An Unexpected Widow (The Colorado Brides Series) (8 page)

“Get everything you needed? The inkpot?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Not a thing.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Mr. Weaver.”

“All right, but we both know that’s a lie.”

It irked me that he was able to see through me so easily. I stewed in my turbulent thoughts the entire ride home, my mind playing out unpleasant scenarios. We owed hundreds of dollars all over town, and I had no idea how this would ever be repaid. Once at the house, I left my things in the wagon, desperately needing a moment to myself.

“I’ll get it all later.” I headed for the cornfield, not knowing what else to do.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll…be back.”

The stalks weren’t too high yet, and I wandered down a lane, my boots crunching over dried chunks of earth. Tears began to fall, as the floodgates opened. I’d been holding them in for two hours; the effort had been exhausting. At the end of the lane, far from the house, I fell to my knees, not caring about the condition of my dress. My body shook, and my lips quivered, while grief stole over me. I sobbed uncontrollably, my stomach clenching, over and over, until I ached.

“What’s wrong?”

Stunned by the intrusion, I wasn’t able to respond, having spiraled past that point moments earlier. Strong hands grasped my shoulders, and I found myself pressed against Nathan’s chest, his arms holding me securely.

“I knew something happened. What is it?”

“I…” I pushed him away, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “Can’t I have a moment of privacy?”

I’d hoped I would be able to regain my composure, but a fresh wave of tears came then, my chest heaving. He held me, although I didn’t want him to. It was unseemly to be in a stranger’s arms, but…we were alone and I needed comfort, having tried so hard over the weeks to be strong. In the end, I gave up and let him hold me while I cried, until there was nothing left. His tow shirt was soaked from my tears; the coarse quality of the material scratched my face.

He produced a handkerchief and used it, wiping away wetness from beneath my eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“I…shouldn’t say anything.”

“Stop that right now. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I found out…we have no money.”

To my astonishment, he laughed, “That’s all? I thought somebody died.”

My mouth fell open. “I have no money for wages. I have no money for…anything! We owe money everywhere. I had no idea we were so bad off.”

He shrugged. “That happens.”

His lack of sympathy was irritating. “I can’t pay you.”

“I figured.”

“How do you mean?”

“I haven’t been paid yet.”

“I thought Frank gave you wages?”

“No, ma’am. He’s waiting for the crops to come in.”

Our eyes met. “You don’t mind working for people who don’t pay you?”

“I’m living here for free, eating for free. It’s not a bad deal.” He smiled then, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “Once the crops come on, there’ll be money. You should take the extra eggs to town and sell ‘em. I could do that for you, if you want.” He dabbed my face, wiping away several wayward tears. “Haven’t you looked around, lady?”

Now I was confused. “What?”

“How many farmers do you see in these parts?”

“Not many.”

“No, ma’am. Most people are hunting for gold. It’s Pike’s Peak or bust. They’re not interested in tilling land and growing things. But, how are they gonna eat? They can’t wait for a shipment to come in. It’s not practical. People gotta eat now. Once winter comes, they’ll be sore outta luck. Most of those men will leave for the season. The crazy ones will stay.”

“I’m sorry, but what does that have to do with my situation?”

“You’re gonna have plenty of corn and potatoes. We’re doing a wheat field soon as well. There’ll be hay and wheat and corn. Those are things you can sell. The extras from the vegetable garden can be taken into town and sold. People are starved for fresh produce.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Your situation isn’t as dire as you think.”

I stared steadily at him, which was unladylike. I hadn’t noticed that my hand was on his thigh, but he had, as his gaze had lowered. Snatching it away, I sucked in a breath, finally feeling a small measure of control over my emotions. “I have to check on Frank. It’s past lunch time.” He got to his feet, reaching for me. “Thank you…Nathan. I appreciate your kind words.” Something flared in his eyes, setting my pulses racing in a peculiar way.

“My name sure sounds nice on your lips.”

I had struggled with grief, fighting to keep my equanimity. Now…I was faced with an entirely different dilemma—lust.

