Page 4 of Mail-Order Bride Runaway
She studied her white-knuckled hands. “He chased after me. As we rolled out of town, I heard him hollering he would find me.” She looked up. Her voice fell to a whisper. “I don’t think he’ll give up easily.”
They both glanced down the road. Andy drew in a gust of air when no one appeared on the horizon.
He brought his attention back to her. “What are you going to do now?” The reality of their situation hit him with a blast. They were likely being pursued by an angry, unscrupulous man. He wouldn’t take her back to Gunders Corner to a man such as she described, but he couldn’t keep her with him. “You can’t stay here with me. Unchaperoned? It’s not acceptable.” When people found out, he’d be expected to marry her.
He’d already decided marriage wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to be tied down. He liked being able to call his time his own. What’s more, he didn’t care to open his heart. It seemed to him that hurt came on the heels of love. Not that anyone learning of this situation would give a hoot about whether or not he loved her.
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Della longed to sit closer to the fire and stretch out her hands to the warmth. Instead, her fingers cramped on the smooth wood of the axe handle. She’d found the weapon as she explored what she could reach while the wheels rattled and banged down the trail. A trunk sat in the middle. A smaller bag beside it. She tried to open the latches of the latter, but they were stiff, and she didn’t want to alert anyone to her presence by making a sound. Then she located the axe above her head. She’d gingerly ran her fingers over the cool metal toward the edge, feeling its sharpness.
A weapon. She could defend herself. And she wouldn’t hesitate to do so if necessary.
Della watched the man who’d discovered her. She held very still—on the outside. Inside, she was a whirlwind of tangled emotions. Many blew by without giving her a chance to name them. Others dropped into her heart like cold rocks, making it contract painfully. They brought an unexpected sting to her eyes, and she stared at the fire, blinking to keep the tears at bay. She must not let him know how unsettled she felt. She must be strong. Make him understand she could take care of herself. Her grasp on the axe handle tightened until she thought she’d leave a permanent imprint of her hand in the wood.
Except she wasn’t feeling strong and capable at the moment. She wanted her mother to hold her and comfort her. She wanted her father to be alive and able to offer guidance. Instead, she stood across the fire from a man she’d never seen before. She was virtually a stranger in a strange land. Her only degree of hope was that this man had not made any untoward movements toward her nor spoken any word that made her feel dirty—such as Mr. Hartman had.
The reality of her situation brought a burst of words. “Where are you going? Why can’t you take me with you? All I need is a ride to the nearest train station. From there I’ll make my way home.” She rubbed at the tension in the back of her neck. Would the money she had hidden in her satchel be enough for a return ticket? Oh, wait. She’d left her belongings back in Gunders Corner. She had nothing but the clothes on her back.
The thought had the power to weaken her knees, but she stiffened her legs. She’d trust God to provide the way when she got to the rail line.
“My plans didn’t include going to a town.” The man stirred beans. The aroma reminded Della that she hadn’t eaten in hours. She licked her lips as she stared at the pot.
He sat back. Feeling his gaze on her, she lifted her head to meet his eyes, taking stock of him. Every glance until now had been to watch for any sign of danger. The man across from her had pale blue eyes that seemed kindly enough. Blond hair. If she didn’t miss her guess, the white rim at his neck indicated a recent haircut. His skin was bronzed from being outdoors. A brown cowboy hat, tan-colored shirt, and dark trousers informed her that he was a working man. A cowboy.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Andy Shannon.”
She inclined her head to acknowledge his information. “Pleased to meet you. Are you from around here?” Was he headed home? Did he live alone? As Ma would say when Della did something she considered ill-thought-out—had she jumped from the frying pan into the fire?
Mr. Shannon pulled the pot of beans toward him. “I live about three days journey to the west. I’m the youngest of four Shannon brothers.” He flashed an amused smile. “Best call me Andy. I’ll never answer to Mr. Shannon. I’ll figure you mean one of my brothers.” He continued, “We run a ranch at the foot of the Rockies.” He looked in that direction.
Della had admired the mountains as she traveled thinking how Ma would enjoy the sight. “A ranch? I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live on a ranch. I imagined eating over a campfire such as this. Cowboys singing to cows as dusk falls.”
He laughed, amusement rather than mockery. “I take it you’ve read some of those dime novels.”
A fleeting smile caught her lips. “Maybe.”
“Men of the Westseries?”
She shrugged. The men in those stories were true heroes who fought every sort of enemy and protected the gal they loved at any cost. Except for their lives. They never died. After all, what kind of story would that be?
Amusement lingered on his face. “It’s not all excitement and adventure. Much of the work is just plain ordinary.”
“You’ve read them too.” Knowing that made her feel safer.
Without acknowledging her observation, he spooned beans into a tin bowl and held it out to her. “You hungry?”
She considered the offering. Would he use the distraction as a way of getting the axe from her? Could she eat without losing her death-grip on her weapon?
He set the bowl on the ground close to her and settled back making it clear he wasn’t interested in trapping her. Or so she hoped.
“You might as well eat.”
He picked up the pot with the remaining beans and didn’t look at her although she wasn’t so foolish as to think he wasn’t aware of every move she made. In fact, he might have his eyes on the axe. How was he to know she held it only for her protection and did not intend to bludgeon him the first opportunity she got?
“Thank you.” She reached for the bowl and sat down with the fire and six feet between them. Her position allowed her to watch for anyone approaching. She’d hide in the wagon again if she saw a rider. Or would it be better to run into the trees? Either way, she wasn’t going to let Mr. Hartman get his hands on her. She lay the axe across her knees.
“I pray before I eat. Do you mind?” His words startled her from her introspection.
