by Jodi Thomas
Hannah didn’t say anything else and Ford directed the rest of his conversation to the children. Once they were home, it took both of them to get all five fed, bathed, and bedded down in the living room by the fire.
Ford carried the empty hot cocoa cups into the kitchen and set them down beside the sink where Hannah was standing. “I thought I’d sleep in Zachery’s room tonight.”
She’d felt the tension all evening. He was distant, formal, almost a stranger. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he answered for the third time since they’d been home.
Only now they were alone, and she wasn’t going to let it pass as she had earlier. “Soemthing is. You’ve been acting like a different man than the one who dropped me off this morning.”
“Not different,” he whispered, “only wiser.”
“Don’t you want to kiss me anymore?” Hannah bit her lip. That wasn’t the question she’d wanted to ask, even though it had been on her mind all evening.
“Whether I do or don’t doesn’t matter!” he snapped. “The fact is, I’m not going to. The way I figure it, we’ve got two and a half more weeks. It would be best if we stayed as far away from one another as possible until you leave.”
“Until I die, you mean.”
“Until you die,” he repeated. “And until then, stay out of the store or anywhere else but school and here.”
“But why?”
“I don’t have to give you any reasons. So far I’ve let you set all the rules. Well, now I’m setting one of my own. I’m telling you to stay away from everything and everyone but the school and here.”
“And if I refuse?” Hannah couldn’t imagine why he’d make such a request.
“Then I’ll…” Ford gripped the counter and tried to hide his frustration. He’d made up his mind he wouldn’t discuss the theft White had reported this afternoon. A stationary box with paper, ink, and silver-tipped pens had vanished sometime around noon. He’d tried to tell himself that Hannah hadn’t taken it, but who else would? They’d never had a theft in Saints Roost before she came. She’d been in the store; she’d told him so herself. He hated himself for suspecting her and hated her even more for not being what he wished she were.
“You’ll what?” Hannah faced him squarely. “You’ll hit me?”
Her challenge shook him from his thought. “No.” He forced his voice to stay low so as not to wake the children. “How many times do I have to tell you I’ll never hurt you?”
“You say that, but your mood changes for no reason.”
“I don’t have to explain.” He knew he couldn’t tell her what he suspected without hurting her more than with his silence.
“Your sister told me you might turn wild,” Hannah snapped. “But she was wrong. You only turn cold.”
“Maybe you’d better be thankful I don’t turn wild. Maybe there is something in me not quite civilized after all. Maybe you shouldn’t push me too far, Hannah.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Take it any way you like, but stay away from everything but the school and this house.” Here she could take anything she wanted and he wouldn’t care.
“And if I refuse?” She had to push him. She had to know the limits of this man. If he was the kind to beat her, Hannah wanted to know now so she could draw her battle lines and prepare a defense.
Standing directly in front of him, she leaned closer, putting herself in harm’s way. She’d cowered before, when Jude had first hurt her, and something had snapped inside her. She’d not back away again. Her fear had given Jude power, and the blows had only grown harder the second time.
Ford bumped her with his shoulder as he turned his back to her. “Just stay away from the folks of Saints Roost and from me.” His voice was bitter.
Hannah raised her hand to touch his shoulder and demand to know why he’d changed so suddenly, but he was gone. He almost ran from the kitchen.
He didn’t stop running until he reached the safety of the loft. He walked to the opening and grabbed the beam above his head. Leaning out into the night, he took a deep breath and tried to force his body to unknot.
He had to stay away from her. She was everything he’d fought all his life not to be. Her eyes made his very insides melt, yet she pushed him to the limit, both with a longing to hold her and with her thefts.
Maybe the rumors about him were true. For the thoughts he had of what he’d like to do with Hannah were wild and untamed.
If it were a time before civilization and rules, he’d run back into the house and sweep her into his arms. With her heart pounding against his, he’d run to the caves where the ground was soft and the world was silent. He’d kiss her fully as his hands tore her clothes away and his body pressed hers into the earth. He’d fill his hands with her full breasts and listen only to her soft cries of pleasure.
“Stop it!” Ford yelled. He grabbed his head, trying to force the thoughts of her beneath him from his mind. This wasn’t the time before civilization and he wasn’t some caveman who took a mate violently. Regular folks don’t have such thoughts, he reminded himself.
“Normal!” He laughed. “Civilized!” He only had to make it two and a half more weeks, then maybe the wild streak within him would die away and he could bury it along with his make-believe wife in a coffin lined with a wedding quilt…and stolen dreams.
Chapter 17
HANNAH PASSED THROUGH the week in a daze of endless chores. When she wasn’t at school teaching, she was working at the house, trying to keep five children clean and fed. Uncle Zachery was welcomed home as a hero to all the children for helping Mrs. Smith bring another redhead into the world. The Smiths couldn’t bear to name the girl Zachery after him, so they settled on Janie Noble Smith, using his last name as her middle name. He walked a little taller and didn’t seem to feel the need to talk all the time. Of late he much preferred folks talking about him, and was willing to allow them all the time they needed to express what a wonderful job he’d done with the birthing.
