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,