Chapter Eight

After finding out the truth about my finances, the upset didn’t last for long, which was strange. I avoided speaking about it with Frank, letting him believe that I remained unaware. He knew of the situation. His plans had been to pay off the debts after the harvest. I had to trust that my husband was astute enough to manage our affairs, and the last thing I wanted to do was confront him on this issue and question his judgment. I had other things to worry about…

My parents had sent a wheelchair that had originally come from England. It had been secondhand, which was fine by me, but Frank hated it. Nathan and Jerry had carried him outside, after Dr. Caldwell gave permission for such activities. He enjoyed being able to be outdoors to look at his fields, but someone had to push him, and the going was difficult, as the wheels stuck in the soil and ceased rotating. But I persisted in taking him out, wanting him to feel the sun upon his face, although he complained about the chair not being comfortable.

The first Sunday Frank joined me in church; I felt a measure of peace then that our lives might actually return to some form of order, although a new pastor now preached. Nathan and Jerry helped Frank into the wheelchair, pushing him to the church, but he had to be carried in. We arrived early enough to not draw attention, but people still stopped to stare.

Rhoda had made a beeline for us, her bonnet bouncing with each step. “Well, look at you! It’s so good to see you up and about, Mr. Clark.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Caldwell. If it wasn’t for your husband’s skill at healing, I wouldn’t even be here today.”

“Oh, bosh! You were doing just fine on your own.” She glanced at me. “How are you, Hannah? We missed you at tea last week.”

“I’m sorry. I plain forgot about that.”

“I understand. Perhaps you can come today?” She looked hopeful.

“I’m not sure.”

“You should go, darling. You needn’t fuss over me anymore than you already do.”

“I suppose, or Nathan can bring you home and come get me.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

Rhoda took a seat next to her husband, who nodded at me. I shouldn’t have, but I craned my neck, glimpsing rows filled with people, among them were miners and several of the parlour house ladies, who sat in the back. Sally Higgins and Adaline Ross were behind me. After the service, I waited for the congregation to file out, wondering how I would remove Frank from the church. To my horror, he had soiled himself, although he couldn’t feel it. I would not be able to attend the tea after all, as we needed to hurry home.

Pastor Bailey approached. “Mrs. Clark, Mr. Clark.” He shook Frank’s hand. “How are you today? Do you need help out?”

“I have someone coming.” Knowing that Frank had wet himself, I prayed this would go unnoticed. I glanced over my shoulder, curious about where Nathan was.

“You did a fine job,” said Frank. “Especially the sermon alluding to the Corinthians. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Why, that’s high praise. I know how much people miss you, Pastor Clark. I’m still so green behind the ears, I find I repeat myself too often.”

“Excuse me for a moment.” I rushed down the aisle and out the door, scanning the dusty street. Several wagons ambled by, followed by shouting. The miners were rowdy seven days a week, and Sunday was no exception. “Nathan!” Approaching the saloon, I waited, listening to laughter and music, while men drank and spent all their money. “Mr. Weaver!” It smelled of stale spirits, with a hint of wet wood. The doors suddenly swung outward.

“Yes?” He appeared, smiling. “The service over so soon?”

“It is. We have to go.”

“What’s wrong?”

He always seemed to know when I was stressed. “Um…there’s been a little accident, but…it’s fine.”

“I’ll get Jerry. Hold up a second. Meet me at the church.”

“I will.”

Frank was in discussion with the preacher, oblivious to the fact that he had made a mess of himself. Once Nathan and Jerry arrived, I hurried down the aisle. “Well, we’re good to go now. I have the boys.”

“Excellent. I’ve taken up enough of Pastor Bailey’s time.”

Nathan and Jerry labored to lift Frank, whose arms were around the men’s necks. “It’ll be a relief once these legs start working again,” he said, smiling.

“We say a prayer for your full recovery at every service,” said Pastor Bailey.

“Thank you so much for that.”

“It was good seeing you, Mrs. Clark.”

“It’s always a pleasure to come to town.”

Once Frank was seated in the wagon, Nathan was behind me, his mouth near my ear. “I see what you mean. He had an accident.”

“Yes, he did.” He helped me up the step. “Thank you.”

His expression was grave. “No thanks needed.”

