Montana Bride (26 page)

Hetty was folding clean clothes in her bedroom when Karl appeared at the door and said, “I brought home an alpine fir to decorate for Christmas. I set it up next to the fireplace.”

Hetty had desperately wanted a Christmas tree. But Karl had looked so forbidding over the past week since he’d discovered her deception, that she hadn’t dared to ask him for anything. She felt a rush of pleasure that he’d thought of bringing home a tree without being asked.

“Thank you, Karl.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for the kids. I have work to do in the barn. I won’t be back till late.”

“What about supper?”

“I’m not hungry.” He turned and headed back out the door, leaving her alone.

Despite his threats to make use of the wife he’d paid to bring to Montana, Karl hadn’t come near her in bed for the past week. He retired after she was asleep and rose before she was awake and headed up onto the mountain to spend his days cutting wood. He ate his meals with the loggers.

Of all the disasters Hetty had caused over the past year, and there had been many, hurting Karl was the worst. She’d felt so sad since their confrontation that it was hard to get out of bed in the morning. But she’d had no choice. She’d needed to be strong for the children, who were frightened by Karl’s brooding silence. They still weren’t sure he wasn’t going to change his mind and throw them all out in the snow.

Hetty dropped the long john shirt she was folding and hurried into the next room to see the tree Karl had brought.

She found Grace and Griffin there before her, staring at the perfectly shaped fir in the parlor with wondering eyes.

Hetty breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the ever- green’s pungent fragrance. The smell brought back memories of wonderful Christmases with her family as a child, when she’d been blissfully happy, unaware of all the tragedy to follow.

“You were right,” Grace said, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “He brought us a tree.”

“I didn’t think he would,” Griffin said. “I mean, not without me there to remind him.”

Griffin had been ready to go back to work the next day after he’d gotten the knot on his head, but Karl had insisted the boy stay at the house until the swelling was completely gone. The bump was long gone, but Karl still hadn’t okayed Griffin’s return to the mountain.

“Just in time for Christmas tomorrow,” Grace said. “It’s a good thing we went ahead and made all those decorations, or we wouldn’t have anything to put on it.”

During the long days over the past week when both children had been stuck in the house with her, Hetty had kept them busy making the sorts of decorations they’d had on the Christmas tree at the orphanage.

She’d shown the kids how to use tin snips to cut tin can lids into flower petals, lifting one petal up and pushing one petal down to give it shape. Then they’d mounted small candles on the center of the lids with wax. Once the lids were attached with wire to the tree, they would reflect the candlelight, making it brighter.

They’d used brown paper and flour paste to make paper rings, attaching one ring to another to make an impossibly long garland to go around the tree. They’d attached red and green thread to different-sized pinecones, so they could be hung from the branches. They’d spent an entire evening stringing red chokeberries, so they could be draped around the limbs.

Hetty had insisted that the children each give up a stocking, which she’d hung by a nail to the mantel above the fireplace.

“What’s that for?” Griffin demanded.

“Saint Nicholas needs somewhere to leave the gifts he brings for good little boys and girls when he visits on Christmas Eve,” Hetty replied.

“Someone’s coming to visit?” Griffin asked.

“Just wait. You’ll see,” Hetty promised. “When you wake up on Christmas morning, those stockings will be full of marvelous surprises.”

“I’ve heard those stupid tales,” Grace said, sounding far too jaded for her age. “Bad little boys and girls get sticks and stones and lumps of coal. Likely that’s what’ll you’ll find in your stocking, Griffin.”

“Sticks and coal will suit me fine,” Griffin said with a smirk. “I can burn them in the fireplace to stay warm.”

Hetty had been working furiously to make Christmas gifts for the children. She’d also been working on something to give Karl. She knew what he wanted most: a loving wife. She wasn’t sure she could ever become the wife he wanted. And she had no idea where to start. She had no idea how to please Karl in bed, and she certainly hadn’t been able to please him lately out of bed.

She hoped he would like the present she’d made for him. It had been started during the weeks when they’d spent their evenings together talking and their nights wrapped in each other’s arms. And finished during this week of bitter silence.

She saw the children whispering together and said, “What mischief are you plotting now?”

“Nothing,” Grace said quickly. “We need to talk to Karl. Will he be here for supper?”

“No. He’s working in the barn tonight.”

“We need to talk to him,” Griffin said.

“You’ll have to catch him tomorrow morning,” Hetty said.

“Tomorrow’s too late,” Grace said.

Hetty chewed on her lower lip. Did she dare send the children out to the barn to speak with Karl? Was he likely to yell at them for disturbing him? Hetty realized she couldn’t send them out there by themselves. She had to be there to intercede if Karl got upset with the children for showing up unannounced.

“We’ll all go,” she said.

“We need to talk to Karl
alone,
” Grace protested.

“Either I go with you or you don’t go,” Hetty said. “I’m sure you can find someplace private in the barn to speak with Karl.”

Grace exchanged a look with Griffin, who nodded. “All right. Let’s go.”

The weather was cold but clear, and for once the wind wasn’t blowing. Hetty made each of the children bring a lantern, and she carried one herself. She wanted the extra light to warn off any vicious predators that might be lurking in the darkness as she and the children crossed the meadow to the barn.

