Wyoming Bride (29 page)

Emaline shuddered. “I hope I never have to do it again.” She swiped once more at her chest, then threw the washcloth into the bowl next to the pitcher and began dressing herself.

“Wait,” Hannah said. “You must be tired. Did you sleep at all last night?”

Emaline shook her head.

“Why don’t you lie down in my bed for a while and rest? Flint and I will watch over Ransom. I promise to come get you if anything changes.”

“I want to be with him,” Emaline said, continuing to dress. “I need to be with him.”

Hannah didn’t want to like Emaline. She certainly didn’t want to admire her. But she wondered if she would have done so well if she’d found herself in the same situation. Clearly, Emaline needed rest. She crossed to the other woman and caught her hands, stopping her from buttoning the blouse she’d put on. Hannah slid it back off Emaline’s shoulders, leaving her in her chemise and underdrawers.

“Lie down, Emaline. If you’re still awake at the end of five minutes, I promise I’ll let you go to Ransom. Otherwise, I’ll call you if there’s any change in his condition.”

Emaline was clearly torn. And clearly exhausted. She glanced at the bed, then toward the door. “You promise you’ll come get me?”

Hannah crossed her heart with a finger. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

Emaline smiled. Her eyes were watery with tears. “Thank you, Hannah.”

Hannah quickly pulled down the covers so Emaline could crawl under them. She covered her up and said, “Rest. Try not to worry. I’ll be back in five minutes to check on you.”

Emaline closed her eyes and sighed as her body sank into the mattress. “Oh, I almost forgot. Best wishes on your marriage, Hannah. Flint told me the two of you tied the knot.”

Emaline’s eyes remained closed. Obviously, she didn’t expect a response. Hannah was glad, because she wasn’t sure what to say. She wondered what else Flint had discussed with Emaline on that long drive back from the roundup camp. She waited to see how restless Emaline would be, but within two minutes, the other woman was lightly snoring.

Hannah turned and left the room. She had a vested interest in making sure that Ransom Creed survived. She wanted Emaline married to Flint’s brother. Then maybe Flint could stop pining for his brother’s woman.

Over the next three days, Hannah, Flint, and Emaline took turns nursing Ransom, whose fever raged. Hannah shared Flint’s bed with Emaline, while he stayed in the room with his brother. On the third night, it was touch and go, and Hannah thought for sure Ransom would die. She tried to offer Flint comfort, but he kept his distance. He looked grim and said nothing.

On the fourth morning, the fever broke, and Ransom woke up long enough to speak to Emaline, who collapsed in tears. Hannah had to take her out of the room while Flint reassured his anxious brother that Emaline was only tired.

Hannah ushered Emaline downstairs to the kitchen and poured her a cup of coffee, patting her shoulder and agreeing with her that it had been a long four days and surely now that the fever had broken Ransom would recover.

She was pouring herself a cup of coffee when someone began pounding on the back door. Hannah shared a worried look with Emaline before she crossed to the door and cautiously opened it.

Emaline’s father stood there in an impressive blue military uniform with a lot of gold buttons across his chest. A man with a clerical collar, the same preacher who’d married Hannah and Flint, stood beside him.

“Let me in,” the colonel said.

Hannah stood back, responding automatically to the authority in the colonel’s voice, and the colonel and the cleric stepped into the kitchen.

When Emaline saw her father, she jumped up and threw herself into his open arms, sobbing and speaking incoherently. He patted her shoulder awkwardly and spoke softly to her, but Hannah could see his eyes blazed with anger and his mouth flattened to a thin, uncompromising line.

“Where’s Ransom?” the colonel asked his daughter.

“In bed. He was shot, Father. His fever broke this morning, and he’s finally conscious.”

“Good,” the colonel said. “Take me to him.” He put an arm around Emaline’s shoulder, urging her toward the hallway, and gestured for Hannah to precede them. He turned to the preacher and said, “Come along, Reverend Scofield.”

