by Jodi Thomas
As the adults took their places, Gavrila gave her standard threat to the children not to touch anything or she’d know.
When Ford pulled Hannah’s chair out, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Hannah smiled up at him as if he’d said an endearment. “I’m keeping up my end of our bargain—the one you’re so set on keeping. Touching in public, remember?”
He leaned close again. “Well, stop overdoing it! You were outright attacking me in church.”
“Tell me what’s eating at you and I’ll stop.”
“Nothing is bothering me but you, darlin’.” If church had lasted another hour he’d have gone stark raving mad from her movements next to him. She’d managed to rub almost every part of her body against his, while looking like an angel in church every time he glared at her.
Hannah smoothed the hair off his collar and leaned her breast against his arm. “I don’t plan on stopping until you start talking. Unless, of course, you tell me you hate my touch and that’s the reason you’ve been avoiding me since Tuesday.”
Ford stared at her with angry eyes. Though he couldn’t take much more of her flirting, he couldn’t lie and tell her he hated it. She must have a pretty good idea what her touch was doing to him. He’d sworn to be a gentleman and ride this marriage out. If he ever grabbed her and showed her how he really felt about her pressing against him, he’d probably frighten her to death—or she’d go running to Gavrila, swearing the rumors about him were true.
The others filed around the table and took their seats: the Burnses, the Combses, and of course Widow Rogers and her son, Alamo, who had the choice seat next to Gavrila. No one seemed to notice that Ford was silent. They were all too busy telling Gavrila what a wonderful meal she’d prepared. Ford knew she had two women in the kitchen doing all the work, but as always he didn’t say anything as he watched his sister rattle on about all her many responsibilities.
Every now and then, Gavrila would reach over and swat at Alamo’s arm or shoulder. To Ford it seemed more an ownership pat than an endearment, and it was nothing like the pats Hannah kept giving his knee under the table.
As he lifted his first bite of soup, Hannah’s hand slid up his leg as boldly as Sherman’s advance into the South. Ford almost dropped the spoon.
“Ford!” Gavrila shouted from the other end of the table. “Watch what you’re doing.”
He bit back a comment and stared at Hannah, who had the nerve to smile as innocently as a cherub.
From then on, he watched his wife closely. She was so calm as she talked with the Combses on her right while her left hand slid up the muscle of his thigh. When she turned her attention to him, it was even harder trying to remain proper. She always managed to brush his arm or reach out to touch him in some little way that looked endearing to everyone at the table but was driving him mad.
Ford focused his attention on the other end of the table, where Gavrila seemed to be courting Alamo. Until his marriage, Ford had never seen her give Alamo more than a passing glance, but today she was definitely sighting in for the kill.
Hannah made him forget all about anyone at the table as she accidentally dropped her napkin and leaned low, brushing his side, to retrieve it. He felt the softness of her breast and shoved the image of her dressing in the mirror’s reflection from his mind.
He barely made it through dessert without strangling Hannah. When everyone left the table, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs.
“I’d like to show you something, darlin’.”
“But the guests…” She tried to pull away.
“We’ll only be a moment.” He tugged harder. At this point, he was willing to drag her up the stairs. She’d played with his leg until the muscle felt like it was on fire. She’d leaned so close he’d never forget the way she smelled or the feel of her words against his throat. She’d driven him completely mad by brushing against him and then looking to all the world as if she hadn’t noticed the effect she had on him.
Hannah managed a smile at the watching guests. “I’m coming, dear,” she said unnecessarily, for they were already a third of the way up the stairs.
Ford didn’t slow down until he was inside his office and had slammed the door. He pushed her against the wall, planted powerful arms on either side of her, imprisoning her effectively without touching her. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Hannah stared out the curtainless window into a cloudy sky that seemed colorless compared to the thunderstorm in Ford’s eyes. “Nothing. I haven’t been doing anything except keeping to our agreement.”
He swore beneath his breath and turned his back to her. Lord, if she only knew how dearly he wanted to hold her. But a thief wasn’t what he wanted in a wife, and she couldn’t seem to give up the profession. She’d proved that in White’s store. Ford wasn’t the kind of man who could play games at loving. He’d replaced the writing kit she’d stolen by making an all-day ride into Mobeetie, where he’d guessed another store had probably received the same shipment as White’s store. Mr. White had been surprised Friday when he found it beneath a sack of flour. Told half the town what a fool he’d been to think someone stole it in Saints Roost. He even convinced himself that he probably accidentally laid the flour on top of the kit.
“I don’t remember you swearing until lately.” Hannah moved behind him, looking at the plain room he called his office. It had none of the color or warmth of his home, and she guessed he spent as little time here as he must. “Swearing’s a bad habit for a godly man like yourself, don’t you think?”
“I may take up drinking next, if you don’t stop.” He braced his hands on either side of the window frame. It was so hard not to turn around and pull her into his arms. Maybe he’d died that night in Dallas and this was some level of hell. If so he didn’t want to see the next level.
Hannah slid her hand down the center of his back, making him arch his neck. “I told you from the first I liked touching you.” She wanted to scream “talk to me!” but she’d tried one too many times already to break the shell around this man. The only way she seemed to reach him was with her caress.
