Della: Bride of Texas (American Mail-Order Bride 28) (12 page)

Ethel’s eyes watered up in relief. “Thank you,” she cried. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go lie down a spell. I’m not good company lately.”

Hank and Della rose in unison. “If you need anything at all,” Della said, “please don’t hesitate to send one of the boys to fetch me. I can help with anything you need—cooking, laundry, cleaning…”

Ethel gave each of them a hug before showing them to the door. “Enoch always said you were a good man,” Ethel remarked.

Hank was touched by the words. It’d been a long time since a father figure had spoken of admiration for him, and he’d looked at Enoch as one of his respected elders in the community. If only he could be half the man as the legacy Enoch was leaving behind. Hank was sure of many things, but being someone everyone looked up to filled him with self-doubt and apprehension. He looked over at Della riding in his carriage. Her face was serene and Hank imagined that she was lost in thoughts about Ethel and how difficult it must be losing a man like Enoch. Della had been through many disappointments in her life—just as Hank had. All of a sudden, the most important thing to him in the world was to see her happy and for her to love him as much as Ethel loved Enoch. But could he ever live up to the kind of man she longed for him to be? Hank wasn’t sure, but he knew there was no other option than to try.

Chapter 15

Della and Hank had been inseparable all week. Any excuse they could find to be around each other, they found it. Hank made extra stops by the General Store, and Della came up with a million useless reasons to go ask Hank something about the store. Roy simply laughed it off—usually saying something along the lines of, “You two young’uns have fun!”

The weight had been lifted off Della’s shoulders and while she loved the feeling of freedom she had from breaking off her commitment to marry Milton, she also felt as if her roots in the community were growing stronger. Hank had been right when he told her Fort Worth was like a family. She had long since considered Roy and Mary her kin upon arrival, but others—Mabel and Pastor Littlejohn, Hannah and Samuel, Millie and Sheriff Lockhart, and even Annabelle and Lee—were like extended family that made her feel as if she were part of something bigger.

Tonight Della was having her first official date with Hank. He had invited Della, Millie and Sheriff Lockhart to have supper at his home. She’d heard tale of Hank Hensley’s estate, but never seen it with her own two eyes.

“What time will he be here?” Mary asked as she chatted while with Della while she was getting ready.

“Oh, he’s not coming,” Della explained. “Sheriff and Millie are fetching me because we’re going to Hank’s home.”

“I was hoping to meet him up close!” Mary complained. “Is he handsome?”

“Oh we shouldn’t be talking about such things,” Della said as she blushed. Somehow, Della sensed that Mary knew she was turning red. “But yes, he’s handsome.”

“What’s he like?” Mary asked, always wanting to get a feel for the person in her mind.

“He’s like a prince and a hero all rolled into one man.” Della’s voice took on a dreamy tone. “He’s funny and strong and handsome. When he grins, one side of his mouth curls up and…well…it feels like butterflies in my tummy when he’s around.” Della’s voice trailed off as she allowed herself to get lost in her daydreams.

“Much better than an oily chicken,” Mary laughed, referring to how Della had described Milton weeks earlier.

“
Much
better,” Della repeated, laughing a high, tinkling laugh that didn’t even sound like her. She brushed on a light dusting of pearl powder—a gift from Annabelle to all of the women who worked the triage center when the bounty hunter group returned home. She patted on a small amount of beeswax to her lips and added the tiniest amount of red hue to it so that it simply accentuated their pale pink color. Della had rarely worn beauty products, and she surely didn’t want to paint herself up like the girls from Hell’s Half Acre. But she couldn’t help but admire the way Annabelle’s skin appeared flawless, with just the right amount of coloring on her cheeks and lips.
And besides, it’s just a bit of color to highlight my better features
, she thought.

It only took a moment to remove the rag rollers she’d put in her hair the night before, releasing a fountain of golden locks that flowed down her back in large, soft curls. Della put on the brand new dress she had purchased yesterday when she realized she’d be going on her first date with Hank. It wasn’t too formal, but not as casual as the work uniforms he’d had made for her. Della had been saving up, and purchased a dress that Beatrice Reynolds hadn’t even put on the rack yet and from the store she never expected to be able to afford. It wasn’t like Della to splurge on herself, but she just couldn’t help it. She wanted to surprise Hank—do something totally out of character—something he’d never in a million years expect her to do. Being unpredictable was exciting and new to Della, and she liked the way it made her feel.