When Zachery returned, Ford took up residence in the barn, saying only that all the people bothered him after spending so many years living alone. Hannah knew that wasn’t the reason, but she refused to press him anymore for an answer. He was a man who spoke what was on his mind only when he wanted to.
He sat across from her each night, listening to the children talk, but never said anything directly to her. She found herself feeling lonelier than if there had been no one in the house with her at all.
Saturday arrived and with it a ton of laundry. Hannah enlisted all the children’s help. By midmorning a full assault had been launched against the piles of clothes and bedding. She rolled her dress sleeves to the elbow and held the lye soap in her hand until her fingers cramped. Piece after piece moved through the boiling pot and onto the scrub board. The wind was cold, chapping her hands, while the hot water stung, but this was the first sunny day she could do her chore and Hannah wasn’t going to waste time complaining.
Between loads drying, she baked and watched Ford moving about the yard, mostly working, but sometimes stopping to see if he could lend a hand.
Finally, Ford and Zachery loaded the children, along with all their clean clothing, into the wagon for their journey home. Hannah packed the boot full of food, including a roast with potatoes and three apple pies. She kissed them each good-bye and said she’d see them on Monday. They waved at her until the wagon turned out of sight.
When she went back inside, the house seemed too quiet. She could hear the wind promising a storm and the crackling sound of wood in the stove, sounds she hadn’t noticed with all the children about. Hannah walked around picking up things that had been moved during their stay. All week she’d thought about how much work came with five young ones around, but she also thought about the fun. They’d laughed and teased one another. The older ones had been afraid of Ford, but Sammy seemed to believe his seat was on Ford’s knee. Whenever they were eating or riding in the buggy, he took up that position wi
thout hesitation.
Though Ford hadn’t tried to be overly friendly, he’d constantly helped out. Without a word he’d assumed the job of putting out the beds in the big room every night and making sure there was plenty of wood to last until morning. She also knew he’d tripled his order for milk and eggs. He’d even hung a swing in the old cottonwood a hundred yards up the road.
An hour after the children had gone, Hannah was so absorbed in daydreaming about what having a real family might be like that she didn’t hear Ford returning until he was already at the back door.
When she glanced up, his abrupt appearance frightened her and she let out a half cry as he turned the knob on the kitchen door and entered.
Ford’s face darkened when he saw her expression.
Hannah closed her mouth and tried to smile, but the effort was wasted for he didn’t look at her again. “You startled me,” she said as he turned his back and removed his coat.
“I seem to have that effect on a great many people, according to Gavrila.”
Hannah could see the tightness in his muscles. She didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. Though he’d been nothing but kind to her, the wall he’d built between himself and the rest of the world wouldn’t allow him to accept anyone else’s kindness.
For a few hours, earlier in the week, she’d seen him relaxed and happy. When he’d come back from the line shack he couldn’t seem to get enough of her touch, her kisses. They’d parted that morning with an unspoken promise of what would come the first time they had a few moments alone. But when he’d picked her up from school everything had changed. Hannah had been over the day a hundred times in her mind. She could think of nothing that would turn him against her. She’d taught school; she’d bought pencils; she’d spoken to Gavrila.
He sat down at the table now almost a stranger, nothing like the man she’d held before the Smiths came. Hannah placed a plate in front of him, feeling as she had for years when she’d served food to men who didn’t even bother to look at her. They’d usually treated her as though she were invisible, someone to serve them, nothing more. For years she’d cooked and cleaned without anyone even noticing her, unless a customer needed more food or drink.
Hannah’s pride wouldn’t allow Ford to do the same. He’d at least talk to her while they shared a meal. “Where’s Uncle Zachery?”
Ford stared at her hands as he spoke. “He decided to stay in town for a few hours and have a meal with Jinx. He said not to wait up for him, because he might be in late.”
“Oh.” Hannah didn’t know what else to say. They were alone for the first time in days and she wasn’t sure how to act. Zachery was constantly talking about nothing, but at least he kept the silence from consuming them.
Ford stood, almost knocking the chair over. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He didn’t look at her as he disappeared out the kitchen door. Hannah watched him go, wondering how she’d ever survive another two weeks with his coldness. She knew she should be planning. He’d promised her a train ticket and whatever she wanted to take with her. She wouldn’t be safe here forever. It would be better to think about where to stop next, but Hannah couldn’t seem to get her mind to reason.
When he returned, she was leaning to feed Sneeze a scrap of meat. The cat purred his thanks as Ford set a leather pouch, beaded on the front, on the table and waited for her to stand. When he pulled the strings open, she noticed it was fur-lined and she moved closer in interest.
Ford sat down and turned toward her. “Come here,” he ordered, even though she was only a few feet away from him.
Hannah watched as he opened layers of oilcloth. Moving beside his knee, she leaned close with curiosity.
“Hold out your hands,” he said more gently. “This doesn’t hurt.”
She leaned against the inside of his knee and lifted her hands.
Gently, Ford rubbed the oily lotion into her chapped fingers and palms. “A woman in Tascosa makes this oil from a plant. She swears it will fix anything but a broken heart.”
Hannah was having trouble listening to what he was saying. His fingers were firm and strong as he rubbed the oil into her chapped hands. She moved closer, leaning her leg against the inside of his leg.
