“That’ll be the day my upstanding brother joins us.” Daniel grinned.
“Where’d that pretty French girl go?” the young logger asked. He tried to sit up, but the effort made him hold his head in both hands.
“Off to spend the money she lifted from your wallet. I told you, those kind make decent drinking partners, and they’re fine for a few laughs. But they’re no good for more. They only look like the real thing.”
“What do you know about nice women?” The young man slurred.
Daniel ran a hand through his dark waves to straighten them. “I was married to one once. And after you’ve known real love, you won’t settle for some cheap replacement.”
He stumbled over one last celebrant as he made his way into the smoke-dimmed morning light.
o0o
Though wildfires continued to plague the surrounding counties, people went about their daily lives. Aunt Lucinda decided to shepherd Hannah and Amelia to the morning service at the church.
“I love it when you brush my hair, Miss Mercy,” said Amelia as she smiled in the looking glass. Then she whispered loudly, “Sometimes, Aunt Lucinda pulls the tangles.”
“My mother used to call them rats,” Hannah said. “She thought rats sneaked in and tied the knots at night.”
“Aunt Lucinda would never let any old rats inside her house,” the child said emphatically. She grinned first to her doll, and then at Hannah. “That’s because she couldn’t teach them to wipe their feet when they came in.”
Hannah smiled and shook her head. “We’d better hurry, or we’ll miss the service.”
The three of them walked along the pathway, their progress noted by the nodding yellow mums. Amelia loosed her grip on their hands and picked one for each woman.
“Honestly, child,” complained Lucinda loudly, “I don’t plant them for you to —” She paused as Amelia’s face grew somber, then continued. “Oh, they’ll only dry up anyway with all this drought, or get nipped by the next frost. Thank you, Amelia, for sharing them with us.”
Hannah tickled the girl’s nose with the bloom until she sneezed. Then, laughing, Amelia looked up and saw a man on horseback in the street.
“Papa!” she cried. “Come to church with us!”
Dozing in the saddle, Daniel rode past at a trot.
“Oh, dear, he’s getting just as deaf as this old woman,” said Lucinda lightly, but she cast a troubled glance at Hannah. It was obvious her nephew had been drunk.
Hannah’s opinion of Daniel plummeted. What a selfish man he was, to ignore his family for the bottle!
Intent on distracting the child, she stooped and picked a showy golden blossom from the walkway. “Come here, Amelia. Let’s tuck this in your hair.”
Amelia looked after her father for a moment longer before turning back to Hannah.
Following the service, Lucinda introduced “Mercy” to some of the women of her church, respectable women of a type Hannah knew well.
“Miss Wilder is the daughter of a great friend of my husband’s family,” Lucinda told the women. When the service was over and the two of them were sharing tea, she explained. “There’s no need for everyone in town to know the particulars of your arrangement with my nephew.”
Hannah was grateful. She’d had enough of gossip to last a lifetime.
But even here it wasn’t long in finding her. The following morning, as she walked toward the general store to buy some baking powder Lucinda needed for a cake, she was surprised to see the same round-cheeked adventuress who had called out to Daniel only minutes after her arrival. Hannah avoided eye contact and moved as far away as the sidewalk allowed, but the woman laughed raucously.
“You! I know what you are! Just another strumpet, so don’t act so prim and proper. You ask me, there ain’t a whisker’s worth o’ difference between a gal who’ll keep the shanty boys happy and some ‘lady’ who’d come to marry a man she never met!” The smell of whiskey on her breath was strong. “Leastways, if I don’t like the fellow, I’m not stuck with him so long.”
Hannah’s heart sank at the woman’s loud voice and the old men staring from the store’s front porch. It would be all over town now, just because of Daniel! She was sure of that. John would never have spoken to this — this wild creature. He would never have exposed her to ridicule!
If Daniel was going to carouse with ruffians, that was his affair, but his loose talk would ruin her good name.
The redhead staggered toward the old men, her hand out. Once refused, she whirled around and stormed down the street, swearing loudly to herself. Hannah, too disturbed to think, stood rooted to the sidewalk.
