As April approached the group of men, they turned and looked at her. One whispered something to another, as another straightened out his crooked, soiled shirt and vest.
“Good afternoon gentlemen,” April said, swallowing the lump in her throat, “I was wondering if you could help me find a Mr. Miles Crawford. I’ve come from Pennsylvania to marry him, but he wasn’t at the train station… or here.”
“Miss,” one of the men replied, tipping his hat at her.
“What’s that name you said?” a hatless man asked.
“Miles Crawford,” April repeated.
The hatless man raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
“Don’t think I know him,” he replied.
“Yeah, don’t think I know that name either,” the first man added.
April’s heart fluttered in her chest, but not in a good way.
“Here,” she said, swiftly setting down her trunk. “Let me show you his photo.”
April reached into her pocket and pulled out the photo of Miles. She handed it over to the man who’d tipped his hat, and, as soon as he took it, his eyes widened and his face turned slightly red.
“You said his name is Miles?” the man asked. “Miles Crawford?” He looked up at April, and April nodded in the affirmative.
The man passed the photograph along to his hatless friend.
“Ah, okay,” the hatless man said. He looked up, then passed the photo along to another of the men.
“Give us a moment, will you?” the first man said, tipping his hat at April again.
The four men stepped back a little and huddled up together, then one of them headed off and started walking toward another building down the road.
“What’s going on?” April exclaimed, anxiety slowly creeping up on her. She was alarmed at the mysteriousness of what the men did.
“He’s gone off to get the sheriff for you,” one of the men explained, turning toward April. “And, the sheriff will be able to tell you what happened to that there man of yours.”
“The sheriff?” April asked. Her alarm had transformed into concern. “Why do I need to talk to the sheriff? Is everything okay?”
The man bowed his head and sucked spit through his teeth. “We’ll let the sheriff answer that ma’am,” he said, turning back to his friends.
April’s heart sunk in her stomach. She was terrified, and, quite frankly, expected the worse. She hadn’t had many encounters with the law back in Pennsylvania, but she knew enough to know that the sheriff’s involvement usually wasn’t a good thing. It usually meant someone was in trouble… or dead.
FIVE
He was tall, lean, and had dark, sun-kissed skin, and, as he approached her, April felt lightheaded and faint.
“You’re here to meet this man, Miss?” the sheriff asked, holding out Miles’ picture. “You’re here to marry him?”
“Yes,” April replied. “Is he okay? What’s wrong?”
The sheriff was only a few feet away from April now, but it felt like it took him forever to near her.
“I’ll take you to his house,” the sheriff answered without answering April’s questions. “Or, rather, I guess I’ll take you to his brother’s house. That’s where he’s been staying.”
“Alright,” April replied. She wanted to ask more questions, but couldn’t come up with the right words.
“We’ll take the carriage, to accommodate your things,” the sheriff said, gesturing toward a somewhat unsightly contraption some ways down the road. He swooped down in front of April and picked up her trunk as if it was a feather.
“Is my fiancé okay?” April asked, following him as he walked toward the police carriage. “I’m very concerned.”
April had finally found the words to say, but the sheriff offered very little in response.
“It’s not my place to say,” the sheriff told her. “Just wait ‘til we get to Crawford’s place.”
Again, April assumed the worst. She was certain that, despite the sheriff’s silence on the matter, Miles was either arrested, injured, or dead.
“If you don’t mind,” the sheriff said, once they arrived at the carriage. He loaded April’s trunk onto the back, then motioned for her to sit back there as well. It was a flat, relatively dirty carriage bed, the likes of which criminals, not women, traveled in. But, nonetheless, April boarded it, as she realized it would be inappropriate for her to sit up front, alone, with the sheriff as they traveled to “Crawford’s place.”
Sitting by herself in the back might have been more appropriate, but it wasn’t comfortable by any means. Not only was the carriage flat and dirty, but it also made April feel even more isolated, secluded, and generally “out of the know.” Even if she’d wanted to ask the sheriff more questions, there was no way he could hear, or effectively communicate with, her from where she sat.
So, as the sheriff drove the carriage away from town, April sat back in quiet and prayer; praying to her Heavenly Father, hoping that her worst assumptions were not true. She was very worried and scared, but, nonetheless, as the carriage started into Green Valley, she couldn’t help but take in her surroundings, in awe.
In his letters, Miles had said that Green Valley was a very special, beautiful place. But, his description could’ve never prepared April for what she saw. Like its name suggested, Green Valley was a green valley. But, beyond that, it was so much more. It was a green, fertile land amidst otherwise brown, rocky space—and, as it opened up in front of April, she saw flowers, crops, and other foliage like she’d never seen before.
The carriage passed a wooden area of tall trees, then passed an orchard of some sort. Just beyond that, there was a pond and swimming hole, where a small group of children were at play.
April’s eyes sparkled at all she saw. But, naturally, her heart still ached. And, as the carriage began to finally slow down, her mind began to race.
