Read Online Wyoming Bride by Joan Johnston - Free Book Online Page B

“My brother’s thinner than me. A pair of his Levi’s might work if you roll up the legs. I washed up your underthings.”
    Hannah blushed at the thought of this man handling her unmentionables. “Would you get them for me? I want to get dressed.”
    “Breakfast first. You need to eat.”
    “I’m not hungry.”
    His lips twisted. “You were half-starved when I found you three days ago. I’ve been pouring a little soup down your throat, but you need some solid food.”
    She stared at him, shocked. “Three days ago? I’ve been here three days ?” Hannah could hear the hysteria in her voice. She put her hands to her head, which throbbed with pain.
    “What’s the problem?” he asked.
    “No no no no no.” There was something she had to remember. Something she had to do . The thought was just beyond her grasp.
    “Take it easy, Mrs. McMurtry.”
    She turned on him and snarled, “Don’t call me that! I’m not a wife. Not anymore. I was never any good at it. I never wanted to be married. I only did it to save—” Hannah’s head felt like it was going to split in two. There was something she should remember. Something she didn’t want to remember. She could see Mr. McMurtry lying in the wagon, his face pale in death. Now who would be a father to her baby?
    Her baby .
    “Oh, my God.”
    “What’s wrong?”
    Hannah closed her eyes and swallowed hard. What an odd thing to remember, when she could recall nothing of the events that had led her to the godforsaken place where she’d been found. How strange that the only things she knew for sure were her name, the fact that she was a widow, the fact that she’d been headed to Cheyenne, and the fact that she was going to be a mother.
    Or was she? Had she lost the baby? She instinctively put her hands to her belly under the table. If she’d miscarried, the stranger would have said something, wouldn’t he? She wasn’t about to ask him about something so personal. She wasn’t bleeding, as one of the women on the wagon train had when she’d miscarried, so she must still be pregnant.
    “You need to eat to get well,” he said, dishing up a plate full of scrambled eggs and crisp bacon and surprisingly fluffy biscuits and setting it in front of her.
    Hannah stared at the food. She wasn’t hungry. But she had to eat for her baby. The dire truth of her situation hit her hard. She had no husband. Her child would have no father. And … And …
    Hannah felt tears well in her eyes. Something terrible had happened. Something awful. Something she needed to remember.
    Whatever it was, she couldn’t bring it to mind. Worse, the harder she tried to remember, the larger the black hole loomed. She would have to do as the stranger suggested. She would have to wait until she was ready to remember.
    Hannah picked up the fork beside the plate and filled it with eggs. She took a bite and chewed and swallowed. When she looked up, the stranger was watching her from a spot near the black, four-top iron stove.
    “Will you join me?” she asked.
    “I ate when the sun came up, ma’am.”
    “Please, sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.
    Clearly reluctantly, he crossed to the table and sat down.
    “My name is Hannah,” she said. “I prefer that to ma’am. What shall I call you?”
    “Flint.”
    “I’m glad to meet you, Flint.” She reached across the table and took the hand he offered. It felt warm and strong. “How can I ever repay you for saving my life?”
    He took a deep breath, grasped her hand more firmly, and said, “You can marry me.”

 
    Flint saw the incredulity on Hannah McMurtry’s face. She laughed, a lovely birdlike trill, as she pulled her hand free.
    The captivating dimples that had appeared on both cheeks disappeared as she sobered. “I must have misheard,” she said. “Did you ask me to marry you?”
    Flint couldn’t believe he’d blurted it out like that. But he didn’t have much time before his brother returned to live