Without Words (16 page)

Belle waved her off. “You go ahead and don’t worry about anything except getting back in time to eat. I know you have a lot to think about.”

Pangs of guilt didn’t override the need to be alone. Hassie held her gait to a walk until she was past the first field of knee-high wheat then she ran, wishing for hills and trees, places to hide. Past the fence that separated pasture from cultivated fields, she spied a slight dip in the land and slowed. The slight hollow wasn’t much of a hiding place, but it would have to do.

The slate made a seat of sorts to protect the blue dress from grass stains and dirt. She sat with her knees drawn up, arms around them. A cricket chirped nearby. The scent of warm earth hung in the air. Wispy clouds drifted across a milky blue sky.

Even Gunner had deserted her. What would happen to him when she married? If Ehren Kulp and those other men wanted a dog, they would already have one.

If Gunner stayed here, the next time Collie had a season, Gabe would shoot him, or Belle would wring his neck. Gabe would sell Brownie and give her the money. Give her husband the money.

Footsteps whispered through the grass behind her. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Here. Sit on this, and you can talk to me,” Bret said, dropping down beside her.

She couldn’t talk, and if she could, wouldn’t want to talk to him, but after a moment she took the bandana he held out, spread it on the ground, and shifted her bottom onto it and off the slate. The pencil was in the grass somewhere. If she changed her mind about talking to him, she’d search for it.

“You don’t have to marry him, you know,” Bret said. “If you don’t like him, turn him away. There will be others.”

She shrugged.

Plucking the chalk pencil out of a tuft of grass, Bret held it out. “Tell me what you want. Talk to me, Hassie.”

She grabbed the pencil.
“HASSIE?”

“I figure if Belle and Gabe can use your given name as if they’ve known you for years, I might as well too.”

And he’d be leaving soon, not needing to be formal and keep her at arm’s length. She dropped the slate and pencil, rose, and walked away.

The man who had avoided her more often than not for the last six weeks followed. When she stopped, he held out the slate and pencil. “Tell me what you want. If you want to go back to the Petty farm, I’ll take you. You’ll have the two hundred I owe you. If that’s what you want, you can get by for a year or so on that, find someone you really want to marry.”

She took the slate finally.
“You owe me nothing. I owe you. It doesn’t matter. I will marry him.”

“Half the Hammerill money is fair, and so is subtracting fifty dollars for expenses. Two hundred is a good round number.”

Hassie finally dared look at him. He didn’t look angry or cold but determined.

“We both know you don’t want to marry him, and Belle’s glad for your company. Wait. Someone better will come along. Someone you like.”

She shrugged again.

He rapped his knuckles on the slate, almost knocking it out of her grip. “Talk to me.”

“They’re all the same. I will marry him.”

“All the same? You know better than that. The one that yapped at you non-stop isn’t the same as the one who could hardly look you in the eye and say a word. The old gray-hair isn’t the same as the short fellow who’s still wet behind the ears, and none of them is the same as Kulp with his half a dozen children.”

“5.”

Bret’s brows furrowed. He stared at the single number on the slate as if he had never learned to count. She added, “only” in front of it and “children” after it.

They stood in silence so brittle Hassie thought any sound, even so slight as the cricket starting up again, would shatter it, and he would leave. Or ask again.

Her fingers twitched with the desire to answer his question, but why admit she wanted something impossible? At least this way she was only wretched, not humiliated too.

“Do you really want to work in some menial position?” he asked finally. “If you’d rather do that, maybe we could find you something like at the hotel, but something safe with decent people.”

Her fingers twitched again. A position would be better than marrying, but after what had happened in Werver, she couldn’t face trying that again. She shook her head.

The silence weighed on her, more pressing than continued questions. Finally she wrote,
“I want to go with you.”

He barely glanced at the words. Cold gray eyes bored into hers. “That’s too bad because you’re not going to.”

“I know.”

“Why the devil would you think such a thing? You know what it was like with Hammerill and Jensen. It was brutal, dangerous, and it can be worse.”

