The McKettrick Legend: Sierra's Homecoming

Liam dashed off to get it.

“I’ll take care of him, Sierra,” Travis told her quietly, when the boy was gone.

“You’d better,” Sierra answered.

1919

Hannah knew by the profound silence, even before she opened her eyes, that it had been snowing all night. Lying alone in the big bed she’d shared with Gabe, she burrowed deeper into the covers and groaned.

She was sore.

She was satisfied.

She was a trollop.

A tramp.

She’d practically thrown herself at Doss the night before. She’d let him do things to her that no one else besides Gabe had ever done.

And now it was morning and she’d come to her senses and she would have to face him.

For all that, she felt strangely light, too.

Almost giddy.

Hannah pulled the covers up over her head and giggled.

Giggled.

She tried to be stern with herself.

This was serious.

Down stairs the stove lids rattled.

Doss was building a fire in the cookstove, the way he did every morning. He would put the coffee on to boil, then go out to the barn to attend to the live stock. When he got back, she’d be making break fast, and they’d talk about how cold it was, and whether he ought to bring in extra wood from the shed, in case there was more snow on the way.

It would be an ordinary ranch morning.

Except that she’d behaved like a tart the night before.

Hannah tossed back the covers and got up. She wasn’t one to avoid facing things, no matter how awkward they were. She and Doss had lost their heads and made love. That was that.

It wouldn’t happen again.

They’d just go on, as if nothing had happened.

The water in the pitcher on the bureau was too cold to wash in.

Hannah decided she would heat some for a bath, after the break fast dishes were done. She’d send Tobias to the study to work at his school lessons, and Doss to the barn.

She dressed hastily, brushed her hair and wound it into the customary chignon at the back of her head. Just before she opened the bedroom door to step out into the new day, the pit of her stomach quivered. She drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders and turned the knob resolutely.

Doss had not left for the barn, as she’d expected. He was still in the kitchen, and when she came down the back stairs and froze on the bottom step, he looked at her, reddened and looked away.

Tobias was by the back door, pulling on his heaviest coat. “Doss and me are fixing to ride down to the bend and look in on the widow Jessup,” he told Hannah matter-of-factly, and he sounded like a grown man, fit to make such decisions on his own. “Could be her pump’s frozen, and we’re not sure she has enough firewood.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Hannah saw Doss watching her.

“Go out and see to the cow,” Doss told Tobias. “Make sure there’s no ice on her trough.”

It was an excuse to speak to her alone, Hannah knew, and she was unnerved. She resisted an urge to touch her hair with both hands or smooth her skirts.

Tobias banged out the back door, whistling.

“He’s not strong enough to ride to the Jessups’ place in this weather,” Hannah said. “It’s four miles if it’s a stone’s throw, and you’ll have to cross the creek.”

“Hannah,” Doss said firmly, grimly. “The boy will be fine.”

She felt her own color rise then, remembering all they’d done together, on the spare room floor, herself and this man. She swallowed and lifted her chin a notch, so he wouldn’t think she was ashamed.

“About last night—” Doss began. He looked distraught.

Hannah waited, blushing furiously now. Wishing the floor would open, so she could fall right through to China and never be seen or heard from again.

Doss shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Hannah hadn’t expected anything except shame, but she was stung by it, just the same. “We’ll just pretend—” She had to stop, clear her throat, blink a couple of times. “We’ll just pretend it didn’t happen.”

His jaw tightened. “Hannah, it did happen, and pretending won’t change that.”

She inter twined her fingers, clasped them so tightly that the knuckles ached. Looked down at the floor. “What else can we do, Doss?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

“Suppose there’s a child?”

Hannah hadn’t once thought of that possibility, though it seemed pain fully obvious in the bright, rational light of day. She drew in a sharp breath and put a hand to her throat.

How would they explain such a thing to Tobias? To the McKettricks and the people of Indian Rock?

“I’d have to go to Montana,” she said, after a long time. “To my folks.”

“Not with my baby growing inside you, you wouldn’t,” Doss replied, so sharply that Hannah’s gaze shot back to his face.

“Doss, the scandal—”

“To hell with the scandal!”

Hannah reached out, pulled back Holt’s chair at the table and sank into it. “Maybe I’m not. Surely just once—”