One of the old men left his bench and approached her. His face was rugged and reddened by years of wind and sun. He removed a worn hat from his gray head with his left hand, for his right was shorn off just below the elbow joint.
“Don’t pay Rosalind no mind, Miss. She ain’t never been right since her babe died.”
Hannah looked up sharply. The old man’s eyes were liquid.
“She never was a bad girl, but she always fell in with the wrong lads. Her mother and I . . . we tried. Please, forgive her. She don’t talk sense when she’s been at the drink.” His eyes were beseeching as an old hound’s.
“I’m sure you did your best. I — I’m so sorry,” Hannah stammered. What else could she say? He had probably spent half his life apologizing for a daughter who appeared beyond redemption. Hannah wondered if there were anyone alive left who would do the same for her.
The old man nodded, then consoled himself with a sip from his friend’s flask.
Awkwardly, Hannah excused herself and completed her errand before returning to Lucinda’s. They would all be going to the farm that evening for a dinner with John. She hoped fervently that Daniel would be there too, and that she would have the opportunity for a word alone with him. A drunken woman’s accusations might well be ignored if Hannah could put a stop to Daniel’s mischief. It was yet possible her name might be preserved.
o0o
To pull her gig, Aunt Lucinda kept a fat black gelding well past his prime. That afternoon, the women loaded Amelia and a fresh cake and began the hour’s drive out to the farm.
“Here, Mercy.” The old woman handed her the reins. “Why don’t you take these? You’re so much better with Old Blessing than I am.”
Despite her apprehension, Hannah managed a half-smile. “I can’t imagine Old Blessing has cut any shines in a dozen years.”
“That’s ‘cause he’s too fat,” piped in Amelia.
“Just because a person’s a bit broad through the hindquarters doesn’t mean she — I mean he — can’t still raise Cain on occasion,” Lucinda proclaimed loudly. Her back stiffened the way it always did when she was vexed.
“You said ‘person.’ I thought Old Blessing was a horse,” the girl answered with a grin.
“What’s true of a person is often as true for a beast,” the old woman said.
Hannah felt a sharp poke from Amelia’s elbow, which she wisely ignored. She was too anxious about her imagined confrontation with Daniel to take part in baiting a likable, if sensitive, old woman.
After another ten minutes of dust, bumps, and hoof beats, Amelia fell asleep, clutching her doll and leaning against Hannah.
“Perhaps now,” Lucinda said quietly, “you can tell me what’s been on your mind all day.”
Hannah felt the blood drain from her face. “Not a thing.”
“Pshaw. Ever since you went out for baking powder, you’ve been out of sorts. What happened?”
“Nothing at all.” She would settle this with Daniel, not snivel over gossip to Lucinda.
“Come now,” the old woman prompted, more insistently this time.
“Perhaps I’m missing home.” That sounded reasonable enough, thought Hannah, even though she no longer had a home to miss.
Before Lucinda could say another word, Blessing stopped abruptly, his ears pricked and his head held high. Both women turned the
ir attention to the horse. Beyond him, the trees looked indistinct and hazy, but it was impossible to tell from what direction the smoke came.
“Do you smell it?” Hannah asked and sniffed again. “It’s too close.”
“All I smell these days is smoke,” said Aunt Lucinda. “I clean ash off the mantel twice a day if I even crack the windows.”
“This is stronger, though.” Hannah strained her ears, listening for the telltale crackle of flame through the dry leaves. Hearing nothing but light wind through the treetops, she gave the reins a tentative flick to gently urge the animal forward. The brush fire could be anywhere, behind, ahead, or to either side. Or it could be in all those spots at once, she thought with a light shudder.
Hannah shoved fear’s dark head beneath the surface. Lucinda and Amelia needed someone sensible to drive them, so she refused to allow herself the luxury of panic. They weren’t far from the farm now, so she decided to keep driving.
“It’s all right, Blessing. No need to catch the jitters.” Strength and assurance flowed through Hannah’s voice and down the narrow leather reins. After a moment’s hesitation, the gelding broke into an easy trot.
