Page 2 of Mail-Order Bride Secret
“Are we there?” they asked in unison.
“No. Just a stop.”
Jonny fussed at having his sleep disturbed.
“Come along.” She stowed her belongings on the overhead shelf, scooped up her son, and left the car, the twins at her heels.
First things first. She sent a telegram to the uncle of the children, informing him they were with her andsafe and unless he objected, she would keep them. Having seen the man’s lack of interest in the twins, she couldn’t imagine him objecting but told him she could be contacted at Crow Crossing, Montana if he wished for further discussion on the matter.
Her purse grew considerably lighter when she paid for the telegram. She filled the canteen with fresh water, made sure the children all drank deeply then they crossed to the store to buy food. “This will have to last us for two days.”
The twins nodded, their eyes were full of knowledge beyond their years.
Two days later,a weary bunch made their anxious way from the train car, carrying their few belongings with them. Jonny whimpered. All this moving and unsettledness made him unhappy. He was tired and hungry as they all were. The twins wore matching expressions of fear and determination. They now had on the clothing she’d made for them. They looked tidy and a little sweet.
Madeline stood on the wooden platform and drew in a deep, unsatisfying breath. She studied her surroundings. The trees had shed their leaves. Their bare branches resembled accusing fingers pointing truth to the world. A bitter taste stung her tongue. Truth was like the dying leaves. Sometimes best left onthe ground to disappear into memories of another time.
The nearby evergreens were dark and moody a sharp echo of her state of mind. She shifted her gaze to the west, to the white-capped, cold mountains and shivered. They made her aware of how alone she was. How forbidding the future. Steam whooshed down the tracks. Her heart pounded against her eardrums. She breathed in the metallic scent of recent snow, the tang of smoke from the train, the odor of horses, and her own fear.
Determined not to let her anxiety overwhelm her, she sucked in air that was strangely devoid of oxygen and which did nothing to calm her erratic heartbeat. She adjusted her skirt with one hand and shrugged her shawl closer around her shoulders. One side was damp from Jonny’s tears. As usual, his hair stood up in defiance of all her attempts to make it lie smooth. She brushed her hand over his silky hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Poor baby was warm from all his fussing. She needed him to be quiet and well-behaved for just a little longer.
As if reading her mind and objecting, he threw himself backward, almost out of her arms just as a tall cowboy approached them, his face dark and unfriendly. A scar bisected his left cheek. The odor of sweat—both of man and horse—reached her with enough power to make her struggle to hold back a gag.
The twins clung to each other and sidled away.
Fear coursed through Madeline’s veins. Marrying a stranger couldn’t be any worse than the things she endured. But this man did not fit the way she’d pictured Wally Edwards. Not one ounce of kindness filled his expression.
Like the cook had predicted, she’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire by heading west to marry a man she hadn’t met. Now she had three frightened children with her. A cold, snow-fury wind froze the tears on Madeline’s cheeks.
She’d stopped praying more than two years ago when her cries to God for rescue had gone unanswered, but at this present moment, she had nowhere else to turn and silently asked God to guide and protect her and her little brood as they embarked on a terrible-looking future.
He was goingto be late. Today of all days. Not that it was his fault. So far he’d dealt with the horses being challenged by a skunk. They’d wisely refused to move on until the little critter had crossed the road—taking his time with no regard for Wally Edward’s need to hurry. Then one of the neighbors had ridden toward him and stopped to chat. Wally couldn’t bring himself to be rude, but it had cost him several minutes. Heleaned forward as if by doing so he would make time go faster. His knuckles knotted at how hard he gripped the reins. As he guided the wagon down the road, he wondered if something else would delay him. He shook away the worry. He was simply nervous and understandably so. Not every day a man made his way to town to wed a woman he’d only written to. But it was time he married. The Shannon boys had all taken wives leaving him too often lonely. Not a feeling he cared for.
Remembering the letters brought a smile to his lips. The pages had been rich with details about where Madeline worked, the people she saw, and the church she attended. Come to think of it, she’d said little about herself. A widow with a baby boy. She’d once lived in Philadelphia. He understood her parents still lived there. The Shannon ranch would be a huge change from a big city, but she said she looked forward to it.
Tonight, he would go home with a family of his own. Something he hadn’t enjoyed since he was less than four years old. He laughed aloud as the idea filled him with joy. No more lonely evenings that gave the opportunity for thoughts of his past to intrude. How often had he insisted those early years were over? He’d been part of the Shannon ranch longer than he’d been on his own. But sometimes old fears surfaced, laced with a large dose of anger.
Thankfully, the love and care he’d received from the Shannon family had healed the wounds of his past. That and the love of God.
But the memories hadn’t been erased.
He paid no attention to the buildings he passed as he approached town. All that mattered was getting to the train station before she decided he wasn’t coming. If she did, what was to stop her from climbing back onboard and leaving?
The steam engine was still puffing in place on the tracks so she couldn’t have gone.
He reined the horses in, jumped down, and flung the leather straps to the hitching rail. The wooden steps banged under his boots as he clattered up them. Or was it his heart slamming into his ribs with every beat?
On the platform, he drew to a halt. A trail drifter blocked all but the edge of a dark skirt. It was the only lady in sight, and she was being met by someone else.
He stopped walking but the thump of his boots continued in the depths of his stomach.
The cowhand shifted to the left and marched on, revealing a woman. It must be her. Slender. Brown hair. Limp strands clinging to her neck. Weary looking. Twenty-one to his thirty-five, she looked well past her years. Of course, she was exhausted. That he understood.
An unhappy baby twisted in her arms. Jonathan.Son of her deceased husband who had died before he even knew he was going to be a father. The baby was eighteen months old according to what she’d written. To her right were two more children. They seemed alone apart from Mrs. Danby. He scanned the platform and saw no one else nearby though their parents might have gone inside to make inquiries.
The thud of his heels on the wooden planks was startlingly loud and drew three pairs of eyes in his direction.
“Mrs. Danby?” Did his voice sound welcoming? Eager? Guarded? He cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s Mrs. Danby, isn’t it?”
