Her Secret Past (Black Hills Brides Book 1) Page 4

  He grasped at Samantha’s hands again, looking straight into her eyes. “But Father,” she started to say.

  Pat removed one of his hands to silence her. “My dear, my beautiful daughter, please do this. If not for yourself, for me? Your safety means everything to me. How do you expect me to get better if I am always left to worry about you?”

  Pat reached over, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I know you just buried your husband and I know you feel like the world is turning against you. You may believe it isn’t right, now, but in time, when you have children of your own, you will understand all my decisions come from my love for you. This is the only way for you to be safe.”

  “Oh, Father…” Samantha started to huff as the tears fell down her cheeks.

  “Think of it as a second chance, for you to start again. To have another chance at a great life. I’ve read the advertisement and the reply. This man seems like a great man. He might give you what you are missing, what I know you feel you lost with James dying.” He wiped away her tears and smiled. “You just need to give him a chance.”

  He looked at his daughter’s eyes, like blue sapphires swimming in the sea and remarked at how he was going to miss her so much. He masked his sudden loneliness with a brave front. She looked down at the ground as if weighing her options silently in her head. And when she looked up again at him, he felt the anxiety crushing down on him lift from his shoulders, for he knew from her eyes the next words out of her mouth would be “Yes.”

  Chapter 5

  One week later

  Seth stood of the train station, looking up at the clock facing the town square. Dirt was kicking up around him as the hustle and bustle of the daytime hummed in the background behind him. It was a quarter past three and he knew he was incredibly early. The telegram he received less than five days ago indicated his bride-to-be’s arrival wouldn’t be until four that very afternoon. But he had been restless around his ranch, not paying attention to even the most mundane chores. When he accidentally kicked a bucket of water intended to be used for the garden behind his house, Tom thought it was best for Seth made his way into town so he could finish the rest of the work for the day.

  He hesitantly walked into the station, passing by a few older women he knew from town. They quietly waved at him, with one asking him how his day was. He obliged the older lady with a few words before excusing himself into the main waiting room to avoid any additional chatter as to what he was doing at the train station in the first place. Gossip in this town was few and far between and he knew if they had even the tiniest inkling of what (or rather who) he was waiting for, his name would on the lips of every person living within a 30-mile radius.

  While mail order brides were not unheard of (as Tom graciously reminded him at every refusal Seth had given him whenever he broached the subject), he knew with all the she-vultures of the small town circling him ever since he rode in, they would be commenting on why couldn’t he just settle for one of the good girls in town?

  He sat down on a nearby bench, stretching his long legs out. He had no interest in any of the girls in the town. They were all the same. Women who lusted after him, inappropriately fawning over him. They were too open, too outlandish, too flashy. He wanted a woman who was quiet, who listened to him, who was prim and proper in every sense of the word. The women out here were too wild for him.

  He knew no woman like that existed in this town (the only woman he had ever known like that gone forever), so deep down he was more than willing to list that advertisement for the east coast. He wasn't ashamed of his choice but he also didn't want to tirelessly defend it. His business was no one else's but his own. It was his life. That's why he moved out here against his father's wishes. He wanted to forge his own way.

  The sound of a steam brought him out of his thoughts as the train came barreling down the track. It was early, he mused to himself. Well good, he thought. The anticipation was not sitting well with him. He wanted to be rid of this anxiety, it was already seeping through his soul. Get the woman, take her to the preacher and be done with the whole ordeal. The train came to a stop, not a few feet from where he stood up. The smell of diesel hit his nostrils, the steam from the front engine billowing high through the stacks. It whimpered from the long trip and as if on cue, a door slid across on one of the train compartments and a small old man, the train conductor, stepped out. A few people trickled out of the cabin, the last of what appeared to be a short woman with long brown hair. He couldn't see her face, but being she was the only woman to exit, it had to be her.

  He walked over to the lady, gathering his thoughts as he stared at her profile. She was much meatier than he had originally thought and shorter, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He removed his hat and coughed to get her attention "Miss, I believe you were expecting..."

  The words died in this throat as the young lady turned around but she wasn't much of a young lady at all. She looked to be at least in her forties and there was an ungodly amount of rouge on her cheeks. She smiled at Seth and he could see she was missing a tooth. Her dress was old and tattered and one of her gloves had a hole in the finger. "My, my, aren't you a lovely gentleman," she said with a thickest southern accent. "Care to take a woman home?”

  Seth was honestly at a loss for words. He couldn't understand it. He looked around bewildered. The telegram said the woman would be wearing a purple dress with purple gloves, and the woman in front of him was wearing a purple dress with purple gloves, though the state of her clothing was in need of some repair. He scratched the back of his head. There must be a mistake. This woman was nothing like the picture he had received. His blood started to boil under the blaring sun, as he thought he had been swindled.

  He was just about to go into a tirade when he noticed from the corner of his eye a man appeared. He was also short and on the heavier side and he was hunched over catching his breath. "Matilda! You are here" he breathed, his breath finally catching up to him. He turned up his head and looked over at Seth. "Oh Mr. Jenkins, I didn't notice you were there."

