by Trinity Ford
Milton would have a chance to show his charitable side to the townspeople, too—by bidding a good sum for his fiancé’s picnic hamper. Della sometimes thought that Milton might be perceived by some of the townspeople as a cheapskate and a bore. Maybe this event would put him more in their—and her—good graces.
…
A little over a week later, it was time for the event. When Della had mentioned it to Milton the day Hannah stopped by, he hadn’t reacted at all like she’d hoped. “Why should I have to pay for the repairs?” Milton complained. “And certainly you should have known better than to commit to something like this and pledge my money before speaking to me about it.”
Della’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Not only was she humiliated and angry at the fact that he saw it as an imposition, but he was speaking loudly in the parlor where Roy, Mary and Helen could hear in the kitchen of the home. “I haven’t pledged your money,” Della argued in a whisper. “I just thought…”
“You just thought,” Milton mocked. “I’ll attend the event, since you’ve put me on the spot, but in the future, please obey my wishes and decline any invitations that I haven’t yet approved on our behalf.”
Della had avoided Milton all week. She needed time to cool off—to figure out how she was going to keep her commitment to the plan she’d made to marry Milton, and somehow live with the fact that her marriage would never have the strong bond she’d always desired. After a lot of thought and plenty of prayer, Della talked herself into trying even harder. She wasn’t a quitter, and she was sure that after they were married, she and Milton would be closer than they were now—especially if they raised children together. He just wasn’t used to being in a relationship, and it sounded as if he was never in a close knit family as a child. He just needed a little prodding and lots of patience.
Milton was arriving shortly to escort her to the Picnic for Pairs event. Della stood in front of the mirror looking at the dress she wore—the one Milton had purchased for her that she’d worn to the Stockyards. Although it was made from cheap fabric that scratched Della’s skin, it was still a better design than the plain dresses she’d brought to town. It felt odd, though—out of place—kind of like Milton himself, whenever Della had seen him trying to talk to people in town. It certainly wasn’t the right kind of dress fit for a daytime picnic. The days were getting warm and she knew she’d be miserable in this material.
Della heard a knock at the door. He’s here, she thought, a bit panicked at the thought of not being ready in time for him. She knew he would complain about her tardiness.
“Della?” Roy hollered as he knocked gently on the door. “You have company.”
“I’ll be right out,” Della said. She quickly peeled off the chartreuse dress and threw it on the chair sitting in the corner. “What am I going to wear?” she said, talking to herself. Della flipped through her selection of simple dresses, scolding herself now for being so rigid with her insistence on dressing down. “Ugly! All of it!” she griped. As the last dress came into view on the long peg fastened to the wall for holding clothes, Della spotted one that made her gasp in relief. But, did she dare?
It was the dress Hank Hensley had held up to her that day in Beatrice Reynolds’ store. She touched the velvety soft material and immediately began to struggle with her thoughts of should she or shouldn’t she. On one hand, she didn’t want to give Hank the satisfaction of seeing her in the dress he chose—but she did enjoy the thought of perhaps making Milton jealous and letting him see what a bit more money and much better taste in fashion could buy.
She slid the delicate frock over her corset and called Mary in to fasten the tiny pewter buttons in back. “Oh, Della,” Mary said admiringly, “I can almost imagine how beautiful you look in this dress. Milton isn’t going to be able to take his eyes off you.”
“That’s what I’m betting on,” Della replied. She took one last look in the mirror, grabbed her reticule and headed to the kitchen to grab the picnic hamper she’d so carefully planned and painstakingly prepared.
There was no comment from Milton Tidwell about how beautiful Della looked when she emerged from her room. He didn’t smile or compliment her in any way. He simply took out his pocket watch and glanced at it, raising his eyebrow to silently inform her that she had broken one of his many demands—to always be on time. Della refused to address his boorish behavior and marched straight out the door without attempting to explain herself.
