Della: Bride of Texas (American Mail-Order Bride 28) (15 page)

Chapter 20

The ride back from east Texas was long, but Hank refused to stop. If he kept pushing through, he’d arrive back at the house in time to wash up and head over to Della’s just before she left to begin her morning at the store. He didn’t want to waste another second asking her to be his wife.

The Double H ranch looked majestic in the moonlight as Hank rode over the hillside in the wee morning hours. Soon, it would be
their
home, and maybe they would have two or three children running around—a boy and two girls!

Hank smiled as he daydreamed about his future life with Della. For months, they’d been playing a game of cat and mouse, always teasing and being playful. Hank was ready to get serious, and from what he’d seen so far, so was Della. Both of them were alone in this world. They had plenty of friends, but no close family nearby. Soon, they’d be each other’s family, and Hank was bursting with pride at the thought of being her husband.

When he arrived back home, the staff were waiting to greet him. “Want us to set it back up, boss?” Will asked, referencing the engagement décor at the pond.

“I sure do!” Hank said cheerfully, the exhaustion of the trip not even being capable of competing with the happiness he felt of what was coming next.

“But first,” Hank ordered. “Get me the prettiest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on, and tell Maria to box up some of those fine European chocolates we got with a pretty little bow. I’m going to wash up and head right back out.”

“But boss, you need to rest a spell first!” Will said.

“Will,” Hank said with a big smile. “I couldn’t sleep a wink if I tried.” Hank whistled as he walked through the house to the wash room to get ready. As he planned his future in his mind, he saw a happy home filled with lots of laughter, kids and with God at the center of their being. His kids would have a completely different childhood than he’d had. The hot bath the staff had prepared for him gave him newfound energy and now, he chose his garments carefully. This was the most important day of his life and he wanted to look the part and impress his bride-to-be.

He reached into the pocket inside his jacket and pulled out the satchel that held Della’s ring. Hank opened it and peered down, smiling at what he saw hidden inside—hope for a future with Della—a life filled with happiness, love, and friendship. He tucked the ring back inside his jacket and looked himself over in the mirror.
Next time I see you, you’ll be a married man!
Hank thought, laughing to himself about the plan he’d cooked up.

Now that his staff was preparing the pond, all he had to do was fetch Della, stop by Beatrice’s to let her pick out a wedding gown, and convince Pastor Littlejohn to stop whatever it was he was doing and follow them to the pond to get married. It wasn’t the plan Hank originally had, but he refused to wait another second to marry her. He wanted to let her pick where they’d honeymoon. Maybe she’d want to stop off in Savannah and tell the folks first, then head off to Paris to see the sights—whatever she wanted, he would make sure it happened.

He headed out the door with his staff excited to see him off. “Good luck, boss!” Maria shouted as he climbed up into the carriage. Hank waved as he raced the sun to arrive at Della’s house. He couldn’t help feeling like he was floating on air. The breeze was cool and crisp, dew covered the countryside, and birds twittered around looking for an early morning meal.

Hank pulled up to Roy Jennings’ place and tethered his horse. He gently picked up the bouquet Will had arranged for him to give Della, and carried the chocolates Maria had boxed up in his other hand. Roy’s carriage was still there, so he’d made it in time before the two left for work.

Hank climbed the steps and gave a hearty knock on the door before hiding the bouquet behind his back. He was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but he was also elated and happier than he’d ever been. Hank believed his entire life had been lived for this moment.

Roy opened the door and stood there staring at Hank, visibly upset. Certainly not the reception he expected. “Della?” Roy hollered. “Someone’s here to see you.” He walked away from the door, leaving Hank standing on the porch, the door wide open.

Must be having trouble with Helen again
, Hank thought, feeling a pang of guilt wash over him at the way he helped drive a wedge between Roy and his wife. Hank peered inside and saw Mary sitting quietly on the settee, sewing. Della finally walked out of her room. Hank’s face lit up as he breathed a deep breath.
This is it!
he thought, ready to hand her the gifts and fall to one knee to propose to her. His hands were trembling—not out of fear, but out of sheer excitement.

Della came to the door and walked out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. Her face was solemn, not happy as he expected to see. “I brought you these,” Hank said, holding the flowers and candy out simultaneously. He tried to lean in to kiss Della’s cheek, but she leaned back and turned her head away. Hank stood up straight and lowered his arms, petals from the bouquet spiraling down toward the wooden flats of the stoop.

“I don’t want them” Della said flatly, avoiding eye contact with Hank. Hank stood in silence and furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out why she was mad. “Why don’t you give them to your new friend—or better yet—to Kitty herself. It can be a gift to her for keeping you in supply of the ladies. After all, that
is
what you love most, right Hank?”

Hank felt like he’d been knocked down by a cannonball.

