Hannah's Dream (31 page)

Mrs. Gray's social was the main social event in High Bend, and fathers with marriageable girls would gladly open their purses to outfit their daughters.  Competition was fierce as eligible men were in short supply.  Ordinary ranch hands wouldn't due.  To be considered a "catch," a man had to have prospects.  Sons of farmers and ranchers were at the top of the list.  Then professional men such as shopkeepers, and perhaps doctors.  The girls would prepare for weeks in advance by making dresses, cleaning shoes, and helping each other learn how to fix their hair like Charles Dane Gibson's models.

Sometimes there was only one man that all the girls had their eye on.  This year it was the new doctor, and they all dreamed of waltzing across Mrs. Gray's ballroom in his arms.  Mrs. Gray had no daughters.  She was the only child of a rancher and had vied for the attentions of Mr. Gray with a certain Thelma Green and had won, but the competition had been hard on Emma.  When she recalled some of the things she said about poor Thelma Green, who had been her best friend, she felt deep shame.  As a result, she wouldn't tolerate any shenanigans during the social.  With the invitations, she sent a letter reminding everyone that the strictest social etiquette would be observed for the duration of the social and all guests had better be on their best behavior.

Hannah was looking forward to the event.  It would be the first social affair she'd been to since the ball at her high school, and she wanted to dance.  She hoped the doctor was an accomplished dancer and not one of those men who would step on her toes.

Since tending to her Uncle James, Hannah had seen Owen on only one occasion while she was in town shopping.  He had been polite, but something had changed.  His eyes didn't twinkle when he saw her and he seemed to be distracted.  She thought his behavior odd and wished Marian would tell her what she and Owen had talked about, but Marian just kept saying he had a patient to tend.  He was different toward Hannah, though, and she knew it had to be more than that.  She hoped whatever it was would work itself out before the social and Owen would act the way he had before.

Her relationship with Adam had changed, too.  He had taken over some of James' duties, one of which was to escort Hannah to town, and she was getting to know him.  At first, she thought he was dull and thoughtless because of the things he would say, but during their rides into town, Adam began to talk about growing up in St. Louis, how he had come to Colorado, and how he had come to work for James.  The more she understood what his life had been like, the more she understood his reticence.  Adam wasn't thoughtless at all, but intelligent and introspective.

Adam's uncle, Ezekiel Kane, was a hard-drinking man who worked on a river barge.  He had fought for the South during the Civil War and had come home a bitter, defeated man.  He married Jerusha Brandt, a gaunt, tight-lipped woman whose father paid one hundred dollars to Ezekiel to marry his taciturn daughter.  Ezekiel thought that was a grand sum and took it without thinking what it would be like to stare at Jerusha across the table at supper every night.

Ezekiel's sister and her husband, Adam's parents, died during the Gale of '78, a terrible hurricane that battered the east coast of the United States.  They lived in Baltimore, and they had left Adam in the house while they tried to save their livestock.  

They were driving the cattle into the barn when flooding washed them and their cattle away.  Their bodies were found when the water receded, and a neighbor found young Adam standing in front of his house waiting for his parents to return.  The house had withstood the flood waters, and little Adam had survived by climbing onto the kitchen table.

When the neighbor identified Adam's parents' bodies, authorities located Ezekiel as next of kin and the boy was sent to St. Louis.  Jerusha was not pleased to have the boy under her roof.  She didn't like boys.  She hated dirt in her house and the smell of sweaty boys.  And she didn't like sharing what little they had with him either.

Adam would often go to bed hungry because Jerusha thought feeding him once a day was sufficient.  He grew thin and when Mrs. Walker, the widow lady who helped Adam with the rabbits, saw him, she took pity on young Adam and made him sandwiches or gave him cookies.

Adam endured Jerusha's abuse for ten years.  When she felt he was old enough to be on his own, she persuaded Ezekiel, with the help of a bottle of whiskey, to send the boy west to find work.  When Ezekiel sobered up, he was reluctant to send Adam away, but Jerusha insisted he keep his word.  Ezekiel knew she could make his life a living hell and complied.  He took Adam to the train, bought a train ticket to Colorado, and gave him five dollars.

