Mail-Order Brides of the West: Trudy (A Montana Sky Series Novel)

by Debra Holland

  An ache settled into her middle. Trudy pressed a hand to her stomach. Her head pounded. Reverend Norton, a man I’d respected, had conspired with my husband to mislead me. “You’re not the man I thought you were.”

  Seth said some more things, trying to explain—something about Lucy Belle being upset and throwing herself at him.

  His words buzzed in her ears like an angry bee. All she could think of was that her husband—the man she loved—loved someone else, and that the only reason she was here in Sweetwater Springs, was because of a bet between Seth and his drinking cronies. Not because he’d really been lonely and was looking for a wife. Everything I’ve based my marriage on is a lie.

  She wanted to leap out of the wagon, gather up her skirts, and run like a deer, as far away from Seth, from Sweetwater Springs as she could get. The rest of the way home, she didn’t say a word. And the longer she sat in silence, the more Seth talked, and the less she listened. The words bounced off the invisible wall she’d erected between them to protect herself—to shield her feelings. But even cut off from him, barely listening as her husband spoke, she heard nothing about him loving her. That she would have paid attention to, allowed those words into her heart.

  They reached the house, and instead of admiring her handiwork, the flowers blooming in the yard, the fresh paint on the dwelling, the patch of sod with the rock border, she realized this place was no longer her home. Her chest tightened until she could barely catch a breath. With his revelations, Seth had shattered her serenity, her trust, and her joy.

  I have to get out of here.

  Without waiting to be helped, Trudy climbed down from the wagon and stormed across the yard. She ignored Henry, who’d shambled over to greet her, and hurried into the house.

  In the bedroom, she opened her trunk and began to pack, uncaring of the creases she put into her carefully ironed clothes by tossing them in any which way. She scooped an armful of her undergarments from a drawer and threw them on top of the clothes. She tucked some shoes into the corners, rolled her jewelry box into a pillowcase and set the bundle inside the carpetbag.

  She pulled the five hundred and fifty dollars from underneath her mattress, opened her reticule, and stuffed the bills inside. My father was right that I’d need money to return. She had more than enough to return home. Under her pain, anger ignited. Seth could keep the rest of the money they hadn’t spent. She didn’t care.

  With a jerk, Trudy grabbed her carpetbag and tossed in her comb, brush, and mirror, clean undergarments, her shawl, and a few other items she’d need with her on the journey. She made a mental note to add some food from the kitchen.

  In the other room, she heard the door open and the click of Seth’s boots on the floor.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him appear in the doorway.

  “Trudy, what are you doing?”

  “I’m going home…to St. Louis.” She forced out the words through a tight throat.

  “You most certainly are not!”

  She acted as if he hadn’t said anything. “I’ll send for the rest of my possessions.”

  “You’re my wife, and you’re staying here where you belong,” he commanded.

  “Oh.” She shot him a disgusted glance. “Are you going to hold me prisoner?”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculous, am I.” Angry, she opened a drawer, scooped out the neatly folded aprons, and tossed them in the trunk.

  “Please, Trudy, stay. Give me a chance. Give our marriage a chance.”

  With all her heart, Trudy longed to respond, to do as he said and give him another opportunity. But her heart was already in pieces, the pain enveloping her whole body. How could she risk trying again and most likely be betrayed one more time? How could she live in this town, where she’d run into Lucy Belle and know Seth loved the woman? I can’t do it. I just can’t.

  All Trudy knew was she had to get away from Sweetwater Springs—from Seth. Once in St. Louis, she could think about what she wanted to do. But she couldn’t speak through the lump of pain in her throat and just shook her head. Then she stopped, tugged off her wedding ring, and handed it to Seth.

  He stared at her for a long, sad moment, while her out-stretched arm grew heavy. But when she didn’t relent, he took the ring and slipped it into his pocket. Seth’s face closed up, tightening to stone. He turned and walked away.

  As the sound of his boot heels faded, Trudy had to fight to keep from bursting into tears.

