by Trinity Ford
“Land sakes, child, you okay?” Mabel said, opening the door in her white, long cotton nightgown. Her hair was braided and hanging down across her shoulder and looking a bit tousled—much different from the usual way she wore it in a tight bun. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Everything all right at home?”
“Oh!” Della said, suddenly aware that arriving on someone’s doorstep before the roosters had begun to crow might frighten them. “Mabel, I’m so sorry. I can come back.” Della turned and started to walk down the steps.
“Della, honey, what is it?” Mabel said. “Come on in here and sit a spell while we talk. You must have something really important to say or you wouldn’t be here at this hour.”
Della hesitated as she walked back up the steps, entering the Littlejohn’s house and settling in to their warm, inviting parlor.
“Della? You alright?” Pastor Littlejohn said, emerging from his room also wearing a dressing gown—hair uncombed and sticking out in all directions.
“I’m fine, Pastor Littlejohn, really,” Della lied. “I’m so very sorry for calling on you at such an early hour. But it’s real important and I have to tell you before I bust.”
“Here, honey,” Mabel said, handing Della a saucer with a biscuit and fig preserves and a cup of hot, steaming coffee. “Bless your little heart…tell us what’s wrong.” The couple sat down across from Della and listened as she told them of her dilemma.
“I come to you filled with heartache today,” she began in a breathless voice that seemed to trail off with each word. “I believe in nothing more than keeping a promise to those I respect, and I hold you two in the highest regard.” Della raised her shoulders, held her breath and jutted out her chin before blurting out, “Pastor, my heart is that of a sinner and I need to confess something to you. I have not been able to fall in love with Mr. Tidwell as per our agreement.”
Pastor Littlejohn and his wife looked at each other and grinned. “Well, we figured that might happen,” he said gently. “No need to lose sleep over it. We won’t hold you to it. I’ve always said Tidwell couldn’t knock a hole in the wind with a bag full of hammers, so I’m not surprised he hasn’t been able to win your heart.”
Della smiled slightly. “You won’t make me go back to Massachusetts then?” she asked.
“Heavens, no!” Pastor Littlejohn laughed. “Why, you’re part of our family here in Fort Worth. We don’t run people out of town just for not being able to love someone. There are many more young men in our town who would be more than happy to court a young lady such as yourself. No need to worry…no need at all.”
Della exhaled the breath she’d been holding and relaxed a little. Relief filled her body as she realized her roots weren’t dependent on who she did (or didn’t) marry. Suddenly starving, Della finished her coffee and biscuits with fig preserves and bid farewell to the Littlejohns. The next stop would be the bank—where she needed to inform Milton Tidwell of her decision.
…
The bank was empty this early in the morning. The doors had just opened and Milton was inside his office, settling down to his desk. Della marched in and closed the door gently behind her.
“Della!” Milton said. “What in the world are you doing here so early? And why have you shut the door to my office? People will talk until we’re properly married.”
“I need to speak to you about a private matter,” Della said, using her most professional and direct tone of voice.
Milton looked ahead with his lips pursed, his eyebrows raised. It was the same look he always had when she came to tell him anything—especially asking for money or changing plans. He glanced at his pocket watch as if to tell her to hurry. “Well?” he said, tucking his watch back into its pocket and letting out a loud sigh of impatience. “Get on with it.”
“As you know, I arrived in Fort Worth with the expectation of marrying you,” Della began.
“Yes, yes,” Milton said, taking his pocket watch out of his vest and checking the time once again.
“Will you put that infernal watch away and listen to me?” Della cried in a voice that could be heard on the other side of the bank. Milton was visibly startled by the tone and urgency of her voice. He replaced the watch and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest and staring at her. “I’ve come to the decision that our commitment to one another may have been too hasty,” Della revealed. “I am here to inform you of my desire to call off the engagement.”
For a moment, Della thought that Milton might rise up out of his chair but he sat back down and placed both palms on his desk to keep them from shaking. “Of course you do realize what an inconvenience this is for me, don’t you?” he said finally.
“Yes, and I…” she started to reply.
“And you will be reimbursing me for the cost of your ticket, correct?” he demanded to know in a voice so filled with contempt that Della knew without hesitation that she had made the correct decision.
Flustered at his lack of gentlemanly behavior, but not surprised, Della rose from her chair. She had seen him react as a boor, but never had it brought fear to her heart like at this moment. “I’m going straight to the teller to withdraw the funds immediately,” she said, opening the door to his office.
“Don’t forget the attire I purchased, as well,” Milton said matter-of-factly, licking his thumb as he shuffled through papers, immediately getting back to work as if the loss of Della meant nothing at all to him.
As long as gets his money back, he couldn’t care less about my well-being, she thought. Why, he hasn’t even asked if I would be leaving Fort Worth! Della stopped and turned to watch him through the glass. She wasn’t sure if Hank Hensley was the right plan for her life, but she knew for a fact Milton wasn’t. Della approached the teller’s window and withdrew the funds needed to reimburse her former beau.
“I do hope you will find happiness with someone more suited to your personality,” Della said as she held out her hand that contained the money Milton had demanded.
