Della: Bride of Texas (American Mail-Order Bride 28) (9 page)

“Why, Della Owens,” Hank said as he took the picnic hamper from her hands. “Don’t you just look ravishing in that dress?” The smug look of satisfaction on his face made Della wish she’d never worn the dress he’d personally chosen and paid for.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Della said. “I must go say goodbye to my
fiancé
.” Della shoved the picnic hamper toward Hank and hurried over to Milton, who was walking toward his wagon.

“What are you
doing
?” Milton scolded when she came up beside him.

“I…I came to say goodbye,” she said. “That horrible Hank Hensley, bidding an obscene amount like that! Why no one in town could compete with that bid.”

“I really don’t understand why you’re over
here
instead of over
there
with him,” Milton said, confused. He turned his back to Della and stepped up into his wagon. “The last thing I want is for him to withdraw his business from the bank due to your rude behavior at a town event.”

Della was so shocked she couldn’t speak. She backed up as Milton’s wagon began to move and stood staring at him until he was out of sight—her chin quivering and her eyes welling up with tears she refused to unleash.

“This picnic’s going to go stale if you keep standing out here avoiding me,” Hank said softly as he walked up behind Della and gently bumped her with the hamper.

“Are you happy now?” Della said, turning on him with fury in her eyes. “You’ve made a fool out of him…out of
me
…ruined my plans for the day, and for what? So you could show everyone how much money you’ve got? How you can
buy
any woman you want? Well you can’t buy me, Hank Hensley. You can buy that food, but you’ll never buy my heart or my dignity.”

Hank stood in place, letting Della have her say. When she was finished, he was silent for another minute, letting her entirely vent her anger. Then, he spoke in a firm, but kind manner. “The way I see it, I did you a favor,” he said. “Milton isn’t the kind of man who enjoys spending money, even if it benefits the community, and he’s a fool regardless of what I bid or what he
didn’t
. You’re walking out of here having brought in the most money, contributed to the betterment of our streets and sidewalks—something everyone will appreciate. I’m not trying to
buy
you Della, I’m trying to make you see your own
worth
. As for your
plans
being spoiled, I can’t imagine any woman wanting to spend a beautiful day sharing a picnic with Milton Tidwell. And if you’re honest with yourself, I think you’ll admit that I’m right.”

Della knew Hank was right, but at that moment she was too mad to admit to anything. “Let’s get this over with,” she said coolly, grabbing the hamper out of Hank’s hands and marching to the bank of the river. She took the small blanket she’d used to cover the food and was about to spread it on the ground.

Hank grabbed it out of her hands and took the hamper from her once again. “Not here,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

“Well I didn’t agree to go elsewhere,” Della said sharply.

“Suit yourself,” he said, handing her back the hamper and walking off towards his wagon. Della noticed others looking their way and she felt embarrassed that their argument was on display—especially after Hank had paid an exorbitant amount for her picnic.

“Oh okay!” she said, stomping off to catch up with him and walking ahead of him so she could finish this day as fast as possible. On the way, Della sat in silence as he drove the carriage, mulling over the events of the day in her head. A part of her was proud of the fact that someone had spent that kind of money on her. It still didn’t excuse Hank’s behavior, but Della smiled when she recalled how the other girls looked when the bid came in. And truth be told, Hank was right—she didn’t have any desire to spend the day with Milton, although Hank wasn’t high on her list of desired company, either. At least she could expect some stimulating conversation now.

Hank took Della to a small, spring-fed pond. It was surrounded and protected by some of the most beautiful vegetation Della had seen since moving to the frontier. There were weeping willows—their branches leaning toward the water as if to kiss the shiny stillness. Vines grew everywhere and some sported colorful flowers that scented the air surrounding the pond. Boulders were stacked and leaning against each other on one side of the pond, creating a small waterfall for the fresh spring water flowing strong after the recent rains.

As the wagon came to a stop, Della noticed two deer skittering from the edge of the pond. It was so calm and peaceful that the only sounds she heard were the birds twittering from the treetops.

