Robin Lee Hatcher (28 page)

Yes, it was. Wonderful and awful.

Hawk pulled his horse to a stop in front of the white picket fence.

Bethany raised her head. “We’re back?”

“Yeah. You think you can stand?”

“Yes.”

He slid her to the ground, his hands under her arms until he was certain she was steady, and then he dismounted. Before she could offer any protest, he swept her back off her feet and carried her up the walkway to the front porch.

Beatrice appeared from the back of the house as the door closed behind them. “Good heavens. What happened?”

“It’s nothing, Cousin Beatrice.”

“That’s not true,” Hawk countered. “She needs the doctor. Will you see she gets into bed, Mrs. Worthington, while I go for him?”

“Of course. Of course. Look at her. Oh dear. Oh dear.”

He carried her up the stairs, her cousin close on his heels. “Which room is yours?”

Bethany pointed. “That one.”

He opened the door, crossed the room, and set her gently on the bed.

“I’m all muddy, Hawk.”

“It’ll wash.” He turned around. “I’ll go for the doc. See that she stays put.”

At the door, he glanced back one more time. He’d been all set to make things right between them, but now it would have to wait. And if there was anything really wrong with Bethany —

No, it didn’t bear thinking about.

Bethany watched as Doc Wilton turned from the washbasin, drying his hands on a towel. When he was done, he rolled the sleeves of his white shirt down from his elbows, straightened his tie, and adjusted his eyeglasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Well, my girl. I don’t find anything wrong with you that a good rest won’t cure. You’ve got quite a lump on your head, but that’s the worst of it.”

She’d known as much before he’d come to see her.

“You’d best not do any riding for a while, just in case. It’s possible you could be in the early stages of pregnancy. Many women are prone to dizziness and fainting when expecting.”

She felt her cheeks flush. “I’m not expecting.”

“Maybe not. But it could be too early to tell. Better to be cautious.”

Her heart constricted. She could promise the doctor that she wasn’t with child. She might not know much about the intimacies of marriage, but she knew she couldn’t get pregnant on her own.

“I’ll be going now. You stay in bed a day or two. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

She nodded, unable to answer over the lump in her throat.

The door closed behind the doctor. It opened again a moment later and Hawk looked in. “How’re you feeling? Doc said you’re going to be fine.”

“I got a bump on the head is all.”

“You had me worried.” He sat on a chair near the bed. “Bethany . . .” He paused and his gaze dropped to his boots.

“Yes?”

“There’s something I’ve been needing to say to you. We’ve made . . . No, I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I don’t want to keep on making them.”

Apprehensive, she gave her head a slow shake, not wanting to hear what might hurt. Maybe he was leaving Montana. Maybe he wanted that annulment. Maybe he never wanted to see her again.

“When you were at the Circle Blue last week, I should have told you. I meant to tell you, only . . . only I got angry and acted like a fool again.”

Don’t say anything bad. I couldn’t bear it
.

“I love you, Bethany.”

The lightheadedness returned. The room began to spin.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, after the way I’ve treated you, but I’d like you to come home. I’d like us to start over, you and me. Not because of the promise I made to your parents, but because of the promise I made to God, that I would love and cherish you for the rest of my days. I didn’t know how much I loved you when I made that promise, and I didn’t really know the God I made the promise to. But I . . . I want to keep it. Do you think you could learn to love me?”

The smile began in her heart, then appeared on her lips. “You
are
a fool.” She took hold of his hand. “I’ve loved you from the start.”

They sat in silence, staring at each other. And then she was in his arms, her face buried against his neck as he whispered again his words of love. She clung to him, not out of desperation, but with a thrill for the joy she had found with him.

She kissed the underside of his jaw, then worked her way up to his mouth. Gently, tenderly, she sought to acquaint herself once again with the sweetness of his kisses.

When at last they drew apart, he looked into her eyes. “Will you come back to the Circle Blue with me today?”

“Yes,” came her breathless reply. “It’s where I belong.”

“What about the bakery?”

“Mr. Grant doesn’t need my help. Maybe he’ll want to buy it from me.” She smiled. “We can worry about that later. For now, I just want to go home.”

THIRTY-FOUR

Marriage, Bethany decided in the weeks that followed their reconciliation, was a profoundly wonderful institution. At least that was true when a woman was fortunate enough to love her husband and be loved by him in return.

A favorite part of her days was when she learned something new about Hawk. For instance, his facial expressions were not as inscrutable as she’d once thought. When he was impatient, his right eyebrow developed a tick. When he teased her, the slightest of smirks tugged the corners of his mouth; she couldn’t help but wonder how often she’d missed that.

She’d also learned that Hawk knew about many things besides cattle and ranching. His interests were wide and varied. His parents had seen to it that their son received a good education. They seemed, from the things he told her about them, much the same as her parents — loving, kind, patient, and devoted to God. And though his loss had happened thirteen years earlier, he understood those moments when she missed her parents beyond words.

