Hannah suddenly moved from the chair and fell at his feet. “Beau, please, don’t make this hurt worse. Please.” She looked up, despairing. Had she won him over?
“I don’t know, Hannah. I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“If you tell Daniel and he comes here, I will tell him the same thing to his face. I will drive him off. That would him hurt worse. I don’t want that, believe me. I don’t think I could take an ugly scene.”
Beau shrugged. “I don’t know if that would hurt him worse. I’m not a husband whose wife has left him. I just don’t know how to think about this, Hannah.” He shook his head. “But what I do know is that you’ve been like a rock to me. Knowing you’re in that farmhouse safely with the man you love, that gives me cause to hope for something better for myself. The world is a miserable place with Hannah Crowe toting laundry in a whorehouse. It isn’t right. It isn’t right.”
“But it’s the way it is, Beau,” she tried again.
He nodded grimly.
There were no more promises to extract from the man, he wasn’t offering any pledges, he wasn’t changing his attitude on anything. Hannah could see that in the blank expression in his eyes. The bewilderment, the betrayal, the emptiness.
***
Beau was arrested and put in jail two days later while he was working up the courage to face his brother-in-law. He’d been to the farmhouse once, and Daniel wasn’t there. His friend Travis wasn’t there either. He bet they were out looking for Hannah.
He got drunk when he returned to town that night and sought out Millie Peacock for what he didn’t get at Mamie’s. Then there was a scuffle with some boys that he never got along with. Eldon Tremaine was in the middle of it, drunk as he was, spouting horrible lies about his sister that couldn’t go unanswered. Before their drunken brawl was over, Beau had struck a bit of terror in the belly of his foes. That was shortly before the sheriff appeared and clamped handcuffs on his wrists. Beau, Eldon and several others were taken to the jailhouse.
“You gotta fine Daniel,” he slurred his words, desperate to relay his important message to the sheriff. “I know where shueee is. Gotta… yes… sheeeua there.” That’s all he said before he passed out.
***
A loud rapping on the door came early in the morning. Most of the girls were still sleeping—recovering from a night of drunken ruffians passing through Swollen River, thinking it right to leave a few bruises on the girls they slept with. Mamie finally drove them out with her shotgun. The hole in the porch roof could be repaired was the logic she used when she surveyed the damage she’d done with the single shot. After the commotion died down, she put the girls to bed for the night and turned out all the lights—first time in years that she wouldn’t be taking guests.
Still, the visitor at the front door kept banging until it was clear he wouldn’t stop.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” the Madam exhaled tiredly, as she hustled from her downstairs bedroom to answer the knock.
Hannah was already in the kitchen with the first pan of biscuits ready to go in the oven. Mamie wouldn’t let any of the girls, including Hannah, answer the door after what happened in the night.
The handsome man standing on Mamie’s porch didn’t look like the men who generally frequented her establishment. Alarmingly handsome in a rough sort of way, his visage was filled with darkness and worry that gave Mamie the shivers. She stood firmly in the doorway, shotgun at her side, planting her feet like tree trunks and barring him entrance until he explained himself.
“I’m looking for Hannah Crowe,” he said.
“And why would that be?”
“She’s my wife.”
Mamie’s firm expression softened but just slightly. If he weren’t the right kind of man, she wouldn’t let him take Hannah, that was for certain. And unless he showed her more than this chiseled expression, she knew he didn’t deserve the girl.
“Why would your wife be here in my house, hmm?”
“That’s what I need to discuss with her, ma’am.” His face turned weary but hopeful. Mamie could see the longing in his eyes now and she softened a little more.
“So, how do you know she’s even here?”
“I don’t…” he stopped and tried to smile, “what is your name? Miss Mamie?”
“That’s my name.”
“Her brother Beau was here a few days ago. Beau Noble. Maybe you know him? He said I’d find Hannah with you. I don’t mean any trouble; I just need to fetch her home.”