  The older gentleman straightened out and Seth could finally make out his appearance as Mr. Smith, the owner, and keeper of the general store. Before he could utter any response, Mr. Smith leaned over and grabbed the woman by the arm, a little more forcefully than he would have thought a lady could be handled. "I see you have met my dear sister Matilda." Matilda looked annoyed at his grip and she instantly wiggled out of his reach and went back to smiling at Seth. Mr. Smith whispered to Seth "Don't mind the appearance. She's had a long ride from Georgia. Took a long time to get her here. She's had a bit of...well...trouble."

  Seth could imagine all the trouble that he was inferring about his sister. The woman could also hear his words; she turned and brandished her teeth at Mr. Smith and soon the two were bickering like old hens. Seth stood there baffled by the predicament, but not of the one standing in front of him. He clearly missed something as he scanned the platform. He could have sworn that the train was arriving today. And there was only one scheduled train arrival, which was the one sitting in front of them. And it was only him and the two squeaking birds, so he must have missed something.

  As his thoughts lingered on the telegram, he heard shouts coming from the ticket stand to his left. He turned his head, away from Mr. Smith and his dowdy sister, who were now yelling at each other to the point where he was red in the face, and looked at the woman who was making all the fuss. It was a young woman in a pale purple dress who was waving her hands in the air. She had unmistakable purple gloves on her fingers...

  Samantha had just about enough of this whole trip. She had spent five days cramped in a small cabin with no entertainment (as her Uncle Colin had explained she couldn't take much with her at first least they raise suspicions, so she couldn't take her books), only the passing scenery to keep her busy. Her thoughts dwelled on what she would be experiencing when she finally made it to her destination. What did this man look like? Was he tall? Was he old? She kept picturing a sho
rt bald man with a round stomach, who was as old as her father. But then she banished the thoughts from her head. It didn't matter what he looked like; she had promised her father she would make the best of the situation.

  She was so overjoyed when the train finally met its destination. She felt dusty from the trip and all she wanted to do was take a bath. She climbed out of her seat and walked down the narrow hallway to retrieve her one piece of luggage she could bring from the luggage compartment. But when she stepped into the compartment, there was nothing there. She stood on her tip toes, looking at the tall shelf. She could see it was empty. As she was standing there, a man walked by her wearing a conductor’s uniform. She gestured to him. "Excuse me sir, but my bag seems to be missing."

  He looked confused. "Sorry ma’am, but all the luggage has been taken by their owners. Are you sure it isn't in your seat?”

  Samantha inwardly groaned. She was in a mood and hated to be questioned. "No, I distinctly remember my bag being left here." In fact, not a few hours prior to this moment did she pass this cabin on her way to the bathroom and saw her bag nestled between two large leather cases. "And now it's not here. I would like to know where it went!" She exclaimed, a little more forcefully than she had intended to.

  The gentleman flinched at her words. "I'm sorry mi'lady. If you like, we can go to the ticket booth outside. Maybe someone brought it out for you." His tone didn't give her much confidence and judging from the way his beady eyes moved back and forth, she surmised he wasn't much confident in his answer either.

  She exhaled loudly and made fists with both her hands. Her fingernails made imprints in her palm as she sternly commanded herself to calm down. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her bag was outside. Someone had made a mistake, realized it, and safely deposited it at the ticket booth. All she had to do was walk outside and fetch it. "Yes, of course, it must be there," she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could. "Could you kindly direct me to the ticket booth?"

  He nodded quickly and directed her out of the compartment. When she stepped off the train, she first noticed how stifling hot it was, the air around her feeling as dry as a wooden plank. There was dust everywhere and when she breathed she could feel it cluttering her lungs. A distinct smell hit her nostrils she couldn't quite place. It was nothing like she had imagined. The platform was bare, except for a man and woman speaking in loud whispers to her left. She could view the waiting area before her, under a large wooden roof, with a few benches strewn about. There were no other people around the area; she found herself scanning the area, looking for her future husband, but there was no one.

  She found herself getting angrier. She came all this way and he wasn't even here waiting for her? Even though she hadn't much thought about the moment they'd meet, she knew this was not one of the conclusions she had imagined. "Mi'lady?" asked the conductor, snapping Samantha from her thoughts. "The ticket booth is this way." She allowed him to guide her to a small booth in the middle of the area with a large window and an older gentleman was a long beard standing inside, counting money. The conductor squeaked out a soft "Excuse me" and after a few minutes passed, Samantha grew restless.

  She slammed her hand on the counter. That got his attention as the old man jolted, his face springing up to hers. "How lovely of you to notice, as we have been standing here, waiting for you to grace us with an acknowledgement."

  Her words dripped sarcasm, but she was tired, hungry, and feeling abandoned in this strange place. The man in the window looked unfazed; his face had a stone-cold expression and the conductor, smiling apologetically, tried to diffuse the situation. "Um, the lady is inquiring as to whether a piece of luggage was dropped here by mistake."

  Without skipping a beat, the older gentleman clicked his tongue. “No, I’m afraid nothing has been dropped of here. Maybe the lady is mistaken?”

