Читать книгу The Borrowed Bride - Elizabeth Lane - Страница 10

“Go on, Hannah. You and Judd can talk on the porch.” Mary Gustavson prodded her daughter with the end of the hairbrush. Hannah came forward as if she were being dragged by invisible chains. Her blue eyes were wide and frightened. How much had her mother told her? Judd wondered. Did she know what he’d come for?

Maybe he was making a ghastly mistake.

Judd felt his mouth go dry as he watched her. He’d always thought of Quint’s girl as pretty, in a wholesome, apple-cheeked sort of way. But he’d never seen her like this, with lamplight falling on her glorious hair, framing her face in a halo of gold. Even in her faded gingham dress, Hannah was beautiful.

Lord, what was he thinking? Even poor and pregnant, this girl could have suitors fighting to marry her. Why should she accept a man like him, even to give her child the Seavers name?

“Good evening, Judd.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

Judd swallowed the knot in his throat. “Let’s go outside, Hannah,” he murmured, offering his arm.

She hesitated, then laid her hand on his sleeve. Her touch was as weightless as dandelion fluff, but he could feel the warmth of her flesh through the thin fabric. The contact sent an unexpected—and unwelcome—jab of heat to his loins. Judd swore silently. This was going to be awkward as hell.

They crossed the moonlit porch. As they reached the steps, she cleared her throat and spoke.

“What is it, Judd? Has something happened to Quint? Is that what you’ve come to tell me?”

“No.” He shook his head, thinking how much his arrival must have worried her. “Nothing’s happened. Not that we know of, at least. We haven’t heard from Quint since he left.”

“Neither have I.” She moved down the steps and into the yard. Her mother had suggested they talk on the porch, but Hannah appeared too restless to settle in one spot. Judd was restless, too.

“Do you think he’s all right?” she asked.

“We have to hope he is. Alaska’s a big, wild place. If Quint’s out in the goldfields, there’d be no way for him to mail a letter, or to get one.”

“I’ve written to him every week.” Her voice quivered as if she were on the verge of tears.

“So has our mother. And I’ve written a few times myself. He’ll have a heap of letters waiting for him when he gets back to Skagway.”

They walked a few steps in silence, wandering out toward the corral where the two poor-looking cows drowsed under the eave of the milk shed. Hannah had taken her hand away from his sleeve. She walked with her arms clasped around her ribs, as if protecting herself.

“You said you wanted to talk to me, Judd.”

“Yes.” Lord, this would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. “I want to make you an offer, Hannah. You may not think much of it, but hear me out.”

She turned to face him. “I’m listening. Just tell me.”

“All right.” Judd sucked in his breath, forcing himself to meet her questioning gaze. “Your mother paid us a visit today. She told us about your baby.”

Hannah reeled as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She caught the corral fence with one hand, feeling slightly ill. She’d wanted to keep the baby a secret for as long as possible. But her mother had shared that secret with the last two people she’d have chosen to tell.

“You don’t have to convince me the baby’s Quint’s,” Judd said. “Seeing the two of you together for so long, I’ve no doubt of that. The question is, what do we do now?”

“We?” Hannah gulped. “Since when did this become your problem, Judd?”

“Since I found out you were carrying my brother’s child—my own flesh and blood.”

Oh, blast, he was going to make her cry. Hannah steeled her emotions. “I’ve written to Quint about the baby,” she said. “I’ve written again and again. Surely, once he gets word, he’ll catch the next boat home.”

“But when will he get word? And how soon will he be able to get back? If he’s still in the Klondike when winter comes, he might not make it out till spring.”

Hannah’s heart sank. “The baby could be born before Quint comes home.”

“Without a proper father and without a legal name.”

A nighthawk swooped through the darkness, moonlight flashing on its white-barred wings. The horse Judd had tied to the fence shifted in the darkness. Hannah gazed up at Quint’s taciturn brother, a man ten years her senior. She’d known him all her life, yet scarcely knew him at all. Surely he hadn’t meant what had just popped into her head.

No, of course not.

“I’m offering to marry you, Hannah,” Judd was talking fast now, pouring out more words than Hannah had ever heard from him at one time. “It wouldn’t be a real marriage, of course. Not in the physical sense. But it would be legal. It would give your child the Seavers name and the right to inherit Quint’s share of the estate one day. And it would hush up the gossip that’s bound to start before long.

