Della: Bride of Texas (American Mail-Order Bride 28)

by Trinity Ford

  When dawn broke the next morning, Della quickly got out of bed and got dressed. She left the house and went out to the carriage, waiting for Roy to join her.

  “You in some kind of hurry?” he asked, wondering why she was already outside.

  Della shook her head. “Just ready is all.”

  The ride into town was silent. Della felt so heartbroken, she could barely breathe, and she hadn’t eaten a bite of anything since yesterday morning. Her stomach just couldn’t take it and she had no appetite whatsoever. Roy respected her obvious need to have some space. When they arrived at the General Store, he allowed Della to do her chores while he waited on customers.

  “Have to make a run to the bank,” Roy said. “You okay to be here without me?”

  Della shook her head. “I’m fine,” she lied. All morning she had busied herself with stocking the shelves, sorting out produce that had gone bad, and cleaning up the store. She sat down on the stool behind the counter and stared at the window, watching people walk back and forth, attending to their daily chores.

  The bell rang when the door opened and three of the girls from the Acre walked in, laughing and talking about the previous night. As they strolled around the store picking up supplies, Della stared at them, the anger in her eyes boring a hole right through them. They walked up to the counter and set down their choices—a comb and brush, body powder and a tin of cookies.

  “You got any rouge?” one of the girls asked.

  “No!” Della said, her seething anger bursting at the seams.

  “Well I was just asking,” the girl said, looking shocked that Della was being so mean. “Here’s your money.” The girl tossed the money down onto the counter and scooped up her belongings as she followed the other two out the door.

  Roy came back through the door just as they were leaving. He could see that Della was visibly angry. “Need to talk about it?” he asked, after giving her a few minutes to calm down.

  “No,” Della said, on the verge of tears.

  “Well I don’t blame you for being angry,” Roy said as he busied himself around the store. “Feel kind of bad for giving him my blessing, too. Never thought he’d go back on his word like this.”

  “So I’m not the only one who’s a bad judge of character?” Della asked, feeling better that she wasn’t the only one duped by Hank’s charm.

  “Someone like Hank…” Roy said. “Knows how to say and do all the right things to make you feel good. But running off out of town with one of Kitty’s girls…well…that’s just downright scandalous.”

  A sharp pain shot through Della’s body and lodged deep in her heart as she absorbed the news that Hank had gone on an overnight tryst with the girl. It was bad enough that he’d been seen there, but to take off with her, too? It was almost too much for her to bear. Della was grateful for one thing, though. She’d found out early that Hank wasn’t the man she thought he was. Even though she’d given her heart to him, she hadn’t made it legal. It was little comfort, but it was all she had to hang on to.

  Chapter 20

  The ride back from east Texas was long, but Hank refused to stop. If he kept pushing through, he’d arrive back at the house in time to wash up and head over to Della’s just before she left to begin her morning at the store. He didn’t want to waste another second asking her to be his wife.

  The Double H ranch looked majestic in the moonlight as Hank rode over the hillside in the wee morning hours. Soon, it would be their home, and maybe they would have two or three children running around—a boy and two girls!

  Hank smiled as he daydreamed about his future life with Della. For months, they’d been playing a game of cat and mouse, always teasing and being playful. Hank was ready to get serious, and from what he’d seen so far, so was Della. Both of them were alone in this world. They had plenty of friends, but no close family nearby. Soon, they’d be each other’s family, and Hank was bursting with pride at the thought of being her husband.

  When he arrived back home, the staff were waiting to greet him. “Want us to set it back up, boss?” Will asked, referencing the engagement décor at the pond.

  “I sure do!” Hank said cheerfully, the exhaustion of the trip not even being capable of competing with the happiness he felt of what was coming next.

  “But first,” Hank ordered. “Get me the prettiest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on, and tell Maria to box up some of those fine European chocolates we got with a pretty little bow. I’m going to wash up and head right back out.”

