A Mail Order Bride for Thanksgiving (Love by Mail #5)(6)

Betty’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”

“And this is my other uncle, Mankato.” A man with a shaved head nodded grimly at Betty, his mouth pinched closed, and his eyebrows pulled down. Betty gulped.

“And I’m Kohana’s sister, Kimimela,” the younger woman said, “but you can call me Kimberly.” She pulled the goat behind her and handed the rope to John.

“Kimimela,” the bald uncle said. “Do not shame your ancestors! That name is not yours.”

“Mankato,” Uncle Wapasha muttered. He frowned at the younger girl, but then his eyes wandered along the decorations in the garden. “Beautiful ceremony, Takoda.”

“‘Takoda’?” Betty asked.

“It was my former name,” John said, a faint smile on his face.

“It is still your name,” Uncle Wapasha said, placing a hand on his chest. “To us, you are still Takoda, a friend to everyone.”

His wife, whose brown face bore only a few lines, took John’s hands. “Your parents would be so proud of you. I feel that this union is blessed.”

“Soon you’ll have lots of children,” Kimimela said, wiggling her brows.

Betty blushed. “Oh, I… We…”

“For the Lakota, children are a blessing, the most precious gift on earth.” Wapasha squeezed John’s shoulder. “We must go back now, Takoda. It was good to see you.”

They hugged one last time, and even Betty was swallowed by Kimimela and Wichapi’s arms. They left them with the basket, the chickens, and the goat.

“Well, that – that was very lovely of your family to come,” Betty said, trying to keep the chickens from flying from her grasp. She didn’t often deal with live fowl. “So… Kimimela wants to be Kimberly. Is she going to be baptized any time soon?”

John shook his head. “She is young and is influenced by many things, but her parents are pure-blooded Sioux. Although my father had many Indian friends, he had struggled as a half-breed among his people.”

“It’ll be all right,” Betty said, unsure if she was saying it for John’s benefit or for hers. “Everyone in Angel Creek is accepting and kind.”

John opened his mouth to speak, then promptly closed it. He smiled weakly at her. “You’re right. It will be fine.” He looked down as the goat grabbed hold of his pants with its teeth and started chewing. “Well, perhaps it will be fine tomorrow.”

Betty giggled as John shook the goat off and dragged it to a tree.

*

Fernville, Montana Territory, November 1872



The horse stopped and Betty sighed in relief. At least the covered wagon hadn’t rocked like the carriage on her first day in Angel Creek. The old mare was tame, and seemed to like John very much.

“We’re here,” John called from the front. He gave the driver his payment and jumped down.

“Finally,” Betty said, climbing off with her bag in hand. “I could use some rest.”

“It wasn’t very far.” John grinned.

“But it was very hot,” she retorted.

A few hours’ ride to their new home had initially excited Betty, but when they reached the town, she frowned. Brown, dull, the small settlement seemed underwhelming. For some reason she expected something more vibrant, more cheerful. Somehow she thought the town would resemble John and his gentle charm. At least Angel Creek had seemed alive, with many friendly people smiling and waving. Here, everyone gave their wagon a wide berth.

“What a welcome party,” she muttered.

John chuckled and brought down several of their things. “C’mon, I’ll show you the house.”

She’d rather they had stayed in Angel Creek, but John had already a house set for them, handed down from his grandparents. She didn’t want to disrespect that. Plus, he seemed excited to show her Fernville. Maybe she was just tired after the journey. She reminded herself how first impressions can be misleading…

Together, they walked a few steps through town. Betty was glad they didn’t have a lot of things, except for the goat that kept bleating. Was that why the people were throwing angry looks at them?

“They must think we’re being too noisy.” Betty tugged the goat’s leash. “Shh! They’re gonna start throwing rotten tomatoes at us.” She chuckled at her husband, but he didn’t smile. “What’s wrong?”

John shook his head. “Nothing.”

A group of children passed by and started pointing at them. They laughed into their fists and pushed each other. John turned to her, “C’mon let’s go so we can rest.”

But the minute they arrived in front of the two-storey house, Betty gasped. John dropped his things and ran up the porch. He pressed a hand against the crimson-stained wooden walls and took a deep breath.

“Oh my, Lord have mercy.” Betty dashed to her husband’s side. “What happened here?” She whirled around to find some neighbors looking at them, brows and lips pulled down. “Did anybody see what happened here? Who did this?”

John grabbed her shoulder with his other hand and muttered, “It’s all right, Betty, let’s just get the things inside. I’ll take care of this.”

He went back to get their things and one man with a bad leg said, “You shouldn’t have come back, ya Injun.”