by Kari Trumbo
She wanted to pull herself up, to look him right in the eye and determine what it was he really wanted. She’d been forced into enough in her life, she wouldn’t force the one man who’d shown her a kindness into a life bound to someone he didn’t want, only to save her own.
He pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat. “Hattie, I’m willing to do this for you, unless you’d rather have someone else. If you know of someone you’d rather have, tell me, and I’ll find them.” His voice held a tremor she hadn’t expected, and his eyes had gone stormy. Would it wound his pride if she said no, even if it was best for him?
“Hugh, if there were any other way to save you from this, from me, I’d do it.” She used what strength she could muster and reached out, touching only his knee because she could move no further. He laid his hand on top of hers and squeezed gently, the pressure a sweet reassurance.
“If you’re sure. Rest today, and try to eat. Get your strength up. As soon as you can stand, we ride out for Hill City.”
She nodded and let the warmth of his hand seep into her. His callused thumb wove its way under hers and held tight.
“I’ll get you out of this, Hattie, I promised you I would. If you want, as soon as you’re home with your family, we can have the marriage annulled. All you have to do is ask.”
She closed her eyes and they wanted to stay that way. She struggled, but couldn’t open them again. “The same…for you, Hugh.”
He laid her hand gently down on the bed and tucked the covers up to her chin. Though she couldn’t open her eyes, she heard him moving about the cabin. The mere thought of marriage had tempted her for so long, since she’d first heard her father threaten her sisters with it, really. Now, she would be. Though, not in truth. Hugh didn’t love her. He wouldn’t hold her close or say things to her that made her wobbly inside. Those things were for people in love. People who deserved to be loved. Not prostitutes or drunks.
A pan hit against the stove with a harsh squeal and a cry tore from her. The pain in her head was unmatched. She tried to shift away from the noise when a cool cloth appeared on her head and Hugh’s soft words muttered above her. “I’m sorry, the pan slipped. Try to get some sleep. I’ll wake you when the broth is ready.”
If only she could sleep. The exhaustion was like a living, breathing demon nibbling on her soul, yet she couldn’t quiet her strange thoughts enough to drift into slumber. Three days ago, she’d planned to escape Hugh, to run far away from him, his kindness, and the threat of going back to Deadwood. To Her family. Now, she was going to wed him.
Chapter Ten
THE SMELL OF THE broth nipped at Hattie’s nose as the steam wafted off the top of the cook pot. Sage and onion with some type of meat and bones, she couldn’t tell which animal. For the first time in more days than she could recall, her mouth hungered for the feel of food on her tongue and her belly grumbled at the emptiness.
She’d never known a man who could cook before. Her pa certainly hadn’t. Hugh was full of surprises. But, of course, everything about him was. She’d only just met him, really. Had he offered to marry her or had that been a dream, and if so, why would her mind play such tricks on her? She hadn’t wanted marriage since Roy’s betrayal. But, what if Hugh had offered marriage? How could she go through with it? Roy would be held at bay, but then what? Would they pretend they were a happily married couple with a homestead and a dog…and children? Or, would he quietly annul the marriage and leave her with her sisters to rot as a spinster? Neither option held a world of appeal.
She mentally shook her head, as she couldn’t lift her own yet for the motion. She had no business complaining. He was the one strapped to her. A harlot. Tainted. If he did leave her, he’d never be able to comfortably visit his brother again. The marriage was just as much a burden for him as her. Yet, he had asked her and she knew, from his character of the last few days, he would do it without complaint.
She forced her eyes open and allowed herself to gaze upon Hugh as he stood by the stove, his back to her. Though he steadily stirred something, he was relaxed, his shoulders broad, but slanting down to strong arms that were neither so large to scare her, nor scrawny. He had most certainly worked many an hour in his life. His hair was dark as coffee and straight, clipped neatly at his neck which was dark from the sun. He turned and glanced back at her and she felt heat creep up her cheeks as, his eyes twinkled. It was the closest thing she’d seen to a smile from him. Her heart fluttered at the sight.