The sheriff pulled onto a ranch and brought his horse to a halt.
“Just a minute,” he called back as he got down from his drivers bench.
April nodded in silence, stood, and watched as the sheriff walked to the home and knocked on the door.
A few seconds after he was done knocking, the door crept open. At first, April felt a great sense of relief. The man who’d answered appeared to have light brown hair, blue eyes, and a ruggedly handsome face. By all accounts, he was the spitting image of Miles… But, something looked different. Something wasn’t the same. The ruggedly handsome face that looked back at her looked a little plainer than the one she’d come to know and love from the photograph and letters. It looked a little older, a little calmer, and a lot more subdued.
“Miss,” the sheriff called out from the porch, motioning for April to join him.
April jumped down from the carriage bed, leaving her trunk behind, and walked toward the porch post haste.
“This is George Crawford,” the sheriff said as April came near. “He’s Miles’ older brother… and, he’ll answer whatever questions you have.”
George Crawford stepped out from the doorway, onto the porch. He looked at April curiously and regarded her for a moment before reaching his hand to his head and scratching his scalp through his waves of thick hair.
“You’re looking for Miles?” he asked, looking both dumfounded and curious. Upon closer inspection, April was, again, shocked by how similar, yet different, he looked as compared to his brother.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’m April Sanders, his fiancé.”
“His fiancé?” George asked, scratching his head again.
“Yes,” April replied, growing impatient and increasingly confused. “We’re supposed to be married.”
“You’re supposed to marry Miles?” George asked. His dumbfounded look was replaced with an expression that appeared uncannily, and inappropriately, comical.
“Yes,” April answered. “We’ve been writing to each other for some time, and, after he proposed to me in his last letter, I took the train out here from Pennsylvani
a to become his bride.”
“Oh,” George replied. Suddenly, that comical look disappeared from George’s face, even quicker than it had appeared, and his jaw dropped.
“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this,” George added, rubbing his hand under his jaw. “But, Miles isn’t here anymore. He left about a month ago… He ran away to marry a barmaid from the tavern in town.” At his words, the world seemed to freeze in place. April felt the air rush out of her lungs.
“No,” she said meekly, shaking her head in denial. She’d wanted to say more. But, when she opened her mouth, that was the only word that came out.
“Caused a bit of a stink when he did,” George went on, uninterrupted. “The girl was the tavern owner’s daughter, and the tavern owner didn’t take none too kindly to their plans. He and Miles got into a big ole’ fight in the bar the night before he left.”
“No,” April repeated meekly again.
“Now the owner wants reparations,” George went on. “And, the sheriff and a few other boys in town want their own brand of revenge—which, all in all, explains why Miles ran off the way he did, I guess.
“Now, you’re here looking for him too. And, I’ll tell you the same thing, I told all of them. He aint’ here, and I don’t know when, or if, he’s ever coming back.”
April’s head was spinning. She didn’t want to believe a word that George had just said. In fact, she peered past him, into his home, hoping to see Miles hiding in there, waiting for him to jump out and yell “Surprise!” just as Mrs. Wilson, the baker, and the townsfolk back in Pennsylvania had done.
But, this was no surprise, or no joke, and, as April appraised the seriousness of the situation, she felt weak in the knees.
“But, I came here from Pennsylvania to marry him,” she stammered with tears filling her eyes. “I spent all the money I had on my train ticket. I quit my job and left my family. I traveled the rails for nearly two weeks. I—”
“I’m sorry,” George said. He felt a cold shiver move down his spine, yet, at the same time, felt something warm roll over his heart.
“What am I going to do?” April asked. The tears were no longer in her eyes, but streaming down her face. “I have nothing. I have nowhere to go. I don’t even—”
That warmth that George felt in his heart got the better of him, and, without even realizing it, he spoke.
“You can stay here,” he said. He was shocked when he heard his own words, and the sheriff, who stood by patiently and quietly observing the exchange, seemed shocked too.
“I mean, you can stay here, out in the servants’ shed, until you figure out what to do next,” George added. “That’s where Miles was staying. You can use his quarters for lodging as you consider your options and where to go from here.”
April felt woozy. She felt dizzy. She was completely overwhelmed. But, she still had enough of her senses about her to realize that she needed to respond.
“Okay,” she said, steadying herself. “I’ll say here—in the servants’ shed—until I figure things out.”
George looked at April and wanted to reach out and give her some type of physical support. But, he knew better than that and didn’t want to upset her any more than she was already upset.
“Good, good,” George replied, for lack of anything better to say. “I’ll get your things from the carriage then.”
April nodded and watched as George and the sheriff walked off toward the carriage. Though it wasn’t that far away, and April’s trunk wasn’t that heavy or awkward to maneuver, the men took their time with the task, and April assumed, rightfully so, that they took so long because they were discussing the situation at hand.
