by Danni Roan
Daliah
Brides of Needful Texas, Volume 1
Danni Roan
Published by Danni Roan, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
DALIAH
First edition. August 16, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Danni Roan.
Written by Danni Roan.
Danni Roan
Daliah
A Needful Bride
Danni Roan
Copyright © 2019 by Danni Roan All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. FIRST EDITION https://authordanniroan.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Chapter 1
“Miss Owens, if I could see you in my office please,” Mr. Bradford the bank president motioned Daliah to his open door.
“Yes sir,” Daliah was quick to comply, she’d been working at the Smithfield bank for nearly two years, and aside from her interview, she didn’t believe she’d ever said more than good day to the bank president.
“Please take a seat,” Mr. Bradford said, indicating a chair before his oversized mahogany desk.
Daliah slipped into the proffered chair nervously toying with the lace at her collar. It had been a hard sell for her taking over her brother’s job at the bank when he’d been killed by the crossfire of a botched bank robbery. With no prospects of making it on her own without her brother, she’d done the only thing she could think of and had practically begged the wealthy businessman for her brother’s job.
“Is something wrong Mr. Bradford?” Daliah finally asked as the rather rotund banker settled onto his chair with a protesting screech.
“I’m afraid that your till has come up short,” Mr. Bradford said, looking at her over his wire-rimmed spectacles. “This is highly irregular,” he continued. “Mr. Shaw our new manager has advised me that your drawer has been nearly two dollars short twice this month.”
Daliah’s mouth fell open in horror. “I assure you Mr. Bradford when I returned my drawer to the safe each evening my numbers tallied perfectly.” How could she be short when she’d kept impeccable records, turning them over each day to the new bank manager?
“Miss Owens, this sort of thing cannot be overlooked. I know you’ve been a stellar employee to date, but if there’s some problem; some need at home, perhaps we could work something out.” Mr. Bradford’s expression was firm but not unkind, and it made Daliah squirm.
“Surely you can’t believe that I’ve shorted the bank on any transaction,” she protested. “I’ve never had so much as a penny go wrong in two years.”
“Mistakes do happen,” Mr. Bradford suggested, “but Mr. Shaw was very adamant that you have been short twice.”
Daliah shook her head, “I’ll fetch my records,” she suggested rising to her feet.
“No need for that,” Mr. Bradford said, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. “I’ve already seen them.” He tapped a pile of neat papers on the end of his desk. “Now do you have anything to tell me?” He asked again.
“Mr. Bradford,” Daliah said, feeling the blood rush to her face as her heart began to pound. “My drawer has never been short, there has to be a mistake.”
“Miss Owens, perhaps if you could explain the circumstances that have brought you to this desperate measure, we could work something out.”
“Circumstances?” Daliah gaped.
“Yes, I know how hard it has been for you since your brother passed. I only gave you this position because he had been such a wonderful asset to the bank. With your parents gone and then losing your brother, I thought it only fair to give you a chance, but if this is how you repay my benevolence...”
He let the words drift away as his dark eyes tried to peer through her.
“Mr. Bradford, are you accusing me of stealing from the bank?” Daliah asked her voice shaking.
“I wouldn’t put it that way but there have been these two irregularities.”
Daliah felt the world spinning out of control. “If I might see my ledger please?” she asked reaching out a hand toward the papers on Mr. Bradford’s desk.
“Mr. Shaw and I have been through every page my dear; you are exactly four dollars and seventy-four cents short this month. That’s more than some men make as wages in a week. I’m afraid that if you are not willing to confess and explain why you have kept back that amount, I have no choice but to let you go.”
“But I didn’t do it,” Daliah wailed rising to her feet, “I’ve never had a single coin go astray, and now I’m being accused of stealing. This isn’t right, it isn’t fair.”
“Miss Owens if you are determined to make a scene I could call the sheriff, as it is I have decided to dismiss you without reference out of my affection for your late brother. If you’ll please gather your things I’ll see you out.”
Daliah rose, clutching her bag and fighting back the tears. She couldn’t understand what was happening. She’d been a diligent employee for two years. Not only was this her only means of support, it was also her joy in a job well done. She’d even been of help to those less educated in sums and numbers in the community, many of whom asked for her regularly.
Mr. Bradford was opening the door and the bright light of day dazzled her making her blink. “I’m sorry about this whole mess, Miss Owens,” the banker was saying with a shake of his head. “If you have anything else to say?” he finished hopefully.
Daliah shook her head as she stepped through the door. What could she say, she had no idea what had happened or where the lost funds could have gone. Instead she stumbled toward the home where she rented a tiny room from an elderly couple.
***
“Daliah my dear, what are you doing home so early? Are you feeling well?” Mrs. Hampton hurried to the door as Daliah stepped through. “You aren’t getting ill are you?” the older woman asked reaching out to feel her forehead.
