He wasn’t feeling nearly so festive tonight.
Daniel pushed through the door, grateful for the warmth inside the rough building. He brushed snow from his clothing before he went in any farther.
The room was partially lit, but some of the booths lining the wall were in shadow. The bar nearly split the room from left to right, and Daniel’s gaze followed the bar and then the booths.
Sure enough, they were seated at the last booth. The three Hansen brothers were inseparable from each other and from James Evans because none of them had to work, so they had plenty of time and money to get into trouble. Together with James, they spent more money on drink than most men spent on supporting their families.
Shaking his head in disgust, Daniel headed over. When he stood at the end of the booth, the three looked up at him.
Stewart Hansen put his arm around the back of the booth next to him in a movement of casual nonchalance. “What’s up, Lund?”
“I’m looking for James.”
“Won’t find him here.” Stewart looked at his brothers. “Right, boys?”
The other two nodded, Mitchell lifting a mug of beer to his lips and Samuel shrugging.
Daniel smiled as though he actually liked the spineless buffoons. “Where is he, then?”
They exchanged glances, then laughed.
Stewart cleared his throat, sat up straighter, and said, “Join us for a round, and we’ll tell you what we know. If you can convince us why we should tell you.”
“Yeah,” said Mitchell. “Why do you need to find him?”
“I’ve come to collect him for his wedding.”
“Did she arrive on the train?” Samuel asked, his voice low.
Daniel nodded. “And he was not there to meet her, as a good husband-to-be ought.”
They sat, sullenly silent, until he sighed deeply, again shaking his head, and dropped onto the bench beside Stewart. Turning, he called out, “A round of beers here, Conway. On me.”
The three idiots smiled, and Stewart said, “That’s more like it.”
Daniel forced himself to relax. “So where is he?”
“After the drinks arrive and you’ve paid for them,” Stewart said. “Then we’ll trade you for the information.”
So Daniel waited the long moments, trying to still himself, until the drinks arrived.
Maybe five minutes later, Conway sent a tray over with a pretty young lady, who set down the drinks and winked at Daniel, making him uncomfortable.
After she finally left, he looked at the men, who immediately lifted their mugs to their lips. Daniel pushed his drink to the side and counted silently to one hundred before inquiring again, “Where. Is. He?”
The three looked up, as if remembering he was still there. Samuel wiped foam from his upper lip with his sleeve. “He’s gone traveling.”
“When will he be back?”
“He won’t.” Samuel shrugged again. “He’s gone.”
“But what about his bride?”
Mitchell leaned forward.” I think ‘tis his wife he’s running from.” His Scottish brogue grew worse as he imbibed.
Stewart nodded. “He decided he wasn’t ready for the commitment required of a husband, realized perhaps he’d been a mite hasty in sending for a bride.”
“He what?” Daniel wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly, and his voice came out more of a snarl than he’d planned. He stared at Stewart.
The younger man blanched and put up his hand. “We tried to talk him out of it. Don’t blame us. This was his own idea.”
“He’s an idiot.” Daniel ran his hand through his hair, wondering how he was possibly going to tell that sweet, young thing that the man who had promised her undying love—had run away. From her.
“I’m going to kill him,” Daniel growled.
“I’ll help you,” said Mitchell. “He took my best mare.”
Daniel wanted to punch something. Someone.
But these ne’er-do-wells weren’t worth getting tossed in jail overnight.
Standing, he said, “If you get any news of his whereabouts, you let me know.”
“Sure,” they assured him, but he knew they wouldn’t. Shaking his head, he turned and strode out before he allowed himself the pleasure of punching one of them. Maybe all three of them.
How could he tell her?
Although he could certainly console her that there were better men than James in town. Real men, not pampered boys playing at manhood.
Outside, the snow had stopped and intense green northern lights played across the sky in the break in the clouds. Daniel patted his horses and climbed onto the wagon. He’d have to stable them for the night and give them a thorough rub down, but his first priority had to be informing Miss Keating that her groom was gone.
He’d heard of men getting the mitten—he, himself, had had his fiancée leave town when he was twenty-three—but he’d never heard of a woman being jilted.
There were many men here in town who would be glad to woo and win a beautiful young girl like Violet.
As he turned the horses off Main Street toward Amelia’s house, he realized there might be a way he could help her, after all.
He could help her find a new husband. He would help her.
And, with that decision made, he headed back to tell her the very bad news—and the better news that he could find her a better husband than the one she’d come here to marry.
I’m not sure why I trust Daniel Lund when I have known him such a short time, but I do. I trust both Daniel and his sister Amelia.
(Journal Entry, Violet Keating, October 15, 1890)
The door opened and Violet turned to see the big handsome man walk in. Amelia’s brother. Daniel Lund. The man she’d been so thrilled to think was her future husband.
She looked behind him for her actual groom, but James wasn’t there. Perhaps he was still taking care of his horse...?
But when Daniel closed the door behind him, her heart shut down a little.
When he took a deep breath and raised his eyes to hers, she was struck by his beautiful blue-green eyes—that were, at this moment, filled with what looked like blazing anger.