“Glad to see your eyes open, and getting more clear, if I might say so.” He put down the wooden spoon and strode over to her. His hand, still warm from the heat of the stove, touched her forehead gently and he brushed a lock of hair from her temple. “I’d like to move you to a chair, if you’ll let me. It’ll be easier to get this thin soup into you.”
She wanted to sit up, but the weight of her fatigue pulled upon every muscle in her body. He turned her from her side to her back and suddenly his hands slid under her knees and shoulders. He held his breath and slowly lifted her off the bed. Her heart raced so fast within her chest that the lock of hair in front of her eyes quivered with the force.
“Please, be calm, Hattie. I won’t hurt you.” He whispered to the top of her head.
In some ways, he was so like his brother Aiden, but in most, completely different. Aiden had teased and cajoled her sister Jennie at every turn. It had been obvious from their first meeting that something was between them. Hattie had been so very jealous of that, had wanted it so much. Now, she’d never have it.
Gently, he set her down in a narrow rocking chair, then he stuck his foot across the small area and pulled a four-legged ottoman over to them, propping her feet up atop it. She instantly felt less like she would fall forward and she attempted to smile at him as a thank you. He knelt down next to her until their eyes were level. He flipped his hand palm up and slipped it under hers, weaving their fingers together. Never had a man just held her hand; the solid presence beneath hers brought on a revelation. His touch was welcome.
Her throat felt raw and when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came but a harsh cough.
“If you feel steady enough for me to go get the soup, squeeze my hand.” His warm blue eyes coaxed hers to look at him. The warm pressure on her palm sent a buzzing through her, like fireflies dancing around inside her. She gave his hand as much pressure as she could muster and the sides of his eyes crinkled in pleasure.
“Good, that’s my girl. I’ll be right back. I’m only a few steps away. Thank goodness for a small cabin.”
Thank goodness, indeed. While she’d struggled to sleep at night, he’d had no such trouble. His steady heavy breaths from the loft above had been a comfort drifting down to her when she’d been too frightened that Roy would come take her away. He’d gone straight up the ladder every night as soon as he’d made sure she was fine in her bed. He kept the lamp on for a while, the soft crinkling of pages turning filtered down once in a while. Then the light would go out and soon his breathing would calm the rough edges of her frantic thoughts.
Hugh appeared in front of her with a cup and spoon. He draped a cloth over her front then brought up a spoonful of something that smelled of herbs and heaven. The steam wafted toward her as he blew on it gently then held it to her lips. She forced her mouth open and the spoon slid in easily, warming her tongue. After days without food, the broth was like water to a dying man. She let it trickle down her throat, the heat seeping outward as she swallowed. He produced another spoonful and she accepted it as well. Oh, how patient he was!
The spoon clinked softly against the bottom of the enamel cup and he glanced up at her. “How are you feeling?” He wove his hand back into her hers. “Do you want more, Hattie? I don’t want to give you more than your stomach will take.”
She did want more, but not of the soup. His attention left a fierce desire for more, almost as strong as the drink. Foolish girl, stop grasping on dreams you can’t have! She managed to move her head from side to side. He
set the cup on the small table next to her and took the towel from where he’d draped it over her, gently wiping the sides of her mouth, though, she hadn’t felt anything there. He tossed it to the side as well then gathered her up and nestled her close to his chest. Her breathing calmed; the fear was gone and only serenity remained.
“I’m proud of you. You are a strong tower, little warrior.”
She didn’t understand what he meant, but for the first time in days, her mind was sated and she closed her eyes; they were now as heavy as the rest of her.
“Sleep now. There’ll be more broth in a few hours, if you want it.” He carried her the few steps across the cabin and lowered her onto her bed. Before helping her shoulders to the pillow, he drew all her hair from her neck where it had stuck in the collar of her chemise and laid it gently over her shoulder. Then, his solid, steady hand lowered her head back to the pillow.