Daliah shook her head as the tears she’d been fighting the whole way home began to flow. “I lost my job,” she sobbed letting Mrs. Hampton guide her to a chair in the kitchen.
“Sit here dear,” Mrs. Hampton said, pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve and handing it to her young boarder. “I’ll make us a cup of tea and you tell me what happened.”
Daliah poured out her heart to the slim gray haired woman, as she struggled to understand what had happened and to figure out what she would do now that she had no job. Surely others would hear of her shame and what reputable business would hire her after she had dismissed her from the bank. Mr. Bradford would be forced to tell any prospective employer why she’d been let go, and no one would ever hire her. With a moan she laid her head on the table and sobbed.
“Daliah Owens you sit up and drink your tea now,” Mrs. Hampton said, her harsh words making Daliah jump. “This is a terrible thing, it is, but it ain’t the end of the world. We’ll figure out something, and God will see you through.” Olive Hampton patted the girl’s back as she placed the cup on the table.
Daliah took the tea cup in shaking h
ands and sipped the sweet hot brew. She needed to pull herself together. Sitting and blubbering about her situation wouldn’t fix it, and she didn’t have a soul in the world she could count on to sort it out for her.
“You’ve been through worse than this now,” Mrs. Hampton said, taking a seat and patting her on the arm. “When your folks were killed along the trail to Missouri, you and your brother managed, and when you lost your dear brother, you found a job and a place to stay. I know God must have a plan, even if others are the ones making things bad for you.”
Daliah looked up into the narrow face of the woman who had taken her in when she had nowhere to go and tried to smile.
“I don’t know what I’ll do Mrs. Hampton,” she said. “At least when Joe and I arrived here in Smithfield, he was able to get a job and look out for us, even after...” she hiccupped softly dabbing at her eyes, “even after I lost Joe, I had my reputation as an honest worker.”
Mrs. Hampton nodded and listened as Daliah worked through the issues, a keen light shining in her eyes.
“We’ll wait until Orville gets home,” Mrs. Hampton finally said, “and then we’ll see. I’m sure he’ll have a few ideas of his own.”
Daliah nodded. Orville Hampton was well known and well liked in Smithfield. He’d owned and operated the sawmill that had practically built the town, and even now as age and physical limitation prevented him from working such long hours, many looked up to him as a pillar of the town.
“Now you go wash your face and hands and say your prayers,” Mrs. Hampton said, picking up their empty cups and turning to the sink. “We’ll discuss everything over dinner tonight.”
Daliah rose, feeling slightly encouraged by the older woman’s sage words and tripping to her bedroom she did as she was told, whispering prayers for help along the way.
Chapter 2
“Orville, it would be the chance we’ve been waiting for,” Mrs. Hampton’s voice drifted to Daliah as she made her way back to the kitchen sometime later.
“I reckon it’d work all right,” the old man mused.
Daliah wasn’t sure how old Mr. Hampton was, but he seemed ancient to her twenty years. She knew he’d been with the town sawmill for nearly thirty years before turning it over to his own sons.
“It’d be the start you wanted and think of the country we’d see; besides talk has it there’ll be a railroad through soon.” Mrs. Hampton continued, stopping only when she saw Daliah enter the room.
“Is everything all right?” Daliah asked, noting the silence.
“Sit down dear,” Mrs. Hampton said. “I’ll get our dinner.”
Daliah didn’t argue. She could see that Mrs. Hampton had something on her mind and knew that it was better to go along until she understood what was expected of her.
“Ma was telling me about your trouble Daliah,” Mr. Hampton said. He shook his head making his mane of white hair fall over his eyes. “Bad business, bad business,” he continued. “Mr. Bradford is out of line, but naught we can do about it.”
Daliah nodded appreciating the man’s kind words.
“Seems a fresh start would be the best thing,” Mr. Hampton finished as his wife placed a Dutch oven of baked chicken and vegetables on the table.
“Pa and me was talking,” the lady of the house said, “and we thought starting out with a wagon train might be a plan. There’s a small group headed to Texas soon, ya see.”
Daliah looked between the two of them confused. “I can’t afford to move.”
“No but we can,” Mr. Hampton said with a smile as he reached out to take their hands and offer up grace.
When the Amen was said Daliah looked up to her host expectantly.
“Orville and I have been talking about a new start for a while now.” Mrs. Hampton said.
“I always wanted to see more of this land,” Orville spoke up. “I came out here and started my mill, raised a family, had a life, but I haven’t seen so much as I’d like.”
“We know we ain’t young, but if you’d go along with us we’d manage just fine. One of the boys can see to the house and we can get a wagon easy enough.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Daliah argued, toying with her food. “This is your home, your family is here. There must be another way.”
