Then Victoria stirred in the wagon, and Thomas began to think of her. That was what he needed to do, he thought to himself. He needed to follow through on his promise to her. He needed to make sure she made it safely someplace west and got settled. Then he could worry about what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He owed it to James, and after she put herself out there to help him with Samira, he owed it to Victoria as well. As he finally started to doze off, he realized he owed it to himself to see someone all the way to a safe place.
***
As the days turned into weeks, the shock and grief Victoria and Thomas were working through helped them form a bond. It took a few days for them to talk to each other again. Both were convinced that the grief the other felt was more intense than their own, and they did not feel right bringing it up. However, as they were pulling away from the last of the underground railroad stops Thomas was delivering a message to, especially after hearing the horrors some of the runaways had just left, the pair both seemed to find sudden relief in the other.
Thomas held the reins lightly as Victoria held a large paper map and plotted out the route to the area where they hoped to camp for the night.
“We have not talked about it, you know.”
Victoria, engrossed in the map, responded, "About what?”
“About where exactly you want to go, and about what you hope to do as a single mother.”
Victoria laid the map on her lap. “Oh. That.”
Thomas looked at Victoria. “Do you have a plan?”
Victoria shrugged. "Well, everything so far has felt so spontaneous, I have only thought as far as you helping me get there. I have not thought about what I would do after you come back here.”
Thomas felt a pang as he realized he was not sure he wanted to return. Not when every place that meant anything to him would also remind him of the four people he loved most, and how he had played a huge part in the way they died.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind helping me get to this place called Denver, or near there, anyway. I used to teach in England. I suppose wherever I get settled I can try to help teach or tutor, or something like that. Or, if that is not an option, I am a fairly good cook. I could always find work doing that. I hear the miners and prospectors out West are always looking for a woman who can cook or clean. I don’t imagine I will be single for long.”
Thomas looked at Victoria again and could not help remarking with his typical Southern charm, "The prettiest woman in the South moves out West—I am certain she will not stay single long at all.”
Victoria met Thomas’ gaze and blushed at his compliment. She turned away quickly, afraid he would see how much he truly did flatter her. She chided herself that she had no business reading into his compliments—he was still grieving, and his kindness was just a way to make her feel better. However, when Victoria turned away so abruptly, Thomas realized he truly meant what he said, and it hit him that Victoria very well could meet a new husband in this Denver place.
Victoria shook her head. "I am sure it will all work out just fine. I hope I don’t keep you so long that you end up regretting helping me. I already feel like it's my fault—”
Thomas pulled the horses in and stopped the wagon. He turned in his seat to look at Victoria better. “What's your fault?”
Victoria looked down at her lap. “What I mean is, if you had not come to help me in Charleston, you could have made it to Louisville in time—maybe—and then you would still have your wife and daughters.”
Thomas reached out and grabbed Victoria’s arms, forcing her to look at him.
“You needed help, Victoria. You are an innocent party in all of this.” As he said it, and realized what else he was going to tell her, he also realized he was right, and in applying it to himself, he could finally forgive himself too. “Samira and James were working with me. We chose a life of danger, and we put you and my daughters in harm’s way. We had a choice. You did not. Neither did my daughters. I cannot save my daughters. I can, however, help you. You hold no blame. None at all. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”
Victoria stared into Thomas’ face and saw a wall fall down as he forgave himself for his part, and she knew he was right. She was still grieving, and she still felt responsible in a way, but she knew those feelings would pass. As a single tear slid down her cheek. Thomas gently wiped it away.
“You are my family now," Thomas said to Victoria, and he leaned his forehead against hers. "I promise here and now that I will see you safely settled, and I will not leave your side until you tell me to go.”
Victoria felt his breath on her face. His promise washed over her and made her feel warm all over. As butterflies began to dance in her stomach, she opened her eyes to find herself staring right into Thomas’ eyes. She watched him shift his face, and then she felt his lips on hers, a gentle, tender kiss. A seal to his promise, and then he was sitting back upright and tapping the horses to continue onward.
Victoria blinked. What had just happened? Her hands rested on her belly, and she tried to stop her racing heart. She knew Thomas meant nothing seductive with his kiss, but her entire body seemed to sing in its wake. Suddenly overcome with emotion, Victoria turned to the back of the wagon and, climbing carefully over the seat, she excused herself to take a nap. With Thomas driving the wagon, Victoria settled on her bedroll and silently cried herself to sleep, not knowing if she should tell Thomas how she felt, if she should wait, or if she should let him go once he kept his promise.