…
The Trinity River Park was beautiful this time of year. Bluebonnets mixed with the emerald green hillside, and red, yellow and pink flowers dotted the spaces in between. It was a beautiful day and a welcome break from the rain they’d had just the week before. Milton and Della approached the event together, but he always managed to walk just a step or two ahead of her.
A table had been set up for the picnic hampers and Della gently placed hers alongside the others. When she turned around, Milton had walked off—joining a group of men standing near the bank of the river, talking. Della was scanning the crowd looking for Millie or Annabelle when Hannah approached. “Della, you look stunning!” she gushed.
Della bowed her head shyly. “Thank you,” she said. She’d never liked drawing attention to herself with things like clothing and make-up, although she did wear a light amount here and there.
“The ladies are all over here,” Hannah said. “We’re going to start the event now—good luck with your bid!”
Della stood with the other single women off to the side of the table. Each hamper would be auctioned off one at a time, with bids being called out from the audience. Della’s heart was racing. She worried that Milton would try to bid too much just to make a showing in the community. She didn’t want to have all that attention on her. Or what if no one bids on my picnic at all? She thought. She really wouldn’t put it past Milton to do just that, being the cheapskate that he was.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer called. “We’re going to start the bidding at $5 for Miss Jean Davey’s picnic. Who will bid $5 for this lovely picnic, which includes biscuits and ham and some of her own peach preserves?” Della watched as Jean’s hamper received bids from three different gentlemen, settling in at $8. There were cheers and clapping all around.
The announcer went through several other bids before Della’s hamper came up. Ruth’s sold for $10, Ethel’s only got the beginning bid of $5, and Edna’s brought in the most so far at $12. Della’s hands trembled as she took her picnic hamper from the announcer and stood beside him for the auction.
“Tell us about the picnic you have planned, Della,” he said.
“Well, I’ve prepared fried chicken, biscuits, deviled eggs and peach cobbler,” she said. A round of applause went up as Della blushed. A few hollers were heard from the crowd, voicing their approval of the delicious and substantial feast she had prepared. She noticed a couple of men standing beside Milton patting him on the back.
“Let’s start this picnic off at $5, but you all know it’s worth a lot more than that,” the announcer said. “Who will bid $5 for Miss Della’s picnic and the chance to spend the afternoon with a lovely young lady?”
“Five dollars!” Milton voiced from the crowd. Della smiled, relieved that a bid had been placed at all—even thought it was a cheap bid from her fiancé. She immediately assumed that her picnic would go for that low price, since Milton would be the only one bidding.
“Very nice,” the announcer said. “Now surely, someone will bid more for this incredible picnic lunch. Remember, this is a fundraiser for the betterment of the town! Can we have a bid for $6?”
“Ten dollars!” roared a voice from the back. Everyone turned their heads and gasped as they watched Hank Hensley walk through the crowd and stand beside Milton Tidwell. Della held her breath in shock. Everyone knew she was betrothed to Milton. Hank was making a mockery of their relationship. She forced a smile on her face, but felt the heat rising up to her cheeks.
After hesitating a momen
t that was too long for Della, Milton nervously squeaked out, “$10.50.” Milton was smiling a bit too widely—a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes—and beads of sweat were prominently popping out on his forehead.
Hank didn’t hesitate at all after Milton’s bid. “Fifty dollars for Miss Owens’ picnic!” he yelled. Turning to Milton, Hank slapped him on the back. “For the good of the town, of course,” Hank said to him.
Milton shrugged and conceded defeat as Della stood by the jubilant auctioneer. “Sold to Mr. Hank Hensley for $50! Hank, come on up and fetch your prize,” the man said.
Comments were flying within the audience as Hank approached the auctioneer and Della. Some were shocked at Hank’s audacity at outbidding the fiancé and others were laughing and congratulating Hank on getting one up on Milton Tidwell.