Sheriff and Millie Lockhart arrived to pick up Della just as the sun was beginning to set in the west. “Oh Della, you look stunning,” Millie said, admiring the gossamer-like fabric and the way the pale pink enhanced her natural beauty and made her look as if she’d been bathed in a setting sun.

“Thank you,” Della said, relieved because she’d felt nervous about how she would look in Hank’s eyes when he saw her like this for the first time.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky as to be escorting such pretty women to supper tonight,” the sheriff said. “Are we ready to go?” He held out both arms to walk Della and Millie to his carriage. The heat from earlier in the day had subsided and a gentle breeze drifted over the plains.

“How you settling in here so far, Della?” Millie asked. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else but Fort Worth now that I’ve been here so long.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if I could ever find a place I could call home,” Della said. “But when I imagine what Heaven must be like, all I can picture is Texas.”

“That’s how I felt, too,” Millie said. “You’ll have to stop by our house one day when the Bluebonnets are covering the hillside. It’s an amazing sight.”

“Is that near where Hank lives?” Della asked. “Out by y’all?”

Sheriff Lockhart laughed heartily. “No, not quite,” he said. “A local sheriff doesn’t make quite as much money as someone who owns as many businesses as Hank does. He own about 250 acres west of town.”

“That’s quite a bit of land!” Della exclaimed.

“Need it for the size of that house,” Millie giggled. “If you can call it a house. More like an estate. There it is, up ahead!”

Della looked up the road and saw a sight that took her breath away. It was drenched in the light from the setting sun and Della thought she’d never seen a place quite so beautiful. The mansions she had seen when her family visited Savannah once—and those in Massachusetts—paled in the shadow of this incredible beauty. The gate to the Double H Ranch was left open and as they rode through it, Della noticed the customized “HH” on the beautifully crafted wrought iron.

They rode a bit down the tree-lined entrance and then Della saw the house more clearly–-the front columns and the flanking wings on either side attested to the wealth of the owner of the home. It stood out as a landmark in the fledgling pioneer town just as Hank did among Fort Worth’s finest citizens—a bit different and out of place, but grand all the same.

“Welcome to the Double H,” Hank said as he bounded down the steps of the home’s entrance. He led them up the steps to the grand doors that stood open to welcome them and the trio entered into an entrance that a king would have been proud to call his own. “Millie, Sheriff…Della…you look breathtaking in that new dress.” Hank shook hands with the sheriff, gave Millie a polite hug, and took Della’s hand in his and gently kissed it as he brought it up to his lips.

Art lined the walls and although Della didn’t know much about fine art, she
felt
, rather than
knew
that this was the real thing. “You have a lovely home,” Della said shyly, admiring the art and expensive furnishings. She expected the type of Texas home you’d typically find on the prairie–-one with walls lined with antlers, guns, knives and other rustic elements that were manly and would show off the hunting prowess of the owner. But Hank’s home was just the opposite. Very tastefully decorated and one in which anyone would feel comfortable.

“Wait ‘til you taste the cooking,” Hank said, giving Della his arm and escorting them to the dining room. Dining
room
wasn’t quite the phrase Della would use for this massive room with two fireplaces—one on each end—that were large enough to hold an entire tree log. Again, fine art and tapestries graced the walls, but rather than making the room gaudy, they enhanced the richness of the home. The room could obviously hold a gigantic table that could seat a multitude of people, but for this occasion, the table in the center of the room was round, set with fine china and silver and a small, but elegant, vase of flowers in the center. Hank’s servants emerged from the kitchen, pulling out chairs for the diners and placing napkins on their laps before disappearing for a time to bring the beverages so they could begin serving supper.

It was the best meal Della had ever tasted in her life—even better than the fried chicken Mabel fixed at potluck meals. It consisted of roasted tenderloin of beef with an au jus sauce that was seasoned perfectly as an accompaniment to the meat. There were green beans and potatoes in a casserole that was so delicious, Della thought she could live on it forever—and pickled beets that Hank said his cook puts up every year. The conversation was light and fun and the company was relaxing. Della couldn’t imagine having to attend something similar with Milton and she counted her blessings for being free from that horrible fate.

