Robin Lee Hatcher (16 page)

She wouldn’t allow herself to agree. “I’m not a schoolgirl, Mother.” She lifted her chin in a show of self-confidence.

“No, you’re not. But you — ”

“You can visit me at the Circle Blue. It’s not as if I’m moving far away. And we’ll come to church on Sundays. We’ll see each other often.”

“You can’t cook.”

“I’ll learn. We’ll manage.”

“We never should have left Philadelphia. I never should have let your father convince me this was God’s plan.”

Bethany hugged her mother again, whispering near her ear, “I love Hawk. I wanted to marry him. I’ll be all right.” The truth of those words lessened her fears. “I’ll be happy. You’ll see.”

After a quick glance and smile in Ingrid’s direction, she hurried from her bedroom before she could give in to more tears. She found her father waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Her throat tightened. As difficult as it had been to say good-bye to her mother and Ingrid, it would be twice as hard to say good-bye to her papa.

When she reached him, he cupped her face with his hands and looked directly into her eyes. “I’ll pray for your happiness every day.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll pray that you and Hawk will grow closer to God and, in doing so, grow closer to each other.”

She nodded.

“I love you, my dear girl.” He kissed her on the forehead.

“I love you too.”

For a long while neither of them moved, but at last his hands fell away and he took a step backward. “It’s time for you to go. Seek God’s wisdom, Bethany. Exercise patience and compassion. I believe your husband’s a good man or I wouldn’t have consented to the union. Love him for who and what he is and overlook what he is not.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

Her father looked beyond her. “Here is your husband, ready to leave.” He turned her toward the parlor. Then he took hold of her arm and escorted her the short distance to where Hawk stood, framed in the doorway. After kissing her cheek, her father passed her hand to Hawk. “May God bless you both.”

There was nothing left to do or say. She had changed out of the wedding dress and into this traveling costume. Her trunk, filled with clothes and keepsakes, had been sent ahead of them to the ranch. A borrowed carriage awaited the bride and groom by the gate of the white picket fence.

Hawk’s hand settled against the small of her back, and with it, he guided her out of the house and into the afternoon sunshine. After assisting her into the carriage, he slid in beside her.

Trepidation filled her as Hawk slapped the reins against the horse’s backside and the carriage moved forward. She twisted on the seat to look toward the front porch. Her parents were there, along with Griselda, Ingrid, and Rand, all of them waving in farewell.

She wanted to hurl herself from the vehicle and race back to the safety of her father’s arms. She wanted to feel her mother stroking her hair. She wanted to whisper and giggle with Ingrid as they talked late into the night, staring out the window at the stars.

She turned a surreptitious glance in her groom’s direction. Everything felt wrong, very wrong. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, and instead she felt like her heart was breaking. She was fine china shattering into a thousand pieces, and her new husband was stone.

Please, God, let me be wrong. Let him love me
.

NINETEEN

Three times before her wedding day, Bethany had been to the Circle Blue, but as the carriage approached the ranch after a long, silence-filled journey, she looked at everything with different eyes. This was now her home.

There was the large and sturdy barn — where Hawk had kissed her — and the bunkhouse where the cowhands lived when they weren’t on the range. The wood of the outbuildings and corral was unpainted, faded by summer suns and winter winds.

Her gaze moved to the house. It was made of logs and had glass-pane windows and a roof that looked weathertight. Nothing at all like her parents’ home in Sweetwater, of course, but that didn’t matter. She wasn’t afraid of change. Look at how she’d taken to her new life out West. This place suited her. She would be happy here.

This is where I’ ll live with Hawk. This is where our children will
be born.
The thought made her pulse quicken.

Hawk eased back on the reins, stopping the horse near the front door. He stepped down from the seat, moving stiffly, and offered a hand to assist her to the ground. “I’m sorry there wasn’t time to fix up the place and make it ready for you.” He moved to the door and opened it.

She hesitated on the threshold, overcome with uncertainty.

“I’ll tend to the horse. Go on in. I won’t be long.” Without a backward glance, he returned to the carriage and led the horse toward the barn.

Bethany stepped inside the cabin and took in her surroundings. The parlor had a stone fireplace at one end. A rag rug covered a good portion of the wood floor. Two straight-backed chairs stood on either side of the hearth, and beneath the window was a small sofa. She frowned. It couldn’t be. She moved closer. It couldn’t be, but it was.

Her eyes moistened. The brocade love seat had been in her parents’ bedroom for many years, first in Philadelphia, finally in Sweetwater. How many times had she sat on it, holding her mother’s hand, shedding tears of disappointment or sharing her dreams? Countless times. Now it was hers. Her parents had meant it as a special wedding gift, and it was.

She ran her fingers over the worn fabric on one arm of the sofa.

“Thank you, Mother. Thank you, Papa.”

She turned from the piece of furniture to continue her exploration. To the right of the parlor was an open doorway leading into the kitchen. She crossed the room for a better look. The middle of the kitchen was filled with a sturdy wooden table and four chairs. Pots and pans hung on nails in the wall. Firewood, neatly stacked, was next to the black iron cookstove, and beside it was an icebox, very similar to the one in her mother’s kitchen. Beneath the kitchen’s single window was another table, taller, longer, and narrower than the dining table, this one holding a large dishpan and two buckets. No sign of a pump or sink. Against the far wall was a round washtub, and to her right was a tall cupboard, presumably filled with dishes.