“Not entirely. People can count.” Hannah responded from a well of stunned silence.

“They can and they will. But you’d be a Seavers. A married woman. And you’d have me to defend your honor.”

A married woman.

Judd’s wife.

Hannah’s legs had gone rubbery. She gripped the fence rail for support. The last thing she’d expected from tonight’s visit was a proposal.

Judd was waiting, studying her face with fathomless eyes. What had prompted him to make such an outlandish offer? Had her mother begged him to rescue her daughter from shame?

Had he really thought this out?

With effort she found her voice. “What about Quint? What’s to happen when he comes home?”

“I’ve thought it all out. Our family lawyer can draw up divorce papers before the wedding. When Quint comes home, we can sign them, and you’ll be free to marry the father of your child.”

Hannah stared at the ground, where the moonlight had joined their shadows. The next question lay unspoken between them, cold and dark and too dreadful for words. Hannah forced herself to give it voice.

“And if Quint doesn’t come back? What then?”

“That would be up to you. Anytime you wanted your freedom, we could sign the papers and be done with it. Your child would still be a Seavers with the right of inheritance.” Judd exhaled raggedly. “But there’s no need to dwell on that now. Unless we hear differently, we have to assume that Quint’s fine, and that he’ll be coming home.”

“Yes, of course we do.” The night was warm, but Hannah felt a shiver pass through her body. She turned away from Judd and fixed her eyes on the North Star. She often looked that way when she wanted to feel close to Quint. Where was he now? she wondered. Was he gazing at the night sky, just as she was—maybe thinking of her while she entertained a marriage proposal from his brother?

Would marrying Judd be an act of betrayal or an act of sacrifice, for the sake of Quint’s child?

Was she actually thinking of saying yes?

“I can promise you’d be taken care of the way Quint would want,” Judd said. “You’d have your own bedroom and anything you needed in the way of clothes, things for the baby and even gifts for your family. Gretel does the cooking and housework and cares for my mother. That wouldn’t change.”

Hannah’s fingers wadded the fabric of her skirt as his words sank in. The Gustavsons had always been poor, but they’d been happy enough. She’d never minded hard work, nor had she wasted time yearning for finery. The idea of having a servant was as foreign to her as living on the moon. As for the rest…

Something shrank inside Hannah as she imagined passing her days in that silent, gloomy house with the waspish Edna Seavers and her huge, grim mastiff of a housekeeper. She’d assumed that when she and Quint married, they would build a home of their own. But for the sham marriage Judd was proposing, that wouldn’t be practical. And she could hardly stay with her own family—not if she wanted her child to be accepted as a Seavers.

Behind her, Judd waited in silence. Maybe he thought she’d jump at the chance to have a comfortable life, to live in an elegant ranch house, wear store-bought clothes and sit down to meals she didn’t have to prepare. Well, he was wrong. In that great mausoleum of a home she would feel more like a prisoner than a cherished, useful member of the family.

Exasperated, she swung back to face him. “Who came up with this crazy idea, Judd? Did my mother talk you into saving my honor?”

He shook his head. “Nobody talked me into anything. And my reason for coming here tonight has little to do with your honor—or with you as a woman.”

So much for pretty words. Hannah scuffed at a stone, her silence pressing him to continue.

“If Quint doesn’t make it home, that baby you’re carrying will be all we have left of him—and most likely the only grandchild my mother will ever have. I’m looking out for the next generation of our family.”

“But what about you, Judd? Surely you’ll want to find a good woman and start a family of your own before long.”

He looked away from her, his eyes fixed on the jagged silhouette of the mountains. A falling star streaked through the darkness and vanished. “I’m not a fit husband for any woman,” he said. “Chances are I never will be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There’s no need for you to understand. If you become my wife, we’ll keep a proper distance like polite friends. My personal demons will be my concern, not yours.”

“I see,” Hannah murmured, though she really didn’t. She was just beginning to realize how little she knew about Judd Seavers.

He exhaled slowly, like a man who’d just set down a heavy weight. “I’m not expecting your answer tonight,” he said. “Take time to think about what I’ve said. Either way, I don’t want to rush you.”