  * * *

  All through the silent return to town, Seth’s thoughts whirled like a tornado, but they couldn’t settle into words of persuasion that would make her stay. He’d already given talking a try, and that hadn’t worked. So he said nothing as he bought Trudy a ticket to St. Louis and loaded her trunk on the baggage car. He did lean over and brush his lips on her soft cheek, inhaling one last breath of her, needing the scent to remember her by. “Good-bye, Mrs. Flanigan.” He put every bit of tenderness inside him into those words.

  Tears welled up in Trudy’s eyes. She turned and fled up the steps into the train.

  The sight left him feeling lower than the soles of his boots. Still reeling from Trudy’s departure, Seth took himself in the familiar direction of Hardy’s Saloon. He walked inside, ignoring the regulars and a couple of cowhands he didn’t know who sat at the tables, playing poker.

  Instead, Seth leaned against the bar and signaled for a drink.

  Hardy put down the rag he’d been using to dry some glasses and poured out a shot of whiskey and slid it along the polished bar.

  With a wry twist of his mouth, Seth raised the glass to drink, catching the sharp whiff of alcohol, eager to feel the burn of the liquor down his throat and the warmth when it hit his belly. But before he took a sip, his mind caught up to his action. Dismayed, he set down the glass, the amber liquid untasted.

  Hardy, drying glasses with a rag, eyed him, but didn’t speak, waiting for Seth to talk.

  All Seth kept seeing was the hurt expression on Trudy’s face, her plucky spirit drooping before his eyes, and the paleness of her cheeks. The fact that he’d hurt her enough to drive her away made his heart ache.

  Lucy Belle came in from the kitchen, met his gaze, and hesitated. Then she moved over to him, her hips free of the sexy swing that had always turned an ordinary walk into a sashay. She put her hand on his arm.

  Her fingers might as well have been sticks for all the response he had to her touch. The gesture, which would have been so welcome a month ago, now felt strange and unwelcome.

  “Thank you,” he mumbled, shifting away to break contact.

  “She’s left you?” The question sounded more like a comment. Her dark eyes commiserated.

  “Yah.” Seth’s shoulders slumped.

  “It don’t feel good. I know that for sure.”

  The sadness in her voice penetrated his daze. He glanced at her, saw the pain deepening the fine lines around her eyes.

  “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you, Lucy Belle.”

  “It’s amazing how fast a dream can build and crash. I wanted to be married. Live a respectable life. But my actions made everything worse. Now no decent man will want me. Or at least want me enough to marry me.”

  For a minute, the old protective instinct rose in Seth, the part of him that had wanted to save Lucy Belle, save his mother... She must have seen the softening in his eyes.

  “How about it, Seth? You and me? I know you were sweet on me before. Trudy was just a mail-order bride. And now she’s left you anyway.”

  To stall, Seth lifted the whiskey glass to his mouth. But when the sharp, sweet smell reached his nostrils, he couldn’t take a drink. He remembered his promise to Reverend Norton that he’d avoid the saloon, his vow before God that he’d love and cherish Trudy.

  From down the street, he heard the mournful sound of the train, signaling for everyone to board. Trudy had probably already found her seat. Was she crying? Dry-eyed? In a few minutes, the train woul
d pull away from the station, taking his wife…his beloved, away from him.

  What have I done! He thunked down the glass, splashing the liquor onto the bar, and pushed off from the counter. “I love Trudy,” he told Lucy Belle. “I love my wife. And I’m going after her.”

  Seth hurried out of the saloon, determined to yank Saint’s reins off the hitching post and gallop after her. Then he realized he had the team hitched to the wagon. There wasn’t time to unhitch them. No bridle and saddle, even if he did.

  A rider converged on the saloon. Frank McCurdy mounted on his black gelding, Rocky, sent him a smirk. “Heard your bride’s leaving town. Must be a record for the shortest marriage. What was it? Less than a month?”

  Angry, hot blood surged through his veins. With a growl, Seth threw himself at the man, grabbed his shirt, and yanked him off the horse.

  McCurdy, taken by surprise, tumbled off the black. Before he could recover, Seth drove his fist into the man’s stomach.