***
Two weeks later, without any further incident, Thomas and Victoria came upon a small homestead where the family informed them they were only a day’s ride from Denver. They would soon see the mountains on the horizon. As they pressed forward to find a spot to make camp, they crested a rise and both of them let their jaws drop as the mountains, snow-capped and majestic, appeared in front of them. Thomas stopped the wagon. Overcome by the majesty of the mountains, he reached out and took hold of Victoria’s hand.
She squeezed his hand, and they looked at each other.
“Thomas...”
He put a finger to her lips. “Before you say anything, may I?”
Victoria nodded silently.
“I promised to bring you here safely. I promised I would stay until you tell me to go. Initially, I promised this to honor James. Then I told myself I was helping you to honor my wife and my daughters. Then I told myself I was doing this because I owed you for trying to help me. However, as I look at those mountains, and I realize tomorrow could be the first day of a new life for you, maybe without me, I know I don’t want to leave you.”
Victoria tilted her head to the side, her hair now loose and uncovered, blowing in the light breeze, and asked, "What are you saying, Thomas?”
Thomas took both of her hands in his and scooted closer to her on the seat. “Victoria Bramwell, I want to know if you would do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Thomas Bramwell. Would you allow me to remain with you for the rest of my life? Somehow in all of this, you have become the center to my life, the lighthouse in my stormy seas. If I cannot remain by your side, as your husband, I will be lost.”
Victoria looked at their clasped hands, and she pulled herself closer to Thomas. Impetuously, she quickly leaned forward and kissed Thomas. As their lips met, both were almost overcome with desire for the kiss to continue and expand. Breathless, they pulled away and gazed into each other’s eyes.
“Is that a yes?” quipped Thomas.
Victoria sat facing forward and scooted to sit right next to Thomas. As she withdrew her hands to loop one through Thomas’ arm, she leaned her head on his shoulder, and replied, "Yes, Thomas.”
Grinning widely, Thomas signaled the horses to move forward, and the pair found the future suddenly full of hope, excitement, and best of all—love.
THE END
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Paige stood at the counter and tapped her fingernails impatiently as she looked around the room and out the windows overlooking the dusty main street of the dingy little western town. She knew what to expect so the town itself had not been much of a surprise. Her two younger sisters had also responded to the call for mail order brides and were each settled in western towns, but both were much further north. Paige had hoped to settle closer to each of them, but the ad she had accepted turned out to be further south than she had expected. She didn’t mind, she thought to herself, she was still close enough to be able to visit her sisters from time to time.
Paige was the eldest of the three, but all three had been orphaned in England and when they had moved to America to live with their mother’s brother and his family, it soon became apparent that he had no interest in helping the young ladies better their livelihoods. It was his wife, who mad eit no secret that she had no interest helping them when she had children of her own to raise and see settled, that had offered up the idea of finding suitable husbands out west.
For Paige, the idea had seemed foolish and dangerous. Marry a complete stranger? However, her youngest sister, Maria, had found the idea romantic. She almost immediately scouted newspapers and announcement boards in the telegraph office. Within a week, she found one that sounded appealing to her, and was off to meet her new husband within that very month. Once she was settled in her new home, her letters revealed almost an idyllic life with a young man who was good to her.
Paige still held on to her skepticism, but Maria’s success and the prodding of their Aunt, caused Paige’s middle sister to consider the idea. Julie was a little more cautious than Maria was, but still she found an ad that she thought sounded good, and spent a month corresponding with the young man before she also left. Still, Paige had stayed behind content to be critical of her sister’s immediate successes in their mail order marriages.
However, as the months passed and Paige’s Uncle started dropping more and more blatant hints at his attraction to her, sometimes in front of his wife, Paige realized she needed to move on, and quickly. So she too began scouring the newpapers and boards, but nothing seemed to stand out to her. When her Uncle laid his hands on her and attempted to kiss her, Paige grew desperate, so she went to the newspaper to advertise herself as a mail order bride.
She was shocked when she was delivered a bag of inquiries and offers. She had sat on her bed sifting through them listlessly, completely out of her element. She had never been good with the opposite sex. She was awkward around most men. She had no social graces, and had no patience with the games most women her age felt the need to play to gain a man’s attention. It was all foolishness in her mind. So as she read through the inquiries and offers, she found most of them to also be silly or over-blown or highly suspect and void of truthfulness.
“Oh Lord,” she prayed,”How do I choose?”
