A Groom's Promise

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A Groom's Promise Page 17

by Ruth Ann Nordin


  “What are you doing?” she whispered in a strained voice.

  “I – I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. He pressed his arms on the empty seat beside her and inched his face off her wool skirt. He settled himself in his seat and leaned over to grab the crushed hat. Presenting it to her, he apologized. His gaze searched the fair-freckled face of the redheaded woman. Her hair bobbed around her ears. He gulped. “I’m afraid I ruined your hat.”

  She studied the flattened piece. Her eyes welled up with tears. “How am I to travel like this?”

  He thought of the money he carried with him. He had just enough to purchase that land and cover other expenses, but he must replace that hat. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’ll buy you another one at the next stop. I’m sure we’ll have time to make a quick trip to a store.”

  She gritted her teeth a moment then replied, “One as fine as this one, which my sister, Opal Boyer, sent me to wear to Lincoln, Nebraska?”

  What a way to begin our new life. “We’ll do our best to find something similar.” He forced a smile to help raise her hopes. “You’re going to Lincoln?”

  She scrunched her nose and nodded.

  “Oh then, we’ll see a lot of each other.” He took a long breath to calm himself, knowing this incident would follow him all the way to Lincoln. “My brother Jack and I are going there, also.”

  Hugh could not get up the courage to continue a conversation with her so he sat in his middle seat between her and his brother. Hugh stared at the dogwood trees as the train chugged down the tracks. He loved his brother, of course, but he could not believe how clumsy Jack could be and that stuttering made everyone believe he was not smart. He, though, knew this was not the case. Throughout their lives, Hugh had defended his brother against those who belittled him. A fresh start was what they needed, and this pending land purchase gave them that opportunity. But with this opening salvo, a new beginning might not be as easy as he wished.

  The conductor made his way down the aisle, punching each ticket as he strode toward them. He stood in front of their row. The lady presented her ticket. He punched it and returned it to her. Hugh gave them their tickets. The short and pudgy railroad man glanced at the papers in his palm. “I see you’re all going to Lincoln,” he said as he emphasized the word, “all.”

  The woman bit her lip. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  Hugh forced a smile, seeing by her tone how displeased she was with the prospect. “It’s quite coincidental my brother and I ran into another traveling to the same place.” He gulped. Why did I have to use those words? He turned his gaze to the lady beside him, but she did not look his way.

  “Nothing in God’s world is coincidental,” the conductor added, winking at the woman and Hugh before he stepped forward.

  Her face paled. She jerked her head to the side to peer out the window.

  Hugh sat there for a long time without talking but could not tolerate one more minute of quiet. He shifted his attention to his brother, who sat to his right with his eyes closed, and mumbled, “What a way to start our new life.”

  “I’m sorry, Hugh.” Jack opened his eyes and looked at his brother.

  “I know you are.” Hugh lowered his voice. “I told her I would buy her another hat at our next stop.”

  He winced. “We don’t have much money.”

  Hugh nodded. “But it’s the right thing to do.”

  The lady squirmed in her seat.

  “She can’t stand sitting next to me and I can’t blame her,” Hugh whispered.

  “It wasn’t your fault. Just tell her I’m the reason you bumped into her.”

  “We’re a team, Jack. Always have been and always will be.” He would love to tell her it was his brother’s fault. But as his older brother, who protected him all his life, Hugh could not humiliate him in that way.

  ***

  The lady accepted Hugh’s hand as he assisted her onto the platform. She wished she could pull her hand away from his, but this would not look proper. Instead, she must tolerate it. If only his brother would not have stayed at the depot, then she would not have to interact with this detestable man. Sighing, she glanced at the man who held her hand. His dark brown hair drooped around his brow. He had an infectious smile and a strong chin. If circumstances were different, she might have been taken with him. However, they were not.

  Hugh released her hand and took her arm to escort her down the boardwalk. He scoured the premises. They stopped at a millinery shop and peeked into the window. He turned to the woman. “They do have lots of hats.”

