Hannah prayed Daniel wouldn’t find it until she’d left Marinette. And then, she hoped he’d visit Bess before running off half-cocked to do something they would both regret. For all their sakes, she couldn’t allow Daniel to avenge her. That task should rightly fall to her alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
He had to marry Hannah, and he had to do it soon, Daniel decided. After yesterday, he couldn’t bear to be without her. A memory of their bodies, moving, flooded him with fresh desire.
Guilt darkened the image as he remembered afterward, the sadness in her eyes. Did she still think of Malcolm, despite the way that she’d responded? Would she heal in time of all the scars he’d left on her?
Surely, with his patience, with his gentleness, he could make her well. He promised himself again he would keep her safe forever, safe with him.
Sitting at his bed’s edge, he sighed tiredly and rubbed the leg he’d bruised falling on the ice. Thank God Amelia had finally fallen asleep. After dinner last night, her stomach started hurting again, and he’d spent most of the night escorting her back and forth to the outhouse. He’d finally grabbed a few hours of shut-eye leaning up against her bed, but he was due at least a couple more sprawled out on his own. As far as he could see, the only positive was that his fatherly duties had kept him too busy to think of other things.
Like Hannah, lying beneath him, accepting him into her. He ached with want just remembering her sweet cry, the feel of her quick breaths against his flesh.
Surely, she’d see reason now and set a wedding date.
Daniel sighed and laid back on his pillow. Beneath his head, he heard a crinkling sound. Curious, he lifted the pillow and watched an envelope slide out of the case.
Dear God, it was a letter. She’d come to end it after all. Why, then, why had she allowed him to —hell, there was no sense in imagining what the letter said. He might as well open the damned thing and read it.
Daniel’s hand trembled as it reached toward the lamp to turn up the narrow flame. That task completed, he opened the envelope carefully, as if his huge fingers might jar the letters from the page.
He opened it, read quickly, and then shook his head in disbelief. She would leave him with just a letter, and then slink off to Pennsylvania? This made no sense at all. What “family business” could possibly entice her to return? From what he understood, Hannah’s family had disowned her. Why then, why would she have done this thing?
I don’t want to settle for whatever crumbs he left me of my life. She’d said that, right after she’d picked up the chess piece and made some statement about attacking. That day, she’d sounded so resolute, so sure of what she was about. Though she’d never again made such remarks, Daniel hadn’t been able to forget them. Those words and her determination had convinced him that Malcolm Shelton hadn’t broken her at all.
Now those same words, coupled with this letter, convinced him Hannah’s message was a lie. She wasn’t going back to Pennsylvania to attend some family matter. Her purpose was far darker. She meant to destroy Malcolm, to kill him so he’d never threaten her again.
Again and again, he reread the single page, as if trying to absorb the meaning from the slant of her neat script and the expensive fiber of the Brannon stationery. He tried, without success, to convince himself he was wrong, that Hannah would not do this thing.
She would, though. He knew it in his heart. And if she succeeded, the gentle woman he had come to love would be utterly destroyed.
He thought about the young man he had been, marching off to join a faraway war, his notions of loyalty and honor filling him like the first puffs of spring warmth filled white sails. He remembering killing, in all innocence, killing for his cause, until that last time. Until that bloodied bayonet.
Had it destroyed him? Afterwards, he’d turned to the surgical corps and helped to save instead of slaughter. At the war’s end, he’d returned home, married, and fathered a daughter. The healing touch he honed amid the piles of ruined limbs had helped him build a future tending horses and cattle on the farm. None of those things had destroyed him, he admitted, but they had forever altered him.
He thought of Hannah with his daughter. God, how Mary would have loved the woman; how grateful she would be to know how Hannah treasured Amelia. He thought of Hannah’s strength, her kindness, the passion of her kisses, and more than ever, he wanted to protect the woman that she was. Though he knew Malcolm had driven her to a place beyond innocence, committing murder would drive her, instead, beyond redemption. If her attempt succeeded, she would be jailed or even hung. If it failed and Malcolm caught her, he would surely finish what he had so nearly accomplished outside of Marinette.
