Gingham Mountain (18 page)

He recognized another horse from Zeb’s and barely suppressed a groan. Soon he’d be praying for a return to this blissful condition.

Hannah.

He had no doubt the woman came to snipe. He fought the temptation to ride back out. Maybe snare a rabbit, do some fishing, live off the land for a week or two. She’d go away eventually.

Resigned to a few hours of nagging, he stripped the leather off his horse, brushed it down for far, far too long, and then gave it a bait of oats. He headed in feeling like he was taking that long, last walk to a gallows.

Maybe it wasn’t her. Someone else could have rented a horse. He swung the door open daring to hope.

Inside, instead of hope, he found Hannah.

Sitting in the one and only rocking chair reading
Oliver Twist
, she held Libby and Benny on her lap. Charlie leaned against the stones of the hearth. Sadie worked next to Marilyn at the stove.

Despite his daydreams—he was a realist, he’d known it was her—Grant was caught by how right the family looked with Hannah in the center. His eyes burned. He blinked away the shocking desire to cry. Hannah would think he’d gone soft. And he was only acting like this because of the upset of Josh.

The thought of Josh snapped him out of the emotional weakness. His injured son was nowhere to be seen.

What if. . . Could he have. . . Grant nearly panicked. “Where’s Josh?”

A movement brought Grant’s head around to the back entry–turned bedroom. Joshua stepped through the little door that led through his room and out the back of the house. His arm in a sling, his face haggard,
Josh had a tidy bandage on his forehead. The gauze glowed white against his black skin. But he was standing.

Grant’s knees almost buckled. “You’re looking a sight better, Josh.” Grant had his hands full keeping his voice steady. “You’re gonna be okay then?”

“Yep.” Josh didn’t so much as shake his head. “I’m still seeing two of everything. Doc Morgan stopped by this afternoon and said that’s normal. My ribs feel like I’ve been kicked by a mule and my shoulder’s on fire. It’s nothing that won’t mend.”

Grant could tell the boy still hurt. . .and badly.

Hannah stood carefully, mindful of easing the children to the floor. “Here, take this chair.”

“No thanks, Miss Cartwright. I think I’ll go back to bed. I just heard Pa ride up and decided if he could see me standing he’d quit worrying.” Joshua smiled then turned back to Grant. “I woke up in there awhile ago and lay listening to her reading to the young ones. I was awhile working up the nerve to try and stand, but I did.”

Grant managed a half smile and hooked his fingers through his belt loops. “You know me well, son. It does put my mind at ease to see you up. But I wouldn’t have made you get to your feet.” Grant felt the harmonica in his pocket and produced it for Josh. “We found this.”

Josh lit up then flinched in pain.

Grant was at his son’s side in an instant. “I’ll put it by your bed.”

With a heavy sigh, Josh said, “Thanks. I’m not up for much. I didn’t get up just for you. I needed to prove to myself that I could stand on my own feet. I’ll go back to bed now though. I ache like I took an all-day beating. Sorry I won’t be able to help around much for a few days. But if you’ll give me some time, I’ll be back at it.” Josh quirked a pained smile at Grant, and they both acknowledged his weak effort at a joke. Of course he’d have all the time he needed.

Grant noticed Hannah’s eyes narrow at the word “beating.” Grant glanced at Hannah, and those narrow blue eyes were aimed right at
him. He wanted to exchange a look of concern with her. Instead, she as much as accused him of beating his son.

His jaw tensed, and Grant had to force himself to smile and speak easily to Josh. “You’ll have all the time you need.”

“I’ll bring your supper in as soon as it’s off the stove, Josh.” Sadie flashed him a smile. Grant could see the worry on her face, but she did her best to cover it.

“Thanks.” Joshua turned slowly and made his way back to bed with as little jostling of his battered body as he could manage. Grant set the harmonica close, and as Josh settled on the bed with as little movement as possible, Grant spoke low enough no one could hear him. “Have you remembered what happened out there?”

Josh closed his eyes. “No. I remember setting off to track that cow, but nothing after that.”

Grant knew Josh was in danger until he could name his attacker. “Doc says that’s normal. It’ll most likely all come back to you soon.”

