Read Tempting Prudence: The Bride Train Online
Authors: E.E. Burke
Tempting Prudence: The Bride Train
Tempting Prudence
Book 3, The Bride Train
E.E. Burke
Copyright
Tempting Prudence
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2016 E.E. Burke.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book in whole or in part in any form.
Cover Design by Erin Dameron-Hill
Train photography by Matthew Malkiewicz
Digital formatting by Author E.M.S.
Published by E.E. Burke
ISBN eBook 978-0-9969822-8-3
Table of Contents
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the moonshine-making ancestors.
Prologue
Taken from an advertisement posted by the Missouri River, Fort Scott & Gulf Railroad in Eastern U.S. newspapers:
Eve, Find Your Adam in the Garden of the World!
Single young ladies of good reputation desiring to emigrate west for the purpose of marriage may apply to the Young Ladies Immigration Society for free travel to southeastern Kansas, where hardworking settlers are eager to make their acquaintance and become steadfast husbands. Applicants must be free to wed, of marriageable age, preferably between the ages of 18 and 25, without deformities, debts or other encumbrances. Dance hall girls, circus performers and soiled doves need not apply. Must provide references.
From a letter dated April 8, 1870, written by Mrs. A. Langford, president of the Young Ladies Immigration Society and honorable member of the MRFS&G Railroad Board of Directors, to Mr. R. Hardt, newly hired land agent in Cherokee County, in regard to the success of the society’s matrimonial efforts:
The first bride train arrived in Girard, Kansas, on March 15. These young women, all of them respectable ladies, remained single for no more than a week. They have already had a calming influence on the unrest in Crawford County. We anticipate the same effect will be felt in Cherokee County subsequent to the delivery of more young women who are able to meet the men’s matrimonial needs.
However, you must be aware the arrival of the prospective brides did not stop the Land League from stirring up trouble. The insufferable rebels are worse than an infestation of rattlesnakes and used our rally as a distraction. Whilst some men bid for picnic baskets, others slithered off to burn railroad ties. Our loss was catastrophic. Beware, lest the same thing happen to you. The sooner matches are arranged the better.
Rest assured, the railroad’s board remains committed to this program, which will have its intended effect. Facilitating marriage isn’t solely a benefit to the railroad. It is for the good of the country. Lawlessness and savagery will not have the last word! The West will be settled, one bride at a time.
Chapter 1
May 24, 1870, Centralia Settlement, Southeastern Kansas
Prudence Walker possessed neither beauty nor a sweet nature. Facts she had accepted long ago. She had in her favor a strict upbringing, which had kept her from straying off the narrow path and had taught her the value of diligence in all things, including cooking.
“He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand: but the hand of the diligent maketh rich.” She quoted one of her father’s favorite proverbs, as she gave the potatoes another good whisking to ensure the fluffy texture her mother had insisted on.
If an eligible bachelor showed up at the Lagonda House for the noontime meal, she might snag a husband today. She certainly hoped so. That’s why she’d taken the train west, to the end of the line. This was her last chance at matrimony.
Having reached the mature age of thirty unmarried, she wouldn’t hold out hope if she weren’t in a place where men outnumbered women ten to one. The odds had encouraged her to answer a railroad advertisement seeking respectable young women willing to immigrate to southeastern Kansas for the purpose of marriage.
The ad hadn’t mentioned that the majority of available men were uncouth, given to violence and indulged in all manner of vices.
Prudence chose to believe that out there somewhere was a
Daniel
—a God-fearing, peaceable, temperate man—in need of a likeminded wife. Maybe today she would meet him.
She draped a checkered cloth over the bowl to the keep the potatoes warm and checked on the chicken sizzling in a cast iron frying pan on top of a black box stove. There were worse places to be alone than in a well-appointed kitchen. Transferring the fried chicken to a china platter, she set it on the worktable next to the mashed potatoes and snap-peas. Soon, the bread would be ready.
Laughter drifted in from the dining room. Her friend Hope peeked around the door. “Are you still cooking?”
“I’ll be finished soon.” Prudence allowed she would finish sooner if she had help. Thus far, her friends hadn’t offered. In all fairness, she hadn’t asked for help, either. The other ladies, who had also arrived on the Bride Train, had picked up different chores in return for room and board. Not an ideal arrangement, but it would only be temporary. Soon, their prayers would be answered and they would find suitable husbands.
“We’re walking down to the mercantile to see Mr. Appleton’s selection of hair ribbons.” Hope brushed a fringe of mahogany curls off her forehead. She could use a few ribbons. Her hair coiled every which-way, resisting all efforts to tame it. Oddly enough, Hope didn’t seem to care that her hair misbehaved.
“Do come with us, Prudence!” Delilah appeared over Hope’s shoulder. Her saucy black curls were created with a hot iron and pulled back with decorative combs. Prudence admired the style, but she would never wear something that would make her appear vain. She was content to braid her hair into a coronet or pull it back into a brown snood the same color as her hair.
“Thank you for asking me along. I don’t need any ribbons.”