“He trusts you,” Lucinda told her. She patted Hannah’s hand. “So do I.”
Lucinda’s earlier questions were forgotten. Instead, both women considered the towering trees that rose along their pathways, trees whose very dryness seemed to cry for flame.
o0o
Amelia woke in time to throw herself into her father’s arms. After a quick kiss, she announced, “I’m going to find my kitten.”
“I saw her playing back behind the barn.” Daniel smiled after her as she ran in that direction, her flaxen pigtails bouncing against her back.
At least he was sober enough to notice his daughter today, thought Hannah.
The huge man helped each woman down from the gig.
“There was a lot of smoke across the road about a mile from here,” Hannah told him. Despite her anger with him, her hand felt good enfolded inside his.
He released it with no sign of hesitation. “There’s a lot of smoke everywhere today,” he said, looking off in that direction. “Probably nothing but the usual small hot spots, but I can’t say I like the way that wind is picking up. Nothing like a breeze to fan up sparks.”
“Mercy talked Old Blessing through it,” Aunt Lucinda added. “I was mighty glad to have her along. Do you think we’ll be all right here, Daniel?”
He nodded. “We’ve cleared a lot of acreage, and this house and barn sit smack dab in the middle. We’re safer here than anywhere that I can think of.”
“You always know just what to say to an old woman,” Lucinda told him. “Let me take this cake into the house and help John with the dinner.”
“I’ll give Daniel a hand here with the horse,” said Hannah.
“You needn’t do that,” Daniel said as he unhitched the animal. He led the gelding toward the barn. “With a good rest and some hay, he’ll soon forget his fright. Besides, I imagine you’re just wild to go in and listen to John quote some more scripture.”
Hannah followed him inside. “Scripture’s a sight more wholesome than the gossip you’ve been quoting. I’d like to speak to you a moment on the subject.”
She paused, and Daniel faced her, his brows raised in surprise —or scorn. Behind him, several horses nickered greetings, their heads hanging out of neat box stalls. Two cows lowed a reminder that it was nearly time for milking.
After a deep breath, Hannah continued. “This morning, I was accosted by your young lady friend. I believe her name is Rosalind.”
His laughter was edged in mockery. “I wouldn’t call Rosalind my friend, and there’s few would bother calling her a lady.”
“Yes, well, whatever you might call a woman of that sort, you needn’t whisper gossip about me.”
Daniel looked away from her and began unbuckling Old Blessing’s harness. His fingers moved about the task with brisk efficiency.
Finally, he glared at her. “You think this two-bit, mail-order romance you have with my brother is worth the time to spread around? Miss Wilder, I’ve got better things to do.”
“Such as drink so much whiskey you can’t even recognize your little girl on Sunday mornings?
“I don’t see what business it would be of yours if I got blind drunk every day.”
She put one hand on a hip and strode closer to him. “It’s my business when you’re out spreading secrets.”
“So you’re worried about secrets, are you?” Daniel shook his head in clear disgust. “I’d wager you’ve got more than a few. I can’t say I’m surprised about it, either. I warned John a woman as fine-looking as you would likely be a basketful of trouble.”
Hannah’s pulse roared in her ears. He was just trying to rile her. He didn’t know about her past. He couldn’t. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she plunged ahead. “It’s just that I don’t want my arrangement with your brother fodder for the gossips of this town.”
Daniel hung the harness, then retrieved a brush. His strokes, as he began to use it on the gelding, were quick enough to raise a cloud of horsehair, which hung like anger in the air around them.
“If you really think I told Rosalind, you don’t know me very well. No matter what I think of his wife-buying venture, I wouldn’t do anything to embarrass John.”
“If you didn’t tell her, who did?” Hannah demanded. “I refuse to believe John has had anything to do with that woman.”
“You’ve got him sized up, all right. He wouldn’t be caught dead around the boarding house. Some of his church friends might see him.”
