The Borrowed Bride. Elizabeth Lane

stood watching the dark forms of horse and rider blend into night. Only then did she allow her legs to betray her. Like a wounded animal, she sank to the ground. Her fingers splayed over her face. Her body quivered with unspent sobs.

      This couldn’t be happening. She was still coming to terms with having a baby, still clinging to the hope that Quint would come home and marry her. Judd’s offer had come from nowhere, slamming her with the force of a lightning bolt and leaving her in a state of shock.

      Judd meant well, Hannah reminded herself. His plan was well thought out, covering all possibilities. If Quint came back, she could divorce Judd and marry her true love. If the worst happened, and Quint didn’t return, the child conceived in that impulsive moment would never know the stigma of bastardy. He or she would have the Seavers name, access to a good education and a share of the finest ranch in the county.

      On one hand, how could she even think of saying no?

      On the other hand, how could she find the courage to say yes?

      Judd Seavers was like a black pool with unknown pitfalls lurking beneath its quiet surface. He’d mentioned his personal demons. What did he mean? Could he be an alcoholic, or even an opium addict? Was he capable of harming her or her child? Surely not—but how could she be certain?

      And the women in that big, silent house! Edna Seavers had never shown her anything but contempt. And Hannah had been terrified of Gretel Schmidt since she was five years old. Unless she wanted to spend her time in hiding, she would have to confront both of them. The very thought of it made her knees go watery.

      The front door opened, flooding the yard with lamplight. “Hannah?” Her mother’s questioning voice rose above the drone of frogs and crickets. “Are you all right?”

      “Yes, Mama, I’m fine.” Hannah rose and stepped into the light. “Judd’s gone. He left a few minutes ago.”

      “Well?” Mary Gustavson stood on the porch, one hand holding the lantern, the other fisted on her ample hip. She would know, of course, that Judd had come to propose. The fact that he hadn’t come back inside to speak with Soren didn’t bode for good news.

      “Judd’s coming for my answer tomorrow night. I can’t believe you told him about the baby, Mama—and told his mother! Mrs. Seavers must hate me!”

      “I did what I had to, Hannah. There’s been a wrong done. For the sake of your innocent babe, it’s got to be put right.”

      Hannah sagged against the porch rail, feeling like a child called on the carpet. “I’ve written to Quint,” she protested feebly. “Surely, when he gets word, he’ll come home.”

      Mary sighed wearily. “Unless those letters are opened and read, you might as well be dropping them down a well. Face up to it, girl. You haven’t received so much as a note from the boy. You can’t depend on him to come back and marry you.”

      “But Judd—I barely know him, Mama. And he’s nothing like Quint. I might as well be marrying a stranger.”

      “He’s a Seavers and he’s willing. For now that’s got to be enough. Count your blessings and say yes before he changes his mind. Otherwise there’s no help for you—or for us.”

      Fighting tears, Hannah brushed past her and entered the house. Soren was awake, sitting up in his chair with a worried frown on his face. Annie hovered behind him, wide-eyed and anxious. Hannah’s eyes took in the shabby room, the bare puncheon floor and smoke-blackened rafters, the cracked, mismatched dishes stacked on the rickety counter. She forced herself to see Annie’s threadbare hand-me-down dress and the tired shadows under her father’s eyes. She thought of her younger brothers and sisters asleep upstairs, the younger ones laid like firewood in a single bed, the older ones on the floor.

       Otherwise there’s no help for you—or for us…

      Her mother’s words echoed in Hannah’s mind as she forced herself to face reality. The Gustavsons were dirtpoor. Marriage into the Seavers family would give her the means to better their lot—Judd had implied as much himself. Refusing his offer would be foolish. Worse, it would be selfish.

      Hannah had no desire to become Mrs. Judd Seavers. But her own feelings were of no importance. The chance to give her family and her child a better life outweighed all other considerations.

      She had no choice except to say yes.

      Judd lay awake in the four-poster bed his parents had once shared. The night breeze stirred the gauzy curtains at the tall window. The moon cast a ghostly rectangle of light on the far wall.

      Had he done the right thing, asking Hannah to marry him? Lord, she’d looked so forlorn, so frightened, as if he were some kind of monster. What had he been thinking?

      Punching the flatness from his pillow, he rolled onto his side and stretched his long legs. Maybe he should ride back to the Gustavson house tomorrow morning and tell her he’d changed his mind. That would take the pressure off the poor girl. She could wait for Quint without the awful prospect of marriage to a physically and mentally scarred man looming over her.

      He wouldn’t have to abandon her entirely. He could offer money to help with the child, maybe even hire her father and a couple of the older boys to help out on the ranch. The Gustavsons were honest and hardworking. He could do worse.

      The sight of Hannah’s face, with its deep blue eyes and spun-gold halo of hair, lingered in his memory. How could Quint go gallivanting off to Alaska and leave a girl like that? How could any man be fool enough to leave her?

      Muttering under his breath, he twisted onto his belly and willed himself to sleep. Things would be all right either way, he reminded himself. If Hannah refused him, he could go his way, knowing he’d at least tried to do the right thing. If she accepted—a quiver passed through his body at the thought of it—he would treat her with kindness and respect, keeping a proper distance between them at all times.

      And he would redouble his efforts to find Quint. After hearing the news about their mother’s health, he’d hired a detective agency in Denver to look into Quint’s whereabouts. With Hannah’s pregnancy, the search had become even more urgent. The young fool needed to come home and face up to his responsibilities as a father.

      If he was still alive…

      Judd could feel himself sinking into a dark fog. It swirled around him, pulling him down like quicksand. From out of the murk came the sharp report of rifle fire and the deep-throated boom of exploding mortar shells. He was charging up the muddy hill, boots sliding, lungs bursting as men fell around him—the men he’d trained with, learned to respect, even love. Blood, flesh and brains spattered his face as the young lieutenant ahead of him disintegrated in a blast of gunfire. With no time to wipe himself clean, Judd clenched his teeth and kept moving forward. When he could see a target he fired. When he ran out of bullets he hacked a path with his bayonet.

      On his right was his boyhood friend, Daniel Sims. They’d signed up together and gone through training side by side. Judd was struggling to stay on his feet when he saw Daniel go down, clutching his body at the waist. Blood poured between his fingers. He was gut shot, a guarantee of a slow and miserable death.

      “Kill me, Judd…” Daniel’s boyish features twisted in agony. “I’m done for. Get it over with, for the love of God…”

      Judd’s service revolver was still in its holster. Judd drew the gun.

      “Do it, friend.” Daniel’s face was a mask of agony. Blood trickled from one corner of his mouth. “I’ll bless you with my dying breath…”

      Judd thumbed back the hammer. His blood-slicked finger tightened on the trigger. He gazed down into his friend’s face through a haze of smoke. But now it wasn’t Daniel he saw. It was…Quint.

       No!

      Judd awoke with a scream of anguish. The sheets had tangled around his jerking body. They were drenched in cold sweat.

      Hannah spent