“Thank you.” Hannah moved away from the fence. Thinking too long about Judd’s offer would only make her decision harder. It would be just as well to make up her mind and be done with it. “Come back in the morning,” she said. “I’ll give you my answer then.”

“I’ll come tomorrow night.” He loosed the reins from around the fence rail and eased onto his tall black gelding. The grimace that flashed across his face told Hannah that the war wounds still pained him. “I want to do right by you and my brother and the child. But I won’t push your decision. You need enough time to be sure.”

For the space of a heartbeat he gazed down at her upturned face. Then, without giving her a chance to say more, he swung toward the gate and nudged the horse to a canter.

Hannah stood watching the dark forms of horse and rider blend into night. Only then did she allow her legs to betray her. Like a wounded animal, she sank to the ground. Her fingers splayed over her face. Her body quivered with unspent sobs.

This couldn’t be happening. She was still coming to terms with having a baby, still clinging to the hope that Quint would come home and marry her. Judd’s offer had come from nowhere, slamming her with the force of a lightning bolt and leaving her in a state of shock.

Judd meant well, Hannah reminded herself. His plan was well thought out, covering all possibilities. If Quint came back, she could divorce Judd and marry her true love. If the worst happened, and Quint didn’t return, the child conceived in that impulsive moment would never know the stigma of bastardy. He or she would have the Seavers name, access to a good education and a share of the finest ranch in the county.

On one hand, how could she even think of saying no?

On the other hand, how could she find the courage to say yes?

Judd Seavers was like a black pool with unknown pitfalls lurking beneath its quiet surface. He’d mentioned his personal demons. What did he mean? Could he be an alcoholic, or even an opium addict? Was he capable of harming her or her child? Surely not—but how could she be certain?

And the women in that big, silent house! Edna Seavers had never shown her anything but contempt. And Hannah had been terrified of Gretel Schmidt since she was five years old. Unless she wanted to spend her time in hiding, she would have to confront both of them. The very thought of it made her knees go watery.

The front door opened, flooding the yard with lamplight. “Hannah?” Her mother’s questioning voice rose above the drone of frogs and crickets. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Mama, I’m fine.” Hannah rose and stepped into the light. “Judd’s gone. He left a few minutes ago.”

“Well?” Mary Gustavson stood on the porch, one hand holding the lantern, the other fisted on her ample hip. She would know, of course, that Judd had come to propose. The fact that he hadn’t come back inside to speak with Soren didn’t bode for good news.

“Judd’s coming for my answer tomorrow night. I can’t believe you told him about the baby, Mama—and told his mother! Mrs. Seavers must hate me!”

“I did what I had to, Hannah. There’s been a wrong done. For the sake of your innocent babe, it’s got to be put right.”

Hannah sagged against the porch rail, feeling like a child called on the carpet. “I’ve written to Quint,” she protested feebly. “Surely, when he gets word, he’ll come home.”

Mary sighed wearily. “Unless those letters are opened and read, you might as well be dropping them down a well. Face up to it, girl. You haven’t received so much as a note from the boy. You can’t depend on him to come back and marry you.”

“But Judd—I barely know him, Mama. And he’s nothing like Quint. I might as well be marrying a stranger.”

“He’s a Seavers and he’s willing. For now that’s got to be enough. Count your blessings and say yes before he changes his mind. Otherwise there’s no help for you—or for us.”

Fighting tears, Hannah brushed past her and entered the house. Soren was awake, sitting up in his chair with a worried frown on his face. Annie hovered behind him, wide-eyed and anxious. Hannah’s eyes took in the shabby room, the bare puncheon floor and smoke-blackened rafters, the cracked, mismatched dishes stacked on the rickety counter. She forced herself to see Annie’s threadbare hand-me-down dress and the tired shadows under her father’s eyes. She thought of her younger brothers and sisters asleep upstairs, the younger ones laid like firewood in a single bed, the older ones on the floor.

Otherwise there’s no help for you—or for us…

Her mother’s words echoed in Hannah’s mind as she forced herself to face reality. The Gustavsons were dirtpoor. Marriage into the Seavers family would give her the means to better their lot—Judd had implied as much himself. Refusing his offer would be foolish. Worse, it would be selfish.

