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“Then I’ll leave it in your hands. You know Hannah better than I do.” Actually he scarcely knew Hannah at all, Judd realized as he spoke. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“I’ll be going then.” Mary turned back to Edna. “I thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Seavers.”
Edna’s only reply was a nod to Gretel, who’d appeared in the doorway to usher the visitor outside.
No sooner had the front door closed than the storm broke inside the parlor. “How dare you, Judd? The idea, marrying that wretched girl! Think of the scandal! What will people say?”
Judd faced his mother calmly. “What will they say if I don’t marry her? Once she starts to show, the whole town will be counting backward. They’ll know it’s Quint’s baby she’s carrying. For us to turn her away when we have the means to help—that would be heartless.”
“But why should we have to take her in? Give her some money! Send her away to some home where she can have the brat and place it for adoption!”
Judd willed himself to feel pity instead of outrage. “The brat, as you call it, is your grandchild—maybe the only one you’ll ever have. What if something happens to Quint? What if he doesn’t come home?”
“Don’t say such a terrible thing. Don’t even think it.” Edna pressed her fingertips to her forehead, then released her hands to flutter like wounded doves to her lap. “In any case, you’re here. Surely you’ll be wanting a proper marriage, with children of your own.”
“Not the way I am now.”
“What nonsense! Look at you! You’re perfectly fine! You’re getting stronger every day!”
Judd sighed. “Mother, sometimes I envy your ability to see only what you want to see. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get the men started on the new horse paddock.”
Without waiting for her response, he strode out of the parlor, down the hall and onto the covered porch that ran the width of the house. On the long train ride home, he’d had plenty of time to sort out the realities of his life. He wouldn’t have minded having a family of his own. But his black spells and nightmares were worse than he’d wish on any woman. He wasn’t fit to be a real husband—or a real father. But now he had a chance to rescue an awkward situation. What kind of man would he be if he walked away?
He would do his best to stand in for Quint, Judd vowed. He would treat Hannah as a sister, keeping her at a distance, avoiding any physical contact that might be misunderstood. When Quint returned, he would sign the divorce papers and hand her over to the father of her child, untouched.
His behavior would be above reproach.
Hannah washed the supper dishes, rinsing them in fresh water and handing them to her sister Annie to dry. An evening breeze fluttered the flour sack curtains at the window and freshened the torrid air that hung beneath the smoke-blackened rafters. Frogs and crickets chirped in the willow clumps that bordered the creek.
Annie, who was sixteen and pretty, chattered about the dress she was making over and the new boy she’d met in town. Hannah tried to listen, but her thoughts wheeled and scattered like a flock of blackbirds, too agitated to settle in any one place.
Three days ago her mother had broached the subject of her pregnancy. Their confrontation had begun in anger and ended in tears. Hannah knew how badly she’d let her family down. Unless Quint returned to marry her, there would be scandal, expense, and one more Gustavson mouth to feed. Worse, she’d be branded as a fallen woman. Her reputation would cast its shadow on her whole family, especially on her sisters.
Sweet heaven, she’d been so much in love. On that last night, she couldn’t have denied Quint anything—not even her willing, young body. But how many lives would be touched by her foolish mistake?
A snore rose from her father’s slack mouth, where he lay sprawled in his armchair. Affection tugged at Hannah’s heart. Soren Gustavson toiled from dawn to dark, tending the pigs he raised and coaxing potatoes, beets and carrots from the rocky Colorado soil. No doubt he’d been told about his daughter’s condition. But pregnancy was women’s business, and he was too worn-out to deal with it. He was a small man, his overtaxed body already showing signs of age. Hannah’s baby would add one more burden to his sagging shoulders.
Overhead, the floor of the loft where the children slept creaked under her mother’s footfalls. Mary Gustavson always made time to tuck her younger children into bed and listen to their prayers. Tonight, however, the calm cadence was missing from her steps. She seemed rushed and uncertain.