He snatched the wad of money out of her hand and counted it to make sure it was all there. “Hopefully, next time, I’ll find someone who knows how to hold up their end of a bargain, he sneered and turned his chair away to dismiss her.
Della exited the bank and stepped out into the breeze that glided through the streets of downtown. It was still cool and the fresh air invigorated Della to the point that she felt like skipping. She was free from the clutches of Milton Tidwell forever now.
As Della headed to the General Store, her relief suddenly turned to apprehension when she realized that she had completely upended her plans in favor of taking a huge risk. Now, she was in charge rather than leaving her future up to fate. It was a life-changing decision and one that was foreign to her. Then, she thought of Chevonne and how she had admonished Della for saying, “What if…?” one too many times. “Della Owens,” Chevonne had said, “If I hear those words come out of your mouth one more time, I swear I’ll never speak to you again.” Now, those words oddly gave her new strength.
She also thought of Carl Walton, the wise and wonderful older man on the train who had told her, “Welcome this moment, dear Della. Don’t allow the decisions of those from your past determine how you view opportunities for your future.”
These were strong people whom she admired and who obviously had seen something in her that she hadn’t seen—until now. She would take the risk of embarking on the unknown and take it gladly if it meant she would never have to marry Milton Tidwell and that she could be loved by a man like Hank Hensley.
Chapter 14
Hank put on his Stetson and stepped out into the hot Texas sun. Although it was spring, the heat on that day made it feel more like the middle of summer. The rain hadn’t come down in weeks—not since before he and the others left on their bounty hunt—and the streets were dry and dusty.
He had healed up fairly nicely since his return, but Hank hadn’t had time to see much of Della, other than in passing, and the two
hadn’t spoken of their conversation back at the triage area that night. Being gone for a couple of weeks meant he was busy trying to catch up with all of his projects, but today he planned to set all that aside and make time for the only woman he’d ever seen a future with.
“Roy…Della,” Hank said as he greeted them when he walked into the General Store.
“Hank!’ Roy said. “Where you been hiding yourself all this time? Why I almost thought we were going to have to send out a posse.”
Della stood behind the counter stealing glances like a shy child burying herself in her ma’s skirt when a stranger tried talking to her.
“Just healing up,” Hank said. “Wondering if you’d mind if I stole Miss Owens today for an important errand?”
Della’s eyes widened with interest. She approached the two men wearing the bright yellow dress made from the fabric Hank had picked out for her. “Errand?” she asked. “What errand?” Hank thought he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. She stood there like a daisy, wisps of golden hair escaping in curls from the ribbon that tied behind the nape of her neck. He wondered if she thought of him when she wore the dresses he’d had made for her.
“Well, hello, Della,” Hank said with a grin.
“Hello, Hank,” she replied, bowing her head slightly as she tried to hide her smile.
“I need to go pay my respects to Ethel,” Hank explained. “I thought it might be nice to have a woman’s touch to be there during this difficult time.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” Roy said, smiling at the pair as he unpacked the latest shipment of supplies.
“Well grab your bonnet,” Hank said. “We need to stop by the bank first to pick up the bounty money we’re all donating to her.”
Della stopped suddenly, looking like a frightened animal. “I…I think I’ll just wait here while you go to the bank,” she said.
“That sun of a gun darn near scared her to death last time she was there,” Roy said.
“Roy!” Della scolded, obviously not wanting Hank to know anything about the incident.
“Tell me what he did,” Hank ordered, a scowl now replacing his smile. “Tell me right now or I’ll go down there and shake it out of him myself.”
“He…he was just impatient with me is all,” Della lied.
“Made her pay him back for the train ticket and the dress he bought when she called off the engagement,” Roy said in a disgusted tone of voice.
“Broken engagement?” Hank asked, his eyes widening as he turned to Della. She allowed a grin to escape as she lowered her head in agreement.
Hank turned and marched out the door, turning right onto Main Street headed toward the bank on foot. “Hank!” Della hollered as she hurried to keep up with him. “Hank, please don’t make a scene.”
Hank kept walking, anger boiling up inside him like the heat that was rising off the dry mud streets baking in the hot Texas sun. As he approached the bank, Hank slowed down and turned to Della, who was struggling to match his pace and trying to talk him out of whatever he was thinking of doing to Milton. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Do I trust you?” she asked. “What kind of question is that?” Della’s eyes searched Hank’s face as he stood still waiting for an answer. “Yes. Yes, I trust you.”
Hank opened the door and motioned for Della to enter before him. He walked inside and headed straight to the teller’s window, confident that as usual, Milton would scurry over to him and ask what he could do for Hank. Just like clockwork, Milton’s office door opened and Hank watched as he bypassed other customers and went straight to him. Hank stood in front of Della, blocking Milton’s view.
“Mr. Hensley,” Milton said, “What a pleasure to see you.” Milton’s honeyed voice made Hank cringe. “How can I help you today?”
“About how much money do you suppose I have in the bank, Milton?” Hank asked.
“Oh dear, too much for me to know offhand,” Milton replied as he waved his hands in the air.