“But do you have to…” He couldn’t finish. How could he ask her not to make him feel? How could he explain that after a lifetime of not being touched, her nearness was driving him mad.
“Turn around,” Hannah ordered. “Face me, Ford.”
“No,” he answered. “I can’t and stay a gentleman.”
She played with the muscles along his back as she pressed her cheek near his ear. “I don’t want to argue with you. Is it so painful to feel my touch or to look at me? You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted to be near. I see nothing wrong with touching you or letting you hold me.”
Ford closed his eyes, thinking she’d never know just how painful it was to deny her request. “Why are you doing this? And don’t tell me it’s because of our bargain. What you’ve done today goes far beyond any agreement.”
Hannah rested her chin against the back of his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ve never felt safe with a man before. I guess I just want you to notice me.” Shame for the forward way she’d acted whispered through her desire to touch him again. He was the only man who’d ever treated her like a lady and he was trying to keep his distance. They both knew the closer they got the harder it would be to say good-bye. She had to be able to walk away in only two weeks. “I’m sorry I’m pushing you.”
His muscles relaxed across his shoulders and he turned around. “Don’t, Hannah. I’m only a man. We both know there can be nothing between us, and to pretend otherwise is only a fool’s dream.”
“Don’t close me out like I’m nobody.” Tears threatened to tumble. “Don’t walk around me as if I’m not there. Don’t sit across from me at a meal and pretend you’re alone, even if you wish you were.”
“That is not it at all, darlin’,” he whispered, turning slightly. He felt like a sn
ake for making her so sad, even though he knew his actions were right. “I’m very much aware you’re here.”
“Couldn’t we find someplace in the middle where we could both be comfortable?” She didn’t want him being cold to her. In a way his cold politeness was worse than outright anger.
He offered his hand. He hadn’t thought that his actions were hurting her; he’d only meant to protect himself. “I have a great deal to learn about women. For the time that’s left, is it possible we could be friends?”
“That’s a start.” She accepted his hand.
Ford closed his fingers around hers. “I have no wish to hurt you.” He only guessed, but all the signs were there—someone had hurt her, maybe even hit her before. He could never add more bruises to her heart. “There can never be more between us. We made a bargain to help one other out, nothing more.” Each word seemed to knife its way past his throat, hurting Ford as much as Hannah.
“Nothing more,” she echoed without looking at him. “You’re sure?”
“I wouldn’t allow there to be,” he answered, wishing he could believe his words.
She nodded, knowing there was no use arguing. Ford didn’t want her; what else was there to say? She’d complete the bargain and leave without pestering him anymore.
They walked hand in hand down the stairs and into the parlor, where they’d been married only two weeks before. A hush fell over the room when they entered, leaving no doubt that they’d been the topic of conversation only moments before.
“There are the newlyweds!” Gavrila’s voice was loud enough to wake the barn owl. “I was just telling everyone that from the way you two acted on your wedding day, you must have known one another for a long time.”
Ford wasn’t about to be drawn into one of his sister’s conversations. He’d learned after years of embarrassment that he couldn’t win. She was far quicker at crisscrossing meanings of what was said than he’d ever be.
Gavrila stared at him, then let out a long-suffering sigh as she turned to the others. “My brother never seems to want to talk about anything but the weather.”
Hannah watched, wishing Ford would say something, not understanding why he didn’t.
Turning her attention to Hannah, Gavrila counterattacked Ford’s silence. “Perhaps you’ll enlighten us, sister-in-law. Just how did you and my brother meet?”
Hannah’s hesitation was so slight, no one but Ford noticed it.
“We met one night when Ford helped me catch a train. In fact, if he hadn’t been so kind and generous I never would have made it. From that night on, he was my knight in shining armor. Men so good are rare indeed.”
Everyone, including Gavrila, looked interested, so Hannah continued. “When I heard he was searching for a schoolteacher, I knew I was right for the job before he even thought to ask me.” She smiled at the Burnses. “I knew any town that had a fine resident like Sanford Colston couldn’t be anything but an upright, God-fearing place.”
Gavrila looked disappointed. She obviously hadn’t intended the conversation to turn into a tribute to her brother.
Mr. Burns started talking about school improvements and Hannah smiled, realizing Gavrila had lost all control of the room. Mrs. Burns and the widow laughed over the past two almost-thefts in town. Hannah had heard the children talking about how White thought someone stole from him.
She stood close to Ford, touching him whenever she could, but no longer playing the game she had before. He never returned her light pats and caring little caresses, but he didn’t pull away from her either. They’d reached a truce that seemed to allow both to breathe.
When they finally stood to leave, Hannah thought Ford seemed more relaxed than she’d seen him in days. He enjoyed talking about improvements in the town, and his ideas were solid. Burns pumped his hand, showing a new respect for Gavrila’s brother that he hadn’t displayed before.
Gavrila missed the conversation, for she had caught the Burns brothers playing with her tea service, which always sat in waiting by the windows. She scolded them so harshly that Mrs. Burns apologized for her sons as she ushered them out the door. The boys only glared at Gavrila and tried to collect their marbles before she noticed them rolling around the serving tray.