***
Hugh stared down at Hattie from across the room. She was such a bit of a thing. How was he ever going to explain to his little brother Aiden that Bullock ordered him to marry her in order to keep her safe? After they’d spent days alone in the cabin, it would be better anyway, but he’d never convince Aiden of that. His good name wouldn’t stand in Keystone anymore, if it ever had. Yet, a marriage of convenience… He shook his head and let all his air escape the confines of his lungs. His mam would be so disappointed. She’d already lost one son and hoped for the best for her remaining two. She’d been so happy when Aiden had found a helpmate last year. Hattie was about the farthest from what he’d ever figured his wife would be, when he’d taken the time to think on it. He wouldn’t be the one to shame Hattie, though. She’d had enough shame, he wouldn’t contribute to it. If, after she was safe from the dogs at the Red Garter, she wanted nothing more to do with him, he’d get the annulment he’d offered her.
The little cabin didn’t take long to clean and he’d already chopped wood that morning to relieve the tension the note had brought. The night had left him sleeping on needles thinking of how to tell Hattie what the letter said without scaring her. The letter itself, he’d burned in the cook stove that morning. If she found it, well, he wasn’t quite sure what she’d do. The marriage might protect her, but if Lady Ros got the right lawyer, they could make the marriage void and arrest him. Bullock himself couldn’t protect him from that, and Hugh wasn’t ready for Hattie to know what they were truly up against. Let her face that at full strength, not the wisp on the wind she was right now.
Chapter Eleven
VELVETY DARKNESS KREPT up to and around the tight little cabin and still Hattie slept. He’d checked on her at least once an hour, never getting too close, just close enough to see the slight rise and fall of her shoulder as she slept curled on her side. He’d rejoiced when she’d shifted from her back a few hours ago. It had meant the broth and the rest were working. She was healing and slowly getting stronger. The drink might always be an adversary, but she was a fighter, she could do it. He smiled at the description her family had given of her. They’d said she had a mind of her own and was willing to teach anyone just how to heed it. He hadn’t been at the brunt of that yet, but her ability to beat such a daunting habit spoke to him in ways her family hadn’t of just how bull-headed Hattie could be. He rested his head against the beam that separated the sleeping quarters from the rest of the house and counted her breaths until he was sure she was fine. Sighing heavily, he went back the spot he’d grown accustomed to by the stove.
The soft cadence of her breathing reached him as he banked the stove for the night. It was cool enough to need a blanket, but not enough that he wanted to be up all night feeding a stove. And it made him feel better to stay in his small corner upstairs and give her room to feel comfortable at night. He took one last look around and saw that everything was in order, then grabbed his small oil lamp and took it to the ladder leading to his loft. He hadn’t slept in a loft since he was a child, but there was no way Hattie could get up the ladder.
His bed was meant for a child and he had to lay pert near bent in half to fit, but it was better than the floor, at least a little. He propped himself up against the wall and laid his Bible on his lap. Marrying Hattie should’ve filled him with a terrible fear, but it didn’t. He’d known from the moment he read the note that he was supposed to take care of her and this was the way it had to be done.
He flicked the pages over his thumb, enjoying the sound of the paper as he flipped through them. This book that had given him comfort since he’d changed almost a year before, now felt like lead on his lap. A prayer of supplication fell from his lips, but he couldn’t feel a response to his pleas for help. Though the book gave him knowledge and peace, he hadn’t heard from the Lord since that night.
He’d been working in the barn in Kansas with Aiden trying to finish up the work quickly so his brother could return to Jennie. They’d just finished harvesting the field. Aiden had assumed big brother Hugh followed in Da’s footsteps in every way, including in faith. Hugh had let his anger with Aiden cloud all reason, as he usually did, and had called him ten kinds of a fool for following fey tales of long ago. The memory was so clear he could recall it like it happened yesterday. Aiden had challenged him on his lack of belief and Hugh’d been ready to punch him. A wind had swept into the barn and swirled around them, but there had been no other wind that day, not even a breeze. It had set the metal tools above their heads clanking together and a giant scythe fell from its hook and landed in a crack just inches from his booted foot. If he’d taken that angry step toward his brother, it would’ve sliced his skull in two.
