Tempting Prudence: The Bride Train

by E. E. Burke

Her pretty brown eyes shone with confusion. “What’s wrong?”

  “We got to talk…”

  “Right now?” Her gaze moved down his chest and lower to where his John Henry stood at attention. At the questioning look she gave him, he released a rough laugh.

  “Bad timing, I know…” He got up and fetched his trousers. “Might be less distracting if we get dressed.”

  As she pulled on her shift, she cast furtive glances out of the side of her eyes. He’d finished dressing before she started fastening the stays on her corset. By the time she got to the dress, he couldn’t wait any longer and took over the job of slipping the smooth white buttons into the buttonholes.

  “Thank you.” Smiling, she reached up and took his hands.

  He gathered her fingers and brought them to his lips, and the words in his heart spilled out. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  She cast her eyes downward, smiling shyly, like a young woman receiving her first compliment from a man. “I feel the same way.”

  He longed to shower her with compliments to make up for all the ones she’d missed. That would send them off on another detour. Later, there would be time, God willing. “You might not feel so charitable after I make a confession.”

  “You have something to confess?” Worry flickered through her eyes, although her gaze remained steady.

  He would rather cut out his heart than disappoint her. Yet, he couldn’t avoid it. The right way to do this, give her the truth without trying to put a shine on the apple. “There’s no telling how long my brothers might be in jail. I’m done with trying to help them, but I can’t turn my back on their families. They got wives and children that depend on what we make from selling moonshine.”

  With a thoughtful expression, she drew the hair he’d loosened over one shoulder and nimbly wove a soft-looking braid. “I was afraid that might be the case…”

  “It’s not bootlegging I’m talking about. I have to go back and run the stills. That means I can’t stay here and be a farmer and raise horses like I promised. Not now, anyway. Maybe not ever…” He flexed his hands rather than taking hold of her hair, or worse, dragging her to him and clinging to her. If he tried to hold on, knowing how she felt about how he made a living, she would eventually grow to despise him. She deserved a better life. She deserved a better man.

  “I should’ve told you earlier…instead of letting you think everything was going to be like I said. If you don’t want to stay with me, I understand.”

  The color drained from his wife’s face. Her expression froze in a look of disbelief. “What are you saying? You don’t want me to stay?”

  The hurt in her voice ripped out his heart. “Of course I do. There’s nothing I want more. But I love you, Pru. That’s why I want you to be with a man you’ll be proud of. Someone who can give you the kind of life you deserve.”

  She blinked as if what he’d said astounded her. Then she threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Arch, I love you…and I’m proud of you no matter what you have to do…and there isn’t any other life I’d rather have than one with you.”

  The rush of relief left him trembling. He caught her against him in a tight embrace. “You better be sure. Because I won’t ever let you go again.”

  “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” She reached up and cupped his cheek. Her dark eyes flashed with determination. “You told me once that if we faced the world together, nothing could stop us. I believe that, Arch.”

  Looking at his brave, beautiful wife, he believed it, too. He cupped her cheek and bent to seal their commitment.

  A bark interrupted their kiss. Rebel stuck his nose in between them, making himself a nuisance.

  Arch stopped kissing Pru long enough to acknowledge the jealous hound. “Sorry, old soldier. She likes my kisses better.”

  “He’s telling us dinner is ready.” Pru heaved a reluctant sigh. “We’d better get back.”

  Upon entering the house, a delicious smell greeted them. Arch’s stomach started growling. He went directly to the table and leaned over a pie, breathing in the heavenly smell. “Mm, vinegar pie, one of my favorites. Thanks, Ma.”

  “Don’t thank me, thank your wife. She’s the one who made it.” His ma replied, dishing stew into bowls.

  Arch kept the smile glued to his face as he looked at his wife. “Did Ma help you?”

  “Not a bit,” his mother interjected. “She done it all by herself. Wouldn’t take any instruction. Said she wanted to surprise you.”

