Chapter Three
The train lurched forward with a groan of iron and steam, and Ruth’s heart jerked with it.
She sat rigidly on the hard wooden seat, her carpet bag resting on her lap and both hands clasped tightly around its worn handle.
Through the window, the familiar platform of Devil’s Hollow began to slide away.
The station lamps glowed softly in the darkness, casting pools of yellow light onto the dusty ground.
A few late travelers lingered beneath the awning, their figures shrinking as the train gathered speed.
Ruth pressed herself closer to the window as the church steeple, the general store, the dusty streets she had walked all her life gradually faded into the night.
Before long, there was nothing left but darkness and the occasional flicker of lantern light from distant farmhouses.
Only then did the reality of what she had done settle over her.
She had left. A cold knot tightened in her stomach.
Up until this moment, escape was the only thing that had occupied all her thoughts.
She had been so focused on leaving Gideon Walker behind that she had scarcely considered what came afterward.
But now there was nothing to distract her from that question. What came afterward?
She had less than two dollars to her name.
No family waiting elsewhere. No friends beyond the borders of Devil’s Hollow.
No destination beyond the one printed on the train ticket she had purchased in desperation.
It had been the first train leaving town and she had not dared to wait.
Now, for the first time since climbing through her bedroom window, fear began to outweigh relief.
The train rattled steadily over the tracks, its wheels creating a rhythmic clatter beneath the floorboards.
Coal smoke drifted through the open ventilation windows, mingling with the scent of worn leather, dust, and lamp oil.
A baby fussed somewhere toward the rear of the carriage.
An elderly couple shared a basket of food several rows ahead, speaking quietly to one another.
Across the aisle, a traveling salesman had already fallen asleep, his hat tipped low over his face.
Ruth lowered her gaze and slipped her fingers beneath her collar, finding the small silver cross resting against her skin. The metal had warmed from her body heat during the journey. Closing her fingers around it, closing her eyes, she silently prayed. “Lord, guide my steps.”
She knew she had to believe God would provide for her.
He would make sure she found somewhere to go.
Despite her faith, exhaustion, fear, and uncertainty had worn Ruth’s defenses thin and before she could stop herself, a tear slipped down her cheek.
Embarrassed, she turned toward the window and quickly brushed it away.
Unfortunately, the movement caught the attention of the young woman seated across from her.
The woman had boarded shortly before departure and appeared to be around Ruth’s age.
She was attractive in a bright, cheerful way, with blonde hair tucked neatly beneath a fashionable traveling hat adorned with blue silk flowers.
Her dress was modest but well made, and there was an easy confidence about her that suggested she was accustomed to speaking with strangers.
For a moment, the woman seemed uncertain whether to intrude. Then, concern clearly won out. “Are you quite all right?” she asked gently.
Ruth attempted a smile as the woman reached into her reticule and withdrew a handkerchief.
“I’ll take the tears as a sign that you are not.”
Despite everything, a small chuckle escaped Ruth and the sound surprised her. It had been a long time since she’d felt like laughing. “Thank you,” she said, accepting the handkerchief.
The woman smiled. “My name is Nora Smith.”
There was something reassuring about her manner. Perhaps it was the kindness in her eyes or the fact that she didn’t seem inclined to pry. Whatever the reason, Ruth relaxed a bit. “I’m Ruth Turner,” she said, feeling a little more confident.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ruth.”
For a few moments, they sat together in companionable silence while the train continued westward through the darkness. Eventually, Nora glanced at her.
“You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not,” she said carefully, “but are you in some kind of trouble?”
The simple question struck closer to the truth than Ruth was prepared for. She stared down at the handkerchief in her lap. Then, to her horror, tears began gathering once more.
For a moment, she tried to compose herself. She had spent most of her life keeping her feelings hidden. Tears had rarely solved anything in the Turner household.
Yet, tonight was different. Tonight, she had left behind the only home she had ever known and she had no idea what tomorrow would bring.
And now, for the first time in years, someone had asked if she was all right and seemed to genuinely care about the answer.