Hank hopped down and turned to help Della from the carriage. His hands circled her waist and he lifted her down slowly, bringing her face to face with him. “I hope I didn’t make you
too
mad and that we can enjoy our day,” Hank said softly as he looked into her eyes. Milton had never helped her down off his wagon.

Della looked up at Hank and for the first time let herself be free of the anger and disappointment she felt at her plans failing to work out once again, and enjoy the fact that a man as handsome as Hank was doting on her. She had to admit, he’d done a good deed that day, even if it did interfere with her original plans. “Well,” she said coyly, turning her face away. “I suppose I
can
forgive you since it was for a fund raising event.”

“That’s mighty kind of you,” Hank said. “Shall we?” He took the picnic hamper in one hand and held out his other arm for Della.

Della laced her arm with his and they walked toward a soft, grassy area near the edge of the pond. “It’s beautiful here,” she said as she looked out over the water. “Breathtaking.”

“Yes,” Hank said, looking pointedly at her instead of the pond. “Roy and Helen treating you right?”

“Roy and Mary, yes,” Della said. “But Helen doesn’t treat Roy very well after…” her voice trailed off, not wanting to embarrass Hank.

“After what I did,” Hank said/ Della hung her head and nodded.

Della blushed. She took the blanket and spread it out, motioning for Hank to join her. “What is this place?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s where I used to come when we first moved here,” Hank said.

“You and your parents?” Della asked as she opened the hamper and began to remove utensils and food containers. She carefully unwrapped the food she had so carefully prepared for her and Milton and fixed a plate for Hank and herself.

“Me and my…” Hank started. “Me and the man who raised me as his son.”

“And your ma?” Della prodded. The smell of the food was mouth-watering and both of them were starving. Della noticed that Hank was diving into the meal like it was his last. She surmised that he didn’t get too many home-cooked meals with the hours he worked and the places he frequented.

“She didn’t raise me,” Hank said in a matter-of-fact manner. “Floyd Hensley—the man who gave me his name—brought me here and stepped in to raise me, but he took off when I was around eighteen years old. Been here ever since. I love Fort Worth. Just not sure it’s learned to love me back.”

“Well you seem to be doing
very
well here,” Della said.

“Depends on what you call
very well
,” Hank said. “Money wise? Sure. I have a home. Several businesses. But my life’s not complete yet.”

“What is it you’re missing?” Della asked. She wasn’t sure how far she should delve into Hank’s private life without giving him the wrong impression, but she was truly interested in this man. He was so different than anyone she’d ever met and she had to admit to herself that she was beginning to actually like him.

“A woman like you,” Hank said—again, so matter-of-fact that he was bound to have given it thought.

“Mr. Hensley,” Della said, using his last name to put a more formal barrier of sorts between the two, “I’m afraid it’s not proper for me to be discussing such things with you. I’m betrothed to Milton as you know.” Even as she said the words, she knew she felt no passion behind them. She felt nothing for Milton Tidwell, but Hank Hensley brought all sorts of emotions to the surface.

“I know,” Hank said. “And I regret the fact that I turned Pastor Littlejohn down when he first came to me about you. I had no idea what I’d be missing out on.” Then, Tidwell stepped in and I…well…I lost out.” Hank’s voice trailed off.

Della’s heart sank.
Hank was supposed to be the one she came for?
“You’ll find someone,” Della said a little too quickly, resisting the feeling deep within her to admit she regretted the situation, too. Doing that would ruin everything she’d been working toward—all her careful plans—and even though he was showing a softer side that day, Hank Hensley was
not
a man you could count on for stability. “We’d better go now.” Things were getting much too deep and she didn’t want to risk showing her true feelings.

They gathered the picnic up in silence and Hank took her back to the Jennings’ house. Each of them were obviously lost in thought about how things might have turned out if Hank had made a different choice that day with Pastor Littlejohn. Even though no words were spoken on the ride home, the stolen glances shouted what each of them was thinking.

