Della: Bride of Texas (American Mail-Order Bride 28)

by Trinity Ford

  Della smiled and accepted hugs from all of the ladies, who encircled her with words of regret. “You don’t have to go,” Hannah said. “Please stay.”

  “If you want to,” Annabelle said, “You can stop working at the General Store and go work for Lee!”

  “I think you need to talk to my husband, John,” Millie said with a serious look on her face. “There’s more to this than you know.”

  “Thank you all,” Della said, overwhelmed. “But please, I insist on not talking about this further. I’m going to Savannah tonight and nothing anyone says can change my mind. You’ve been wonderful friends and I will miss you dearly. But I’ve made my decision.”

  Della noticed the look Millie gave Sheriff Lockhart. She paired it with a shrug, as if she was saying, I tried. Della wanted desperately to change the subject. She hated being the target of everyone’s pity. “I smell amazing food!” Della said loudly, with a phony, upbeat tone. “Let’s eat!”

  Everyone had brought a dish, similar to how the church potluck worked. Della wanted to feast on all of the delicious meals, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach, made it hard for her to even swallow a bite. The group sat around chatting for hours, playing some games and laughing about fond memories. Later, everyone went back for seconds, except for Della.

  “You’re not eating very much,” Sheriff Lockhart noticed.

  “Just not hungry,” Della said. “But it sure is good. I’ll miss all this cooking.”

  “Listen,” the sheriff said. “I’m heading into town in a bit for my shift. Why don’t you let me drive you to the depot, so that Roy doesn’t have to make a special trip? Millie can ride home with Hannah and Samuel.”

  “That sounds fine,” Della said. As everyone began leaving, Della fought back tears as she doled out hugs and goodbyes. Finally, it was just Roy, Mary and the sheriff left, and Della knew it was time to go.

  “I’ll miss you,” Mary said, hugging Della and trying not to cry.

  “I’ll miss you, too,” Della whispered.

  Della walked over and hugged Roy, too. “Thank you for taking me in,” she said.

  “Been a pleasure,” Roy said, with emotion in his voice. “You take care now, you hear?”

  Della smiled and nodded her head. Helen had already retired to her bedroom, but Della knew she wouldn’t care about saying goodbye.

  “Let’s go!” Della said, taking in a deep breath as she picked up her bag and reticule and looked at Sheriff Lockhart to lead the way.

  “Here, let me take that,” he said, grabbing the handle of her bag. He held the door open and followed Della out to the carriage.

  Della watched as Roy and Mary stood on the porch waving goodbye. It felt wrong to be leaving them, but she knew it had to be done. She turned back around and used the handkerchief in her reticule to wipe her eyes.

  “Having some regrets?” Sheriff Lockhart asked.

  “No,” Della lied. “I’m ready.”

  “I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” the sheriff said, “but now that I got you alone, I got something to say and you’re going to listen to me.” Della was shocked at the tone of Sheriff Lockhart’s voice. It almost felt like he was scolding her.

  “I really don’t want to…” Della tried to say, heading off a discussion she knew she didn’t want to hear, but the sheriff wasn’t having any of it.

  “I know what everyone says about Hank,” he began in his deep voice that made everyone sraighten up and take notice and cower, as in the case of Hell’s Half Acre rowdies. “I’ve arrested him more times than I care to count. I also know when a man has a good heart, and I’ve never seen him love anyone like he loves you.”

  “He sure doesn’t know how to show it,” Della said, scoffing at the idea that Hank truly loved her.

  “What you don’t know,” Sheriff Lockhart continued, “What you’ve been too stubborn to hear, is that I asked him to do me a favor and help me get one of Kitty’s girls to safety the night of the auction. He didn’t question it. He just did it—came to the rescue of a girl who’d been beaten up…all because he’s the kind of man who doesn’t want to see a woman hurt.”

  Della’s mouth gaped open in shock. Her breath quickened as the full weight of the realization that she’d made a horrible mistake came crashing down upon her.

  “He put his entire future on the line, trusting everything would be okay. He trusted me to tell you, but I got caught up in everything going down at the calaboose. He trusted that you, of all people, would know what was in his heart and understand why he’d done what he done. He didn’t let you down Della. You let him down. We all did. I made my peace with him this morning. You have to choose whether you want to make yours.”

  Sheriff Lockhart stopped talking the second they entered Main Street and pulled up to the train depot. He turned to face her, not saying another word.

  “Sheriff? Can you take me to him?” Della begged.

  “He’s in a place proper women shouldn’t be going, over at the Peacock Saloon in Hell’s Half Acre,” the sheriff replied. “And I don’t blame him. It’s the only place he feels accepted.”

