Pearl of Promise (A Sweet Mail Order Bride Western) (The Brides of Carville)

by Raina King

  Louise leaned over Gwen. “No. She doesn’t. I’m sure she’ll be alright, but you should have the doctor check her out.”

  “I…I can’t,” Nora looked down, embarrassed. “I have no way to get into town.”

  “Arlen couldn’t have taken your wagon—I saw him ride up today on horseback. He and Stanley rode to work together.”

  “Uh…no…not exactly. He…uh…I can’t find the tack to harness the horses.”

  “You can’t find it? How do you lose…?” Louise’s jaw went slack when she realized the truth. “Nora, how long has this been going on?”

  “It’s nothing, really, I just need—”

  “But it’s not right. He can’t keep you locked up like that. I don’t understand. Why would he—”

  “Please, I can’t talk about that right now,” Nora pleaded, blinking back tears of humiliation and pain, “could you just give me a ride into town? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have no choice.”

  “Oh, Nora…I feel just awful. You know I’d help you in any way I could, but our wagon wheel broke at church on Sunday. We had to leave it in town to be fixed, and ask the Lathums to give us a ride home in their wagon.”

  “Did you bring the horses back with you, at least?”

  Louise shook her head. “Left them at the livery. All we have are the two paint horses, and Stanley took one of them to work with him. But you could leave Gwen here with me, and ride into town.”

  “Could I?” Nora sighed with relief. “That would be wonderful.”

  “There’s just one problem—it’s Wednesday. Dr. Townsend always travels to Verdant Springs on Wednesdays. They don’t have a doctor there.”

  “What am I going to do?” Nora hugged Gwen to her chest, trying not to give in to panic.

  Louise thought a moment. “Go see Mrs. Lathum. She told me on Sunday that her father was an apothecary. He taught her a lot of remedies. If she has nothing prepared, at least try to get a recipe from her.”

  “Where does she live?”

  Louise shook her head. “I’m not sure. I know she’s in town—on the north side, I think, but I’ve never been to her house. I know someone pointed it out to me once, but I can’t for the life of me remember it.” She snapped her fingers. “I know! Her husband works at the train depot. Ask him, he’ll direct you to their house. Now you stay here and take care of Gwen—and make sure my children don’t murder each other—and I’ll go saddle the horse for you.”

  “You’re an angel, Louise.”

  “Nonsense, you’d do the same for me.” Louise flashed her a smile before disappearing out the door.

  **

  Although he’d taken to staying late at the mine again, ever since his argument with Nora, he was eager to get home for once. Not to see Nora—he still planned to avoid her—but to get some work done on his own claim. He had a feeling he was close to a good vein of silver, and he wanted to move some rock before the sun set.

  When he got home, he was shocked to find the disarray in the barn. It had been hastily torn apart. By Nora? Had she tried to go to that blasted festival? No, that’s not for a few more days, he thought. He glanced through the barn door at the horses, still safe in their corral.

  She didn’t find it, then. Good. The tack was hidden in the smoke house. He’d been worried she might find it, if she got desperate enough. You’d think she’d have tried to hide her search by cleaning it all up. Hope she doesn’t think I’m going to do it. Seemed like it was time to have a talk with his wife.

  He strode into the house, throwing open the door, and braced for an argument.

  The house was silent.

  There was nothing cooking on the stove, no plates set out for dinner, not a sound. He didn’t bother to check the bedroom—he could see through the door she wasn’t in bed, and the cradle by the woodstove was empty.

  Walking outside, he saw the laundry flapping in the breeze. He scanned the meadow, and the tree line beyond. “Nora!” he called.

  Where could she have gone? With no tack, there was no way for her to leave, but on foot. And the only place nearby was…

  Louise!

  Chapter 8

  The ride into town seemed to take forever. Gwen had gotten noticeably worse as Nora had waited for Louise to saddle the horse. It pained her to leave her child behind. What if she takes a turn for the worse. What if she dies, and I’m not there?

