Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39)

by Heather Horrocks

  He lifted his head and smiled at the owner, Emil. Then he introduced her, and the old coot came out and kissed her hand, as if he were a serious contender!

  The other three fellows came over, one by one, and he introduced them.

  All four showed interest—especially when Daniel mentioned she was a single lady of breeding and character.

  He hated the twinge of jealousy gnawing at him. But he couldn’t marry her, himself. He should be happy his plan was working. But, no, he wasn’t happy.

  But he would help her find happiness.

  Gregor ran his gaze over Violet, and a slow smile spread over his face.

  And Daniel clenched his fists. Why did it matter if Gregor liked her? That was the whole point, to find Violet a husband. So why did he want to cram his fist down the other man’s face, to wipe off that infernal smile?

  Gregor took her hand and lowered his face until he kissed it, holding it too long and releasing it only reluctantly. “I would be most honored to call on you, if I may.”

  Violet flashed an uncertain glance at Daniel. What could he do? This was his insane plan, after all. When he nodded, with a frown, she turned to Gregor and gave him a tentative smile. “I would be pleased if you did.”

  Daniel clenched his fists. He must repress the feelings rising within him.

  What if Gregor won her heart? Unfortunately, even if it wasn’t Gregor, it would be someone. And then Daniel would avoid gatherings as much as possible so he wouldn’t need to see her with another man.

  Finally, Daniel could take no more. “We’d best be moving on.”

  Violet followed him from the general store. Outside, Violet said. “Mr. Koch seemed like a gentleman. I’m glad you know these men, as they all seem like good men to me. And yet you knew Gregor Koch was the best man for a husband.”

  “Well, in total honesty,” he admitted, not too reluctantly. “Gregor does tend to spend excessive time trying to please his mother, who is demanding and would make a poor mother-in-law. Perhaps we’d best keep looking.”

  My feet are sore from walking so much today—and, even worse, my soul is sore from having men study me as a potential future wife, as though I were livestock. Did they think me fit for breeding, I wonder. At least they did not check my teeth.

  (Journal Entry, Violet Keating, October 16, 1890)

  Violet’s feet had started aching, but she continued to follow Daniel. He’d kept her busy for much of the day.

  When Daniel Lund said he would help you with something, he meant it.

  After the General Store, he had taken her to other businesses, including restaurants, animal feed stores, and the post office. She’d met several men who seemed interested in her, and who had asked if they might call on her. Each time, she got mixed signals from Daniel—he would nod while frowning.

  Now she sat beside Daniel while he guided the horses back toward Amelia’s. He was still frowning, but why? His plan was working. He’d introduced her to at least thirty gentlemen, at least seven of whom were men he’d approved of.

  Funny thing, though, he’d been able to name something negative about each of them—even those seven. Maybe especially those seven.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He whipped his gaze around at her. “For what?”

  “For being willing to help me. It means a lot to me.”

  “Oh.” And he settled back into his staring-straight-ahead-while-frowning position.

  She risked another glance at him. His profile was sharp, his lips in a tight downward line. Her heart softened.

  He glanced over at her, and she smiled at him. She saw the sparkle in his eyes and the quick lifting of his lips, and then he looked ahead again, and she had to wonder—Why not him?

  She didn’t know him well enough to ask anything, but he obviously was affected by her presence. What was wrong with her that he didn’t even consider courting her?

  She drew the blanket up close about her and looked to the side.

  She wasn’t very old, but she’d already learned that life was unfair and rarely offered up favorable options.

  This situation was no different.

  I haven’t seen that look on my son’s face for a decade. This young girl who is here to marry James Evans has caught the eye of my Daniel. I hope something comes of it, for she seems a sweet little thing.

  (Journal Entry, Brenna Lund, October 16, 1890)

  Violet had never felt welcomed so quickly in all her life as while sitting around Daniel’s parents’ dining table. The entire family—Daniel, Amelia and Sven, their mother Brenna and father Gabriel, and younger brothers Tom and Zachary—had accepted her as part of the family, for however long that might last, and that meant the world to her.