“We don’t want another way,” Mrs. Hampton said pursing her lips. “We want to go out and see something new. It’ll be an adventure.”
Daliah looked at the older couple again. Neither were young, though they didn’t have any serious health issues. How could they possibly want to move out of their home?
“There’s a wagon train leaving in three weeks,” Mr. Hampton said. “If we get everything together, we can head south with them. I hear some areas down there are still as wild as ever.”
Daliah squirmed in her chair, everything was happening way too fast. Surely it would be better if she stayed and tried to clear up the issue at the bank. Wouldn’t it look suspicious if she left?
“Don’t you go over thinking this now dear,” Mr. Hampton said. “Folks will just think you left because you were traveling with us.”
“Honey, it would be a new start,” Mrs. Hampton said taking Daliah’s hand. “It would let us live out a dream we’ve had for years and give you a new beginning. Say yes.”
A warm wave seemed to pass over Daliah as she sat at the table and a flicker of hope ignited in her heart.
“Do you really think it would be all right?” Daliah asked. “What will people think?”
“Folks is gonna think what they will,” Mrs. Hampton said. “You can’t change that. You just gotta do what you know is right in your heart.”
“I do have a little saved,” Daliah said. “I can help out with supplies, and you know I’ll work hard,” a hint of excitement quivered in her middle.
Smithfield had been her home for nearly five years, yet it had never felt like one. Her parents had decided to move their family west, but had died of a fever on their way to Missouri and the starting point of the westward trails.
Daliah and her brother had managed to make a life, eking out a living before Joe had gotten a job at the bank and was killed in a botched robbery. Smithfield had been a town that had brought her great sorrow. Could she leave it all behind and start over? It seemed like a chance that would be worth taking.
Orville Hampton looked at his wife and winked. “I’ll go speak with York at the livery after dinner,” he said smiling, “looks like we’re up for an adventure.” He turned looking toward Daliah. “It’ll work out. You just wait and see.”
Daliah let a slow smile spread across her face. She’d returned to the tiny home with her heart in her shoes, but now she felt that she might have a chance at something new.
Chapter 3
Over the next few weeks Daliah was kept so busy preparing for the spring roll out that she hardly had time to think about her unfortunate circumstance.
Mr. Hampton had lists of things for her to do, items for her to buy, and then Mrs. Hampton had a thousand and one things to sort through and pack.
They’d already packed the necessary utensils at least three times, and Daliah was sure they’d probably pack them at least three more times again as Mrs. Hampton remembered just one more thing she still needed.
“We’ll need the big Dutch oven,” Mrs. Hampton called as she rummaged under the copper sink, her skirts swishing with the curtains that covered the space.
“I’ll get it,” Daliah called back not wanting the older woman to have to carry the cast-iron pot.
“You women ‘bout sorted?” Mr. Hampton walked into the kitchen freezing Daliah on the spot. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and heavy boots over denims and looked like a penny dreadful wanna-be.
“Don’t you look like the bee’s knees,” Mrs. Hampton said backing herself out from the storage space on all fours and settling on her bottom. “Give me a hand up Orville,” she finished waggling her hands.
Orville hurried to his wife who smiled at him the way he liked
as he grasped her hands pulling and tugging until she’d found her feet.
“I’m not as agile as I once was,” Mrs. Hampton said, “but I get by with a little help.”
Orville leaned over and kissed her wrinkled cheek making Daliah smile. What devotion the two had to each other, and even when others thought they must be crazy, packing up a lifetime and heading out into the unknown, they stuck together.
Did people still love like that she wondered? Were there men who were truly steadfast, honorable, and devoted? She’d seen little evidence of it recently, and after the heart-wrenching debacle at the bank, doubted she’d be able to trust any man other than Mr. Hampton, to hold sway over her existence.
“Go fetch the kettle,” Mrs. Hampton said placing the long wooden spoon she’d just retrieved into a crate. “I think that just about does it.” She finished looking up at her husband. “Have the boys decided we’re not completely stark raving mad yet?” she asked, with a twinkle.
“They’ve come to accept what we’re doing,” Orville said, “don’t like it much, but they’ll live with it. I might ‘a told them the rail was coming, and we could be back in no time if we chose,” he added, with a grin.
“I will miss the children,” Olive Hampton said, “but we can always come back if this isn’t any good,” she finished placing her hands on his stubbly chin and kissing him softly.
***
Daliah looked at her meager possessions examining each item with care to determine if there was anything she couldn’t live without.
She had her mother’s locket, her father’s watch and her brother’s gold chain tucked into a leather sack and tied up tight to protect them from prying eyes and the elements.
She had two extra, serviceable dresses, two night gowns, three changes of undergarments, and an extra pair of boots. Quietly, she ran her hands over the lovely dress that had been her mother’s, debating whether she should keep it then folded it and stuffed it into the bottom of her bag.