  Her stomach churned, and she spurred the horse on. Is God punishing me? Is this my fault, for not being a better wife? You’re supposed to obey your husband—and I suppose I did, in a way. But in my heart, I didn’t.

  Such thoughts plagued her as she rode—the fantasies she had entertained of leaving her husband and moving back east, her resentment at having her books taken away, her anger over not being allowed to go to the festival.

  It all seemed so childish. She’d been ready to break up her family, and over what? Silly books? A stupid festival? It wasn’t that she thought Arlen was right. He wasn’t. Whatever his issues were about her socializing or reading books might be, she knew it wasn’t right for him to keep her so isolated. But maybe she should have spoken up, and told him how she felt, instead of just yelling at him and then giving him the silent treatment.

  I’ve been so wrapped up in my own pain that I didn’t even see my baby’s. How long had Gwen’s symptoms been coming on? Could it have been hours? Days? Why didn’t she see it sooner? Surely there were other symptoms before Gwen stopped wanting to eat. Nora felt nauseous at the thought.

  She hoped she could find Mr. Lathum in time.

  **

  “Is she here?” Arlen demanded when Louise opened the door.

  Louise fixed him with a hard look. “No she’s not,” she hissed, “and keep it down. Mary is napping, and I just got Gwen to fall asleep, finally.”

  Why would Gwen be there, but not Nora? She never left Gwen’s side. “Where is she?”

  “She’s at the train station. And I’ve got a few things to say to you, Arlen Hunt—”

  “The train station?” His gut clenched. Surely she couldn’t be abandoning Gwen, as well? Even Sylvie wouldn’t have done such a thing!

  “How long ago?”

  “I’m not done,” Louise snapped.

  “Yes you are,” he growled, spinning on his heel and swinging himself up into the saddle. He wasn’t going to waste time letting Louise nag at him because Nora had cried on her shoulder. If he wanted to stop his wife, there was no time to lose.

  “Arlen, wait,” Louise lifted her skirts, hurrying out the door after him.

  “I’ll be back for Gwen,” he called over his shoulder as he dug his heels into his horse’s flanks.

  “Wait! You don’t—” the rest of Louise’s words were lost in the thudding of the horse’s hooves against the dry dirt.

  He charged down the mountain road, spurring his horse on. How could she do this? Bad enough for her to leave me, but to leave her own daughter? And without so much as a note to tell me that she’d left Gwen with Louise?

  It didn’t seem right. What kind of woman did such a thing? He deserved better. Gwen deserved better!

  He pulled his horse up short. Should I even try to bring her back? What if she just tries to leave again? What if she takes Gwen with her, next time? Or what if she stays for now, but tries to leave again, years from now? Gwen would be devastated. She’d feel abandoned, just as he did now. Maybe it’s best if I let Nora go. At least Gwen will have forgotten about her after a month or two. Maybe it’s for the best.

  He sat astride his horse, listening to the poor beast panting in the heat. Around him, insects buzzed, and the sun beat down on Arlen’s hat. He took off his hat swiping sweat from his brow. Then he looked up at the cloudless sky.

  What should I do, Lord? I know you and me haven’t been on good terms since I lost Sylvie. Well…I guess I haven’t been on good terms with you, anyway. But I’ve been going to church anyway, and I still believe. So why does this keep happening to me? Am I that terrible of
a husband? I know Colorado is a hard place, but I haven’t seen any other man have two wives flee from them! I don’t even know if I want Nora back…but I don’t want Gwen to grow up without a Mama. So tell me what the right thing is. Show me, and I’ll do it.

  Arlen waited. And he listened.

  God didn’t respond.

  After five minutes without a sign, Arlen turned his horse around and made his way slowly back up the mountain road toward home.

  **

  “Mr. Lathum!” Nora hurried across the platform. A dozen feet ahead of her, a man with greying hair turned.

  “Oh! Mrs. Hunt, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said, gasping for breath as she caught up to him. “I thought I had missed you. The man at the station window said you’d gone home for lunch, and I—”

  She cried out in pain as the heel of her boot caught on a loose board, sending Nora tumbling to the platform.

