Читать книгу The Lone Cowboy of River Bend - Lori Connelly - Страница 8

The wind ripped the sheet corner out of Hannah Brook’s hand again. Frustrated, a huff of air passed her lips as she tried to wrestle the linen into submission, but even the aggravating task couldn’t hold her full attention. Worry gnawed at her, causing distraction. Her gaze kept returning to where Alice and the kids had vanished into a clump of scrawny oak trees. Sam Rolfe should arrive by midday and she wanted to be elsewhere before then.

Although the older woman had repeatedly assured Hannah the Rolfes wouldn’t harm her or her daughter, she couldn’t quite believe it. The fiery tone Michael used when he’d spoken of his relations remained one of her most vivid memories of him. The easygoing man became downright grim at the mere mention of his family. He’d been emphatic, warning her to stay away from them, but never really explained why.

Maybe if we’d had more time…

Hannah swallowed a sigh. She should’ve pressed him for answers. On days like today, doubts plagued her. She kept second-guessing herself.

Do the Rolfes have a right to know?

Alice had earned her trust, becoming a valued friend over these past difficult months. She’d confided something few people had ever known to her, the identity of Jemma’s father. The older woman promised never to reveal her secret but she wasn’t shy about voicing her opinion. She dearly loved the family who’d employed her for over two decades and believed they deserved to know. And Hannah’s daughter had the right to know them.

Hannah felt torn. As time ticked down to when Sam was due to come for Alice, she struggled to sort out her feelings on the matter and failed. Her decision, or rather lack of one, gave her a nagging sense of failure. Hiding never solved anything. Yet that was what she was about to do.

Alice pointing out the flaw in her plan hadn’t helped. It wouldn’t take long for the older woman to explain to Sam she wasn’t ready to leave, but given the distance he’d traveled, the man would likely spend the night. With no relatives she could claim and no friends beyond those on Redwing Farm, there was no place she and Jemma could stay longer than a few hours. Running off for a short time when he’d probably still be here when she returned made no sense. She’d lain awake for hours last night, debating to stay or not.

Hannah blew out a breath. Maybe it was good Alice was late returning with the children. Her friend could be right. Sticking around, meeting Sam, and getting a measure of the man might be the wiser choice. Wind whipped her hair across her face. She started to raise a hand to brush it away then paused, a sound catching her attention.

Listening, she stilled. A long moment passed but all Hannah heard was moaning from the house behind her as wind battered old boards. She wiped at her face with an impatient motion, clearing some strands of hair from her eyes before returning to the chore at hand.

While Hannah battled to remove another sheet off the line, she inhaled the slight scent of lavender. Her lips curved as a pleasant memory tumbled through her mind. Michael had stumbled across her mother’s place on another blustery day a little over five years ago. He’d caught her outside, charming her eighteen-year-old self with comments about her sweet-smelling clothing and his smile.

A soft sigh escaped her. Time had dulled the pain of losing him but sometimes a memory still brought the bittersweet echo of a dream lost upon awakening. With effort, Hannah pushed thoughts of Michael aside. She needed to focus on her present circumstances, not on what might have been. A decision had to be made and soon. Life didn’t pause in times of struggle or sorrow. A harsh lesson she knew well.

In her life, Hannah had survived losing a number of people she’d loved: her parents, Michael, and recently Bessie. One day her best friend had been here, smiling, happy, talking about her plans for Redwing Farm, how it was going to be a famous breeding place, then the next day she was gone. How fragile life could be, even for a young, healthy woman, was no longer an abstract notion but an inescapable reality. A worry she had on occasion became a nagging concern after the tragedy. For comforting, Bessie’s boys had their grandmother, Alice, and their father lived. Jemma only had Hannah.

If I die, who would care for my daughter?

The sheet twisted, wrapping around one of her arms. Is it fair to keep Jemma from the Rolfes? Alice could be right. Hannah tugged loose of the linen then threw it into the basket near her feet. But what if Michael knew something she doesn’t? Maybe I-

The scrape of footsteps disrupted her musing. Hannah turned, expecting to see someone familiar and gasped at the sight of the stranger stepping up to her. He was an imposing man, standing some inches taller and being quite broad about the chest and shoulders. In the diffused light on this overcast day, with the wide brim of his hat throwing his face in shadow, his expression was unfathomable. Under the weight of his dark, steady gaze, she hardly dared to breathe. They stood, still and silent, for a moment. Then he reached up and removed his hat.