Josh’s eyes slid closed and he didn’t respond.

Grant whispered, “Good night.”

As he left the room, Marilyn spoke up. “Miss Cartwright, you asked if you could help. Would you mind setting the plates and forks around?”

Throwing a quick prayer of thanks to his Maker that Marilyn was smart enough to only let Hannah handle things made of tin, Grant went to the washbasin and scrubbed his face and hands. He took his time. He straightened as Sadie disappeared into Josh’s sickroom with a plate. Marilyn called the rest of the family to dinner.

Hannah, it appeared, was staying for another meal. Grant was tempted to charge her room and board. The light was failing; that meant he’d need to ride beside her into town. Stifling a groan, Grant headed for the table, hoping Hannah didn’t burn anything to the ground before he got her out of here.

H
annah had to ask. She wouldn’t respect herself if she didn’t.

She’d seen the way the children interacted with Grant. It was almost impossible to believe they harbored an ounce of fear of him. But he had barely spoken to her during the meal and now he sat beside her grim and stiff, frowning as if she smelled bad. . .which she no doubt did.

Still, she had to ask.

Struggling to be diplomatic, she said, “So what exactly happened to Josh?” There, that was nice. Of course she’d like to know. She was only a caring neighbor. She was proud of herself. Grant was a decent man. He’d be polite.

“You mean did I thrash him within an inch of his life for not working an eighteen-hour day? Did the boy ask for a crust of bread and I took a belt to him? Just say what you’re thinking.”

He had the manners of a warthog.

Grant gave the reins a hard shake and the horses picked up their pace. His jaw was so tense Hannah expected his teeth to crack.

“I am not thinking that.” She was, but she had no interest in admitting it. “The children seem very content with you. I apologize for being unhappy about all those children without a mother. It sets wrong with me, but I can see they need a home. I don’t think you’ve got any right to hate me for worrying about them.” She felt her temper
climbing and clamped her mouth shut. She’d break a few teeth of her own before she spoke to the surly man again.

Then she thought of something else, and since she hadn’t told Grant about her plan to give him the silent treatment, she felt no compulsion to live with that decision. “And I didn’t force my way into a dinner invitation. The children wanted a story. Sadie and Marilyn were upset, and at first they were caring for Josh. Then they had to catch up on chores, and Libby and Benny were acting up, probably because they were so fretful about Josh. You should have been there with them when they were so upset. But no, you were off doing who knows what! I stayed because I thought I could help, you. . .you big. . .” She snapped her teeth together again.

They were coming up on the steep climb over the hill and down to Sour Springs. Grant suddenly pulled back on the reins, and when the horses came to a halt, he turned to her. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Having you there did help out.”

He couldn’t have surprised her any more if he’d sprouted a full white beard and left her a sack of Christmas presents.

“Well. . .” Speechless, because she had a hard time thinking of anything to say to Grant that wasn’t rude, she fell silent. She wanted to rub his nose in his rudeness. She looked, glared probably, at Grant and saw how tired he was. She remembered the worry on his face when he came in and didn’t see Josh.

It hurt a bit, but she managed to say, “Thank you.”

Grant nodded then turned to look between his horses’ ears. “It helped
me
having you there, too, Hannah.”

Hannah should have corrected him and insisted on “Miss Cartwright.” Everyone in town needed to treat her with the dignity due a teacher’s station, to set a good example for the children. But he sounded too weary and kind.

“When I saw Josh lying there—” Grant’s voice broke. His chin dropped to his chest, and his shoulders rose and fell as if he hadn’t
taken a breath in hours and was only just now remembering how. He whispered, “I thought he was dead. I thought my son was—” Grant’s gloved hand came up and covered his eyes.

Hannah didn’t know what to say. She wanted to hold him, comfort him. But it was completely improper. His shoulders trembled.

Her arms went around him. “I’m so glad he’s going to be okay.”

The touch must have helped because he lifted his head and glanced down at her. They were too close. The silent night, the bank of endless stars, the gentle cold breeze, her warm arms, their eyes. . .

She jerked away. Faced forward. “We’d better get home. I’ve got school tomorrow.” Because something had stirred in her, in a deep place, a place she didn’t know she had, she spoke brusquely, “And your children had better be there. No excuses.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Grant give his head a shake and scrub his face with his hands. “They’ll be there, Hannah.”

