The Accidental Mail Order Bride

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  Just as he rose to his feet, something tapped his boot. Looking down, he saw a spoon used for panning gold. He retrieved it and studied the stream ahead. The sunlight streaming through the tree branches reflected off of something shiny not too far ahead.

  Travis went over to it and picked up the gold pan. Along the rocks, he saw the classifier. Then, around the bend in the stream, he saw an unconscious man lying on his back. Travis ran over to the man and realized it was Carl, and he was drenched.

  Wincing on Carl’s behalf, Travis set the things beside him and knelt next to him. “Carl?” Travis shook his arm. “Carl, wake up.”

  Carl groaned.

  Travis picked him up and carried him to a dry patch of grass and leaves that were far more comfortable than the stream. He tapped Carl’s cheek. “Carl? I need you to wake up. Come on.” He tapped his cheek again.

  Carl’s eyelids fluttered, and he murmured, “Where am I?”

  “Along the stream.”

  This time, he opened his eyes, and it took him a moment to focus in on Travis.

  “Are you alright?” Travis asked.

  “No, no, I’m not.” He sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

  It was then Travis noticed the blood trickling down the back of Carl’s neck. “Hold on. You’re bleeding.”

  Carl put down his hand and inspected the blood on his fingertips while Travis ripped off a part of his shirt. “So it wasn’t a dream,” Carl whispered.

  Travis took the fabric, searched for the wound, found it on the back of his head, and gently pressed the fabric to it. Removing the fabric, he took a good look at the actual wound. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Travis told Carl. “Your head is bound to hurt, but the blood is already drying up.”

  “I thought for sure I was a dead man.”

  Now that Travis knew Carl’s condition wasn’t serious, he could turn his attention to how this happened to begin with. “What happened?”

  “I was panning for gold, and someone came up behind me and shoved my face into the water. He said if I didn’t confess to killing Lydia, he’d kill me, too.”

  Travis, who’d gone back to pressing the fabric over Carl’s wound, shifted so he could get a good look at Carl’s face. He hadn’t noticed it right away, but he could see a couple of bruises on the man’s face from where his face might have hit a rock or two in the stream.

  The person who murdered Lydia was threatening Carl? After taking a moment to come to grips with this new piece of information, Travis asked, “Do you have any idea who attacked you?”

  “No. The person was whispering. All I know is that it was a man because he was too strong to be a woman. He had me pinned in that stream,” he gestured to the spot, “face first so I never saw his face.”

  The ramifications of this were too important to ignore. “We need to go to the sheriff. He needs to know this happened.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? Whoever did this just threatened to kill you. You have to do it.”

  Carl shook his head, and Travis lost his hold on the fabric. Travis picked it up, but Carl was already getting to his feet. “He was serious, Travis. It’s bad enough he wants me to confess to something I didn’t do. If I go to the sheriff, he’ll come after me.”

  “It sounds like he’ll come after you no matter what you do.”

  “Don’t you think I don’t know that? If he killed Lydia, there’s no stopping him from killing me, too.”

  Travis stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Then why don’t you go to the sheriff?”

  “Because…because…” Carl glanced around. “I can be careful. I can set out traps along the property. It worked for Abe when Benny and Gene came for him. And I can stay in the cabin. I don’t have to go to town. Maybe if I don’t draw attention to myself, he’ll relent.”

  “Or maybe you’ll be an easier target.” When Carl didn’t respond, he added, “Even if you set out traps and stay in the cabin, he can come back here.”

  “But I was out in the open before.”

  “You can’t hide here forever.”

  “Of course, I can. I just need to stay away from everyone else.”

  “But you’re doing it for the wrong reason, Carl. You’re letting fear keep you a prisoner here. You can’t hide from the people in town forever.”

  “Why not? You do it.”

  Travis paused. Carl was right. He had let fear keep him confined to his property ever since he arrived to this town because he didn’t want a repeat of what he’d gone through in the one he’d grown up in. “I have a good reason for hiding from the people in town,” he said.

  “And I don’t?” Carl asked. “You think this lunatic threatening me is the worst of it? I’m one of the most hated people around here. Not only do most people assume I killed Lydia, but some hate me because they don’t think I have a right to be on this land. This is my birthright. It’s the only thing my father gave me that’s worth anything. But people think I ought to just hand it on over to my father’s illegitimate son even though my father purchased it, fair and square.” With a shake of his head, he waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. You have your reasons for hiding, and I have mine. In the end, does it really matter?”

  Travis didn’t know how to answer Carl. The man made some good points, and if Travis was going to argue them, he’d have to admit he was equally wrong for being a recluse all these years.

  “You know what I want?” Carl continued. “More than anything, all I want is a fresh start. My father didn’t leave me any money. All of that went to Abe’s mother, and God knows what she did with it. I only have the gold in that stream. I get a little bit of gold from time to time, but so far, all I’ve been able to get is enough for food to get me through another year out in this godforsaken land. All I want is to be free from this place, but I can’t do that without money.”