For an instant, the image of another man superimposed over the one before her. Confusion filled Hannah. She took a half step back, blinking hard. Michael? As soon as her thought formed, the illusion faded. She saw the stranger clearly again, noting any similarities between the two men were superficial at best.

Their physical builds and coloring were much the same but there were obvious differences. Jemma’s father had green eyes that most often reflected inner amusement. This man’s hazel eyes were somber and the left one had a faded scar around it. Michael would have hated a mark on his skin. He’d been almost vain about his appearance, keeping his straight hair neatly trimmed and well combed. The stranger, on the other hand, reminded her of a trapper who’d lived near Ashwood for a time. His dark-brown hair had a thick wave to it, tumbling around his face and over his collar to his shoulders, giving him an untamed, wild look.

Her gaze lowered, traveling over his full-length duster to the battered boots made for work. Michael had fancy footwear, shined for show. As she looked back up, Hannah noted well-worn blue jeans and a practical jacket visible between the open edges of oilskin. Both useful items of clothing Jemma’s father would have never worn. His words, a memory, whispered in her mind.

No matter what, darling, a man has to look successful.

The stranger held out a hand. She stared at it for a moment still mired in noticing differences. Michael’s hands had been soft, clean, and well kept, the hands of a gambler. This man’s skin appeared calloused and travel-dirty, revealing he worked hard and outdoors often.

“Need help?”

Hannah shook her head, not in answer to his question but because she didn’t know what to say.

“You sure?”

“I. uh.” What am I doing? Michael was gone, had been for years. Comparing the men was silly and pointless. Hannah pushed away her memories and focused on the stranger. “Thank you, I’d appreciate it.”

Her tone became a little squeaky as the likely identity of the man popped into her mind. Her heart beat faster. She’d met him once, years ago, and even though he didn’t look like Hannah, remembered this must be Sam Rolfe, showing up early.

Should I tell him? Do I need to? Fear rushed through her veins. Hannah took a deep breath, gathering her composure. Maybe it’s enough that Alice knows. She gave him a polite smile. “You must be Sam.”

“Sorry, no, I’m Nate.” His hand still extended to her, he moved closer. After a brief hesitation, she grasped it. The contact with his rough, cool skin sent an unexpected wave of warmth through her. “My brother couldn’t make it.”

“Oh.” Which brother in particular didn’t matter, the man was a Rolfe. His arrival decided the fate of her plan. If she dashed off now it might well create the very interest in her and her daughter she wanted to avoid. She pulled her hand free, then remembered her manners. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Hannah Brooks.”

Nate smiled. The sweet, slow movement of his lips sent awareness dancing along her nerves. “Miss Brooks.”

The wind gathered strength, buffeting her. Loosened hair stung her eyes and whipped her face. Despite the weather, Hannah stood, rooted to the ground, staring at Nate until he lifted an eyebrow in silent question. Her cheeks burned. With a gesture to the basket beside her, she turned away from him.

They wrestled the sheets into the large wicker container over the next several minutes. When they finished, Nate picked up the laundry, carrying it past his waiting horse and around the side of the house to set it on the porch. Hannah followed him slowly, taking some time to think over her behavior. She joined him near the steps almost a full minute later.

“I apologize for my bad manners, Mr. Rolfe. We don’t get many visitors and you startled me.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, confused.

“That I startled you, Miss Brooks.”

“It’s all right, Mr. Rolfe.”

His expression remained polite but something flickered in his dark eyes as he nodded. “Nate.”

“Very well… Nate.” Something about his name had tugged at her memory. She sifted through the information Alice shared with her about the Rolfes, thinking furiously. “Oh, you must be-”

“Don’t.”

His abrupt change of tone, now rough and bordering on rude, took Hannah by surprise. Confused, she ventured softly, “The oldest brother?”

“I am.” The man rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry.” Dark smudges beneath his eyes painted a picture of exhaustion. “It’s been a long few days.”

“It’s all right.”

Nate acknowledged her words with a shake of his head and a brief smile. An awkward silence fell between them then. Hannah, a quiet, somewhat shy, woman often felt uncomfortable in social situations. Circumstances had led to her having few friends as she grew up and, following Jemma’s birth, her world narrowed even further. Until Alice came, Bessie and her husband, Jed, had been her only friends for a long time.

Words flitted through her mind, considered then dismissed unspoken. Her gaze flickered from him to the yard beyond, then back again repeatedly, praying to see the older woman returning with the children each time. Unfortunately, aside from the man with her, the chickens were the only creatures in sight.