So, before Ruth could stop herself, the entire story began to spill out.
At first, she spoke cautiously, embarrassed to reveal so much to a stranger.
But Nora listened with such quiet attentiveness that the words came easier than Ruth expected.
She told her about her mother dying when she was born and about her father’s bitterness, which had evolved into drinking and gambling, habits that had steadily consumed their lives.
She explained how the farm had started falling apart piece by piece as debts mounted.
Nora’s expression grew increasingly troubled as the story unfolded. When Ruth finally described Gideon Walker’s visit, the blonde woman’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“He demanded to marry you as payment for a debt?”
Ruth nodded. “He said he would forgive everything my father owed.”
“And your father agreed?”
The hurt of that moment still felt fresh. “He agreed before I could even speak.”
Nora sat back against her seat and for a moment she simply stared out the window at the darkness rushing past. “That’s monstrous.”
Ruth looked down at her hands. “I don’t think my father saw it that way,” she said. “He tried to justify it. To make it seem as if I were to have a better life. Someone to take care of me.”
“Still,” Nora said quietly as she placed her hand over Ruth’s. “You are not something to be traded or thrown away.”
They fell into silence again for a moment as the train rattled steadily onward. Outside, moonlight silvered the open prairie. Just then, they passed by an isolated farmhouse, its lantern-lit windows glowing warmly in the darkness before disappearing behind them.
Ruth envied those homes and the families inside. She imagined a father and mother sitting down to dinner with their children. A roast on the table, the fire crackling in its grate. She thought of them sharing their day with each other, of laughing and telling jokes.
“How did you get away?” Nora asked.
Ruth turned back to her. “I climbed out my bedroom window.”
The answer surprised a laugh from her companion. “Well.” Nora shook her head in admiration. “You’re braver than you look.”
“I doubt that,” Ruth said. Because although she had left, although she’d chosen to forge her own path, she didn’t feel brave. Instead, she was staring into her future and seeing nothing.
Nora sighed. “This world is not always kind to women.”
“No,” Ruth agreed.
“And I suppose we’re both running away from something,” Nora said sadly.
Ruth turned toward her. “What do you mean?”
Nora hesitated. “My situation isn’t nearly as terrible as yours,” she said, smiling ruefully. “But I’m not exactly traveling toward the future I imagined, either.” Ruth waited as Nora smoothed her skirt.
“My destination is Weatherford.”
The town name meant nothing to Ruth.
“I’ve been corresponding with a gentleman there,” Nora explained, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Well, technically, I’ve been corresponding with his cousin.”
Ruth frowned.
“The man in Weatherford is named Henry Foster,” she continued. “He is an unmarried rancher whose cousin has apparently taken it upon himself to find him a wife.”
“And that’s where you’re going?” Ruth asked. “To Weatherford, to marry this man?”
“Yes,” Nora said. “Letters have been exchanged and the arrangements made.”
“But you’ve never met him?” Ruth asked, her voice rising.
“Not once.”
Ruth stared at her in astonishment, although the idea wasn’t entirely unfamiliar.
Over the past few years, stories of mail-order marriages had become increasingly common throughout the state.
Even in a small place like Devil’s Hollow, people occasionally spoke of women traveling all over America to marry men they knew only through letters. The war had changed so much.
Too many men had never returned home from the fighting.
Entire communities had been left with widows, orphaned children, and farms struggling to survive.
At the same time, settlers continued pushing westward, establishing ranches and towns in places where women were still scarce.
A great many men found themselves with land and livelihoods but no families to share them with.
Some sought wives through advertisements placed in newspapers, while others relied on churches, relatives, or matchmaking services to arrange introductions through letters. Most people considered it practical. Necessary, even. Still, Ruth had always found the notion unsettling.
Marriage was meant to be one of life’s most sacred commitments.
The thought of promising herself to a man she had never met, whose voice she had never heard, seemed impossible to imagine.
Then again, she reflected with grim irony, she had very nearly been forced to marry a man she knew all too well.
At least Nora’s stranger remained an unknown.
Gideon Walker’s character required no guessing.