"Don't tell your aunt," he said.

He left Adam on the platform and never looked back.

When Hannah heard his story, her heart went out to him.  She couldn't imagine losing both her parents that way, or living with people who only cared for themselves.  Considering the way he was treated, Adam was a kind, considerate person, and Hannah admired him.

With each ride into town, Hannah felt herself growing closer to Adam.  They would talk about the beauty of Colorado and he would ask her questions about the beach in New Jersey.

"I miss it," she said.

"Maybe you'll go back one day," he replied.

"Maybe, but I do love Colorado, too."

"You could go just to visit your friend."

"Louise would like that.  Did I tell you she inherited Mrs. Mason's house?"

"Was that the lady who sent her out here?"

"Yes.  I can't believe she left her everything.  She must have truly loved Louise."

"Louise is a nice girl.  I liked her," Adam said.

For a second, Hannah's jealousy reared its head, but she dismissed it immediately.  Adam was free to like anyone he chose.  He wasn't bound to Hannah.

He's just my friend,
she thought.

But deep in her heart, Hannah knew Adam was more to her than a friend.  She liked his quiet ways and the way he would look at her when she spoke to him.  There was nothing false about Adam.  He was exactly as he appeared.  Hannah was falling in love with him.

After the trips to town with Adam, Hannah considered telling Owen she couldn't go to the social with him.  She had asked Adam to drop her off at his office on the way to town so she could talk to him, but when he answered the door, she was tongue-tied and unable to say what she wanted to say.  She worried about how he would feel, and decided to just let things be as they were.  She asked Owen some questions about James' recovery and left.  She noted again that Owen was acting strangely and thought about asking why outright, but that could wait until they went to the social.

Sometimes, she and Adam would have lunch at the small café next to the hotel.  She liked looking at him from across the table and how comfortable they were together now.  He also liked looking at her.  Her strawberry blond curls and brown eyes glowed under the new electric lights installed above each table.  He loved to hear her talk about art.

She came alive when she talked about colors and brush strokes, and even though he didn't share her enthusiasm for art per se, he understood what it was like to love something so much.  He felt that way when he was breaking a horse.  The feel of the animal as it came under his spell was glorious.  As the horse calmed down and responded to his commands, Adam felt the joy of accomplishment, as Hannah felt when she completed a painting.

This meeting of the minds became the foundation for their relationship.  Each understood the other in a new way, and Adam, who was already smitten with her, was now deeply in love, too.  He longed to tell her how he felt, and started to more than once, but she seemed intent on going to the social with the doctor, so Adam didn't think she thought of him that way.  He didn't know if he could be content remaining her friend, but at least it gave him the opportunity to be near her.

Chapter 54

Jean woke up with a start.  He thought he heard someone trying to open the door to his room, so he lay still.  The only sound he heard were birds in the tree outside his window.

He sat and put his feet on the floor.  As he did every day, he thought about Hannah.  He wondered what she was doing and imagined her standing on the hill in front of her easel, her eyes narrowed as she focused all her attention on her subject -- the mountains in the distance.  He had watched her paint and longed to run to her and take her in his arms.

One day, he was about to do just that when he saw a man ride up the hill.  The man went to Hannah and looked at her painting.  Jean saw the way the man looked at her, and the way she looked at him.  Anger rose inside him and he had to leave before he did something foolish.

He stood and went to the wash basin and splashed water on his face.  He looked at his reflection in the mirror over the washstand and ran his fingers over his beard.

Will Hannah like it?
he thought.

He couldn't stop thinking of her.  He kept imagining lying with her and feeling her soft skin pressed against his, and her passion matching his own.  He knew she loved him.  She had been coy and shy, but underneath she had been seething with desire for him.  He remembered standing behind her as he watched her paint.  She would turn and smile at him, and he could see the love she had for him in her eyes.  Then he would notice Louise, whose easel was in front of Hannah's, looking at him with such contempt that it would spoil everything.

He put on his dungarees and flannel shirt and wrinkled his nose in disgust.  It was all part of the ruse, a disguise he had to assume while he considered what to do next.  He was still angry at the stupid boy from the Half Moon Saloon.