  “But boss, you need to rest a spell first!” Will said.

  “Will,” Hank said with a big smile. “I couldn’t sleep a wink if I tried.” Hank whistled as he walked through the house to the wash room to get ready. As he planned his future in his mind, he saw a happy home filled with lots of laughter, kids and with God at the center of their being. His kids would have a completely different childhood than he’d had. The hot bath the staff had prepared for him gave him newfound energy and now, he chose his garments carefully. This was the most important day of his life and he wanted to look the part and impress his bride-to-be.

  He reached into the pocket inside his jacket and pulled out the satchel that held Della’s ring. Hank opened it and peered down, smiling at what he saw hidden inside—hope for a future with Della—a life filled with happiness, love, and friendship. He tucked the ring back inside his jacket and looked himself over in the mirror. Next time I see you, you’ll be a married man! Hank thought, laughing to himself about the plan he’d cooked up.

  Now that his staff was preparing the pond, all he had to do was fetch Della, stop by Beatrice’s to let her pick out a wedding gown, and convince Pastor Littlejohn to stop whatever it was he was doing and follow them to the pond to get married. It wasn’t the plan Hank originally had, but he refused to wait another second to marry her. He wanted to let her pick where they’d honeymoon. Maybe she’d want to stop off in Savannah and tell the folks first, then head off to Paris to see the sights—whatever she wanted, he would make sure it happened.

  He headed out the door with his staff excited to see him off. “Good luck, boss!” Maria shouted as he climbed up into the carriage. Hank waved as he raced the sun to arrive at Della’s house. He couldn’t help feeling like he was floating on air. The breeze was cool and crisp, dew covered the countryside, and birds twittered around looking for an early morning meal.

  Hank pulled up to Roy Jennings’ place and tethered his horse. He gently picked up the bouquet Will had arranged for him to give Della, and carried the chocolates Maria had boxed up in his other hand. Roy’s carriage was still there, so he’d made it in time before the two left for work.

  Hank climbed the steps and gave a hearty knock on the door before hiding the bouquet behind his back. He was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but he was also elated and happier than he’d ever been. Hank believed his entire life had been lived for this moment.

  Roy opened the door and stood there staring at Hank, visibly upset. Certainly not the reception he expected. “Della?” Roy hollered. “Someone’s here to see you.” He walked away from the door, leaving Hank standing on the porch, the door wide open.

  Must be having trouble with Helen again, Hank thought, feeling a pang of guilt wash over him at the way he helped drive a wedge between Roy and his wife. Hank peered inside and saw Mary sitting quietly on the settee, sewing. Della finally walked out of her room. Hank’s face lit up as he breathed a deep breath. This is it! he thought, ready to hand her the gifts and fall to one knee to propose to her. His hands were trembling—not out of fear, but out of sheer excitement.

  Della came to the door and walked out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. Her face was solemn, not happy as he expected to see. “I brought you these,” Hank said, holding the flowers and candy out simultaneously. He tried to lean in to kiss Della’s cheek, but she leaned back and turned her head away. Hank stood up straight and lowered his arms, petals from the bouquet spiraling
down toward the wooden flats of the stoop.

  “I don’t want them” Della said flatly, avoiding eye contact with Hank. Hank stood in silence and furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out why she was mad. “Why don’t you give them to your new friend—or better yet—to Kitty herself. It can be a gift to her for keeping you in supply of the ladies. After all, that is what you love most, right Hank?”

  Hank felt like he’d been knocked down by a cannonball.

  “Didn’t the sheriff…” Hank started to say, but Della wouldn’t let him ask if Sheriff Lockhart had told her where he was that night. She lit into him once again.