  “Mister …”

  “Hugh Warren.”

  “Mr. Warren?”

  “Please call me Hugh and your name is?”

  “Miss Winifred Preston and you may call me Miss Winifred Preston.”

  “Yes, Miss Winifred Preston.” He shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he gazed at the window display. “I don’t see any with those ball objects on them but would you like to go inside anyway?” He smiled.

  She sighed. “You’re exasperating, Mr. Hugh. No, there aren’t any with pom-poms on them. But they do have a delightful array of items, I just wish,” she said, swallowing the anger building in her, “that some looked like the one my sister sent me.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, though. Did you want to go inside?”

  “I guess. It sure isn’t respectable to not wear a hat.”

  He grimaced then muttered, “I’m sorry about the hat.” He opened the door for her, and they entered the small shop, which had a few rows of tables.

  She studied one hat after another before stopping at a small brimmed, straw bonnet with white and purple violet flowers on top. Winifred stroked the forest-green ribbon, which tied under the chin before moving to another display.

  Hugh shrugged and followed her. A woman approached.

  She turned to Hugh. “May I be of help? I’m the shop owner.”

  “Miss Winifred Preston here is looking for a certain type of hat—one with those fluffy-ball things on it.”

  The lady giggled. “You mean pom-poms?”

  Glimpsing toward Miss Winifred Preston, he gulped. “Yes, that’s what she wants.”

  I can speak for myself. I don’t need you telling her. She forced a smile before she shifted her gaze from Hugh to the proprietor. “Do you have anything of that sort?” She sure hoped she did since Opal visited the town’s shop several times before finding a blue one to closely match her shirtwaist. “That would be similar to the one my sister sent me. It got crushed.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. How did that happen?”

  “Someone stepped on it,” Miss Winifred said as she glanced at Hugh.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’m the culprit. That’s why we’re here. We were hoping to find something similar.”

  The petite woman, who wore a black shirtwaist, strode to another table toward the rear. “I believe this is the closest hat to what you described.” She picked up the Navy blue hat with a large-cabbage rose sewed on the front.

  “Ooh,” Winifred uttered as she eyed the felt hat. The corners of her lips grew into a broad smile. “Why that’s beautiful.” She stroked the white silk rose.

  “It just arrived from New York last week.” Turning to Hugh, the owner added. “It’s quite exquisite. We usually make our items here, but I saw this in a catalog and couldn’t resist ordering it for some special person.”

  “It is quite nice. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She examined her skirt, knowing this would match it perfectly. But what did it cost? She searched for a price tag.

  The shopkeeper smiled. “We’ve not had time to mark it. I’ll check my books and be right back.”

  Winifred faced her companion and whispered, “I’m afraid it will be very expensive. I’ll look for something more affordable.” I don’t like this man. Yet, I don’t want him spending more money than what my hat was worth. She set the hat on the table and returned to a front display.

  Hugh followed an
d mumbled, “Is it something you would like?”

  “Of course, but you have to be practical.”

  The proprietor returned. “That hat is fifteen dollars. A high price but it’s of superior quality, and there‘s nothing like it in the area.” Her eyes twinkled.

  Winifred glanced from the woman to Hugh. She did not want them to see how much she desired this small-brimmed hat. Taking a deep breath, she redirected her gaze to them. “It’s too costly.” She picked up a blue bonnet with a large bow. “This one will work. It’s pretty enough,” examining the tag, she continued, “and it’s a dollar.” She had to learn to tamper down her yearning for the finer things. After all, her father’s business had suffered but her passion for luxury had not diminished.

  Hugh stood there for several seconds. He dug into his pocket and presented an assortment of bills before counting out fifteen dollars.

  Don’t pay that much. Winifred opened her mouth to protest, but Hugh interrupted before she could speak.

  “My clumsiness brought about this misfortune, and I intend to make amends.”

  “It costs too much. Please, I beg of you.”