“I won’t bother you anymore,” Hank said resolutely as he helped Della from the carriage, holding her waist a bit longer than necessary. “I know it’s a confusing time for you and Lord knows you don’t need me making it any harder on you. You have my word I’ll remain a gentleman from here on out.”

“I appreciate that,” Della lied. “Thank you for a lovely day.” As she stepped up onto the porch, Della turned and watched as Hank rode away. She couldn’t bear the thought of Hank not paying her any attention and being left to wither in a cold relationship with Milton. But she knew it was the
right
thing for him to do and for her plans to remain intact.

Chapter 10

When Monday morning rolled around, Hank couldn’t imagine walking into the General Store and seeing Della there on his usual routine. What’s worse, Beatrice had notified him that the dresses were ready, and he knew if he saw her standing there in one of the dresses he’d had made for her, it might prove to be his breaking point. He knew he was head over heels in love with this woman who came to town to marry another man and it was eating him alive and taking over all his thoughts.

“Billy,” Hank said, stopping a young boy who was walking by as he unlocked the door to his office. “Head on over to the General Store and tell Roy he’ll need to come to me this week.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a dime and flipped it up in the air and into Billy’s hand.

“Sure thing, Mr. Hensley!” Billy said, running off down the street.

Hank busied himself with other work, but he found it hard to concentrate. So much had happened lately. One minute he was happy doing nothing more than flirting with a beautiful newcomer to town—the next, his heart and mind were her captives and for the first time in his life, he couldn’t get a woman out of his mind. His heart was breaking and he had no idea what to do about it.

That’s what you get for caring
, Hank thought, remembering for a brief moment how those he thought he loved in life only ever let him down. But Della was different, and Hank knew it. She hadn’t ever led him on or made him think he had a chance. In fact, she’d been perfectly blunt about wanting anything
but
him, so he couldn’t really blame her when she made it clear, once again, that he wasn’t in her plans for the future. He’d just have to get past this pain, and he was sure time would heal the heartache—at least he
hoped
it would.

“Hank?” Roy asked, opening the door to Hank’s office. “You under the weather?”

“Nah,” Hank said, motioning for Roy to have a seat. “Just don’t think it’s a good idea to be putting myself in places I don’t need to be.”

The two men exchanged knowing looks as Roy nodded. “Well, we had another profitable week last week,” he began, giving Hank a rundown of the business. “Got another delivery Tuesday—stocking up for the Chisolm Trail rush. Looks like we’ll triple sales we did last year.”

“That’s great, Roy,” Hank said. “You’ve done an amazing job running the place.”

“Thank you, sir,” Roy said, rising from the chair.

“I know I’ve said it before, Roy,” Hank said, “but I sure am sorry for what I did before.”

“Think nothing of it,” Roy said.

“It was wrong,” Hank said, his voice filled with remorse as he remembered what Della had told him about the trouble in the family at the pond. “I could never make up for it.”

“Look, Hank,” Roy said. “You done right by me and my Mary, and none of that would have happened if it weren’t for that incident, so you and me? We’re square.”

Hank nodded in acceptance, unable to speak at first due to the emotions about to brim over in his eyes. Clearing his throat, Hank finally spoke up. “How
is
Mary?” he asked.

“She’s reading!” Roy laughed. “And Della is teaching her all about sewing. She’s made some beautiful pieces out of some scraps Della got from Beatrice’s store.”

Hank’s heart ached at the mention of Della. Even staying away from her, he couldn’t escape his feelings. “Well, you tell Mary hello for me,” Hank said. “And let me know if she needs anything else—anything at all.”

“Will do,” Roy said as he opened the door to leave. “Oh, and Hank? Maybe next time you could stop in the store instead of having me come here. Della…she seems down. I always noticed how her eyes lit up whenever you’d come around. You know, it ain’t none of my business, but…”

“She has Milton for that,” Hank interrupted before Roy could say anything else.