At her? Her heart caught and she put a hand to her chest.
Amelia glanced at Violet and took a step toward Daniel, putting herself between them. She touched his hand. “What did you learn?”
Amelia wasn’t tall enough to actually block her view of Daniel, and their gazes remained locked.
Amelia tugged on her brother’s sleeve more impatiently and repeated, “What did you learn, Daniel? Don’t keep us in suspense. Don’t keep Violet in suspense.”
He drew in a deep breath and nodded. “James wasn’t at his parents’ home, nor at the church nor the pastor’s home. He wasn’t even at Jack Doyle’s saloon, though his questionable friends were.”
And then he went silent again.
She crossed her arms as a shield, trying to prepare for the bad news she sensed coming her way. A feeling of dread settled over her, and she asked, her voice quiet and a little shaky, “Has he been injured?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Does no one know where he has gone?”
“Yes. His friends do.” But he didn’t continue.
It was the opposite of taking candy from a child—more like taking money from the bank when it didn’t belong to you.
And still he looked into her eyes. Her heart pounded, and it wasn’t just with dread.
“His friends know,” Daniel repeated and he drew in another breath. “James Evans has left Minot.”
Amelia gasped. “Today? But his bride just arrived.”
“I think that was the point,” Daniel said. He took a step closer to Violet. “I am sorry to give you this bad news, Miss Keating.”
Her face flushing warm, Violet raised her chin a little and softly asked, “Did they say when he would return?”
“It’s an indefinite time period.”
“In other words, he ran away from me.” V
iolet laughed shakily. “I did not think I was so frightening as that.”
“You’re not frightening at all!” Daniel said. “You’re quiet and sweet and pretty and he’s a fool.”
Horrified, heart racing at the thought of being trapped in Minot with no husband, no money, and no job, Violet said, “So I am homeless.”
Amelia shook her head. “You will not be homeless. You are welcome to stay in our home as long as you need to.”
That generosity brought sparkling tears to Violet’s eyes. “Thank you, Amelia. And I, a total stranger.”
“No. You, my newest friend.” Amelia flashed her a smile.
Violet smiled back. “And you, mine. I am in need of a good friend, as I left all mine behind.” Or, more to the point, they left her behind. She hoped they were having better luck with their new husbands than she was.
Daniel, looking awkward, said, “I have come up with a possible alternate plan.”
The two women exchanged glances, and Amelia said, “Please do share it with us.”
He looked at Violet again. “You came to Minot to find a husband, correct?”
Suddenly, her heart was racing. Was he going to offer himself up for her? At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to have this gentle giant keep her safe. The attraction they obviously both felt, his protectiveness of her—surely these pointed to a good fit between them. And the way he was looking at her now—yes, she thought he might be doing exactly that. “Yes.”
He raised a hand and motioned out the window. “There are many men in this town—and I know most of them. I can introduce you. And, with your beauty and sweetness of spirit, I would think we can have you married off happily by spring.”
“What a wonderful idea.” Amelia beamed. “There are many men here waiting for women to move to town. I like your plan.”
Then they both looked at Violet, who shrank back. She had misjudged. Daniel didn’t want her for a wife. She was a project for him to perform. A kind deed of service. Suddenly, she felt like an unwanted parcel dependent on the mercy and charity of strangers, a most uncomfortable feeling.
Disappointed and embarrassed at being in this situation, Violet looked at her two newest friends. She had no home to return to. She hadn’t since her parents died.
She had no other options so, finally, she said. “I agree with your plan and thank you for your generosity in helping me in my time of need.”
Daniel smiled gently at her, and her breath caught as he announced, “We’ll start tomorrow.”
I can’t sleep.
(Journal Entry, Violet Keating, October 15, 1890)
That night, Violet lay in the bed Amelia had kindly set up for her in the living area on the sofa. She didn’t know what time it was, only that it seemed like she’d been awake for hours.
She’d never been so scared in her life—except when she was around Daniel, her fears were calmed, as if by magic. He even made her believe he would make this all right for her. That he would—singlehandedly, if necessary—find her a husband.
She couldn’t help smiling at the thought.
James Evans was a runner—and Daniel Lund was a protector.
If she couldn’t marry the man who had run, nor the man who she felt the incredible attraction to, she supposed she trusted Daniel enough to help her find a new husband who would treat her well.
And, finally, a long time later, her eyelids closed and she slipped into a restless slumber.
Opal was beautiful, but she was nothing compared to Violet. While Opal’s beauty was showy and flashy and always meant to impress, Violet is lovely with an innocence that Opal lacked, though I didn’t know it at the time. Perhaps Violet wouldn’t choose to break a man’s heart as Opal found so easy to do. At least I wish I could believe that she wouldn’t. I don’t dare find out, but I already know that if she marries one of the Minot men, I will find it difficult to see her as another man’s wife. What a ridiculous feeling to have after having known her less than a day. I am, therefore, ridiculous.
