11

The last kernels of corn rolled from the sack. Joseph remained crouched, but looked to the source of happy chatter near the cabin. Rachel and Nora walked together, long skirts swooshing, each with a little girl on their hip. Young James ran along with them, pausing to pick up rocks and twigs on the way to the large area of tilled soil prepared for the garden. Rachel had told him she and Nora would plant the remainder of it today while Hannah rested her arm.

Hannah stood in the cabin’s shadow, leaned against the door frame as she watched the other women. Her wound had mostly healed over the past few days and didn’t appear to bother her much, but she remained withdrawn. She appeared lonely. And sad.

Joseph rocked back on his heels. He didn’t want her to be unhappy here.

“As much as I admire and am somewhat envious of your ability to crouch in such a way for an extended time,” Andrew said from behind him, “I suggest we make some haste before the Sabbath arrives.”

Hannah glanced their way. Her chin lifted a degree before she pulled the door closed and hurried toward the paddock where the mare grazed. Joseph almost smiled at that. She hadn’t changed a bit when it came to her love of horses. He well remembered the way she had been, two long braids, wide brown eyes, arms laid over the rail fence as she watched the horses for hours. Sometimes when she was young, she’d venture into the pens and follow Hunter around—his much smaller, two-legged shadow.

Andrew’s crisp tones again pulled him from his thoughts. “While your wife is admittedly a becoming creature, she is no longer in sight, negating the need to stare as you do.”

Joseph stood and twisted to the man, only to be met by a grin.

“I must admit that if I knew you were this fond of the girl, I would have been significantly less concerned.”

“Don’t be so quick to get over your concern.” Joseph heaved the sack of corn seed over his shoulder.

“That was not attraction I saw on your face just then?”

Joseph kept walking, mostly because he wasn’t sure how to answer. He couldn’t deny Hannah had grown into a pretty thing, but she was still young and whether or not he was attracted had little bearing on their marriage.

Andrew kept pace until they met the plowed field. “Perhaps you will assist me in choosing a topic for my sermon tomorrow.”

Joseph stumbled to a halt. “Tomorrow is Sunday again? Already?” He hadn’t made near the progress he had intended this week.

“Already.”

“Then I suggest we stop talking and get busy.” He didn’t want to discuss Hannah any longer.

“You leave me to decide on a topic?” Andrew’s words held a good-humored warning. “The second book of Genesis comes readily to mind. ‘This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.’”

Joseph glared.

“‘Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.’”

Joseph fumbled for a retort. “If I knew the Bible as well as you, I’d suggest you base your sermon on a Scripture about not making your friends hate you.”

Andrew chuckled. “Perhaps the fifth chapter of Matthew? ‘Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him?’”

“It depends who has to do the agreeing. Because I don’t agree with you.” Joseph huffed out a breath. “How am I supposed to think of this as a real marriage? I mean, sure I hope I can—we can—someday. But she’s not too fond of me, and I’m…” Joseph shook his head, not sure how to continue. He stepped to the rock he had used to mark where he’d left off the evening before. He had planned to be done with this field already, and instead he’d only sown a third of it.

“Still mourning Fannie?” Andrew took a handful of kernels from his own pouch. “It has been less than a year. Seems longer, somehow.”

Much longer. The first days and weeks had stretched across endless hours. The shock. Dragging himself out of bed to see to the needs of his family and the farm, though he had hardly slept in the bed now empty of her warmth. The months had passed and gradually he’d become accustomed to the emptiness of both the house and himself.

“The pain will pass.” Andrew gripped his shoulder. “Give yourself, and Hannah, time.”

Joseph wasn’t sure time would have any effect on her.

“I have thought much on it throughout the week,” Andrew continued, “and despite my misgivings, I now wonder if perhaps Hannah’s coming is a tender mercy of the Lord.”

Joseph’s shin, still sore days later, begged to differ. There was not much tender about the woman. “How so?”

Kernels dropped one at a time from Andrew’s hand into the long straight valley of black earth.

“Or are you rethinking your statement?”

Andrew tipped his hat back with his wrist. “I believe Rachel is again with child.”

“But…” Martha was still so young. Fannie had not gotten pregnant again until she had weaned James. “Is she certain?”

Andrew raised a shoulder. “I am not even certain she knows. She has not spoken of it to me.”

“Then how do you know?” Joseph had been oblivious to Fannie’s maternity until she’d informed him.

“Her mood. She wearies quickly, and sleeps more. I know my wife.”

Better than Joseph had known his…either of them. The corners of his mouth turned down. He had loved Fannie and enjoyed her presence in his life, but he had always been a little envious of many facets of Rachel’s and Andrew’s affection.

“Do not concern yourself with the children. I know you have promised to help Hannah seek her brothers. If Rachel needs help before you’ve returned, I will speak to Nora or one of her sisters about minding James regularly.”

