16

The ride home and a thorough curry of Hunter’s sweat-dampened coat tempered Joseph’s frustration. He still didn’t understand why Hannah couldn’t have held her tongue as he’d requested, but what was done was done. They would deal with the consequences as they came. He filled his lungs with the resolution to be patient and pushed into the cabin. All was silent and still. He’d taken his time with his return, and with caring for the horse—Hannah should have been home already.

Joseph crouched at the fireplace to poke dead logs. Charred, they crumbled at his prodding. Much like the cascade of emotions within him. Somehow the cabin felt even emptier than before Hannah’s coming. “What am I doing?” He couldn’t wait. He’d finish looking after the stock and if she wasn’t back by then, he’d go search for her.

A forest could change a lot in a few years. Trees stretched taller and trails overgrew. Maybe she had gotten lost.

Unable to shove aside his doubts that Hannah could have found her way back if she wanted to, Joseph hurried with his chores. Not having a milk cow shaved off quite a lot of time, and he didn’t bother searching out eggs. After throwing some feed to the chickens, he headed for the mare’s pasture. As soon as he finished checking on her, he could saddle Hunter again and try to find Hannah’s trail.

The sun lengthened over the pasture and rugs of emerald grass.

The mare walked the length of the fence, head down as though hunting for another morsel to taste, but her focus was not on the grass. Heavy breathing flared her nostrils, and she released an airy knicker.

Joseph slowed.

Her steps betrayed discomfort. She paused and gave her head a low shake.

“Is that foal coming tonight?” Joseph’s voice sounded hollow against the backdrop of silence. He didn’t enjoy the quiet anymore. Too empty.

“I think that is for certain.”

Joseph pivoted, and his chest seized with relief.

Hannah sat not ten feet away against an old oak, her gaze steadfast on the mare. She tucked the hem of her gown down to hide her feet.

He cleared the tension from his throat. “Why didn’t you fetch me?”

Hannah still refused to look at him. “You’re not needed here.”

By the mare…or by her?

Yes, the mare probably fared well enough without him, but he wouldn’t mind being needed by someone. Maybe that added to the loneliness of late. He wasn’t really needed here. Andrew wasn’t a born or raised frontiersman, but he would make do with Rachel at his side. And they had the children.

Joseph frowned. Is that why he worked so hard on both farms? Not because he was needed…but because he wanted to feel needed? He rubbed one calloused palm over the other. What if Hannah was the only one who really did need him? To find her brothers. And then?

“Mind if I watch with you?”

She folded her arms and tucked her knees up. “It’s your farm. Your mare.”

Yes it was. He sat beside her and stretched out his legs. His hat bumped the tree and he plopped it to the ground. Arms folded to match hers, he settled in to wait.

Not only silence, but peace gradually settled between them. Or maybe just acceptance. He didn’t dare ask her what brooded behind her pretty eyes. Probably what Cyrus Acker had said about Myles. His words had been cruel. Even if they were the least bit true.

The breeze teased the grass and high branches of the trees. Shadows continued to lengthen. As twilight darkened the fields, coolness seeped into the air.

Hannah shivered. She wore no shawl.

“Why don’t you head to the cabin and get some rest?” Joseph suggested. She was probably plenty tired. He was.

She shook her head.

Arguing with her never got them anywhere, so he pulled his arms from his coat. “Then put this on.”

For the first time since his arrival, Hannah glanced at him. “Then you’ll be cold.”

He dropped the coat onto her lap. He had enough worries to keep him warm.

Unmoving, Hannah stared at the coat. She prodded it with her finger, her face sad, and then slipped the sleeves on backwards.

Again silence filled the inches between them. Elsewhere, crickets sang and the breeze whispered.

The mare laid down and whinnied. A short time later the foal made its appearance.

Joseph relaxed into the tree as the gangly filly struggled to her feet and became acquainted with her mother. Fascinated with the foal, Joseph hardly noticed Hannah slump against him. When he looked at her face, the moonlight revealed dark lashes on her cheeks. Poor thing was exhausted. He should get her to the cabin and put her to bed, but instead he sat there, watching her, enjoying her closeness, her touch. Don’t fool yourself. She might need his help to find her brothers. But she didn’t need him.

Joseph slipped his arms around and under her, but she hardly stirred. She moaned, but didn’t open her eyes as he carried her to the cabin and laid her on the bed. He drew his coat from her arms and tucked the quilts to her chin. “Sleep well.”

Good thing she was asleep, or she’d probably balk at that, too.

Back outside, he moved the new mother and foal to the barn for safekeeping in case the afterbirth attracted wolves or other predators. In the lamplight the filly’s coat showed more chestnut than had initially been apparent.

Joseph smiled. What if he made a gift of her to Hannah? She’d always admired the sire. Perhaps the filly would cover some of his wrongs and give Hannah a reason to stay. Because more and more, he hoped she would.

~*~

Hannah lay still, not wanting to wake Joseph. He’d rolled over during the night and his arm now lay tight against hers. His breath heated her neck, his face tipped her way. She dared a glance, only to find his face inches from hers in the early morning glow. The open doorway gave very little light to study him, but that was for the best. Just the slope of his relaxed jaw and his parted lips threatened to be her undoing.

Hannah looked away. The quilt already held her on the edge of perspiring, she didn’t need any more warmth rushing through her. Or a longing she could never fulfill.

Awaken him or not, she needed to move. Last night had been bad enough when she’d fallen asleep against his shoulder and Joseph had swept her up in his arms. Whether for the sake of her pride, weary limbs, or the feel of being held by him, she’d pretended to remain asleep, only to lay awake for a long while afterward.

Motions steady and slow, Hannah rolled away from him, breaking contact. She slipped her feet to the floor. Last night Joseph had only removed her moccasins. If she could keep from tripping on her hem, she’d soon escape this room. If only she could escape thoughts of him so easy.

Joseph gave a soft groan.

Hannah froze and glanced back.

No movement. His breathing again deepened.

She tiptoed out the door. After a drink of water, Hannah stepped into the hazed sun rising up beside the barn. Splashes of light spilled over ugly black marks strewn across the wall. A single word written in charcoal and ash.

“Joseph.” Her voice squeaked. She looked toward the pasture where the mare had foaled. No sign of them. Or Hunter. She should go see whether they sheltered at the edge of the trees or along the barn, but instead she retreated. “Joseph.”

Charcoal meant fire. Torches. Like the ones that had burned her family’s home.

“Joseph!”

His stumbling footsteps hurried out. “What is it?”

A low growl merged with harsh words on Joseph’s tongue. He pushed past her.

“What is it?” Hannah hurried after him. “Who did this?”

“I can very well guess who was involved.” He rushed to the barn and brushed his hand over a long streak spearing downward. His palm came away black.

“What does it mean?”

He spun to her. “You know very well what this means. It means they could have just as easily rode in and burned down the barn or the cabin with us in it. It means—” He broke off. Understanding touched his eyes. “You don’t know what it says, do you?”

Her head vibrated with her attempt to shake it. She had learned to speak Papa’s language better than Mama’s, but knew nothing of reading or writing.

“Tory.” Joseph stared at his blackened palm and then wiped it on the leg of his breeches. “It says Tory.”