April dug through the box and found more letters from the same woman, as well as another set of letters from a woman in Delaware. The dates on all of the subsequent letters were just as incriminating, and the content of the messages was even worse still.
Apparently, from what the other women had written Miles, he had “sweet talked” them too. He must have told them about his interests in playing music and dancing and discussed his travels, because the other women had mentioned those things in their letters too, just as April had.
After reading several more pages of romantic, sappy words, April had had enough. She didn’t know exactly what Miles had been up to, or why, but she knew that he’d been up to no good and that she’d completely misjudged him from the start.
As she turned back from the box of letters that she and the two other women had sent Miles and returned her gaze to the letter she was penning to her Aunt Beth, April had a moment of realization, and epiphany of sorts.
To put it simply, she was overwhelmed with embarrassment. How could she have been so foolish? She tried imagining what Aunt Beth—or Mrs. Wilson, or the baker—would say when she told them what happened. Sure, they’d likely feel sorry for how she’d been deceived. But, they’d likely also think she’d had something to do with it too. They’d probably think it was at least partially her fault that she was so easily mislead—and, perhaps, it was. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so starry-eyed and preoccupied with adventure she would’ve acted more mindfully and made sure that every detail was in order in Texas before leaving things in Pennsylvania behind.
And how could she go back to Pennsylvania in any event? She’d be the laughing stock of the town once wind of this all got loose, and she’d have so many people to explain her return to… including her niece Jessica.
Jessica! April thought to herself in alarm. How on earth could she explain any of this to Jessica? After years of encouraging her niece to chase her dreams, how could April tell Jessica that she’d chased her own dream only to have it turn into a nightmare? What kind of message would that send the young girl? It would tell her that dreams weren’t worth chasing—and, even though this one had turned out to be a nightmare, that wasn’t a message that April wanted to send.
April looked down at the letter she’d been writing to Aunt Beth and grabbed hold of it, then crinkled it into a ball in her hand. There was no way she could finish what she’d started to write… and no way she could return to Pennsylvania. She’d made her decision to leave, said her goodbyes, and set out to live her own life—and, that’s what she was going to do. She just needed to figure out how, now that so much had changed.
SEVEN
“We were just boys when our mother died,” George explained, spearing the food that was left on his plate with his fork. “I was 12, and Miles was 9.”
“I’m very sorry to hear,” April replied, bowing her head. She’d been staring at an old painting that hung on the wall in George’s house while the two of them were eating supper, and his comments were meant to explain the female subject of the portrait.
“Our father was ill-equipped to take care of us after she passed,” George went on, swallowing his food. “So, I basically raised Miles from that point on—and, believe you me, it was a lot of hard work.”
George chuckled and took another forkful of food. April looked down at her plate, then to the painting again. She was very hungry, mind you, but whatever this “stew” was that George had served her, it tasted like it should’ve wound up in the garbage pail rather than on a plate.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to take a small bite. She would need all her energy and frankly, she hadn’t set aside all propriety and sat down to dine alone with a strange man, just to leave with an empty stomach.
“He got into a lot of trouble as a kid,” George laughed. “And, the trouble kept following him into adulthood as well. I’ve had to clean up after plenty of his messes over the years. Just like last month, when he blew town—the tavern owner came to me looking for reparations, and, sure enough, I paid part… which leads me to you.”
“Me?” April asked, turning her head from the painting toward George.
“Yep,” George replied with a strange grin. “He’s made an awful mess with you too, now hasn’t he? He had you come out here to Texas to marry him, and, now, here you are-with no groom. So, I guess I should clean up this mess too.”
April cocked her head to the side and looked at George curiously, waiting for him to go on.
“Since you came out here to marry,” George said, lifting his cup and taking a sip, “I’ll marry you if you like… I figure it’s only fair.”
“Fair?” April echoed. Now, she was the one chuckling, though she didn’t mean to and surely didn’t sound the same way. “Nothing about this situation is fair. And, I don’t see how marrying you would make it any better. I don’t even know you.”
“You didn’t know my brother either, and you agreed to marry him,” George chimed back.
“And, we see where that decision got me, now don’t we?” April replied, leaning over the table and raising her eyebrow. “I’d be quite silly to make the same mistake twice.”
“You’d be even sillier to just automatically pass on my offer,” George said, leaning over the table as well. “At least consider it before you turn me down… Like I said, you came out here to get married—so, why not?”
“Why not?” April retorted perplexed. “Do you even want to get married? If you’re proposing to me out of obligation or duty—to ‘clean up’ your brother’s ‘mess,’ as you put it so nicely—then our marriage would never work. There has to be more to a matrimonial union than that.”
“Well,” George said, twirling his cup in his hand, “now that Miles is gone, I could use the help around here. And, you are rather pleasant to look at… So, even though I never really planned on getting married before, I think it’s worth a shot.”
April rolled her eyes and tossed her body back in her chair.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she said. “You obviously haven’t given this any thought.”