“No. I’ll speak with Nora myself.” She loved the children and would no doubt do what she could to help. Joseph clutched another handful of seed. What if Hannah decided to leave with her brothers? Recently, he had begun to consider Nora as a logical choice to help him raise his children. But now…

Now he had Hannah.

~*~

“Don’t touch that, James!”

Hannah slipped out between the rails of the fence.

Nora hurried after the little boy who had discovered hard clods of horse dung were excellent for throwing. Rachel had returned to the cabin a while ago with the baby, leaving the children in Nora’s care. Rachel’s little girl followed James’s example, reaching for a fresher mound. Nora left James and lunged for Sarah. The little boy then hurled another clod.

A smile tugged Hannah’s lips. Maybe she shouldn’t be amused at the child’s antics, but she found a strange sort of pleasure in the other woman’s frustration. Not that Hannah disliked Nora Reid—only the way she felt beside her. Insignificant. Crippled. And something else she didn’t quite recognize, but didn’t like in the slightest. A sort of uncomfortable burning in her stomach whenever the other girl spoke to Joseph.

It didn’t help that Nora filled out her dress just right, and her rich chestnut locks were in two braids swirled together on the back of her head in such a lovely fashion. She was so very feminine.

Unlike Hannah in her leggings and tattered shirt.

Nora was the wife Joseph would want. The mother his children needed. But he’s stuck with me. As was James.

Nora crouched with the little golden-haired girl balanced on one knee, while she pulled James close with her free hand and dusted off his fingers.

The jealousy dug deeper. Whether or not Joseph wanted her, their marriage—as secret as it was—made James her son. Even though she couldn’t hope to have Joseph’s heart, she might still win the boy’s affection. Hurrying across the yard, Hannah extended her good arm to James. “I’ll take him and wash him up.”

“Why don’t you let me? Joseph said you’re to rest.”

“I don’t care what Joseph says.” Hannah pulled James onto her hip and started toward the well. Her wound had scabbed over and hardly pained her anymore. Joseph had coddled her long enough.

“At least let me draw the water.” Nora stepped around her and set Sarah at the base of the well, freeing up both hands to drop the pail into the sheltered hole. A splash announced the depth of the water, and she soon produced the pail brimming with water.

Hannah perched James on her lap and reached for the water.

Nora beat her to it. “Let me.”

Hannah bit her tongue.

As soon as his hands were clean, James threw himself at his aunt, who kissed his sweet little head.

“I’ll go see if Rachel needs anything.” Hannah swallowed against the swelling in her throat as she hastened to the cabin. She opened the door to silence. A pot hung over the fire with whatever Rachel had been preparing for dinner, but otherwise there was no sign of her or the baby.

Hannah peeked her head into the darkened bedroom, planks now blocking most light from the broken window. Forms were laying on the bed, Rachel with Joseph’s little daughter cuddled close. Both appeared asleep. Not overly surprising with how weary Rachel looked that morning.

Back in the main room, Hannah stirred the soup—it seemed a staple in this house—and set bowls on the table. The men would need to be called in from the field soon. First she would better familiarize herself with the kitchen and what was on hand to cook with. Rachel and Nora had been preparing most of their meals, but Hannah hoped that would soon change. A barrel of ground corn sat under the shelves, and beside it nestled a sack of dried beans. A twin barrel held a coarse-ground wheat flour. On the shelf sat a can of honey, molasses, and—

“I don’t think Joseph hardly touched any of that this winter.” Rachel covered a yawn as she emerged from the bedroom. Sprigs of blonde hair pulled free from her braid and graced her flushed cheeks and neck. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the house was so quiet when I went to lay Martha down, I couldn’t help myself.”

Even the thought of sleep made Hannah ache for it. She hadn’t slept well at all the past week and could easily succumb to the comfortable mattress without Joseph’s presence beside her.

“You should find everything you need here, but if you can’t, just ask. I have a start of yeast at home I can bring you later. Joseph…” Rachel shook her head. “He was never very good at cooking for himself. Most days he comes to our house for supper, and I send him home something to eat the next day. Sometimes he’ll go to the Reids, but I think he’s more comfortable with us. I cooked for him for years before he married.”

Probably the reason Rachel had the children instead of the Reids. With the baby it was understandable as Rachel would have already been nursing her own when Martha was born, but James—

“I think you can make him happy.” Rachel crossed the floor to the fireplace where the spoon for the soup hung.

“What?” Hannah sputtered.

“Joseph needs someone. He’ll never admit it, but he’s no good at being alone. It was ideal when I married that Fannie could step in and fill this cabin with a woman’s presence, but she’s been gone almost a year now, and I think the silence of this place eats away at him.” Rachel looked back. “I might not agree with how your marriage to my brother came about, but that doesn’t mean I disagree with it.”

“Hardly a marriage.” Hannah pushed the lid back over the molasses and gathered spoons to set on the table. She bit her tongue, still sore from the last time she shouldn’t have spoken.

“Maybe not yet, but you could make it one.”

Not if that wasn’t what Joseph wanted.