She hadn’t yet decided how she would pay the woman’s wages, but she would cross that bridge later. Hannah was almost certain the maid would have been paid in full before she left Boston, so that left Hannah almost a month before she had to worry about it. And they had made complex enough arrangements for her travel that Hannah had a reasonable degree of certainty that Uncle Jason wouldn’t be able to follow her, even if he had been having the house watched for just such an occurrence. It was still a concern though, but one she would have to try not to dwell on.
Hannah had finally figured out a way to communicate with her lawyer and her household back in Boston. One that still left her feeling reasonably protected. Just before school had started, she had taken a day and travelled by train two stops east. Hannah had explained to the children that they would be able to find their purchases more easily here since it was a bigger town than the station closest to them. She needn’t have bothered. The children were just excited by the adventure of the excursion.
While they were there, she had found a lawyer’s office. He had seemed pleasant and respectable and had assured Hannah that he would hold her affairs in the strictest of confidence. It had been arranged that he would receive her correspondence for her and then send it on to her real address at regular intervals. When he had laughingly told her she could have hired a secretary for a cheaper fee, Hannah dismissed his notion by reminding him: “In my experience, secretaries don’t know how to keep a secret.”
He had then reassured her that he would keep whatever confidences she wished to share with him.
She had already kept the children waiting so she cut the meeting short. “My address is the biggest secret I have. I expect you to guard it with your life.” She ignored the confused glance he cast her and returned to the sunshine where the children were just finishing the treats she had bought them before she went in to speak with the lawyer.
Chapter Eleven
As he worked, Ransom allowed the words of a few of Hannah’s recent letters to tumble around in his head. Some were light hearted and brought a smile to his face. Others were decidedly heavy.
We have finally met some of the neighbors. We stuck to the house for the first several days. Everything takes me so very long to do that I haven’t had a moment to spare. Thankfully, the children have been enjoying the novelty of country life so they haven’t complained that I don’t have time to entertain them. But then they realized they hadn’t seen anyone except each other for days and had had enough. So Scott readied the wagon for us and we went into the village.
I was surprised at the number of people we found walking the short street. I would have thought with that many people someone would have stopped by our place. But then again, I haven’t gone to meet anyone either, so I probably shouldn’t judge. Besides, just because people in Boston act a certain way, doesn’t mean that’s the only acceptable way to act, right? I do think, though, that I will try to raise Maryanne and Francine with the Eastern ways, even if that isn’t the way here. There’s really no harm in baking a pie and going to meet the neighbors, is there?
Ransom had found her thought processes amusing. He was glad she was finally getting settled, but he was surprised to hear the neighbors hadn’t reached out to her. Maybe they hadn’t realized his wife had arrived. But Ransom was fairly certain there was nothing that got past some of the older couples in the village. For the most part, everyone minded their own business, and for that he had been grateful. It was too bad, though, that the thing he had so enjoyed had turned out to be a disappointment for Hannah.
He appreciated her way of handling her disappointment. He was beginning to realize he appreciated everything he was learning about her. She was a delight. And he couldn’t wait to get home to her. His feelings for her had gone way past appreciation over the past months. With each letter they exchanged his heart beat harder. Just the sight of her tidy script made his heart race. With a grin, he wondered if he would faint when he finally clapped eyes on her next.
I finally have a reason to be glad you taught me to shoot. Well, glad is too strong a word. Relieved might be more appropriate. In the last three days I have been forced to use this dubious skill twice. The first time, I actually loaded and shot the weapon. A fox was trying to get into the henhouse. Scott assures me the fright I gave it will prevent its return. I do hope he’s right in his assessment. But the second experience is the sort I think you were worried about when you insisted I learn to shoot. A drunk man showed up on our porch and didn’t seem to be up to any good. I didn’t load the gun, but he didn’t know that. It was sufficiently effective. He hasn’t returned. I now understand why there are no single women in town. While I would like to think I’m capable of handling such situations, I don’t really want to. Do you think your work in Oregon will be concluded soon?
When Ransom had read those words his heart had lodged itself in his throat and he had almost vomited. She was right, it was exactly the sort of situation he had feared and not wanted to leave her unprepared for. She was also right in that he should be finished in Oregon. His place needed to be there in Nebraska, protecting his family. Even if he never returned to Oregon, truly, he had enough money to last a lifetime. He had to let his poverty-stricken past go and accept that fortune had finally smiled upon him. He was rich beyond anything he had ever imagined in a monetary fashion but beyond that, he had a beautiful wife and three youngsters who needed him. The family he never knew he had always wanted. And maybe, if he were lucky enough to receive his wife’s forgiveness, maybe they’d even add to the family eventually.
***
Ransom stepped down from the train and took a deep breath. It was surprising to him how much different the air smelled in Nebraska than in Oregon. He wondered if it was the different trees. Or maybe it was all in his head because he felt so differently about each place. But now even his feelings about Nebraska had changed, but the smell had remained the same so it couldn’t be that.
He should have sent a telegram informing the family of his return. But he had decided so suddenly that he thought he might as well just turn up. Would they be happy to see him? He knew Hannah professed to want him around, but would she feel the same way in reality? Maybe she really just wanted another adult to talk to and to share the worries with.