“Why, Della Owens,” Hank said as he took the picnic hamper from her hands. “Don’t you just look ravishing in that dress?” The smug look of satisfaction on his face made Della wish she’d never worn the dress he’d personally chosen and paid for.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Della said. “I must go say goodbye to my fiancé.” Della shoved the picnic hamper toward Hank and hurried over to Milton, who was walking toward his wagon.
“What are you doing?” Milton scolded when she came up beside him.
“I…I came to say goodbye,” she said. “That horrible Hank Hensley, bidding an obscene amount like that! Why no one in town could compete with that bid.”
“I really don’t understand why you’re over here instead of over there with him,” Milton said, confused. He turned his back to Della and stepped up into his wagon. “The last thing I want is for him to withdraw his business from the bank due to your rude behavior at a town event.”
Della was so shocked she couldn’t speak. She backed up as Milton’s wagon began to move and stood staring at him until he was out of sight—her chin quivering and her eyes welling up with tears she refused to unleash.
“This picnic’s going to go stale if you keep standing out here avoiding me,” Hank said softly as he walked up behind Della and gently bumped her with the hamper.
“Are you happy now?” Della said, turning on him with fury in her eyes. “You’ve made a fool out of him…out of me…ruined my plans for the day, and for what? So you could show everyone how much money you’ve got? How you can buy any woman you want? Well you can’t buy me, Hank Hensley. You can buy that food, but you’ll never buy my heart or my dignity.”
Hank stood in place, letting Della have her say. When she was finished, he was silent for another minute, letting her entirely vent her anger. Then, he spoke in a firm, but kind manner. “The way I see it, I did you a favor,” he said. “Milton isn’t the kind of man who enjoys spending money, even if it benefits the community, and he’s a fool regardless of what I bid or what he didn’t. You’re walking out of here having brought in the most money, contributed to the betterment of our streets and sidewalks—something everyone will appreciate. I’m not trying to buy you Della, I’m trying to make you see your own worth. As for your plans being spoiled, I can’t imagine any woman wanting to spend a beautiful day sharing a picnic with Milton Tidwell. And if you’re honest with yourself, I think you’ll admit that I’m right.”
Della knew Hank was right, but at that moment she was too mad to admit to anything. “Let’s get this over with,” she said coolly, grabbing the hamper out of Hank’s hands and marching to the bank of the river. She took the small blanket she’d used to cover the food and was about to spread it on the ground.
Hank grabbed it out of her hands and took the hamper from her once again. “Not here,” he said. “I want to show you something.”
“Well I didn’t agree to go elsewhere,” Della said sharply.
“Suit yourself,” he said, handing her back the hamper and walking off towards his wagon. Della noticed others looking their way and she felt embarrassed that their argument was on display—especially after Hank had paid an exorbitant amount for her picnic.
“Oh okay!” she said, stomping off to catch up with him and walking ahead of him so she could finish this day as fast as possible. On the way, Della sat in silence as he drove the carriage, mulling over the events of the day in her head. A part of her was proud of the fact that someone had spent that kind of money on her. It still didn’t excuse Hank’s behavior, but Della smiled when she recalled how the other girls looked when the bid came in. And truth be told, Hank was right—she didn’t have any desire to spend the day with Milton, although Hank wasn’t high on her list of desired company, either. At least she could expect some stimulating conversation now.
Hank took Della to a small, spring-fed pond. It was surrounded and protected by some of the most beautiful vegetation Della had seen since moving to the frontier. There were weeping willows—their branches leaning toward the water as if to kiss the shiny stillness. Vines grew everywhere and some sported colorful flowers that scented the air surrounding the pond. Boulders were stacked and leaning against each other on one side of the pond, creating a small waterfall for the fresh spring water flowing strong after the recent rains.
As the wagon came to a stop, Della noticed two deer skittering from the edge of the pond. It was so calm and peaceful that the only sounds she heard were the birds twittering from the treetops.
