by Jodi Thomas
“I never loaded the gun.” She suddenly didn’t want him to leave her side.
“I know,” he answered, letting Hannah know that his word had kept him away, not the fear she’d tried to instill. “I checked it last night.”
They moved toward the steps and another couple made more talk impossible. Hannah hurried back into the coatroom without a word. For a long moment she stood alone, thinking of what might happen when they got home. If Uncle Zachery would find another place to sleep, they could stay in their separate rooms and just kiss good night, but Uncle Zachery seemed to have taken root faster than a mesquite tree on a damp prairie. He had even started his own collection of books about horses in one corner of the main room.
She told herself all she wanted was to kiss Ford, for any more might be as ugly as it had been that night with Jude. Though Jude had held her tight, his hands hadn’t caressed as Ford’s had—they’d pulled and twisted until she’d cried in pain. Then he’d slapped her hard and demanded she be quiet while he felt what he’d own tomorrow. When she’d tried to pull away, he’d jerked a fistful of her hair loose by the roots and pulled her to the dirt, swearing that she’d learn soon enough how a wife should act.
Hannah suddenly ran from the coatroom, not wanting to think of what her life had been like then, or might have been today if Jude hadn’t been killed.
Three feet into the main room, Hannah realized everyone was looking at Allison, who stood at the front yelling and crying with echoed shrillness.
Hannah slowly moved toward the crowd, trying to understand what was happening.
“I just got it a week ago! Ordered it all the way from Kansas City,” Allison said between crying fits. “The bag can be replaced, but it had the church’s building fund in it—forty dollars!”
Someone tried to comfort Allison, but she only cried louder. “It’s all my fault. I should have given it to the reverend when I first arrived. But I thought my reticule would be safe in the coatroom.”
Hannah looked around. She probably should, but she didn’t care that the money was missing. All that mattered was that Ford didn’t think she’d taken it. She couldn’t bear to see his accusing stare again.
But Ford was nowhere in sight.
Everyone seemed to be talking at once. Several people organized a search of the coatroom, while others agreed to take lanterns and walk the route from Allison’s house to the church in case the bag had dropped from her wrist without her noticing. Most folks seemed content to try and comfort Allison and convince her the loss couldn’t be her fault. Mrs. Scott even started playing softly on the piano once more, only now her songs were funeral beat.
Hannah paced the floor, not knowing what to do. If anyone in the room knew her past, they’d blame her without even allowing her to defend herself. She should be a suspect simply because she was an outsider, but no one even looked in her direction. Somehow being Ford’s wife made her above suspicion. But where was Ford? Didn’t anyone notice he was missing? He’d been a step behind her when she’d entered the coatroom, but left her at the door because he didn’t have a coat to put up.
Minutes ticked by to the melody of Allison’s sobs. The more attention she received, the more hysterical she became.
“I found the money!” Widow Rogers yelled from the coatroom. “Someone stuffed it in the cane holder! The thief must have just wanted your bag, Miss Allison.”
Everyone but Hannah and Allison rushed to see the widow count out the four ten-dollar bills.
Hannah stood close enough to Allison to hear her mumble that the money hadn’t been in tens, but no one seemed to be listening. They were all shouting praises and jumping around like forty-niners on a good day.
Looking around, Hannah finally spotted Ford, standing over by the door with his hands folded across his chest. She was too far away to see his eyes, but he was the only one in the room not smiling.
She moved toward him, thankful that the money had been found and now she could go home in peace. But when she saw his face, all the blood seemed to leave her body at once.
His stormy gray eyes were accusing her, blaming her for a crime that had already been solved.
The walls closed in around Hannah, and she knew as she’d known as long as she could remember that she’d always be an outsider, with nothing but the darkness to surround her and no man to love her. All her life, like her mother, she’d be nobody’s woman, for no one would care for her and believe her…even when there was no reason not to.
Chapter 12
FORD DIDN’T BOTHER with the lantern. As he walked the distance between the barn and the house, his mood was as black as the inky sky. He hardly noticed the sweet smell of burning piñon wood drifting from the house chimney, or the wind whispering through the canyon in one low, moaning hum.
All he could think about was that Hannah had stolen again, even after he’d asked her not to while she was in Saints Roost. She’d taken too much time in the coatroom before they’d left for Eagle Hill. He should have guessed what she was doing, but he was too nervous about going to the hill with her.
Stopping at the edge of the corral, he stared into the night, wishing he could make sense of the way he felt. Idly, he ripped away a scrap of bark along the fence, baring wood as he bared his thoughts. He’d known she was a thief from the beginning, so maybe he should stop acting like a wounded pup. She was just doing tonight what she did every time she needed money, for no telling how many years. Allison’s purse was simply too good to pass up.
The moment Ford heard about the loss, he knew who had taken the money. She’d said earlier that she was going to pay him back for what he’d spent on her new clothes. She probably thought she’d let the theft cool for a few days, then hand him part of the money.
When everyone at the social started looking for the church fund, Ford knew what he had to do. He couldn’t stand by until someone figured out that his wife was mostly likely the only one who’d spent several minutes in the coatroom alone. No one would want to, of course, but eventually someone would get around to asking one question too many.