Mamie nodded, and finally opened the door and stepped aside.
“I’ll see if I can find her. But you watch yourself. I’ve been around men who abuse their wives. That girl needs more than a firm hand; she needs loving and looking after. And someone wasn’t doing it. If they had, she wouldn’t have been banging on my door in the middle of the night looking for a place to stay.”
His face was suddenly a sheet of ashen worry. “I love her ma’am. Whatever caused her to leave I knew nothing about it until a few days ago. There’s a lot to repair, but I need to see my wife!” His passion swelled with determination, matching the tone of his voice.
Mamie liked that. “Wait here for just a minute.”
Hannah had been listening at the kitchen door. Her heart was thumping so madly that she was nearly in a faint. She didn’t dare look at Daniel’s face, especially into his eyes, or feel the touch of his body close. No! No! She had to push aside the compromising woman and be firm. Stick with her resolution. It was the only right thing! As Mamie turned back to the kitchen, Hannah ran for her bedroom and closed the door tight, then sat on the bed shivering from the chill of her own fears.
“You can’t let him just leave without seeing him, girl,” Mamie argued when she refused to open the door.
“Yes, I can. Please, Mamie, tell him I don’t want to see him.”
“I do a lot of things for my girls but I’m not speaking for you in this one. You speak for yourself. The man’s beside himself with worry.”
Her heartstrings tugged. “I don’t care,” she lied.
“Oh, dammit, Hannah, you do. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t make such a fuss, and you certainly could face him.”
“No, I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not budging.”
The heated exchange rose in volume the longer it went on, its testy tone soon drawing Daniel to the kitchen door where he listened to the banter. Finally he pushed his way into its midst. He nodded at Mamie and she stepped aside.
“Door locked?” he asked quietly.
The woman nodded.
“Hannah, open this door and let me see you.”
The sound of her name spoken in her husbands’ deep baritone shook her like the hands of a scolding parent. But she couldn’t answer.
“Open the door, Hannah. Now!”
Still she was silent.
“You’re acting like a spoiled child, girl.” He was growing impatient.
Still nothing. She sat on the bed, shaking with a cold fear. Her head hurt, she had no voice, her throat was clenched so tight she was sure any reply would come out like a pained squawk .
“I’m not here to punish you, Hannah, but I swear if I have to knock down this door, I’ll blister your ass.”
The threat finally gave her the will to act, and she moved to the door. But instead of opening it, she slumped against it still too frightened of what she would say or do if she had to face Daniel. In a small voice, she spoke through the door, “Daniel, I know what’s right here. Please respect my wishes.”
There was silence on the other side, then she jumped back as she felt a powerful surge of energy, powerful thumps, and then to her dismay, the flimsy lock on the door suddenly broke free.
Angry, Daniel’s determination etched into his face like granite, the man gathered his wife in his arms and hoisted her over his shoulder, turned abruptly toward the front of the house and strode away. The shocked Hannah went from weariness to war in just seconds, hands flailing and feet kicking, while the resolute
man moved from one room to the next, his long strides carrying them rapidly to the front door. By then, the ladies in the rooms above were roused and stumbling down the steps to see what was happening. About ten in all appeared in various forms of dress, from fully clothed to almost nothing at all, wiping the sleep from their eyes to view the unfolding scene with everything from amusement to horror to amazement.
Slung over the shoulder of a strappingly virile fellow was their new house girl, Hannah. Any one of the whores would have been happy to be carried off by this fine looking gent, but Hannah was kicking and screaming with a heretofore-undemonstrated wildness of emotion. She was shrieking, pounding at the man’s broad back with her fists, kicking her legs, and her hair streamed loose, like a native woman’s.
One errant kick caught him in the side. “Ouch! That hurt!” Daniel declared. He tightened his grip, holding her legs down, while she still struggled like a wildcat. “Miss Mamie, you got anything handy I can use to tame this wild woman?”