Not that Hetty had seen any vicious predators since they’d arrived in the Territory, but she’d heard enough stories about wolves and mountain lions to leave her with a terror of getting caught out in the dark alone.

Hetty heaved an almost audible sigh of relief when they reached the barn. She could hear hammering inside and wondered what was going on. It suddenly dawned on her that Karl might be making gifts for the children. Gifts that he didn’t want them to see before Christmas morning.

“Griffin! Grace!” Hetty’s call came too late. Griffin had already opened the barn door and slipped inside with Grace. She hurriedly followed them. The barn was warm from the body heat of the animals inside. She was struck by the acrid smell of ammonia, overlaid by the sweeter smell of hay.

The children headed straight for the light at the far end of the two rows of stalls on either side of the barn. Hetty could see Karl standing at a worktable. He’d turned at the sound of the barn door opening, and quickly covered whatever he was working on with a tarp.

“What are you guys doing out here?” he said, looking from the children to Hetty.

“We have to talk to you,” Grace said.

“Alone,” Griffin said, glancing over his shoulder at Hetty.

“Couldn’t this wait?” Karl asked.

“No, it can’t,” Grace said.

Karl set down a hammer that he’d apparently forgotten he was holding, leaned back against the bench, and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I’m listening.”

Grace turned back to Hetty and said pointedly, “We need some privacy.”

Hetty backed up and then turned and walked to the other end of the barn to pet the horses, who’d poked their heads out over the stall doors. She’d often snuck out to the barn to feed them bits of carrot or dried apple, and as she passed, they stuck their velvet noses into her hand, looking for the promised treat.

“I didn’t bring anything with me tonight,” she said as she patted strong necks and rubbed soft ears.

She heard whispers from the threesome at the end of the barn, but no distinct words. A few moments later, Karl approached her with the kids trailing him on either side.

“Everything settled?” she said.

“We have a few things to do here,” he said. “I’ll bring the kids back when I come. You can go on back to the house.”

“Oh.” Hetty would have felt silly telling Karl she was afraid to walk back in the dark by herself. It wasn’t far from the barn to the house. She had a lantern to show the way, and she could always run if something started chasing her.

“Is there some problem?” Karl asked.

“No. I’m fine. Don’t keep the kids out too late. They’ll want to be up early in the morning.”

“I figured that,” Karl said. “It being Christmas morning and all.”

Hetty thought she saw a smile hovering on his lips, but it never settled there. She resisted the urge to confess her fear of being alone in the dark and left the barn, holding her lantern high.

She hadn’t always been afraid of the dark. In fact, she’d never been afraid of the dark, until she’d been forced to spend two nights alone on the prairie in a Conestoga wagon. She’d lain there in the dark the second night, wondering if she was going to die all alone, and heard snuffling coyotes, or maybe wolves, prowling the edges of the wagon. She’d wanted to yell at them to go away, but her throat was too raw to speak. She lay there wondering if they’d figure out a way to get inside and eat her alive.

It had been a very long night.

Hetty heard snow crunch behind her and started running. She hadn’t taken two steps when something grabbed her. She felt her wool shawl come off her head as she tore herself free. Then she was caught again. She dropped the lantern to claw at the hand grasping her breast through her coat. And the light went out.

She was alone with the most dangerous predator of all. A two-legged one.

Hetty opened her mouth to scream, but before she could, a powerful hand covered her mouth and nose, stifling the sound and suffocating her.

Hetty scratched and clawed for her life. She managed to free her nose, but her captor kept a firm grip over her mouth, preventing her from screaming for help.

“Cut it out! It’s just me. Don’t scream. I’m going to let you go.”

Hetty stopped struggling and stood within the prison of Dennis Campbell’s arms, panting like a fox run to ground by ravenous dogs. She waited until she felt his hands release her and whirled to confront him. “What do you mean by grabbing me like that? You scared me half to death!”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you. I wanted to talk.”

“In the dark?” she ranted. “How did you even know I was here?”

“I saw you and the kids traipsing out to the barn. I meant to catch up to you there, but I saw you leave, so I followed you.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“I have a Christmas present for you and Karl. I wanted to ask if you’d put it under the tree.”

Hetty had been expecting something much more sinister, especially the way Dennis had mauled her. Apparently he hadn’t intended to assault her.

She felt like a balloon that someone had pricked, as all the air she’d gathered to fight with slowly seeped out of her. Her knees were threatening to collapse. “For heaven’s sake! You could have stopped by in the morning and dropped it off.”

“I wanted it to be under the tree when you wake up tomorrow morning.”

Everything he said was perfectly plausible. It didn’t explain why he hadn’t called out to her, instead of sneaking up like that. It didn’t explain why he’d manhandled her, groping her breasts and grazing her belly, while he kept her mouth covered to prevent her from crying out for succor.

She held out her hand. “Give it to me.” She half expected him not to have a present with him, to have been making up a story for why he’d followed her.

But he reached into his coat and came out with a small package. “Here it is.”

Hetty didn’t want the present. Didn’t want anything to do with Dennis Campbell. But she made herself take it. The package was small and light, wrapped in brown paper with a bow of brown string.

Dennis covered the hand in which she held the present with both of his hands, top and bottom. “I hope you’ll like it. I thought of you when I bought it in Butte.”