  He smiled at Winifred before he returned his gaze to the storeowner who stuffed the assortment of bills into the drawers. Grasping the hat, he set it on top of her head. “This looks quite pretty on you.”

  Her heart melted a tiny bit at his kindness. She stepped to the mirror and adjusted the hat’s brim. She sighed. It did look pretty, indeed, and went well with her pleated blue skirt. She shifted her gaze to Hugh. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have.”

  Hugh took her arm and guided her out the door.

  Winifred peered up at him as his warm fingers pressed against her elbow. It was nice of him to have done this, but did this expenditure leave him with enough funds to finish the trip?

  ***

  Hugh gulped. Paying for that hat would mean they would finish the journey with the peanuts he carried in his pocket. His stomach grumbled. He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the stash of nuts. They could chew on them at stops and always grab a drink of water to wash them down.

  He glimpsed toward Jack, who sat next to him.

  Jack stared at a row of seats ahead of them. He turned to his brother. “Why doesn’t that lady want to sit by us anymore?”

  He wanted to blurt out that his brother’s clumsiness caused her to sit elsewhere but instead said, “Miss Winifred Preston is not pleased with us.”

  “Miss Winifred Preston?”

  “Yes, this is the way she expects to be addressed.”

  “Alright. But this doesn’t explain why she didn’t want to sit beside us.”

  “I don’t think she likes us much. We’re not her type.”

  “Why is that? We’re all from Charles City.”

  “Because she thinks we’re not good enough for her.”

  Puzzled, Jack said, “I don’t understand. You’re a handsome man. Many women would love sitting next to you.”

  Hugh forced a smile. “I don’t know about that, but she sure doesn’t care much for our company.”

  “Is it our clothes?” Jack studied his worn out suit.

  Hugh cleared his throat. “Not entirely, but that’s some of it. You also can tell she’s used to having luxury. Did you see that large turquoise and pearl ring of hers?”

  Jack shook his head.

  “Well, you can tell by that she comes from a wealthy home and probably thinks we’re beneath her.” He did not want to talk about that irritating woman anymore. The train chugged and clanged down the tracks. He yawned. It had been a long day, especially having to be around that woman. His eyelids closed. He dropped off to sleep, dreaming of the new land and the opportunities presented to them there.

  ***

  Lincoln, Nebraska

  On Monday, Winifred stepped off the train. She looked over her shoulder to sneak a peek at Hugh, the man who had crushed her hat. Why she did that she did not know. He irritated her, but somehow she still was drawn to him. Not seeing him, she moved forward. A breeze circulated around her. She strode to the railroad platform. Her sister’s husband, Alex Boyer, was to meet her at the station. Not knowing what he looked like, she twisted her head from side to side.

  A cart squeaked. Winifred turned her gaze to the man pulling the luggage wagon to the depot. The baggage handler stood beside the cart. Her heart caught in her throat. Would she really have to lift her heavy box off the wagon herself? She approached the cart. Her long skirt swayed around her ankles. Passengers swished past her. She took a step backwards to avoid the rush when a muscular man with wavy, blond hair came up to her. He faced her.

  “Are you Winifred?” he said, panting as he stood in front of her.

  “Why yes, and you?”

  He smiled. “I’m your brother-in-law. Sorry I’m late, but a last-minute customer delayed me. Glad to make your acquaintance. Opal is so excited to see you.”

  A whiff of horse manure swirled around her. She inhaled the unpleasant odor and scanned the horizon to see where that foul odor came from before seeing the livery stable a few feet to her right.

  “Your bag. Your bag,” Mr. Boyer’s words finally registered, and she returned her attention to her sister’s husband.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I’m still getting my bearings.” The baggage handler gave her a stern look. “That’s the one, and here’s my baggage tag.” She cleared her throat and presented her brother-in-law the square-shaped metal. “The – The one left on the wagon.”

  “You’ve got a lot in common with your older sister,” her brother-in-law said in a light tone.

  Winifred’s brow furrowed.

