Page 1 of Mail-Order Bride Runaway
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One look and Della Epps knew he was not the sort of man she expected to meet when she got off the stagecoach. He was unshaven. That in itself wasn’t necessarily a strike against him. But his scruffy whiskers looked dirty. For certain, his clothes could use a good washing. Of course, if he had a wife those things could be corrected, but it was the feral look in his eyes that had her halt a few feet away from him.
“Mr. Hartman?” It had to be him. Victor Hartman—the man her mother had been in correspondence with for several months.
He nodded and took a step toward her… and another… putting him frighteningly close. “And who do we have here, eh?”
She edged backward. “Mrs. Epps is my mother. I’ve come to check on things before she travels out.”
His eyes narrowed to slits.
A shudder raced across Della’s shoulders and down her arms, curling her hand into knots around the handle of her satchel.
“I sent fare for a woman to marry. I’m more’n happy to have the younger Epps woman.” He grabbed her elbow, his fingers gouging into her flesh. “Come now, the preacher is waitin’.”
“Let me go.” Della jerked back, but it only served to make him tighten his grip. He dragged her after him, down the rutted street. This was not happening. She would not allow it. But her feet caught on the dirt proving it was. She tried to kick the man, but he avoided her attempt and laughed. The sound brought a burst of anger, intermingled with concern. She called out, but the stagecoach had departed in a cloud of dust and rattle of harnesses. Two men had made the journey with her to Gunders Corner, but they’d gone into the store. The street was empty. No one peered from the windows.
He was not going to get the better of her. Not while she had breath in her lungs. Gathering her strength, she twisted and managed to free herself, but before she got a step away, he latched on to her arm again.
“I mean to take home a wife so stop yer fightin’. Don’t make me use my fists on you.” He forced her up the path toward a house. “Preacher’s waitin’.”
“No man of God would make me marry you against my will.” Her voice quivered with anger and fear and more than a healthy dose of disgust at the unpleasant odor of the man.
“The preacher knows what’s good for him.”
She couldn’t overpower Mr. Hartman. It seemed she could expect no help from the preacher. She must calm herself and devise a way of escape. Della stopped struggling.
“That’s better.” Let him mistake it for acquiescence. Maybe it would cause him to let down his guard.
They entered a parlor. A man of the cloth stood waiting. His mouth pulled back as if he found this distasteful. But when Della looked at him, her eyes wide with a silent appeal for help, he swung his gaze away.
“Let’s get this done, preacher.” Mr. Hartman’s harsh tone grated through Della’s head.
Think. Think.An idea burst into her thoughts. Della shifted from one foot to the other and back again. “I need to use the facilities. Soon.”
“You plannin’ somethin’?”
“I’ve been on the stagecoach for hours with no rest stop.”
“Very well. But I’ll be watchin’.”
As if she thought otherwise. She made her way out the back door and down the trail to the outhouse. The entry faced toward Mr. Hartman who stood watching from the open door. But it was a distance away. She eyed her surroundings. She had only to cross the narrow alleyway to gain access to the buildings on the silent street she’d just left.Please, God, send a bunch of people into town so I can hide amongst them.
She slipped into the small structure and tended to her business. A crack between the boards allowed her to peer out. A wagon rolled to a stop in front of the store. Another rattled after it. She couldn’t tell if the second one stopped or continued. With the thud of many hooves and the dust they raised, half a dozen cowboys rode toward town.Thank you, Lord.If she timed her exit right…
She tidied her clothes and then opened the door. Turned to latch it closed then took a step toward the house.
Mr. Hartman watched her.
The preacher came into view in the window. He must have spoken to Mr. Hartman for the man turned.
It was now or never, while the man was distracted.
Della lifted her skirt so she wouldn’t trip and ran her fastest toward the main street.
“You can’t get away.” Mr. Hartman’s roar bugled after her.
I’m sure going to try.She skidded past the back of the store. The cowboys rode into town, noisy and dusty. Could she grab the leg of one of them and persuade him to carry her away? But they reined to a stop at the mercantile. The cloud of brown air that followed them almost choked her.