“Didn’t the sheriff…” Hank started to say, but Della wouldn’t let him ask if Sheriff Lockhart had told her where he was that night. She lit into him once again.

“The
sheriff
was out defending the good town of Fort Worth, Texas from a bunch of outlaws,” Della said, anger seeping out of every pore. “The
sheriff
had a good excuse for where he was that night. But you…you were traipsing around who knows where with some woman, if you can call her that, making me the laughing stock of this town.” Della’s harsh demeanor crumbled into sorrow as tears spilled onto her cheeks and onto the porch. “Everyone gossiped as I stood there alone, my heart breaking. And you didn’t even have the decency to hide your behavior! Go back to where you came from, Hank Hensley. I feel so broken now. I have to somehow try to find a way to piece myself back together again.”

Hank took the blows without showing any emotion. He was a mixture of anger that she didn’t trust him and sadness that she felt so hurt. He longed to wrap her in his arms and comfort her and explain everything, but she’d made up her mind about him. She, along with everyone else in Fort Worth, only
pretended
to think he could ever change. They didn’t
truly
believe in him. Hank set the flowers and chocolates down on the table next to the rocking chair and tipped his hat toward Della. He looked into her eyes one last time, and saw the reflection of who he was to her—nothing more than a two-bit gambler who drank too much, embarrassed himself, and went to the wrong kind of places in hell’s Half Acre.

Hank turned abruptly and walked quickly back to his carriage, riding out of sight and back to where he belonged—back to where the town felt he should be banished—the dank and dusty bars on the side of town where nobody cared who you were or what you did.

Stepping into the Peacock Saloon, Hank let his eyes adjust and walked over to a small table in the corner. “Not open yet,” the bartender said loudly.

“Just bring me a whisky when you do.” Hank said.

“Hank?” the bartender said. “That you? I haven’t seen you ‘round here in ages. Thought you fell off the face of the earth!” He poured Hank a whisky and brought it to his table. “I don’t mind serving you before we open.”

“Appreciate it,” Hank said quietly, grabbing the shot glass and turning it around and around in his hand. The bartender walked away, obviously familiar with when his patrons needed time alone. Hank reached in his pocket and pulled out the ring he had wanted to give Della.
What made you think you’d ever be god enough for her?
he thought, scolding himself for getting caught up in a dream that was too good to be true.
Maybe I ought to follow in Floyd’s footsteps,
he thought.
Sell everything off and start over somewhere else
.

But could he ever shake who he was at the core? Even after doing everything right—going to church consistently, being charitable by rescuing abused women, and courting someone properly—it seemed like no one trusted him. Maybe they were right and he was fooling himself all along. Maybe he should just accept it and live up to the reputation he’d gotten, which to this day, he felt he didn’t deserve. At least that way, people would be telling the truth about him, and Della would be applauded for her decision.

Hank was tired—tired from his
good deed
trip, tired of thinking and tired of his life. He set down the shot glass, lowered his head to his folded arms and feel into a deep sleep.

Chapter 21

Della didn’t watch as Hank rode away. She couldn’t bear it. Instead, she went inside, grabbed her reticule with the last bit of money she’d saved up and went into town on her own. The depot was just opening, and Della stood first in line to buy a ticket.

“Savannah, please,” Della said. “First available.”

“We have one heading out tomorrow evening ‘round 7 o’clock,” the station clerk said.

“Perfect,” Della said, handing over her money.

The clerk handed Della her ticket, which she placed inside her reticule. She walked back to Main Street, looking it up and down, wondering if there was anyone she should say goodbye to.
No, they’ll only try to change my mind
, she thought. Della didn’t want anyone trying to interfere with her decision. Even if her heart did heal from the catastrophe with Hank, she couldn’t live in a town where everyone pitied her as a fool. She stopped by the General Store—the last time she’d be stepping foot in there—to pick up a few items for her trip.

Roy had just arrived in town by himself and opened up shop. “You okay?” Roy asked, obviously not wanting to press her for details.

“Mhm,” Della said, trying not to cry at the thought of how much she would miss Roy and Mary. “Just bought myself a ticket to Savannah.” She didn’t want to sneak off without a word. Wouldn’t be fair to neither he nor Mary, after treating her with such kindness.

“I see,” Roy said solemnly. “Know how long you’ll be gone?” He likely knew the answer, but needed her to say it.

“I won’t be back,” Della said, ashamed for a second of her decision to run. “I want you to know how grateful I am for all you’ve done for me. I’ll miss you and Mary so much. I plan to keep in touch with letters!”

“Can’t say I blame you for leaving,” Roy said. “But I sure wish you’d reconsider.”

Della shook her head. “It’s just not possible,” she said softly. “I leave tomorrow night. I need to get a few things for the trip.” She gathered up some snacks for the train ride, and handed Roy her money, which he pushed back toward her.

“It’s on the house,” Roy said, winking at her.

