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Dear Diary,
I am off! I cannot imagine what the city shall be like compared to Valley Glen. I pray that it will not overwhelm me, and that Judge Foster is a kind man. If only I could know for sure... but alas, only time shall tell.
Harriet looked out the window at the approaching station as her train pulled into Helena. It was huge. She wondered if Sarah had been as astounded by it when she'd arrived as Harriet was now.
"Oh!" she cried, turning to the elderly woman next to her. "Do you see the mountains? Are they always so big?"
The woman smiled kindly. "First time in Montana, is it?"
Harriet nodded, rocking Issie gently in her arms as she began to stir. Issie's eyes fluttered open for a moment then closed almost as fast. Harriet was glad. She did not want Issie waking quite so soon.
The train came to a stop and Harriet got off. Her eyes moved across the station, searching for the judge. He had promised to meet her here. She was terrified their first encounter would not go well. She had failed to mention a few things about herself, most specifically that she had a child.
She had responded to a few mail order bride ads before his, and the men had not responded favorably back to her when learning she had a nine-month-old daughter. So, she had simply left that bit of information out when writing back and forth with the judge. He had two small children of his own, so it stood to reason that he should not have a problem with hers.
She hoped.
Harriet began to walk, searching the platform for a tall man in a black sack coat. Her eyes kept going back to the mountains, though. She could not peel her eyes from them. They seemed to surround her. She stared at the white peaks and lush green treetops as though she were seeing heaven. Valley Glen had nothing like this. There were no mountains where she was from, only flat farmland. She had seen corn grow high enough to touch the roof of a house but she had never seen anything like this.
The sky above her was so blue it was like looking into Issie's eyes the day after she was born. Her eyes were still blue even now, though they had darkened some. The air was moist. She could feel the humidity on her face, so different from the dry air she had left behind. Indiana seemed to be nothing but dry these last few years, though the rains had finally started to return in the last few months. It had given Tom and Henry hope that they might develop a decent crop this season. They had not been happy with her when she'd told them she was leaving. Henry especially. The money had helped to soothe it over but it had not been enough to soothe their worries. She would have to write them soon.
Before their parents were taken in the fire during her childhood, their mother had often said that twins had a certain connection no other sibling could match. She feared it was true. As much as she loved Tom, it had hurt her most to leave Henry.
She took a deep breath and began to study the faces of the people around her. The women wore fashionable dresses, much finer than the ones she and Issie wore. Issie was a child, so no one could blame her for dressing plainly. But Harriet felt the eyes of the women fall on her, scrutinizing her as they hurried past. She looked down at her simple farm dress. It was a light blue with slight ruffling at the back. She wore her petticoat but no bustle. She'd only had one and it had fallen apart on her some time ago. She had never bothered to replace it as they hadn't the money.
The men were all dressed in frock coats and sack suits with wingtip collars. She had no idea how she would pick the judge out from amongst the many men who strolled past her. She had thought that his elegant style of dress would set him apart but she understood now that that was how all men dressed in the city.
Two women in silk dresses with large bustles hurried past her. They nodded to Harriet but when they were past her they leaned in to each other, whispering. One of them shot a look to Harriet back over her shoulder and they burst into giggles. Harriet suddenly wanted to hide from these people with their buckets of money and their patronizing looks. She especially wanted to hide Issie from all of this. She had made a mistake by coming here; she saw that now. She would never fit in.
"Excuse me, miss," a man said. Her heart lightened at once. She turned to the man, ready to greet Judge Foster. Perhaps now that he was here, she would feel better. But she saw almost at once that the man who spoke to her was not Judge Foster. He could not be. He wore no suit, only a dirty white shirt and even dirtier trousers. He smiled lecherously at her.
"What do you want?" Harriet asked him.
"Your money," he said, "and maybe a kiss." He was drunk. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and abhorred it. It was not even noon.
"Get away from me," she yelled, taking a step back and looking around for help. It appeared as though no one had even noticed her situation. They continued past her without stopping.
"I need six bits. I need a drink."
"You've had quite enough of that already, I should think," Harriet declared.
