Chapter 6 #2
“With help.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Percy?”
“He tried to stop me.”
“That boy is becoming unreliable.”
“He’s twelve.”
“That is no excuse.”
Eliza checked the blanket over his leg before returning to the kitchen. Jonas noticed Daniel Frost watching her, perhaps waiting until she left to resume his comments.
He did not.
The afternoon light shifted across the floor. The card game ended. New guests arrived, carrying snow into the lobby and stamping it from their boots. Someone added another log to the hearth.
Jonas read until a shadow fell across the page.
He looked up, expecting Percy.
Martha stood beside the chair.
Cold had reddened her cheeks. Loose strands of blonde hair had escaped beneath her hat, and melting snow darkened the shoulders of her coat. Her eyes appeared brighter than they had that morning, though weariness showed around them.
For one instant, Jonas forgot to ask why she had been gone so long.
Then he remembered the Dalrymples.
“My brothers?”
Martha removed her gloves. “I found them.”
Relief came so quickly that it left him lightheaded.
“What did Reuben say?”
“He said you’re an idiot.”
Jonas closed his eyes briefly. “Then you found the right house.”
Martha unfastened her coat but did not take it off. “He and Tobias were preparing the high-wheeled wagon when I left. They’re taking tools, spare rafters, and enough supplies to see the Dalrymples through several days. Reuben said they’ll have a stronger shelter before nightfall.”
Jonas let out a breath he had been holding since the previous morning and rested the book against his knee.
Martha had remembered everything.
He looked at her more carefully. There was no fear in her expression, only satisfaction.
“You weren’t worried?” he asked.
“I carried your letter and a rifle. I felt adequately prepared.”
Martha pulled a nearby chair closer and sat. The ride had left a faint crease across her skirt where it met the saddle. A few strands of hair curled damply near her temples.
Jonas had expected her to return tired, perhaps angry with him for sending her so far.
He had not expected her to look pleased.
“I didn’t think you would go,” he admitted.
Her expression changed. “You gave me the map.”
“I thought you might send someone.”
“You asked me.”
“You could have decided better of it.”
Martha loosened the scarf at her throat. “You know very little about what I’m capable of.”
The statement was not a boast. It sounded closer to a warning.
Jonas believed it.
Kindness had driven her to the river in winter and into the snow-covered country east of town. Something harder had kept her moving when men like Daniel Frost dismissed her and neighbors measured her value by whether she accepted a husband.
Jonas had mistaken her size and careful manner for softness.
She possessed softness. He had seen it in the way Percy looked for her approval and in the care she took cleaning Jonas’s wound.
It simply existed beside a deeply rooted, undeniable strength.
“That appears to be true,” he said.
Martha glanced at the book resting on his knee. “What are you reading?”
He showed her the cover.
She read the title, then turned it toward the light. “Is it good?”
“The hero is determined to make every mistake available to him.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It has kept my attention.”
Martha rested one hand on the arm of her chair. “I used to read novels whenever I could find them. Amos preferred newspapers. He said stories were a poor use of lamp oil.”
Jonas noticed the small pause after her husband’s name.
“And you listened?”
“Not often.”
He smiled.
Martha asked where the story was set. When Jonas explained, she listened closely and asked whether the author had described the harbor accurately. Her questions were specific enough that he realized she had seen more of the country than he first assumed.
“You’ve travelled east?” he asked.
“Farther than I care to travel again.”
The answer closed the subject without satisfying his curiosity.
Jonas watched her as she turned another page near the beginning of the book. Her brow furrowed over a line of print, and the scar through her eyebrow became more visible.
She was beautiful.
The thought arrived without warning and remained despite his effort to dismiss it.
She was no delicate flower, no polished gem of a woman. But she was undeniably beautiful.
Beautiful in the direct way she met his gaze and the certainty with which she occupied the chair beside him, unconcerned by who might object.
Then Jonas noticed the room had quieted again.
Daniel Frost stood near the doorway speaking to one of the women from the window. Both looked toward Martha and Jonas before leaning closer together.
Other guests had noticed too. Their glances passed between the widow and the Native man seated beside her hearth.
Martha either did not see or refused to acknowledge them.
Jonas had no such luxury.
She already carried the town’s judgment for running the inn alone. Being seen with him would add another grievance to the list. Willow Crossing might tolerate his presence while he lay injured and helpless. It would not accept the possibility that Martha chose his company.
He closed the book.
Martha looked at him. “Are you tired?”
“A little.”
It was easier than telling her the truth.
He admired her. More than that, he wanted her to remain beside him and continue asking questions until the fire burned low.
Jonas looked across the room at the people pretending not to watch them.
The town had not changed since his father died.
He doubted it would change for Martha Bellamy.
“Thank you for going,” he said.
Martha’s gaze remained on him for a moment, searching for something behind the words.
Then she stood and fastened her coat again. “Rest before Dr. Keller learns how far you walked.”
Jonas glanced toward the passage. “Percy told you?”
“He didn’t have to. You’re sitting in the common room.”
She left him with the book and crossed toward the front desk, where three guests were already waiting for her.
Jonas watched as her work claimed her full attention.
Only then did he reopen the novel.