He couldn’t let Hannah be caught. Ford told himself it would be too embarrassing for her, but honesty gnawed at his gut. A part of him had to tell the truth, if only to himself. Pride wouldn’t let them find out about Hannah’s past. Not her pride, but his own. He didn’t want people saying that now it made sense why a pretty woman would marry such a toad of a man. She had a shady past. If they caught her stealing, it wouldn’t be sunrise before everyone in town would also speculate on what else she’d done. They’d say things like, Of course, no decent man would have her, so she married Ford, or A woman like her is lucky to find even one man who’ll stay with her for more than a night.
The cold air froze the moisture around his eyes. He didn’t want to be thought of as the leftover man who’d marry her. Ford, at least, wanted the fantasy of believing that she could care for someone like him. He liked remembering how she’d suggested the idea that they go through with the marriage. He liked having people think he was lucky for finding her and that maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than they’d ever seen. After all, a woman like Hannah was willing to stand in public with her hand on his arm.
Someone like him. He wanted to scream the words until he was so hoarse he couldn’t say them anymore. All his life he’d heard them whispered, as if everyone was simply enduring his presence.
But Hannah had changed that. Folks looked at him differently tonight. They stayed more than the minimum time to say another sentence or two. Having Hannah at his side had pulled him from the corner. He still couldn’t think of much to say, but no one seemed to notice with her standing so close to him, with her hand tucked into the curve of his elbow as though she were proud to be there.
So for purely selfish reasons, Ford did the only thing he could think of to do. He ran the quarter of a mile to his sister’s house and took forty dollars from money he’d been saving to increase the herd come spring. He was back at the church before any
one noticed he was gone. They hadn’t even really organized a search when Widow Rogers found the money he’d stuffed almost out of sight.
“Ford!” Uncle Zachery bellowed from the doorway. “Are you out here in this blackness? I swear, that blasted wind must have blown away even the stars tonight. This country ain’t fit for nothing but coyotes, and even they feel the need to complain now and again.”
For a moment Ford thought about dropping Uncle Zachery in the water tank beneath the windmill to see if the old man could swim. A second later he felt guilty about daydreaming of such a thing. After all, the old fellow was Hannah’s uncle. He was probably just lonely. When he’d first come out to the ranch, Ford thought it would be for a night, maybe two, but the uncle seemed to be settling in for the remainder of the winter. He’d discovered a long-buried interest in horses and followed Ford around, checking on each animal and advising on each one’s care.
“I’m out here!” Ford yelled back. “Just enjoying a few minutes of solitude.”
Zachery moved toward him, feeling his way with the points of his boots. “I know what you mean, son. Jinx about talked me out of a listening mood tonight. That woman can come up with a topper story to every one I can think of. I have an idea she does it to keep me off guard when we’re playing checkers. I had to wiggle my ears several times just to keep up the rhythm of the conversation.”
Ford was glad it was dark and Zachery couldn’t see his expression. The thought that maybe he should haul Zachery up the windmill to drop him deeper into the water tank crossed his mind. But he had a feeling even underwater Zachery would still be talking. It was just a guess, but Ford figured Jinx had had to fight for every minute of time to say a few words.
“Hannah told me what happened at the social. It was a lucky thing, finding that money Allison misplaced. She’s mighty pretty, son, that Allison Donley. Jinx said you were a little sweet on her once, but I’m glad you didn’t get no closer to the honey. A woman who’d just leave forty dollars laying around isn’t the kind you’d want to be having your offspring, if you know what I mean. That kind of senselessness might be passed down from mother’s milk to child.”
Ford had no idea what the old man was talking about. He was only half listening to Zachery. He’d developed the habit within hours of meeting the man.
“Now you take my dear niece, Hannah.” Uncle Zachery was moving from side to side as he talked, trying to make sure he was addressing Ford directly, but the blackness made it impossible for him to be sure. “Hannah would never lose money, and she’s kind, too.” He cleared his throat, forcing his voice to remain steady. “I’ll bet my dear Hannah would even give food to a hungry man who had no money. And she can cook, too. A man can smile at about any wife at bedtime if his belly is full of good food. Not that she ain’t ever’ bit as pretty as that Allison, only in a little quieter way.”
Ford didn’t answer. He could almost see Hannah feeding hungry folks. But her kindness didn’t change the fact that she’d also steal any money lying around or hold a man at gunpoint and take his clothes.
“She’s good with the children, too. Everyone tells me so every time I ride to town. She stops almost every day and visits with parents, just to let them know how their little ones are doing. I heard someone say she’s a natural-born teacher. Imagine that, Hannah a natural-born teacher, when all I ever thought was that she was a good cook.”
“She is that.” Ford finally gave Zachery the satisfaction of agreeing with him. In the past week he’d found himself racing the sun every evening to get home for dinner.
“She deserves a good man like you, son,” Uncle Zachery said. His eyes had finally adjusted enough to the light that he could see Ford’s outline, so he moved closer.
“How do you know I’m a good man?” Ford asked.