She touched the words already on the slate.
“I know.”

“Come winter, I go home to family. That leaves you exactly where you are now, except without Belle and Gabe to help you. Is that what you want?”

She didn’t try to answer, turned her back on him, and started back toward the house. She should get back and help with supper. She climbed through the fence into the wheat fields. And then she ran, ran as if Zachary chased her again. Ran as if she could escape even the memory of false hope and foolish dreams.

B
RET TOOK A
few steps as if to go after Hassie then stopped and watched her duck through the fence rails, take off running on the other side. Soon she was just a small blur of color racing down the lane beside the field, and then—gone.

What could he do with her, shake her until she showed some sense? Even if she didn’t want to marry again so soon, how could she say she wanted to go back on the trail?

Hell, moving constantly hunting men wasn’t what
he
wanted. His life was supposed to be Mary, family and children, friends and neighbors, the farm. Not dust, dirt, and danger. Not men like Rufus Petty and Ollie Hammerill.

After days on the trail with Hammerill and Jensen, Hassie had been half-dead when they reached the first town, so exhausted she never knew she had a man in bed with her that night.

Things would only get worse from now until fall brought relief. Soon the summer heat would suck moisture out of every tissue. Insects would torture man and beast alike.

Trying to talk to her would be a waste of breath and time. The woman was so lacking in sense she didn’t want to marry again, but she
hummed
doing menial labor in a hotel, although at least she didn’t claim to want more of that.

He’d done all he could. Belle was enthused about the marriage effort. Let her take it from here. Come first light tomorrow, he’d saddle up, pack up, and get back to business.

Supper was a quiet affair. The children were tired and cranky, the adults just tired. No one looked surprised when Bret said he’d be leaving in the morning. No one argued. Bret excused himself as soon as he could and headed out into the night.

He bedded down on bare ground far from the house or barn. A good night’s rest would make an early start in the morning easier. Except neither his body or mind planned to cooperate. He considered getting up and walking the fields, but instead lay quiet, staring at clouds silvery with reflected light from the moon and stars, and mentally arguing with Hassie Petty.

An argument with a woman who couldn’t argue back should be easy to win, but that was part of the problem. She’d probably never won an argument in her life. Never been able to make one.

The dog. She’d stopped him from shooting the dog the first day he’d laid eyes on any of them, and she’d been right about that. Even so....

He didn’t know whether her father had died before or after she lost her voice, but obviously he’d left her and her mother with no support. The Grimes fellow had wanted the mother enough to take Hassie too but had shoved her off on Petty as soon as the mother died. Cyrus Petty, old and drunk. Rufus Petty, mean and criminal.

Then along came Bret Sterling, who didn’t bother to ask her what she wanted, just ordered her off that farm, left her at the hotel, dressed her in men’s clothing and dragged her off after a bounty or two and then here to Gabe and Belle. And to a husband, whether she wanted another one or not.

Bret turned restlessly on the unyielding ground. A shadow loomed over him, blocking out the sky. A cold nose bumped his neck.

“I’m not even asleep much less dreaming, so you can quit your fooling,” Bret said, sitting up and grabbing Gunner by the neck.

He expected a growl but got a whine as the dog sat then eased down at the edge of the blankets.

“Collie turn you out?”

Bret settled back down, fingers of one hand still woven in Gunner’s wiry coat. Talking to a dog, especially talking to a dog as if expecting an answer, had to be a very bad sign. Then again, who was around to hear?

“She wants to go back out on the trail with me. She doesn’t have to marry Kulp. She could wait and find someone better, but no, it’s Kulp and misery or us and misery. And when I say ‘us’ I mean it. If I have to rope you and drag you off tomorrow, you’re coming. You’re not welcome here.”

Bret stretched a little, finally feeling sleep coming on. “Not only that, you owe me. This business tonight proves you’ve been lying for weeks about waking me when the dream starts, so you owe me at least four dozen rabbits.”