Later, they had asked Da about the wind gust but no one else felt it, though, it would’ve been strong enough to blow things around through the open windows of the house. Mam had told him it was her mam up in heaven, making sure his heart and feet were in the right place. But then, like her mam before her, his had always said little prayers to her parents. It was more like talking to a friend in the room than an actual prayer. Hugh shook his head. That night, he’d picked up the Bible he’d gotten at the old country school for the first time since he’d received it. Now, he couldn’t end his day without it. It had fortified him, until now.
What was wrong with him? He flipped open the pages, trying to remember where he’d been reading and his eye caught on Hosea. He scanned the first chapter, reading that Hosea had received the same message Hugh had; marry a prostitute. But that wasn’t the end. His stomach fell further to the soles of his feet the more he read. He slapped the book shut and set it on his table, turning down the wick and plunging his room into the same darkness as his thoughts.
What if Hattie used him to get free of Ros, but then left him to work somewhere else? Keystone was a growing town, with more than one saloon. Would he, like Hosea, be forced to save her yet again, and would she want to be saved? Could he even make himself do it? If she dishonored him by leaving him and going back to that life, he wasn’t so sure. He was only a man.
So was Hosea. The words caressed his aching head and filled him with a warmth he couldn’t account for in the chill of the night.
Hugh pulled his boots off his feet and set aside his clothes in the blackness of the loft. The little bed was lumpy and left him shifting to find a comfortable spot. He’d read the Psalms and knew tests of faith were coming, but he hadn’t expected a test that would rock him so utterly, so soon after choosing to follow Christ. He jammed his knuckles into his eyes and scrubbed. Okay, I’m listening.
***
Hattie’s eyes whipped open as the house collapsed into full darkness. Her pulse raced as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the moonlight caressing the windowpane a few feet away. Hugh’s nighttime ritual had been different tonight. He never let his agitation show, though, she knew men well enough to know that at one point, the bits of anger he let slip, had ruled him. It had frightened her until he’d proven to her that, while some emotion boiled inside him, he wouldn’t release it against her. She shivered and yanked the quilt up
around her neck.
She’d fallen asleep in full daylight and now it was night, her body was rested and, though she was as weak as a kitten, it was progress.
She slid to the side of the bed and jammed her feet into her boots, wrapping the house coat around her. It was the house coat Hugh had bought her to replace the robe she’d brought with her from the Red Garter. The night he’d brought her all the clothes, her old robe had disappeared along with her torn chemise. She wasn’t about to ask Hugh about them. If she’d had her way, they’d have burned. The stove seemed far away, but it would still be warm. If she hurried, she could get more of the broth he’d made and maybe even tailor a few of the items Hugh had gotten for her. She could wear a skirt or blouse that didn’t fit quite right, but an ill-fitting corset, now that was another matter. Also, she couldn’t mend her clothes with him wandering around, since she only had the one corset. She’d have to take it off to fix it.
Pushing herself from the bed to her feet, she wobbled as the cabin shifted precariously around her. She could do this. She was Hattie Arnsby, the stubborn one, or so she’d been told. Just one foot in front of the other until she made it to the small clutch of dishes to the right of the stove. Hugh had already washed everything and put it away neatly. That alone was a prize. How would she ever be worthy of his sacrifice? He was completely self-sufficient, able to cook and clean all on his own. He didn’t need her one whit.
Hattie pinched her arm to get her thoughts back in order. She couldn’t think about those things now. A lamp next to the stove provided just enough light to see what she was doing, but not enough to rouse Hugh, or so she hoped. She took the dipper from the water pail and stirred the broth. It had a layer of solid fat on top that protected it. She dipped lower and filled a cup with the barely warm broth, then found a suitable lid for the pan and covered it. The scent of the broth taunted her stomach as she made her way to the same rocker she’d used earlier that day. Somehow, it wasn’t half as nice of a seat without a handsome cowboy with dark blue eyes sitting in front of her. Would he still act that way when she was healed…or would he abandon her? That little voice of fear would not be quieted. No man had ever proven trustworthy, why would they start now?
