18

Hannah wove around trees and scampered over logs, heart in her throat. The temptation to turn back grew with the distance put between her and the Garnet farm. Perhaps she never should have left. Setting off on her own had been the right thing to do, the brave thing to do, but she felt anything but brave as the sun began it’s descent. Lost. Scared. Overwhelmed with the task of finding the truth of Myles and Samuel’s fates. Fearful of what that truth might be. Not brave. “What am I doing?”

She should have at least taken time for better provisions. The cornbread would last her little more than a couple of days, and that was if she only nibbled. Despite feeling ill with uncertainty, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and Joseph set fire to her appetite. Willpower would be required not to inhale all her food when she stopped for the night.

Willpower was already in full use to not turn back.

Following along the river did not make for the smoothest of terrain or directness of route, but she didn’t dare wander far from it for fear she would lose her way completely. She had never been much farther east, but the Mohawk River would lead to the Hudson River, and on to Albany. That much she knew.

Fabric ripped and tugged Hannah to a halt. She glanced at her torn hem, snagged on the jagged stub of a broken branch. She ripped it away. What had she been thinking wearing heavy skirts? The crackling of twigs and dry leaves made her pulse race. Something moved through the forest. Not toward her, but paralleling her trail.

And, of course, she’d left to wander through the wilderness without any form of weapon. Joseph left his musket in the cabin. Why hadn’t she taken it? Or a knife? Or even an old pistol? She’d let Joseph Garnet under her skin and had thrown any common sense to the wayside. If she died out here after being mauled by a bear or gobbled by a wolf, it would all be his fault.

Not that he’ll ever know what happened to me. Which brought no peace of mind.

She kept walking, not daring to stop even as dusk lowered its haze over the forest. Not only had she left without a weapon, but also without means to start a fire and no more protection than the woolen shawl to ward off the growing chill as the sun fell away. She had no choice but to keep moving.

Or go back.

Joseph had promised to help her. If he was a man with any honor, nothing should affect that.

Hannah’s feet faltered and she glanced back. She was tired and the comfort of a real bed beckoned. A real bed that Joseph warmed.

But if she went back, Joseph would see how utterly weak she was.

She stood at an impasse, eyes watering.

The rush of branches being brushed aside and trod underfoot broke through the stillness of the woods. Then all fell quiet. The birds ceased their evening serenade.

The sudden silence of the forest only encouraged the loud thudding within her chest. Hannah crouched low and felt the ground for something she could use as a club or spear, but never looked away from the dark shadows and looming trees where the noise emanated. Hairs bristled on her arms. Something stood there, just out of sight, watching her. She sensed it.

Hannah wrapped her fingers around a broken length of branch. Her fingertips met on the other side, but barely. She tried to bring it up, but it dragged with unexpected weight—the thing was still attached to half a tree!

Something moved toward her. A dark shadow.

She dropped her would-be weapon and crept backward, not wanting to remove her gaze from what approached. She could make out nothing in the looming shadows, but her imagination did not lack vivid details. She hated the woods at night. Had always hated them.

Pain ripped into her ankle, and she leapt away from the thorny vine. In the wrong direction. The briars scratched up her legs, soft linen undergarments providing little protection. A scream broke from her as she fell into the thicket. Pinpricks of fire bit into her backside.

~*~

Joseph dropped Hunter’s reins and charged in the direction of the scream. It sounded close. Another scream vaulted him over a thick log. This shriek held less fear and more agony.

“Hannah?” It was hard to see anything in the gathering darkness.

She answered with a squeak of pain and a moan.

“Where are you?” He couldn’t be far now.

“Right…” She gasped sharply. “Here.” Buried in the middle of a tangle of new and old blackberries canes, she sat, hem of her gown to her knees, bloodied palms extended. “Help,” she squeaked.

Joseph stomped down the nearest vines with his boots and reached past her extended hands to her wrists. Her eyes clamped closed as he hoisted her upward. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she muttered, but didn’t pull away.

Relief made his head light. “What got into you, running off without telling me? I have enough troubles without needing to ride out after you.”

Her body trembled, and she tried to pull away.

Joseph tightened his hold. “I should haul you back to the cabin and lock you up again until planting’s done, as we agreed.”

She shoved away, wincing as she did so. “Go back to your fields and forget about our agreement. I don’t need you.”

“I definitely got that impression when I arrived.” He let the sarcasm roll, still reeling from what her screams had done to his insides. Much too affected.

They pinned each other with their glares.

Hannah’s taut jaw drew a nice line, and her lips pursed with a determined pout. As pretty as her eyes looked with the last hint of daylight swimming in them, it was hard not to lower his gaze. Especially with how close he still held her. His heart rate refused to slow. But then, only inches, and he could taste the warmth of her lips.

Would that be so wrong? She was his wife.

