Webb’s expression hardened. “Then let them leave. Good riddance.”
“Somebody’s paying the raiders for their dirty work. And no, I don’t believe it’s your family. I never really did. But the settlers who aren’t leaving are digging in. They’ll be ready to fight. If this isn’t stopped, people will die—maybe people you and I care about.”
Webb drained his glass and set it on the table with a click. “I know what you’re asking. But look at me, Blake. I damn near died from that gunshot, and I’m as broken inside as I am on the outside. Dad’s slowing down, and he’s looking to me to take over running the ranch. Don’t ask me to get involved in this mess, especially since I’d be dealing with the man who shot me. And you’ve already talked to Dad. Nothing has changed since then except that now he hates the drylanders even more than he did before.”
“I understand,” Blake said, and he did. He couldn’t count on the Calders for any kind of help. He would have to find another way. He thought of Hanna’s family, good people who deserved to live safely and prosper. The loss of any one of them would break Hanna’s heart.
On his way home he stopped at the sawmill. After unloading the supplies he’d bought, he drew Alvar out into the yard where they could talk and told him what he’d heard in town.
“If you know about the raids, Alvar, you need to tell me everything,” he said. “Is someone just floating rumors, or are they really happening?”
Alvar hesitated, frowning, before he spoke. “They’re happening—like you say, a few burned outhouses, fences down, horses and cows let loose. Nothing that can’t be fixed. But people are remembering what happened to Ulli Swenson’s house and his little girl, and they’re taking the mischief as a warning. The folks who are scared are selling out. The rest, the ones who are determined to stay, are getting ready to fight.”
“And your family?”
“Do you need to ask? I might’ve said something sooner, but my folks didn’t want to alarm Hanna with her baby almost due.” Alvar brushed the sawdust off his trousers. “I guess you’re wondering why we haven’t told you. It’s because we remember what you said after those men assaulted Hanna—about not starting a fight. We took your advice, and after that, Ulli’s house got dynamited. We’re not going to let anything like that happen again. If we catch any of those men, they’re going to pay.”
“Can’t I talk to your parents and neighbors, to at least find out what they’re planning?”
“They won’t listen to you. And I’m under orders not to tell you any more than I already have. Please don’t make me choose between you and my people.”
“Fine,” Blake said. “But promise me one thing. If things get dangerous, send your mother and the young ones to my house. They’ll be safe there, and they’ll be welcome.”
Alvar shook his head. “We talked about that because we knew you might offer. But my mother says that as long as the neighbor families have to fight to protect themselves, we’ll do the same. We don’t want any special treatment. It’s about pride—and about all of us standing together.”
Blake sent Alvar back to work. It stung that Alvar would keep secrets from his brother-in-law, mentor, and friend. But Blake couldn’t fault a boy whose first loyalty was to his family.
Acting alone, there appeared to be just one way he could stop the raids and reprisals—find and expose the person, or persons, paying out money to the raiders. Then what? Sheriff Potter’s jurisdiction only encompassed Blue Moon. But there was a U.S. Marshal’s office in Miles City. When he’d gathered enough evidence, he would take it there and hope for the best.
Or, if there was no other way, he would deal with the situation himself.
The day was getting on. After talking with Garrity and making sure everything at the mill was running smoothly, Blake mounted his buckskin horse and rode up the hill to the house.
As he walked in the front door, he could smell baked beans and biscuits cooking in the kitchen. But the place was quiet. His father was probably still checking the new calves. Sarah and Kristin had gone to Miles City to choose a wardrobe for Kristin’s upcoming European tour.
In the parlor, he found Hanna asleep on the couch, her head on a cushion, her slippered feet tucked under her skirt, and her arms cradling her round belly. With the baby most likely due in the next two weeks, she spent much of her time resting. But everything appeared to be ready for the little one to arrive.
Kristin’s former baby bassinet was set up in the bedroom, supplies of diapers and baby clothes, along with sheets and towels for the birth, laid inside. Now, for Hanna and the family, there was little to do except wait.
A well-worn copy of Great Expectations lay next to her on the coffee table, opened facedown to mark the place she’d reached when sleep overtook her. She devoured books the way he had when he was younger. It was just one of the things he liked about her.
Now, as he gazed down at her sleeping face, a surge of protective tenderness almost made him moan out loud. Her fierce courage when roused by danger or a sense of right, her gracious acceptance of her place in his family, and her sweet trust in him moved Blake in a way he’d never known before.
She was his wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish . . .
Those wedding vows had been lies when he’d spoken them. They were lies no longer. He wanted her—all of her. And sometime after the baby was born, when Hanna was ready, he would make her his.
Maybe then, the memory of Mason’s cruel laughter, the memory he’d grown to hate, would leave him forever. And maybe then, he would even forget that the baby he’d legally claimed was his brother’s child.
He was turning to go when she opened her eyes. “Blake, you look troubled,” she said. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” he lied, wanting to protect her from the things he’d learned today, especially about the danger to her family. “How’s your book?” He nodded toward the copy on the table.
“I love it. I understand how Pip must feel, dropped into a comfortable world he’s done nothing to deserve.” Her gaze darted to the windows, where low sunlight slanted through the glass. “It must be getting late. Where is everybody?”
“No one’s home except us and Shep in the kitchen. They should all be here by suppertime. If you’re hungry, I could get you something.”
“Heavens, I’m not an invalid. I can do for myself.” She stirred and tried to get up, struggling to offset the bulk of her belly. With a little chuckle, she sank back onto the pillow.
“But maybe you could give me a hand.”
She took the hand he offered, keeping hold as she swung her feet to the floor and sat up. “Almost there. One more good pull.”
Laughing, she tightened her grip and let him pull her to her feet. Once she regained her balance, she released him. “That’s better, thanks. Now, if I can just—oh!” Her eyes rounded. “Oh, no!” She looked down at her skirt, which was soaked in spots, with water trickling down over her ankles and onto her slippers. “No! This can’t be happening! It’s too soon!”
“The baby.” It wasn’t a question. Blake’s pulse broke into a gallop.