The Accidental Mail Order Bride

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  “Do you have anything I can use to help her?” Allie asked. “She might need bandages.”

  She could tell by the way he winced that he hadn’t expected her to need anything from him. But after a moment, he said, “I have bandages in the building.”

  “Good. Wait here. I’ll tell you what we need once I look at her ankle,” she replied and made her way over to Ida.

  “I can’t expose my ankle in front of him,” Ida whispered. “He’s not my husband, nor is he a doctor.”

  “Oh, well…” She glanced over at Travis. If she let him leave right now, she’d lose the opportunity to get more acquainted with him. “Travis, would you mind turning around while I check her ankle?” Before Travis could argue it might be better if he just left, she added, “It’ll only take a minute.”

  Sighing in resignation, he turned his back to them and waited.

  Relieved, Allie looked at Ida. “Which ankle is it?”

  With a cautious glance at Travis, Ida lifted the hem of her dress and showed her. Allie unbuttoned her boot, a process which took longer than she expected, and carefully removed it so she didn’t make things worse for the woman. She then lowered the woman’s stocking. Ida’s ankle was swollen and showing early signs of bruising.

  Right away, Allie could see what the problem was. “The ankle’s broken.”

  Ida gasped. “Broken?”

  “It’s not serious, but it’ll take about a month to a month and a half to heal. If Travis has the things I need, then I can take care of it. Then you won’t have to go to the doctor.”

  Allie went over to Travis. He made a move to tilt his head away from her, but she reached up and took his hand and squeezed it. Her maneuver made his eyes widen as he glanced her way.

  “You have nothing to hide,” she whispered.

  His eyebrows furrowed.

  She smiled, and in a louder voice, she said, “You said you have bandages. Do you have something I can use as a splint so she won’t be able to move her ankle? Also, do you have something she can use to help her walk? She’ll need to stay off her ankle as much as possible for a while.”

  “Yes, I can make those things.”

  Make them? Oh, of course! She recalled the stacks of used items in the building. He had the materials on hand to make what she needed.

  “Do you know how long it’ll take to get them ready?” she asked.

  “I have bandages already, so I can get those to you now. But the splint will take about fifteen minutes to make. The crutch will take longer. Probably an hour or two.”

  “Bring the bandages when the splint’s ready.” Since he didn’t leave right away, she added, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  He shook his head. “I just want to make sure there’s nothing else you need.”

  “Not at the moment.” As he left the cottage, she thanked him then returned to Ida.

  Chapter Ten

  Travis’ heart was beating much too fast as he left the cottage. Allie had looked directly at him. She’d been curious about him. That much he knew. What he hadn’t expected was her response to his scars. Her gaze had gone to them, but it hadn’t stayed there. Sure, she’d said he had nothing to hide, but that did little to reassure him of anything. One of the girls from his hometown had told him that, too, before she brought him to meet her friends and asked him to take off his hat. Then she and all her friends had laughed at him.

  He didn’t think Allie was like that girl, but it still brought up enough of the memory, which made him uncomfortable. So it was with great relief that he headed for the barn to check on Carl. Carl, at least, was safe.

  Travis entered the barn just as Carl was putting the saddle away. “I could go back with you,” he told Carl. “In case the killer tries to threaten you again.”

  “No,” Carl replied. “I’m a grown man. Not a child. I need to deal with this myself. Besides, I got my rifle.”

  “Yes, but since you’ll be in a wagon, you can’t move out of the killer’s way quickly if he tries to shoot you.”

  “If he shoots, he shoots. Maybe it’ll put me out of my misery.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Travis called out as Carl was on his way out of the barn.

  Carl stopped and turned to him. “How do you know I don’t mean it? You think the worst thing that can happen to a man is that he gets scars on his face? Do you think you’re the only one who has to deal with the gossip in town? There are lots of things that can happen to make a man wonder if everything in his life is a huge waste of time.”

  “I know things aren’t pleasant for you in this town.” Especially not with the threat looming over his head. “But you can get out of here if you find the gold you’re looking for. Unlike me, you can start fresh in a new town. Your face is like any other man’s. My scars do matter. It’s why people say I’m a monster, and that doesn’t change no matter where I go.”

  Travis took a deep breath. He hadn’t intended to blurt that out. Looking away from Carl, he excused himself and passed him so he could go to the building. He still had to make that splint and crutch for Ida. Standing around and trying to convince Carl he still had it better than him—even with the other things going on—was pointless. Unless someone had to deal with the scars themselves, they’d never truly understand what he had to go through.

  “If having scars is the worst thing you have to worry about, you’re lucky,” Carl called out as he followed him.

  Travis’ steps slowed so Carl could catch up to him.

  And before Travis could speak, Carl continued, “I’d take scars any day over a worthless father who thought more of his illegitimate family than his real one. I’d also take them over the miserable woman he made me marry. I saw the way Allie looked at you when she saw your face, and she showed you far more concern than I ever received from Lydia. If that’s the kind of thing scars will get me, then I’ll gladly trade you.”

