Hannah could only stare at him in disbelief. “If you’re not Alfred, just who are you?”
“My name is James Woodson Harris. Wood.” He took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to tell her how he came to be lying in her cornfield. “I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t remember how I got here. It’s just as I told Gabby. One day I was looking for my sister, the next I was flat on my back in your cornfield.”
Skepticism caused her eyebrows to lift. “You’re saying you can’t remember how you got here?”
He shrugged helplessly. “Like I told you before, I woke up one morning and part of my life had disappeared.”
He searched her eyes for one glimmer of understanding, but all he saw was apprehension. He wondered how he would ever be able to convince her that the newspaper article that had branded him a murderer was erroneous. She’d remember those bruises on his neck and wrists and any hope of earning her trust would be forever gone.
“If you have amnesia, you should have seen a doctor.” Again there was uncertainty in her tone.
“And how would a doctor help me?”
“He could give you a physical exam for one thing—see if you’ve had any head injuries that might have caused you to lose part of your memory.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think a doctor’s going to be able to tell me anything that will help me.”
She sat quietly for several moments. “I wish you had told us who you were right from the beginning.”
“It was easier to let you assume I was Alfred Dumler. I needed a place to stay and, like you, I thought Gabby had answered an ad for a hired hand. Considering my circumstances, it was the only option I thought I had,” he explained.
“The truth didn’t merit any consideration?”
He sighed in exasperation. “I was homeless, without money and not feeling well. Even when you thought I was Alfred Dumler you wanted to have me hauled to the nearest insane asylum. How do you suppose you would have reacted had I told you the truth?”
Hannah knew he had a point. “But to take another man’s identity...”
“I only took his name, Hannah. The man you know is me, Wood Harris, not Alfred Dumler. I’m the one who has worked with you till the wee hours of the morning. I’m the one who helps Jeremy with his homework and plays cards with Gabby. And I’m the one who wants to see that you get what’s rightfully. yours—your inheritance.”
To his surprise she didn’t give him an outright rejection. “I need to think about all of this,” she told him, gazing past him to the corn stalks, waving in the breeze.
“I understand.”
She folded up the blanket and gathered up the picnic basket.
“You take the combine. I’ll drive the truck,” she told Wood.
He saw it as a positive sign. For weeks she had been training him to run the combine. Now he was finally getting his chance. She finally trusted him with the most expensive piece of machinery she had. Now the only question was would she trust him with her heart.
JUST WHEN HANNAH THOUGHT they’d finish the harvest in record time, the rains came. Steady, cold rain that made it impossible to work in the fields. All Hannah could do was sit on the porch swing and stare dismally out at the gray skies and hope that tomorrow would be dry. If it wasn’t bad enough that corn prices had dropped, now the weather threatened to keep her from getting her crop in at all.
Ever since she had been a small child Hannah had liked to sit on the porch and listen to the rain. She thought the sound of the drops hitting the roof were like mood music. Today those drops sounded relentless, a perfect background for her own emotions.
Two days had passed since Wood had proposed to her, yet she was no closer to making a decision. She wished she could forget about the stupid deadline of the will, but it hung over her head, pounding on her subconscious just like the rain pounded on the roof.
Although Hannah had thought of little else during those two days, she hadn’t arrived at any conclusions. Her pride demanded that she ignore her grandfather’s wishes and fight to keep the farm without his help. But then her intellect reminded her that it was difficult enough making ends meet without the added pressures of more debt.
And there was Wood himself. Every instinct she had tempted her to trust him, despite the fact that she knew so little about him. Marrying a stranger should have appalled her. Yet it didn’t. It actually intrigued her.
He had made it sound like a business arrangement, which should have suited Hannah just fine. Intellectually Hannah knew it was exactly what she should have wanted to hear, but emotionally it felt like a rejection. She caught herself wondering what it would be like to have a man who would fuss over her and make her feel as if she were the most important woman in the world. Someone who would bring her coffee in bed and kiss her awake, someone she could talk to late at night and fall asleep in his arms.
The men in her life had never proved to be very reliable. Her own father had left when she was only seven, discontented with life on the farm. After her relationship with Jeremy’s father, she had dated few men. None had proved they were any different. Just like the hired hands that came and went, so did the loves in her life.
Experience had taught her not to trust her heart to the care of a man. Now here she was contemplating marriage. Of course it wouldn’t be a real marriage. It was a business arrangement. It would have a prenuptial agreement, a legal contract and, after a certain amount of time, a dissolution.
“Why don’t you come inside and have a cup of hot chocolate with me?” Gabby called out through the screen door, interrupting her musings.
The chain on the swing creaked as Hannah slowly rocked back and forth. “Are there any of those fudge brownies left?”
“I just made another batch. And this time I frosted them.”
It was a temptation Hannah couldn’t refuse. She scrambled inside, shrugged out of her rain gear and hung it in the entry.
“You just got over the flu and now you’ve gone and got your hair wet.” Gabby scolded her, setting a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of her niece.