"Then I'll be taking my kiss," he said, moving quickly toward her. Issie let out a loud cry. Harriet cried out, too, just as a second man came up behind the dirty drunk, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. This new man was drastically different in appearance. Harriet could see right away that he was a proper man. His suit was black with a narrow lapel and clean white shirt. His trousers were free of wrinkles and grime.
"Abel Kent, what are you doing here?" her hero said, his voice irritated. "I thought you'd left Helena for good."
"I'm seeking revenge on them Indians that killed my partner." He spat on the ground.
"Paul was just lucky I didn't get ahold of him first. Get out of here now, before I run you in. I'm sure Sheriff Hardy can make some room for you in his cells."
"I did my time for that stint to your coach. You can't hold me on nothin'!"
"If I'd have been able to prove it was you involved with those other stagecoach robberies, you would still be rotting in jail. Your freedom is one of my biggest regrets."
Abel laughed and spat directly at her hero this time. He moved aside, narrowly missing the saliva. He pushed Abel away and the vagrant scurried off like the rat he was.
"Thank you," Harriet said, taking in her hero's appearance. She had been struck at first by his style of dress but that was only because she had failed to see the full of his face. Now that she looked upon him, her heart stammered. A strange vibration ran up and down her spine as he took her hand, bowing gently to her.
"Thank you," she repeated and found that her throat was dry. She had never seen a more intoxicating man. He was thirty years old and his face was clean shaven. His eyes were of the purest blue. They matched the sky above them. His hair was dark brown, the color of freshly baked bread that had been left in the oven a smidge too long. As he let her hand go, she could have sworn she smelled wildflowers and cinnamon.
"It was my pleasure, ma'am," he said, his voice deep and throaty. He tipped his hat to her, and she felt the blush rise on her cheeks.
"Who was that man?"
"A scoundrel. An outlaw by the name of Abel Kent. Robbed a stagecoach several months back. I happened to be in it at the time."
Harriet's eyes widened. "Yet he roams free?" she said, aghast.
"Unfortunately, the judge who presided over the case chose to be lenient on him. For what reasons, I can only imagine. He served his time and was released less than a fortnight ago. I thought he'd cleared out from here but I can see now that's not the case."
"How dreadful," Harriet said.
"If you don't my saying, you look a bit lost. May I help you find whoever you are looking for?"
She nodded gratefully. "I'm looking for a man."
He smiled politely at her. "That is a start. There are many men here already. Would you like me to pick one out for you?"
Harriet flushed at the quick wit on him. Carrie had similar wit but Harriet had never been able to keep up with it.
"No," she laughed. "I'm sorry. I meant that I was looking for a particular man. Though if you could find me one with chocolate, I might trade in the one I'm after."
She blushed still more ferociously, astounded that she'd dared to attempt such humor with a man she did not know. Issie had gone back to sleep, nestled against her shoulder.
"You have a sweet tooth then?" the man asked, grinning.
"Only for chocolate. It's a favorite of mine, and I so rarely get it."
"Well, perhaps we can find some for you as we search for your husband."
"Oh, no!" Harriet cried, louder than she'd meant to. "I am not married."
The man looked at Issie in her arms with raised eyebrows.
"What I mean to say is that I was married. I am widowed now." She did not include the information that she was at the station to meet her fiancé. She was enjoying speaking with this man far too much, much more than she was sure she should have.
"I see," the man said, something in his eyes spoke of understanding. "I am sorry for the loss."
"It was some time ago, now," she said. "Just after this little one was born."
He cleared his throat. "Who is it you're looking for?"
She hated to tell him but she had not yet seen the judge and would need help finding his home if he were not here to meet her. "Judge Theodore Foster."
His eyes widened in momentary surprise.
"You seek Judge Foster?"
"Yes, do you know him?"
"Indeed, I do. May I inquire why you wish to see him?"
She blushed. "I am... we are to be married." She cast her eyes away momentarily. When they returned to him, he looked angry.
"You are Harriet Ackerman?" he cried.
"Yes," she said, confused. "How do you know me?"
"I am Judge Theodore Foster," he said, looking her up and down. "Oh, no. This will not do. This will not do at all. I cannot marry you. A huge error has been made."
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