  Carl stared at him, as if he expected Travis to reply, but Travis didn’t know what to say. Travis’ father had been a good man, a decent man. Even to his dying day, he still loved Travis’ mother, and Travis never doubted his father’s love for him. Had it not been for his father, he didn’t know if he would have had the strength to keep going when everyone in town ridiculed him.

  As for Allie… Could it be true? Did she really mean it when she told him he had nothing to worry about? His looks hadn’t disgusted her?

  “Forget it,” Carl muttered. “Like Abe, you don’t realize how good you have it.”

  Travis thought to go after him while he climbed into the wagon. But what good would it do? Carl was upset, and after what he’d told Travis, Travis couldn’t blame him. Carl had scars, too. His scars just happened to be the kind people couldn’t see.

  Recalling the things Ida needed, Travis went to the building. He found an old piece of wood and whittled it down until it made a suitable splint for a woman’s ankle. Once he was done, he grabbed some bandages from the few medicinal supplies he had then carried the objects to the cottage.

  When he got there, he took a moment to look into the window. Allie was handing Ida a cup of coffee, and if he was right, she was making a pot of stew on the cookstove. His mouth watered. Allie had made stew last week, and it was one of the best meals he’d ever had. He wasn’t sure what seasonings she used to make it taste so good, but he couldn’t wait to have more of it.

  His gaze went back to Allie who had bent down to check on Ida’s ankle. Right. The bandages and splint. He went to the door and knocked on it.

  When Allie opened it, he had to resist the urge to lower his face so she wouldn’t see his scars. “I think the splint is the right size and shape for someone as small as Ida.”

  “Thank you, Travis.”

  She took the items from him, and he had to force himself to keep still when their fingers brushed because the contact made his skin tingle. He hadn’t experienced any such thing when he picked Ida up. The only other time he’d experienced this was when that girl had led hi
m over to her friends. She’d taken his hand, and like a fool, he’d thought it meant she was being nice to him.

  He shoved the memory aside and focused on Allie. “I’ll work on the crutch.” Then, before she could reply, he hurried back to the building.

  ***

  “Thank you for helping me,” Ida told her as Allie wrapped the bandages around the splint that was holding Ida’s ankle in place.

  “You’re welcome.” Allie smiled. “I’m glad Travis had the things we needed in his building. He has so many things out there it’s hard to make sense of them, but he seems to have everything.”

  “I’ve been afraid of your husband ever since he came here years ago. He always seemed more like a mystery than an actual person since people rarely ever see him. Until today, I never even saw his face.” She let out an uneasy chuckle. “You probably think that’s silly because he really isn’t scary after all.”

  “I don’t think it’s silly. I was scared when I first came here.” After a moment, Allie added, “I never came across anyone so terribly shy before.”

  “Do you think he’s more scared of us than we are of him?”

  “After seeing his face, I do. There was a boy back in my hometown of Tennessee who was attacked by a dog. The dog bit his ear off. I remember the boy was afraid people were going to make fun of him because of it, but the people were very supportive. Maybe Travis is afraid people will make fun of him because of the scars on his face.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” Ida thoughtfully stated. “If that’s the case, then it’s no wonder he hides from everyone the way he does.” She put her hand over her heart. “And people like me haven’t been any help, either.”

  “It’s easy to give into the rumors. The judge told me all sorts of stories about him that weren’t true, and I fell for them. I spent the entire wedding night terrified he’d hurt me.”

  “This isn’t going to be easy to admit, but I was one of the people spreading the lies about him.” She bit her lower lip. “I think I see what the sheriff’s been trying to teach me. Rumors really can be harmful.”

  Allie briefly recalled Caroline telling her that Eric had put Ida in jail for one night after Ida spread falsehoods about Caroline. At the time, Allie couldn’t believe a sheriff would do that to someone because of something like gossip, but this was a small town, and things could happen in small towns that weren’t accepted in larger ones.

  Now, as she studied the expression on Ida’s face, she suspected Ida was beginning to sincerely regret the rumors she’d spread through town. Maybe Travis’ act of kindness had done far more good than anything Eric could have done.

  “You know,” Allie began as she rose to her feet, “it’s not what we’ve done that matters as much as what we’re going to do. You can’t do anything about the past. You can only do something about the future.”

  Allie went over to the stew and stirred it, daring a glance outside the window, something that had become a habit ever since she came out here. Travis was still in the building. She wondered if he’d come in for supper this evening. Probably not. The idea was a silly one.

  With a sigh, she set the ladle down and returned to her guest. “Would you like more coffee?”

  “No, thank you. What you’ve given me is enough.”

  Allie decided to pour herself another cup. Maybe she should have invited Travis in to drink a cup with them. Sure, she’d asked him to make something to help Ida walk, and there was no doubt he was busy working on it. But she didn’t have to make him think he needed to do it right away. There was certainly time to spare for some coffee.

  Well, she could bring a cup out to him. Inspired, she poured him a cup. “I’m going to take this out to my husband,” she told Ida. “I’ll only be gone for a few minutes. Is there anything you need before I go?”

