The Borrowed Bride. Elizabeth Lane

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СКАЧАТЬ toward him, the girl raced along the platform. She kept even until the train picked up speed and left her behind.

      Laboring for breath, Hannah walked back the way she’d come. A stitch clawed at her side. Wind chilled a patch of skin where she’d ripped the shoulder seam of her outgrown dress. She tugged her shawl over the gap.

      Mrs. Seavers and Judd waited for her under the eave of the platform—so proud, so cold, both of them. They were nothing like Quint, who’d loved her and made her laugh and hadn’t cared that her family was poor.

      What would she do without him?

      What if he never came back?

      Slowing her step, she tried to imagine what Alaska would be like. She’d heard tales of giant grizzly bears, wolf packs, howling blizzards, avalanches, bottomless lakes and lawless men who’d stop at nothing to get what they wanted. The thought of Quint in such a place sickened her with dread. She wanted to fly after the train, stop it somehow and bring him back to the people who loved him.

      Judd had stepped behind his mother’s wheelchair and taken the grips. As they moved out into the drizzle, she opened her tiny black umbrella and held it over her head. Rain-soaked and fighting tears, Hannah trailed them to the buggy. They would let her off at her home. After that, she wouldn’t likely set foot on the Seavers place until Quint returned. The Seavers were quality folk, with a fine ranch, a big house and money in the bank. Hannah’s own parents had emigrated from Norway as newly weds. They worked hard on their little farm, but it was all they could do to feed the seven robust children they’d produced. As the oldest, Hannah would have plenty to do while Quint was away. But she was already planning the letters she would write him by candlelight at day’s end.

      The buggy was waiting in a lot behind the depot. Judd guided the wheelchair over the bumpy ground, tilting it backward to keep from spilling his mother into the mud. His big, scarred hands were pale, most likely from long months in the hospital. Hannah’s gaze was drawn to those hands. She found herself wondering how badly he’d been hurt. He moved like a strong man, but she noticed the way his jaw clenched as he lifted his eighty-five-pound mother onto the buggy seat. His storm-gray eyes were sunk into shadows. They had a wearied look about them, as if they’d seen too much of the world.

      While Judd loaded the wheelchair into the back of the buggy, Hannah climbed onto the single seat beside Edna Seavers. The buggy’s oiled leather cover kept off the rain but the wind was chilly. She huddled into her shawl, her teeth chattering. Her eyes gazed straight ahead at the gleaming rumps of the two matched bays.

      She thought of the train, carrying Quint to Seattle, where he would board a steamer for Alaska—a mysterious place that was no more than a name in Hannah’s mind. Maybe she could ask the schoolteacher to show her a map, so she could see where he’d be going.

      Judd came around to the left side of the buggy and climbed onto the seat. Without a word, he flicked the reins onto the backs of the horses. The buggy rolled forward, wheels cutting into the mud.

      Hannah shivered beneath her damp shawl as they passed along the main street of the awakening town. By now, the sun had risen above the peaks, but its rainfiltered light was gray and murky. The stillness of her two companions only added to the gloom. Having grown up in a big, noisy family, she was unaccustomed to long silences. Surely Judd or his mother would say something soon.

      Crammed against Edna’s bony little body, she struggled to keep still. At last, as the buggy crossed the bridge over the swollen creek, Hannah could stand it no longer.

      “I’ll bet you could tell some good war stories, Judd,” she said. “What was it like, galloping up San Juan Hill behind Teddy Roosevelt?”

      The impatient sound he made fell somewhere between a growl and a sigh. “It was Kettle Hill, not San Juan Hill. And we weren’t galloping. We were on foot and taking a hell of a pounding. The only horse in sight was the one under Roosevelt’s fat rear end.”

      “Oh.” Taken aback, Hannah paused, then rallied. “But you were in the Rough Riders. Wasn’t that a cavalry unit?”

      “Cavalry troops need horses. Ours didn’t make it to Florida before we shipped out. The Rough Riders landed in Cuba and fought as infantry. Don’t you read the papers?”

      Hannah recoiled as if he’d slapped her face. As a matter of fact, her family couldn’t afford to buy newspapers. And even if her father had brought one home, she would have been too busy milking, churning, weeding, scrubbing and minding her young brothers and sisters to sit down and read it.

      “I’m only going by what I’ve heard,” she said. “But it must have been glorious, charging up the hill, guns blazing at the enemy—”

      “Glorious!” Judd snorted contemptuously. “It was a bloodbath! Seventy-six percent casualties, men dropping like mown wheat, all so Teddy Roosevelt could become a damned hero! They could’ve cut down the Spanish with artillery fire before they sent us up. But no, somebody couldn’t wait—”

      “Really, Judd!” Edna’s spidery fingers clutched her folded umbrella. “All this talk about the war is giving me a headache, and I didn’t bring my pills. Can’t you just be quiet until we get home?”

      Judd sighed and hunched over the reins. Hannah squirmed on the padded leather bench. How could this joyless family have produced her loving, laughing Quint? Maybe he was a changeling. Or maybe he took after his long-dead father. Whatever the explanation, she missed him so much that she wanted to cry her eyes out.

      In funereal stillness they drove along the rutted road, through clumps of dripping willow and across the open grassland. To the west, craggy peaks crowned in glittering snow rose above the gray mist. Rain drizzled lightly off the top of the buggy. For Hannah, the silence was becoming unbearable.

      “Quint told me that the biggest mountain in North America was in Alaska,” she said. “Do you think he’ll get a chance to see it?”

      Edna Seavers shot Hannah a glare—the first time the woman had actually looked at her all morning. “I asked for quiet,” she said. “Please have the courtesy to respect my wishes.”

      “I’m sorry,” Hannah murmured. “I only meant to—”

      “That’s enough, young lady. And I’ll thank you not to mention my son in my hearing. I’m upset enough as it is, and my headache is getting worse.”

      “Sorry.” Hannah glanced at Judd’s craggy profile. He was looking straight ahead, his mouth set in a chiseled line. Clearly, he wasn’t about to spring to her defense against his own mother.

      Stomach churning, she stared down at her clenched hands. This had been the worst morning of her life. And being around these two miserable people wasn’t making it any better.

      “Stop the buggy,” she said. “I want to walk.”

      Judd turned to look at her, a puzzled frown on his face. “Don’t be silly. It’s raining,” he said.

      “I don’t care. I’m already wet.”

      “All right, if that’s what you want.” He tugged the reins hard enough to halt the plodding team. “Can you make it home from here? It’s a couple of miles by the road.”

      “I know a shortcut. I’ll be fine. Thank you for the ride.” She clambered out of СКАЧАТЬ