. She held her breath and prayed.Hide me, oh thou great Jehovah.
Many boots clattered on the wooden sidewalk. Many voices spoke. Only one voice concerned her, and she strained to listen, hoping she wouldn’t hear it.
“You seen a young woman?” Mr. Hartman didn’t even disguise his anger. Or maybe that was his normal tone.
It seemed no one had noticed her in the dust.Thank you, God.
She held her breath and strained for every sound. Was she trapped in her hiding place? Her muscles coiled, prepared to push past anyone who lifted the tarp. The store door squealed open and banged shut several times. The wooden floor beneath her tipped and began to move. Her throat closed off. She struggled to remain still and quiet. What if that dreadful man drove the wagon?
“I’ll find you. See if’n I don’t. And when I do…” The roar of Mr. Hartman’s words faded, drowned out by the rattle of the wheels below her ears and the growing distance.
She exhaled with slow caution. At least he wasn’t driving her away. Her heart bounced back up her throat. What if the man holding the reins was someone just as awful?
The wagon rolled on. Her pulse hammered as loud as the thud of horse hooves. What was she going to do now? She shifted to peek out the back. Gunders Corner was still in sight, and she retreated inside. This conveyance had to be going somewhere. She’d wait until it stopped and slip out.
And then what?
* * *
Andy Shannon leanedover his knees, the reins drooping from his hands. He didn’t want to deliver the trunk to Trudy and her husband.
“She needs it as soon as possible,” Trudy’s mother had said. “It’s baby clothes I’ve saved for her. Made some new ones of course. I’m so excited that there is finally going to be a grandbaby.”
Even without hearing the urgency and excitement in Mrs. Gunderson’s voice, he would have agreed. It was the least he could do after what she’d done for the Shannon family. Three years had passed since he’d last seen Trudy. He no longer felt any pain that she’d chosen another. In fact, it would be reassuring to see her and know she was happy. Though what could he do if she wasn’t? She’d made her choice and Andy had moved on.
He’d had a late start in the day, but he’d camp soon. He always enjoyed peace and quiet. Nothing but nature and his own thoughts to occupy himself. His brothers didn’t understand how he could be content with solitude. He gave a soft snort. They also didn’t understand why he wasn’t interested in finding a wife. All three of them had married recently and were forever telling him it was exactly what he needed.
Needed? For what? He had Mrs. Bennet to cook his meals. He could visit his brothers and their wives if he had a hankering to talk so someone. Or Wally. Their long-time hired hand was always good for offering sage advice should Andy be in need of such. Plus, he had his horse, Amigo. They were good friends. When he got back, he’d load up a pack animal and head into the mountains to do some exploring. As soon as the fall work was finished.
Nope. At twenty-two, he had plenty of time to think about settling down though it seemed to him that a man was better off avoiding emotional involvement. Besides, who had time for it?
A stream of water with a border of trees lay ahead. He turned off the road and found a place that looked ideal—some deadwood for a fire, water nearby, and bushes to hide his camp from passersby. He’d spend the night there.
He unhitched the horses and took them to water. Once they were tethered to graze, he gathered wood, and dumped it where he meant to make a fire. His grub was in the wagon, and he untied the tarp covering the trunk and threw it back.
His heart slammed into his ribs, and he looked to where he’d stowed his rifle knowing he couldn’t reach it in time to do anything.
A young woman stared at him, her eyes wide. She scrambled to her feet and lifted his axe in the air.
“Stay away. I’m not afraid to use this.”
He didn’t need his gun. He’d never shoot a woman. “What are you doing there? How’d you get in?”
Her snort informed him what she thought of his questions.
“Care to tell me what you plan to do?” He leaned back on his heels. Did she think she could seize control of his wagon? The horses were tethered a few yards away. He’d never let her get to them.
The axe wavered and she lowered it to her waist, both hands clutching the handle. He might be able to overpower her, but didn’t care to have the weapon flung in his direction. Only two days ago, he’d sharpened the blade and knew it could easily sever a limb or cut him wide open.
She looked past him, squinting into the distance. Was she expecting someone to follow her? An angry father? An even angrier husband?
The trail wasn’t visible from where he stood but he knew where to look and glanced over his shoulder. No swirl of dust to indicate another traveler or a pursuer. He turned back to the stowaway. “Who are you and why are you in my wagon?”
“I could use a drink.” Her voice grated.
“Help yourself. Water for the taking.” He jabbed his thumb toward the river.
She eased toward the end of the box, her gaze never leaving him.