“Milton,” Roy laughed. “You and I both know he’s about as pleasant as stepping foot in a pile of manure. I just hate to see a sweet little gal like Della get stuck with that buzzard.” He let the door shut behind him, and Hank returned to his desk.

He could picture Della standing in the General Store—her big, blue eyes filled with the same sadness Hank had witnessed before when she spoke of being alone in life the first time they met, or when he’d seen Milton humiliate her in the past. But it wasn’t his place. He wouldn’t be going into the General Store that week. He wanted to limit the amount of time he had to see Della. Maybe it would help him get over her sooner.

…

Hank stared at the ceiling of room 6A in the Cartwright Hotel, wondering how early it was, and how long he’d been awake. Going home was out of the question these last few nights. All he did was think about Della—about her future with Milton and
his
of being alone—and it drove him insane with jealousy and sorrow. The sun was up and Hank could hear the bustling of street sounds down below. Church would be starting soon and he’d already missed one service last week—he couldn’t afford to let his sorry soul miss two in a row.

He knew she’d be there, sitting right by Milton’s side. But it was something Hank would just have to get used to—seeing them together, knowing he couldn’t talk to her, compliment her, or encourage her to be his. She’d made her decision when he’d hinted at the idea of them being together, and now he had to accept it and move on. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to have him acting like a lovesick puppy running after her, and he sure as heck wasn’t going to make a fool of himself in the process—especially in front of that weasel, Milton Tidwell.

Hank waited until the last minute to enter the church—after the rest of the congregation had filed in and seated themselves. He sat down in the very back row and stared straight ahead, refusing to catch a glimpse of Della and her beau. After the service, he stood up and hurried out the door, trying to leave before anyone caught sight of him.

“Whoa,” Sheriff Lockhart said, his large hand grabbing him by the neck and bringing him to a halt. “What’s
your
hurry? Don’t you know there’s a potluck today? You got something against our womens’ cookin?”

Hank stopped and turned around. He’d completely forgotten about the after service supper. “Must have slipped my mind,” Hank said. “I don’t think I’ll stay for this one.” He hadn’t confided in his friend yet about his feelings for Della. Men just didn’t talk about such things. Besides, he knew what he’d tell him—leave her be, get your act together first—everything he didn’t want to hear, but knew was the truth.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave this early,” Sheriff Lockhart said. “My sister, Josephine’s in town—the one married to the governor—and since he can’t be here, I was hoping you’d escort her at the supper today. I’ve got to help with the young’uns while Millie is serving—and Jo doesn’t know anyone.”

There was no way Hank could turn down a request from the sheriff. He’d just have to muddle through it and try to avoid contact with Della and Milton as best he could. “Of course,” Hank said, strolling back toward the church steps with the sheriff at his side.

The sheriff’s wife, Millie, emerged from the church with another woman. Josephine was the female version of her brother—tall and statuesque, dark curls escaping from the fashionable hat she wore and the skin that stretched over her high cheekbones was completely flawless. Her clothes spoke volumes about her life. She was obviously married to a rich man and knew how to impress without seeming overbearing or above others in social status. Hank thought that she must have been an ace-in-the-hole to her husband, the governor, winning the election. Normally, she’d be the kind of woman Hank would strike up a conversation with, and tease, but it was all he could do to offer his hand to her and smile.

“Josephine,” Sheriff Lockhart said, “This is my best buddy, Hank Hensley—second best shot in all of Fort Worth.” The three walked to the line for the potluck tables where Millie was busy ladling out the food.

“Well, that’s quite an honor,” Josephine said. “And I’m assuming you’re number one on that list, John?”

“My sister’s always been impressed by a man who can handle a pistol,” Sheriff Lockhart said. “I think that’s why she married the governor. Although even
he
doesn’t have the nickname Six Shooter like my friend Hank, here. He carries two pistols—one for each hand—and his aim is just as good with one as it is the other.”

Josephine raised her eyebrows in amazement. “Looks like I chose the right person to dine with today,” she said as they all stood in line waiting to be served. “Did John tell you about why I’m here?”

