Montana Bride (8 page)

“There’s nothing else? Everything’s out in the open?”

Hetty wondered what else it was he expected her to confess. She decided to tell him how difficult life had been for all of them in the past, and began, “The children had—”

“I know they had different fathers,” Karl interrupted. “I don’t care whether you got pregnant before you were married, or cheated on your former husband. That’s between you and him.”

Hetty stared at Karl aghast. “Is that what you think?”

“I’m a botanist, Hetty. I study the biology of plants. Which is how I know Grace and Griffin are at most half siblings and likely older than the ages you gave me.”

Hetty didn’t know what to say. All those lies brought into the open should have cleared the air, but she felt suffocated by the truth. Or at least, as much of the story they’d concocted as Karl had been able to unravel. Luckily, he still seemed to believe she was Grace and Griffin’s mother.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

“I want you to stop lying,” he said bluntly.

Hetty’s face felt hot. She was having trouble meeting Karl’s gaze, but she made herself look him in the eye when she said, “All right. Is that all?”

“Do your grieving, Hetty. Get over Clive. Because there’s only room for one man in this marriage.”

Karl offered a tin plate of beef and beans to Hetty that Bao had prepared and said, “Eat up.”

She stared at the plate without taking it. They’d stopped for the day at the stream, even though the sun hadn’t yet started down. “If Griffin can’t eat supper, I’m not eating, either.”

Karl shot a look in Griffin’s direction. The boy was sitting on a dead log whittling hard and fast so the shavings landed in the fire, creating flares of yellow light.

“Griffin’s being punished for not doing his chores,” Karl said. He held the plate out to her. “Here. Take it.”

Hetty crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

“If Mom and Griffin aren’t eating, neither am I,” Grace chimed in, crossing to stand beside Hetty.

“If nobody else is eating, guess I’d better put down my plate,” Dennis said, grinning at Karl from his seat on a flat stone as he set his plate down.

Karl felt frustration welling up inside him. The wind hissed angrily through the evergreens and he felt like joining in. He was being treated like the bad guy here, when he was only trying to instill a sense of responsibility in a growing boy. He glanced toward Bao, who sat on the other end of the same log as Griffin, calmly smoking his long clay pipe. “I know you have an opinion, Bao. Let’s have it.”

“Confucius say: ‘To go beyond is as wrong as to fall short.’ ”

Karl’s balled fists landed on his hips. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means your punishment doesn’t fit the crime,” Hetty said. “It’s too harsh. I know what it feels like to go to bed hungry, and no child of mine is ever going to suffer like that.”

Karl wondered again about the woman he’d married. Going to bed hungry? What kind of desperate life had Hetty been leading before she’d become his bride?

“And I wish you wouldn’t swear in front of the children,” she added.

“Hell and damnation,” Karl muttered under his breath.

Hetty glared at him, her arms still crossed over her chest like a schoolmarm, and tapped her toe in disapproval.

Karl looked to Dennis for support, but his friend had settled a booted ankle on the opposite knee and was focused on rolling a smoke. Karl glanced toward Griffin and saw the boy was smirking at him in triumph.

He turned to Hetty. “Am I that boy’s father now, or not?”

Hetty looked startled by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I think the question was pretty simple,” Karl said. “Yes? Or no?”

“Yes,” Hetty said. “But—”

“But nothing,” Karl interrupted. He crossed to Griffin and said, “Put that knife away and come with me.”

The boy didn’t look nearly so confident with Karl towering over him. Griffin glanced toward Hetty, who was too far away to be any help, then up at Karl and blustered, “I don’t have to do what you say.”

Karl turned to Hetty again. “Yes? Or no?”

It was easy to read the myriad emotions crossing Hetty’s face: fear, anxiety, hope, reluctance, anxiety, fear, and finally hope again. “Griffin, put away your knife and do as your father says.”

Griffin’s chin took on an angry, stubborn tilt as several more shavings flared in the fire. “He’s not my pa.”