At the thought of Malcolm, hatred pumped through Daniel’s body thick as blood. He longed to kill the murderer himself, with his bare hands. He remembered the smeared puddle of Gen Tanner’s blood on the church floor, the bruises and the bite marks all over Hannah, Amelia’s incoherent terror after the shooting and abduction. His fists clenched in rage as he thought of the smug alibi sent by Shelton’s sheriff friend.
He realized how much he’d wanted Malcolm to return here, to try for Hannah once again. His daydreams had been filled for weeks with visions of revenge.
Then he remembered Hannah’s insistence that he not interfere. He had a daughter to think of, she insisted. Didn’t she understand that, in all the ways that mattered, she now had a daughter, too? Couldn’t she see how much Amelia needed her, how much he needed her?
Perhaps not. Hannah had been thrown away by a husband, the remnants of her family, even the community in which she’d lived. All for the crime of being barren. Maybe it would take years of loving for her to believe that she had value, that she was far more than some dried-up brood cow.
Damn her for a fool! How could she discard what they had on the chance of getting even? The notion sounded wrong, too unlike Hannah. Even when she’d pulled off the hoax with splattered blood, she’d acted more out of a need for security than vengeance. Then maybe that was it. Maybe she found the idea of looking over her shoulder the rest of her life so repulsive she’d do anything to avoid it.
I won’t be pitiful, she’d told him. Pride, too. It was all mixed up with fear and pride.
John would have a Bible verse on that one, he imagined, but he didn’t want to hear it now. As the first rays of dawn paled the cabin’s window, all he wanted was a quick word with his brother before he went to stop Hannah from leaving.
He could only pray he’d be on time.
o0o
Bess should have been surprised to see John on a Monday. Under normal circumstances, he would have waited until the weekend to return. But nothing had been normal since this morning. She’d seen Hannah off at the train station first thing, the way they’d planned. Within the hour, Daniel showed up at her door, demanding to see Hannah. He’d barely listened to her explanation, but stormed away amid a cloud of frustrated oaths.
Now John had arrived, and it was barely past the noon hour. Bess’s stomach tightened as her mother announced him. Mrs. Brannon took Amelia to the library to read the child a story so Bess and John could talk in Father’s study.
“Do you have any idea what you helped set in motion?” John demanded.
Bess bristled at his tone. “Hannah is a grown woman. She had good reasons for wanting to keep Daniel here while she went to Pennsylvania.”
“Malcolm tried to kill her, and you sent her right back to him. Don’t you realize she’s the only witness who can tie him to Gen Tanner’s murder?”
“Calm down. Hannah’s not going anywhere near Shelton Creek. She promised. I tried to explain to Daniel, she’s inherited her aunt’s estate. She wants to get it settled so she can help finance the horse farm here. This has nothing to do with her former husband.”
“Use your head, Bess. This story of hers —does it make sense? She’s going back to kill him, or maybe this whole inheritance story is something he concocted to lure her to the area. How can you be so
naïve?”
“Don’t you dare speak to me as if I’m stupid. Hannah wouldn’t lie to me. And she’s certain Malcolm’s put this past him by now. Why shouldn’t he? He got away with murder.”
“He hunted her down once and waited months to take her. Does he sound like a man who puts things past him? Besides, if Sheriff Skinner thought she was safe, why would he post a man here to watch over her?”
“Post a man? What are you talking about?” Bess’s heart fluttered in her chest.
“Sheriff Skinner sends his deputies to keep an eye on her. Didn’t your father tell you?”
Tears blurred Bess’s vision. “No. You men never tell us anything, and then you think we’re being silly when we don’t understand. Hannah’s right. You do treat us as if we’re feebleminded.”
“There’s nothing feeble about either of your minds. You’re just more emotional, that’s all, and more prone to get in trouble.”
Bess ground her teeth in frustration. “I’m beginning to think I don’t know you at all. If you had confided in me before this happened, I never would have helped her.”