  Ida bit her lower lip. “It’s not my intention to impose on your hospitality, but I was wondering if I might stay here for the night? I’m so upset with my husband right now. If I see him, I’m likely to whack him on the head with a rolling pin.”

  Allie couldn’t help but chuckle at the image of Ida doing just that. Except Ida wouldn’t have to resort to using a rolling pin. She could use the crutch Travis was making her.

  “You’re more than welcome to stay tonight,” Allie said. “I’ll ask Travis to tell your husband that you’re fine.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your husband must be worried about you.”

  “Let him worry. It’d do him some good to remember that I’m important to him,” Ida said. “He’s taken me for granted for years. If he thinks something horrible happened to me, maybe he’ll appreciate me again.”

  Noting the pain in the woman’s expression, Allie relented. “Alright. I won’t ask Travis to talk to your husband tonight.” Maybe tomorrow, Ida would be more inclined to let her husband know she was fine. “Do you mind if I take this to Travis?” She gestured to the cup in her hand.

  “Oh, I don’t mind at all.”

  Anxious to have an excuse to talk to Travis, Allie told her she’d be back soon and left the cottage.

  ***

  Travis caught sight of Allie heading toward the building and stiffened. Why was she coming for the crutch so soon? He’d told her it might take an hour or two to make. He glanced at the lumber on the worktable. It wasn’t anywhere near to being done.

  The knocking at the door made him jump. It shouldn’t have. He knew she was coming. And yet, he had no idea what he should do next.

  “Travis?” she called from the other side. “I brought you something to drink.”

  He hesitated. Did he really want to let her in? He released his breath. Yes, he did. But was it a wise move to open himself up to someone who had the potential to hurt him?

  How do you know she’d hurt you?

  Because everyone else has done it.

  Your father didn’t.

  He was different. He was my father. I was a part of him.

  Aren’t you a part of Allie? Your father taught you that when a man married, he became one with his wife.

  The doorknob turned, and Allie poked her head inside. When her gaze rested on him, she said, “I wanted to bring you a cup of coffee.” Then, as if she needed to prove her point, she lifted the cup and showed it to him. “I thought you might be thirsty.”

  He cleared his throat then gestured to the small table by the door. “Alright.”

  But she didn’t put it on the table and leave, as he’d hoped she would. Instead, she came into the building and closed the door behind her, an indication she meant to stay. She hadn’t done this before. In fact, she hadn’t even opened the door until now. And he didn’t know whether to panic or be relieved. It was difficult to balance the need for safety with the need to rid himself of the aching loneliness that had been hovering over his life ever since his father died.

  When she reached him, she held the cup out to him, her lips curling up into a smile. She sure was pretty when she smiled. Well, she was pretty, regardless, but it seemed to him that she was especially so when she smiled.

  “You have nothing to be afraid of,” she said. “I made sure not to put in too much water this time. The coffee actually tastes good.”

  Recalling the cup she’d left him that morning, he felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Honestly, he hadn’t minded it. Watered down coffee was the least of his worries.

  Since he didn’t take the cup, she set it on the worktable next to the crutch he was making. She scanned the room. “I think it’s marvelous how you can create such beautiful things from all of this.” She motioned to everything in the room. “And not only are they beautiful, but they’re good quality, too. Why, those kitchen chairs are the most comfortable I’ve ever been on. You have a wonderful gift.”

  Again, he didn’t know how to respond. Maybe if he’d had more social interactions with people, this wouldn’t be so awkward. But for that to be the case, he would have had to look like everyone else.

 
She turned her attention back to the crutch he was crafting. “Will you show me how you’re going to make this?”

  Show her? Was she serious? He hardly believed it was something that would interest a woman.

  Maybe she’s trying to be nice. Maybe she wants to get to know you. Maybe she really meant it when she said you have nothing to worry about, that she can accept you despite your appearance.

  When she looked expectantly at him, he swallowed the lump in his throat and picked up the knife he’d been using to shape the crutch. His hand was shaking. This wasn’t good. He did his best work when he wasn’t nervous.

  But she was patiently waiting, her hands folded in front of her and that same beautiful smile on her face. He didn’t think she’d leave until he did as she wished. Well…maybe she’d grow bored of watching him and go back to the cottage.

  He took a deep breath. He could do this. If he pretended he was alone, he might be able to calm his nerves enough so he’d stop trembling. Gripping the knife, he brought it to the wood and carved into it. The shavings fell to the worktable effortlessly. How he wished talking to people could be as easy as crafting a piece of wood into the shape he wanted.

  “What do you do with those?” she asked.

  He had to look at her so he could figure out what she was talking about. She was pointing to the wood shavings.

  “I burn them,” he finally replied, wincing when he caught the way his voice shook. Yes, there was no doubt about it. He had a much easier time working with things than communicating with people.

  “How often do you burn things?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I think I do it a few times a year.”

  “I think it’s an efficient way of handling your garbage. Most of the people I’ve talked to bury their trash. I think that’s what they do in this town. Am I right?”

  He nodded.