As she lay in bed one morning in mid-October, waiting for the dawn, she thought how right her mother had been about love. What Bethany had felt for Hawk five months earlier hadn’t had deep roots. What she had called love had been more about her getting what she wanted, about pleasing herself, not about caring for another person. It wasn’t a pleasant revelation. Thankfully, she and Hawk were learning about love — the deep-rooted kind — together.

An answer to her parents’ prayers.

She rolled onto her side. Her husband was little more than a darker shadow in the still-dark bedroom.

“You’re awake early,” he said in a morning-gruff voice.

She moved closer, laying her head on his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s all that early.”

“You’re right. We’ll need to leave for town soon. Your cousin wants to get an early start.”

“I’m going to miss her.”

“Mr. Grant won’t.”

Bethany laughed softly, picturing the rotund baker. “No, he won’t. Those two are like oil and water.”

“I’m surprised Beatrice stayed in Sweetwater as long as she did. Once you came back to the Circle Blue — ” he kissed her forehead — “there wasn’t much to keep her there. Except maybe to give Mr. Grant more grief. I think she’s enjoyed that a lot.”

She heard his smile even though she couldn’t see it.

He kissed her again, this time on the lips, one of those long, slow kisses that stole her breath away. But at last he released her and rolled to sit at the side of the bed. “I’ll build up the fire in the kitchen.”

She swallowed a sigh, thinking how nice it would be to stay in bed — the both of them — and snuggle another hour or two. But he was right. They had to hurry.

Her cousin Beatrice, Bethany decided as she watched the hired driver load trunks onto the back of the carriage, would have made a formidable drill instructor in the army.

“You be careful with that, young man. That trunk holds items that can never be replaced. Memories of my cousin and his wife.”

“I’m being careful,” the fellow snapped in reply. “If you’d leave me be, it’d get done faster.”

Beatrice, her face grown pink with indignation, turned toward Bethany. “I shall be so glad to return to civilization where people exhibit a few more manners.”

Bethany couldn’t hold back a smile. “You don’t fool me, cousin. You’ll miss being here.”

She knew her words were true. Her cousin had enjoyed her mornings in the bakery — irritating Mr. Grant, waiting on customers, training a girl to take over her job. She’d enjoyed her afternoons even more when she’d entertained the womenfolk of Sweetwater, holding court as only Beatrice Worthington could.

“All your new friends will miss you too.”

“As I shall miss them. But as much fun as it’s been, I’m looking forward to being home and surrounded with my own things. Heaven knows, the house will be at sixes and sevens under Harvey’s supervision. I love that man to distraction, but he has no understanding of what it takes to run our household.”

“Few would.” Bethany smiled, thinking of the four-room cabin she called home and how thankful she was not to have the complications of maids, housekeeper, butler, underbutler, cooks, livery boys, gardeners, and who-knew-how-many-other servants it took to maintain the Worthington estate.

Beatrice checked the watch pinned to her bodice. “Where is that husband of yours? If he doesn’t come soon, I shall miss telling him good-bye.”

“He said he wouldn’t be long.” She glanced toward the sheriff ’s office. “Look. There he comes now.”

Hawk strode down the boardwalk, his long gait eating up the distance. When he saw both women looking in his direction, he raised a hand in a wave.

“Oh, my. I hope I won’t begin to cry.” Her cousin sniffed as she pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her traveling gown. “I’ve grown so fond of you both.”

“You promised to come again and bring Harvey with you.”

“Indeed we shall. Perhaps by the time we do so, there will be a new little Chandler for me to fuss over. That would be a delight.” She raised her voice. “Hawk, you almost missed my departure.”

“Not a chance, Cousin Beatrice.” He stepped through the open gate. “Is everything loaded in the carriage?”

“Everything but the bag your beautiful bride is holding.”

He took the satchel from Bethany’s hand. “I’ll take care of it for you. I imagine you want it with you.”

“Indeed, I do.”

As Hawk moved toward the carriage, Beatrice turned to Bethany and embraced her. “God bless you, my dear girl.”

“He has.”

“I know. I know. That’s why I can leave without regret.” She kissed Bethany’s cheek. “Do keep me apprised of what happens with the bakery. I feel quite certain Mr. Grant will buy it before the year is out.”

Hawk returned in time to receive a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek from Beatrice. “You’ll write to us,” he said when she released him.

“Of course. And I’ll expect regular correspondence from you both.” She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “Now I shall be off. Take care of each other.” She bustled toward the carriage, not waiting for Hawk or the driver to help her inside. Once settled, she waved her handkerchief at them. “Good-bye, my dears.”

Hawk put his arm around Bethany’s shoulders. “You’ll be in our prayers.” Moments later, they watched as the Worthington carriage drove out of Sweetwater, remaining near the gate until the vehicle disappeared from view.