Hoping to regain the distance she wanted between them, Hannah did her best to annoy him. “It’s Miss Cartwright.”

There was an extended silence. Hannah refused to look sideways to see what Grant was waiting for. She was afraid she knew.

At last he sighed so deeply the air might have come all the way from his toes. “Fine!” With a slap of leather, he set the team trotting. They started the ascent up the mountain at a pace far faster than the last time.

The snow was melted mostly away so possibly this was a normal speed for the horses, but Hannah suspected it had a lot more to do with getting rid of her. For the next few minutes, Hannah had her hands full keeping her seat.

They came down the other side, and as they leveled off, Grant said in a voice that sounded like he had to drag the words out of his throat, “As to your none-too-sneaky hint that I might have given the boy a beating, I didn’t. I was gone because I spent the afternoon hunting for answers. Josh isn’t a boy to go falling off a mountain. He’s agile and
quick. The trail was one that’d make a mountain goat think twice, but Josh scaled it all the time. What happened to him was no accident.”

“You mean someone attacked him?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“But who?” Hannah’s breath came in shallow pants as she remembered so many experiences with violence in her past.

“I don’t know, but I intend to find the truth. But I should have stayed with the children. You’re right. They needed me.”

Grant sighed as the wagon pulled into Sour Springs. “Please don’t repeat what I’ve said. For now, until we can figure out what happened, we want everyone to believe Joshua fell by accident.”

As Grant stopped the horses in back of the diner, a swish of skirts drew Hannah’s eye. The seamstress who had been in Stroben’s Mercantile that first night came out of her shop and headed for them like she was a magnet and Grant was true north. Grant saw the woman—Prudence, Hannah remembered—and jerked as if he’d been bee stung. The woman must mean something to him.

His shoulders slumped, and he swung himself down off the high seat. He made a move to round the back of the wagon, but the tall, slender woman cut him off. A trained cow pony couldn’t have done it better.

“Grant, I saw you coming into town. I wondered if you’d like to come over tonight. Last time the weather stopped you.”

“Uh. . .hi there. . .uh. . .”

There’d been a last time? They must be seeing each other. That moment on the drive, when their eyes caught, flared to vivid life—if he was seeing Prudence, he shouldn’t be looking at Hannah that way. Heat crawled up her neck, and she was thankful for the dark that covered her blush. Of course someone as handsome as Grant would be thinking of finding a wife. But where in heaven’s name did the man intend to put her in that tiny house?

Prudence rested her hand on Grant’s arm in a way that Hannah
found far too familiar for a public street. Of course there was no public, only Hannah, and she quite obviously didn’t count.

All Hannah’s haranguing about having no mother for his children now echoed like pure foolishness in her ears. But why hadn’t he told her? Why had he let her go on and on if he was already thinking to take a wife? And a tall wife, graceful and beautifully dressed, too. Nothing like Hannah in her rags.

Hannah realized she was staring. She also realized she’d expected Grant to help her down off the wagon. He had last night. Well, she’d fall down before she’d stare at the couple a second longer.

She heard the murmur of voices, which she studiously ignored. She reached the ground with just enough clumsiness to feel even more foolish than she already did. Her skirt snagged on a step and she pulled it quickly free. But there was no reason to be embarrassed; the couple never glanced her way.

She took a quick peek and saw Prudence snuggled up against Grant. Hannah hoped he didn’t behave like this in front of his children.

Hannah’s temper rose. She squashed it. And she wasn’t going to just run away. She lifted her voice so Grant could hear her over the sweet nothings he was no doubt whispering to Prudence. “I’ll expect your children at school tomorrow, Grant. If they’re not there, I’m coming out to get them.”

Grant lifted his head and took a step toward her, dragging Prudence along as if she’d forgotten to take her claws out of him. Prudence was enough of a drag to stop him, and he didn’t seem inclined to fight her off. “I’m planning on them being there.”

Hannah jerked her chin up and down—which he might not have even seen in the darkness, especially with Prudence as a distraction. Then Prudence closed any gap that there was between her and Grant.