After another endless moment, Hannah stopped trying to come up with something smart and engaging to tell him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s all right, Miss Brooks.” Though his smile had faded, his tone, low, rich, and warm repeated the phrase she’d offered him with quiet sincerity.

“Please call me Hannah.”

“Hannah.”

His voice held a note she couldn’t define but it sparked a response nonetheless. Fire spread over her cheeks again. Silence returned. Hannah shifted her weight from one foot to the other, uncertain of what to do next. With Jed in his current state she might as well be alone and was reluctant to invite anyone into the house.

After several seconds, he prompted, “Would you let Alice know I’m here?”

“I will, as soon as she returns.”

“Where is she?”

“She took the kids fishing.”

“Fishing?”

His obvious puzzlement was understandable. It wasn’t a common activity this time of year but the children needed a break from the oppressive atmosphere at home. Jed had worsened. This week even the hours spent away at school didn’t seem to ease his sons much. Even Jemma, once a sunny child, had been too quiet lately.

“Odd, I know, but the boys were restless. They’re probably pitching rocks into the water instead of casting out line.”

“Wasn’t she expecting me?”

“We didn’t think Sam, well, you, would be here before noon.”

“Sorry.”

“No need. I’m sorry she isn’t here.”

Nate studied her from the other side of the steps, not attempting to move closer. “Should I come back later?”

“No,” Hannah answered, sounding almost breathless. She cleared her throat before continuing in a stronger voice. “You don’t have to leave. It’s just…”

“I’m troubling you.”

“No I… It’s not you.”

“Did Jed go?”

Do something fun with the boys? Hannah stuffed her chilled hands into the pockets of her coat. “No, he did not.”

“He’s home?”

“Yes, he is.” When is he not?

“Would you tell him I’m here?”

“I’d rather not.” With effort, Hannah kept her tone even, masking exasperation. They’d had an exceptionally bad morning with Jed.

“Why?”

“I don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

“He’s… poorly?”

Hannah drew in a deep breath. Something about the way he responded told her Nate knew, or at least suspected, Jed’s affliction. Still, she believed it was best not to say much.

“He’s… having a bad day. When Alice gets back, I’m sure she’ll explain.”

Instead of pressing her further, Nate simply nodded. The only sign of his displeasure was in the slight downturn of his lips, a suggestion of a frown. She almost sagged in relief. Even with Alice, his mother, the changes in her friend’s husband were difficult to discuss. The light-hearted man Jed had been before Bessie’s death existed only in their memories now.

“Would you like to sit while we wait?” Hannah gestured to the pair of rockers on the sagging porch.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Hannah started feeling self-conscious. She looked down at the ground by her feet. Few people shared her enthusiasm to be outside when nature decided to be rowdy. Slowly, she brought her gaze up to meet his.

“Thank you.” His tone reflected a sincere appreciation for her offer. “But I need to take care of my horse.” He waved his hand in the direction of his mount. “Is there room for him?”

“Room?” He thinks the farm is still functioning. The words to explain stuck in her throat. Without talking about Jed, it’d be impossible. “Yes, there is.”

“Would you mind showing us?”

“Us?” Startled, Hannah glanced around, looking for his companion.

Nate nodded toward his horse. “Jack and I.”

“Jack?” In all the years Hannah had known Bessie, she’d heard several strange names given to horses but they usually bordered on fanciful. “You named your horse Jack?”

“Yes.” Nate headed toward the young, reddish-brown horse. “It suits him.”

“I’m sure it does,” she affirmed, more to herself than him.

The wind carried the clean scent of recent rain to her as she waited, reminding Hannah a storm threatened. Why hasn’t she brought the kids home? She turned, looking at the spot where they’d most likely emerge from the tree line along the south field. There was no sign of them. Despite having complete trust in the other woman, worry nagged at her.

“Hannah?”

His voice, soft and deep, drew her attention. “Yes?”

“You all right?”

For a second or two, she thought about sharing her concern, then dismissed the impulse. “I’m fine, but would you excuse me? I’d like to put the sheets inside first.”

“Of course.”

Hannah darted up onto the porch, where she picked up the basket before slipping into the house. She moved quietly inside, tiptoeing across the main room to put the laundry down near the table. Her mission complete, she turned, heading toward the door, then halted midway. This was still Jed’s house. By rights, she should inform him of visitors. After taking in a deep breath to steady her nerves, she changed direction and headed to his room.