  “I don’t care, Della cried in a panic. “I don’t care if a thousand people see me going in there. I have to make this right.”

  Sheriff Lockhart turned the carriage around and headed into the Acre. There were the usual goings-on out in the streets and loud, bawdy noises coming from the establishments. Della tried to keep her eyes averted from the worst of it, but everywhere she looked there were scenes she’d just as soon forget. Now she knew why Hank and the sheriff were so insistent on cleaning up this part of town. He tethered the horse and helped Della down, escorting her into the dimly lit saloon where Hank sat slumped over at a table in the corner. “Glad you’re back, sheriff,” said the bartender, walking up to the pair as they came through the swinging doors. “He’s been sitting there since yesterday. Won’t leave. Keeps ordering shots and then just stares at it and gives it away. Keeps falling in and out of sleep like he’s in some sort of coma, but he hasn’t had anything to drink ‘cept water.”

  Sheriff Lockhart began walking over to Hank, but Della stopped him. “Let me,” Della said softly. She slowly approached Hank and watched as he sat there, dozed off, ring in hand. She sat down in the chair next to him and gently stroked his hair. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Hank awoke with a start and sat up in his chair, placing his cowboy hat back on his head. His eyes connected with Della’s and the look of hurt that she saw felt unbearable to her.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Hank said. Della didn’t know if he meant she shouldn’t have come to him, or if he was protecting her reputation, but she couldn’t stop now.

  “Hank,” she said. “I was so scared of getting hurt that I protected myself to the point of stupidity, unable to see when someone was telling the truth. Here’s my truth, Hank Hensley. I’m terrified of loving you. I’m scared I’m making the wrong choice—not because you’re not a good man, but because you might someday realize you deserve more than a poor, pig headed girl from Florida who doesn’t know how to dress and can’t cook all those fancy meals that you’re used to. You could have any woman in this county. You took a chance on me, not the other way around. And I let you down, Hank. You risked your heart and I hurt you. I’ll never forgive myself.”

  Hank and Della both looked at each other through watery eyes. He sat in silence, and Della didn’t know if he was filled with anger or sorrow, but it was all her fault, regardless. She stood up and slowly pushed her chair back from the table. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to see me anymore. I’m going back to Savannah, where I can’t do anymore damage.”

  Della turned and walked toward the door, where the sheriff was waiting. With a mountain of pain building inside, she found it difficult to put one foot in front of the other and walk away from the man she loved. All this time, she’d been so wrapped up in what had been done to her, and how her plans had been ruined. She’d never once considered her selfis
hness could devastate another human being.

  “You did hurt me,” Hank’s voice boomed from the corner of the room. Della stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him as the room fell silent. “But you also gave me a gift I’ve never had before—truly feeling loved for the first time in my life. I can’t blame you or anyone else for thinking ill of me when I do things that put me in that light. Look where I’m standing, Della. Maybe I just didn’t want to believe in myself, so I kept teasing you and gave everyone cause for concern.” Hank walked slowly toward Della. All eyes were on the two of them, but Della felt as if the world had just fallen away and she and Hank were alone. “Yesterday I went to fetch you to marry me at our favorite place. I bought you this ring and intended on putting it on your finger and making you my wife before another second passed us by. If you get on that train, you’ll ruin both our lives, Della, and that would do more damage than everything we’ve both been through, combined.”

  Della stood there, unaware that a crowd had gathered around to watch their exchange. Her head tilted to one side as she watched Hank lower himself to the ground on bended knee. “Hank…” she said, wondering if she should stop him before it was too late.”

  “Marry me, Della,” Hank said. “Let me spend the rest of my life proving to you that you’re all that matters to me.”

  Della knelt down in front of Hank and wrapped herself in his arms, her head resting against his chest where she could hear his heart beating. This was home. It wasn’t a town or a state or a community. It was Hank. “Yes,” she cried. “But only if you let me spend the rest of my life proving the same to you.”

  A loud cheer went up from the crowd as Hank stood and scooped Della up in his arms, carrying her through the saloon doors where the sheriff stood grinning. “Sheriff…” Hank said, passing his friend on the way out, “If you’ll excuse us, we have some plans to make!”

  Della leaned her head on Hank’s chest, laughed and whispered in his ear, “For once, I don’t have a plan.”

  Epilogue

  The invitations were very specific: Attire was comfortable. Gifts were to be donated to charity. And time was just before the sun set in the west. Della and Hank didn’t want their wedding to be a showcase of his exorbitant wealth. Instead, it was a testament to the things that mattered most to them—friendships and community.

