22

The world spun, and Hannah thought she might be sick.

“Hannah, ye all right? Yer white as a ghost.”

Fighting nausea, she tried to focus on Quincy. “We’ve got to find John! They’re going to kill him! They might . . .” She pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh Lord, they might have done something already.” Saying it out loud made the reality all the more horrifying. What if John was already dead? Stop thinking like that! He’s fine. He’s fine.

“John left a couple of hours ago. Said he had errands in Parramatta and then he’d be heading for Sydney Town. Yer saying Margaret and this Mr. Douglas want to kill him? Why?”

“They want his money.”

“What? He’s got little of that.”

“No. That’s not true. John’s wealthy. And he doesn’t even know it yet. That’s what I was saying about the documents. I found them in Margaret’s room. It’s a will from his uncle who died. He gave John everything. From what I can see of the property listed, he was an extremely wealthy man.”

“Why would Margaret want to kill him? She’s his wife. She’ll share in the prosperity.”

“Yes, but she’s in love with Weston Douglas, or it seems she is. They want the money for themselves.”

Understanding dawned in Quincy’s eyes. “Lord, no. Yer sure?”

“I am.” Hannah pushed to her feet. The world tipped, and she pressed a hand against the tree. “Did he say why he was seeing Mr. Douglas?”

“No, just something about legal papers—for Margaret, something to do with her family inheritance. I think he was going to sign some documents.”

“They’re going to kill him. I know it.” Hannah’s head throbbed. She couldn’t think clearly. She moved toward Claire. “We’ve got to go. We’ve got to tell him. Before he . . .” Hannah swallowed, unable to say more. Lord, save him. Please save him.

“Calm down, Hannah. I’m sure John’s fine.” Concern furrowed his brow. “I’ll go after him. And see that he’s all right. We’ll sort this out.”

Hannah nodded, but her heart still battered beneath her ribs.

“I might be able to catch him on the road—depends on how long he was in Parramatta. He wanted to make it into Sydney Town before the sun set, so I figure he’s got a good head start.”

“I’m going with you.” Hannah grabbed hold of the saddle horn, shoved her foot into the stirrup, and pushed herself up and into the saddle. “We can’t wait a moment longer. He could be heading straight into trouble.”

“I’ll go. You stay with Lydia. I can ride faster alone.”

“I can keep up, don’t you worry about that.” Tears burned. “And I have to go. John will need me. When he hears . . .” She blinked back the tears. “How will he abide more treachery?”

“Figure if what ye say is true, he’ll be glad to be rid of her.” “Maybe so.” Hannah felt a spark of hope. Perhaps John would see it as a reprieve rather than betrayal.

“I left the Athertons’ buggy behind the barn at the house. Margaret will see it when she returns. She’s probably there already. She’ll know that we know.”

“We’ll think of something.” Quincy climbed into the saddle and turned his horse toward the house. He glanced at Hannah. “We’ll say ye came for the mare. Margaret won’t take that news well.” He grinned.

“Does she ride?”

“Almost never. But I figure knowing that ye’ve got something she sees as hers will get under her skin. I’ll be glad to see that.”

“Will she believe you?”

“Don’t see why not. And what does it matter? Even if she suspects something, she’s got no place to go. She’s not going to set off for Sydney Town on her own. And where can she go that the law can’t find her?” He picked up his pace. “Right now, all we need think ’bout is finding John before he meets up with Douglas. And I’ll be happy to deal with that man.”

Urgency pushed Hannah. All thoughts of the heat forgotten, she leaned forward and gave Claire her head. Help us find him, Lord. Give us wings like eagles that we might run and not grow weary.

When they approached the house, Hannah saw that Margaret had returned. She’d left her buggy next to the house at the front steps, allowing the horses to bake in the sun. She has no consideration for anyone or anything. Her stomach tightened. She hated the woman. I’ll not be able to hide it from her. She’ll see. “So, we’ll tell her I came for the mare and that I wanted to speak to John about it?”

“Right. But let me talk to her,” said Quincy. “It could be fun.” He grinned, a gleam in his eye.