  Pru fairly glowed with pride. “Go ahead, cut yourself a piece. I’m eager for you to taste it.”

  His stomach knotted in protest. Thinking about how bad her last meal had tasted made his throat close up. He took a knife and cut a thin slice, wouldn’t hurt her feelings, even if it killed him.

  He took a bite. Flaky, sweet, slightly tart… Delicious. Relieved and thrilled, he finished off the first slice and cut another. “You did real good, Pru.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Will you make another one?” Could be her one edible dish was vinegar pie. He could live on that.

  “I’ll make whatever you like.” She twisted her fingers together in front of her, nervous. His mother went about her business, putting dinner on the table, pretending to ignore them. His instincts kicked in and told him something odd was going on.

  “Arch, I have a confession…”

  He polished off the second piece and licked his fingers.

  “I ruined the butter and overcooked the bread and put lye soap in the beans…on purpose.”

  He should’ve known, given how clever she could be. Sometimes she was too smart for her own good. Based on her anxiousness, she thought he’d be angry. He wasn’t, but he couldn’t resist having a little fun. “You tried to poison me?”

  She turned a little pale and wrung her hands. “No, no I never intended that. You can’t believe I would knowingly do you harm.”

  He arched an eyebrow, telling her without words he thought her capable of villainous intent.

  “Perhaps I-I wanted to give you a stomachache, but nothing more.” She pleaded with her eyes. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’m a very good cook. I can fix all your favorites.”

  “All my favorites?”

  “Gladly.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. “That’ll involve more than cooking.”

  Seeing awareness flare in her eyes and the eager hunger that followed, he felt sure she’d make good on her promise.

  He’d keep his promises, too, being as stubborn as his wife, and willing to fight for what he cared about. Above all else, he cared about Pru. He couldn’t find the right words to express all the things stored up in his heart, but he had ways of communicating that were far better.

  He pulled out a chair for her. “After dinner, we’ll go for a walk and I’ll show you some of my favorites.”

  Epilogue

  On Sunday, Arch hitched up the wagon and took Pru into town to attend church. The streets of Centralia looked different on Sundays. Farmers traded their dusty denims for suits and those who were lucky enough to have wives paraded well-dressed women on their arms. Arch cast a proud look at his beaming bride.

  Pru had put on the pretty calico dress she’d worn for their wedding and had done her hair in a style he favored, with soft curls framing her face. She hadn’t taken note of his admiration because she was too busy looking at the folks on the sidewalk. “Is it me, or do you think people are staring at us?”

  She wasn’t imagining things. He’d noticed the curious stares, too.

  Five days earlier, his brothers had been taken through a speedy trial. The judged had sentenced them to a month of hard labor and put them to work building a nice boarding house for single young ladies brought in by the railroad.

  Poetic justice, Pru had called it. Arch dubbed it a lucky break. His Ma insisted she could handle things for a month without his help, which meant he and Pru wouldn’t have to g
ive up their home or their dreams. But their troubles were far from over.

  He winked at his wife. “They’re looking at you and wishing they were me.”

  “Oh pshaw. If they’re admiring anything, it’s Sophie.”

  “She is a pretty horse. But she doesn’t have a fancy straw hat.”

  Pru reached up and stroked one of the feathers. “It’s a silly thing…useless, really. Doesn’t provide more than a speck of shade.”

  “But it looks so nice perched on your head like that. Those are jealous looks you’re getting from the other women.”

  A rosy stain appeared beneath his bride’s cheekbones. “I very much doubt it, but I’m glad you’re proud to be seen with me.”

  “I’d bust my buttons if I was any prouder.” He loved lavishing praise on her, as much as he loved the way her skin glowed when he piled on the compliments.

  Arch guided Sophie to an open spot at a hitching rail outside O’Shea’s opera house. Like most businesses, it was closed on Sundays. Mr. O’Shea let the place be used for worship services, as the town didn’t yet have a church building.