Over supper, she’d mentioned something about a visit from Judd Seavers. But a neighborly call was no reason to get her in a tizzy. Judd was probably coming to discuss the strip of grassland that bordered his ranch. The Seavers family had been trying to buy it from Soren for years. Soren had always refused. This time would be no different.
Mary came downstairs smoothing her hair. She’d taken off her rumpled apron and replaced it with a clean one. “Wash your face, Hannah,” she fussed. “You’ve got a smudge on your cheek. Then come here and let me comb out your hair. You’re getting too old for those pigtails!”
Annie giggled as Mary dragged Hannah toward the washstand. What was going on? Why should it matter how she looked to Judd? He’d certainly seen her in pigtails before—not that he’d ever given her a second glance.
She squirmed on the wooden stool, her thoughts flying even faster than her mother’s hands. How would Mary know Judd was coming unless she’d spoken with him? And what could he want, if his visit wasn’t about buying land?
Her heart dropped. What if something had happened to Quint? What if the family had gotten word, and Judd was coming to break the news?
She was working up the courage to ask when three light raps on the door galvanized everyone’s attention. The brush stilled in Hannah’s hair. Soren started from his nap.
It was Annie who flew across the floor to answer the knock. She flung the door open. Lamplight spilled onto the porch to reveal Judd standing on the threshold. He was dressed in a clean chambray shirt and a light woolen vest. His face was freshly shaved, his hair still wet from combing.
He had the look and manner of a prisoner facing execution.
“Good evening, Judd.” Annie spoke politely but with a hint of flirtation in her voice. “Have you come to see my parents? They’re both here, and they’re expecting you.”
Judd shifted his feet. His riding boots gleamed with fresh polish. “Good evening, Mr. Gustavson, Mrs. Gustavson. Actually it’s not you I’ve come to see. I’d like your permission to speak with Hannah—alone.”
Chapter Three
“Go on, Hannah. You and Judd can talk on the porch.” Mary Gustavson prodded her daughter with the end of the hairbrush. Hannah came forward as if she were being dragged by invisible chains. Her blue eyes were wide and frightened. How much had her mother told her? Judd wondered. Did she know what he’d come for?
Maybe he was making a ghastly mistake.
Judd felt his mouth go dry as he watched her. He’d always thought of Quint’s girl as pretty, in a wholesome, apple-cheeked sort of way. But he’d never seen her like this, with lamplight falling on her glorious hair, framing her face in a halo of gold. Even in her faded gingham dress, Hannah was beautiful.
Lord, what was he thinking? Even poor and pregnant, this girl could have suitors fighting to marry her. Why should she accept a man like him, even to give her child the Seavers name?
“Good evening, Judd.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
Judd swallowed the knot in his throat. “Let’s go outside, Hannah,” he murmured, offering his arm.
She hesitated, then laid her hand on his sleeve. Her touch was as weightless as dandelion fluff, but he could feel the warmth of her flesh through the thin fabric. The contact sent an unexpected—and unwelcome—jab of heat to his loins. Judd swore silently. This was going to be awkward as hell.
They crossed the moonlit porch. As they reached the steps, she cleared her throat and spoke.
“What is it, Judd? Has something happened to Quint? Is that what you’ve come to tell me?”
“No.” He shook his head, thinking how much his arrival must have worried her. “Nothing’s happened. Not that we know of, at least. We haven’t heard from Quint since he left.”
“Neither have I.” She moved down the steps and into the yard. Her mother had suggested they talk on the porch, but Hannah appeared too restless to settle in one spot. Judd was restless, too.
“Do you think he’s all right?” she asked.
“We have to hope he is. Alaska’s a big, wild place. If Quint’s out in the goldfields, there’d be no way for him to mail a letter, or to get one.”
“I’ve written to him every week.” Her voice quivered as if she were on the verge of tears.
“So has our mother. And I’ve written a few times myself. He’ll have a heap of letters waiting for him when he gets back to Skagway.”