  “The sheriff was out defending the good town of Fort Worth, Texas from a bunch of outlaws,” Della said, anger seeping out of every pore. “The sheriff had a good excuse for where he was that night. But you…you were traipsing around who knows where with some woman, if you can call her that, making me the laughing stock of this town.” Della’s harsh demeanor crumbled into sorrow as tears spilled onto her cheeks and onto the porch. “Everyone gossiped as I stood there alone, my heart breaking. And you didn’t even have the decency to hide your behavior! Go back to where you came from, Hank Hensley. I feel so broken now. I have to somehow try to find a way to piece myself back together again.”

  Hank took the blows without showing any emotion. He was a mixture of anger that she didn’t trust him and sadness that she felt so hurt. He longed to wrap her in his arms and comfort her and explain everything, but she’d made up her mind about him. She, along with everyone else in Fort Worth, only pretended to think he could ever change. They didn’t truly believe in him. Hank set the flowers and chocolates down on the table next to the rocking chair and tipped his hat toward Della. He looked into her eyes one last time, and saw the reflection of who he was to her—nothing more than a two-bit gambler who drank too much, embarrassed himself, and went to the wrong kind of places in hell’s Half Acre.

  Hank turned abruptly and walked quickly back to his carriage, riding out of sight and back to where he belonged—back to where the town felt he should be banished—the dank and dusty bars on the side of town where nobody cared who you were or what you did.

  Stepping into the Peacock Saloon, Hank let his eyes adjust and walked over to a small table in the corner. “Not open yet,” the bartender said loudly.

  “Just bring me a whisky when you do.” Hank said.

  “Hank?” the bartender said. “That you? I haven’t seen you ‘round here in ages. Thought you fell off the face of the earth!” He poured Hank a whisky and brought it to his table. “I don’t mind serving you before we open.”

  “Appreciate it,” Hank said quietly, grabbing the shot glass and turning it around and around in his hand. The bartender walked away, obviously familiar with when his patrons needed time alone. Hank reached in his pocket and pulled out the ring he had wanted to give Della. What made you think you’d ever be god enough for her? he thought, scolding himself for getting caught up in a dream that was too good to be true. Maybe I ought to follow in Floyd’s footsteps, he thought. Sell everything off and start over somewhere else.

  But could he ever shake who he was at the core? Even after doing everything right—going to church consistently, being charitable by rescuing abused women, and courting someone properly—it seemed like no one trusted him. Maybe they were right and he was fooling himself all along. Maybe he should just accept it and live up to the reputation he’d gotten, which to this day, he felt he didn’t deserve. At least that way, people would be telling the truth about him, and Della would be applauded for her decision.

  Hank was tired—tired from his good deed trip, tired of thinking and tired of his life. He set down the shot glass, lowered his head to his folded arms and feel into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 21

  Della didn’t watch as Hank rode away. She couldn’t bear it. Instead, she went inside, grabbed her reticule with the last bit of money she’d saved up and went into town on her own. The depot was just opening, and Della stood first in line to buy a ticket.

  “Savannah, please,” Della said. “First available.”

  “We have one heading out tomorrow evening ‘round 7 o’clock,” the station clerk said.

  “Perfect,” Della said, handing over her money.

  The clerk handed Della her ticket, which she placed inside her reticule. She walked back to Main Street, looking it up and down, wondering if there was anyone she should say goodbye to. No, they’ll only try to change my mind, she thought. Della didn’t want anyone trying to interfere with her decision. Even if her heart did heal from the catastrophe with Hank, she couldn’t live in a town where everyone pitied her as a fool. She stopped by the General Store—the last time she’d be stepping foot in there—to pick up a few items for her trip.

  Roy had just arrived in town by himself and opened up shop. “You okay?” Roy asked, obviously not wanting to press her for details.

  “Mhm,” Della said, trying not to cry at the thought of how much she would miss Roy and Mary. “Just bought myself a ticket to Savannah.” She didn’t want to sneak off without a word. Wouldn’t be fair to neither he nor Mary, after treating her with such kindness.

  “I see,” Roy said solemnly. “Know how long you’ll be gone?” He likely knew the answer, but needed her to say it.