  The crowd gathered on the sidewalk included Centralia’s most influential citizens, some of whom had made it clear that he didn’t belong here on Sunday, even though he was welcome in the place the other six days of the week.

  Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to bring Pru to town so soon after the trial.

  She had borne the brunt of the cruel gossip surrounding the case, and being associated with a godless bootlegger had stained her good name. He didn’t care what folks thought about him, but he wanted everyone who doubted her morality to see that they were wrong about her. She deserved their respect and he would defend his wife’s honor to the last breath.

  He tugged at the knot on his tie. Pru had gushed about how nice he looked, and he suspected she knew he’d put on the formal suit that had belonged to his father in order to make a good impression for her sake. Even though dressing up like a gentleman wouldn’t fool anybody into thinking he was one.

  “Shall we go in?” she asked.

  Earlier, she’d jumped at the chance to come to church. He didn’t want her to think his reluctance had anything to do with her.

  “It’s been awhile since I darkened the door of a church.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about. That’s an opera house, not a church.”

  “True enough.”

  She squared her shoulders. “We have to do this, Arch. If we stay away like we’re hiding, that will feed the malicious gossip about what happened.”

  He didn’t hesitate another moment and hopped down. Her courage fortified his determination. He’d make these folks respect her, even if he had to force them to their knees. One good thing about having a mean reputation, it inspired fear. He hadn’t worn the long knife he usually carried, but he didn’t need a weapon to appear intimidating.

  * * *

  Prudence gripped her husband’s arm. Not too tight, or he would pick up on her fear and take her home. He’d made this trip for her, knowing how much she wanted to reconnect with her friends. What he didn’t know was that she wanted this for his sake even more than hers.

  Thinking back, she realized she hadn’t seen him around town because he remained on the fringes of society. That’s where he thought he ought to be, and no one had ever told him different. He deserved better, and she would see to it that he was given the chance to become a respected member of the community. Even a leader, if that’s what he wanted. His outgoing, friendly personality would draw people to him, once they got to know him.

  Inside the opera house, the tables had been moved to one side. Chairs were arranged in rows in front of the stage where a podium had been set up. Heavy velvet curtains, a new addition, were drawn back from the windows and light flooded the room. The door had been propped open to let in more light and any breeze that might be found.

  She halted at the back of the room. All but one or two single seats appeared to be occupied. A few people glanced over their shoulders and then turned around, pointedly ignoring them.

  Prudence searched the crowd. Where were her friends? She’d anticipated seeing at least a few friendly faces.

  Reverend Stillwater stepped up to the podium. He scanned the crowd, not really noticing them, and then looked down and appeared to be thumbing through his Bible, almost like he was nervous. He had arrived in town around the same time as the first trainload of brides. Being the only preacher, he’d been called on to perform marriages and recently had started the church. His skin looked darker inside the unlit room, shadows emphasizing sharp planes on a face that reminded her more of a devil than a saint.

  Would he condemn them for daring to show up and loudly proclaim their need for repentance? That’s what her father would’ve done. As much as she’d loved him and admired his strength of character, she knew in her heart he had been wrong to be so judgmental.

  Arch leaned down and whispered. “Better pick a seat. The preacher’s about to get started.”

  “Where? There aren’t any together. No one’s making room.”

  A woman in the front row wearing a frilly bonnet turned to look at them. Her eyes widened in surprise then filled with delight.

  Hope Waverly. Thank heavens.

  Her friend waved to them.

  “She wants us to come up there,” Arch pointed out.

  The aisle between the chairs stretched out like a shadowy path through a dark forest. Prudence’s heart quivered with an equal mixture of relief and dread. Arch placed his warm palm over the back of her hand and tucked her fingers more securely into the crook of his elbow.

  A fearsome frown marred her husband’s features. Good heavens. What had come over him? He’d been wearing a devastating smile before they entered the building.

  Alarm flashed on the faces of curious onlookers. Women clung to their husbands’ arms and gathered their children close.