Karl was watching Griffin as Grace said quietly, “This is what we dreamed about Griffin. A mother
and
a father. A real family.” Grace’s eyes brimmed with tears that glittered in the setting sunlight.

Griffin took one look at her and snapped, “Fine!” He threw the piece of wood, which Karl realized had become a horse’s head with a flying mane, into the fire. Then the boy stood, stuck the sharp knife into a worn leather sheath tied to his belt, and said, “Let’s go.”

“Karl!” Hetty called out to him.

He stopped and glanced at her over his shoulder. “What?”

Her heart was in her eyes.
Don’t hurt him. Be gentle. He needs love, not pain.
But she only said, “He’s just a little boy.”

The sudden knot in his throat surprised Karl and kept him from saying anything as he followed Griffin away from the fire. There was still enough sunlight to see in the grassy circle where they’d camped, but Griffin kept going until they reached a Douglas fir at the edge of the clearing, where the boy’s sullen face was lost in the deepening shadows.

Griffin searched out a white-trunked aspen among the stand of pungent evergreens, peeled a switch from one of the bare, wind-whipped branches, and handed it to Karl. “Here. Go ahead and give me some licks. I deserve it.”

Karl took the switch without thinking, then searched out the gleam of the boy’s dark eyes in the shadows and said, “I know it must have been difficult for you and Grace to leave your home in Cheyenne to come to the Montana Territory.”

Griffin snorted. “Not hardly.”

“Why not? What was wrong with it?”

Griffin opened his mouth to speak and snapped it shut again.

Karl waited him out.

Finally, Griffin said, “Grace is the one who wanted a pa, not me. I was happy with the way things were.”

“With just you and Grace and your mother, you mean,” Karl said.

Griffin kicked at a pile of rotten leaves with the toe of his boot. “Yeah. With just us.”

“Your ma said your father died shortly after you were born, and that you haven’t had a father for most of your life. I’d like to be your pa if you’ll let me.”

“I don’t see the big deal about having a pa. All you’ve done so far is order me around and ask me to work like a dog.”

Karl choked back the laugh that sought voice because he knew it wouldn’t help his efforts to discipline the boy. He tried to remember what role his own father had played in his life. Mostly, he’d been absent. Or absorbed in projects with Karl’s older brother.

Karl had never really thought much about parenting his mail-order bride’s children, because they were supposedly seven and nine—still young enough to be tied to their mother’s apron strings. Whatever his age, Griffin was already clever enough to manipulate the world around him. He needed a man to guide him and set an example for him.

Karl had thought about the kind of father he wanted to become, which was the kind of father he’d wished he had. “Fathers teach their sons to be men of character and honesty,” he said. “They teach the importance of working hard to get what you want, of being responsible for yourself, and taking good care of those you love.”

“I take care of myself just fine,” Griffin retorted. “I don’t need help from anyone.”

“What about taking care of those you love?”

“Grace is pretty good at taking care of herself, too,” Griffin said.

“What about your mother?” Karl said. “If I’m not mistaken, she gave up her supper to make sure you didn’t go without. Seems to me your sister joined her without a second thought. I figure they’re both pretty hungry right about now because you were too proud to accept your punishment.”

Griffin hung his head and shuffled his toe over the golden pile of aspen leaves again. In a low voice he mumbled, “You can whip me now if you want.”

Karl broke the switch in half and threw it aside. “I have a far worse punishment than that in mind for you.”

Griffin looked up at him, the whites of his eyes visible, his shoulders braced for whatever blow was on the way. “I’m not afraid. Do whatever you want.”

“Fine. Since Grace did your job for you today, you can do her job for the rest of the week.”

It took Griffin a moment to process what he’d said. Then he blurted, “You want me to
wash dishes
? That’s a girl’s job!”

“Bao does it all the time. I intended for Grace to help him, but I think under the circumstances, you should take her place for a week.”

“I hate washing dishes.”