Shaking his momentary uncertainties from his mind, Ransom strode around to the front of the station, looking for the smithy to see if he could hire a horse to ride home. He would send Scott to lead it back as quickly as possible. It was too bad he didn’t know anyone who could just lend him a horse, but Ransom didn’t want to waste time trying to figure it out.
The air was colder than he had thought it would be here. His fingers had been nearly freezing around the handle of his ax in Oregon before he had finally realized he needed to board things up and come home. He was satisfied with the progress he had made, though, and didn’t regret the timing. He only hoped the family would be happy to see him.
Scott would be glad, he was sure. The man had actually written to him twice over the months he’d been away. Ransom smiled to think of the most recent message he had received.
Ransom,
You’re being a fool to leave your family so long. Get back here and look after them before your wife fades away to a skeleton.
Scott
The man certainly didn’t waste any words. He shouldn’t have bothered with postage for such a short note. He could have put it into the envelope with Hannah’s letters. But then again, Scott probably hadn’t wanted Hannah to know he thought she was looking skeletal.
Ransom wondered for the thirtieth time what Scott had meant by that. Was Hannah not eating? Or not sleeping? Or working too hard? Or was Scott just trying to guilt him into returning? None of those options seemed likely. From what he could tell from her letters, Hannah was a sensible girl and wouldn’t be so foolish as to not eat, especially not from her misguided need to save her funds. Or rather he hoped not. That thought was what had finally moved him to board up his
claim and get on the train. It was still a few weeks before full winter would have set into Oregon, but Ransom hadn’t been able to bear his own thoughts any longer. He would never have forgiven himself if those children were all abandoned once more because the foolish woman left in charge of them couldn’t be bothered to spend her money.
Surely that couldn’t be it, though. Even if she didn’t spend a single penny, there were eggs, chicken, and beef right there on the farm besides the vegetables her brother was growing. No, it had to be something else. And really, whether it was just a ploy or not, it was time for him to return and take up the responsibilities he hadn’t realized he had committed to when he had married that girl. Even if she wasn’t the bride he had been expecting, she was the bride he got, and he ought to be doing a better job of looking out for her.
By now his wandering thoughts had accompanied him all the way home. Ransom was pleased to see that everything looked well cared for. There was a curl of smoke drifting from the chimney, which told him it would be warm and cozy inside. Or maybe she was cooking something. Either way, he’d be able to warm his hands and sit comfortably for a few minutes once he had arranged for Scott to return the horse.
He jumped off the horse and stepped through the open door of the barn only to confront the sight of his wife with her head bowed over the gate of one of the stalls and his foreman with his hand on her shoulder.
“What’s going on here?” Ransom asked, hearing the suspicion ringing in his voice.
Hannah gasped, her tear-stained face rising quickly. Scott’s hand fell away from her shoulder as she turned and threw herself at Ransom. He hadn’t expected such a reaction, but Ransom did not hesitate in opening his arms wide and allowing her to nestle into his chest. She began to sob in earnest. It was not at all the situation he had been expecting to find.
Scott’s expression was inscrutable. “Welcome home, boss. It’s about time.” His tone was grudging.
Ransom couldn’t tell what the other man was thinking. He wasn’t sure what he had walked into, but he did know he had his arms full of a weeping woman and he didn’t know what to make of that. And to say that his arms were full was an exaggeration. Scott hadn’t been lying when he said Hannah was fading away. Ransom was at a bit of a loss. But he did know that he didn’t want an audience.
“I rented this horse from the smithy in town. Could you please take her back for me?”
“Sure thing, boss.” Ransom could hear the sarcasm dripping from his hired hand’s voice, but he didn’t bother addressing it. Scott’s issues could wait. Hannah’s didn’t seem like they could.
Hannah’s tears were slowing and were almost dried up by the time Scott had saddled up another horse and had ridden away, leading the rented animal. Ransom suspected that she was now mortified and didn’t want to raise her head. He could hear her quietly sniffing but she didn’t seem to be actually crying anymore. He tightened his arms slightly before loosening them and then leaning away from her.
“Hello there,” he said with as gentle a smile as he could muster.
Her cheeks were stained pink, confirming her embarrassment, but she returned his smile although hers was slight.
“I didn’t expect to see you before there was snow piled everywhere, if then.”
“What do you mean by the ‘if then’?” Ransom frowned.
Hannah sighed. Ransom hadn’t completely let her go so she wasn’t able to step away from him, although it was obvious that was her intent.
“To be honest, I was beginning to feel like you were a figment of my imagination. That you were just someone I had made up in my mind and the letters you wrote were somehow manifestations of my mind’s stresses. I have begun to think you’re too good to be true. And I was wishing so hard for your return, I fear I’ve conjured you.”
Ransom felt his eyebrows inching toward his hairline.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you just said.” He tried to speak gently. He didn’t want to imply to her that he thought she was losing her mind, but how could she think he was imaginary?