Her face tipped up, shortening the distance he needed to cross. Her gaze shifted to his mouth. Did she share his thoughts, his curiosity? Would it be hard to fall in love again? Would she fill the gap that Fannie’s death left? Would she learn to love him in return, leaving them free to explore every aspect of this marriage?

Or would even hoping for such be a sin?

A lie?

The truth of her father’s death wedged between them.

Joseph broke his hold. “I should start a fire before it gets too dark.” He turned, not wanting to see the confusion in her eyes turn to hurt. The low light of a campfire would hopefully hide anything he felt. One thing he’d learned from his marriage to Fannie was how nice it was to be loved by a woman, and to have her faithfully by his side. Watching Fannie carry and then give birth to his children had swept him with such an overwhelming sense of wonder and love. For a short moment he’d let himself hope that feeling would again be possible. The loss of that hope tunneled a larger hole in his center.

He would not forget himself again.

Protect her. Help her. But he could not let himself love Hannah Cunningham...Garnet.

~*~

Wrapped in the large shawl, Hannah huddled near the flickering orange and red flames, trying to glean what little heat the new fire offered. Not that the warmth did much for the stinging of her hands and ankles. She tried to examine her scarlet streaked palms. If she’d known Joseph was so near, she would have continued screaming and not tried to pull herself out of the blackberry briar.

Thankfully, Joseph came prepared. Flint and steel, bedrolls, food—almost as though he had suspected it would take longer to find her. Or he planned to go with her. So hopeful of the latter, Hannah was afraid to ask which.

“Here.” Joseph set the last log into place, and then reached for the leather canteen behind him. “Hold out your hands.”

She did as directed, and a stream of cool water trickled over her palms.

Joseph braced her wrist and turned her palm to the firelight. “A couple of the thorns are still imbedded.” He reached for one, but with far too much pressure to the rest of her hand.

Hannah flinched her hand away.

“I’m sorry.” He stood. “I’m not any good at this.”

“Your nails are worn flat. I’ll probably have better luck.” The tiny slivers were almost impossible to see in the firelight. She picked the thorns from her hands as best she could.

Joseph stood by with a strip of cloth for each palm. Though not perfectly gentle, his attempts to wrap her hands without causing any more pain seemed earnest.

“Thank you.” She’d be wrong not to express gratitude. “Can I use more water?”

“As much as you want.” He motioned in the direction of the river. “We have an endless supply only yards away.”

She tried not to think of his close proximity as she bared her torn ankles.

Without a word, Joseph tucked her hem around her knees and slipped the moccasins from her feet. Then he took up the canteen again.

“Umm.” As with tending to her wounded arm, he appeared unaffected by her bare skin.

“What’s wrong?” He looked at her as though he honestly didn’t know. His hand warmed her knee.

“Nothing.” Other than the heat he stirred within her.

He didn’t look away.

“Umm, I was going to say that I while I appreciate you coming after me, I can’t go back with you. I can…”

His hand slid down the back of her calf, and her mind spiraled out of control. Hannah forced her thoughts off his hands and their ministrations. “I will no longer delay finding my brothers.” The sensation of Joseph’s nearness faded into the background with thoughts of Myles and what had been said. What if he was dead?

“We’re not going back.” Joseph poured the water across her ankle.

We? “What of your fields and family?” And the threat from his neighbors?

“I promised I would help you.”

Her heart skipped. With hope. With questioning. “After the planting, you said.”

“Plans change.” He grunted. “Besides, there isn’t much left. Andrew will manage.”

So engrossed in his proclamation, Hannah hardly felt the pressure of his fingers as he pulled a thorn from her leg. “Because of…” She couldn’t think of a single reason that would compel him to leave everything behind for her sake. Unless it was to be rid of her. Perhaps he only sought to redeem himself in the eyes of the community. If she were gone…

“Because I promised.”

And because she’d refused to wait. Little did he know that was more for his sake than her own. He probably suspected hearing of Myles’s possible execution drove her. And it did. It just wasn’t the only catalyst. “Do you think what that man said was true? About Myles?”

Joseph stared at her ankle as though searching for any more offending thorns, but his focus had turned inward. Probably trying to think of the kindest way to remind her how outspoken her brother could be, and how passionate he had been about her father’s loyalties. Almost six years fighting for an army he’d despised? Myles wouldn’t have made it. He wouldn’t have stayed. And if he had been caught trying to desert…

She clamped her eyes closed. “Never mind. You don’t need to say anything.”

He patted her knee. “Don’t give up so easily.” The tenderness in Joseph’s voice drew her eyes open. His mouth showed a thin smile.

Strange to think how strongly the urge to kiss him had been only minutes ago. He’d looked down at her with such gentleness, his lips parting…

“Acker was trying to upset you. You can’t trust what he said.”

She let the air seep from her lungs. “I’m not sure who or what to trust, what to hope for, anymore.”

“Hope in the God who created them, that He preserved them. And trust that I will do everything within my power to help you find both your brothers.”