“I’ve got something special planned for dessert,” Hank announced, rising from the table. “We have to drive a ways to get there, but I promise you it’ll be worth it.”

The foursome walked outside and were greeted by two wagons filled with hay—one for Millie and the sheriff and the other for Hank and Della. Soft blankets were spread out on the hay for comfort, and each wagon was being driven by one of Hank’s servants.

“A hayride!” Millie exclaimed. “Why, I haven’t done one of these since I was a young child.” The sheriff helped Millie into the wagon before climbing up beside her.

“We’ll meet you there!” Hank said, helping Della into his wagon. They sat against the side, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the vast expanse of Hank’s property. It was dark now, but the moon shone down on the hillside, giving just enough of a glimpse to make Della think it was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. She felt warm and protected next to Hank and knew she would remember this moment in her life forever.

“It must be beautiful during springtime,” Della said softly.

“I’d love for you to see it,” Hank said, wrapping his arm around Della so that she could lean against it instead of the hard side of the wooden wagon. “The Bluebonnets only last a short amount of time here, but something is always blooming or growing to catch your eye…kind of like you tonight.” Hank touched his cheek to Della’s and squeezed her shoulder.

Della was happy for the darkness so Hank wouldn’t see how red her face had become. “Why, thank you, Hank. This has been an incredible evening.”

“It’s funny,” Hank mused. “I have the perfect place for having friends and entertaining, but I rarely have people over unless it’s out of town dignitaries or someone else that Fort Worth wants to impress.”

The wagon pulled up to an area that seemed familiar to Della. She couldn’t quite place it in the nighttime, but the sounds and scents brought back memories. “Is this the pond?” she gasped, realizing Hank had led them to the same beautiful pond where they’d had their first picnic together. Only on this night, a roaring fire had been prepared by Hank’s staff, and there was a beautiful table set up with fine dessert china and silver and comfortable seating had been temporarily placed near the fireside.

“Yes,” Hank admitted. “The first time we came, we entered from the other side of the property.”

“Hank you’ve really outdone yourself,” Millie exclaimed, as their eyes widened at the array of desserts.

The table held all sorts of sweet delicacies for sampling. There was Apple Crumble, Peach Cobbler and cream, layered pecan cake and creamy puddings. “Don’t worry about eating it all,” Hank laughed. “I told the crew they could have all that was left and they’re looking forward to it.” 

“You’re making the rest of us look bad,” Sheriff Lockhart said. “I might have to toss you in the calaboose for this blunder.” They all laughed before quieting down to listen to the nighttime sounds at the pond—frogs, crickets and other nocturnal insects serenaded them as Hank’s staff quietly cleared the dishes and leftover desserts and coffee.

The four sat languidly around the fire, satisfied and happy and relishing the moment. “I’m afraid we have to be getting back,” Millie said, stifling a yawn. “I’m not used to being out this late.”

“You two go on home and I’ll get Della home,” Hank said. Back east, this would never have been acceptable, but Della had learned out in the frontier towns, things were a little more lenient…relaxed.

“Can’t thank you enough for a fine evening,” the sheriff said, shaking Hank’s hand and giving Della a hug. He helped Millie up into the wagon once again and Hank and Della watched as they rode away in the moonlight.

Della started to walk toward their wagon, when Hank grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him. They stood facing each other under the stars, the last bits of wood crackling in the fire nearby. “Don’t go just yet,” he said softly.

“Hank…I…” Della stammered, unsure of what to say or do in such a situation.

“Della?” Hank asked. “Do you think maybe someday you could see yourself here with me? I mean, assuming you figure out I’m not such a bad person.”

“I…I
think
I could,” Della hesitated. “I’m just not…”

Hank leaned down and gently kissed Della’s lips. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it lingered more than a peck, and Della found herself breathless—her head spinning as if she might faint. “Don’t answer now,” he whispered. “Just think about it.”

Della nodded, relieved that he wasn’t demanding an answer she wasn’t prepared to give. It had only been a short time since she’d been free from Milton, and the last thing she wanted to do was risk jumping into a relationship with a man who had the ability to complicate things and ruin her vision of an orderly and well-planned life.

Hank held her hand as they walked back to the wagon. She laid her head on his arm on the ride back, lost in thought about that kiss and what it meant to her. Hank turned his head and kissed the top of Della’s head, resting his cheek on her head as they watched the stars shoot across the Texas sky.