“You could learn a great deal from your brother. Starting with how to redeem your character. Church would be a fine place to begin. You could take Amelia,” Hannah told him. She knew she should stop now, but Daniel’s guess about her secrets had honed her words, leaving each one swift and sharp. “Perhaps the minister would preach a sermon on the topic of gossip, or the wages of sin, or how to pray to ask forgiveness.”
Daniel threw down the brush. The straw near her feet erupted in a puff of dust and chaff. “I know damned well how to pray, Miss Wilder. You think I didn’t try it, when the doctor came to bleed my Mary? You think I didn’t promise everything, say the fiercest prayers I knew? You think I didn’t offer up my life if God would save her?”
He shook his head, his jaw clenched so ferociously it was a wonder his teeth weren’t pulverized. When he spoke again, his voice seethed with old resentment. “John calls Him the Good Lord, and so did I one time. After the War ended, I sort of figured Mary was my reward for coming home. But then, God took her away from me. Damned fever took her anyway.”
“You still have a fine daughter.” The words sounded flat and useless, even to Hannah. His wife, a woman he had loved, had died. Despite Daniel’s rudeness, despite even his gossip, she hadn’t meant to reopen that old wound.
“That I do,” he nodded. “And you think I’m heartless not to have Amelia here with me. Well, the truth is Aunt Lucinda likes living in town, and I want my girl to go to school. I won’t leave her here alone all day while John and I work this farm.”
“Or all night while you spread tales?”
Daniel’s glowered at her. “I didn’t tell Rosalind. I admit I’ve got my faults, but I’m no skulking gossip. Maybe you’d better scold the telegraph operator on his morals, or his delivery boy.”
“Telegraph?”
Daniel nodded. “Something came for John today from your Mr. Harlan. My brother’s been out of sorts ever since.”
Hannah’s knees loosened, and she barely kept herself from crashing to the dirt floor of the barn. Heart pounding, she managed to form words. “What —what did the telegram say?”
Daniel shrugged and stared at her intently. “John wouldn’t tell me, but from the looks of you, I’d say you know already.”
Her hands were shaking, and suddenly, she didn’t know quite what to do with them. Had Malcolm found her here? Had anyone?
Unexpectedly, Daniel laid his hand on her arm. The flesh felt warm on her cool skin. “Maybe you should tell me, one sinner to another. Could be there’s something I can do to help.”
She shook her head without speaking. If she tried to say a word, the tears would flow. She’d borne so much, but right now she didn’t know if she could stand to let him see her weeping.
“This past week,” Daniel told her, “I’ve kept my eye on you, done some thinking on the reasons a woman like you might put yourself in this kind of situation. My brother likes you, Mercy, likes you a great deal. And why shouldn’t he? You’re smart, level-headed, and prettier than store-bought lace. But everything I saw told me you must be running from some sort of past. Everything I see now tells me I was right.”
Hannah stared at him through prisms created by the teardrops in her eyes. Just as that moisture had softened his features, her reaction had somehow softened his words.
“Could be I’m a man with secrets of my own,” he told her, his voice low and calming, just as one would speak to a spooked horse. “Could be I’ve had troubles enough to help you deal with yours. We’re a lot alike, more alike than you’d admit.”
How she longed to throw herself into his arms, to tell him everything so he could make it right! But of course, that was impossible. If John had somehow learned who she was, she was already well past saving. Her lies had earned her that.
“You’re kind to offer,” she managed weakly, “but I don’t require any help.”
He reached for her and pulled her close, then cupped her cheek in that big, warm hand. The fingertips felt callused against the smooth skin of her face. Move away, she warned herself, but she did nothing, even as he leaned closer. Even as he sought her mouth for a long kiss.
Every fiber of Hannah responded to his touch. She felt all the tightness of her body beginning to dissolve. She wanted nothing more than to explore, for hours, to her heart’s desire, the deep want he’d awakened. She’d thought that part of her had died with Malcolm’s accusations, and something in her reveled it had not.
Coming to her senses, she pulled herself away. “John’s your brother,” she accused. “I’m to marry him.” She had to remind herself, as well as Daniel, of the reality of her relationship with John.
Touched by Fire Page 3