  “I won’t be back,” Della said, ashamed for a second of her decision to run. “I want you to know how grateful I am for all you’ve done for me. I’ll miss you and Mary so much. I plan to keep in touch with letters!”

  “Can’t say I blame you for leaving,” Roy said. “But I sure wish you’d reconsider.”

  Della shook her head. “It’s just not possible,” she said softly. “I leave tomorrow night. I need to get a few things for the trip.” She gathered up some snacks for the train ride, and handed Roy her money, which he pushed back toward her.

  “It’s on the house,” Roy said, winking at her.

  Della smiled and hung her head in sadness as she walked back out the door to head home. Home, she thought. Will I ever be able to set down roots for good? Della’s heart struggled with the feeling of failure once again. She dreaded the shame of having to go back to her parents to explain this shameful situation.

  When she arrived back at the Jennings’ place, Mary was rocking in the chair on the porch, reading a raised letter book. “Good book?” Della asked, sitting down on the steps of the porch to enjoy one of her last chats with Mary.

  “Oh yes!” Mary said excitedly. “I’m so glad Mr. Hensley got me these books. Opens up a whole ‘nother world for me to enjoy.” Della’s heart hurt when she heard his name and thought of the good he’d done that had tricked her into believing he’d changed.

  “I’m happy for you, Mary,” Della said. “Listen, Mary…I have to tell you something.”

  “What is it?” Mary said, a look of concern coming to the surface of her face. She closed her book and rose out of the chair to feel her way over to where Della sat, sitting down beside her on the top step.

  “I’m taking a trip to Savannah,” Della began. “It’s where my parents are.”

  “Oh how fun!” Mary said, not understanding the situation.

  “Yes,” Della said. “Well, it’s a trip that’s going to take a very long time, Mary. In fact, I’ll be staying there permanently.”

  The smile on Mary’s face melted away. “But…if you go, I’ll never see you again.”

  “I know,” Della said, her voice cracking. “I just…I can’t stay here, Mary. You’ll understand when you’re older. But hey! I will write you letters and I want to know how that sewing is coming along.” Della tried to sound happy at the end, but she knew she’d been Mary’s first real friend. She knew the girl would take it hard.

  Mary’s chin began to quiver. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around Della, squeezing her tight as she sobbed.

  “Shh,” Della said. “It’s going to be okay. And listen, if Roy wants to, you and he can come visit me in Savannah�
��would you like that?”

  Mary nodded her head as she pulled back from Della, still immersed in sadness.

  “Good!” Della said, her voice overly upbeat in an effort to make Mary feel better. “Want to come talk to me while I pack?” Mary stood, without saying a word, and followed as Della led her back into the room they shared so she could decide which items she’d take and which ones she would leave—another piece of her existence scattered across America.

  …

  Della slept later than she thought possible the next day. She had planned to wake up early and spend as much time with Mary as possible, but the emotional turmoil during the past few days had taken its toll.

  When she got out of bed, she noticed Mary wasn’t in the room—and she heard voices coming from the parlor that weren’t Roy, Mary or Helen. She hurried and dressed in the outfit she’d saved to wear back to Savannah—one of her plain, brown dresses. The others she was leaving for Mary because they only served to tear her apart when she looked at them.

  When Della opened the door, she was hit with the scent of a delicious array of food. She walked past the kitchen, where Helen was cooking at the stove, and went into the parlor to see whose voices she was hearing.

  “Well there you are, sleepyhead!” Millie said, walking over and giving Della a hug and kiss on the cheek. “We almost didn’t think we were going to get to say goodbye!”

  Della looked around the room and saw all of her friends gathered around. Millie and the sheriff, Hannah and Samuel, Annabelle and Lee, and of course, Pastor and Mabel Littlejohn. “Had to tell ‘em,” Roy admitted. “I didn’t think it was right to let you leave without a proper sendoff.”