Читать книгу Western Christmas Brides - Carol Arens - Страница 12

Chapter Two

Teddy willed himself not to turn around for a final look. Hannah had already closed the door, so he wouldn’t see her. Other than in his mind. A place where her image was etched as perfectly as the pictures she flawlessly carved into the blocks of wood. He’d been printing newspapers for as long as he could remember and producing multiple copies of pictures was not an easy task. Leastwise it never used to be. His and Abigail’s engravings always collected ink and left globs that bled into the print. That hadn’t happened once with Hannah’s creations.

Her etchings were as flawless as her beauty. He’d been alongside Brett the day Hannah had stepped off the train, and had tried to keep his distance from that moment on. He’d fallen for a forlorn young woman once before and promised himself it would never happen again.

Keeping his distance had been easy at first. Brett’s mother had sent Hannah to Oak Grove and Brett and Fiona had taken her into their home and protected her as strongly as a mother bear would a cub in spring. The entire town discovered why when Hannah’s shape had begun to change.

Teddy let out a long sigh as his hands started to tingle. Touching her, feeling that baby move inside her, had been amazing. Miraculous even. And caused a large amount of compassion to well inside him. She was so young to be widowed and now was expecting a child all on her own.

Only she wasn’t on her own. Brett and Fiona treated her like family and would continue to.

Still, in a town the size of Oak Grove, which was small compared to many but growing steadily, a single woman—widowed or not, expecting or not—was a highly sought after commodity. Last summer the town had formed a Betterment Committee in order to bring suitable women of marrying age to town. Several men had married the mail-order brides, but although he’d contributed to the committee, too, he hadn’t sought out any of the brides. Hadn’t even considered doing so. He’d only gone along with the cause for appearance’s sake. Five years ago he’d gone down the road that led to marriage, but had hit a painful roadblock, which had taught him a valuable lesson.

That was part of the reason he’d kept his distance from Hannah and would continue to, even though her growing stomach made her all the more beautiful to him. He could imagine her having a baby girl with golden curls and blue eyes as lovely as her mother’s.

A tremendous sense of satisfaction grew inside of him as he once again recalled touching her stomach. Feeling the baby move. He couldn’t believe that had happened. Knew it shouldn’t have happened, because every time he looked at her, he was reminded of another young girl carrying a baby. One he’d been ready to claim as his own.

A gust of wind caught him off guard. Teddy tightened his hold on the papers and blocks of wood in his hands, but relentless, the wind won and the bottom piece of paper caught the air. Teddy hurried after it, and stopped it with a stomp of one foot. While bending down to pick it up, he paused. Rather than a drawing, this one held writing. Neat and stylish penmanship he instantly recognized as Hannah’s.

He grasped the paper and turned about, all set to return it to her, until he scanned the sheet a bit more closely.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the blustery wind, or the bits of ice it tossed about, raced across his shoulders. It was a list of men. Of men he knew full well were actively looking for a wife. And his name wasn’t on it.

That should make him happy, yet his shoulders slumped as his gaze bounced between Brett’s house and the list a couple times.

“What are you studying so hard?”

Teddy spun around at the sound of Brett’s voice. Teddy had said he’d stop by on his way back and knew Brett would be watching for him. Stuffing the paper into his pocket, he replied, “Just a list.”

“Of Hannah’s drawings?”

He gestured to his arm load. “Got them all right here.”

“I was just walking over to check on you. You were there quite a while.”

“She offered me a cup of coffee and I accepted.”

With black hair and shoulders as broad as the back end of a horse, Brett towered over most men in town. His size didn’t intimidate Teddy, but he did respect Brett, and valued their friendship.

As Brett glanced toward his house again, Teddy said, “I’ve already spoken to Abigail. She won’t request so many etchings all at one time again. I hadn’t realized it was so many.”

“Make sure she doesn’t,” Brett said. “Hannah’s time is getting closer and she needs her rest.”

“When did you become a doctor?”

Brett grinned. “I’m not, but I should be with half the women in town asking about Hannah and giving me advice about what she needs to do, including my own wife.” Brett’s face turned serious. “Hannah’s become awfully quiet lately, like she was when she first arrived. I’m worried about her, Teddy. Real worried.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Do you think she’s ill?”

“Fiona says she’s not. But she’s back to barely eating enough to keep a bird alive.”

Recalling something Hannah had said, Teddy suggested, “Maybe she’s homesick. She mentioned thinking about the holidays back home.”

“That could be it,” Brett said, turning about.

Teddy fell into step beside his friend. Brett’s blacksmith shop as well as the feed store he owned was on the edge of town and only a short distance from his house.

Most of the blacksmithing took place in the lean-to, and as they skirted the far wall, Teddy let out a whistle. “That wind is brutal today.” Thankful to be out of the biting wind he moved closer to the blazing fire in the open forge in the center of the open area.

“Yeah, it is,” Brett replied. “Homesick, huh?”

Teddy nodded. “The first few holidays after our parents died were hard for me and Abigail.”

“That’s why Fiona suggested inviting you to Thanksgiving,” Brett said as he rubbed his chin. “She thought the company would do Hannah good. I’ll talk to her about inviting others.”

Teddy’s first instinct had been to say no when Brett had invited him to Thanksgiving, but out of respect, he’d said yes. Now his concern was for Hannah. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “Too many would just be more work for her and Fiona.”

“That’s true,” Brett said.

“And don’t forget the recital at the school that afternoon. There will be a lot of people there.”

“It would be impossible to forget about that,” Brett said, grinning. “Rhett and Wyatt have been practicing their lines so often I know Lincoln’s proclamation by heart.”

Teddy laughed. Brett had taken to Fiona’s two boys as soon as they’d hit town, and treated them as if they were his own. Teddy turned to stare into the flames of the fire. He’d been willing to do that once. Love a child that wasn’t his. It hadn’t come to be, though. A week before the wedding, the real father had shown up. He’d stepped back, told Becky he understood and buried the pain of rejection.

To others Becky may only have been a barmaid who’d gotten herself into the family way, but she’d been more than that to him. He’d fallen in love with her, and when she’d first said she was going to have a baby, he’d thought he was the father. She’d insisted he wasn’t. That it was a cowboy who had visited her regularly, but hadn’t come back since she told him about the baby. Without any contemplation, he’d told her not to worry, that he’d marry her and claim the baby as his own, and had set plans in place to do just that.

Shaking aside ghosts of the past, Teddy moved away from the forge. “I better get these over to the office,” he said.

“Thanks, Teddy,” Brett said. “You’ve been a good friend, and helped Hannah out by letting her make those etchings.”

“She’s very good at it,” he answered honestly.

Brett nodded. “She is, but...”

The hair on the back of his neck tingled. “But what?”

Brett seemed to shrink a bit as he shook his head slowly. “Hannah’s been through some rough times.”

“Well, she seems to have handled it well,” Teddy replied. “Maybe she’s stronger than she looks.”

Brett shook his head with more purpose this time. “You haven’t heard her crying herself to sleep at night.”

Teddy had no answer for that, and the paper in his pocket suddenly felt as hot as the flames of Brett’s forge.