Della smiled and hung her head in sadness as she walked back out the door to head home.
Home
, she thought.
Will I ever be able to set down roots for good?
Della’s heart struggled with the feeling of failure once again. She dreaded the shame of having to go back to her parents to explain this shameful situation.

When she arrived back at the Jennings’ place, Mary was rocking in the chair on the porch, reading a raised letter book. “Good book?” Della asked, sitting down on the steps of the porch to enjoy one of her last chats with Mary.

“Oh yes!” Mary said excitedly. “I’m so glad Mr. Hensley got me these books. Opens up a whole ‘nother world for me to enjoy.” Della’s heart hurt when she heard his name and thought of the good he’d done that had tricked her into believing he’d changed.

“I’m happy for you, Mary,” Della said. “Listen, Mary…I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Mary said, a look of concern coming to the surface of her face. She closed her book and rose out of the chair to feel her way over to where Della sat, sitting down beside her on the top step.

“I’m taking a trip to Savannah,” Della began. “It’s where my parents are.”

“Oh how fun!” Mary said, not understanding the situation.

“Yes,” Della said. “Well, it’s a trip that’s going to take a very long time, Mary. In fact, I’ll be staying there permanently.”

The smile on Mary’s face melted away. “But…if you go, I’ll never see you again.”

“I know,” Della said, her voice cracking. “I just…I can’t stay here, Mary. You’ll understand when you’re older. But hey! I will write you letters and I want to know how that sewing is coming along.” Della tried to sound happy at the end, but she knew she’d been Mary’s first real friend. She knew the girl would take it hard.

Mary’s chin began to quiver. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around Della, squeezing her tight as she sobbed.

“Shh,” Della said. “It’s going to be okay. And listen, if Roy wants to, you and he can come visit me in Savannah—would you like that?”

Mary nodded her head as she pulled back from Della, still immersed in sadness.

“Good!” Della said, her voice overly upbeat in an effort to make Mary feel better. “Want to come talk to me while I pack?” Mary stood, without saying a word, and followed as Della led her back into the room they shared so she could decide which items she’d take and which ones she would leave—another piece of her existence scattered across America.

…

Della slept later than she thought possible the next day. She had planned to wake up early and spend as much time with Mary as possible, but the emotional turmoil during the past few days had taken its toll.

When she got out of bed, she noticed Mary wasn’t in the room—and she heard voices coming from the parlor that weren’t Roy, Mary or Helen. She hurried and dressed in the outfit she’d saved to wear back to Savannah—one of her plain, brown dresses. The others she was leaving for Mary because they only served to tear her apart when she looked at them.

When Della opened the door, she was hit with the scent of a delicious array of food. She walked past the kitchen, where Helen was cooking at the stove, and went into the parlor to see whose voices she was hearing.

“Well there you are, sleepyhead!” Millie said, walking over and giving Della a hug and kiss on the cheek. “We almost didn’t think we were going to get to say goodbye!”

Della looked around the room and saw all of her friends gathered around. Millie and the sheriff, Hannah and Samuel, Annabelle and Lee, and of course, Pastor and Mabel Littlejohn. “Had to tell ‘em,” Roy admitted. “I didn’t think it was right to let you leave without a proper sendoff.”

Della smiled and accepted hugs from all of the ladies, who encircled her with words of regret. “You don’t have to go,” Hannah said. “Please stay.”

“If you want to,” Annabelle said, “You can stop working at the General Store and go work for Lee!”

“I think you need to talk to my husband, John,” Millie said with a serious look on her face. “There’s more to this than you know.”

“Thank you all,” Della said, overwhelmed. “But please, I insist on not talking about this further. I’m going to Savannah tonight and nothing anyone says can change my mind. You’ve been wonderful friends and I will miss you dearly. But I’ve made my decision.”

Della noticed the look Millie gave Sheriff Lockhart. She paired it with a shrug, as if she was saying,
I tried
. Della wanted desperately to change the subject. She hated being the target of everyone’s pity. “I smell amazing food!” Della said loudly, with a phony, upbeat tone. “Let’s eat!”

Everyone had brought a dish, similar to how the church potluck worked. Della wanted to feast on all of the delicious meals, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach, made it hard for her to even swallow a bite. The group sat around chatting for hours, playing some games and laughing about fond memories. Later, everyone went back for seconds, except for Della.

“You’re not eating very much,” Sheriff Lockhart noticed.

“Just not hungry,” Della said. “But it sure is good. I’ll miss all this cooking.”

“Listen,” the sheriff said. “I’m heading into town in a bit for my shift. Why don’t you let me drive you to the depot, so that Roy doesn’t have to make a special trip? Millie can ride home with Hannah and Samuel.”

“That sounds fine,” Della said. As everyone began leaving, Della fought back tears as she doled out hugs and goodbyes. Finally, it was just Roy, Mary and the sheriff left, and Della knew it was time to go.