Ford stiffened and tried not to notice. He hadn’t thought about how close they’d have to be when he’d gone after the medicine. After the last theft, he’d promised himself he’d stick to their original bargain until she left. The plan was to give her all the extra cash he had, both in town at his office and here in his desk, so that she could live for several weeks while he told everyone she was visiting family. At some point she’d telegram that his wife had been killed in an accident and sign it by another name. He’d board the train in grief and return a few days later with a coffin.
He had it all figured out, even down to what he’d say to everyone at the funeral. What he hadn’t counted on was how hard it would be to stay away from her until she left, or how impossible it was to sleep knowing that she was only a few feet away and more than willing to allow him to sleep beside her.
“I think all the oil is rubbed in,” she whispered as she moved an inch closer.
He could feel the warmth of her, even through both layers of clothes, as she leaned against his leg. She was making it so hard to stick to his plan. All he had to do was move his arm around her waist and with one tug she’d be in his lap. Then he could lean into her, feeling the softness of her against him.
Pulling away suddenly, he toppled his chair backward as he tried to keep from touching her. “I think we’d better eat before the food gets cold,” he mumbled as he picked up the chair and tried to sit as far away from her as possible at the tiny table.
Hannah sat across from him, wondering at the strange feelings she was having. She’d always wanted to touch this man, even from the beginning, and now that he seemed to be pulling away, the need was even stronger.
“Are we going to church tomorrow?”
“Yes,” he answered between bites. “Gavrila has invited us to Sunday dinner, along with a few others. I think she’s planning on giving us the wedding quilt then.”
“You mean the burial quilt,” Hannah teased, but he didn’t smile at her attempt to lighten the mood.
He still wasn’t smiling the next morning as they rode to church. Hannah had no idea where he’d slept, but it hadn’t been in her room. From the dark marks beneath his eyes, he wasn’t sleeping anywhere at all.
She studied him closely. From the looks of him, she was having a bad effect on Ford. If she didn’t leave soon, he’d be a walking dead man. He appeared to have lost weight, and most days he’d seemed to be pushing himself to the limit. This morning, even before sunup, she’d heard him working in the barn.
Uncle Zachery, on the other hand, had never looked better to Hannah, despite the late hours he was keeping. He talked about his evenings with Jinx, but Hannah was as silent as Ford. She had to figure out what was eating away at him before whatever it was drove them both crazy.
Accidentally, she rocked her leg against his when they hit a bump in the road, and she felt his muscles tighten. An idea took hold in her mind. If he was going to build walls between them, she might as well test their strength.
Slowly, almost accidentally, her leg brushed his once more. He didn’t move, but she knew he was aware of her. She could see it in the way his fingers whitened around the reins and hear it in the sudden change in his breathing.
While Uncle Zachery kept talking, she slid her hand behind Ford’s back and lightly brushed the hair at his collar. The act was a little thing any wife might have done, but she noticed Ford’s jaw tightened to granite.
The game gave her far more pleasure than she’d guessed it might, and judging by Ford’s face, it awarded him far more pain. If she continued, maybe he’d snap and tell her what was eating away at him.
While they rode toward town, she played with the hair just behind his ear, catching the thick strands between her fingers and tugging. When he
didn’t respond, she tugged harder.
Ford moved away slightly, but there was nowhere to go—unless he jumped. He had no choice but to endure her advances until they reached town.
But town was no refuge. When he helped her from the buggy, Hannah leaned into him, moving her body along his slowly.
She heard him bite back a moan, but he didn’t say a word to her. For a breath, she pressed so hard against him she felt his heart pounding. He stiffened, but refused to even look in her direction.
In church, she laced her arm around his and leaned her breast against his shoulder as they shared a hymnal. He didn’t move, but she smiled when he seemed to have forgotten the words.
Once when a man near the back dropped the offering plate, Hannah twisted around to look, shoving her hip against his side and sliding her hand along his arm while no one was looking. Ford appeared to have turned to stone, but his breathing seemed to speed up until she moved back into place beside him.
“Are you all right?” she whispered as she leaned against him, her mouth so close to his ear no one could have heard her words.
He didn’t answer.
As they walked out of church, Hannah took every opportunity to touch him. He gave her a quick, angry glare, but didn’t have time to say anything before others joined them and they all walked the short distance to Gavrila’s house. Hannah talked to everyone about the sermon and how much she’d enjoyed the Smith children, but her fingers never let go of his hand. When he tried to pull away, she dug her nails into his skin and scratched.
Once, when talking of how happy the children were, she lifted his hand in hers and held it to her chest.
Ford almost lost his footing.
Of course she helped him, even dusting him off with gentle strokes as though he’d actually fallen.
He didn’t respond, but followed the Burns family into Gavrila’s house, marveling at how no one had noticed her advances but him.
Harold Burns and his wife, Amy, were standard guests when Gavrila had a dinner. She detested their two boys, but considered Burns one of the richest men in town, and therefore his family was the most qualified to be guests. She suffered their sons by always putting the two boys at a small table out of her line of vision by the kitchen door.