Hannah had no desire to become Mrs. Judd Seavers. But her own feelings were of no importance. The chance to give her family and her child a better life outweighed all other considerations.

She had no choice except to say yes.

Judd lay awake in the four-poster bed his parents had once shared. The night breeze stirred the gauzy curtains at the tall window. The moon cast a ghostly rectangle of light on the far wall.

Had he done the right thing, asking Hannah to marry him? Lord, she’d looked so forlorn, so frightened, as if he were some kind of monster. What had he been thinking?

Punching the flatness from his pillow, he rolled onto his side and stretched his long legs. Maybe he should ride back to the Gustavson house tomorrow morning and tell her he’d changed his mind. That would take the pressure off the poor girl. She could wait for Quint without the awful prospect of marriage to a physically and mentally scarred man looming over her.

He wouldn’t have to abandon her entirely. He could offer money to help with the child, maybe even hire her father and a couple of the older boys to help out on the ranch. The Gustavsons were honest and hardworking. He could do worse.

The sight of Hannah’s face, with its deep blue eyes and spun-gold halo of hair, lingered in his memory. How could Quint go gallivanting off to Alaska and leave a girl like that? How could any man be fool enough to leave her?

Muttering under his breath, he twisted onto his belly and willed himself to sleep. Things would be all right either way, he reminded himself. If Hannah refused him, he could go his way, knowing he’d at least tried to do the right thing. If she accepted—a quiver passed through his body at the thought of it—he would treat her with kindness and respect, keeping a proper distance between them at all times.

And he would redouble his efforts to find Quint. After hearing the news about their mother’s health, he’d hired a detective agency in Denver to look into Quint’s whereabouts. With Hannah’s pregnancy, the search had become even more urgent. The young fool needed to come home and face up to his responsibilities as a father.

If he was still alive…

Judd could feel himself sinking into a dark fog. It swirled around him, pulling him down like quicksand. From out of the murk came the sharp report of rifle fire and the deep-throated boom of exploding mortar shells. He was charging up the muddy hill, boots sliding, lungs bursting as men fell around him—the men he’d trained with, learned to respect, even love. Blood, flesh and brains spattered his face as the young lieutenant ahead of him disintegrated in a blast of gunfire. With no time to wipe himself clean, Judd clenched his teeth and kept moving forward. When he could see a target he fired. When he ran out of bullets he hacked a path with his bayonet.

On his right was his boyhood friend, Daniel Sims. They’d signed up together and gone through training side by side. Judd was struggling to stay on his feet when he saw Daniel go down, clutching his body at the waist. Blood poured between his fingers. He was gut shot, a guarantee of a slow and miserable death.

“Kill me, Judd…” Daniel’s boyish features twisted in agony. “I’m done for. Get it over with, for the love of God…”

Judd’s service revolver was still in its holster. Judd drew the gun.

“Do it, friend.” Daniel’s face was a mask of agony. Blood trickled from one corner of his mouth. “I’ll bless you with my dying breath…”

Judd thumbed back the hammer. His blood-slicked finger tightened on the trigger. He gazed down into his friend’s face through a haze of smoke. But now it wasn’t Daniel he saw. It was…Quint.

No!

Judd awoke with a scream of anguish. The sheets had tangled around his jerking body. They were drenched in cold sweat.

Hannah spent the morning helping her mother do the family wash. It was hot, steamy work, made worse by her queasy stomach. First the buckets of water had to be carried from the pump to the big copper wash boiler. Then, with a fire blazing beneath the iron stand, whittled curls of homemade lye soap were tossed into the simmering water. Once the soap dissolved, the clothes and dirty bed linens were added. It was Hannah’s job to stir them with a broomstick until the water cooled enough to use the washboard.

To ease the strain on their hands and bodies, Hannah and her mother took turns. While one hunched over the board, scrubbing the garments and tossing them into the rinse water, the other twisted each piece, shook it out and hung it on the clothesline. The process took all morning.

Hannah ached with the weariness of a night spent tossing and turning, but she knew better than to complain or to plead her condition. Her mother had done laundry up to the last hours of her pregnancies. The same would be expected of her.

