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

by Heather Horrocks

  She wished that Daniel, himself, would offer for her, because she was finding herself more and more intrigued with him.

  In fact, she could easily fall for him.

  And that would be a disaster, because he only saw her as a charity case—poor Violet Keating who was jilted and needs a replacement husband—while she looked on him with admiration and... longing. Such longing her heart ached with it.

  She had best squelch that if she were to succeed here in Minot, here in the Lund Woodworking family business.

  She now had a job. She had a place to live. Her life was more secure than it had been for a long time.

  She looked up to see all three brothers studying her with varying degrees of interest.

  Flushing, she said, “I’d better get back to the books.”

  I need to get Violet married off more quickly so I can focus on my work.

  (Journal Entry, Daniel Lund, October 22, 1890)

  Disgusted, Daniel pulled his horses to a stop and stared at the customer going into their store. Shaking his head, he climbed out to grab the boxes of hinges he’d bought at the hardware store.

  Were there any men left in town who had not stopped by the store since Violet starting working here? Because there was yet another male opening the door and striding in. Not that he had anything against customers. Normally he loved them. But men had been pouring in for the past week.

  An entire week of torture for Daniel.

  And had these men come to order furniture? Some of them, certainly. But most of them were here because the face of Lund Woodworking was now Violet, pretty and smiling and friendly. And efficient. If he could fault her work, he would have an excuse to get her out of here and back to Amelia’s house. Here, she was a torture every day, every hour, every minute.

  And he had only himself to blame. He’d been the one with the harebrained idea to show her off to the entire town so that men would come calling. And come calling they had. In droves.

  He just hadn’t realized what an insane amount of jealousy he’d have to deal with. She wasn’t his—couldn’t be his—and yet he didn’t want anyone else to have her, either.

  They’d had no fewer than ten men come in every day. Single men who took time away from their shops and snow-covered fields and the other ladies in town to meet Violet.

  While Daniel had had virtually no time alone with her at all, more’s the trouble. He drove her to work in the mornings and back home in the evenings under the northern lights, but only had the chance for a few words with her before she turned the sign on the door to OPEN and men started flooding in again.

  He hefted the first box and strode to the front door, balancing it while he pulled the door open and walking through the main room and into the back to get away from the sight.

  He kicked the door shut behind him with a solid thunk, and his father and brother looked up.

  “You’re still frowning,” said a grinning Zachary. “That must mean there are more men here to visit with our lovely new bookkeeper. Your plan is working.”

  “Shut up.” Daniel dropped the box onto the longest work bench, the one along the back wall, and cut it open.

  Then he shook his head. He needed to hit something. Picking up his hammer, he turned to look for a project that needed nails. He spotted the cedar chest and headed in that direction.

  His father came up beside him and tapped him on the back.

  When Daniel looked up in surprise, his father put his hand out for the hammer. “I think in your current mood, you need to do tasks without the potential for damage. Glue the bench.”

  “I did that yesterday.”

  “Yes, and you did such a fine job you can now do the new one we have.” He wiggled his large fingers again for the hammer. “This is fine cedar and we don’t need you hammering the dickens out of it.”

  Daniel scowled, but relinquished the tool.

  His father chuckled. “You ought to go after the girl yourself, Son, as much as you mope about because other men are not so reluctant.”

  “You know I am too old for her. She’s still a child.”

  “Not a child, Brother. A woman.” Tom’s face grew pensive. “Perhaps I will court her, myself.”

  “You will not!” Daniel thundered. “You will stay away from her.”

  “Why? She is not spoken for yet.”

  Enraged, Daniel sputtered, “I need to go to the train station and see if our order has arrived.”

  “Yes, you do that.” His father put a muscular arm about his shoulders. “And don’t hurry back. We can handle things for a while. Stop at your mother’s and eat something. Maybe that will improve your disposition.”

  Daniel scowled. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Then stop into the saloon and drink your troubles away,” Zachary suggested.

  So angry he feared he would hurt one of his idiot brothers, he put up a hand, motioning for them to stay silent, and grabbed his coat back up from the bench.

  He couldn’t even go through the front because he might hurt someone there.

  He had nearly reached the door to the back alley when his father said, “Son, would you take this to Miss Keating on your way out?”

  He stopped. Surely his father jested. But no, he pointed to a pretty box made of gleaming lacquered cherrywood.

  His face settling into a serious scowl, Daniel stomped back over and snatched up the box.

  His father said, “Don’t scare the girl, Son.”

  Tom laughed. “Do scare her. That will make me look even better in comparison.”

  Fighting back a snarl, Daniel opened the door to the front.

  It was, miraculously, empty of men at the moment. That wouldn’t last long, he was sure.

  At the sound of his footsteps, Violet looked up with her toffee-brown eyes, and teased him with her smile.

  His heart would have warmed, if it wasn’t already a thousand degrees of hot anger.

  He held out the box to her. She tipped her head and took it. “Thank you, Mr. Lund.”

  He gritted his teeth and nodded, still unable to speak.

  Turning, he opened the door and left the building.