“All the better,” Karl said. “I’ll expect you to fill up that tarp under the wagon with wood this coming week as well.”

“You want me to do my job
and
Grace’s job? That’s not fair!”

“I suspect you’ve already figured out that life’s not fair.” Karl didn’t know what he’d do if Griffin refused to accept his punishment. He didn’t think a beating would do much good, and he was plumb out of other ideas.

Griffin’s lower lip was caught in his teeth. He shot a glance at Grace, who sat on the log he’d vacated, along with Hetty, whose arm was around his sister. At last, his chin came up and he said, “All right. I’ll do your stupid chores. I won’t even eat any supper tonight. But you gotta let Grace eat. She used to go without a lot, and now she kind of panics when there’s nothing for supper.”

Karl’s eyes narrowed, and he glanced toward Hetty. What kind of life had this family been leading? A hard one, for sure. It had never occurred to him that Hetty’s beauty wouldn’t have been a solution to any and all problems. Apparently not.

“Go ahead and eat,” Karl said. “You’ll need your strength to wash all those dishes.” He put out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Griffin spat on his palm, accepted the offered hand, and said, “Deal.”

Karl put a hand on Griffin’s shoulder to head him back toward the fire, but the boy shrugged out from under it and scampered back to join his mother and sister. Hetty bent down to listen as Griffin spoke with Grace.

Karl felt his heart jump when Hetty smiled at him. She spoke to the children, then turned and walked to meet him at the edge of the forest. She reached out both of her hands, which he took in his own.

“You are so wise,” she said in a voice soft enough not to be heard by the children.

“It was all I could think of to do.”

“It’s perfect,” Hetty said. “Griffin will surely think twice before he refuses to do his share in the future.”

Hetty suddenly seemed to realize that her hands had found their way to his chest, with his hands closed around them. She flushed as she pulled free.

Karl opened his hands and let her go. It felt as though he were releasing a wild bird, startled to find itself captive and equally surprised to realize it was free to fly away.

As she turned to leave he blurted, “I want this marriage to work, Hetty.”

She turned back to him, her face filled with concern. “So do I.”

He wished he hadn’t started this conversation, but now that he had, he might as well finish it. “Fidelity is important to me.”

He watched her swallow hard before she replied, “To me, too.”

“You’ll be surrounded by men at the camp,” he continued. “Bao will do most of the cooking, but he’ll need your help serving the men. And, of course, if any of the loggers is injured, you’ll be tending to his wounds.”

“I expected all of that,” Hetty said.

Karl was stuck. Hinting wasn’t going to do the job. He didn’t want to accuse Hetty outright of being promiscuous, even though that was his fear. He needed to make his feelings plain before they arrived in the valley. “I guess what I’m saying is, there will be plenty of temptation to stray.”

The blood left Hetty’s face in such a rush that he thought she might faint.

“I would never…You can’t believe that I…Why would you think…?”

When she finished sputtering, Karl said, “What happened, Hetty? Why did you do it?”

He was asking for an explanation of why she’d gotten pregnant before her marriage to the one husband she’d supposedly had. Or why she’d cheated on him. Or both.

Karl waited for her to speak. And waited. She seemed to be struggling with some terrible inner turmoil.

At last, she looked into his eyes and said, “Haven’t you ever done anything you regretted?”

Karl was silent for a moment, absorbing the remorse on her face. Then he said, “Yes. I have.”

Hetty sighed. “Then you know how futile it can be to wish you’d done things differently. You can’t undo what’s done. You can only move forward and hope to be a better person.”

Karl reached out and caught her hand. She tried to pull free, but he held on and drew her closer. He swallowed over the painful lump in his throat and said, “That’s all I can ask.”

Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her as she said, “I promise I will never give you cause to mistrust me, Karl.”

It was too late for that. He wasn’t absolutely certain he’d heard two honest sentences in a row since he’d met her. But there were other things far more important to him than her past.

Will you ever be glad to be my wife? Will you ever be able to love me?