  When guests arrived at the Double H ranch, they were greeted with special transportation—a hayride—down to where the wedding would take place at Della and Hank’s private pond. Kids in attendance were squealing with glee, and the adults appreciated the addition of hors d'oeuvres and music along the way.

  Those invited to the wedding expected nothing less from the couple, where elegance was met with appreciation for the heart of the event—relationships and bonds, not material items or money.

  Hank’s staff had decorated the pond beautifully—highlighting the natural beauty of the surroundings with little elements that emphasized a union of souls. Chairs were set up along the aisle, which was a beaten path leading down to the water. A natural stone platform served as the spot where the vows would take place and a Weeping Willow tree draped its graceful branches above the stone, providing a soft, flowing canopy. Mason jars, lit with candles inside, were attached to the limbs and also were used to light the way along the path among the vines and rocks. It was the fairytale setting that Hank had envisioned, come to life.

  Pastor Littlejohn stood in front of the small, but intimate crowd, with a big smile on his face—obvious joy that another member of his congregation had found joy and love that resulted in an engagement, and now, marriage. He looked out over the guests and those he’d had a hand in marrying and saw Millie saving a seat for Sheriff Lockhart, Hannah seated next to her husband, Samuel, and Annabelle now pregnant with child from her marriage to Lee.

  Hank walked up beside the Pastor and stood on the rock formation, unable to hide his happiness. Since the event wasn’t formal, he had chosen a vested suit with shite shirt and Bolo string tie with silver tips that Floyd had given him long ago. The clasp for the tie was a small, gold and silver horseshoe with a single gold star in the center. His vest was dark gray as was his Stetson and trousers and the Western-style jacket was white.

  The crowd tittered with excitement as they waited for Della.

  She stood in the back, her arm latched onto Sheriff Lockhart, who was going to walk Della down the aisle. It was the sheriff who restored peace between the two, ultimately opening her eyes to her own misdeeds so she could see the truth of just how much Hank loved her. She trusted the sheriff as a friend to both her and Hank.

  The violinists began playing a beautiful rendition of the Wedding March as Della and the sheriff began their stroll down the aisle toward Hank. Della’s beauty was breathtaking. Not wanting a heavy and burdensome wedding dress for their simple venue, Della had chosen a white dress of silk, with repeated white embroidery around the bottom. The design was faint, but the gemstones within the embroidery sparkled in the setting sun as she made her way down the aisle. The scoop neck of the dress was also embroidered with stones and the same design was repeated in the pointed waist and tip of the sleeves. Rather than the usual wedding veil, her hair was loosely pulled behind her neck and wisps escaped to delicately frame her face. Flowers were carefully arranged within the golden locks with white ribbons peppered with the same glimmering stones that adorned her dress. She looked like an angel and there were delighted oohs and ahhs from the guests as she focused her eyes on Hank’s and seemed to float toward him.

  As she approached Hank, she could see peace in the reflection of his eyes—a feeling of contentment and awe of what they were about to experience.

  The sheriff kissed her cheek when they arrived and had a seat as Hank took Della’s hands in his. “Are you sure you’re ready to take a chance on me?” he whispered before Pastor Littlejohn began.

  The sparkle in her eyes matched the whimsical grin on Della’s face. “Hasn’t that always been the plan?”

  …The End…

  Author’s Note

  I hope you’ve enjoyed story 28 in the American Mail-Order Brides Series. I hope you’ll leave a review and let me know your thoughts!

  If you enjoyed reading this book, there are 49 more in the series! Find out about the rest of the American Mail-Order Brides here: http://www.newwesternromance.com

  This story also ties into the Wanted: Wives in the West series. You can find the others here:

  Short Story #1: Hannah Saves Samuel

  Short Story #2: The Mail Order Midwife’s Secret

  Book #3: Leaving Savannah: The Rebellious Mail Order Debutant – Coming Soon!

  You’ll learn all about how Pastor Littlejohn became a matchmaker and read more about the rich history of Fort Worth, Texas as Hannah, Millie and Annabelle settle in as mail order brides before welcoming their dear friend, Della.

  I want to thank Kirsten Osbourne for letting me incorporate her matchmaker, Elizabeth Miller from the Brides of Beckham series into my story. I highly recommend you check it out and enjoy the fantastic talent of this USA Today bestselling author!

  Please join me on my Facebook Fan Page here: https://www.facebook.com/trinityfordauthor and visit http://trinityford.com to see what I’m working on and to sign up for my street team.

  xox

  Trinity