Montana Bride (12 page)

He spoke into her ear, so she heard him easily over the fierce, howling wind. “If you want out of this marriage, Hetty, tell me now.”

Hetty stared up at him, shocked at his suggestion. “Do you want out?” she blurted.

“This is about what you want.”

She could have her freedom. She could head back to Cheyenne to discover what had happened to Hannah and Josie. If she couldn’t find them, she could head to Texas to hunt for her eldest sister, Miranda, and two younger brothers, Nick and Harry. She could try to reunite with her family.

Or she could stay where she was. And go on with her life. And remain Karl Norwood’s wife.

The temptation to leave was strong. There was nothing holding her here. Except two children she’d come to love.

Hetty looked into Karl’s shadowed brown eyes and saw the worry there. She wondered just how much he would be hurt if she took him up on his offer. And realized she would never know, because she could never leave the children. She was their mother, for now and always. But Karl didn’t need to know she was making her decision based on
them
rather than
him.

“I’ll stay, Karl, if that’s all right with you.”

She hadn’t realized quite how anxious he was until she felt his shoulders relax. For a moment she thought he would kiss her. But he didn’t.

Then he changed his mind.

His lips were cold when they touched hers but quickly warmed. His tongue came searching, and Hetty opened to him. It was a kiss of possession, fierce despite its brevity. When Karl ended the kiss, Hetty’s nerves felt shattered.

How could a simple kiss from such an ordinary man create such havoc inside her? She didn’t love Karl. In fact, she found his best friend far more physically attractive. She’d remained in Karl’s arms and sought comfort from him under false pretenses, and she’d agreed to stay married to him for reasons that had nothing to do with love.

Hetty didn’t want to consider what her response to Karl’s kiss might mean. How had she become a woman who so callously flirted? Who relished attracting the attention of more than one man? Who needed and wanted to be adored…and didn’t seem to care who did the adoring?

Hetty had a great deal to think about. She wished her mother was still alive. She wished her sisters were near. She felt inadequate, young and inexperienced and
stupid.
She wanted someone older and wiser to tell her what to do.

But she had nowhere else to turn. She was going to have to look into her own heart and follow it.

She met Karl’s gaze, tugged her wool coat tight, and said, “Good night, Karl.”

He put a finger to the brim of his hat in acknowledgment. “Good night, Hetty.”

Hetty scooted under the wagon through the opening Karl had left in the tarp and sought her pallet beside Grace. To her surprise, the girl was awake.

“I saw you,” Grace whispered.

“What?”

“I saw you kissing him,” the girl said, her voice dripping with accusation.

“Karl is my husband, Grace,” Hetty said in her defense.

“Just be careful, Hetty,” the girl warned. “Men always want more than kisses.”

Hetty opened her mouth to ask what Grace meant and shut it again. Poor Grace. She’d obviously seen far more of her mother’s business activities than any child should have. Hetty knew she should explain to Grace that what happened between a husband and wife was far different from what Grace’s mother had experienced with her customers. But the girl had already turrned her back on Hetty.

It took a very long time for Hetty to fall asleep. Before she could explain to Grace the difference between selling one’s body for money and sharing one’s body for love, she was going to have to make peace with her decision to marry Karl Norwood. Because love would likely be no part of it when she finally gave herself to her husband.

Karl was the first one up the next morning. He hadn’t, in fact, done much sleeping. The roiling questions in his head had kept him awake. In another day, or at most two, they would reach the cabin. He probably shouldn’t have asked Hetty whether she wanted to stay married to him. Her answer had come with enough hesitation to make him wonder how close she’d come to giving him a different answer.

The thought of making love to a reluctant woman had given him nightmares. He wasn’t sure whether he felt relieved or more anxious now that his wife had agreed to continue the marriage.

Karl had always been realistic about his looks. He would never have had the courage to court such an incredibly lovely woman. A great deal of his reluctance to accept the unexpected gift of a beautiful wife was the knowledge that Hetty might always yearn for a husband equal to her in good looks. In short, that she might never be able to love him.