Ever since Hannah’s own mother had died when she was only twelve, Gabby, despite being single and never having been a parent, had assumed a maternal role in Hannah’s life. The problem was that Gabby was more of a mother hen than her own mother had been. Even though Hannah was an adult woman with a child of her own, Gabby often treated her as if she were still a twelve-year-old. At times it irritated Hannah. But not today. Today with the cold rain and her emotional uncertainty, she found Gabby’s concern comforting.
“It’s a good thing you made me something hot to drink.” Hannah wrapped cold hands around the warm cup and inhaled appreciatively.
“We’re running out of time.” Gabby set a plate with six brownies on the table.
“I think we’ll get all the corn in,” Hannah said, blowing on the steaming chocolate before taking a sip.
“I’m not talking about the harvest. I’m talking about getting your inheritance.”
Hannah sighed. “Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“I still have time.”
“Then you haven’t ruled out marriage?” Gabby asked eagerly, taking the chair opposite Hannah.
Hannah was a bit surprised that Wood hadn’t told Gabby about his marriage proposal. The fact that he hadn’t was another point in his favor. He had left it up to Hannah to spread the news—if there was any news to spread.
“Wood and I have discussed the possibility of getting married.” She scooped up a tiny marshmallow with her fingers and plopped it in her mouth.
Gabby’s face brightened. “Then you’re not angry with me for bringing him here?”
Hannah was about to tell Gabby that she wasn’t responsible for bringing Wood to the farm, but thought it would be better not to say anything. “No, I’m not angry.”
Gabby exhaled a long sigh. “Good. We need to pull together if we’re going to save the farm. When will the wedding be?”
“I haven’t said there’s going to be a wedding. I said I’m considering it.”
“You’d better hurry.”
“It’s still seven days until the deadline.”
“Yes, but have you forgotten there’s a five-day waiting period for a marriage license in Minnesota?”
Hannah had forgotten. “That means I only have two days to make up my mind.” She smoothed fingers across her brow.
“Not if you want to drive across the border into South Dakota. There’s no waiting there.”
Hannah shook her head. “I can’t take a day off now—not during harvest.” She groaned. “I just wish I had more time to think this through.”
“Your grandmother used to say that it didn’t do much good to dwell on a decision. She would tell me to make up my mind and not worry. Nothing was irrevocable.”
That may have been fine for her grandmother, but Hannah always planned things out methodically. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to discourage Red,” she said thoughtfully over her mug of chocolate. “At least I’ve known him most of my life and he’s—”
“Boring,” Gabby finished for her. “Wood is a hunk. I’ve heard the gals in town talk about him.”
Hannah agreed. He was a hunk, which was what was so frightening.
“Hannah, your great-great-grandfather had a mail-order bride. He knew her less than a week when they became husband and wife, and their marriage lasted over forty years.”
“He probably wasn’t marrying her to collect an inheritance,” Hannah retorted.
“No, he needed someone to cook and clean for him. Is there much difference?”
Hanna chewed on her lip. “If there were more time, I’d hire a private investigator to check into Wood’s background.”
Gabby pooh-poohed the idea. “To find out what? He’s been living with us for over a month now. Can’t you tell what kind of man he is? I can.”
Hannah sighed. “I guess if I go through with it, I’ll have to accept him on blind faith.”
“As I see it, you’re like one of those contestants on the game show who get to choose between three doors. Door number one has nothing behind it. You choose it, you’re in the same pickle tomorrow as you are today—in debt and without your grandfather’s inheritance.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow. “And door number two?”
“That has any one of the men you know from Stanleyville standing behind it. If you choose it, you get the money to pay off your debts and a man who will be in your face forever. Even if you divorce, he’ll live within a few miles of us. And everyone in town will know about it, too.”
“You think I should take door number three, don’t you?”
“That’s where Wood is standing. If it works out between you and Wood—”
“That’s not an option, Gabby. I said it was going to be a marriage in name only,” Hannah interrupted her.
“Okay, I hear you,” she snapped a bit impatiently. “When you want to be rid of your paper husband, the man behind door number three will leave town.”
“Gee, what a deal,” Hannah drawled.
“It’s up to you. One, two or three?” Gabby slid the plate of brownies in Hannah’s direction. “I know which door I’d take.”
Maybe Gabby was right. If she married a stranger, there would be no problem when it came time to dissolving the marriage. Wood would leave, and she wouldn’t ever have to face him again, which was not going to happen if she were to marry someone from Stanleyville.
Long after they had finished their brownie break, Hannah’s thoughts were still on Wood Harris. As much as she wanted to trust him, he still hadn’t told her much about his past. Maybe he truly did have a bit of amnesia. It was possible. If only she could be more like Gabby and Jeremy—accepting him without any reservations.
There was no denying that Gabby did trust the man. Hannah had no doubt she would have loaned him money had he asked. Hannah was grateful he hadn’t asked. To his credit, he worked hard for everything he had and disliked when Gabby gave him gifts.