While they scrubbed and rinsed, Annie took charge of the kitchen and the small children. After Hannah married Judd Seavers, Annie would likely be promoted to laundry duty while thirteen-year-old Emma took on the child-minding. The boys would help Soren in the fields until they were old enough to take over the farm or leave to find menial jobs that paid a paltry wage. As things stood, none of them would go to school beyond the eighth grade or do any kind of work that didn’t involve their hands and backs. It was a hard lot, but it was theirs and they seemed to accept it.

Somehow, Hannah resolved, she would find a way to make their lives better.

With the laundry finished, there was still plenty to be done. Hannah found a rusty hoe and went out to help eleven-year-old Peter finish weeding the vegetable patch. Today she was grateful for the work and for Peter’s childish chatter. It helped to keep her mind off Judd’s impending visit.

What if he didn’t come?

What if he’d changed his mind?

She wouldn’t blame him if he backed out. After all, she hadn’t given him any encouragement. Judd knew, of course, that she didn’t love him. Truth be told, she wasn’t even sure she liked him. But that didn’t matter, Hannah reminded herself. This was a legal arrangement, to protect her baby’s rights until Quint returned. She and Judd would be living together like two polite strangers in a boardinghouse, with his mother and the formidable Gretel as chaperones.

A nunnery couldn’t be safer.

She was yanking the last tangle of wild morning glory from among the string beans when she glanced up to see a tall rider approaching the gate. Even silhouetted as he was, against the blaze of the setting sun, there was no mistaking Judd. Hannah’s emotions fluttered between dismay and relief. He’d come early, giving her no time to clean up. Her hair was plastered to her head beneath her mother’s ugly sunbonnet. Her face was smudged with dirt, and her gingham dress felt glued to her body. But why should her appearance matter? It wasn’t as if they were courting. He’d made her a plainspoken offer last night. Now he’d come for his answer.

She could only hope it was the answer he wanted to hear.

Judd eased out of the saddle, opened the sagging gate and led his horse through. It was early yet, barely sundown. The family would still be at evening chores. He should have waited until after dark. But never mind, he wouldn’t be here long. All he needed was a single word from Hannah—yes or no.

Turning, he closed the gate behind the horse. He could see Hannah now, standing in the family garden, clad in the faded gingham she’d worn to see Quint off on the train. A blue sunbonnet dangled by its strings from her left hand. With her right hand, she was hurriedly finger-combing her hair back from her face. The motion strained the fabric of her bodice against one swollen breast.

Judd tore his eyes away from the sight. Hannah might be his future bride, but she was carrying his brother’s child. He’d be well-advised to discipline his gaze.

Hannah had seen him. She hesitated, shading her eyes against the sunset. Then she started down the slope. She was tall like her mother, with a graceful stride that no one else in her family possessed. Just watching her walk toward him was a pleasure.

“Hello,” she greeted him as she came within speaking range. Judd could feel the tension in her voice. Maybe she’d decided to refuse his offer. He had to be prepared for that.

“Let’s walk,” he said, tethering his horse to the pasture fence. “When you’re ready you can tell me what you’ve decided.”

With a silent nod she turned onto the footpath that led along the creek. The tall wheatgrass rustled in the wind. From somewhere beyond the willows, a bobwhite quail piped its plaintive lay-low, lay-low.

Judd waited for Hannah to speak. He’d promised he wouldn’t rush her but it wasn’t easy to keep still. It was as if she held his life in her strong, young hands.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Quint,” she said at last.

Judd exhaled slowly. “You know I’d tell you right off if I had. I went into town and checked the mail myself. There was nothing.”

“But he’s got to be alive, don’t you think? Surely, if the worst happened, somebody would notify his family.”

“One would hope so. I’m already working with an agency in Denver. They’ve got a good reputation for finding people. But anything they can do is going to take time.”

She clasped her work-reddened hands. Her interlaced fingers flexed and twisted. “Meanwhile, there’s not much we can do except wait, is there?”

“You and I can wait. It’s the baby who can’t.”

“I know.” She turned to face him. The setting sun cast her features in soft rose-gold, like a Renaissance painting. “That’s why I’ve decided to accept your offer, Judd. Until Quint comes home, I’d be honored and grateful to be your wife.”