He'd been staying in the abandoned sheep farm house and that night, he decided to go to the Half Moon Saloon for a drink.  He'd been there before and liked it.  He could sit at a table in the corner and no one would bother him.

Jean rode Jasper to town and hitched him to the post outside the saloon.  He pulled the slate and chalk out of his saddle bag and went into the bar.  When he arrived in High Bend, he thought it was best no one know he was French, so he purchased the slate with the idea of pretending to be a deaf mute.  He would communicate with shopkeepers by writing on it.  Most of the business people in town knew how to read, so he'd been able to get by without anyone hearing his accent.

His beard was longer, too.  His appearance was a far cry from the one in Evan's newspaper photo.  No one would think the deaf mute from out of town was the handsome young clean-shaven Frenchman in that photograph unless, like Yvette, they knew him well.

At the bar, he wrote "whiskey" on the slate and showed the bartender, who poured him a shot.  Jean took the shot to a table near the wall.  There was a boy sitting at the table in front of his with Sally, one of the saloon girls.  Jean wasn't paying much attention to them until he heard the boy say something about the house on the abandoned sheep farm.

"I didn't know Mr. Hughes had rented it out.  I forgot to tell Tom and I know he's gonna tan my hide."

"Oh, sugar," Sally said as she stroked his hand.  "Old Tom will have to catch you first, and that old codger can't move too fast no more."

They both laughed and Jean hoped the boy would say more.  He had to be sure the kid was talking about his farm house.

"How do you know someone is stayin' there?" Sally said. "Did you see a horse?"

"I saw smoke comin' out of the chimney."

It was his farm house.  He cursed himself.  He had thrown water on the smoldering embers without thinking.  He was only lighting a fire at night so the smoke wouldn't be seen, but he wanted to leave the house that morning and didn't want to leave the embers to perhaps start a fire.  After he doused them, he realized there would be smoke, but it was too late.  The boy had seen it.  He'd tell his boss and they'd come looking.  He'd have to deal with the boy and clear out in a day or two.

He hoped the boy wouldn't go upstairs with Sally, but the way they were spooning, he wasn't sure.  A tall man came over to the table and threw two bits down in front of Sally.  She gave the man a sly smile then turned to the boy.

"Grady, I have to go upstairs with Willie.  I'll see you next time."

Jean watched the boy as Sally went up the stairs with Willie.  He looked heartbroken.  Another cowboy walked over to Grady's table and stood in front of it.

"Did you tell Tom you were leavin'?" the cowboy said.

Grady kept his eyes on the table.  "I tried, T.J., but he was asleep."

"And you knew he wouldn't let you leave.  You were supposed to stay on the ranch.  You don't get a Saturday night off until you've earned it.  Now go back and don't let me see you in here again lessen I say so."

Grady waited till the cowboy walked away before getting up.  He looked around to see if anyone was watching and saw Jean sitting at the table behind him.  He blushed.  Grady then ran out the swinging doors.  Jean waited five minutes before following him.

There was only one road leading to the ranch and Jean didn't have to see the boy to know which way he had gone.  He had Margret's pistol in his pocket, but he didn't want to shoot the boy because it would make noise.  He needed something that would knock the boy off his horse, something that would break his skull.

Jean knew there was a blacksmith shop near the end of town, so he urged Jasper forward.  As he passed the shop, he turned left and went to the back of the shop.  He slid off Jasper and went to the back door of the smithy.  He hoped the smith hadn't locked it.

Duke the smithy had locked the door.  Jean cursed and looked for a window.  The back of the shop was solid wood, but there was a window in the side wall.  He pulled it up and it opened.  Once inside, he went straight to the long table against the back wall and took a hammer out of the slots.  He didn't linger in the shop.  He had to catch up to Grady.

The darkness gave him cover as he rode toward Grady.  He could barely make out the boy's shape ahead of him.  He wanted to hit Grady with the hammer the first time he swung.  He didn't want to give the kid a chance to take off on his horse.  The gap between them was growing shorter and Jean could hear Grady singing.  He was glad; the sound would guide the hammer in his hand to Grady's head.