  There was a crackle in the air as the tension surrounding Samantha and the two gentlemen fused into an inferno. Her eyes blazed as she pressed both her hands on the counter. “I’m right here and I heard exactly what you said.” She turned to the little man to her left. “So, you are telling my luggage is gone? My only piece of home, gone forever?”

  The conductor seemed to shrivel at her loud voice, “Mi’lady, if you would just calm down, maybe the luggage is still in the…”

  That was it for her. Her self-preservation was gone. “Don’t you tell me to calm down! Do you know the week I have had? I’m tired of men telling what to do, making my decisions for me.” She started to raise her hands in anger. “I’ve been on that awful train for five straight days without a decent night’s sleep. All I want to do is go to my new home and you two are telling me my items are gone?”

  The older gentleman set down the money. “Miss, we didn’t say that your luggage was gone…”

  The conductor tried to cut in, “If we just go back to the train…”

  There was a cough behind Samantha that startled all three of them.

  They turned around the survey the origin of the noise. It came from a tall, muscular gentleman. His face was full of stubble and he was wearing a weary smile. He had on a white shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and brown trousers with large black boots. But what Samantha concentrated most on was his green eyes, which instantly sparked recognition on his part, but she knew she had never seen him before in her life.

  She had never seen anyone like him before in her life, she remarked as she was rendered speechless. He was handsome of course, but she had seen handsome men before. Her husband was as easy on the eyes as they come. But this man, for some reason, she was feeling her stomach turn in delight.

  Delight? That long train ride must have done something to her. She shook her head out of the trance and stepped forward to the gentleman. She squared her shoulders, having no patience left in her. “What do you want?”

  Seth was startled by her words, removing his hat and scratching his head. Were women from the east always so rude? “Uh, I believe you are the woman I was supposed to meet, Samantha O’Donnell? I’m Seth Jenkins.”

  Seth didn’t know what the proper greeting was for his future wife. Was he supposed to hug her? Give her a kiss? That seemed too personal for a first meeting and he didn’t want to spook her. Instead, he thrust out his hand for a handshake.

  Samantha stared at him and then at his hand. She looked startled and confused. He instantly regretted the movement and awkwardly slipped his hand into his pocket. “You’re Seth?” she questioned, her hands falling loosely from her hips so they rested at her sides.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, as he dipped his hat before returning it to his head. He turned to the small gentleman standing next to her, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but right there. “What seems to be the issue?”

  Samantha scoffed “I’ll tell you what the issue is, my luggage is gone!” she said, glaring at Seth as if he was the one responsible for her stolen luggage. He looked squarely at her, as her face turned to fire. She was more breathtaking then the photo he received in the mail. He was skeptical, thinking to himself for those days of agonizing wait, that maybe his mind had been playing tricks on him and she wasn’t as beautiful as the picture had represented. But he was wrong, she was a masterpiece. Piercing blue eyes and long curly brown hair hanging loosely down her back. She had an hourglass shape with slender arms and fingers and he wondered how her legs looked under her dress.

  Her anger rolled of her body and he thought he could see smoke coming out of her ears. He shook his head to come out of this trance. She may be beautiful, but she was a firecracker and at this juncture of their relationship, he needed to remind her who was in charge. “Yes, I heard from over there. You are looking for your luggage.”

  The small gentleman next to them finally stepped forward. “Yes, sir. We seem to have misplaced her baggage. We were trying to figure out where it had gone to.”

  Samantha whirled around to him. “Now it is misplaced? Well, maybe you should go along and find it then.”
The little man looked frightened by her tone and scampered on to the train to look for this disappearing bag. The man behind the counter seemed to pay no mind and went back to counting money.

  Because he didn’t want an audience, Seth grabbed Samantha by the arm and dragged her away from the earshot of the man in the booth. She gasped in outrage and seethed “What are you doing?”

  Once they were away from any prying ears, Seth looked at his bride-to-be with fierce eyes. “Why are you yelling at the poor man? He’s trying to locate your missing bag. You should treat him with more respect.”

  She stared at him like he had grown another ear. “Respect? Coming from the man who talked to me instead of at me.”

  Now Seth was the one seething. “I’m not one to poke the bear.”

  “So now I’m a bear?”

  “I didn’t say that…” Seth continued.

  “You just did!” Samantha countered.

  “It’s an expression.” Seth felt exhausted as if they had been fighting for a lifetime. “Sam, it’s just not…”

  “My name is Samantha. I refuse to be called anything else,” she huffed, crossing her arms around her waist like a child.

  Seth was beside himself. What had he gotten into? He was frustrated, so he couldn’t hold himself back from his next statement. “As my future wife, you are not speaking to me in such a raised voice.”

  “And as my future husband,” she answered, her voice drawing out every syllable, “you will not tell me what to do. I am not some cattle you picked up from the market.”

  Seth placed his hand on his face. “Cattle would have been more agreeable and a better investment,” he said under his breath.

  “I beg your pardon?” Samantha asked, her eyes narrowing at his words, knowing exactly what he had said.