They walked a few steps in silence, wandering out toward the corral where the two poor-looking cows drowsed under the eave of the milk shed. Hannah had taken her hand away from his sleeve. She walked with her arms clasped around her ribs, as if protecting herself.
“You said you wanted to talk to me, Judd.”
“Yes.” Lord, this would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. “I want to make you an offer, Hannah. You may not think much of it, but hear me out.”
She turned to face him. “I’m listening. Just tell me.”
“All right.” Judd sucked in his breath, forcing himself to meet her questioning gaze. “Your mother paid us a visit today. She told us about your baby.”
Hannah reeled as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She caught the corral fence with one hand, feeling slightly ill. She’d wanted to keep the baby a secret for as long as possible. But her mother had shared that secret with the last two people she’d have chosen to tell.
“You don’t have to convince me the baby’s Quint’s,” Judd said. “Seeing the two of you together for so long, I’ve no doubt of that. The question is, what do we do now?”
“We?” Hannah gulped. “Since when did this become your problem, Judd?”
“Since I found out you were carrying my brother’s child—my own flesh and blood.”
Oh, blast, he was going to make her cry. Hannah steeled her emotions. “I’ve written to Quint about the baby,” she said. “I’ve written again and again. Surely, once he gets word, he’ll catch the next boat home.”
“But when will he get word? And how soon will he be able to get back? If he’s still in the Klondike when winter comes, he might not make it out till spring.”
Hannah’s heart sank. “The baby could be born before Quint comes home.”
“Without a proper father and without a legal name.”
A nighthawk swooped through the darkness, moonlight flashing on its white-barred wings. The horse Judd had tied to the fence shifted in the darkness. Hannah gazed up at Quint’s taciturn brother, a man ten years her senior. She’d known him all her life, yet scarcely knew him at all. Surely he hadn’t meant what had just popped into her head.
No, of course not.
“I’m offering to marry you, Hannah,” Judd was talking fast now, pouring out more words than Hannah had ever heard from him at one time. “It wouldn’t be a real marriage, of course. Not in the physical sense. But it would be legal. It would give your child the Seavers name and the right to inherit Quint’s share of the estate one day. And it would hush up the gossip that’s bound to start before long.
“Not entirely. People can count.” Hannah responded from a well of stunned silence.
“They can and they will. But you’d be a Seavers. A married woman. And you’d have me to defend your honor.”
A married woman.
Judd’s wife.
Hannah’s legs had gone rubbery. She gripped the fence rail for support. The last thing she’d expected from tonight’s visit was a proposal.
Judd was waiting, studying her face with fathomless eyes. What had prompted him to make such an outlandish offer? Had her mother begged him to rescue her daughter from shame?
Had he really thought this out?
With effort she found her voice. “What about Quint? What’s to happen when he comes home?”
“I’ve thought it all out. Our family lawyer can draw up divorce papers before the wedding. When Quint comes home, we can sign them, and you’ll be free to marry the father of your child.”
Hannah stared at the ground, where the moonlight had joined their shadows. The next question lay unspoken between them, cold and dark and too dreadful for words. Hannah forced herself to give it voice.
“And if Quint doesn’t come back? What then?”
“That would be up to you. Anytime you wanted your freedom, we could sign the papers and be done with it. Your child would still be a Seavers with the right of inheritance.” Judd exhaled raggedly. “But there’s no need to dwell on that now. Unless we hear differently, we have to assume that Quint’s fine, and that he’ll be coming home.”
“Yes, of course we do.” The night was warm, but Hannah felt a shiver pass through her body. She turned away from Judd and fixed her eyes on the North Star. She often looked that way when she wanted to feel close to Quint. Where was he now? she wondered. Was he gazing at the night sky, just as she was—maybe thinking of her while she entertained a marriage proposal from his brother?
Would marrying Judd be an act of betrayal or an act of sacrifice, for the sake of Quint’s child?
Was she actually thinking of saying yes?
“I can promise you’d be taken care of the way Quint would want,” Judd said. “You’d have your own bedroom and anything you needed in the way of clothes, things for the baby and even gifts for your family. Gretel does the cooking and housework and cares for my mother. That wouldn’t change.”