“’Cause Hannah told me you were,” Uncle Zachery said simply. “And I ain’t never seen you say an unkind word to her, or hit her even once since I’ve been here.”
Ford suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Either this old man knew nothing of what was going on, or Zachery really believed that Hannah was all she claimed to be and he was as good a husband as she told everyone. “I need to check the horses. You’d best get back in the house. This time of night it turns cold.”
Zachery didn’t argue. His stiff, slow movements told Ford just how tired the old man was. He seemed old in life more than in years, as though he’d aged twice for every day he’d lived. If Zachery had known Hannah long, he surely must know the truth about her. Maybe Uncle Zachery just wanted to believe in the picture Ford and Hannah had so carefully constructed. Maybe he’d seen so much bad he thought he deserved a turn at looking at only the good in people.
Ford crossed back to the barn, knowing he had nothing further to check—he’d already done his evening chores twice. If he kept this up, the horses would be too fat to get saddles on, come morning. But he didn’t want to face Hannah just yet.
He straightened the leathering tools as he tried to place his thoughts in order. Considering what he knew about her, how could he still want to touch her? Nothing made sense anymore. She was everything he’d worked all his life not to be. Finally, when he’d started to be accepted by folks, she had to come into his life. Was he willing to risk what little ground he’d gained because of her? Did the ground matter all that much in the first place?
Ford slammed his hand against the rough wall of the barn. “No,” he whispered between clenched teeth. He was willing to risk it all. Questioning his motives all night wouldn’t change a thing. He’d put the money back because he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her accused. Part of him might be thinking of himself, but he’d done what he did for her.
Staring up at the starless sky, Ford whispered, “And she wouldn’t even quit stealing for a month for me.”
When he finally walked into the house, he knew what he must do. She couldn’t change just because he wanted her to, and he couldn’t stand seeing her practice her trade on people he’d known most of his life. He had to leave.
Ford spread the bedroll out on the long table in the main room and stuffed two books into the bottom of the roll. He grabbed a few basic supplies and added them to the stash.
Hannah was within a few feet of him before he realized she was even in the room. “Mind my asking what you’re doing?”
He looked up at her and immediately regretted his glance. She looked so beautiful, dressed for bed in his nightshirt and robe. Gripping his shaving case in both hands, he fought the urge to hold her. How could he still have so strong a need to touch her that his arms felt like they would act on their own if he didn’t cooperate?
He stuffed a change of clothes into the bedroll and began rolling it tightly. “I need to ride out to the line shack at the other end of my ranch. Ray says he thinks there might be some fence down, and I need to have it up by spring.”
“You’re putting up the fence tonight?”
“No.” Ford knew his story was flimsy, but he had to get away from her before he accidentally burned every standard he had on the fire she’d started in his gut. “I’ll ride over tonight so I can get an early start in the morning. I know the way so well I could make it in my sleep. If I can put in a few full days by not having to come back here, I should be finished before the end of the week.”
“You’re leaving me here alone.” Hannah tried not to make her voice sound disappointed. He had a ranch to run and more important things to think about than her.
“You can keep your uncle.”
“Thanks.” Hannah’s sarcasm made them both smile. “That’s another reason you’re leaving tonight,” she guessed. “You don’t want him going with you.”
“That’s about it,” Ford lied. He hadn’t even given Zachery a thought. The line shack was rough living, and the old man wouldn’t be up to it even if he could ride. The place was little more than a lean-to built with its back to the north wind, but it was better than sleeping out in the open this time of year.
Hannah
followed him to the kitchen and watched him pack more supplies. She thought of asking what was bothering him, but she figured he’d tell her if he wanted her to know. She’d tried to guess the answers ever since the end of the social. He’d changed suddenly when they’d all been watching Allison cry. Minutes before, he’d kissed her like she’d never known a man could kiss a woman, then later he’d looked at her as if he’d found her guilty of some horrible crime and was heartlessly waiting for the firing squad to arrive.
As she trailed behind him toward the barn, Hannah decided that what must be responsible for his sudden mood swing was seeing Allison cry. Most likely, he didn’t care about the money she’d lost, he’d only been angry that someone had made her so upset.
While she watched him saddle a horse, Hannah’s nagging question bubbled out before her common sense had time to act to keep her mouth closed. “You love her very much, don’t you?”
“Who?” Ford snapped in a harsher tone than he’d intended. Hannah was driving him mad, following him, watching every move he made. He could almost feel the warmth of her only inches away, and the sweet way she always smelled after her bath was thick in the air around him.
“Allison. You love her, don’t you?”
“Why do you say that?” He forced himself not to look at Hannah as he asked. Ford had never thought very much about loving any woman. He’d thought about being married and raising kids, but love was something for the romantic poets, not a struggling rancher. Besides, he couldn’t love Allison, not the way Hannah seemed to think. She was like a beautiful painting a man could admire, but never love.
“I know you love her because it upset you so much to see her crying.” Hannah’s fists were on her hips and she looked at him as though he were the oldest problem child she taught in her one-room school.
“I was upset about the reason for her hysteria.” Ford picked his words carefully. “It bothers me that someone would steal the money from a church.”