Hannah led the way up the stairs and then down the hall to Ransom’s room. The bedroom door was open, and Flint sat on his brother’s bed talking quietly with him. “Flint, we have company,” she said to give him some warning.

Flint rose abruptly and turned, hands fisted, ready to fight. He stiffened when he saw the colonel. Hannah watched him grit his teeth when he caught sight of the preacher standing behind him in the doorway.

“Hello, Colonel,” Flint said.

Hannah noticed the colonel didn’t offer his hand. Instead he said, “I understand from Mr. Patton that my daughter and your brother spent the night together. If I had my way, I’d finish the job those renegade Indians started, but my late wife’s sister, whom I located in Denver, tells me my daughter loves that scoundrel.”

“I do love him, Father!” Emaline cried.

“Don’t interrupt me, Emaline,” the colonel said doggedly. “Under the circumstances, I see no reason to delay their wedding three more weeks.”

“I presume Mr. Patton also told you that my brother was shot and near death when he and Emaline spent the night together,” Flint said through tight jaws.

“That’s beside the point,” the colonel said.

“Ransom’s too sick to go through any kind of ceremony,” Flint objected. “Especially a shotgun wedding.”

“I’m fine,” a hoarse voice interjected. “I’ll be happy to marry Emaline right now, Colonel.”

“I see you’re still kicking,” the colonel said, eyeing Ransom dubiously. “Mr. Patton seemed to think the issue was in doubt. I brought along Reverend Scofield, just in case. It seems he’ll be of some use after all.”

“You don’t have to do this, Ransom,” Flint said.

Ransom reached a feeble hand toward Emaline, and she hurried to his side and grasped it. “I want to marry Emaline,” Ransom said. “The sooner the better.”

Hannah felt guilty because she was glad the colonel had shown up. Glad that he was insisting Emaline and Ransom marry. The sooner they were wed, the sooner Flint would have to let go of his dream of a life with the other woman.

Guilt that she was feeling so glad, when Emaline would be robbed of her lovely wedding, prompted her to ask, “Emaline, do you want to change into something prettier?”

Emaline shook her head. “I’d be happy to marry Ransom barefoot and wearing a shift.”

The colonel harrumphed. “That won’t be necessary, my dear. Well, Reverend Scofield. Get to it.”

The preacher was carrying a prayer book, which he opened, and Hannah listened to him speak the words she’d heard so recently herself.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here …”

Hannah glanced at Flint and saw his eyes were riveted on Emaline. A muscle worked in his jaw, and his mouth became a thin line. His gaze skipped to his brother as Ransom spoke the words that would bind him to Emaline forever.

Hannah felt her heart squeeze. Why did she care so much what Flint felt for Emaline? Theirs was merely a marriage of convenience. Flint needed a wife. She needed a father for her child. When had her feelings gotten engaged? When had she started wanting him to desire her and her alone?

Maybe she was simply being a dog in the manger. She hadn’t insisted that Flint love her, but she didn’t want him loving Emaline, either.

Their wedding should have been sufficient to take Emaline out of the picture. But she had caught that yearning look on Flint’s face once too often. Perhaps this ceremony would kill his feelings for Emaline Simmons, soon to be Emaline Creed, once and for all.

Or maybe not.

Hannah felt sick to her stomach. Maybe it was the sausage she’d eaten for breakfast. Maybe it was morning sickness. All she knew was that if she didn’t get out of this room right now, she was going to embarrass herself.

She bolted for her bedroom, yanked the chamber pot out from under the bed, dropped to her knees, and promptly lost the contents of her stomach in the porcelain bowl.

She felt her hair being pulled back from her face as she vomited. When she was done, someone handed her a wet cloth, which she used to wipe her mouth. That same hand pushed the chamber pot back under the bed.

A moment later she was being lifted into Flint’s lap as he sat down on the bed. She leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes as she fought against further nausea and tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You should have told me you were sick.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Then what the hell was that?” he demanded.