“If you had asked me about this scheme the two of you cooked up, she’d still be safe right here. Daniel’s going after her, of course. I only hope he reaches her in time.”
“I am not apologizing, John. I did what I thought was right, with the information I’d been given. Hannah will be fine. She has to be. Maybe both you and Daniel should trust in her more. And in me as well!” she added. Despite her angry words, she’d never been so frightened. Could Hannah have gone to kill the man who’d raped her? It seemed impossible, but so did much about the woman. Even more alarming was the idea that Malcolm might have lured Hannah to a place where he could silence her.
“If anything happens to either of them —”
“Stop!” Bess crossed her arms and took one step forward. “I’ve listened to your insults long enough. I will not be threatened, too. How can I contemplate marriage to a man who thinks I’m some sort of hysterical ninny? More prone to trouble, my Aunt Nora! I think you should leave before either of us says something unforgivable.”
“Too late for that,” John snapped. He turned on his heel toward the doorway.
Another thought occurred to her, and she forced herself to take a deep, slow breath. “If you can refrain from insulting me again, there’s something else I think you should know.”
John turned toward her and glowered. “What else?”
“She said she’d need protection for the journey, in case of rough men at the stations.” Bess hesitated, trying to glean a clue of Hannah’s motive from the memory of their conversation. She recalled no hint of either fear or lust for vengeance. Frowning, the blonde stared at the carpet’s ornate border and continued. “She talked me into buying her a little two-shot derringer. When Hannah left here, she was armed.”
John slammed the door on his way out.
o0o
Skinner felt his mouth pucker in irritation. “You’re sure she left Marinette?”
“Sacre bleu!” swore Lemaster. “You don’t think I can tell when a woman boards a train? I learned she had a ticket for Chicago, but beyond that, who knows where she’ll go?”
“Damn.” Was Hannah running, or was she going after Malcolm Shelton? Skinner poured Lemaster coffee, then himself. He considered wiring the law in Shelton Creek, then remembered what Daniel Aldman had told him about Handley. Any message he sent would go straight to Malcolm Shelton. Then if Hannah showed up, she would have no chance at all.
“What you gonna do?” His deputy curved both hands around the coffee mug to warm them.
“Nothing,” Skinner answered. “Except let Aldman know everything we do. We don’t have funds or cause to chase her. She hasn’t done anything illegal —yet.”
o0o
By the time Daniel packed a bag, made arrangements for Amelia, and returned to Marinette, he’d already lost much of the day. He muttered curses when he learned the train schedules would delay him in Green Bay until morning. Blast Hannah for her deceit! When he caught hold of her, he’d tell her exactly how he felt about her foolhardy intrigues. She belonged with him, where he could keep her safe forever.
A nightmare vision disrupted his fuming. Hannah’s pale hand jutting just above the icy water. Hannah, when he’d pulled her from it, blue-lipped and battered nearly beyond recognition. Raped and bleeding and so desperately ashamed. Dear God, how could he live through it again?
Shaken by fear for her, he sat alone aboard the crowded Green Bay line. His expression must have persuaded his fellow passengers to give him a wide berth. Just as well, he decided. Right now, even the bare minimum of civility was far beyond him. Until he held Hannah in his arms, nothing would be right.
o0o
It was too late to be visiting. Too late to pound on that enormous door. But John did it nonetheless. He’d left Amelia with his uncle, and afterwards he’d ridden until the skies grew black and a waxing, silver moon rose.
He shivered against the chill of the spring night. The smells of moist earth and young grasses reminded him he should be on the farm, preparing to sow seed. But he couldn’t go back yet, not until he spoke to Bess. Once again, he hammered on that great, emblazoned door.
Daisy opened it a crack and peered out. The black woman’s eyelids were puffed with sleep, and her gray robe hung askew. Recognizing him, she jerked awake.
He wondered if she was remembering the day that he arrived, shot through the arm. The day that he and Daniel brought Hannah back.