  Mr. Lathum rushed to help her, kneeling at her side. “Are you alright?”

  Nora only groaned, clutching her wrenched ankle.

  “I’m so sorry—I told Herbert that we needed to fix that loose board. This was bound to happen.”

  “It’s not important,” she said through gritted teeth. “I need…my little girl…she’s sick, and I need to get her help.”

  “The doctor isn’t in on Wednesdays. I’m not sure—”

  “Your wife. She has herbal remedies?”

  “Oh!” he exclaimed, “yes, she does. Our pantry is loaded with all kinds of things—tinctures, salves, poultices…”

  “Wonderful,” she interrupted. “Please, can you take me to her?”

  “I’m sorry, my dear, I don’t see how I can do that—”

  “I’ll gladly pay for anything I use. Please.”

  “No, that’s not necessary. I’m sure Bessie will be glad to give you anything you need. But I don’t see how I can get you there, unless you brought a wagon. I don’t have mine, only my horse.”

  Nora shook her head. “I rode by horseback.”

  “Oh dear. That’s your left ankle—there’s no way you can get up into a sidesaddle using that ankle. I’m assuming your saddle is the standard—”

  “Yes, yes,” she mumbled. “I mount on the usual side.” She pounded a fist on the platform, holding back the tears that wanted to come. “Gwen needs that medicine. She’s getting worse, quickly. What am I going to do?”

  “How about this: you tell me what’s wrong with your daughter, and I’ll tell Bessie. She’ll be able to pick out what you need.”

  Mr. Lathum helped her up, and she hobbled over to the nearest bench. Then Nora relayed any information she had, and her observations about Gwen’s condition, and answered the few questions that Mr. Lathum asked.

  “Now, you sit here, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t go anywhere.” He gave her a kindly smile, then turned and hurried—in a shuffling, older-man-fashion—down the platform.

  As if I have a choice, Nora thought, regretting that she’d had to leave Gwen behind. If Arlen hadn’t hidden the tack, I could have driven into town with Gwen, she thought bitterly. If she dies, I’ll never forgive him…

  Chapter 9

  As his horse trudged up the road, Arlen felt a knot forming in his stomach. It felt as if every drop of energy had drained from his body.

  He wanted to blame Nora, just as he’d blamed Sylvie for leaving him. Sylvie hadn’t given him a chance, either—she had just fled their home without a word to him. But at least she had left a note! Nora hadn’t even done that. She’d just abandoned their child with a neighbor, and gone into town for the train.

  How had she even gotten to town? All their horses had been in the barn, but the one he was riding. Did Louise loan her a horse? Or did someone come to pick her up? If that’s the case, it had to have been preplanned.

  An image of his wife laughing and talking with Theo Erikson at the social flashed through his mind. Could she have run off with Theo?

  He shook his head. None of it made sense. He’d kept her from town. So unless Erikson had been sneaking up to their claim to see Nora on the sly, Arlen couldn’t see how they had arranged the escapade. It was possible—but could he have missed such signs of infidelity in his wife? And wouldn’t it have been too risky, given that Arlen had varied his schedule on purpose, at times, to make sure Nora wasn’t sneaking off to town or to trade books with Louise?

  Arlen just couldn’t imagine Nora being so cavalier as to carry on a love affair with her own daughter right in the house. But then again…she did abandon Gwen, too, didn’t she?

  His brain was muddled. He couldn’t think straight.

  Then an image filled his mind…of Nora, sitting on the stump outside their cabin, nursing Gwen and singing a sweet lullaby. There was no mistaking the look on her face—she loved Gwen.

  Then if she loved Gwen, why did she leave her behind? Could it be that she planned to come back for Gwen after she bought train tickets? How much of the plan did Louise know? He chastised himself for not taking the time to ask Louise questions before he ran off.

  Arlen clenched his heels into the horse, telling it to pick up the pace. He’d find out from Louise.

  What’s the point? A petulant voice in his head piped up. She’ll be gone by the time you get to Louise’s, anyway. Just let her go.