The woman nodded, then disappeared for only seconds, returning with the well-worn strap that sometimes came in handy with the girls who didn’t know their place.
Daniel nodded in thanks, and twirled his angered wife inside his arms so she was clasped firmly at his side, bottom forward. The first strikes rained down with feverish rapidity overtop her clothes.
Hannah only screamed more vehemently. “Put me down! Now!”
“Shall I bare your behind for all to see?” he asked, pausing briefly.
She wriggled fiercely inside his steely grip, getting no where and only more frustrated.
Yet, there was something satisfactory about the scene in Hannah’s disorientated thoughts. Her husband had every right to do this—in truth, she should have given in without a fight, but the fight was still there. All the emotion that had been hiding in her squelched, denied and hopefully forgotten exploded as the tremendous pain of the spanking triggered that pent-up rage.
“What’ll it be, girl?” her husband barked the question.
“You’ll do what you will, you bastard!” she spit out in a manner so unlike her that the gawking girls were struck dumb.
Mamie, equally amazed, stood nearby in wonder. In all her years of dealing with men, she’d never seen anything quite like this display of passionate longing. It was clear these two were intensely in love.
The ‘bastard’ comment did not go unpunished, no one figured it would. Obviously, Hannah wanted exactly what came next, because there was no better way to incite Daniel Crowe’s wrath than hearing a woman spitting foul-mouthed epithets. Moving into the parlor he sat down on the settee and threw his wife’s skirt up over her head, then lowered her drawers to unveil her pink flesh. Mamie’s small leather strap packed a mean punch when landing on bare skin, and so the venomous war continued until Hannah was finally spent and could do nothing but beg for mercy.
“I didn’t mean it, Daniel. I’m sorry!” she cried. “Stop! Please!”
It wasn’t but a few more resounding spanks and he ended the punishment with one final, emphatic smack.
Daniel looked up to see Travis standing in the doorway, watching, as the women watched. The sudden change in mood sent several women scurrying back upstairs, while others waited for the final outcome.
“Miss Mamie, will you please pack up my wife’s things? Travis here will bring them along. Hannah and I will be leaving now.”
The woman nodded and accepted the strap. The smooth leather was still warm to the touch.
The two people were on their feet, the woman leaning wearily against the tall man. Hannah’s tear-stained face was wrecked, and it was only just beginning.
“Here’s her cloak, sir,” one of the girls handed the garment to Daniel, “she’s gonna need it with the cold so bitter now.” Under different circumstances, tearful, heartfelt good-byes might have been exchanged; certainly the ladies of the house had grown fond of Hannah and her cooking, yet once she was snuggled inside the cloak, her husband protectively hustled her out of the house and to his horse.
“Don’t forget, she has that pretty filly tethered in the barn,” Mamie said.
“I’ll take care of her,” Travis said, tipping his hat kindly to the Madam. Like the others, he turned to watch the pair retreat into the cold grey morning.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
With the weather changing fast, Daniel’s plans changed too. The snow flurries started almost the instant the two stepped from Miss Mamie’s house, and the storm grew more intense as they slowly made their way into the hills on the back of Daniel’s stallion, Buck. The wind whipped at their legs and they both shivered from the bone-deep chill. Hannah’s only thought was that they might be stranded in this blizzard and die from the exposure. She counted that a fitting end to her terrible story.
But Daniel knew these hills like good friends and he had no such fear. He knew exactly where he planned to spend the night, and when he pulled up to dismount, they were within a few yards of an old mountain camp he frequented when he checked his traps on the high ridge.
There was a pallet bed, and a stone fireplace and plenty of dry wood stacked and ready for winter. After carrying Hannah inside, he went back to the horse for his rope, bedroll and food, then returned to the crude shelter and closed the door.
Hannah sat on the floor shivering, while she dully watched her husband move about the room. He set his things on a rickety table then took up a length of rope and leveled his gaze on her.