Hannah’s fingers wadded the fabric of her skirt as his words sank in. The Gustavsons had always been poor, but they’d been happy enough. She’d never minded hard work, nor had she wasted time yearning for finery. The idea of having a servant was as foreign to her as living on the moon. As for the rest…
Something shrank inside Hannah as she imagined passing her days in that silent, gloomy house with the waspish Edna Seavers and her huge, grim mastiff of a housekeeper. She’d assumed that when she and Quint married, they would build a home of their own. But for the sham marriage Judd was proposing, that wouldn’t be practical. And she could hardly stay with her own family—not if she wanted her child to be accepted as a Seavers.
Behind her, Judd waited in silence. Maybe he thought she’d jump at the chance to have a comfortable life, to live in an elegant ranch house, wear store-bought clothes and sit down to meals she didn’t have to prepare. Well, he was wrong. In that great mausoleum of a home she would feel more like a prisoner than a cherished, useful member of the family.
Exasperated, she swung back to face him. “Who came up with this crazy idea, Judd? Did my mother talk you into saving my honor?”
He shook his head. “Nobody talked me into anything. And my reason for coming here tonight has little to do with your honor—or with you as a woman.”
So much for pretty words. Hannah scuffed at a stone, her silence pressing him to continue.
“If Quint doesn’t make it home, that baby you’re carrying will be all we have left of him—and most likely the only grandchild my mother will ever have. I’m looking out for the next generation of our family.”
“But what about you, Judd? Surely you’ll want to find a good woman and start a family of your own before long.”
He looked away from her, his eyes fixed on the jagged silhouette of the mountains. A falling star streaked through the darkness and vanished. “I’m not a fit husband for any woman,” he said. “Chances are I never will be.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s no need for you to understand. If you become my wife, we’ll keep a proper distance like polite friends. My personal demons will be my concern, not yours.”
“I see,” Hannah murmured, though she really didn’t. She was just beginning to realize how little she knew about Judd Seavers.
He exhaled slowly, like a man who’d just set down a heavy weight. “I’m not expecting your answer tonight,” he said. “Take time to think about what I’ve said. Either way, I don’t want to rush you.”
“Thank you.” Hannah moved away from the fence. Thinking too long about Judd’s offer would only make her decision harder. It would be just as well to make up her mind and be done with it. “Come back in the morning,” she said. “I’ll give you my answer then.”
“I’ll come tomorrow night.” He loosed the reins from around the fence rail and eased onto his tall black gelding. The grimace that flashed across his face told Hannah that the war wounds still pained him. “I want to do right by you and my brother and the child. But I won’t push your decision. You need enough time to be sure.”
For the space of a heartbeat he gazed down at her upturned face. Then, without giving her a chance to say more, he swung toward the gate and nudged the horse to a canter.
Hannah stood watching the dark forms of horse and rider blend into night. Only then did she allow her legs to betray her. Like a wounded animal, she sank to the ground. Her fingers splayed over her face. Her body quivered with unspent sobs.
This couldn’t be happening. She was still coming to terms with having a baby, still clinging to the hope that Quint would come home and marry her. Judd’s offer had come from nowhere, slamming her with the force of a lightning bolt and leaving her in a state of shock.
Judd meant well, Hannah reminded herself. His plan was well thought out, covering all possibilities. If Quint came back, she could divorce Judd and marry her true love. If the worst happened, and Quint didn’t return, the child conceived in that impulsive moment would never know the stigma of bastardy. He or she would have the Seavers name, access to a good education and a share of the finest ranch in the county.
On one hand, how could she even think of saying no?
On the other hand, how could she find the courage to say yes?
Judd Seavers was like a black pool with unknown pitfalls lurking beneath its quiet surface. He’d mentioned his personal demons. What did he mean? Could he be an alcoholic, or even an opium addict? Was he capable of harming her or her child? Surely not—but how could she be certain?
