Love Travels West Book 1: Westbound

I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul.~ —William Ernest Henley

Dannie wasn’t expecting much when she finally stepped off the train in Arizona Territory, but Clearbrook Station didn’t look all that bad—apart from the fact that nobody helped her disembark or offered to carry her carpetbag.

Feeling dusty and stiff, she looked up and down the bustling platform. A number of men were milling around, but not one of them looked respectable enough to be a judge. Of course, Justice Lawrence might have sent somebody else to meet her—but nobody seemed to be looking out for her at all.

The platform cleared, and the last few passengers walked away with their baggage. Dannie waited several long minutes more, until the platform was completely deserted. Finally, trying to suppress a rising panic, she made her way to the station master’s office.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she said across the counter. “My name is Danielle Preston. I just got off the train from New York. I was to be met by Judge Grant Lawrence. Has he inquired about me?”

“Grant Lawrence? The judge?” The station master, an old gentleman with gray hair and a beard, shook his head. “Shucks, miss. Mr. Lawrence is dead.”

Dannie’s eyes widened, and her mind went blank. For a few seconds, all she could do was stare at the station master, her tongue frozen with shock.

“Dead,” she finally managed to stutter out. “But…but how? I had a letter from him less than a fortnight ago.”

“Don’t know what a fortnight is, miss, but Judge Lawrence passed ’bout five days ago. Bullet through the head. Killed him clean.”

That was a little more detail than Dannie desired, and she grimaced. Margaret had warned her about the wild ways of the West, but this was unbelievable.

“What about his wife and daughter?”

“They went back East to stay with her folks. Took the morning train yesterday. Ain’t easy for a woman out here on her own, and she don’t got no family to help her out. Who were you in relation to them?”

“I was to be Miss Lawrence’s governess,” Dannie replied slowly. “I cannot believe I was not informed of this tragic turn of events.”

“She might have sent a letter,” the station master said with a shrug, “but no doubt it didn’t get to you in time. And the wires were down, so a telegram wasn’t an option.”

“They were down? Are they up now?”

“Ah, them wires. They go down, they go up, and they go down again. There’s no way of knowing until you’re at the post office.”

“I see.” There was a moment of stunned silence as Dannie tried to decide what she should do next. “I’ll need somewhere to spend the night,” she said at last.

The station master nodded his head in sympathy. “There’s a train back East at 9:12 tomorrow. I’ll see if I can find someone to take you to the hotel.”

“I’m much obliged.” Dannie managed a small smile.

Dead? Her employer, Mr. Lawrence, was dead? To think she had a letter from him just two weeks ago, and in this short space of time he had been murdered in cold blood.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Now she was stranded out in the middle of nowhere, with no money for the train back to civilization.

The station master brought a young man to assist her. Dannie, wide-eyed with dismay, followed him out of the station and to a wagon. He helped her up, then went off to collect her trunks.

“What on earth have ya got in there, lady?” he asked as he wiped the sweat from his face with a faded kerchief after loading her luggage. “Bricks?”

“Books.” Dannie was in no mood for conversation. She had too much on her mind.

As they pulled out of the station and drove down the wide, dusty, crowded street, Dannie gazed about in curiosity. The entire town seemed to be composed of this single street. Most of the buildings on either side were built of wood. Some of them had signs, some didn’t; some were quite fancy, others were rather rundown.

So, this was what a bustling town in the West looked like. Her native Collingham, back in England, was considered a small village—but it seemed so much more civilized.

“So um, ya married?” her driver suddenly asked, catching Dannie completely off guard.

“What an impertinent question,” she retorted. “What business is it to you, mister, if I am married or not?”

“My pa is the station master,” the boy went on, quite undeterred, “and when he retires, I plan to take his place. The pay is good. I help him now, and we’ve got a snug little house and a yard with chickens.”

For a moment, poor Dannie was rendered utterly speechless. “Are you…are you making me an offer of marriage?” she sputtered out at last.

“Reckon I am. What d’ya say? Seeing as Judge Lawrence is six feet under an’ his wife is gone, you wouldn’t want yer journey here to be an entire waste of time and money.”

“But…but you don’t know me from Adam!”

“You’re not so bad to look at, and what with all those books, I take it yer educated. Wouldn’t mind me an educated wife. Not many of the other folks got one.”

Dannie set her lips in a straight line and gave the youth a cold stare. “Just take me to the hotel,” was all she said.

The rest of the drive passed in silence until at last, they reached a two-story building with the words Callaway’s Bed and Breakfast painted on a large sign. Dannie sighed with relief at the sight of it.

Her less-than-charming driver helped her down and went to unload her luggage. Dannie watched him for a moment before stepping inside. A bell over the door rang as she opened it.

“Howdy, miss, what can I do you for?” the man behind the counter asked. His graying head was uncovered, and a kind smile brought a shine to his hazel eyes. “You just came off the train, I’m guessing.”

“I did.”

“Have a seat. I’ll bet you’re all tuckered out.”

Dannie gratefully sat down in one of the chairs. Even though she’d been sitting on the train for hours, her legs felt weak with exhaustion.

“One of them mail order brides, I take it. Did yer intended not show up?”

Dannie gave the man a puzzled look. He hardly seemed to notice and kept on babbling.

“Don’t worry. There are plenty of men out here looking for a wife. You’ll find yourself another husband soon enough.”

“It does seem as if suitors are quite plentiful out here,” Dannie mused as she cast a glance at the young man huffing inside with the first trunk. “But I didn’t travel out West for a husband. I was to be governess to Miss Lawrence, the daughter of the late judge.”

“Ah, that is an unfortunate turn of events,” the man sympathized. “We were all quite shocked when they discovered the judge dead in his office, but that is the way it goes out here. It’s a lawless country. By the way, my name is Caleb Callaway. What’s yers?”

“Danielle Preston.”

“That’s a right pretty name, little miss. I take it you’re not from anywhere near here. Come from London, by any chance?”

“No, not London. Collingham.”

“Well now, I was sure you were from England.”

“I am from England. Collingham is a little town in the north of the country, not far from the city of Leeds.”

The second trunk arrived. Dannie paid the driver, who asked her to think of his offer again and went off looking optimistic.

“Do they all propose to the first girl they come across?” Dannie asked Mr. Callaway. He laughed.

“Thomas Jackson is quite outspoken, but many men out here are desperate for a wife. There ain’t many single ladies around. So, let me get yer trunks to yer room. Will you be taking the train back East tomorrow, seeing as it didn’t quite turn out with the Lawrences?”

Dannie gazed at her luggage, then back up at Mr. Callaway. “In all honesty, sir, I can’t afford to pay my fare back. I spent most of my savings on the trip out. Mr. Lawrence was supposed to recompense me, but now he can’t. I’m not quite sure yet what I am going to do.”

“That is very unfortunate,” Mr. Callaway said sympathetically. “Very unfortunate indeed. But don’t you worry, I’m sure something will come up. Why don’t you settle down and rest from the trip?”

That was sound advice, and Dannie gratefully followed him to a room on the second floor. She would figure out what to do next once she had washed and slept. She needed to think and pray this whole situation through.

Maybe Margaret was right; maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I should have stayed in New York. Maybe I should have returned to England.

What was I thinking, coming out West all by myself?