  “You look like an angry bear,” Prudence whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Try not to scare them.”

  At last, they reached the front row.

  Prudence’s spirits plummeted. Beside Hope sat a squirming boy, Danny Braddock, and next to him, his mother Susannah. Mr. Hardt, the railroad agent, had his ankle crossed over his knee and his hat held loosely in his lap, seemingly oblivious to the woman sitting next to him. Susannah hugged a floral shawl like she was trying to keep out the cold. The temperature of the air felt like a hundred degrees.

  One chair remained empty.

  Susannah looked up. The tight strain on her face melted into profound relief. She turned to the man next to her and motioned with her hands, looked like she was shooing him.

  No words were spoken, at least none Prudence could hear, but Mr. Hardt quickly vacated his seat. He gestured for her and Arch to take the two chairs, and then moved several rows back, finding a seat beside a grizzled settler, who eyed him with blatant disdain.

  Prudence sat beside Susannah, stifling a laugh. Arch settled in next to her. His frown had vanished and a half smile tilted one side of his mouth.

  She leaned toward her friend. “Thank you!”

  “Thank you. I feared I would be forced to endure Mr. Hardt’s presence throughout the entire service,” Susannah said under her breath. She dropped her shawl over the back of the chair, apparently no longer feeling the need for warmth.

  Prudence resisted the temptation to look behind her. “Don’t you think it’s odd that Mr. Hardt chose to sit next to you, knowing how you feel about him?” she whispered.

  Susannah rolled her eyes. “He does it to torment me.”

  Somehow, it didn’t fit that a man like Hardt, who had his hands full managing the railroad’s business, would waste time taunting a woman. Unless… “Maybe he likes you.”

  “What a dreadful thought.” The blush that stained Susannah’s cheeks belied the claim that she found Mr. Hardt’s attention dreadful. Possibly, quite the opposite.

  Prudence kept her suspicions to herself. It
seemed unlikely those two would work through their differences, considering they were equally intransigent. Then again, no one would’ve expected a Daughter of Temperance to fall in love with the local bootlegger…her least of all.

  “Good morning everyone!” The preacher’s greeting grabbed her attention. He looked directly at her with those piercing black eyes, and her skin prickled in response.

  Oh no…

  “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Childers,” he said in a low voice, but loud enough for the others to hear. “It gladdens my heart to see you here. I’m sure everyone else feels the same way.”

  Her breath came out on a rush. God bless Reverend Stillwater. He had publicly accepted them, thus setting an example for others to follow.

  He redirected his attention to the congregation. “Who would like to lead us in a hymn?”

  Tomblike silence filled the room.

  Prudence couldn’t bear to look around and be wounded by the censure in people’s eyes. She shouldn’t have tried to force her way back into polite society, dragging Arch along to be humiliated, as well; and she’d made things worse for the preacher, who had been kind to them. She reached for Arch’s hand. They would leave rather than bring trouble to this congregation.

  Hope leapt to her feet. “I will, Reverend. I’ll lead the singing.”

  A gasp of surprise came from Susannah. Prudence gaped in disbelief. They both knew that Hope suffered from painful shyness. She could be friendly and chatty among close friends, but she rarely spoke up in a group, much less in front of a crowd.

  Hope didn’t look around. Rather, she kept her eyes trained forward, seemingly fastened on the surprised gaze of the preacher. Her voice started soft, wavering, and then rose in volume and strength. The familiar hymn she chose fit perfectly with Reverend Stillwater’s charitable remarks.

  “Blest be the tie that binds

  Our hearts in Christian love!

  The fellowship of kindred minds

  Is like to that above…”

  Astonished, Prudence turned to meet Arch’s eyes. He threaded their fingers together. They stood and joined in, singing. Her husband’s rich, resonant baritone made a perfect accompaniment to Hope’s pure soprano. Prudence pitched her voice to blend with the others and sang from the depths of her heart.