  Travis studied Carl, seeing a part of himself in him. Ever since he’d gotten those hideous scars, he’d put up with the taunting from the other children in town. Worse, the parents did nothing to stop it. Instead, they pitied him. His father had tried to keep him away from others as much as possible because of it, but there came a day when Travis needed to go somewhere else.

  He, too, had wanted a fresh start, much like what Carl was asking now. There was the same note of desperation in Carl’s voice that had once been in his. While this town was far from perfect, Travis could at least have peace here. He was out far enough where he didn’t have to face anyone if he didn’t want to. It wasn’t like in the past where he and his father were in the center of town. He could at least go outside and not have to worry about someone seeing him.

  Well, at least he hadn’t until he married Allie.

  “I understand what you’re saying,” Travis finally replied. “It’s not easy when you feel like the world is against you.”

  Carl’s face softened. “No, it’s not.”

  “That all being said, I still think the sheriff needs to know. Even if you don’t want to tell him, I’d like to. He’s been looking for the murderer, and he wants to make sure he gets the right man.”

  “I don’t know how it’s going to lead the sheriff to him. The person only whispered. It’s not like I have any new clues to give him.”

  “There might be something the sheriff will see that we’re missing.”

  Carl crossed his arms and shifted from one foot to another. “Alright. You can tell him, but I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

  It wasn’t what Travis had wanted to hear, but given the circumstances, he couldn’t fully blame Carl. Not when he was just as guilty of hiding from others as Carl was now doing.

  “Before I see the sheriff, I should at least fix your wagon,” Travis said. “Why don’t you go on to the cabin, and I’ll collect your panning supplies?”

  “Thank you,” Carl replied in relief.

  Travis nodded and returned to the stream.

  Chapter Eight />
  Allie bit her thumbnail as she debated whether or not she should check out the building Travis had called home ever since she came here. Travis had left about an hour ago, and he’d taken his wagon with him. That wagon had been loaded up with tools, and a couple of new wheels. Based on what Carl Richie had told her yesterday, it didn’t take a lot of guesswork to know he’d gone to Carl’s place to fix his wagon.

  She should have checked out the building as soon as he’d left. If she had, she’d be done by now. The only thing holding her back was the dilemma over whether or not she would be overstepping her bounds. Ever since she came here, Travis hadn’t gone into the cottage. He’d confined himself to the building, only coming out to take care of the animals, to give her food, or to burn trash.

  As much as she tried to get a glimpse of him, the only thing she ever saw was a silhouette. If she’d been brave enough, she would have knocked on the door of the building and stayed there until he answered it. But she wasn’t that brave.

  She might have been able to approach the door without worrying about him grabbing her and pulling her into the building to…to… Well, she wasn’t sure what she thought he was going to do to her when she first made her afternoon treks to the building. The story of Hansel and Gretel had crossed her mind, but she reminded herself that Travis wasn’t a cannibalistic witch waiting for unsuspecting people, even if a couple of the rumors in town might lead her to believe such a thing.

  With a sigh, she studied the path that Travis had taken when he left. No one was on it now. In fact, it would still be too soon for him to come back. From what Phoebe said, Carl lived next to her and Abe, and it took about forty-five minutes just to get to her place from here. If Travis had only been gone for an hour, then she had about that much time left. Probably even more since fixing the wagon might take longer than thirty minutes.

  Decision made, she stepped out of the cottage and hurried over to the shed, glancing at the path, just to make sure he wasn’t there. She made it to the building and flung the door open. Once she was inside, she slammed it shut. Then she went to the window and scanned the path, waiting a full minute before she was convinced he wasn’t there.

  Backing away from the window, she released her breath. She bumped into something. Screaming, she turned around in time to see a block of wood fall off the small table she’d bumped into. Who knew something as simple as checking out what her husband was like could make her so jumpy?

  She quickly picked up the block and put it back on the table. After taking a moment to regain her composure, she finally took a good look at the pile of things around her.

  Just as she’d been led to believe, it was full of junk. Well, she supposed it wasn’t really junk. He had made those chairs from the used lumber in here. So he took things that no one needed and made things he could use. A very practical approach, really. Having grown up without a lot, she couldn’t help but appreciate his mindset on the matter.

  She took in all the things he’d collected over the years. There were stacks of wood, metal, tools, and other odds and ends. One thing she had to admit was that he was orderly. The items were all sorted and put into different sections of the large room. He’d even organized them according to size.

  In the center of the room was a large table. She went over to it and saw four table legs. He’d already finished sanding three and was working on the forth one. The design matched the design he’d used for the legs on the kitchen chairs that he’d made. There was nothing wrong with the kitchen table currently in the cottage, but if he had wanted the chairs to match, then he probably also wanted the table to match.

  What a peculiar man she’d married. He took great measures to hide himself from the entire world, but he was concerned with the appearance of everything he made. It almost seemed a contradiction that someone who considered himself unworthy of a mirror should be meticulous about creating something so beautiful.

  And the table would be beautiful when he was done. Just the design in the legs was exquisite. There was surprising detail in them. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface.

