The Substitute Bride. Janet Dean
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small stash of money she’d hidden for just such an emergency. How low would her father stoop to feed his compulsion? She dug to the bottom of her bag and found enough coins to pay the driver. She wilted against the cushions.
How would she buy a ticket out of town?
Well, she’d face that later. Knowing she had no money, Papa wouldn’t look for her at the depot, at least at first.
She wasn’t going to walk down an aisle tomorrow morning, so how bad could her situation be?
Right before dawn, Elizabeth woke. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, as much as the bench would allow, listening in the dark to every sound. But Papa and Reginald hadn’t come. In fact, no one had paid the least bit of attention to her.
She twisted her back to get out the kinks, sending three sections of the Chicago Tribune sliding to the floor. Thankfully the news that she’d bedded down at the depot wouldn’t make the Society Page. Not that anything she did these days merited a mention.
Carrying her possessions, she tossed the newspapers into the trash and strolled to the lavatory. Through the window, the rising sun lit the sky with the promise of a new day. What would this day bring?
In front of the mirror in the large, tiled room, she pulled a brush through her hair, twisted it into a chignon, and then pinned her hat in place.
The distant shriek of a whistle shot a shiver along Elizabeth’s spine. She grabbed her belongings and hustled to the platform. Porters hauled trunks and hatboxes to baggage carts while soon-to-depart travelers chatted or stood apart, sleepy-eyed. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. A ticket. She needed a ticket. But tickets cost money. What could she do?
Smokestack belching and wheels squealing, the incoming train overshot the platform. Amid clangs and squeaks, the locomotive backed into position. Soon passengers flowed from the doors to retrieve luggage and hail hacks.
Elizabeth had to find a way to board that train. Her stomach piped up. Oh, and a spot of breakfast.
Near one of the station’s exits a robust, plainly dressed young woman huddled in the corner weeping. Passersby gave her a brief glance then moved on. The stranger met Elizabeth’s gaze. Her flawless skin glowed with health, but from the stricken look in her eyes, she was surely sick at heart.
Some inner nudge pushed Elizabeth toward her. “Can I help?”
“I…I can’t go through with it. I can’t marry him.”
Another woman running from matrimony. “Who?”
“The man who sent me this.” Out from the woman’s hand stuck a ticket, a train ticket. “Eligible bachelors are few and far between, but…” Tears slid down her ruddy cheeks. “I’m homesick for my family already and I’ve only come as far as Chicago.”
Pangs of longing for Martha and Robby, even Papa, tore through Elizabeth. She’d left a note, but that wouldn’t stop them from worrying. Worse, Papa and Reginald might appear at any moment.
“That’s my train.” The stranger pointed to the rail cars across the way. “I feel terrible for spending his money on a trunk full of clothes, then leaving him in the lurch. He’s a fine Christian man and doesn’t deserve such treatment.”
Elizabeth’s stomach tangled. A twinge of conscience, no doubt for neglecting church since Mama died. For not heeding the Scriptures that Martha read each morning while Papa hid behind the headlines and she and Robby shoveled down eggs. No doubt the reason God hadn’t heard her prayers.
Her gaze latched onto her means of escape. “I need to leave town. What are you going to do with your ticket?”
Brushing at her tears, the young woman’s sorrowful eyes brightened then turned thoughtful. “The ticket is yours—if you want it.”
“You’re giving your ticket to me with no strings?”
“Well, not exactly no strings.” The woman gave a wan smile. “More like a tied knot.”
“What do you mean?”
“My groom’s expecting Sally Rutgers…me. If you’re up to starting a new life, take my place.”
Elizabeth took a step back. “I couldn’t.”
“If you don’t like his looks, use this round-trip ticket to take the next train. That was my plan.”
As Elizabeth scanned the throng milling on the platform, her mind scampered like hungry pigeons after a crust of bread. Marry a stranger? There had to be another way to take care of Robby without marrying anyone.
Her heart skipped a beat. Not fifty yards away, Papa, looking handsome, vital and by all outward appearance, prosperous, stood talking with Reginald. From under Reginald’s bowler, white tufts of hair fluttered in the breeze.
Twisting around, Elizabeth grabbed Sally’s arm. “Tell me about this man.”
“He lives on a farm.” Sally sighed. “Oh, I doubt that appeals to a fine lady like you.”
A farm. Robby’s dream. Was this God’s solution? “How will I know him?”
Sally removed a stem of lily of the valley from the collar of her traveling suit and pinned it to the bodice of Elizabeth’s dress. “Wear this, and he’ll find you.” She checked the nearby clock. “Better hurry. Your train leaves in ten minutes.”
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. Papa and Reginald had stopped a porter, probably giving her description. She had nowhere to go except back to Reginald. She’d rather ride a barrel over Niagara Falls.
That left her one alternative. Wear the lily of the valley and take a gander at the groom.
“Where to?” she asked.
“New Harmony, Iowa.”
Where was that in Iowa? Did it matter? In Iowa was a farm, the answer she sought.
Clutching the ticket in her hand, Elizabeth thanked Sally, then dashed for the train. She boarded and found her seat, careful to avert her face. Within minutes, the engine worked up steam and lumbered out of the station. Once she’d presented her ticket to the conductor, she lost the hitch in her breathing.
The seat proved far more comfortable than the depot bench and she nodded off. Her last thought centered on the man who had sent for a bride.
What would she find in New Harmony, Iowa?
New Harmony, Iowa
Pickings were slim in New Harmony.
One last time, Ted Logan started down the list of the single women in town. There was the schoolmarm who’d bossed him like one of her errant pupils before they even made it out the door. He wouldn’t let himself be pulled around by the ear. Or subject his children to a mother who wore a perpetual frown.
And then there was Ellen, Elder Jim’s daughter, a sweet, docile creature who quoted the Good Book at every turn. With the church and all its activities at the center of her life, he doubted she possessed the gumption to live on a farm.
Strong as an ox, the blacksmith’s daughter could work alongside any man. But Ted couldn’t imagine looking at that face for the rest of his life. Well, he might’ve gotten used to her face, if she’d shown the least bit of interest in his children. From what he’d seen, she preferred the company of horses.
Then there was Agnes, the owner of the café, who came after him with the zeal of a pig after slop and appealed to him even less. Something about Agnes set his teeth on edge. Maybe because she forever told him he was right and perfect. Was it wrong to hope for a woman with a bit of vinegar? One who wasn’t afraid to set him straight when he went off on some tangent? And how would she handle his home, family and the café?
All godly women, but most weren’t suitable mothers for Anna and Henry. And nothing about any of them drew him.
That left