“Gladly,” Hannah said. “I’m too angry. And I’m sure I’ll say something to give us away.” She took a deep breath and tried to relax tight muscles, but she felt as tense as a drawn bow. “She deserves what she gets.”

“That she does. But for now, we’ll have to hold our tongues, eh?”

As they approached, Margaret stepped onto the porch. Arms folded over her chest, she waited, unable to disguise her rancor. Coolly she assessed them. Gone was her friendly smile.

Her eyes settled on Hannah. “I’ve been wondering just where you’d gone to. I saw the buggy. When I looked about, you were nowhere to be found.” She looked at the mare. “And I see you’re riding Claire. What was so urgent you couldn’t wait for me or John?” Margaret’s nostrils flared slightly.

“She didn’t mean to worry ye,” Quincy said. “She’s been longing for her mare and came to see if she might take her back to the Athertons’ with her. When she found no one home, she figured a ride would do her and the mare good, and then it was just natural to look for John. After all, she’d have to ask him if she could take the animal.”

“The horse doesn’t belong to her. It’s mine. She has no right to it.”

“Well now, I’m not sure that’s quite right.” Quincy nudged his hat up slightly. “John gave the horse to Hannah. I figure Claire belongs to her.”

Margaret clenched her jaw. “Well, we’ll have to ask John about that . . . when he returns.”

There was something in her eyes that alarmed Hannah. Margaret didn’t expect John to return. When Margaret looked at her, Hannah met the brazen gaze with one of her own, unable to keep her anger completely in check.

“Hannah wants to take the horse to the Athertons’ and I think she should.”

“No. Not until she speaks to John.”

Quincy pushed up in the stirrups. “She has a right to her. And I know John would agree.”

Margaret’s lips became a tight line. “That animal belongs to this farm. And I shan’t have someone . . .” Momentarily she seemed lost for words. “I shan’t have someone coming up here and taking whatever they wish.”

Margaret eyed Hannah, her look suspicious. “Strange you’d come today and then go looking for John in this heat.”

Fury boiled inside Hannah so intensely she feared she’d erupt. “I had the day off,” she said tersely.

“Well, look at the poor animal. You’ve nearly run her to death. Why are you in such a hurry anyway?”

Quincy quickly replied, “The horses wanted to run, so we gave them their head. I expect poor Claire’s tired of being locked in the barn.”

“She’s not much of a horse anyway. You can have her.” Margaret waved them off. “I have a headache. I’m going to lie down.”

She’s certainly dropped her sweet act. Claire blew a blast of air from her nostrils and stomped her foot. Hannah patted her neck. “She’s a fine horse. I’ll be glad to have her back.” She met Margaret’s dark eyes. “I’ll ask John, though, the next time I see him. And if he doesn’t feel right about it, I’ll return her.”

Margaret lifted her chin a bit and looked down at Hannah. “Fine. You ask him, then.”

“Good. It’s all settled.” Quincy’s tone was friendly and relaxed. “In the meanwhile, I’ll see that Hannah gets home safely.”

Margaret turned, then looked at Hannah, her gaze probing. “I’m sorry you missed John. He’s not due home until tomorrow. He has business in Sydney Town.”

“Yes. I heard,” Hannah said, surprised to hear her voice sound untroubled.

“Oh, Quincy, before you go, could you put the buggy and horses away? I hate to leave them out here in the sun. It’s terribly hot.”

“No trouble at all,” he said. “I’ll take care of it straightaway.”

Inwardly, Hannah groaned. They needed to leave. Each minute that passed put John in more danger.

“Good day, then.” Margaret walked inside the house.

Quincy dismounted, handing the reins to Hannah. “Take the horses to the barn, give them a good drink, then tie them to the back of the buggy.” He glanced at the house and lowered his voice. “We’ll leave the buggy in Parramatta.”

“All right. But we’ve got to hurry.”

“I know. I’ll put these animals away, and then we’ll be off.” He climbed into the buggy and drove it to the barn.

Hannah trotted alongside, leading his gelding and all the time wishing she could set out for Sydney Town immediately. Her heart thrummed and her mind was awhirl with all that might happen. What if John were facing some terrible danger right now?