But had love ever been a realistic expectation when he’d acquired a bride sight unseen? Karl had been pleased that his mail-order bride had never requested details of his appearance. Now he questioned why a woman as beautiful as Hetty had wanted to become a mail-order bride. Which brought him back to square one.

Did he want to be married to Hetty? It didn’t matter, really, because unless Hetty wanted out—and she’d said she didn’t—it would be difficult to undo the wedding. And Karl was honest enough, and human enough, to admit he was looking forward to the day when he could make love to his bride.

Bao appeared at Karl’s side, wading through the two feet of snow that had drifted to six feet around the wagon, and said, “Storm not over.”

“Of course it is,” Karl replied, glancing up at an almost clear blue sky.

Bao shook his head. He pointed to the dark, lowering clouds in the distance. “More snow coming.”

Karl didn’t know how the Chinaman was able to predict the weather, but he’d been right more often than not. “Guess that means we’d better get everyone up and moving.”

“I make breakfast,” Bao said. “You wake wife and kids.”

Karl untied the tarp wrapped around the wagon and let it fall down to reveal the three inside. Except, there were only two heads—one blond, one redheaded—visible under a pile of blankets. The third pallet was empty.

Karl looked for footsteps in the snow or any sign that Griffin might have woken up early and gone to answer a call of nature. The snow was pristine. The kid must have left sometime during the night.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “Hetty, wake up! Grace, where’s your brother?”

Grace was startled awake and looked bleary-eyed at Karl. “What do you mean?” She glanced around long enough to realize Griffin wasn’t under the wagon with them and said, “Isn’t he outside with you?”

“Would I be asking where he is if he was out here with me?” Karl replied acerbically. “There are no tracks in the snow. Did he say anything about taking off on his own?”

Neither female had undressed except to pull off her shoes, and both Hetty and Grace quickly pulled their shoes back on, tied the laces, grabbed their coats, and bounded from beneath the wagon.

Grace looked in every direction without moving. Hetty looked only at him.

“Are you sure he’s missing?” Hetty said. “Maybe he just—”

“Look around you,” Karl interrupted. “Do you see any footprints leading away from the wagon?”

Hetty searched the ground. “Maybe there are some at the back of the wagon.”

“I already looked. There’s no sign of anybody leaving the wagon after the snow stopped.”

Hetty’s eyes were wide with shock. She turned to Grace and asked, “Why on earth would he run away?”

Grace sobbed once before she could control herself enough to speak. “Griffin told me that he didn’t tie down Mr. Campbell’s horse. That when Dennis went looking this morning his horse would be gone. I told him I was sick and tired of his games, and he’d better find that horse and get him back before morning or he wasn’t my brother anymore. But I was angry. I didn’t mean it!”

“Of course you didn’t,” Hetty said, taking the girl in her arms. She looked up at Karl with desperate eyes. “You have to find him, Karl.”

Karl knew the horse would have wandered with its tail to the wind. There was no telling how far Griffin had gone while hunting for it, or whether he’d even gone off in the same direction as the horse. If Bao was right, there was more snow and cold on the way. The boy might slide into a deep drift, freeze to death in the cold, and not be found until spring. “I’ll do my best, Hetty. The rest of you need to finish the journey without me.”

“We can’t leave!” Hetty said. “What if Griffin comes back here and we’re all gone? He won’t know where to look for us.”

“Bao says there’s more snow coming. I want you and Grace out of the weather. Once you arrive at the logging camp, Dennis and Bao can get mounts and come help me with the search. That is, if I haven’t already found Griffin.”

Hetty’s worried gaze told him that she suspected how slim the chances were that he would find the missing boy, especially if the weather worsened.

“Please let me help you look for him,” she begged.

“Take me, too,” Grace pleaded.

“You can both help me best by getting to the logging camp safe and sound,” Karl said, steeling himself against the tears in both sets of eyes.

“Breakfast ready, Boss,” Bao said.

“Get everybody fed and get on the trail,” he told the Chinaman. “I’m going hunting for Griffin.”

“Boy not here?” Bao asked.

“He went hunting for Dennis’s horse, which must have slipped its picket during the storm.” Karl didn’t know why he’d lied about what had really happened. Except he didn’t want any more trouble between Dennis and Griffin. Assuming he got Griffin back.