“And neither have you,” George replied. “So, maybe that’s what we both should do. Let’s take a few days to get to know each other and see how we get along. Then, we’ll talk again when weekend comes. Maybe by then, you’ll change your mind and want to be my wife.”
“Or, maybe by then,” April added, narrowing her eyes on George, “you’ll have changed yours.”
“Maybe,” George said, bringing his cup to his lips. “Maybe.”
George stood up from the table, picked up his plate, and started toward the kitchen.
“And,” he added, walking out of the room, “if you don’t like my cooking, maybe you’d like to cook supper tomorrow night. I work in town until 5 every weekday, and, while you’re staying here, deciding if you’d like to be my wife, you can earn your keep by doing some chores and cooking around the house.”
April didn’t necessarily like George’s tone, but she saw his point. No matter what she thought of his proposal, she realized that he was doing her a favor by letting her stay in the shed—and, in turn, she should do something to carry her weight.
“Very well,” she said loudly, so that George could hear her from the other room. “I’ll clean and cook while you’re at work.”
And I’ll make something much better than this slop, she thought to herself, batting her fork against a hunk of overcooked gray meat.
April sat and picked at her food for several more minutes, passing over the foul meat in favor of the slightly less foul turnips and potatoes. Then, she, too, took her plate to the kitchen. George, however, was not there, and, for the better of her, she didn’t know where he’d gone.
April decided she’d leave well enough alone and went back to the shed, where she spent the rest of her evening cleaning her quarters so that she could rest in ease. As she cleaned, she hummed and sang some of those hymns she’d been practicing over the past few months and lamented the f
act that Miles was not there, and would never be there, to accompany her on the banjo. Her mind was so fixated on how Miles had hurt her, and on her cleaning, that she didn’t even given George’s preposterous proposal another thought.
Meanwhile, George, on the other hand, couldn’t believe what he’d said and done. As he tended to some chores around the ranch, he kept replaying his dinner conversation with April in his head. Believe it or not, he’d had no intention on proposing to her as he did. It just kind of “happened.” When he sat across the table from April and saw the forlorn, broken look on her face, he wanted to do anything he could to help—and, oddly enough, his marriage proposal was what came out.
Though, now that he had time to think about it, it really didn’t seem like that bad of an idea after all. As he’d told April, now that Miles was gone, he’d need help around the ranch. And, why go look for help when the sheriff delivered help to his door?
And, not to mention, as he’d also said to April, she was pleasant to look at. So, if George ever had any hopes of marrying a beautiful woman, he didn’t have to look very far to find one—again, the sheriff had delivered one right to his door.
Plus, on top of all of that, George was sure he’d gotten God’s blessing on the whole idea—because, as he went about his chores near the barn, he could’ve sworn he heard an angel singing the most enchanting tune in His name.
EIGHT
How disgusting, April thought to herself as she picked up what had to be the 20th whiskey bottle she’d found and tossed it into the growing refuse heap. It clanked as it hit the other bottles, and a thick liquid seeped out.
Chewing tobacco, April told herself, cringing at the thought.
It was a few hours after sunrise, and George was already long gone from the ranch. April had waited until after he left, then she got up and went about her chores. After washing a load of laundry that had been set out on the porch and hanging it on the line, she turned to cleaning up some of the garbage that laid about the grounds of the ranch.
No lie, she’d found nearly two dozen empty whiskey bottles in her cleaning—and, no lie, the bulk of them had been used as makeshift spittoons. I could never marry a man with such awful habits, April told herself as she tended to the bottles.
Beyond those bottles, however, April’s other chores were done completely with ease. George’s house wasn’t the cleanest, but it wasn’t that bad. It just needed a more thorough touch—and, that’s just what April gave it throughout the day. She finished the laundry, folded it carefully, and placed it in the proper drawers. She dusted the furniture, shook out the linens, and tidied up the counter. And, she’d put supper on the stove to boot.
With keeping so busy, the hours seemed to pass, and, before April knew it, she saw George riding up on his horse. He was dressed rather sharply, and, as April saw him approach, she realized she had no idea what he did for a job.
“How was your day?” George asked when he got off of his horse and saw April staring at him. “I hope it went well.”
“Well enough,” April replied, biting her tongue. She wanted to say something to him about all the whiskey bottles she’d found, but thought it best not to at this point.
“What smells so good?” George asked, raising his nose as he got to the porch.
“I put some chicken on the stove,” April answered. “I boiled it with onions, carrots, and herbs.”
“Mmmm,” George purred, walking past April into the house.
“Wow,” he added when he saw the inside. “It looks like your chores did go well today. I can’t remember the last time my house looked so neat.”
Maybe, if you spent more time cleaning and cooking and less time drinking whiskey and chewing tobacco, your house would be like this all the time, April thought to herself, silently chastising George.
“So, is this chicken with onions, carrots, and herbs ready to eat?” George asked, sitting down at the table, waiting to be served.
“Yes,” April replied. “I’ll fetch us both a plate.”