“I’ll miss you,” Mary said, hugging Della and trying not to cry.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Della whispered.

Della walked over and hugged Roy, too. “Thank you for taking me in,” she said.

“Been a pleasure,” Roy said, with emotion in his voice. “You take care now, you hear?”

Della smiled and nodded her head. Helen had already retired to her bedroom, but Della knew she wouldn’t care about saying goodbye.

“Let’s go!” Della said, taking in a deep breath as she picked up her bag and reticule and looked at Sheriff Lockhart to lead the way.

“Here, let me take that,” he said, grabbing the handle of her bag. He held the door open and followed Della out to the carriage.

Della watched as Roy and Mary stood on the porch waving goodbye. It felt wrong to be leaving them, but she knew it had to be done. She turned back around and used the handkerchief in her reticule to wipe her eyes.

“Having some regrets?” Sheriff Lockhart asked.

“No,” Della lied. “I’m ready.”

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” the sheriff said, “but now that I got you alone, I got something to say and you’re going to listen to me.” Della was shocked at the tone of Sheriff Lockhart’s voice. It almost felt like he was scolding her.

“I really don’t want to…” Della tried to say, heading off a discussion she knew she didn’t want to hear, but the sheriff wasn’t having any of it.

“I know what everyone says about Hank,” he began in his deep voice that made everyone sraighten up and take notice and cower, as in the case of Hell’s Half Acre rowdies. “I’ve arrested him more times than I care to count. I also know when a man has a good heart, and I’ve never seen him love anyone like he loves you.”

“He sure doesn’t know how to show it,” Della said, scoffing at the idea that Hank truly loved her.

“What you don’t know,” Sheriff Lockhart continued, “What you’ve been too stubborn to
hear
, is that I asked him to do me a favor and help me get one of Kitty’s girls to safety the night of the auction. He didn’t question it. He just did it—came to the rescue of a girl who’d been beaten up…all because he’s the kind of man who doesn’t want to see a woman hurt.”

Della’s mouth gaped open in shock. Her breath quickened as the full weight of the realization that she’d made a horrible mistake came crashing down upon her.

“He put his entire future on the line, trusting everything would be okay. He trusted
me
to tell you, but I got caught up in everything going down at the calaboose. He trusted that
you
, of
all
people, would know what was in his heart and understand why he’d done what he done.
He
didn’t let
you
down Della.
You
let
him
down. We
all
did. I made my peace with him this morning. You have to choose whether you want to make yours.”

Sheriff Lockhart stopped talking the second they entered Main Street and pulled up to the train depot. He turned to face her, not saying another word.

“Sheriff? Can you take me to him?” Della begged.

“He’s in a place proper women shouldn’t be going, over at the Peacock Saloon in Hell’s Half Acre,” the sheriff replied. “And I don’t blame him. It’s the only place he feels accepted.”

“I don’t care, Della cried in a panic. “I don’t care if a
thousand
people see me going in there. I have to make this right.”

Sheriff Lockhart turned the carriage around and headed into the Acre. There were the usual goings-on out in the streets and loud, bawdy noises coming from the establishments. Della tried to keep her eyes averted from the worst of it, but everywhere she looked there were scenes she’d just as soon forget. Now she knew why Hank and the sheriff were so insistent on cleaning up this part of town. He tethered the horse and helped Della down, escorting her into the dimly lit saloon where Hank sat slumped over at a table in the corner. “Glad you’re back, sheriff,” said the bartender, walking up to the pair as they came through the swinging doors. “He’s been sitting there since yesterday. Won’t leave. Keeps ordering shots and then just stares at it and gives it away. Keeps falling in and out of sleep like he’s in some sort of coma, but he hasn’t had anything to drink ‘cept water.”

Sheriff Lockhart began walking over to Hank, but Della stopped him. “Let me,” Della said softly. She slowly approached Hank and watched as he sat there, dozed off, ring in hand. She sat down in the chair next to him and gently stroked his hair. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Hank awoke with a start and sat up in his chair, placing his cowboy hat back on his head. His eyes connected with Della’s and the look of hurt that she saw felt unbearable to her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Hank said. Della didn’t know if he meant she shouldn’t have come to him, or if he was protecting her reputation, but she couldn’t stop now.

“Hank,” she said. “I was so scared of getting hurt that I protected myself to the point of stupidity, unable to see when someone was telling the truth. Here’s my truth, Hank Hensley. I’m terrified of loving you. I’m scared I’m making the wrong choice—not because you’re not a good man, but because you might someday realize you deserve more than a poor, pig headed girl from Florida who doesn’t know how to dress and can’t cook all those fancy meals that you’re used to. You could have any woman in this county. You took a chance on me, not the other way around. And I let you down, Hank. You risked your heart and I hurt you. I’ll never forgive myself.”