“When you get to the camp,” Karl continued, “get Hetty and Grace settled at the house. If I’m not back with Griffin by tonight, you and Dennis can come looking for both of us in the morning.”

Karl didn’t give Hetty a chance to argue further, simply gathered the survival supplies he needed and headed off to saddle his horse.

As Karl was mounting, Dennis came out of the tent and asked, “Where are you headed so early?”

“Griffin’s missing. I’m going to hunt him down.”

“Wait a minute and I’ll join you.”

“Griffin went hunting for your horse. It’s gone.”

Dennis swore. “I knew better than to trust that brat to take care of him.”

“That ‘brat’ went out into the storm to find your mount. I don’t want to hear another word about it,” Karl retorted. “Bao says there’s more weather coming. Do your best to get everybody to the logging camp before it hits.”

Before Dennis could say more, Karl kicked his mount and headed in the direction the wind had been blowing last night. With any luck, the horse—and the boy following it—hadn’t gone far.

Hetty spent the first night in her new log home praying that Griffin would be found alive. Grace was inconsolable. She was certain her brother had frozen to death. Hetty was also worried about Karl. He knew everything there was to know about plants, but what did he know about unrelenting snow and ruthless wind and brutal temperatures? What were his chances of finding one little boy in this vast, hostile wilderness?

Instead of going to bed in what was clearly Karl’s bedroom, Hetty had settled into one of the two willow rockers she’d found in front of the river-rock fireplace in the parlor. She’d wrapped herself in a blanket and kept vigil through the night. By the time dawn arrived, Hetty was physically and emotionally drained. The wind still howled, and icy fingers of cold slipped between cracks in the log chinking. Karl had not returned with Griffin. Even if he’d found the boy, Hetty knew they must be suffering terribly without shelter from the storm. Dennis and Bao had checked in with her this morning before they’d ventured out into the frozen wasteland to search for Karl and Griffin.

Hetty’s heart physically ached. It couldn’t be the fear of losing Karl. She’d only known him a matter of weeks, although it hadn’t taken much more time than that to fall in love with Clive. Except, she wasn’t in love with Karl. She wasn’t sure she could ever open her heart to another man. She was never going through that kind of pain again.

No, her heart must be aching for Griffin. He reminded her of her little brother, Nick, who was nearly the same age, even to the devilry the boy seemed always to get into.

“Mom?”

Hetty turned at the whispered word and opened her arms to Grace, who’d left the bedroom she should have shared with her brother last night and now crawled into Hetty’s lap, wrapping her arms tightly around Hetty’s neck.

“They didn’t come back,” Grace said against Hetty’s throat.

“Karl’s a very smart man. He’s probably holed up somewhere with Griffin right now, waiting out the storm. They’ll come riding up to the cabin as soon as the sun comes out.”

“Do you really believe that?” Grace asked, lifting her head to look into Hetty’s eyes.

“I want to believe it,” Hetty said, unwilling to lie to the girl. “We mustn’t lose hope now.”

“I don’t know how I’ll live with myself if anything happens to Griffin,” Grace said in a choked voice. “I don’t know why I said what I did. I would never abandon him. Never! I was just so angry with him.”

“It’s only human to lose patience now and again with those closest to us.” Hetty vividly remembered her twin raging at her after Mr. McMurtry died, blaming her for everything that had gone wrong. And yet, Hannah had gone off into the wilderness to find help when Hetty was wounded, begging her to stay alive, reminding Hetty that they were bound together forever as two halves of one precious whole.

“What if Griffin dies believing I don’t love him?” Grace asked in an anguished voice.

Hetty rubbed Grace’s back as though she were a much younger child and said, “You know better than that, Grace. Griffin knows you love him.” As she’d known Hannah loved her, even when she was raging. As Hannah must have known she was loved by Hetty.

“But I said—”

“Griffin knew you were angry. The fact that he went out into the storm is proof that he loves you as much as you love him.” Surely a just God wouldn’t allow Griffin to freeze to death in the cold. Or remain lost forever…or until the snow melted in the spring, revealing his corpse. Hetty had lost too many people in her life already. She didn’t think she could bear to lose any more.