“I’ll find you a pretty one, anyway,” Hope promised. “And we’ll be back in time to help you serve dinner.”
“Thank you, I’d appreciate that.”
A yeasty smell filled the kitchen as Prudence pulled two pans out of the oven. Placing the loaves on their sides, she covered the warm bread with a cloth to keep the crusts soft. She loved baking bread, from preparing the spongy dough to kneading it smooth to removing a fresh baked loaf. Some found the process tedious, but making bread gave her satisfaction. The kitchen had always been the place she felt most comfortable. In here, she didn’t need to be beautiful or desirable. She only had to be competent.
A loud banging came from the back door. Another delivery. As summer approached, more farmers were arriving in town with fresh fruits and vegetables. One of them might turn out to be the kind of man she hoped to marry.
She removed the soiled apron and smoothed her skirt. She’d worn the serviceable gray wool, knowing she would be working in the kitchen. If she had time, she would change into the brown calico for dinner. Pausing by a small mirror mounted on the wall near the back, she checked to make sure there was no flour on her face. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Solemn brown eyes gazed back at her. Would the caller find her attractive? Her nose was straight, but a tad too large to be considered classic. Her upper lip looked thin compared to an absurdly full lower lip. Her brother had teased her when they were children, pointing out her perpetual pout. Her odd mouth would be less noticeable if her chin were less square.
Rapid banging jolted her out of her daze. Good thing whoever it was hadn’t given up and left. She would’ve missed her chance to meet him. That’s what came from being overly concerned with her appearance. No wonder her father had prohibited mirrors except for the small ones on washstands.
She opened the door with what she hoped was a winsome smile.
Three men stood at the bottom of the few steps leading out to the back yard. Cookie cutter replicas of many of the Western men she’d encountered: unkempt and unshaven, wearing dusty denims and scuffed boots and felt hats with brims that flopped over their eyes.
Prudence hid her disappointment behind a polite smile. “May I help you?”
The tallest man, whose coal black beard reached his chest, tugged his hat brim. “Mornin’ miss, um…”
Politeness required they make introductions first, but the men out here seemed to care little for good manners.
“Walker,” Prudence supplied.
“Miss Walker. Right. You’re one of them women who came to town on the Bride Train. I ain’t too good with names.”
She happened to be very good with names, and faces, and she couldn’t recall seeing these three in town and was certain she hadn’t taken deliveries from them.
“Yes, I arrived on the train…” Prudence glanced past them at a wagon hitched behind two mules, which didn’t appear to be loaded with anything, save a coffin. Her heart grew heavy at the memory of two pine boxes in the back of her brother’s wagon. Were the men on their way to bury a deceased relative? “My condolences for your loss.”
“Yes ma’am, thank you…” The youngest looking of the three, a gangly, ginger-haired fellow with bright red whiskers, held his hat in his hands. “We thought we might find a kind woman like yourself who’s willing to help…”
The purpose for their visit became obvious. Possibly, the men had spent the last of their money on a coffin and couldn’t afford to pay for dinner. She hadn’t prepared for extra mouths to feed. Yet, she’d never turned away someone who was hungry. The guests could make do with one loaf, and a few pieces of fried chicken wouldn’t be missed. Prudence glanced over her shoulder. No one had come into the kitchen, so she wouldn’t be seen giving away food.
“Wait here. I’ll get you something to eat.”
“No ma’am, we don’t need a handout.” The younger man reached out. If he stood closer, he might’ve grabbed her skirt. “All we need is your help. We got a hurt pup.”
“An injured dog?” Prudence’s heart went out to the poor creature. Caesar, their family’s sheepdog, had been her dearest companion. Losing him had broken her heart. “What happened? Did the dog tangle with a snake? Or was it a wagon? People drive too carelessly, just yesterday, I was nearly run down…”
She closed the door and set out for the wagon with the men trailing, so close she could smell the tobacco smoke that clung to their clothes and the unpleasant odor of stale sweat. Thank goodness they weren’t suitors. She had no desire to curl up beside a husband who smelled worse than his horse.
The third man, who’d been silent, moved up next to her. His bulky shoulders and heavy brow reminded her of her uncle’s bulldog. Her heart sped up. She disliked being boxed in. He seemed oblivious to the impropriety, and appeared more worried than ill tempered.
“I was raised on a farm, so I have some experience with nursing animals,” she assured him. “Where is the poor thing?”
“Show her,” the bearded man’s command came over her shoulder, making her nerves jump.
The bulky man grumbled under his breath as he shifted the coffin lid to one side.
Startled, Prudence took an abrupt step backwards, bumping into the tallest man’s chest. Flustered, she moved forward and peered into the coffin.
No corpse. No dog. A sick joke, that’s all it was, and this wasn’t the first time she’d fallen for mean-spirited foolishness. When she’d been fourteen, the leader of the boys at school had put a dead cat in a box and presented it to her as a gift.
She turned on the freckle-faced man, who’d withdrawn a large blue handkerchief from inside his coat. “This isn’t funny, if that’s what you think. There is no injured dog, is there?”
