Tempting Prudence: The Bride Train Read online

  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

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Also by E.E. Burke

  Follow E.E. Burke

  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 abs
urdly 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?”

  “Sure there is…” The young man’s tone rang with sincerity, almost convincing her that she’d misjudged. “And you’re gonna get to meet him.”

  Unease lifted the short hairs on the back of Prudence’s neck a split second before the bearded man behind her locked a beefy arm around her neck.

  A wadded handkerchief cut off her scream.

  * * *

  The coffin lid slammed shut.

  Prudence’s shrieks came out muffled. One of the devils had gagged her, while the other two bound her wrists and ankles. They’d tossed her, struggling, into the pine box, sealed it and then sped away.

  The wagon lurched and hopped, bouncing her up and down.

  She writhed, twisted her wrists and kicked her bound legs, winced at every bruising jolt. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t free herself. She was at the mercy of three men who thought nothing of stealing a woman. What kind of creatures would do that? Where were they taking her? What would they do with her once they reached their destination? The likely outcome was too horrible to consider.

  Prudence bit down on the cloth, grinding with her teeth. That didn’t work, either. What should she do? What could she do?

  Pray without ceasing. That’s what her father would’ve advised.

  “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come thy will be done…” Her heart thrashed in her chest like a trapped bird beating its wings against glass. The sound reverberated in her ears, drowning out her ability to think. She couldn’t recall the rest of the prayer. Thy will be done…will be done…will be done…”

  No! This couldn’t be God’s will.

  She labored to breathe as her chest grew tight and her throat closed. Nothing happened outside the Lord’s will. Her father declared this from the pulpit with absolute certainty. He’d never wavered in his beliefs, never weakened…not like her.

  Maybe the Almighty was angry with her. The Lord knew she longed for a husband and children. She wouldn’t be satisfied to remain single and miserably alone, even if that was His will. Forgive us our trespasses… Forgive me…

  The wagon dropped, and her breath left her lungs as the coffin lifted into the air. As abruptly, the pine box slammed down. Her shoulder struck one side, the pain barely registering before she was flung to the other side and treated to the same punishment.

  A thud, followed by creaking wood, indicated someone sat on the lid. Muted curses were followed by low laughter. How could humans be so heartless? Maybe they weren’t human. Angels had visited earth. Why not demons?

  Fear slammed into her with the force of a tidal wave, dragging her under…suffocating her… Her racing heart felt nigh unto bursting.

  Calm down. Take slow breaths. Don’t pant like a dog. Above all, keep your wits about you.

  She had weathered other storms—the horror and grief when her best friend had drowned, the anguish over the loss of a beau who’d died in the war, a disastrous wedding, the loss of both parents within days of each other. She could make it through this crisis if she regained her composure and used her head for something besides a hat rack.

  First, assess the surroundings.

  A gleam of light shone through a pencil-sized hole above her feet. In her panic, she hadn’t seen it before. So, they hadn’t planned on smothering her, but they had planned on abducting her. What had they asked? If she was one of the women who’d arrived on the train. That meant they were after one of the brides. Had they singled her out? The thought that they had been watching her made her skin crawl.

  Whoever they were, whatever the reason for their bizarre behavior, they were up to no good.
r />   If she could draw attention… She hammered the side of the coffin with her heels. Someone pounded on the lid, followed by more laughter. The noises drowned in the rattle and rumble of wheels rolling over rough ground.

  “Nobody saw…got clean away…”

  Prudence strained to hear the muted conversation. Got away to where? The town, such as it was, ended at the hotel. From there, the road led south. At a fork, the road veered southeast and followed the railroad tracks. Another path curved west and ended at the edge of the vast grassland. Trapped, with limited use of her senses, she had no way of knowing which direction they’d gone.

  Her continued attempts to draw attention by kicking the coffin were ignored.

  The wagon rolled on for what seemed like an eternity.

  Perspiration poured from her skin and soaked her undergarments. She grew parched. The sun had turned the pine box into a sweltering oven and being unable to move about had made her limbs lose feeling. Her arms were the first and then her legs. Numbness spread like an insidious disease. Even her mind grew numb. Was this what it felt like to die?

  Her parents spoke of their lives passing before their eyes. Prudence imagined a whirling zoetrope like one she’d seen at the fair. Hers didn’t feature colorful, exotic images. Every picture remained the same. Dull. Unremarkable. Uninteresting, like her. The decision to immigrate west and marry a virtual stranger had been the most exciting thing she’d ever done. It might turn out to be the last thing she ever did.