She studied the young woman beside her. “What if he isn’t what you expect?”
Nora gave a helpless shrug. “I suppose it won’t matter once we’re married.”
The uncertainty in her voice made Ruth pause. “You don’t want to?”
Nora looked toward the window again where the moonlight reflected faintly in the glass.
“When I was younger, I used to dream about San Francisco,” she said, a hint of longing in her voice.
“I used to read newspaper articles about it. The stores, the harbor, the opportunities. All those people building new lives.” She laughed quietly. “It seemed impossibly exciting.”
“What happened?”
Nora gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “Nothing happened,” she admitted. “I stayed where I was. Every year, I told myself, perhaps next year.” She shook her head. “Then one year became another.”
Ruth understood that feeling. Nora looked out the train window for a moment before continuing.
“When I was younger, everyone assumed I would marry eventually. Most girls did.” Her smile faded slightly.
“Then my father died, and my mother needed help. There was always something more important than my own plans. Bills to pay. Work to do. Someone to look after.”
She twisted her gloves in her lap. “After a while, people stopped asking when I might marry and started looking at me with pity instead.”
Ruth frowned. “That’s unfair.”
“Perhaps. But it happens all the same.” Nora gave a small shrug.
“A woman alone has few choices. Especially one without money. Once you’re considered too old to be a girl and not fortunate enough to be a wife, people begin treating you as though you’ve somehow missed your proper place in the world. ”
The sadness in her voice touched Ruth’s heart.
“My mother would never have said it aloud, but I knew she worried. Another mouth to feed. Another future to secure. She wasn’t unkind about it.
Only practical.” Nora looked down at her hands.
“So when the opportunity to become a mail-order bride appeared, it seemed practical. Safe. I convinced myself it was the sensible choice.”
Her expression softened into something thoughtful. “But the closer I get to Weatherford, the more I find myself wondering whether I’m making a terrible mistake.”
The train rounded a bend and the carriage swayed gently. Nora glanced sideways at Ruth. There was a curious expression on Nora’s face, as though she were considering something, testing it in her mind.
“What?” Ruth asked.
Nora didn’t answer right away. Instead, she studied Ruth for several moments. The attention made Ruth uncomfortable.
Finally, she leaned closer. “This may sound completely foolish.” Ruth raised an eyebrow and Nora laughed. “Yes, it probably is crazy.” Then she lowered her voice. “What if we helped each other?”
Ruth frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Nora’s gaze sharpened. “You need somewhere to go,” she said. “And I need the courage to pursue the life I’ve always wanted.”
Ruth still wasn’t following as Nora drew a slow breath. “What if you went to Weatherford instead of me?”
For a moment, Ruth simply stared as the train continued rattling along the tracks and a conductor passed through the carriage carrying a lantern. Somewhere toward the rear, a baby cried. The ordinary sounds of travel continued around them. Yet the world seemed to have abruptly tilted.
“What?”
Nora sat up straighter. “The man waiting for me has never seen me.”
Ruth blinked.
“They know my name and my letters, but they don’t know my face.”
A cold sensation swept through Ruth. “Nora...”
The other woman reached into her bag and produced a photograph. It was a studio portrait, the kind taken by traveling photographers.
The image showed Nora seated in a formal pose.
“They’ll know,” Ruth insisted.
Nora shook her head. “No,” she said, tapping the photograph. “I never sent this.”
Ruth stared at the photograph and her conscience immediately rebelled. It was deception, a lie.
And yet, another thought followed close behind: she had nowhere else to go. No money or protection. No future she could clearly see. Weatherford offered at least the possibility of safety and a roof over her head. Time to figure out what came next.
The train thundered onward through the darkness as Ruth’s fingers found the silver cross resting beneath her collar. She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, Nora was still watching her.
Neither woman spoke as Ruth looked out the window, where the landscape beyond the glass was dark and unknown. A future she couldn’t see, much like the road ahead.
When she turned back to Nora, her heart was pounding. “Tell me about Weatherford.”
And as Nora began to smile, Ruth suspected her life was just about to change forever.