  Brenna Lund had outdone herself with this feast. Swedish meatballs in a rich sauce, served over boiled potatoes with lingonberry preserves, pickled beets, sweet-and-sour red cabbage, and apple pie still ahead for dessert.

  Daniel’s mother sat at one end of the table and Daniel, at his mother’s request, at the other. Violet had been seated across from Daniel, though he’d hardly met her gaze all through the meal. Amelia sat next to her and Sven on her other side, and opposite them, next to Daniel, sat his two younger brothers.

  Brenna said, “So what do you think of our fair town so far, Miss Keating?”

  Violet smiled. “It is lovely. With the snow covering everything in a blanket of white, it looks angelic.”

  “Except where the horses trod, and that is not so angelic,” muttered Daniel.

  Violet went on. “And I met so many good-hearted people who made me feel welcome. Just as you have all done. I must thank you again.”

  Brenna and Amelia both gushed over her, telling her they were glad to do it.

  Zachary, who Violet had learned was twenty-two, lifted a meatball on his fork. “This meal is well prepared, Mother.”

  Brenna nodded. “Thank you.”

  Violet ate more of the delicious meatballs, grateful to fill her belly with warmth. The day had been cold, and it had settled into her bones as they rode around town. Between the fireplace in Brenna’s living room and the oven in her kitchen, she felt as though she were beginning to thaw. Plus the mug of hot cocoa had done an amazing job of warming her hands.

  Amelia said, “So how did the plan work today, Daniel?”

  “Plan?” Brenna asked, curious.

  “Well enough.” Daniel’s face flushed red, which Violet found endearing, and he shook his head. “But we don’t need to speak of that now.”

  “What plan?” Gabriel repeated his wife’s words, while also raising just one eyebrow.

  Daniel took another bite of his meatballs. Then, since everyone was still quiet and watching him expectantly, he reluctantly told Violet, “I want to take you to our workshop tomorrow and introduce you to some of the customers.”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  “But what are you up to, brother?” asked Tom with narrowed eyes. The middle son, Tom was twenty-five, and the tallest of the three, though more slender than his brothers.

  “Nothing,” Daniel insisted.

  Amelia said, smiling sweetly at her brother. “Daniel is helping Violet find a husband among the men of our town.”

  Brenna raised an eyebrow. “Truly?”

  Amelia nodded.

  Zachary and Tom set down their forks and exchanged glances, then studied her.

  Brenna patted Violet’s hand. “It will not be a hard task, for you are a delightful child with a wonderful heart.”

  Violet smiled at her. “But surely men are looking for more than a wonderful heart.”

  Amelia nodded. “I hope you know how to cook and clean, for you’ll need those skills.”

  “I’ve cooked my share of meals, and cleaned.”

  “Did you have a job or did you live at home?” Brenna asked.

  “I lived at home...” Violet paused. She normally didn’t tell this tale, but they had been so kind to her. So she said, “Until my parents
died in an accident. After that, I had just enough money to move in with a friend’s family long enough to get a job as a seamstress at the Brown Textile Mill. That’s where I met my dear friend Rachel West and I began to room with her. Unfortunately, the factory burned down under what seemed like suspicious circumstances. No one was hurt, thank goodness, but there was nothing left of the building.”

  Brenna’s brow furrowed in sympathy. “You poor child. You’ve certainly had more than your share of hardship—and so young.”

  It certainly seemed that way to Violet, who lifted her fork and took a bite of the potatoes and sauce. “This truly is delicious, Mrs. Lund.”

  “Please call me Brenna, child.”

  “Thank you, Brenna. And you must call me Violet, as must you all.”

  Daniel raised his eyes to hers then, and caught her in his gaze until she could hardly breathe.

  Amelia said, “Please pass the potatoes, Violet.”

  That snapped her out of it, and Daniel looked away. Why would Violet feel a loss at that? Why did it matter what this man thought?