Hank hopped down and turned to help Della from the carriage. His hands circled her waist and he lifted her down slowly, bringing her face to face with him. “I hope I didn’t make you too mad and that we can enjoy our day,” Hank said softly as he looked into her eyes. Milton had never helped her down off his wagon.
Della looked up at Hank and for the first time let herself be free of the anger and disappointment she felt at her plans failing to work out once again, and enjoy the fact that a man as handsome as Hank was doting on her. She had to admit, he’d done a good deed that day, even if it did interfere with her original plans. “Well,” she said coyly, turning her face away. “I suppose I can forgive you since it was for a fund raising event.”
“That’s mighty kind of you,” Hank said. “Shall we?” He took the picnic hamper in one hand and held out his other arm for Della.
Della laced her arm with his and they walked toward a soft, grassy area near the edge of the pond. “It’s beautiful here,” she said as she looked out over the water. “Breathtaking.”
“Yes,” Hank said, looking pointedly at her instead of the pond. “Roy and Helen treating you right?”
“Roy and Mary, yes,” Della said. “But Helen doesn’t treat Roy very well after…” her voice trailed off, not wanting to embarrass Hank.
“After what I did,” Hank said/ Della hung her head and nodded.
Della blushed. She took the blanket and spread it out, motioning for Hank to join her. “What is this place?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“It’s where I used to come when we first moved here,” Hank said.
“You and your parents?” Della asked as she opened the hamper and began to remove utensils and food containers. She carefully unwrapped the food she had so carefully prepared for her and Milton and fixed a plate for Hank and herself.
“Me and my…” Hank started. “Me and the man who raised me as his son.”
“And your ma?” Della prodded. The smell of the food was mouth-watering and both of them were starving. Della noticed that Hank was diving into the meal like it was his last. She surmised that he didn’t get too many home-cooked meals with the hours he worked and the places he frequented.
“She didn’t raise me,” Hank said in a matter-of-fact manner. “Floyd Hensley—the man who gave me his name—brought me here and stepped in to raise me, but he took off when I was around eighteen years old. Been here ever since. I love Fort Worth. Just not sure it’s learned to love me back.”
“Well you seem to be doing very well here,” Della said.
“Depends on what you call very well,” Hank said. “Money wise? Sure. I have a home. Several businesses. But
my life’s not complete yet.”
“What is it you’re missing?” Della asked. She wasn’t sure how far she should delve into Hank’s private life without giving him the wrong impression, but she was truly interested in this man. He was so different than anyone she’d ever met and she had to admit to herself that she was beginning to actually like him.
“A woman like you,” Hank said—again, so matter-of-fact that he was bound to have given it thought.
“Mr. Hensley,” Della said, using his last name to put a more formal barrier of sorts between the two, “I’m afraid it’s not proper for me to be discussing such things with you. I’m betrothed to Milton as you know.” Even as she said the words, she knew she felt no passion behind them. She felt nothing for Milton Tidwell, but Hank Hensley brought all sorts of emotions to the surface.
“I know,” Hank said. “And I regret the fact that I turned Pastor Littlejohn down when he first came to me about you. I had no idea what I’d be missing out on.” Then, Tidwell stepped in and I…well…I lost out.” Hank’s voice trailed off.
Della’s heart sank. Hank was supposed to be the one she came for? “You’ll find someone,” Della said a little too quickly, resisting the feeling deep within her to admit she regretted the situation, too. Doing that would ruin everything she’d been working toward—all her careful plans—and even though he was showing a softer side that day, Hank Hensley was not a man you could count on for stability. “We’d better go now.” Things were getting much too deep and she didn’t want to risk showing her true feelings.
They gathered the picnic up in silence and Hank took her back to the Jennings’ house. Each of them were obviously lost in thought about how things might have turned out if Hank had made a different choice that day with Pastor Littlejohn. Even though no words were spoken on the ride home, the stolen glances shouted what each of them was thinking.