  Only to find two brothers coming up the walk. Both single men about Tom’s age. Both smiling, no doubt in anticipation.

  “Good morning to you, Daniel,” the first said.

  “We’ve come to meet your new helper,” said the second. “We hear she’s a beauty.”

  Daniel nodded, still not daring to speak, barely able to resist knocking them to the ground.

  He stomped his way to the wagon, drove to the train station. The package hadn’t yet arrived, so, still fuming mad, he drove to his mother’s house and went straight to the backyard, where he began to chop wood for her fire.

  By the time he’d burned through his anger, there was a lot of firewood stacked neatly.

  It was nearly noon. He’d been taking his meals with the others at the business, but today he’d let his mother feed him.

  And then maybe he needed to find tasks that would take him out of town for a while. He wasn’t sure how many more days of this torture he could stand.

  Zachary thinks I’m pretty. I wish Daniel thought the same.

  (Journal Entry, Violet Keating, October 22, 1890)

  TWO UNFAMILIAR MEN ARRIVED JUST after Daniel left, big smiles on their friendly faces. They informed her they were brothers and wanted to order a comfortable chair for their mother’s home. She’d taken the order and they had flirted with her before finally departing.

  Others had come and gone, in a seemingly endless stream. As the latest group—three dandies—opened the door to leave, Zachary peeked his head around the door and laughed. “You’re going to double our business just by sitting there and looking pretty.”

  She smiled at him. “You think I’m pretty?”

  He walked into the room and rummaged through some papers, then said, “Ah-hah!” and pulled one out, leaving the others in only slight disarray.

  “Every man
in town thinks you’re pretty.” He turned to her and leaned on the counter. “Including my idiot brother.”

  “Daniel?”

  “The very idiot I was thinking of.”

  “He’s helping me find a husband, you know.”

  “I know. Have you noticed that he doesn’t like anyone who actually wants to be your new husband?”

  Hearing Zachary speak aloud the very thoughts she’d been having made her heart race a little. “He does tend to tell me about their flaws after I meet them. And that is for the small percentage he supposedly approves of.”

  “Yes. And my brother’s flaw is that he got burned once by a woman, and now he’s afraid.”

  Daniel? Afraid? That was hard to fathom. “What is he afraid of?”

  “Getting hurt again. Any woman who wants to win my brother will need to get past that fear.”

  The bell over the door tinkled, and they both turned to see Daniel returning. He stopped and scowled at his brother.

  Zachary simply smiled. “And what would you say my flaw is, brother?”

  “Your inability to stay focused on a task,” Daniel said. “Go help Father close up the back.”

  Zachary paused as if considering, then gave a sharp military-style salute. “We will continue our chat at a later date,” he promised Violet, retreating to the back room.

  Daniel stared after him, shook his head, and then turned back, locking the door and flipping the sign to CLOSED.

  Violet studied him. When he turned his intense gaze to her, she smiled at him. “I have a favor to ask, Mr. Lund.”

  He stepped closer, looking like a huge, cozy bear in his warm coat. “What is that?”

  “It is such a beautiful night and I can see the first flickers of the northern lights. Would you mind walking me home tonight rather than driving me? I would like to see more of the lights.”

  Emotions flickered across his stony face, and she kept quiet. Finally, he nodded. “Yes, but we will need to walk fast as it is cold outside. And I’ll ask Tom to take care of the wagon.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her heart catching as she watched him disappear into the back.

  Daniel was like a prickly porcupine. But even porcupines needed love.

  Love?

  Now where on earth had that come from?

  I walked with Miss Keating tonight under the borealis sky. Her presence is intoxicating, and I fear I cannot get enough of being around her. That does not bode well for me.

  (Journal Entry, Daniel Lund, October 22, 1890)

  Daniel walked beside Violet, grateful for the cold so they were each bundled up to keep warm. Otherwise, he’d have been tempted to hug her tightly to him, to touch her cheek, to kiss her.

  He hadn’t felt that way since... Opal.

  That thought should frighten him, send him walking—no, running—away in fear. Except that Violet was nothing like Opal. He was more wary now and more aware of the signs—and he hadn’t noticed any of those signs in Violet, which made it doubly hard to push her away. She was warm and friendly and genuine to all she met. As they walked, she talked of how welcoming everyone in Minot was and even elicited responses from him. He wanted to stay distant emotionally, but he had no defenses against her.

  “Oh, look!” Violet said in a hushed tone as she stopped and pointed up toward the blueish-greenish northern lights playing in the sky above them. “That is so beautiful!”

  He looked up and drew in a deep breath. He’d lived here his whole life, and he tended to take the light display for granted. But with her pointing them out with that tone of reverence in her voice—well, it got a man to thinking.

  She turned a full circle, slowly, her eyes to the sky, awe in her face.

  He closed his eyes. She was like a fairy creature, enchanting everyone around her. Enchanting him. He’d never wanted any woman as he wanted her. And it broke his heart to have no claim on her.

  Tonight the sky was full of beautiful hues of blue, with smaller swirls of green and purple, flickering, shimmering, lighting the sky in all directions.

  It was a beautiful light display—and yet he found his gaze drawn to the beautiful face beside him.