  An enormous sense of loss swept over him. His chest ached, and he realized he just couldn’t let her go. As much as it might hurt his pride, he had to at least find out why. Why did she leave? Why didn’t she take Gwen? Why hadn’t she left him a note?

  He had to find out. He knew he’d failed her—she’d been so obviously miserable for months. Just like Sylvie. Could it really just be the loneliness of the mountains, or was there more? Was it really just him? Was he that unlovable? He had to know, or it would eat away at him. He’d become a bitter old man, and Gwen deserved better than that.

  Arlen wheeled the horse around and kicked the horse’s flank, galloping down the winding road toward Carville.

  Chapter 10

  Nora rubbed her ankle absentmindedly as she gazed down the platform to her right, and out onto the street. Perhaps I’ll get lucky and catch the doctor as he comes back into town. She wondered if he usually came back before nightfall.

  “Mrs.…Hunt?”

  Nora looked up, startled, as a tall, broad-shouldered man approached. She shaded her eyes. “Oh, you’re the new pastor!”

  “I am,” he nodded. “Reverend Holden.”

  “Yes, I remember. We met briefly after you gave your first sermon last week.” He grinned. “I wasn’t sure if I had your name right. I met so many new people that day.” He glanced down at her foot. “Are you hurt?”

  “Just a twisted ankle.” She glanced past him, toward the street.

  “Can I help you get somewhere?”

  She shook her head. “Not unless you have a wagon, and you know where the Lathums live. I need Mrs. Lathum’s help.” She berated herself for not thinking to ask Mr. Lathum his address, in case she found someone who could drive her over to his home.

  “I only have a horse I’ve rented from the livery, and the pastor has taken the church buggy to visit a sick church member. I think I have met the Lathums, but I have no idea where they live.”

  “It’s alright,” she sighed. “With my luck I’d probably miss him somehow, as he’s on his way back here.”

  “Is he fetching a doctor for you? The way you’re rubbing that ankle, it looks painful.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about my daughter. She’s just a baby, and she’s sick. The doctor is out of town on Wednesdays, and I’m hoping Mr. Lathum’s wife has a good home remedy we can use, until the doctor gets back. He just left for his house, to fetch a remedy from his wife.” She bit her lip, anxious to do something to help her daughter, other than sit and wait.

  “Why don’t I stay with you until Mr. Lathum gets back?”

  She nodded, grateful for the distraction, and moved aside to leave ple
nty of room on the bench. “What brings you to the train depot? Do you have relatives coming to visit?”

  He looked away as he sat on the opposite end of the bench, and she thought she detected a blush creeping up his neck, beneath the white collar of his grey clerical suit. “Uh…no…just buying a ticket. For…a friend.” He cleared his throat. “Would you like me to pray with you? For your daughter?”

  She gave a half-hearted nod. “I suppose so. Maybe God will listen to you. He doesn’t seem to be hearing my prayers, lately.”

  “Mrs. Hunt, God always hears our prayers. We may not always get the answer we want, or in as timely a fashion as we’d like, but I promise you, he always answers somehow.”

  Nora sighed, staring off at the mountains beyond the railroad tracks. “I used to believe that. I thought coming out to Carville was an answer to my prayers. I dreamed for so long to have a chance at an adventurous life, like I read about. Then I came across Arlen’s advertisement. He was seeking a wife out west. It seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

  “You’re a mail order bride?” Reverend Holden asked, surprised.

  “Yes. I know most people must think that I was desperate, or that I was fleeing some unfortunate circumstance to consider marrying a stranger. But I found it exciting. I could have married one of several men back home, but I didn’t want the boring life of a simple housewife.”

  “You wanted adventure.”

  “Yes! But instead I got a life of isolation and loneliness. Of drudgery and sameness, day after day.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” he hedged, “what is so bad about being a housewife?”

  “I…I don’t know. I’ve just read so many exciting stories: Indian raids, stagecoach robberies, bank robberies, plagues, droughts, wildfires. The lives of the pioneers in my books are so filled with all manner of unexpected events. But life out here isn’t like that. Not at all.”