“Mr. Aldman? What are you doing here?” Despite her questions, the tall young woman ushered him into the parlor and lit a lamp.
“I need to talk to Bess now.”
“You sure she wants to see you? She’s been crying up there all afternoon.” Daisy nodded toward the staircase. Then her eyes narrowed in consideration. “Besides, it’s late. The missus would flay you with that sharp tongue if she knew you was here now.”
“I’m going to talk to Bess. Either you can get her, or I’m going to her room.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Lord, they’d keep me up all night then, with all sorts of goings on. I’ll see if Miss Bess will come down now. But don’t you upset that girl, or I’ll wake Mrs. Brannon in a hurry.”
John nodded miserably and took a seat, then waited. From Mr. Brannon’s study, he heard the ticking of a clock, the clock that had once marked the long seconds before the older man gave his blessing to John’s request to marry Bess. Might that same clock tick out the last seconds of their love tonight?
The minutes ticked by slowly. John wondered if he should come back in the morning. Then, at last, he heard Bess’s footsteps on the stairs. He stood, awaiting her.
Bess must have been in bed, for her gold tresses streamed wildly against a pale blue dressing gown. Her eyes, too, were swollen, but John suspected it was from tears instead of sleep.
Bess stood in the parlor’s doorway, frowning. “Did you come back to tell me how stupid I was? I doubt your words could hurt more then the ones I’ve used to blame myself. You don’t need to tell me anymore.”
Her voice hitched, then broke into bitter tears.
John crossed the floor in an instant and encircled her within his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid for Hannah and my brother, and earlier I spoke without thinking. I know you love them, too. Hannah is your best friend. You would never do anything to hurt her, to hurt either of them.”
“If something —if something happens, I’ll never forgive myself,” Bess said.
“. . . Your sins are forgiven you for his name’s sake,” John quoted. “God knows, we all do things we regret. I have, and one of them was hurting you. I need you. I love you, Bess.”
She leaned into his embrace.
John stroked her fine hair with his fingers. “Losing Hannah would be hard enough, for both of us. I don’t think I could bear to lose you, too.”
“I love you so much. I was so afraid that it was over.” Bess arched her neck and
met his kiss with a passion that surprised him.
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Daisy’s dark face in the doorway. She smiled and nodded. Then he heard her soft footsteps receding toward her own room, as she made a gift of privacy.
John and Bess soon put it to good use.
o0o
Before she reached Chicago, Hannah turned the ruby of her engagement ring downward, toward her palm. When she switched trains, she carefully, but discreetly, displayed the plain gold band to any eyes that roved in her direction. A woman traveling alone, she had fielded far too many inquiries on her way to Peshtigo. This time, the ring and her absorption in a borrowed copy of Little Women kept her conversations to a minimum.
Throughout the journey, only one lout pestered her, and that occurred not far west of Pittsburgh. Exhausted by rushed meals, bad food, and little rest, Hannah resorted to feigned tears inside her handkerchief, and the opening of what promised to be a long, dull tale of her dying mother. The greasy clod excused himself without further ado. It seemed he sought only a woman’s laughter, not her tears.
The train disgorged only herself and two gray-haired gentlemen at the small stop of Hampton Falls. Cold drizzle chilled her as she hurried into the cramped station office.
Behind a desk, a balding man with a fringe of sandy hair shuffled papers and glared in her direction. A map of fine wrinkles underscored his look of irritation. Hannah glanced behind herself, certain her appearance couldn’t be the cause of such hostility.
Neither of the other passengers had followed.
“I’m Miss Shelton. I was to be met, but the train’s running a bit late.”
“Nothing new in that,” he muttered. He took a moment to check the time on an expensive-looking pocket watch. Then he sighed, as if in regret, and pushed aside the sheaf of papers. “You don’t remember me, I take it.”
She looked more closely. Deep-set hazel eyes sparked a memory. “Roger? Roger Lee?” The years had been hard on her cousin. Though only a half-dozen years her elder, Roger looked nearly old enough to be her father.
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