  Mr. Boyer turned to the baggage handler and winked at him. “Bob, this is Opal’s sister, and she’s a lot like Opal.” He laughed and pointed to the trunk.

  The man’s eyes twinkled. “I see that. You need some help?”

  “Probably a good idea,” her brother-in-law replied. The men lifted the trunk from the cart and set it down beside her.

  “Where’s your wagon?” asked Bob.

  Mr. Boyer gestured to a buckboard. “It’s right there. Want to help me carry it and load it up?”

  The baggage handler nodded. Winifred followed and stood behind them as they finished pushing the metal box onto the buckboard. “I didn’t know it would be that heavy.”

  Her brother-in-law chuckled and looked her straight in the eye. “Miss Winifred, don’t you worry about it. Your sister arrived the same way. We know the Prestons’ manners.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and gave Bob a silver coin.

  “Thanks, Alex, I know better than to say no to you. It’ll help with family expenses. He put the silver piece in his pocket. “You keep these beautiful girls coming. It keeps the gossip going.” He laughed and strode toward the depot.

  Winifred’s mouth opened in surprise. People around here sure were not afraid to say what they thought. Virginians, though, prized themselves on their social ethics. It would not be proper to do otherwise.

  Mr. Boyer stretched out his brawny hand to her and assisted her up onto the buckboard plank. She adjusted herself in the seat and gazed at the worn wooden buildings to her left, a far cry from the brick-and-mortar business district of Charles City.

  Chapter Two

  Hugh led Jack up the porch stairs and faced the door. Jack stayed behind him on the top porch step. Hugh knocked on the door. He took a deep breath. This would not be an easy transition but a necessary step. They could not continue living in their father’s house with his shouting and ridicule of his brother’s stuttering. He believed Jack would fit in perfectly with what the farmer wanted them to do, and Hugh looked forward to them purchasing a parcel of Mr. Smith’s land. That is, if he could work a deal with the man since Miss Winifred Preston’s hat left him short of funds. Swaying from side to side to await the door opening, Hugh tried to not pay attention to his rumbling stomach, which gave him flip-flops since they had eaten up all the peanuts yesterday.

  Th
e front door opened, and a man who looked to be in his sixties and sprouted a beard strode onto the porch. “Howdy,” he greeted, a kind smile on his face.

  “Hi,” Hugh replied, taking his hat off. “Are you Archie Smith?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m Hugh Warren, and this is my brother, Jack. We’re excited about working for you.”

  “Glad you made it safely. How was your trip?” He smiled and shook Hugh’s hand.

  “It was good. Met some nice people along the way. One was a lady on the train named Miss Winifred Preston. She came here to assist her sister, Opal Boyer.”

  “I know Opal. She’s married to Alex, the banker. It’s sure a small world.”

  Hugh turned his head and glimpsed down at his brother.

  Archie stretched out his arm to Jack. Not looking up, he, instead, fiddled with his boot’s buttons. Archie cleared his throat and stared at Jack. It took a few minutes before Jack directed his attention to Hugh.

  “You’ll have to forgive my brother. He’s shy around strangers,” Hugh said.

  “Well, I hope he won’t feel like a stranger for long,” Archie replied with a chuckle. “Around here, we’re all friends.”

  Avoiding eye contact, Jack nodded.

  “We appreciate you letting us stay here.”

  “To tell you the truth, I could use the help. It hasn’t been easy to manage the farm by myself. Maybell does as much as she can, but she needs to focus on the cooking and cleaning, you know? We usually hire men who are coming through for the season,” Archie continued. “Most want to own their own land, like you, and I don’t blame you one bit. It’s important you make a place for yourself.”

  The door opened again, and a young woman came onto the porch, holding two glasses of lemonade.

  “Oh, this is my daughter, Maybell,” Archie introduced. “Maybell, these are Hugh and Jack Warren.”

  She smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “I saw you two arriving. I figured you must’ve been thirsty after your long trip,” she said, presenting Hugh his glass.

 

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