She turned from the kitchen and let her gaze stray to the two doors on the back side of the house. Bedrooms, she supposed. She would share one of those rooms with Hawk, beginning this very night.

Hating the anxious twist in her stomach, she walked across the parlor and sat on her mother’s love seat, her back ramrod straight, her eyes locked on a loose thread in the center of the rug. How long before Hawk returned from the barn? How long before she understood the furtive whispers and nervous giggles of the older girls at Miss Henderson’s?

As if in answer to her silent questions, the door opened and her husband stepped inside. His forehead was beaded with perspiration, and his complexion seemed the color of slate. He pressed one arm against his ribs, as if trying to hold himself together.

She rose to her feet. “Hawk?”

He looked at her, but for a moment she wasn’t sure he saw her.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m sorry, but I need to lie down for a while.” He moved toward the door on the left. When he reached it, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. “If you’re hungry, you should be able to find something to eat in the kitchen.”

She could almost hear her mother say,
I warned you, dear
. “I don’t know how to cook.”

He stared at her for the longest while without moving. Perhaps he was too tired or in too much pain to react to her confession. “When I get up, I’ll fix dinner.” He tipped his head toward the closed door of the other room. “If you want to rest, you’ll find everything you need in there.” Before she could respond, he went into the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

When word reached the Bar V Ranch that Bethany Silverton had married Hawk Chandler earlier that same day, Vince wanted nothing more than to smash the face of the man who’d delivered the news. Instead, he closed himself in his study, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and pondered his options as he nursed the drink, taking pleasure as it warmed his throat on the way down.

Chandler might
think
he’d won the girl just as he might
think
he would hang on to his land. Thinking didn’t make it so.

If not for his political aspirations, Vince might have given in to his craving for swifter results. But even his desire to possess the lovely Bethany as his own would not make him reckless. He must be careful how he proceeded, both with how he acquired the Circle Blue and how he acquired the future widow of Hawk Chandler.

Patient. He would have to be patient.

Hawk had plenty of things to trouble his thoughts, but thankfully, none were so potent that they kept him from falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. It was hunger that awakened him. Light had begun to fade outside, which surprised him. He hadn’t expected to sleep that long. It must be close to eight o’clock, judging by the light, a long while since he’d eaten breakfast at the doctor’s house.

He got out of bed and, after splashing water from the washbasin onto his face, stared at his reflection in the mirror. Had he made one of the biggest blunders of his life? He’d wanted to help, to do the right thing by Bethany, but his gut told him he’d made a mistake. Their marriage might alleviate some of the gossip for now, but in the long run . . . No, he had to make sure things didn’t get even worse from this moment forward.

His mind made up, he straightened and turned toward the door. No sounds came from the parlor. Perhaps his bride had fallen asleep as well. That would be for the best as far as he was concerned. The less time they spent in each other’s company, the better it would be for them both. When the day came that Bethany realized she shouldn’t have married him, when the day came that she knew she wanted a different life than what he could give her, he wanted her to be free to go, free to have their marriage annulled without any legal or moral difficulties. He would never send her away — he’d done enough damage as it was — but he must do nothing that might force her to stay either.

Resolved to keep his distance despite the tender feelings he had for her, Hawk left the bedroom. The door to the other room was open, and Bethany was nowhere to be seen. Not in Rand’s old room or in the parlor or in the kitchen.

“Bethany?” He left the house by way of the kitchen. “Bethany?”

No reply.

He walked to the barn, unsure if he should be concerned or relieved. Maybe she’d discovered her mistake and left him already.

“Bethany?”

As far as he could tell, the only horses that weren’t in the proper paddocks or stalls were the ones the boys had out on the range. Even her buckskin mare was here, delivered along with her trunk and that sofa earlier today.

His eyes swept the barnyard, then moved up the skirt of the mountain. He almost missed seeing her in the dying light of day, but there she was, a patch of blue among the shadows, seated on an outcropping of rocks. Either she hadn’t heard him or she’d chosen to ignore him. Either way, it seemed he would have to join her on the ridge.

He drew a deep breath, testing his rib cage. The pain wasn’t quite as bad now. He hoped it stayed that way. He didn’t want her to think him weak. Pride again. The very thing that had started all of this trouble.

A cool breeze whispered through the tall grass as Hawk climbed the hillside, his gaze locked on his bride. It wasn’t until he was almost to her that he saw she sat with her head bent forward, her face covered with her hands.

“Bethany?”

He heard her startled intake of breath an instant before she straightened.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Her voice broke over the word.

His heart pinched. She’d been crying. “Are you hungry? I was going to fix something to eat.”

“Could we sit here a while longer?”

Without reply, he lowered himself onto the rocky ledge.

Nightfall had come in earnest now, but a nearly full moon, only a sliver missing from one side, threw a silver white light over the rangeland below them. Good country. His country. He wondered if Bethany saw its beauty the way he did.