  The northern lights swirled outside the window, just as the conversation swirled about her, warm and loving and funny. Violet’s heart was full in this moment, and the homesickness she’d felt since she left Massachusetts—since her parents had died—had faded.

  She looked at Daniel—and found him watching her. But then, so quickly she almost didn’t know if he’d really been looking at her, he jerked his gaze away. So quickly it ripped at her heart.

  Looking at his handsome, strong profile, she wondered what he truly thought of her. He was obviously attracted to her—but just as obviously didn’t want to be. Somehow he found her lacking, and she wished she knew why.

  Perhaps she’d misread his interest in her earlier. Perhaps he really wasn’t interested in her at all, and was uncomfortable because she was looking at him. Perhaps she needed to concentrate on the other men in town.

  And, if God and luck were on her side, soon she would meet a man who would want her.

  She really needed to be wanted.

  She took her gaze off of Daniel Lund and smiled at his younger brother Zachary, who was telling a funny story about chasing a turkey part way through town. At least she assumed it was funny because the others were laughing.

  She would lose herself in the kindness and fun of this family for as long as she stayed here.

  She would also try to ignore the prickly confirmed bachelor in their midst, beginning to understand why he’d never married.

  This young girl is willing to help out at the shop, pretty enough to please the customers, smart enough to do the books that I despise—and she has the attention of my son. I hope she stays around.

  (Journal Entry, Gabriel Lund, October 17, 1890)

  THE NEXT MORNING, DANIEL ARRIVED at Amelia’s with his wagon and drove her to his family’s business only two blocks from his parents’ home. The large, sturdily constructed log building had a sign over the door with the same business name that was also painted on the side of the wagon: Lund Woodworking.

  He led her inside into a large room with seats along the front window for customers to use while they waited, she presumed. A gleaming wooden counter stood ten feet inside the door, separating the waiting area from the shelves behind filled with files and records.

  Daniel’s father perched on a stool behind the counter, a frown on his face. As he looked up and caught sight of her, his face lit up in a smile. “Miss Violet, I’m so glad you’ve come.”

  She smiled back at Gabriel. “I’m excited to see your building.”

  He motioned to his son. “Show her the operation, Daniel. And be sure to show her the table you just made.”

  Behind the counter was a wall with a door. Daniel led the way through into another room, this one much larger. It contained tables and workbenches and tools and furniture in various stages of completion. In the center of the room was a gorgeous, finely crafted dining room table and chairs. She was drawn to it, touched its rich, gleaming wood, and looked at him, surprised. “You made this?”

  “Guilty,” he said, but he couldn’t hide his pleasure at her words.

  “I’m impressed.”

  Daniel smiled proudly. “My father has created a good shop here.”

  “I think you and Tom and Zachary helped.”

  He nodded, looking pleased at her words. “We work hard.” He walked her around the perimeter of the room, pointing out the various projects—a door frame and door, a sofa in the process of having cushioning installed.

  Tom pushed a tool back and forth, shaving thin pieces of wood onto the floor. When he spotted her, he stopped and said, “It’s good to see you again, Miss Violet.”

  “And you, Tom.” She motioned about her. “I’m impressed. You gentlemen make just about anything, don’t you?”

  Tom laughed and Daniel frowned. “People ask if we can do this or that—and my father always says yes, even if we never have before.”

  “And we always do it,” Zachary said with a laugh.

  Violet laughed with the two brothers.

  “Let’s go back to the office,” Daniel said, abruptly, and opened the door for her.

  She stepped through and Gabriel looked up. “What do you think?”

  “That’s it’s marvelous. And I think it is even better because your sons work with you.”

  Gabriel grinned. And then his grin faded as he motioned toward the counter. “If I’d had a son—or daughter—who could make the accounts balance, that would truly be marvelous.”

  Daniel explained, “Our bookkeeper moved west, and none of us is any good at it.”

  “And I have a discrepancy that I cannot find.”

