Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Something about the name set Rafe on edge. But he tried to show no reaction as he held Hannah’s hand and said, “Go on.”
She looked down at their hands, as if she was too nervous to meet his gaze.
“His father owns a clothing factory not far from the orphanage. Last fall, he began to linger outside our home during times he knew we would leave. Before services on Sundays, mornings when we would walk the younger ones to school, . . .” She trailed off as if lost in thought, and then shuddered.
“It was almost as if he was looking us over to decide which one appealed to him the most.”
“He chose you?” Rafe guessed.
Hannah nodded, looking more miserable than he’d ever seen her.
A spike of anger lodged in his gut, similar to each time he had to see a grave injustice wrought upon someone.
But this was even worse, because it was Hannah.
He didn’t even know what had happened yet, and he was ready to jump on his horse and ride clear to New York to find this Donahue character.
“I didn’t understand at first. I thought he was just being friendly when he joined us walking to the school each morning.
But I figured it out when he tried to take my hand.
When I shied away and Natalie told him I wasn’t interested, he didn’t relent.
And it got worse.” Hannah swallowed, and Rafe tried to wait patiently for her to continue.
“He told me he’d set aside a job for me at his father’s factory, and then got angry when I declined.
The girls and I spotted him lingering outside at all hours.
He spoke with Mrs. Talbott, the lady in charge of the orphanage, and told her he wished to marry me.
He began to find me outside alone . . .” She pressed her lips together against what was clearly a painful memory.
“Did he hurt you?” Rafe had to grind the words out through his teeth. What he wouldn’t give to meet this excuse for a man face to face.
She paused, almost as if she had to think about it.
“No, but he scared me. There was one time, in the little garden we kept behind the orphanage—it was hidden from the alley by a high wall—he found me. It was late, and no one was around. He grabbed me and he wouldn’t let go.
” Hannah squeezed her eyes shut a moment before opening them again.
“I’m sorry about what happened at our wedding.
It was because of that night. I’m forever grateful to one of the young boys for deciding at that moment to come outside to find me because he couldn’t sleep. ”
She gave a shaky smile, and Rafe reached up with his free hand to gently touch her face. “You’re safe here,” he said. “I promise you that.”
Hannah closed her eyes, and it seemed her entire body relaxed at his words. “Thank you,” she said.
He cupped her cheek, realizing how much trust she’d shown him. Especially after the way Donahue had acted. Rafe silently vowed never to break that trust. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to kiss her, he would wait until she was ready.
He withdrew his hand and dropped it to clasp both of her hands in his. “Thank you for telling me about him. What did he say in the letter?”
“You may read it. I wanted to burn it, but I suppose I knew that I ought to show it to you. It’s in the reticule you bought for me, in the top drawer.” She nodded toward the chest of drawers.
Rafe squeezed both her hands before getting up.
He read the letter in silence, quickly one time through, and then two more times until he had the feel of its author through his words.
It took all his strength not to tear the thing into little pieces.
Instead, he refolded it and placed it on top of the chest of drawers.
“Let’s hope this is the last of Mr. Donahue,” he said, forcing a brightness into his words. “I know you’d likely prefer to burn the letter, but let’s keep it for now.”
Hannah’s brow knitted, as if she wished to ask why, but decided against it. “I’d like some of that chicken now, I think.”
“I’ll make you a heaping plate full of it.” Rafe pressed another kiss to her forehead.
And he hoped they’d never need to speak the name Jack Donahue in their house again.
Rafe was just about ready to call it a night a couple of weeks later, when Miss Danforth burst into the sheriff’s office, angrier than a bee caught in a jar.
“Good evening, Miss Danforth.” Jackson greeted her with his usual good humor. He generally filled in several nights a week when Hawk needed time at home, mostly at Lina’s insistence.
“It ain’t a good evening at all, Bart.” The laundress called nearly everyone she met by their Christian names, whether she knew them well or not. The woman didn’t have a shred of formality or manners in her.
“What can we do to help?” Rafe asked.
“There’s about three fellers blocking the steps up to the diner.
Good folks can’t get in for their supper.
I told them to get, even pulled a pistol on them, but they’re either too drunk or too stupid to move.
” She paused. “I considered shooting one of them in the leg, but I figured that would make it harder for him to get out of my way. I shot at the ground instead, but that didn’t do a darned thing to scare them off.
Don’t think they’re much afraid of bullets. ”
Trust Miss Danforth to go shooting to attempt to scare off men twice her size. Rafe counted them lucky she hadn’t stuck a bullet in one of their limbs. Instead, she was here, scowling in all her impatience.
He wasn’t getting home for supper just yet.
Jackson was already shrugging into his jacket. Rafe grabbed his hat, and together they followed Miss Danforth out the door.
The sun was hanging low in the sky, a sign for the saloons in Perseverance to start to come to life.
Rafe lent a practiced eye to each one as they passed, but there was nothing amiss this early in the evening.
As they passed Watson’s, he wondered how the lady who’d found herself married to him was faring.
She’d need to have a backbone of steel to withstand some of the men who frequented the establishment.
Watson didn’t put up with fights or rowdy drunkards, but his clientele was still as rough as every other saloon in town.
“Still there.” Miss Danforth glared at the men in front of the diner. “Lazy lunks. Probably hoping Jenny will give them something for free to get them to leave.”
Rafe assessed the situation. The three men looked like miners from up in the mountains. Clothing streaked with dirt and untrimmed beards gave that away. Two sat on the steps, one behind the other, and the third leaned on the railing.
“Where’s Billy?” Rafe asked Jackson.
“Will,” the larger man corrected him.
Rafe fought the urge to roll his eyes. The younger man had every right to decide what he’d be called, and just after his bride arrived, he’d decided Will was more appropriate.
But it was going to take some time before Rafe would remember it.
“Fine. Where’s Will? He ought to have chased them off by now. ”
“Off serving a warrant.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow at Jackson. “Alone?”
The other man shrugged. “Hawk didn’t seem to think it was much risk. And it pays better than Mrs. Garner pays him to scare off the drunks. Will’s been desperate to make some more money, what with that baby and all.”
“Darn shame, that little thing left by his mother,” Miss Danforth said. She made a disapproving noise with her tongue.
When he found out about the baby, Rafe could barely wrap his mind around Billy Morrell being a father. He still couldn’t, in fact. Billy—Will—was just barely out of boyhood himself. Or so Rafe thought. He realized he actually had no inkling of how old the kid was.
“Right,” he said. “Ready to get this over with? I’ve got a beef stew waiting for me at home.”
Jackson grinned, whether because of the thought of beef stew or because he looked forward to the task at hand, Rafe didn’t know.
Jackson was one of the least offensive men in town, but something about him—whether it was his stature or the way he carried himself after spending years in the Army—intimidated most men bent on ill will.
“Time to move along, gentlemen,” Jackson said, approaching the group.
Miss Danforth watched gleefully from the side, a hand on one of the pistols she wore as if she’d happily take it out and start shooting if they asked her to.
“We’ve every right to sit here,” the man at the top of the steps said. “We’re waiting on our supper.”
“If you’re a paying customer, go inside. If not, then get.” Rafe didn’t have the patience to lobby words back and forth with anyone at the moment. Not when he could be at home with Hannah and his supper.
“Tell you what,” the fellow sitting on the bottom step said. “Get us each a plate, and we’ll be on our way.”
“You got money?” Rafe asked, already knowing the answer.
“I got a couple pennies,” the same man said, causing the others to laugh.
Rafe sighed inwardly. This wasn’t going to happen quickly. He hoped Hannah would keep his plate warm.