After the horses each had a drink from the trough, she tied Claire and Quincy’s gelding to the back of the buggy. When she finished, she watched Quincy stride toward his cottage, disappear inside, then return with a bag in hand. Determination lined his face.

When he approached, he said quietly, “Makes no sense, yer going. I can find him faster on me own.”

Keeping her voice hushed, Hannah said, “I don’t agree. I’m a good horsewoman. I’ll not slow you down.” Even as Hannah said it, she knew it wasn’t true. Quincy could get to John more quickly without her.

He studied her, his eyes challenging the statement.

“You’re right,” Hannah conceded. “You can travel faster on your own. But I don’t know how I’ll bear the waiting, not knowing if something terrible has happened.”

“Ye can do what ye have to.”

Grudgingly, she said, “I’ll stay at Lydia’s.” Hannah placed a hand on his arm. “Please tell me as soon as you know. Come straight to Lydia’s as soon as you can.”

“I will. I promise.” Quincy helped Hannah into the buggy, and then they set off, careful not to look like they were in a hurry.

The moment they were out of view of the house, Hannah took the documents out of the saddlebag and handed them to him. “You’ll need these. John will want proof. He’s been betrayed by Margaret once before, I don’t want him anguishing about whether this scheme is true or not.”

Quincy stuffed the papers into his pack. “He’ll believe ye, but I’ll take them all the same.” He pulled the horses to a stop, handed Hannah the reins, and climbed down. “I’m off, then. I’ll stop at the Gelsons’ when I get back to Parramatta.” He pushed into the saddle and then added, “I’ll bring him back. Ye can count on it.”

“Thank you.” Hannah stared after him as he galloped down the road. Lord, be with him. And keep John safe. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to him.

A late afternoon breeze stirred heated air, carrying a damp, musky odor from the slow-moving Parramatta River. The wind brought some relief from the oppressive heat and cooled John’s damp skin. He stopped and drank from his water flask. Replacing the lid, he draped it over the saddle horn and glanced at the sky. The sun was still high. He should easily make it to Sydney Town before nightfall.

He’d hoped to get into town early enough to meet with Weston Douglas. He’d rather get that piece of business out of the way so tomorrow he’d be free to have a look at some cattle. Perhaps Margaret’s right and I ought to think about expanding. If he could get a good price, he’d purchase a few head and start for home. It would be an easier trip back, though, if Quincy had come along. I need another hand to help out ’round the place.

As usual, Margaret hadn’t joined him. She had no interest in anything that was the least bit unpleasant, not even if it meant they could spend time together.

She’s nothing like Hannah. Hannah would gladly have ridden with me.

That kind of thinking served no purpose, so John turned his mind to the business at hand. Before having a look at the cattle, he had stops to make at a couple of businesses in town. His last visit to the port city, he’d had several inquiries about tools. He could do with a bit of extra cash, so he hoped to make some deals before returning home.

This close to the ocean, the river widened into several tributaries, wandering and making it less defined. His mind wandered as well, to Thomas and the quiet afternoons they’d spent fishing. He hadn’t seen him as often as he’d like, not since Hannah had moved to the Athertons’. He missed the lad and often wished he still lived at the farm.

He couldn’t bring himself to take Thomas from Hannah. She had so little. And Thomas loved living at the Athertons’. He and Perry had become good friends, and Thomas was proud of his toolmaking skills. Jealousy jabbed at John. It was foolishness, he knew, but emotions were sometimes hard to manage.

When John approached Sydney Town, he urged his horse to a faster pace. He didn’t want to miss his meeting with Weston Douglas. If he didn’t hurry, the man would have gone home for the evening and John would miss him. He kicked his mount in the sides and settled into a relaxed gallop.

His eyes moved to the hill above the port and stopped at the prison. His stomach tightened. He remembered it all—the food deprivation, illness, brutality, and the fear that he’d never share his life with Hannah. And now, even with all of God’s blessings, his greatest fear had come to pass. He’d lost her.