Then why was it that Hannah couldn’t let go of her reservations about him? She wanted to blame it on the fact that he had lied about his identity, but the truth was, it was the fact that he had kissed her and let her believe that he was interested in her romantically when all he had wanted was to marry her—for convenience sake.
That hurt.
HANNAH HAD MADE her decision. Wood could tell by the way she avoided looking at him during breakfast. Not that she ate any food—another clue that she was ready to give him an answer. Most of the action on her plate had involved pushing her scrambled eggs from one side to the other. She was nervous—which Wood interpreted as a good sign. If she was going to reject his offer, she’d do so with her usual bold approach.
As soon as Jeremy had gone to school, Gabby discreetly excused herself from the kitchen. Hannah got up to get herself another cup of coffee. Wood waited patiently, wondering what was going through her head. He was seeing her in a white dress, flowers in her hair, a smile on her face.
“I’ve come to a decision regarding my grandfather’s will,” she began the conversation, clutching her cup with both hands.
The muscles in Wood’s stomach tightened as he waited for her to continue.
She took a sip of coffee, then said, “Corn prices dropped again yesterday, and if this rain doesn’t let up I’m not.going to get my crop out of the field before the snow flies. I don’t want to lose this farm.” It was as if she spoke to the coffee, not him.
“Are you saying you want to go through with the marriage?”
After what seemed like an eternity, she said, “Yes.”
Wood felt as if Wilbur had been sitting on his chest and finally moved off him. Ever since he had proposed to Hannah, there had been an awkwardness between them. Maybe now things could finally return to the way they used to be.
“I’m pleased to hear that,” he told her.
She looked at him. “Are you?”
“Yes. I want to marry you.” It was the truth. At first he had been wary of Gabby’s plan, but now, knowing how it was going to benefit Hannah, he saw it as a logical step for both of them. Besides, he was already more than a little in love with her. And once they were married, he’d be able to tell her the whole truth about his past. There would be no secrets between them.
“Just so long as you know it’s not going to be a real marriage,” she warned.
Wood felt as if Wilbur had sat back down on his chest. “But how are you going to collect on your grandfather’s inheritance if it’s not legal?”
“I didn’t say it wouldn’t be legal. I said it wouldn’t be real. We’ll be husband and wife in name only.” Again she avoided his eyes, but the color in her cheeks confirmed what Wood suspected.
“In name only?” he repeated.
“Yes. You’re the one who told me nothing would have to change. We could continue as we are now. That means you’ll work for me and sleep in the loft.”
He could see her hands shake as she raised her cup to her lips and took another sip. Well, his insides were shaking, too. Out of anger and frustration. What kind of a marriage would it be if he slept in the loft? How would he ever be able to tell her the truth, to earn her trust, to win her love?
“Being the gentleman you are, I’m sure you can respect my wishes on this matter,” she said evenly.
Wood did not feel very gentlemanly right now. He wanted to remind her that she was the one who had put her hands in his trousers when they had been rolling around in the hay. Sleep in the loft?
Wood wanted to tell her to forget the whole thing. But he couldn’t. Because whether or not she wanted to be a wife to him, he still wanted to be her husband.
“You have my word I’ll not force my attention on you,” he said quietly.
“Thank you. Then we can go ahead with the plans. You’re going to need a copy of your divorce decree,” she told him.
“Why?”
“You need
it to get a marriage license.” She looked at him expectantly. “Is it going to be a problem getting a copy?”
He frowned. “I doubt I can obtain a copy of the divorce decree by tomorrow.”
“I think if you call the courthouse where it’s filed they might be able to get a copy faxed to the records office here,” Hannah suggested.
Faxed? Even if what she said was possible, how would he explain the date on the divorce decree?
“Are you sure it’s necessary? It was a long time ago.”
“I’ll call and check with the license office.” She checked her watch. “It’s too early to do it now. We’ll call later.”
Wood nodded, although he still wasn’t used to the telephone technology. He’d had to go from telegraph to telephone to a wireless cell phone—over a hundred years of technology—in less than a week.
“And after we get the license?”
“We’ll get married here, at the farm. We can’t afford to take any time away from harvesting. We can get a minister to come here.”
“What about witnesses?”
“There’s Gabby.”
“And Jeremy?”
“I guess he’ll be there, too.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke, but busied herself with clearing away the dishes from the table. “I’ve talked to my attorney. He’s drawing up the necessary papers that need to be signed.”
“You mean the prenuptial agreement.”
“Yes. There’s something else I think you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“The terms of my grandfather’s will say I need to stay married for one year. If we go through with this, you’ll have to agree to stay here during that time. After the year is up, you’re free to go.”
A kernel of doubt began to sprout in Wood’s mind. “And if I leave before then?”
“I’ll forfeit my inheritance.”
It wasn’t what Wood wanted to hear. If it were at all possible, he would uphold his end of the bargain. The problem was, what if time played another cruel trick on him and sent him back to 1876. What then would happen to Hannah?
Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) Page 19