The dog sighed and rolled over. Bret fell asleep, his last thought of Hassie running with her arms out and the real smile on her face. She wasn’t wearing trail clothes but the green dress. The skirt swirled. Bare legs flashed.

B
RET WAS LEAVING
this morning. Flipping, burning, and roiling, Hassie’s stomach reflected her state of mind. She left the privy knowing she couldn’t eat breakfast and unsure if she could help Belle prepare it.

Head down, lost in the darkness of her own unhappiness, she was unaware of Bret’s presence until his hand closed around her upper arm, and he pulled her around the side of the house.

“Why do you want to come with me?”

Her heart leapt, started banging away double time. Why would he ask such a thing? The slate was in the house, and she didn’t want to go get it. “To be free.”

He glared at her. “You know what I think? I think there’s nothing wrong with your voice. You just speak Greek on purpose to drive me crazy.”

“I’m sorry.” This time she only mouthed it.

“No, you’re not. You’re pleased with yourself because you win. You can come, but only if we get a few things straight first.”

She could go with him? If he didn’t still have a hard hold on her arm, she might have fallen, the wave of relief that flooded through her was so strong. A thrumming, buzzing joy followed.

“You know you can’t come back here in the fall and pick up where you left off. People make assumptions about a man and woman traveling together. Kulp will make assumptions.”

Good. She didn’t want to so much as see Ehren Kulp or any of those other men ever again.

“That means we’ll have to find something else for you come fall, something that may not be as good. I’m still heading home to Missouri come first snow, and I can’t take you there.”

She knew that. Belle had been clear about what the Sterlings were like. Like Mama’s family, they’d slam the door in her face.

“You have to do what I tell you, no matter what. If I say stay put, you stay put. No more running out on gangplanks because you think I need help.”

She bobbed her head frantically, afraid a single nod wouldn’t do.

“You’re going to stop that fake smile business. I’m not some ogre who needs appeasing.”

Her breath caught. He looked very much like an ogre who needed appeasing at the moment. Without thought, she started to force a smile, caught herself, and pressed her lips together.

“That’s better. The same goes for running around trying to do things that are too much for you. Anything heavier than your saddle, I’ll do the lifting. You can curry and groom to your heart’s content.”

She gave another small nod, waited.

“You’re going to have to learn a few things to take care of yourself.”

She had no idea what that meant and didn’t care. She bobbed her head again.

“All right, I’ll explain to Gabe and Belle and apologize over breakfast. You don’t need to help with that.”

He let go of her arm. She waited for more orders, but he just muttered, “Go on, get.”

Unable to contain herself, she spun in place, hugged him, and ran inside.

Gabe and Belle didn’t take the news well.

“You can’t be serious,” Belle said after Bret announced he was taking Hassie with him. “Do you think if she rides all over the country with you for another five, six months, you can bring her back here and the men who are interested now will feel the same?”

“No,” Bret said. “I know she can’t come back here. She knows it. We’ll find something else come fall.”

“Something else?” Belle’s voice rose shrill. “What else? Where do you think you can just leave a woman when you’re through with her?”

“Belle. I think the children are finished with their breakfasts.” In contrast to his wife, Gabe spoke in soft, low tones, and with visible effort Belle got hold of herself.

She rose, wiped the children’s hands and faces, and shooed them outside. Without another word, she began clearing the table. Hassie gathered her own empty plate and Bret’s only to be shooed like the children.

“You need to pack,” Belle said. “I’ll do this.”

Unsure, Hassie glanced at Bret.

“She’s right,” he said. “You get your things. I’ll saddle up.” He headed for the door, hesitated there. “There’s room in the packs for a dress and whatever you need with it. Packie can stand that much more.”

As soon as the door closed behind the men, Belle stopped fussing with the dishes and followed Hassie into the children’s bedroom. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. How can you trade a secure future for—nothing?”

Hassie didn’t try to answer. All she wanted to do was get out of the blue dress and into shirt and trousers, pack everything she’d brought here, and race outside so Bret wouldn’t have to wait a minute for her.