Come back, Karl, and bring Griffin back with you safe and sound. Please, please come back.

Hetty closed her eyes and continued rocking.

The door burst open and a blast of frigid air flooded the cabin. Hetty shoved Grace off her lap and whirled to find Karl staggering through the doorway with Griffin in his arms.

“Griffin!” Grace cried.

Hetty met Karl’s brown eyes beneath brows layered with ice and saw the angst there. Then she looked at the boy in his arms, whose eyes were closed and whose face was as white as the snow gusting through the door.

“I figured I’d better get him back here in a hurry, instead of waiting out the storm. He looked frozen solid when I found him,” Karl said as he headed for the children’s bedroom, on the right side of the cabin.

Hetty studied the child’s closed eyes and his chalk white face. She looked desperately for a pulse at his throat but didn’t see one. “Is he still alive?”

“His pulse is shallow, but he’s got one,” Karl replied.

Hetty hurried after him on one side, while Grace held on to any part of Griffin she could reach on the other side. Once they reached the bedroom, Hetty pulled the covers down on the twin bed that hadn’t been used the previous night.

“Where’s Bao?” Karl asked as he laid Griffin down.

“He rode out with Dennis at first light to find you.”

Karl looked grim. “I’d better go look for him.”

“You can’t go back out into that storm!” Hetty cried.

“We need his knowledge to save Griffin’s hands and feet,” Karl said, turning to leave.

“Wait!” Hetty squeezed her eyes closed and thought back over the things Bao had taught her during the week before they’d arrived in Butte, desperate to recall whether he’d ever said anything about treating someone with frostbite or pneumonia or whatever else might be wrong with Griffin.

She heard Mr. Lin’s broken English saying,
If skin not black, warm water—not hot—to thaw frozen fingers and toes.
He’d said to do something else if the fingers and toes were black, but Hetty couldn’t remember what that was. She hurried to where Griffin lay on the bed and pulled the mittens off his hands. His fingers were a grayish yellow.

“His fingers are frostbitten,” she said. “Take off his boots, Karl.”

She turned to Grace, who was standing stock-still beside the bed, and ordered, “Go get the pot of water boiling on the hob.” When Grace didn’t move she said, “Now, Grace. Go!”

Grace sobbed and ran from the room.

“Did you have to yell at her?” Karl said. “She’s scared.”

“So am I!” Hetty shot back. “Get those shoes and socks off him.”

When the first sock came off, Hetty saw the damage to Griffin’s feet was far worse than to his hands. The little toe on his left foot, where his sock had a corresponding hole, was dark purple. “We need to defrost his fingers and toes with warm water. Not hot,” she said, repeating what Bao had taught her.

“I’ll go get some snow to cool the water from the hob,” Karl said. “Can you finish undressing him?”

Hetty nodded, then began unbuttoning Griffin’s coat. Before Karl got to the bedroom door she turned to him and said, “As soon as I’ve taken care of him, I want to check you for frostbite.”

“I’m fine, Hetty,” Karl said.

“We’ll see about that when you get back,” she said. “Now go. Get me some snow.”

Hetty had kept water boiling on the fire to make coffee when Karl returned. After Grace set the pot of water on a rough pine side table, Hetty asked the girl to retrieve three bowls and as many dishcloths as she could find. “We can all work on warming Griffin at the same time.”

Hetty parsed out the boiling water into the three bowls, then made it less hot with chunks of snow Karl had brought back into the house. She handed Karl and Grace each a cloth, took two for herself, and said, “We need to gently warm his flesh until the blood comes back into it. It won’t be pleasant for him. It’s going to feel like someone’s stabbing him with needles, or like his skin is on fire. His flesh may blister. I don’t know how long he’ll stay unconscious. Let’s work quickly, before he wakes up.”

She stripped Griffin to his smalls and covered him with several blankets, leaving his hands and feet exposed. She wrapped warm dishcloths around both of his hands while Karl and Grace each worked on a wounded foot. As soon as the cloths cooled, they replaced them with warm ones.

They hadn’t been working long when Griffin’s eyes fluttered open. He moaned and writhed at the pain and mumbled, “Where am I? How did I get here?”