  “I helped with my father’s books and also occasionally with the books at the mill. Perhaps I could help, if you would allow me. It would be small repayment for all your family is doing for me.”

  Gabriel vacated the stool and motioned grandly to it. “Show us what you can do.”

  Violet climbed up on the tall stool and perched on the top, glancing at the papers on the counter. “Give me an hour and I will see if I can find your discrepancy.”

  Gabriel exchanged looks with Daniel and then grinned. “If you do, I will hire you on the spot. If you’ll take the job.”

  Her heart caught. A job would give her money on which to live. She needed one, if she were not to wed. Or until she wed. Yes, that was more accurate. She could also pay Amelia and Sven at least something for the food she ate.

  “I would be honored to help out.”

  “I will pay you.”

  “Your family is already doing so much.”

  “I insist,” Gabriel said. “I couldn’t in good conscience do anything else.”

  “You can’t win an argument with my father, Miss Violet. Believe me, I’ve tried,” Daniel said. “Just give in quickly and graciously. It’s for the best.”

  Violet smiled up at him, and then at Gabriel. “All right. I will gladly accept your kind offer—if I am able to find the discrepancy.”

  Gabriel grinned. “Good. Now I can go back to the woodwork.” He said the words with obvious relief. “And I’ll make sure my sons are working.”

  Violet settled in on the stool, pulling the ledger closer to her. Now this was something she felt at home doing. With a sense of relief, she delved into the numbers. It took her a good hour before she caught a sense of the quirky Lund system, and another hour before she found the figure that had eluded Gabriel. “Ah-hah. There you are.”

  She climbed off the stool and stretched, and went to find Gabriel. In the back room, he looked up—as did the three brothers, though only Daniel’s gaze snagged hers every single time—with a questioning look on his face. “Were you able to find it?”

  “I did.” She couldn’t resist grinning. “It was in the invoice for the Elgin family. You billed them correctly, but the amount was entered incorrectly onto the ledger.”

  Gabriel leaned back against the work bench, crossed
his arms, and studied her. “You will work for me, right? Because I am terrible at bookkeeping and my sons got that same inability from me. Brenna doesn’t have the knack for it, either.”

  Happy to be included, Violet nodded. “Of course I will.”

  Gabriel nodded and uncrossed his arms. “Well, then, welcome to the family business, and thus the family.”

  His words touched her heart. “Thank you.”

  Daniel nodded. “You’ll brighten up this office, that’s for sure.”

  Zachary did an actual cartwheel, ending up in front of her. He took her hand, bowed like a courtier, and pressed it to his chest for a moment, drawing in a deep, melodramatic breath before releasing it. “You certainly brighten up the workshop.” And he winked at her.

  She laughed. “Thank you.”

  Tom punched his younger brother in the arm, hard enough to knock him off balance so Zachary had to take a step to the right. “Ignore Zachary. He forgets how to be polite at times.”

  Daniel growled, “Ignore both my brothers.”

  Gabriel snorted. “Ignore all three of my sons.”

  They teased back and forth for a few minutes—said teasing involving several more punches and mock punches—until finally their father said, “Enough, boys. Miss Keating will think I didn’t raise you proper. Now, Miss Keating, what do you think of this table Daniel made?”

  She studied it again, appreciating the beauty of it. “I think it is fine workmanship.”

  Gabriel nodded. “You should see what he’s done to his house.”

  “I’d love to see it sometime.” She caught Daniel’s gaze.

  He paused, then nodded. “I’ll take you there sometime.”

  “With your sister tagging along,” his father said with a meaningful look at his son.

  “Of course,” Daniel said. “We don’t want to sully Miss Keating’s reputation when we are searching for a husband for her.”

  A husband. After yesterday’s frantic round of introductions, Daniel hadn’t mentioned going out again. As long as Amelia and Sven were willing to have her stay and she had a job, Violet was willing to put off being on display. She hadn’t enjoyed having her face and figure on display, for these men couldn’t possibly see past that to her real self.