April walked to the kitchen, a little perturbed. She wasn’t George’s wife or servant—and had no plan, or desire, to become either—and she didn’t like the way he’d just sat down as if he were a patron in a eatery or a boarding house.
“Here you go,” April said, setting a heaping helping down in front of George.
“Mmmm,” George purred again, taking in the sight and smell of the food up close. “This looks like quite a treat… and, I sure deserve it after the day I’ve had at the bank.”
“You work at the bank?” April asked, taking her seat across the table from George. The way she asked it, she sounded quite amazed.
“Yes,” George replied slowly. “Why do you sound so surprised to hear that?”
“Well,” April answered, weighing her words carefully, “given your habits, I’d imagine that line of work is hard.”
“My habits?” George asked. Though he was very hungry, he stared straight at April and didn’t think another thought about his food. “What habits do I have that would interfere with banking work?”
“Banking involves calculating figures and dealing with sums of money that are very important to people,” April answered, taking hold of her fork. “It involves working with your mind… And, whiskey isn’t good for the mind, now is it?”
“Whiskey?” George asked, sounding very confused. “No, whiskey isn’t good for the mind… But, why would you—”
George starting laughing. Then, he reached down, grabbed his fork, and stabbed it into a big hunk of chicken.
“You must have found the empty bottles out back,” he said, lifting the fork up in the air and staring at the moist meat.
“Yes,” April replied, appraising him as he appraised the food.
“Those aren’t mine,” George said, raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth. “There are—or were—Miles’.”
April’s stomach turned over inside of her. I should’ve known, she told herself.
“My baby brother has a few bad habits,” George went on. “Whiskey is just one of them. He also chews tobacco, gambles, borrows money from creditors, and… is a bit of a flirt. Like I said, I’ve cleaned up many of his messes over the years.
“And, I guess I learned a lot in the process. After seeing so much of the trouble he got into, I’ve decided to live a better life. I don’t touch whiskey—or beer, or other spirits—and only tried chewing tobacco once. I’ve never gambled, other than at church festivals, and I’ve never borrowed a penny that I haven’t paid back.
“And, as per women, well, let’s just say, I don’t treat them the same way Miles did either.”
April felt a bit embarrassed as she began eating her food. She’d was upset with herself for being so quick to assume that George was riddled with vices, and she was upset with herself for being so quick to assume that Miles was not.
“I’m sorry,” April said, swallowing both her pride and her food. “When I saw the bottles, I just—”
“No need to apologize,” George interrupted. “I’m glad to learn that you don’t condone drinking alcohol, and I’m glad that you expressed your concerns over how it could affect my work.”
April cocked her head at George again, and a strange sensation swept over her body. She felt a sort of “fondness” for him and how understanding he’d been about her accusations.
But, as quickly as that fondness came, it faded away when George went on.
“And, most of all,” he said, changing his tone to a more solemn one, “I’m glad that you won’t give me any problems when it comes to such things. There’s a wedding celebration in town tomorrow evening, and I’d like you to go with me to it. There may be drinking there, as is sometimes the case. So, I’m pleased to learn that your drinking need not be my concern. I was worried that Miles might have gone after a woman who liked to imbibe as well.”
April took great offense to what George had just said. She didn’t like how he could be so quick to jump to conclusions about her
either. But, she remained silent on the matter, out of respect for her host and agreed to go to the wedding celebration with him the next night. Though, when she agreed, she only did so she could glimpse of town and the townspeople, not so she could go out on a “date” with him.
George and April consumed the rest of their meal without saying much else. They spoke of the weather briefly, and George gave April a quick lesson in town history. All in all, it was a mild, mild-mannered conversation that was very “typical” in most respects. There were few, if any, further instances of “fondness,” “embarrassment,” or “offense,” and, by the time supper was done, both George and April were ready to move on with their nights.
“I’ve got to change out of my work clothes and tend to some chores outside,” George said, savoring his last bite. “I’ll be going into town early, as usual tomorrow. Then, I’ll return home sometime in the afternoon, to ready myself for the wedding.”
April nodded her head as George finished explaining his plans.
“Sounds good to me,” she said once he was through. “I’ll do some chores in the morning, then be ready to join you by afternoon. Who’s getting married, by the way?”
“Ha!” George snickered. “I left out that important detail… The feed store owner is marrying a girl from the Midwest. It’s not common for us to have weddings in the middle of the week. But, seeing as he has three young sons, the reverend decided to accommodate him and perform the ceremony sooner than later so that his bride could move into his home.”
“Oh,” April responded. She couldn’t help but think of the numerous social edicts she and George were breaking by sharing a supper table as they did, but she looked past them and considered what she’d just heard.
“That must be Clara he’s marrying,” April went on. “I met her on the train.”
“Must be her then,” George replied. “I was told she arrived yesterday… the same time as you.”
George wanted to ask April if she’d given any more thought to his proposal, but something told him to hold back.
Mail Order Bride: JUMBO Mail Order Bride 20 Book Box Set Page 7