“Be still,” Hetty said quietly, putting a hand to his chest to hold him in place when he tried to sit up.

“What’s going on? What’s all this?” he asked, holding up his cloth-covered hands.

He struggled to be free, but Karl said, “Lie still,” in a firm voice, and the fight went right out of him.

“You’re safe,” Hetty said in a soothing voice. “We’re in Karl’s cabin in the Bitterroot. You were lost in the storm. Karl found you and brought you here.”

“Mr. Campbell’s horse?” Griffin said.

Hetty glanced at Karl, who shook his head.

Tears streamed down Griffin’s white face as his gaze focused on Grace. “I’m sorry, Grace. I couldn’t find him. I tried. Really, I did.” He began to cry in great, gulping sobs and to thrash on the bed, dislodging the warming cloths. The harder he cried, the more hysterical Grace became.

“Griffin, you need to lie still while we treat your frostbite,” Hetty said sharply. The girl’s crying wasn’t helping. “Grace, go put some more water on the hob to boil. When it’s hot, make us all a cup of coffee.”

“Lie still, boy,” Karl said in a stern voice, “if you want to save your hands and feet.”

Griffin didn’t move again or say a word of complaint over the next half hour, just shuddered and moaned as the blood slowly but surely returned to his fingers and toes. At least, most of his toes. The small toe on his left foot stayed an ominous dark purple.

When Hetty was certain Griffin’s hands were warmed, she instructed Grace to continue to replace the cloths on his hands and feet with warm ones. Then she took Karl’s still-gloved hand and led him to their bedroom.

She made him sit on the bed and one by one pulled off his heavy leather gloves. His hands weren’t yellowish-gray, like Griffin’s, but they were very cold and parchment white. “Oh, Karl,” Hetty said in dismay. “You should have let me treat your hands sooner.”

“They’ve been thawing while I worked on Griffin.”

“Bao told me a way to warm them quickly,” she said. “If you’re willing to try.”

“Sure,” Karl replied.

Hetty sat down beside him on the bed, then reached for one of his hands and placed it under one of her arms, in the warmth of her armpit. She took his other hand and did the same thing with the other armpit. She was embarrassed to have him touch her so intimately, but she reminded herself that this had nothing to do with seduction and everything to do with saving a man’s hands.

She looked everywhere except into Karl’s eyes.

“How long does this cure take?” Karl asked.

She heard the humor in his voice and glanced up at him. “Until your hands are warm.”

“Well, my heart’s certainly pumping a lot harder than it was a minute ago, so I suspect that won’t take long.”

Hetty accepted the farce in the situation. Nevertheless, she felt breathless at the way Karl’s hands grazed the sides of her breasts. She searched for a topic of conversation to make their closeness feel less awkward and said, “How did you find Griffin?”

“I headed in the direction the wind was blowing and prayed.”

“So it was prayer that saved him?”

“More like blind luck,” Karl said. “Griffin was sitting with his back braced against a ponderosa pine. I rode right past him without seeing him. Thank God he was wearing a scarf with some fringe. The wind caught the fringe, and I saw something red move out of the corner of my eye.”

“Was he awake? Was he aware?”

Karl shook his head. “The kid was half covered in snow and looked frozen solid,” he said in a voice rough with emotion. “If I hadn’t seen him…”

His voice drifted off, and Hetty knew they’d come within a hairsbreadth of losing Griffin. She glanced at Karl and saw his eyelids were sliding closed.

“You must be exhausted. You should lie down,” she said.

His eyes opened and he stared at her.

“You’re half asleep already,” she said. “I don’t want you falling on the floor and hitting your head.” She managed a lopsided smile. “I don’t want to have to treat you for a concussion.” Bao hadn’t yet gotten to that lesson.

He smiled back at her, then pulled his hands free, stood, and unbuttoned his coat. She took it as he slid it off his shoulders and laid it across a ladder-back chair in the corner. He stood where he was for a moment in his red-and-black-plaid wool shirt, apparently unsure what to do next. She hurried to pull the covers down on the bed and said, “Sit down and let me take off your boots.”