“Give me your hands.”
“What?”
“Your hands.”
Though cautious and worried, she sensed it better not to argue; and so held out her hands and watched awestruck as Daniel bound them together and tied off the rope with a tight knot.
“Why this?” she asked.
“I’m not risking you doing something foolish like running way,” he bluntly stated.
“In a blizzard?”
His answering stare was as icy as the howling wind.
The huge lump in her throat remained, making it difficult for her to speak.
As if it weren’t bad enough that he bound her hands, he bound her feet as well so she couldn’t stand up.
“I’ll set a fire and you’ll be warm enough soon,” he said.
She nodded and watched him open the door—a cruel blast of wind burned her skin—then he moved outside to the woodpile and returned minutes later with an armful of kindling and larger logs.
With the fire lit and starting to warm the room, Daniel sat on the lone chair beside her.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“No. I had breakfast,” she managed.
“But that was probably hours ago. You sure?”
“I’m fine.”
“Water?”
“No, sir.” She shook her head as she stared into the leaping flames.
Daniel sat back a bit and crossed his legs, the ankle at the knee, and took a breath. “Then I guess rather than waste my time any further, you can spit out the truth.”
She looked up at him blankly.
“Confess what you need to confess and let’s get on with things,” he added.
“Confess what?”
“Tell me why you left, why you fight me now, why you’re so damned sure we don’t belong together as husband and wife.”
“That’s why we’re here?”
“That and there’s a blizzard out there.”
Having no idea what to say, and a good deal about what she wouldn’t say, Hannah took a long time before she finally answered. Even then, what came out wasn’t satisfactory for either of them. “I’m a ruined woman,” she said succinctly, thinking that should settle the matter. But knowing that he’d want more of an explanation, she continued, “I don’t deserve to be your wife. And if you have any regard for me at all, you’d let the matter rest.”
He let that sink and answered right back.
“That not good enough, Hannah. I need more.”
“I’m not going to explain more!” she blu
rted out.
“Suit yourself. I can wait you out.” He stood up.
“What do you mean, wait me out?”
“Exactly what I said.” He moved to the table and returned with a slice of thick buttered bread, and while he ate, Hannah looked from him to the fire and back again.
After he’d eaten, Daniel paced a bit. He stoked the fire, and then said he had to check a trap or two and might as well do it now.
“It’s a blizzard outside!” she reminded him.
“No, I think the snow is letting up,” he countered.
“Well, then, we can leave,” she said hopefully.
“We will leave when you have told me what I want to know.” He stood over her like a towering giant. “When I have a full accounting of everything you’re harboring in secret. Husbands and wives don’t keep secrets, Hannah, they help each other, they care when they are hurting. But I have to know what’s happened and you’re going to tell me, or we’re going nowhere.”
He didn’t give her time to answer, but put on his coat and walked out.
The impasse between her stubborn silence and his stubborn insistence continued for the remainder of the day. Travis appeared a few hours after they’d installed themselves in the mountain camp. He left them some food, said he’d be taking Jenny back to the farm, and if he didn’t see them in a couple of days, he’d return with more rations.
That night they slept apart, Daniel on the pallet atop a bed of pine branches covered with his bedroll while Hannah pulled her cloak over her body and rested her head on her bound hands. She even refused to ask for something to cradle her head.
The second day, she still refused to speak, sitting before the fire, blankly staring at the flames, rejecting the food Daniel offered and only occasionally taking a sip of water. She did her best to forget everything about the last few weeks of her life; although it was impossible not to feel the desperation, the hurt, and the fear that galloped through her emotions and made her more weary than ever.
By the end of the second night, her bones were so sore and aching that she hardly slept. The wind howled outside and all she wanted to think of was the warm bed at home—her bed, their bed, the marriage bed that was once so covered with hopes and blanketed with promising dreams that now it tore at her to even imagine it.
The Humiliation of Hannah Page 15