But, no matter, as the men had their discussion, April, again, did math in her head. Based on what George had said, Miles left town a month ago. But, according to her calculations that was after he’d already proposed to her and, in all likelihood, received her response. How could he run off any marry another woman when he was set to marry me, she asked herself as she thought over his betrayal again and again, trying to disprove the obvious conclusion.
“Apr—err, Miss Sanders?” George called out as he approached the porch again. Just before he got to the step, he veered off to the left and motioned for April to follow him. “I’ll show you to the shed.”
April stepped down off of the porch, in a daze, and followed George as he walked past the adjacent barn to a smaller, more domestic structure on his land.
“It’s not much,” he said, setting April’s trunk in front of the door. “But, if Miles did plan on having you move out here to be his wife, it’s where you would’ve lived until the two of you found your own place.”
April looked at the structure, though its size, or any of its other features, were the furthest concerns from her mind. She was far more concerned with the whereabouts, and wherewithal, of the man who was supposed to live inside. He’d never mentioned anything about living on his brother’s land in his letters… But, then again, as April was learning, and would continue to learn, he’d never mentioned a lot of things.
SIX
“There’s a spicket out back,” George said, pushing the door open. “And there’s bound to be a bowl or pitcher, and some linens, somewhere inside. Just use whatever you can find, however you see fit, and let me know if you need anything else later. I put a stew on earlier today for supper, and can call you when it’s done.”
April smiled and bobbed her head up and down at George’s comments and directions. He’d explained the layout of his ranch and daily routine to April over the last few minutes, but she was still so flabbergasted and in awe that she’d only absorbed, half, if that, of what he’d said.
“Sooooo,” George said, hawing on that one word.
April stood at the doorway to shed, motionless, and stared in.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you at suppertime then,” George went on. He turned slowly to leave and waited for a moment for her to say goodbye or otherwise dismiss him. But, when she did not, he kicked his boot into the ground and walked away.
As George trudged off toward the main house, April walked into the shed, pulling her trunk in with her. The place smelled dusty and stale and had a sort of “manly” odor to it that reeked of sweat and unwashed clothes. It was also mighty disorderly, too.
As George had said, there were bowls, pitchers, and linens inside—though they were scattered about in a haphazard, careless way, as if they were merely tossed aside once used. There were also some tossed-aside food remnants—meat bones, dried breads, and moldy fruit stones—that added to the disorder and smell as well.
April cringed at the mess she saw and concluded that if she were to stay here even one night, she have much cleaning to do. But, before she began any of that, she had something else she needed to do first.
April dragged her trunk over to the small mattress in the far corner of the room. Then, she patted some of the dust away from the mattress, straightened out the unlaundered blanket, pulled her trunk in front of her, and sat down.
Next, she opened her trunk, pulled out some of the stationary supplies she’d been given as parting gifts in Pennsylvania, and began writing a letter.
Dear Aunt Beth, she wrote. There was been a great misunderstanding here in Texas. The man I was supposed to marry is not here any longer. I feel I have no choice but to come back to Pennsy—
April’s hands had been shaking the whole while that she wrote, and, as she went to dip her quill into the ink bottle again, her hand slipped, and both the quill and the bottle fell to the ground.
“Oh no!” she shouted as she saw the ink spill out onto the floor. It wasn’t the fanciest floor, by any means, but it was about to be irreparably stained by the ink.
April reached into her trunk and pulled out one of her many handkerchiefs, then leaned down and started sopping up the mess. The ink was still spreading, however. So, she reached in and got another handkerchief.
When April bent down again, she noticed that the ink had s
pread to the underside of the bed, but had stopped just short of a box stored beneath it. April wiped the ink from the ground, then tried to wipe it from the box. She only ended up smudging ink on the box though, and, as a result, ended up picking up the box to more thoroughly clean it.
As soon as April picked up the box, she looked down and saw something very familiar—her own handwriting. Right there, inside the box, on top of a stack of other papers, was an envelope addressed to Miles Crawford, from her.
April forgot all about the ink on the side of the box and focused, instead, on what was inside of it. She reached in and pulled her letter out. Sure enough, it was the last one she’d send—the one in which she’d accepted Miles’ proposal and informed him of her travel plans.
April sighed a discontented sigh as she realized that her suspicion had been spot on. But, then she made an even more pained sound when she looked down at the box again. Beneath the letter she’d just removed, there was another letter. But, the penmanship on the envelope was not hers.
What? April voiced aloud as she reached down and grabbed the envelope. She opened in and read the letter inside. It was from a woman from New York who had also replied to Miles’ advertisement. April wouldn’t have thought much of it, since she was sure other women must have been enticed by his post in the Matrimonial Gazette—but, given the date on the letter, she did have reason for concern. It was dated two months earlier, which meant it’d been sent, and received, long after she and Miles had begun seriously courting each other through the mail.
Mail Order Bride: JUMBO Mail Order Bride 20 Book Box Set Page 6