  McCurdy gasped and doubled over, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

  “Fight!” Men spilled out of the saloon to surround them.

  Young Nick Sanders rode by on his chestnut and reined in.

  “I’m borrowing your horse, McCurdy.” Seth threw a challenge at the men around them. “Hear that? Borrow. I’ll bring it back. My wife’s on that train, and I’m going after her.”

  Some of the men cheered and waved a hand in the air.

  Seth vaulted onto the horse’s saddle. He wheeled McCurdy’s mount around, almost running into Nick Sanders’s gelding.

  The young man glanced at the train chugging out of the station. “Come on,” he urged. “I’ll go with you, bring Rocky back when you get on board. No sense catching your wife, then being strung up for horse thieving.”

  Seth gave a decisive nod. “If I’m not back tonight, will you see to my livestock?”

  Flashing a grin, Nick nodded.

  That was all it took for Seth to kick Rocky into a gallop. Nick followed behind. The two thundered down the sedate streets of the town. With a shriek, a woman snatched up a toddler and scurried out of the way. Seth knew he’d have a lot of apologizing to do when he came back…if he came back, because he wasn’t stopping until he caught up with his wife, even if that meant riding all the way to St. Louis!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Seated on the side of the train where she could see Sweetwater Springs, Trudy stared out the window to bid farewell to the town that had come to mean so much to her. So many of her hopes and dreams had died today, and her heart ached with their loss.

  She watched a woman start into the street. She was carrying a basket on one arm and holding onto a toddler with the other. The boy trotted at her side. If I stayed, would that woman have become my friend? Would we have shared recipes and sewing patterns?

  With a jerk, the train chugged away from the station. As she watched the buildings fade out of sight, hot tears blurred the scene through the windows.

  In the distance, the mountains she loved so much flashed by, but she didn’t let herself look at them, for if she did, she’d burst out sobbing at all she was leaving behind—the home she’d worked so hard to make beautiful, the surroundings she admired, the friendships she’d started to develop, and most of all, Seth, her husband, the man she loved. The man I thought loved me.

  The ache in her heart throbbed. She pressed a hand against her chest, hoping to ease the pain. Tears burned unshed in her eyes. She didn’t dare let them fall, for she’d cry all the way to St. Louis, something any passenger walking through the empty car would see and surely abhor. One drop escaped anyway and trickled down her cheek to her chin. She opened the window to let the breeze dry her face, uncaring of the smoky smell wafting inside.

  Instead of her stomach settling down, her nausea grew, and her chest felt hollow, as if she’d left her heart at the farm. Now that Seth wasn’t beside her, she missed his presence and realized a piece of her would always be missing. But even through her pain, her mind finally started to work, to ponder the conversation with Frank McCurdy, word by word. Without the haze of shock, her rush to pack and escape, some of what Frank had stated didn’t ring true, or maybe the way he’d spoken hadn’t rung true. Reverend Norton would never engage in a scam to trick me into marrying Seth.

  The wheels picked up speed, chugging in rhythm. Panic choked her. Wait, this is wrong!

  Trudy fought down a sudden urge to pick up her skirts and run down the aisle to the exit. Seth! Seth! She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to hold in a moan of his name, trying to decide what to do. I’ve made a mistake!

  She thought back to their trip to the waterfall. Of their laughter and playfulness, of the admiration she’d seen in his eyes. He hadn’t feigned those feelings. She knew he cared.

  I’m going to fight for his love. Trudy gathered up the carpetbag, determined to get off at the next stop and go home.

  * * *

  Seth and Nick galloped side-by-side along the tracks, racing to catch the train. With a chug-chug and a roar, the train barreled down the track ahead of them. The pounding of the horses’ hooves drummed in his ears, no louder than the pounding of his heart. Slowly, Rocky pulled ahead of Nick’s chestnut.

  The back of the faded red caboose grew closer. But Seth didn’t have long at this speed before his mount would falter and collapse.

  It’s now or never. Seth kicked Rocky to a faster gallop.