(Journal Entry, Daniel Lund, October 16, 1890)
THE NEXT MORNING, AMELIA SET a plate of pancakes before Daniel, hot enough to melt both the butter and syrup pooling and running over the sides. His mouth watered. “Thanks, Sis.”
“You’re welcome.” She flashed a smile at him and turned back to the stove, where she poured and tended the next pan full of cakes.
While he ate, he was acutely aware that Violet was in Amelia’s bedroom, making herself presentable for the introductions to other men which would begin today. Finding her a husband was a good plan, even if he wasn’t looking forward to the task. He was going to apply himself in implementing the plan of finding her a new husband, and the sooner the better.
“These are great, Sis,” Daniel said around a mouthful. “You’ll make some man a great wife someday.”
“Be sure to tell Sven that.”
“And have him pound in my face? I don’t think so.”
“He’ll be flattered.”
“Right.”
The door to the bedroom opened, and out walked Violet—and he swallowed a larger bite than he’d planned and coughed, taking a sip of water.
She looked like an enchanting fairy maiden, her molten golden-red curls twisted up neatly around her head with her pale blue dress flattering her shapely form.
He gulped. He was going to have to fight the men off with a stick!
Violet looked at him tentatively. “Will this do for our purposes?”
Amelia tinkled a laugh.
Before his sister could say anything, Daniel set down his fork. “It will do nicely.”
Amelia said, “Your pancakes are nearly ready.”
Violet shook her head. “I am much too nervous to eat, if you will forgive me.”
Amelia nodded and gave the shorter woman a hug. Standing together, he could see they were nearly the same height. His sister told Violet, “Good luck.”
Then she looked at her brother and frowned. “You be sure to introduce her only to men of character, men such as you would have a true sister marry.”
A true sister? He would never be able to see Violet as a sister, not while she wore this form-fitting dress and her hair glowed and his hands wanted to—Look away, man! His voice was raspy as he said, “I will,” and he pushed back from the table. He pulled his coat off the hook and stuck his favorite hat on his head, then turned back to her.
She stood in her blue dress, holding her reticule.
“Where is your coat? You’ll need it.”
She smiled up at him. “I’ll retrieve it now.”
She turned, her dress swirling nicely around her legs, and his heart clenched. How was he going to be able to do this? And how was it that she had this sort of power over him?
He turned to find Amelia smiling at him. She crossed her arms and said, quietly, “Why do you not offer for her hand, brother? You obviously find her pleasing.”
He shook his head. “I am too old. It would be unseemly.”
Amelia crossed to him and placed her hand on his arm. “I have seen greater age differences. You are only ten years older.”
“It would be unseemly,” he repeated, and his voice roughened.
“I don’t want you to have regrets. Remember that, Brother, as you show her around town to other men.”
“I will remember.”
“She is not like Opal.”
Startled at the name no one spoke around him, he turned away, unwilling to continue this conversation.
Violet came back in, bundled up in the brown coat she’d worn at the train station. If he could just keep her outside, where men couldn’t see her form through the coat, he might be able to get through this day.
He and Sven had brushed aside yesterday’s snow from the walkway and he led Violet to his wagon, handing her up to the seat. She smiled down at him sweetly. “Thank you, Mr. Lund.”
He nodded and smiled back, his heart tapping out a faster rhythm than normal. “You’re welcome, Miss Keat
ing.”
“Will you introduce me to men at church, as well?”
“I will, but Sunday is three days away. It will be good to start today. I know which men attend church, if that is important to you.”
“It is.” She smiled again, perhaps a little mischievously. “Are you a church-going man, Mr. Lund?”
“I am.” He climbed up beside her and flicked the reins, and the two horses trotted jauntily.
The day was much warmer than yesterday and the sun shone, warming them even more. The snow had stopped during the night, and a coat of pristine white covered everything, but was melting on the roads.
Violet seemed anxious, looking out at the surroundings, and then back at her hands clenched tightly in her lap. He supposed it would be stressful to meet men and hope they would like her enough to make an offer to her—and then hope that any man who did was a man who would treat her right and one she could grow to love.
His heart hurt at that thought. She wasn’t his and could never be, but it still didn’t mean he wanted to give her up. This silly heart of his didn’t know what it wanted.
They stopped first at the town’s general store, run by Emil Schultz. It was early-to-mid morning, and men would be by to pick up packages and supplies. Several wagons were tied up outside.
He was going to make quite a stir by taking Violet inside, where she might even take off her coat. He would have to make sure they weren’t inside for long enough for her to get overwarm.
When he opened the door, he saw four men, including Emil.
Two were men he would not recommend to a lady of gentle breeding, and the proprietor was two decades older than Daniel—though he studied Violet much too closely, as did they all—and so that left one contender. Gregor Koch.
Daniel leaned down toward Violet, and whispered. “I will introduce you to all four men, but the only one who is a good enough candidate for you is the man wearing the black Stetson.”
Gregor took off his Stetson, and ran a hand through his dark hair.
She nodded and looked up into Daniel’s eyes, whispering back, “I trust your judgment.”
And that statement stabbed him in the heart. How could she trust him, when what he wanted to do had nothing to do with propriety?
Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39) Page 4