  A horse neighed, and she jerked away from the table. She rushed over to the window. If Travis caught her in here, she didn’t know what she’d do. Probably die of embarrassment. He hadn’t even locked the door. He’d trusted her to stay away from this building.

  But when she saw Caroline and Caleb pulling up to the cottage, she relaxed. Good. It wasn’t him. There was no need to find some excuse to explain why she was in here when she shouldn’t have been.

  She left the building and ran over to them. “Good afternoon!”

  “Hi, Allie,” Caroline said as she and Caleb got down from the buggy. “How are things going?”

  Understanding Caroline was really wondering if things had gotten better between her and Travis, Allie said, “The same. I only catch glimpses of my husband from time to time.”

  Caroline frowned in disappointment, and Allie couldn’t help but think Caroline was sweet for caring about her so much.

  “He’s been very considerate,” Allie assured her. “He seems to be making me new furniture so I’ll be comfortable here.”

  “Yes, there is that,” Caroline replied. “I had just hoped that by now, he would have at least said hello.” Then with a hopeful look at her, she asked, “Has he said hello?”

  “Not in person, but we have corresponded a little in notes.”

  “Notes?”

  Allie nodded. “He brings me food, and he’ll thank me for the meals I make him. He even says I make the tastiest meals he’s ever had. In a way, it’s sweet.” And it was. Allie hadn’t thought about how sweet it was until she was telling Caroline about it. With a smile, she added, “I’ve never come across someone so shy before.”

  “It’s a shame we don’t know how he got to be as shy as he is. If we did, we might be able to help him feel comfortable enough to talk to you.”

  Not knowing what else to say about him, Allie decided to turn the conversation in another direction. “Would you like to come in and have something to drink? I even made some custard.”

  “I haven’t had custard in a long time,” Caroline said. She glanced at Caleb. “Have you ever had custard?”

  “No,” he replied.

  “Then you’re in for a treat,” Caroline told him. Smiling at Allie, she said, “Thank you for inviting us in for refreshments. We’d love to have some.”

  “We both come from the South, but your ways are much more refined than mine,” Allie noted as she led the two into the cottage. “How did you grow up, and what led you all the way out here?”

  “Are you sure you want to know? It’s a long story.”

  “It’s so quiet out here that I’d welcome a long story.”

  “Since you put it that way, I’ll be happy to oblige you.”

  Allie set out the drinks and custard as Caroline told her about her past.

  ***

  As much as Travis hated going into town, he had to. Someone had to tell Eric what happened to Carl, and since Carl refused to do it, he was going to have to do it himself. If Lydia’s murderer killed Carl, Travis wouldn’t be able to handle it.

  So when he finished fixing Carl’s wagon, he lowered the hat over his forehead, hunched forward in the seat, and led the horses to the jailhouse. He kept his gaze forward, not daring to glance around him as the people turned to watch him. Why couldn’t they ever mind their own business? Why did they always have to stop everything they were doing to stare at him? Didn’t they have anything better to do?

  Ignore them. Pretend they don’t exist.

  It was what his father used to tell him. Back then, Travis had been too young to do that, and because of that, the taunting grew worse. It took time for him to realize that ignoring them stopped them from coming up to him.

  Later on, he realized that even though they didn’t come out and make fun of him to his face, they still talked to each other. He’d left his old town, thinking a new start would change all of that, b
ut whenever he went through here, he could hear their hushed conversations if he paid attention to them.

  “Can you see his face?”

  “Not well, but I think there’s a third eye.”

  “Surely, there isn’t. There can’t be.”

  “Then why did it look directly at me?”

  Foolishness. A third eye, indeed! And if he had a third eye, how would it even see the person when his hat was so low over his forehead? Didn’t people think these things through before they said them?

  He forced his attention to the clumping sounds the horses made as their hooves pounded the dirt road. By the time he made it to the jailhouse, he couldn’t help but notice that a group of people had gathered nearby to watch him.

  Travis turned his back to them, got down from the wagon, and stumped to the jailhouse. People like Allie had no idea how lucky there were. They could walk through town without people thinking they had some deformity like a third eye.

  Don’t dwell on it, Travis. There are some things you can’t change, and your face is one of them.

  He stepped into the jailhouse, glad to shut the door—and the onlookers—behind him.

  Eric glanced up from the potbelly stove where he was pouring a cup of coffee. “Hi, Travis. Is something wrong with Allie?”

  “No, she’s fine. I came here to talk about Carl.” He glanced at the cells and saw that Ida Conner was sitting on a bed, her arms crossed and a frown on her face. He wished he’d taken the time to give the full place a careful inspection before talking. Pulling his hat further down over his forehead so she wouldn’t see his face, he added, “It should be done in private.”

  Eric nodded then went over to Ida. “Here’s some coffee,” he told her.

  “I don’t want the coffee,” she snapped. “I want out of here.”

  “You should have thought about that before you started badmouthing your brother-in-law.”

  “I wasn’t badmouthing him. I caught him hiding a woman’s dress under the seat of his wagon, and I know that dress didn’t belong to his wife. There’s something suspicious going on with him.”