“Hello, Blake.” She looked up as he approached. Her blond hair was caught back in a prim bun and topped by a smart straw bonnet that shaded her pearlescent skin. Her eyes were pale blue, her smile as gentle as her voice.
“Surprise,” he said, wishing he had Mason’s way with pretty words. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I didn’t really plan to shop today.” She took a bottle of vanilla off the shelf and laid it in her basket. “But it’s Webb’s birthday tomorrow, and I’m baking him a special cake, his favorite. When I read the recipe, I realized I didn’t have everything I needed. So Mrs. Calder was kind enough to accompany me here in the buggy. What brings you into Blue Moon?”
“Just picking up some supplies.” Blake’s hopes had faded like sunlight behind a cloud. He was just making conversation now. “I saw you at the dance. I meant to whirl you around the floor a time or two, but then you know what happened.”
“Yes. The fire. I hope that poor woman who got burned is all right. Thank goodness Webb got to her in time.”
“I hope she’s all right, too.” Damn Webb Calder. Blake wished he could take Ruth aside and tell her how callously she was being treated by the man she plainly loved. But something told him that she already knew. She was hanging on in the hope that Webb would come to his senses. Ruth deserved better. But to her, that didn’t seem to matter. Webb Calder was the man she wanted.
“Your order’s ready, Mr. Dollarhide.” Ollie Ellis’s voice broke into a conversation that had become awkward. “I’ll put it on your account.”
“Thanks. Good luck with that cake, Ruth.” Blake tipped his hat to the ladies, carried the box of supplies out to the wagon, and headed out of town. Rainless clouds had drifted over the sun, darkening the day to match his mood. A raven scolded him from a stump at the side of the road.
Wasted time—so far that was all his efforts had amounted to. But he’d brooded enough, Blake told himself. Back at the mill there was work to be done. He would throw his energy into making adjustments on the machinery and updating the inventory to have everything ready when the new, bigger logs arrived by rail. At least that would give him something to show for the day.
* * *
For the Anderson family, supper that evening was potato soup seasoned with a few slivers of bacon, along with field greens and biscuits. Hanna took only a spoonful of soup and a single biscuit, which she forced herself to eat. Her throat was so tight that she could barely swallow.
Earlier in the day, Inga had wrapped her sprained ankle with strips of flour sacking. She’d also sent the other children outside and, after hearing Hanna’s story, ordered her to lie on the bed and spread her legs. Hot-faced, Hanna had protested even as she obeyed.
“Mama, I told you, nothing happened down there. The man in the wagon arrived in time to save me.”
“I believe you, kära. But your father will ask, and I must give him an honest answer.” There’d been a moment of uncomfortable probing. “Ja, you’re fine, thank God. Sit up now. You should rest inside today. I’ll give you some mending to do.”
Still flushed with humiliation, Hanna had settled on a chair and taken the basket of worn stockings her mother handed her. Holding the needle to the light, she’d threaded the large eye with a thin length of yarn, worked the wooden darning egg into the first sock, and began stitching around the hole in the toe to create an anchor for the weaving.
“Mama,” she’d asked as a chilling thought struck her. “What if those men had raped me? What would you and Papa do then—about me, I mean?”
Inga’s hands had paused in the task of peeling a potato. “I suppose, just to be safe, you would need to get married. Then if a baby should come . . .” Her words had trailed off, the implied meaning clear.
“But what man would want me—knowing what had happened?”
“Hanna, you’re a pretty girl, and young. Even if you weren’t, there aren’t that many girls out here for a man to choose from. Ulli Swenson is a good man and a hard worker. You already know that he’s asked Papa for permission to court you.”
Hanna had lowered her gaze to hide her distaste. Ulli Swenson was a grim widower with four children. The oldest, a boy, wasn’t much younger than Hanna, the youngest a little girl of three.
“But it didn’t happen, did it, Mama? I wasn’t raped. And I certainly don’t want to marry Ulli.”
Inga had sighed. “Kära, if you’re expecting a handsome prince on a white horse to sweep you up and carry you away, you’re going to be sadly disappointed. We do our best with whatever life gives us. Remember that in the days ahead.”
Now those words came back to Hanna as her family finished the meal and her father sent the other children outside. Feeling like a prisoner in the dock, she faced her parents across the rough plank table. She’d done nothing wrong. So why did she sense that she was about to be punished?
Lars cleared his throat. “Your mother says you were not harmed, Hanna. But you were lucky. We must make sure nothing happens to any more of our women. Tell me everything you remember about those two cowboys.”
Hanna recalled Blake Dollarhide’s warning about what could follow if her people took revenge. It occurred to her that she could lie about the appearance of the men and what she’d heard them say. But that could make the situation worse, especially if the homesteaders felt free to attack someone else. In any case, lying to her father was unthinkable. She told him everything.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Find them first. Then we will decide.”
“Is that all you need from me?” She stood and began stacking the bowls to clear the table.
“No, sit down,” Lars said. “We need to talk about something else.”
Something else. Hanna felt a wave of nervous nausea. Her life, she sensed, was about to change, and not for the better.
“Your mother and I have been talking,” Lars said. “You’re growing up, Hanna. Today already proved what can happen to a pretty girl like you. Men will look at you and want you. There could be more trouble. There could be talk. We think it’s time you were safely married.”
Hanna felt a sinking sensation, as if her heart had dropped into the pit of her stomach. She’d guessed that something like this might be coming. But now that the words had actually been spoken, she was stunned speechless.
“No.” Her lips formed the word but no sound came out.
“Ulli Swenson is a good man, and he’s got more money than the rest of us together,” her father said. “He’s already started building a fine cabin with a stone fireplace and wood floors. He plans to have it done before winter. Just think, you would have a real house with your own bedroom.”
Not her own bedroom. Her and Ulli’s.
“Your children would never be cold or go hungry,” Inga added. “You can’t imagine how much that can mean to a mother.”
Hanna found her voice. “This is America. You can’t force me to marry a man I don’t love.”
“There are more important things than love,” Inga said. “Will love put food on your table or keep a roof over your head? Will love put clothes on your back or win the respect of your neighbors?”