  The horse responded with a burst of speed.

  Ten feet...five...three...one. Seth grabbed the rail with one hand, then he stretched up the other. He missed, swung half on, half out of the saddle, and sprang off the horse. For a second, only one hand held onto the rail, and Seth dangled, legs flying. He grabbed the rail with his other hand and managed to wrap both arms around the metal bar and throw his legs over. He toppled inside the small platform, almost falling before he caught himself and surged to his feet.

  Leaning over the rail, Seth saluted Nick. He cupped his mouth “I owe you two!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

  The young man waved in acknowledgment, then gathered Rocky’s reins and turned the horses toward Sweetwater Springs.

  Seth took a moment to catch his breath, straighten his clothes, and smooth back his hair. He’d lost his favorite hat in the mad scramble onto the caboose, but he didn’t care.

  A burst of excitement had him pulling open the heavy door. He wove through the baggage cars, his hip bumping a couple of the seats, then raced through the corridors of the passenger cars, lurching with the swing of the train. Passengers stared at him wide-eyed, some with gaping mouths.

  Likely they thought he was crazy, and perhaps he was—crazy in love. Seth entered the next car and recognized Trudy’s bonnet. She was the sole passenger, her face pressed against the window. She stared out as if trying to catch a last glimpse of the town. Hope sped him to her side. He slid into the seat next to her. “Trudy, darling.”

  Trudy gasped and jerked upright. When she spun to face him, her hand went to her chest. “Seth, you startled me! What are you doing here?”

  At the familiar gesture, he grinned. He was beside his Trudy. “Going to St. Louis with my wife.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was wrong to let you go, Trudy. I gave up too soon. You’re my wife, and I love you. I want you at my side for the rest of my life—you and no other. Please forgive me and come home. Please. If you don’t, I’m following you to St. Louis. I’m going to camp out on your doorstep until you change your mind. Don’t imagine your father and his new wife will like that.”

  Tears filled her eyes. One spilled over, trailing down her cheek.

  He tenderly wiped the wetness with his finger. “Don’t cry, my darling. Seeing you in tears wrings my heart harder than a washer.”

  She laughed and then sniffed. “Say it again.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You wring my heart out?”

  “No. The other part. I need to hear it again.”

  He took her
gloved hand and brought it to his lips. “Until I met you, Trudy, I didn’t know what love was. I thought I loved Lucy Belle, but now I know that what I felt was loneliness and infatuation. I never would have realized the difference without having a deep, real love for you.”

  She tilted her head as if trying to decide.

  “Remember me telling you my ma was a saloon girl?” Seth knew he needed to be completely honest.

  She nodded, her eyes never leaving his face.

  “When I grew old enough to understand, I hated her life…what she had to do. I dreamed of getting old enough to rescue her.”

  Trudy squeezed his hand.

  “But I didn’t have to because George Grover married her when I was ten. He was a good man—steady, older, owned the farm. We went to live with him, and finally, for the last three years of her life, my mother was happy. George became a father to me. Left me the place when he passed on.” Seth pressed his lips together to hold back the grief. He’d lost his family. Come so close to losing his wife.

  Trudy nodded, obviously thinking about what he’d said.

  He gave her a few more minutes before pressing on. “What I felt for Lucy Belle was only a shadow of what I feel for you. Probably was more about me rescuing her since I couldn’t help my ma.”

  Her blue eyes scanned his face, and she gave a short nod. “That makes sense.”

  “I’m so full of love for you, Trudy, I could run down the aisle of the train yelling the news to all the passengers.”

  She let out her breath in a half sigh, half-giggle.

  The sweet sound set his heart skipping with hope.

  Trudy leaned close, her lips only a few inches from his. “You’ve said the magic words.”

  Heedless of their surroundings, Seth pulled her to him, needing to feel her in his arms. “Then you’ll come back with me?

  Her eyes brimming with love, she cupped his cheek with her hand. “We’ll get off at the next stop and catch the next train home.”

  EPILOGUE

  To Mrs. Seymour and my friends at the Mail-Order Brides of the West Agency,