Hannah’s laugh was weak and a little watery, but he was relieved that she had retained her humor. “I don’t really know what I mean, either, but I really enjoyed receiving your letters. And I’ve been wishing you would come back for a couple months already, so I was starting to feel like it would never happen. You never mentioned returning in your letters. And you certainly didn’t give me any notification that it would be today.”
As she spoke, her voice became firmer. By the end, she sounded almost cross with him. It was a relief to Ransom that she seemed to have regained her well-being, but he still wanted to know what had been taking place between her and his foreman when he had arrived.
“So, do you care to tell me why you were so upset when I first got here? And why Scott had his hand on you?”
Hannah laughed again, finally stepping back completely from him, wiping away the last remnants of her tears as she did so. Ransom allowed her to leave his arms but he felt bereft as she did so.
“Poor Scott. He must have been so thrilled to see you step through that door. He has even less idea what to do with tears than you do, it would seem. Even if the girls cry, he makes them hold it in until I get there. Which is pretty funny considering the only time they do cry is if they’ve hurt themselves, so it should be pretty easy to deal with. They’re lovely and uncomplicated, unlike me.”
Ransom was no closer to finding out what was going on but he was happy to hear from her tone that he didn’t think she had any exceptionally warm feelings toward his hired hand.
“I think you’re lovely even if you are more complicated than a ten-year-old.”
Hannah blushed and laughed again. “Well that’s sweet of you, even if it’s a complete lie.” She put her hand to her tousled hair and tried to brush the stray locks back from her face. “I can just imagine what a disaster I must look. In my moments of imagining your homecoming, I am always dressed in my finest, without a single thing out of place on my person or in the house. I must say, it is very bad of you to surprise us like this.”
Ransom wasn’t sure if she were deliberately changing the subject or if it were merely her subconscious refusing to admit to the weakness of tears. He wondered if he ought to let it go or pry into her reasons.
“Isn’t this better, though? Now you don’t have to fret about anything for days in advance.”
“But I wanted it all to be perfect for you.”
Ransom’s stomach clenched. Her tone indicated there was something more afoot underneath her words. Even though he had isolated himself, or maybe because of it, he found he was able to read people’s body language fairly accurately. It was apparent there was more she wasn’t telling him.
“Why was perfection so very important to you?” He kept his voice low and calm, hoping she would confide in him. It might have been a foolish wish considering they had only seen each other for one day months ago, but he felt as though he knew her from her letters, and he rather suspected she felt the same way, too, evidenced by the fact that her first reaction to his arrival had been to throw herself into his arms.
She huffed a sigh. “I was hoping that if we could have everything perfect at home, you wouldn’t leave again.”
Ransom pulled her into his arms, ignoring the momentary resistance she put up. “I didn’t come home to see a fancy dress or a tidy house. I came home to see my family.”
“But is it?”
“Is what it?”
“Is this home?”
Again Ransom’s stomach clenched. He now thought he understood what she was asking. She was looking for reassurance that he wouldn’t leave again. He didn’t know if he could give it.
“Of course, it’s home.” His answer was the truth; he just wasn’t going to promise her that he wouldn’t leave home.
“Are you home to stay?” Her hopeful tone made him ache to answer in the affirmative, but he chose to make a joke rather than tell her a half-truth.
; “You’ll soon be looking to get me out of the house.”
As he had realized, she wasn’t dim witted. Her gaze searched his face, and he could see her assessing him. Her expression cooled.
“You could very well be correct,” she answered with a slight smile. She stepped even further back from him. “I apologize for welcoming you with a crying jag. Those weren’t even tears of joy at the prodigal’s return.”
Ransom grinned. Even though he knew she was distancing herself from him, he couldn’t help but enjoy her humor. Then the full import of her words sunk in and he sobered.
“I got distracted, but what exactly was going on when I arrived? Why were you so distraught?”
“Because I’m overworked and worn out and was abandoned by my husband. Is that not sufficient reason?”
Ransom grimaced. “It seems to me you’ve been overworked since you arrived and your husband abandoned you long ago. Your letters didn’t carry the tone of a woman who gives in to her tears often. Or did you just hide it really well in your letters?”
Ransom was realizing that he might not have gotten to know her as well as he had thought.
“No, you’re right. I try not to cry very often. It’s exhausting and not overly helpful. But every once in a while it is the exact release that is needed.” She paused, walking toward the door of the barn, waiting for him to follow. “The thing is, I’m still grieving for my family. My parents died and my life fell apart. Well, the life that I knew. I don’t mind this new one, but it has been an exhausting adjustment. I worry about the children, but it seems that they have taken it more in stride than I have. And now, I’ve just received word that my uncle is searching in earnest for us.”
Ransom’s steps faltered. Her tone alerted him. She was trying so very hard to keep it all to herself and only reveal the minimal facts, but he knew there were underlying issues that were going to get murky. He should have come back sooner.
“I know you’ve mentioned periodically the need to stay away from your uncle, that getting away from him was your reason for marrying me and leaving Boston. I didn’t want to question you over it in a letter, as it seemed sufficiently serious that you wouldn’t want to write about it.”
A Bride for Ransom Page 12