In front of the closed door, she stopped, hesitated a few seconds, then knocked. There was no response but Hannah hadn’t really expected one. She turned the knob and opened the door some inches.

“Nate Rolfe is here,” she announced softly, yet loud enough to carry to the occupant.

Hannah waited several seconds, then took Jed’s silence as an answer itself. She bit her lip hard, preventing the release of a heavy sigh of disappointment. Wordlessly, she pulled the door shut, leaving the man alone in the shadow-filled room again.

Her strides were swift as she crossed the room, blinking back tears. By the time Hannah reached the front door, she’d recovered her composure. She exited the house, finding Nate waiting patiently, and hurried down the steps.

“Follow me.” With a polite smile, she paused at his side briefly, then continued on, heading to the barn.

Nate’s long stride brought him even with her in a matter of seconds. Their arms brushed. Startled, she stumbled on a tuft of grass. Her companion reached out, grabbing her arm to steady her.

Hannah pulled free almost immediately. “Thank you.”

“You all right?”

“I’m fine, just fine, thank you.”

Flustered by the unexpected contact, Hannah moved on at an even faster pace. They crossed the yard, scattering chickens as they came upon them. She was vividly aware of him every step of the way, feeling uncomfortable yet intrigued.

Like it’d been with Michael.

The memory of how swiftly she’d fallen for Jemma’s father rose like a specter in her mind. Hannah had given him her heart in a matter of days. But this isn’t the same.

Hannah reasoned away the disturbing thoughts. It had been a troubled day. Circumstances stirred up her emotions. Naturally, doubts and worries were haunting her. That’s why Michael had been on her mind. That’s all it was.

And although she’d just met Nate, Hannah could tell the two men were nothing alike. In fact, she remembered Alice saying the Rolfes had adopted their eldest son. He and Michael didn’t even share blood. It was impossible she felt the same kind of instant attraction.

True, the man was handsome. Hannah glanced sideways. Nate was striking in a much different way than Jemma’s father. His rugged good looks would have an effect on any woman. Besides, she was older and far wiser now. Nothing would happen. She knew better than to repeat history.

At the barn, Nate handed her his reins, then pulled open one of the heavy doors. A headache pulsed to life, pounding behind her eyes while Hannah watched him stare into the building. The sad shape of the interior appeared a hundred times worse to her now than it had this morning. The improvements Bessie dreamed of doing never became reality. She and Alice, with the children’s help, had done the best they could, which wasn’t much. Everything needed time, attention, and money and those were in short supply.

Hannah walked forward, leading the horse. After several steps, she paused to return the reins. The sight of Nate’s grim expression gave her pause. As she stood with him in the shadowy structure, it suddenly occurred to her she had no proof the man was indeed who he claimed to be.

Unease slid through her veins. Why had she made it clear that, essentially, she was on her own? Why hadn’t she insisted Jed come out to greet him? Hannah shifted, putting some space between them. At least if something happened, Jed could hear her scream then rouse himself to help.

No. A sick feeling gathered in her gut as certainty settled over her. He wouldn’t. Jed would ignore her as he had earlier, as he did everyone. Hannah stiffened her spine. She would be okay. Her nerves were likely getting the best of her. The man with her had to be Nate Rolfe, a good person, according to Alice.

“Something wrong?”

Nate moved closer, and even in the low light, there was no mistaking the concern in his eyes. Hannah slowly released the breath she’d held and a calming bit of logic came to mind. He had asked after Jed and Alice. A drifter wouldn’t have known about them. She needed to rein in her imagination. There were enough legitimate concerns to worry about without creating more out of thin air.

“No.”

“You’re pale.”

“I’m fine.” She gestured to his horse, wanting to get his attention off her. “You’re welcome to put Jack in any stall but the one next to Meadowlark and her baby. She is very protective of Tanager and wouldn’t enjoy close company.”

“She isn’t used to other horses?”

The note of surprise in Nate’s observation caught her on the raw. Many people thought her friends were crazy when they’d invested every dime they could borrow into buying this run-down farm and two quality broodmares. They’d worked hard to prove the naysayers wrong, adding horses over time. Meadowlark had once been used to a barn filled with other animals.

Now, the mare and her foal were remnants of a dream. Months of neglect had unraveled those years of hard work. After Bessie died, everything changed.

“She’s gotten used to being alone.” Without giving him a chance to respond, Hannah moved away, heading deeper into the building.