“I’m pregnant.”

Hannah knew she’d made a mistake the instant the words were out of her mouth. Every muscle in Flint’s body tensed. They hadn’t been married long enough for her to know for certain she was pregnant if Flint was the father. Certainly not long enough for her to have morning sickness.

It didn’t taken long for Flint to figure out that he wasn’t the proud papa of her child. “I see,” he said. He sounded upset.

She was glad! Glad he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of being the one to impregnate her. Glad, glad, glad she was going to bear another man’s child! It was only fair, since he seemed so determined to love another woman.

Tit for tat. Pain for pain. Hurt for hurt.

“I asked you if you were pregnant,” he said. “You told me you weren’t.”

“I …” Hannah almost said she hadn’t known. But the time for lying was over. His arms had dropped from around her waist, so she slid off his lap onto the bed, then looked him in the eye as she admitted, “I lied.”

“Why?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t marry me.”

He gritted his teeth. But said nothing.

Which suggested she’d been right on the mark. She felt sick at heart and so angry she could spit. So she told him, “The baby is due the middle of January.”

He did the math and said, “You were three-and-a-half months along, and you didn’t think to mention it to me?”

“It was none of your business.”

“None of my business? I’m going to be the father of McMurtry’s kid, and it’s none of my business?”

Hannah raised a brow in surprise. So he was still willing to be the child’s father? Even though he wasn’t the one who’d set the seed? Then she replayed what he’d said.

Flint had called the child “McMurtry’s kid.” Not his. Not hers. Not theirs.
McMurtry’s
. Hannah felt sick to her stomach again. And sick at heart.

Then he said, “That explains why you’ve been so tired.”

She nodded. “It’s not as bad now as it was a month ago.”

“You should have told me.”

“Why? What would you have done differently?”

“I would have taken better care of you,” he said. “I wouldn’t have let you go riding all over the countryside on a wild-goose chase.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me,” Hannah said.

“I could. And I will. From now on, you’ll take better care of yourself.”

“I’m not one of your cowhands that you can order around,” she retorted. “And I can take care of myself.”

“Which is why you were puking your guts up a minute ago,” he snapped back.

“I can’t help getting morning sickness.”

“You can stay in bed until you’re sure you’re not going to be sick. If I’m not mistaken, you were up today at the crack of dawn taking care of Ransom.”

“Emaline was exhausted, and you were dead to the world. He wanted water.”

His lips twisted and he said, “From now on, you think of yourself first. I don’t want this pregnancy killing you.”

Of course not
, Hannah thought bitterly.
Then you’d be put to the trouble of raising “McMurtry’s kid” on your own
.

“Emaline and I will take care of Ransom,” he continued.

Hannah seethed. So, while she was cooking and cleaning, Flint was going to be spending his time with Emaline. She felt helpless and hopeless.

“We should get back,” she said curtly. “You’ll want to congratulate your brother on his wedding.”

Flint helped her to her feet and said, “We’ll go together. We can share our happy news with them.”

Hannah stopped. “I think we should keep this to ourselves.”

Flint snorted. “You’re not going to be able to keep it a secret much longer, Hannah. Might as well get it over with.”

Hannah realized he was right. “All right. Fine.”

“Maybe seeing you get through your pregnancy and deliver a healthy child will give Emaline the courage to do the same.”

Hannah bit her cheek, which was already feeling sore, to keep from screaming. It seemed every syllable out of Flint’s mouth had something to do with Emaline.

“I give up,” she muttered.

“What’s that?” Flint asked.

“Nothing,” Hannah said. “Let’s go wish the newlyweds well.”

She left the room without looking at Flint again. She would be far better off if she stopped feeling anything for him. Otherwise she was going to be in for a lot of heartbreak. It appeared his gaze was going to remain firmly fixed on his lodestar, even after she was a married woman.