Jerry remained in town, wanting to spend his time at the saloon. When we were home, Nathan carried Frank into the house, where I closed the curtains in the dining room and removed his clothes.

“You should’ve told me.”

I glanced at my husband. “I didn’t want to make a fuss in public.”

His smile had vanished. “I hate this!” Our eyes met. “I hate being an invalid. I hate what it’s doing to you.”

“It’s not doing anything to me.”

“You should hire someone to help you. All you do is tend to the laundry and me. There has to be more to life than chores.”

I sighed. “Oh, Frank.”

“Go find someone to help.”

He had the use of his arms, thereby being able to wash himself, but other matters were solely under my direction. “I’ll put up a notice, I suppose, the next time I’m in town.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Stop that.”

“Hannah, I might never have the use of my legs again. I might never feel anything…down there. I’ve been thinking of what a hardship this is, of how unfair. You wanted children. I won’t be able to give you children.”

I shrugged. “God has other plans for us, I guess.”

He grabbed my arm, dragging me to him. “I love you!” he whispered fiercely. “I hate to see you like this. I’m so dreadfully sorry.”

Tears flooded my eyes. “Please don’t be sorry. It was an accident.”

“But it’s ruined your life.”

“My life’s not ruined. It’s just…changed. I’m dealing with it one day at a time. I’m fine.”

He leaned against a pillow. “Maybe I should’ve died. In a way, it would have made things easier. You could’ve just found another husband and gotten on with your life instead of playing nursemaid to me.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. I have to make lunch. Now, let’s get these pants on you.”

But those words did stick somewhere in a dark part of my consciousness. They lingered in the space where all my unpleasant thoughts were, especially of the William’s. Not once had they come to the house to see Frank. He had been injured helping them with their barn, and they had never thought to stop by to see how we were doing. The anger I felt towards them frightened me, as it was such a strong emotion. It would come upon me at odd times, mostly after a long, tiring day…and there were far too many of those.

It would be another week before I began to feel a small measure of hope. While hanging clothing on the line, Nathan approached. He’d gone to town for supplies, but he hadn’t returned alone.

“I found someone to help you.”

I glanced over my shoulder, seeing a stout, dark-haired woman. She looked to be Hispanic. “Pardon?”

“This is Mrs. Hermosa. She’s a grass widow.”

“What on earth does that mean?”

“A divorcee.”

I gasped at his crudeness. “You have the manners of an ox, Mr. Weaver.”

“I certainly do. Can’t argue with you on that account.” He beamed from ear to ear. “She’s in need of room and board. I figure she could help you with the chores.”

“I won’t be able to pay her until the harvest.”

“She knows that.”

I glanced at Mrs. Hermosa. “I’m Hannah.”

“It’s good to meet you.” She shook my hand. Her accent was strong. “You have a pretty house.”

“Thank you.”

“Nathan says your husband is no good to walk.”

“No, he isn’t. He fell from a roof two months ago. He’s lucky to be alive.”

She nodded, her gaze straying to the clothing in my hand. “I can help you with that. I can do it for you.”

“If you want.” I glanced at Nathan. “Where will she sleep?”

“You have an extra bedroom.”

That was supposed to be the nursery. “I don’t have a bed. I have a cradle, but I don’t think that’ll work.” Mrs. Hermosa had begun to pin clothing to the line.

I walked with Nathan. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. You wash all of our laundry. I’ve seen how long that takes. Look at your hands. Those aren’t the hands of a lady. It’s time you let someone else do the clothing.”

We were near the kitchen door. “Thank you.”

He stared at me, as he did at times, his clear blue eyes roaming over my face. I shouldn’t encourage his attention in this manner because I sensed his interest wasn’t of a platonic nature, my womanly instincts alerting me to this fact. But…I felt drawn to him…even though I knew I shouldn’t.

“What’s for dinner?” His tone had taken on a slightly husky quality.

“Um…Tavern biscuits, brown gravy, and deer meat.”

“How are you cooking the venison?”

“It’s been stewing all day.”

“That’s what I’ve been smelling.”

“I fried it with plenty of onions and garlic.”

His smile lingered. “You did it right then.”

“It won’t be gamey when I’m finished with it.”