Alamo and his mother hurried behind the Burnses as if escaping the plague. Widow Rogers said a thanks and waved, but Alamo didn’t even look back as he helped his mother out the door.
Gavrila stomped her foot as she turned back to Hannah and Ford. “Children are such a bother,” she whispered so the departing guests couldn’t hear. “I’m never having any, and I hope you’ll follow my example, Hannah.”
Ford pulled Hannah toward the door, knowing it would be wise to follow now that all the guests were out of hearing distance. “Thanks for the meal, Gavrila. But if you don’t mind, we’ll plan our own life. As for children, we plan to have one for every year we’re married. And don’t worry, we’ll visit you often.”
Hannah couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on Gavrila’s face.
Ford swung his wife into the buggy and slapped the reins before Gavrila had a chance to reply. They had almost arrived to pick up Uncle Zachery before he stopped laughing, then glanced at Hannah and had the wild thought that he wished it were true about the children.
But then he realized half of their children would be unlucky enough to look like him and the other half would be thieves.
Chapter 18
UNCLE ZACHERY TOOK fifteen minutes to tell Ford and Hannah that he couldn’t go home with them. It seemed Jinx had talked him into riding out to the Smith place just to double-check on the baby, then she’d invited him to supper again. For a woman who claimed she cooked little, Jinx was certainly keeping the oven warm lately.
Ford offered to come back for him or let Zachery borrow one of the horses he kept in Gavrila’s barn, but Uncle Zachery insisted that he’d take care of himself and they shouldn’t bother to wait up for him.
Though Ford waved, calling back that they’d see him later, Hannah knew Zachery wouldn’t be returning tonight. She’d seen him glance toward the door of the extra room off the post office. She wasn’t sure why her new uncle wanted to stay, but she guessed it had more to do with Jinx than checkers.
Hannah and Ford pulled out of town alone for the night for the first time in a week. She tried to think of something to say, but it was hopeless. Hannah thought of apologizing again for the way she’d acted in church, but she didn’t really regret what she’d done. In truth, she’d never dreamed church could be so exciting.
Glancing over at Ford, she wondered for the hundredth time what there was about the man that made him so touchable. He seemed to try hard to be proper, as though nothing in this world could bother him.
Hannah couldn’t hide her smile. I bother him, she thought. I cannot only disturb that proper air, I can make him feel things deep down where he doesn’t want to admit he has emotions. His sister might have known him all his life, but Gavrila was wrong about Ford. Deep within him wasn’t an animal, but a wealth of untapped senses. Feelings so deeply rooted in control, Hannah might never pull them to the surface.
“What’s so funny?” Ford interrupted her thoughts.
“Nothing,” Hannah replied hastily, trying to tuck her thoughts into proper order, “I was just thinking.”
Ford waited. He didn’t question her again or attempt to pry, he just waited for her to continue. His silence made her nervous.
“I was thinking what a pretty day it is.” Hannah mentally slapped herself for not coming up with something more interesting to say. When she got out of this mess, she planned to spend her days following strangers around, eavesdropping on their conversations so that she’d know what things normal, everyday folks talked about. Ford sure wasn’t giving her any practice.
He seemed to be battling the same problem she was, for he started twice before he finally said, “Yes, it is.”
This time it was Hannah’s turn to wait for more. Of course if it took him three
tries to think of those three words, she might be in for a long wait.
Ford opened his mouth once but changed his mind. Finally, he smiled and added, “Looks like we may be in for that storm tonight that’s been promising to drop by for a visit.” He glanced at her as if giving her a chance to talk, then added, “See those clouds along the horizon?”
Hannah loved the sunsets on cloudy days out here on the plains. The sun seemed to spread for miles and turn the bottom half of all the clouds to gold, then orange, and finally violet. She wondered if the sun felt sorry for these people living out here in this treeless, colorless land and decided to paint the sky brilliant every evening just to give them something to look at besides tumbleweeds and brown buffalo grass.
She smiled again, thinking that she was starting to sound like her mother. To her mother everything, even the moon, sun, and wind were beings in their own right. The moon could dance, the sun could kiss your cheeks, the wind could call you. Hannah only believed such folly in the night when reality was covered in shadow and walked between the real world and dreams.
Hannah fought to keep from laughing; she was starting to think like her mother.
“You’re smiling again.” Ford’s low voice interrupted her thoughts once more. “You like watching the clouds?”
“I was thinking the sunset is beautiful.” She realized they were talking, but neither seemed to be following the other’s conversation very well.
“Yes, it is,” Ford added, but he was looking at her and not the sun. “Very beautiful.”
“My mother used to say that when the sun goes home each evening, it pulls a blanket of fire behind it.”
“That’s what it looks like,” Ford agreed. He wanted to ask about her mother, but he didn’t believe in prying. However, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to have had a mother to tell him such things as a child. His father had always been very practical, never wasting words. In fact, he never talked to Ford unless he had to, and then only in short sentences or orders mostly.