“An outrageous amount?” Hank asked.
“Oh yes, sir,” Milton said with a smarmy smile. “Quite outrageous.”
“Milton,” Hank said. “I’m going to go wait with Miss Owens here in your office and I want you to bring me every cent I own. Drop it all right on your desk.”
A look of horror washed over Milton’s face. “Every cent, sir?” he asked, his voice trembling as his face turned pale.
“Every cent,” said Hank as he turned and escorted Della into Milton’s office.
“What are you doing?” Della asked, with a look of panic and discomfort.
“Just teaching him a lesson, don’t worry,” Hank said, winking at her.
Hank watched out the glass as Milton and the others scurried around placing money into large bags. Milton waved his hand to have the others follow him into his office, wiping his brow as he walked. They opened the door and each worker set down a bag on the desk and turned to leave the office, with only Milton remaining.
“This is all of it, sir,” Milton said. “I hope that you…”
“Milton?” Hank interrupted. “Would you say it helps you out—me keeping my money here at your bank, instead of heading to Texas Sun like most of the other businessmen here in Fort Worth?”
“Oh, yes sir, it does,” Milton squirmed as beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “Why, you’re our best customer. We’ve always endeavored to…”
“It’s good to help people out, isn’t it, Milton?” Hank interrupted once again.
“It sure is,” Milton said. “Sir? May I ask why you wanted me to bring all of your funds to you?”
“Well, I’ve hired Della here to be my financial advisor,” Hank fibbed. “I just wanted her to see how much money she’s dealing with so she can make the decision as to where I’ll be banking from now on. You understand, don’t you, Milton? Nothing against you and your bank—strictly business.”
Milton’s beet-red face contorted into a shape that mimicked a grotesque, deformed gourd as he attempted a smile in Della’s direction. “Oh, yes sir,” Milton struggled to say. “I understand completely.”
Hank stood and offered a hand to Della as she rose from her chair beside him. “You can put it all back now,” Hank said. “All but $1,250—the bounty for the five outlaws that we’re all donating to Ethel Samson. And I believe you wanted to add something to the pot, didn’t you, Milton?”
“Oh yes, sir,” Milton agreed, his face turning even redder than before. He pulled out a folded wad of money and handed Hank a few dollars. Hank looked at him, his hand still out, waiting for more. Reluctantly, Minton peeled off several more bills and handed them over to Hank.
“Della will be making her final decision about my finances and she’ll let you know next week if a transfer is in order,” Hank said.
“Very well, sir,” Milton said, the color drained from his face completely. “Allow me.” Milton opened the door for Della, showing more respect and manners than he’d ever shown to her when she was going to marry him. Della smiled, obviously relishing the moment.
Della and Hank exited the bank about to burst at the seams in a giggling fit. “Did you see his face?” Della laughed, her arm holding onto Hank’s as they walked back up Main Street toward the General Store.
“I don’t think we have to worry about him acting up anymore,” Hank smiled, holding his arm up to escort Della, even though a searing pain shot through it from his injured shoulder.
They entered the General Store before heading out to Ethel’s to pay their respects. “Roy, you should have seen it,” Della said, a huge smile permanently fixed to her face. “Milton was shaking in his shoes.”
“Is that right?” Roy said, laughing along with them. “Oh! Mabel stopped by a minute ago and said she’d appreciate it if you’d take this supper she fixed up out to Ethel.” He handed Della a picnic hamper covered with a kitchen cloth.
Della peeled back the cover to see what was inside. She could already smell the scent of Mabel’s wonde
rful fried chicken wafting up. But there was also fresh baked bread, a jar of blackberry preserves, and some fried peach pies. “Sure smells good!” Della said.
“Ready to head out?” Hank asked.
“Ready,” Della smiled. Hank opened the door and held it open for Della. They walked across the street to where Hank’s carriage was tethered and helped her inside. “Sure is hot today!”
“You haven’t been here during the summer yet,” Hank grinned. “This is like winter to most Texans.” He picked up the reins and pulled the horses around to head in the direction of Ethel’s house.
“What’s going on up there?” Della asked, pointing up the road a ways. A large crowd had gathered around the calaboose and were shouting and carrying on. Fists were flying in the air in unison as the chants rose up from the crowd.
“We want action!” they demanded. The town’s newest marshal, a young man by the name of Thomas, could hardly quell the crowd and looked more frightened than in control.
“What in the world’s going on here?” Hank asked under his breath. “Excuse me, Della. I’ve got to go see what this is all about.” Hank handed Della the reins and jumped down off the carriage, hurrying into the middle of the crowd. He walked over to where Thomas was being confronted and stood in front of him.
“Now what’s all the commotion here?” Hank demanded to know. Everyone in the crowd started yelling at once, so Hank stepped up onto one of the stone steps that led up to the calaboose so he could get the crowd’s attention. “One at a time! One at a time!”
“We’re tired of waiting for this calaboose to be rebuilt!” one man hollered from the back. Cheers went up in agreement as Hank waited for the noise to settle.
“We can smell it all the way up past Calhoun Street!” another man yelled from the side.