As the stack laid there in front of her, Paige decided to just have faith, and as she prayed for an unlikely miracle, she closed her eyes and reached into the stack determining that whichever one she held in her hand when she opened her eyes would be the one she would accept. After all, it really made no difference. Marrying a complete stranger was still marrying a complete stranger. So, when she opened her eyes to read the inquiry, which simply stated that the man was in need of a young woman to help him, and he would promise to treat her well, Paige thought it sounded good enough. Keeping to her own resolution, the following day she sent off a telegram in acceptance of the inquiry.
Three weeks later, she had left her Uncle’s home, and after a month of hard travel, she stood at a rough wooden counter waiting for her soon to be husband to fetch her. Paige drew her attention back into the room and glanced at her reflection in the huge mirror mounted behind the counter.
She took in her brown curly hair, which was escaping the pins that held it in a bun under her wide brimmed hat. Impatiently, she tucked the wisps behind her ears. She noted the blush in her cheeks and attributed it to the intense heat that radiated off the street and through the open windows. Her brown eyes were wide and a little nervous, but also there was a gleam of excitement in them. Paige smiled at her reflection. She did not consider herself all the pretty, but she was not ugly either. Where she may lack in looks, she knew she made up for in intelligence and character. She was confident she could tackle anything life threw at her.
Still looking at her reflection, she started to adjust her hat, and smooth the lace at the top of her dress. As she did so, she noted a man a little taller than her with black hair, a ragged beard, and blue eyes stagger into the hotel. He took his hat off once he entered and stood looking around the room. Paige turned to face him and as she did so, he noticed her.
The man approached her and held out his hand, and as he stood directly in front of her, Paige caught the intense odor of stale liquor roll off of him. She extended her hand as well, while she moved her scented handkerchief to her nose with the other.
“Miss Paige Trunkle?” the man asked as he brazenly looked her up and down clearly happy with what he saw.
“I am.” replied Paige wondering who the man was and why on earth he had been obviously drinking so early in the day, for it was not even noon yet.
“Wonderful!” replied the man, still gripping her hand tightly. “I am Mitch Frost. I am the one who sent for you.”
Paige’s mouth dropped open in sudden realization that the man standing in front of her was to be her new husband. As the color drained from her face and she realized she had made a horrible mistake, she looked more closely at the unkempt man in front of her. He had to be at least fifteen years older than her. There were strands of white in his black hair and a streak of it in his beard. There were deep creases around his eyes and in his forehead. His clothing, while of good quality, was certainly not cared for, everything was wrinkled, and looked as though had been slept in and worn for days. She had gloves on her hands, but even so, she could feel his hands were rough and in glancing at them could see he took no great care of them. “Oh Lord, what have I gotten myself into”
Mitch released Paige’s hand completely oblivious to her sudden consternation. He looked around her. “Where is your luggage?”
Paige glanced to the pile near the door, which consisted of a large trunk, a hat box, and two carpet bags. Mitch nodded his head realizing the stack was hers. He leaned across the counter and called out to the clerk.
“Hey, George! Have your bellboy, or whatever he is, bring this young lady’s luggage over as soon as you can, would you?” After getting a grunt of affirmation from the older man, Mitch took Paige’s hand and linked it through his arm. He smiled at her as he patted her arm.
“You and me got a date with the minister, I do believe.” Without waiting for Paige’s reply, even as a lump of dread fell deep in her stomach, Mitch led Paige out the door and down to the church where they were wed immediately.
After the simple ceremony, numb and in shock with herself more than anything, Paige was led out of the church and down the street. She paid no attention until Mitch stopped and exclaimed,”Well, my dear, this is your new home.”
Paige looked up at the building and realized in shock that he had led her to the saloon. The two story building was well-taken care of. The windows were clean, the front walkway which connected to the jail on one side and the general store on the other was swept clean. The upstairs windows, also clean, had lacey drapes hanging in them. However, Paige also noted the young women looking at her through the windows of the first floor. Each one was gaudily made up with their hair done in tight ringlets, their minimal clothing attesting to their profession. Paige’s eyes flashed to Mitch in question.
“We live u
pstairs of the saloon?” She envisioned the raucous noise as she tried to prepare dinner, or tried to put a sleeping child down for the night. Certainly, this was a temporary lodging. Her hopes were dashed when Mitch replied.
“Of course! We have the best room in the house! I own this place. What do you think?”
Paige felt suddenly nauseas as she realized she had just married a saloon owner; a saloon owner who kept prostitutes. Paige was no fool. In her 19 years, she had been around enough to know that tavern and saloon owners both in England and America who kept women also enjoyed those women often forming bonds that emulated married couples. As she and Mitch stepped onto the walkway, she felt the eyes boring into her from the women inside.
AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories) Page 85
