Cocking the pistol as a precaution, he slid back the bolt and opened the door a few inches. Standing on the threshold was Alvar, his slicker covered in snow. A small figure, damp and shivering, stood beside him. Blake’s pulse skipped as he recognized Hanna.
“I’m sorry—” Alvar began, but Blake cut him off.
“For God’s sake, man, come in. I’ll light the fire, and then you can tell me what you two are doing here.”
“I can’t wait for the fire,” Alvar said. “My father and sister were caught in the storm. This was the closest place I could bring them for shelter. My father is coming up with the wagon. I need to go right back down in case he needs help. But I thought it best to bring Hanna up first.” He cleared his throat. “I know this is an imposition, but—”
“It’s nothing of the sort, Alvar. Bring your father up. You can put the horses in the barn. There should be feed and water for them there. I’ll take care of your sister.”
“Thank you.” Alvar was out the door again, closing it behind him, leaving Blake alone with Hanna.
Wrapped in a damp shawl, she was shivering, her hair hanging in strings around her face. Not once had she looked up at him. Was she aware of what Mason had told him?
He couldn’t let himself think about that now.
“We need to get you warm,” he said. “I’ll take that shawl.” When she didn’t respond, he lifted it away and laid a warm knitted afghan over her shoulders. Leaving her, he added some shavings and kindling sticks to the coals in the fireplace. Within minutes he had a small blaze going.
He was adding more wood when he glanced around to see that she had seated herself on a nearby footstool, close to the heat, with the afghan wrapped around her body.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded. A beat of silence passed before she spoke. “You don’t have to do anything for me, Blake. I don’t deserve it.”
“It’s not a question of deserving. It’s a question of needing,” he said. “I know about you and Mason. He told me.”
“I thought he might have. It wouldn’t be like Mason to keep it to himself.”
Blake remembered Mason bragging about how eager she’d been, how she’d yanked at his belt and spread her legs. Knowing Mason, he suspected that might not have been entirely true. But he would never know.
“Did you love him?” Blake could have bitten his tongue off for asking.
“No. It was exciting to be wanted by a man like Mason. But I was a silly little fool. I should have known he was only using me.” She rearranged her skirt, exposing more of its wet folds to the heat. “But there’s something else. Better you hear it from me than from my father.”
Even before she spoke, Blake knew what she was going to say. But he was still unprepared to hear it.
She stared into the fire, then met his gaze. “I’m going to have a baby—Mason’s baby.”
Blake struggled to hide his dismay. He knew he should say something, but what? I’m sorry didn’t quite seem fitting. He could imagine what might have happened tonight, a desperate father hauling his daughter to the man who’d ruined her, demanding that he do the responsible thing—and being turned away in a snowstorm. Mason deserved to be tarred and feathered for this.
“So I take it he’s refused to marry you,” he said. “Other wise you wouldn’t have ended up here.”
“His mother refused for him. She said Mason was out of town, but I’m sure his answer would have been the same. And even if he’d agreed to marry me, I’m not at all sure I’d have him.” She lowered her gaze to her hands. When she looked up at him again, Blake saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “But we didn’t come here asking you to get involved. This isn’t your problem, Blake. You’re not responsible for your brother’s actions, and certainly not for mine.”
“So what are you going to do?” he asked her.
A single tear spilled over and flowed down her cheek. “I don’t have much choice. And I don’t deserve the right to ask for help, even from my family. All I can do is have this baby and try to be a good mother, even if I have to raise the poor little thing by myself.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, young lady.” The deep, gravelly voice startled them both. Joe Dollarhide, clad in his robe and slippers, stood in the opening to the hallway. Sarah stood just behind him. From the looks on their faces, Blake guessed that they’d heard most of the conversation.
“Your baby is a Dollarhide,” Joe said. “No grandchild of mine is going to be an outcast from this family. Whatever you choose to do, know that Mason’s child will want for nothing.”
Hanna had risen to her feet. Proud but trembling, she faced Blake’s powerful father. “Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Dollarhide,” she said in a polite voice. “I know you mean well. But I’m not a charity case. I won’t use my baby as a reason to get help from you.”
The older man looked startled. Then his steely gaze swung toward Blake. “We need to talk,” he said. “In my study. Now.”
As they headed out of the room, Sarah took charge. “Stay by the fire and wait for the others, Hanna,” she said. “I’ll go to the kitchen, light a lamp, and make us something hot to drink. Then I’ll have my daughter find you some dry clothes.”
* * *
There was no need for light in the study. Moonlight reflecting on snow outside the window cast Joe Dollarhide’s features into craggy relief as he sat behind his desk. Blake settled in a side chair, tense and vaguely uneasy as he waited to hear what his father had in mind.
Joe stirred and spoke. “So do you think we can press Mason to marry the poor girl? According to what I heard, he didn’t actually refuse. It was Amelia who spoke for him.”
“Amelia said that Mason was out of town. I saw him in Blue Moon yesterday afternoon. He didn’t appear to be going anywhere.”
“So Amelia lied.”
“Whether she lied or not, can you imagine the life Hanna would have, with Mason as a husband and Amelia as an unwilling mother-in-law? Can you imagine your grandchild growing up unwanted?”
“I can imagine it. That’s why I’m not going to force Mason to marry the girl. Mason’s not a bad man, but his mother’s spoiled him. He has a lot of growing up to do.” Joe sighed. “So we need to find some other answer. We can’t just abandon the young woman who’s carrying my grandchild.”
“Hanna’s family is poor,” Blake said. “At least they appear to love each other, but their house isn’t much better than a chicken coop.”
“After hearing what Hanna said to me, I get the impression that if we offered them money to help, they wouldn’t accept it.”
Blake nodded. “They’re as proud as they are poor.”
Joe swiveled his chair to gaze out the window at the falling snow. After what seemed like a long silence he spoke. “Then, as I see it, there’s only one solution. But it has to come from you.”
Blake didn’t have to ask what his father meant. But the idea shook him to the core. Hanna was beautiful, spirited, and intelligent. But she was so young. And his relationship with her had been like that of a protective older brother—certainly not romantic in any way. More disturbing was the fact that she’d given herself to Mason and was carrying his child. How could he even look at her without remembering that?