  Finally, Violet lowered her eyes to meet his gaze. “Amelia said your house is just a block from hers.” It was a question.

  A shiver ran through him—and it wasn’t from the cold. In fact, he was feeling warmer and warmer by the moment. “Yes.”

  “And your father said I should see the improvements you’ve made on it.”

  His heart raced. “Yes.”

  She touched his coat sleeve. “Would you show me? I’d love to see your house.”

  He paused, very much wanting to show her and see her reaction to his work. But he didn’t dare. He could barely keep his hands off of her on a public street. “It’s not appropriate, but I’ll introduce you to my dog.”

  She laughed brightly. “Will your dog want to marry me, too?”

  He chuckled. “Duke will want to adopt you.”

  “Why don’t you bring him to work with you?”

  “Actually, he’s gotten pretty old and likes to rest on his cushion in his doghouse on my back porch. It’s enclosed so he stays warm. And my neighbor checks on him during the day. Everybody loves old Duke.”

  “I’d love to meet him. I had a dog when I was growing up. I miss her.”

  “We’ll need to ask Amelia to come with us. For propriety’s sake. And it would be best to do it in the light of day, so you can see what I’ve done.”

  She nodded. “All right. Thank you, then, for walking me home.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he said, watching her disappear into his sister’s house.

  He lifted his eyes to the skies once more. They really were spectacular. And more so with Violet by his side.

  He took one last glance toward the house, and started walking toward his own.

  He was smitten by Violet. Attracted to her physically. Compelled to protect her.

  He had to get her married off—and soon—or he would go mad.

  Dear Violet,

  I am enclosing this letter in care of Mr. Nathaniel James Evans of Minot, North Dakota. I hope it reaches you in a timely manner. I’m assuming you are happily married by now. Please send details of your wedding, your new life, and your new situation. You’ll be surprised to learn that I myself am unwed. When I arrived here, the groom refused to marry me. Remember Mr. Buchanan’s insistence that he wanted an unattractive bride? Well, he meant it. Though honesty forces me to admit that he has now proposed in earnest. And, in fact, is making quite a nuisance of himself in recent days. As I already have a job secured now and in the future, I’ve turned him down. I do believe it’s for the best. I quite like the city of Keene. It’s beautiful here, lots of trees, and some of the architecture is amazing! Big brick buildings, stone structures, and lovely houses. The town is well cared for, and the citizens are very nice. I am staying with Reverend Gentry and his wife. More generous people you cannot imagine. And the food. To have all I want is like a miracle. I don’t doubt I’ll be plump in no time. The leaves are turning and are absolutely gorgeous in color, so many hues you can’t believe it. Even on the train ride out it was hard to take my eyes off the scenery. At the moment, I am acting as a governess to Mr. Buchanan’s daughter, Cassie. When Mr. Buchanan’s new bride arrives, I will be working at the mercantile in town. I miss you and all the girls. Even the cramped room we shared. Is it odd to be homesick for all that? Sir Lancelot has fared well here, too. He’s very spoiled. I hope all goes well with you, but will feel much better if you inform me of all that has happened.

  Your loving friend, Rachel West

  (Letter mailed October 18, 1890, and delivered—after a day of confusion over the address—October 23, 1890)

  THE NEXT DAY, VIOLET RECEIVED a letter from Rachel. As she read it, she wondered how she could possibly respond without revealing the embarrassing circumstances in which she found herself. Rachel seemed to have plenty of problems of her own, bu
t she was sure they would work out. At least her groom had not run from her.

  What could she say to her friend? Certainly not the truth, for the mere thought of Rachel—or anyone—knowing she had a runaway groom was far too embarrassing. But how could she word her response so she didn’t actually lie, but perhaps just left out a few of the details?

  “My brother is a dolt.”

  Startled, Violet raised her eyes from Rachel’s letter to Amelia. “What?”

  They were alone in the house. Sven had to work late, long after dark, tonight.

  “You heard me.” Amelia, sitting across from Violet, sat back in her chair. “You like him, right?”

  “You have three brothers. Which one do you mean?” But she knew.

  “They’re all dolts.” Amelia smiled slowly. “But you know which one I am referring to.”

  Yes, she did. Not sure where Amelia was going with this, Violet said, tentatively, “Yes, I like him.”

  “I thought so. And he likes you, too. He’s just too stupid to realize it. But there are ways to get around that—and I know them all.” She stopped, her face pretty in the lamplight. “Do you like him enough that you would consider him as a potential husband?”

  Her face flashing warm, Violet paused. Could she reveal herself to Amelia? After a moment, she said, her voice quiet, “Yes.”

  “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You are now going to secretly court the stupidest man in town.”

  Violet couldn’t help but laugh. “You make him sound so tempting. How could I resist an offer like that?”

  “Daniel Lund is a good man. He is loyal, protective—overprotective, if you ask his younger sister. He builds beautiful furniture, takes care of his mother and father, and helps people in need. He loves children. And he earns a good wage with his woodworking skills.” Amelia paused, then smiled mischievously. “And he’s handsome, too.”