“No ma’am, he didn’t,” Hank said, wishing the line would move so he could eat and excuse himself from the potluck.

“I haven’t seen him in a week!” Sheriff Lockhart laughed. “I think he’s been hiding out, trying to avoid paying his fines.”

The group took their heavily laden plates and found a table to sit at. Millie had her hands full with the twins running around the table as she tried to help out and the sheriff excused himself and went to help her with them. Hank looked up spotted Della, standing in line behind Milton, Roy and Mary. Their eyes met and he looked away quickly, not wanting the glance to linger between them.

“So tell me about why you’re here,” Hank turned his attention to Josephine, hoping to get his mind off Della.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of the rash of stagecoach and train robberies happening here in the state,” Josephine said.

“Yep,” Hank said. “Just had a couple held up here a day or two ago on their way into town. Took off with their jewelry and cash. They’re lucky they weren’t violent like some of the ones I’ve heard about.”

“Yes,” Josephine said. “The violence, in addition to the theft, has gotten out of control. My husband, Governor Winscott, is offering $250 bounties for criminals caught participating in this kind of activity. We’re recruiting some of the best bounty hunters in the state.”

Hank was listening, but only half tuned in to what Josephine was saying. He was too busy watching Milton and Della out of the corner of his eye, apparently involved in a disagreement. Milton kept pointing toward Hank’s table and Della was shaking her head, “No.”

Sheriff Lockhart had just returned after corralling the kids and joined the conversation. “Hank?” he asked, catching Hank’s attention. “You in?”

“In what?” Hank said, confused because his thoughts were bogged down in what was happening with Della.

“What Josephine just told you about—in on the bounty hunt,” the sheriff laughed. “A group of us are heading out tomorrow to do a round up. Mostly my Texas Ranger buddies, but you’re welcome to come. Seems like you could use a break from this place.” Lockhart nodded toward Della and Milton.

Hank didn’t answer. He watched as Della and Milton walked over to his table. He braced himself for an argument about how he’d flirted with Della, or bought her those dresses.

“Hello, Hank,” Della said sheepishly. “I noticed you have a guest with you and we wanted to come introduce ourselves.”

“This is Josephine,” Hank said, unsure why he was making the introduction for the sheriff’s sister. “Josephine, this is Della and her fiancé, Milton.”

Hank cringed at the words
fiancé
and
Milton
. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t look into Della’s eyes, and then betrayed himself. Those Bluebonnet-colored eyes were hard to resist. Her demeanor was cool and resigned, but he could see in her eyes the hurt she harbored beneath. She studied Josephine carefully. It seemed to Hank as if she didn’t want to be anywhere near their table, but Milton looked eager.

Hank noticed Milton nudge Della’s arm. “Josephine,” Della said in a tired voice. “Are you new to town?”

“I’d be happy to handle your banking needs,” Milton interrupted.
Of course
, Hank thought.
I should have known he was begging for business-and now he’s using Della to do his dirty work.

“Heavens, no,” Josephine said. “I live in Austin with my husband, Governor Winscott.”

Hank saw an instant wave of relief wash over Della’s face as the corners of her mouth turned up in a faint smile. Until then, he hadn’t realized Della would assume Josephine was with him. Della turned and met his gaze and for a moment, they were the only two at the table, lost in each other’s eyes—a gentle smile exchanged between them.

“Well, it’s nice meeting you,” Milton said abruptly, obviously realizing there was nothing in this introduction that he could capitalize on. He grabbed Della by the hand and pulled her with him as she glanced back at Hank one last time.

She isn’t happy,
Hank thought.
But what does it matter?
Her eyes had
always
shown she cared about him, but that had never convinced her to stray from her plans before. Hank was furious—at himself for developing these feelings and at Della for not believing in herself enough to get free of Milton. “Sheriff?” Hank said suddenly, “I think you’re right—I
do
need a break from this place. Count me in for the bounty hunt. When do we leave?
”