Violet: Bride of North Dakota (American Mail-Order Bride 39) by Heather Horrocks Page B
Authors: Heather Horrocks
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Western, Short-Story, Religious, Christian, Inspirational, Bachelor, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, North Dakota, victorian era, Forever Love, Single Woman, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, runaway groom, Thirty-Nine In Series, Jilted Bride, Change Status, Northern Lights
Ads: Link
you go, brother, ask yourself this: Why do you not declare yourself to her? Let her make the choice.”
He looked at Violet again. In her light blue dress, she glowed with loveliness. The dress did, indeed, flow about her fetchingly.
He wanted her! He wanted her so much!
Turning, he made his way to the food table and loaded up. If he kept himself eating, perhaps he wouldn’t kill anyone this day.
He could not declare himself to another man’s bride, either. He would not.
I have been told by the ladies in Minot that I am pleasing to the eye.
(From letter by James Evans to Violet Keating mailed September 29, 1890)
Despite the warmth in church, when the door opened and more townsfolk entered, Violet shivered with the breeze. The Christmas festival had begun at Saturday noon, and the sun was high in the sky. It was a day that looked as though it should be warm—but the air belied that. It was cold.
James brought her hot chocolate.
Gratefully, she wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “Thank you.”
He sipped his own drink, which did not look to be cocoa, but alcohol of some type. “After we warm ourselves with our drinks, would you like to stroll about with me?”
“Is it not too crowded to stroll in the church?”
“Would you join me for a stroll around the church grounds, then? That would give us a few minutes of time by ourselves. We will be in full view of the entire town, if they just look out the windows or door.”
Unsure, finally she said, “All right. For a few minutes.”
She sipped slowly, but soon her chocolate was done.
Around her, her neighbors were laughing, a fiddler played tunes, and others dancing. There were tables laden with food along the far wall. People wore their Sunday best. Apparently, this would be the last celebration before the community was snowed in, and everyone was determined to have fun.
She caught sight of Daniel, who was hunched over a plate of food, his eyes intent on the plate. Everyone was having fun except Daniel. Her heart tightened. If only James hadn’t come back to town!
James set both their mugs on the table and tucked her hand in his elbow. “Let me get your coat.”
After they had bundled up for the cold, he held the door open for her. As they walked around the perimeter of the churchyard, James pointed out the flowers planted there and talked about the history of the building. As they reached a fence, he said, “I have something to show you.”
She followed him through a small gate into the gardens behind. The plants there looked as you would expect plants in November to do—ready to hibernate until spring.
“My mother planted this rosebush,” he said, pointing to a large bush along the fence, bare of flowers now. “Its blooms are a vivid red with a white stripe. Quite spectacular.”
“It does sound beautiful. I look forward to seeing them next spring.”
“I wish I had some to give you right now.”
Violet could feel herself blushing.
James seemed to be a thoughtful man. He was doing everything right. Well, except for leaving her at the train station. But since he’d come back to town, he’d been trying to woo her properly.
He was handsome, really almost pretty, as Daniel had called him. It would be easy to wake up to a sight like his face, and they would have delightful-looking children.
James stopped and turned to her, still holding her hand in the crook of his elbow, bringing their faces close. Looking serious, he said, “Violet, you are so beautiful. I very much want to make you my bride.”
She couldn’t help but see Daniel’s face before her—the face of the man she was growing to love. The face of the man who hesitated to pursue her. The face of the man who was staring at his food right now—instead of coming after her.
She couldn’t help thinking of the saying, A bird in the hand is better than three in the wood. James was asking her to marry him. Daniel was not. And a man who was ready to marry her was
He looked at Violet again. In her light blue dress, she glowed with loveliness. The dress did, indeed, flow about her fetchingly.
He wanted her! He wanted her so much!
Turning, he made his way to the food table and loaded up. If he kept himself eating, perhaps he wouldn’t kill anyone this day.
He could not declare himself to another man’s bride, either. He would not.
I have been told by the ladies in Minot that I am pleasing to the eye.
(From letter by James Evans to Violet Keating mailed September 29, 1890)
Despite the warmth in church, when the door opened and more townsfolk entered, Violet shivered with the breeze. The Christmas festival had begun at Saturday noon, and the sun was high in the sky. It was a day that looked as though it should be warm—but the air belied that. It was cold.
James brought her hot chocolate.
Gratefully, she wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “Thank you.”
He sipped his own drink, which did not look to be cocoa, but alcohol of some type. “After we warm ourselves with our drinks, would you like to stroll about with me?”
“Is it not too crowded to stroll in the church?”
“Would you join me for a stroll around the church grounds, then? That would give us a few minutes of time by ourselves. We will be in full view of the entire town, if they just look out the windows or door.”
Unsure, finally she said, “All right. For a few minutes.”
She sipped slowly, but soon her chocolate was done.
Around her, her neighbors were laughing, a fiddler played tunes, and others dancing. There were tables laden with food along the far wall. People wore their Sunday best. Apparently, this would be the last celebration before the community was snowed in, and everyone was determined to have fun.
She caught sight of Daniel, who was hunched over a plate of food, his eyes intent on the plate. Everyone was having fun except Daniel. Her heart tightened. If only James hadn’t come back to town!
James set both their mugs on the table and tucked her hand in his elbow. “Let me get your coat.”
After they had bundled up for the cold, he held the door open for her. As they walked around the perimeter of the churchyard, James pointed out the flowers planted there and talked about the history of the building. As they reached a fence, he said, “I have something to show you.”
She followed him through a small gate into the gardens behind. The plants there looked as you would expect plants in November to do—ready to hibernate until spring.
“My mother planted this rosebush,” he said, pointing to a large bush along the fence, bare of flowers now. “Its blooms are a vivid red with a white stripe. Quite spectacular.”
“It does sound beautiful. I look forward to seeing them next spring.”
“I wish I had some to give you right now.”
Violet could feel herself blushing.
James seemed to be a thoughtful man. He was doing everything right. Well, except for leaving her at the train station. But since he’d come back to town, he’d been trying to woo her properly.
He was handsome, really almost pretty, as Daniel had called him. It would be easy to wake up to a sight like his face, and they would have delightful-looking children.
James stopped and turned to her, still holding her hand in the crook of his elbow, bringing their faces close. Looking serious, he said, “Violet, you are so beautiful. I very much want to make you my bride.”
She couldn’t help but see Daniel’s face before her—the face of the man she was growing to love. The face of the man who hesitated to pursue her. The face of the man who was staring at his food right now—instead of coming after her.
She couldn’t help thinking of the saying, A bird in the hand is better than three in the wood. James was asking her to marry him. Daniel was not. And a man who was ready to marry her was
Similar Books