Heavy of heart, he turned his eyes to the port. Two ships lay at anchor, and for a moment, he wished he were setting sail, going anywhere except here, someplace where he didn’t have to think about Hannah and didn’t have to try to love Margaret. Like a dark mist, sorrow settled about him. There was no place he could go that his love for Hannah wouldn’t go with him.

He turned his focus to the road leading into town. It was lined with simple homes, some of them barely more than hovels. He slowed to a walk. A little girl worked beside her mother in a garden patch. Dirt smudged her face and her hair was a tangle, but her blue eyes were vivid and they widened innocently as she watched him pass. John smiled and tipped his hat. She hurried to hide behind her mother’s skirts. Gazing out at him from safety, she smiled and her blue eyes danced with delight.

Perhaps I’ll have a daughter one day. The idea pleased him. With Margaret it would be possible. He envisioned what his daughter might look like, then realized the picture in his mind was one of a tiny Hannah. Misery tightened like a band about his chest. He and Hannah would never have a child.

“John! John!” a voice called from behind him.

He turned to see someone coming toward him, riding hard. As he drew closer, he realized it was Quincy—his horse was in a lather, and its sides heaved as it sucked in oxygen. He’d never run a horse so hard without just cause.

Quincy pulled up alongside John. “I’d started to think I’d never catch ye. Ye’ve come a good long way since I saw ye this morning.”

“What’s wrong? Has something happened at the farm?”

“No.” Quincy was breathing hard as well. “Not easy to catch up to ye.” He lifted his hat and wiped his face with his shirt sleeve. “Thank God I found ye and yer all right.” He resettled the hat.

“What do you mean? Thank God I’m all right?”

“Hannah came to the farm today . . . looking for ye. Said that Douglas is planning to kill ye.”

“What? Why would he kill me? I don’t even know the man.”

Quincy reached into his pack and took out the documents Hannah had given him. “Hannah found these. Ye best read them.” He handed them to him.

John opened the envelope and scanned the contents while Quincy gulped water from his flask. Screwing the cap back on, he said, “Seems yer wealthy, but what good is money if yer dead, eh?”

John’s heart quickened. He glanced at Quincy, not yet ready to discuss theories. His uncle had died. He’d not seen him since he was a boy. A flash of memory brought back an afternoon picnic and a new fishing pole he’d been allowed to use. At the end of the day, his uncle had given him the pole.

John looked at Quincy. “I haven’t seen my uncle since he moved to France. I was just a lad.” He felt a pang of loss. “He was a good man.”

He looked at the documents. “Where did Hannah get these?” “They were in Margaret’s room.”

John considered that, then asked, “How did Hannah get them?”

“It seems she and Lydia had some misgivings about Margaret and Mr. Douglas, so they did some checking and found out that . . . well, that yer wife and him are . . . very well acquainted.”

John knew the implication and could feel the familiar heat of betrayal. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve been seeing each other in a familiar way.”

“You know this for a fact?”

“I do. I trust Hannah. And she said that she, Lydia, and Dalton went to Sydney Town and found letters written between the two. And it was clear they were up to more than just business. It also seems they figured on coming into a good deal of money . . . just as soon as Margaret’s husband died.”

The words didn’t penetrate at first, but when they did, John felt a tremor of shock move through him, and then the old bitterness and hatred erupted. “Not again. I let her do this to me once. What a fool I am.” A malevolent rage took hold of him.

“You’re not a fool. She was convincing. Even I thought her a good sort.”

Slapping the papers against his leg, John rumbled, “I should have known.”

“Well, yer a wealthy man, that’s a good thing, eh.” Quincy offered him a slanted grin.

“Wealth has nothing to do with money.” He gritted his teeth. “That’s all she wanted—the money. Get rid of me, and she and her Mr. Douglas can have the whole lot to themselves. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Would seem so.”

John shoved the papers back into the envelope, tied it off, and pushed it into his satchel. “We’ll just see how Mr. Douglas figured on doing me in. I’m sure he has a plan.”

Wearing a vicious smile, John added, “We’ll give him his chance, eh?”