Hank's Runaway Bride (Brides of Chimney Rock Book 1) Read online

  “You’re going to be all right,” he began as he continued to rub her feet. “We’ve got to get you warmed up and then you’ll be back to your old self. Once you think you can start talking, you can tell me your name. Until then, I’ll just call you…” Hank stopped as he looked at her and tried to come up with a nickname. “Missy. Will that be all right? Since you’re either a Missus so-and-so or a Miss so-and-so…”

  Josephine watched as the man tried to help her. His hands appeared rough and worn, as though he worked with them a lot, yet her hands and feet were so cold that she could not tell if they were as callused as they looked. She nodded a little at the nickname he gave her, and resolved to let him keep calling her that for the time being. She was terrified her name could get out and her step-father would find her. Beyond that, it was still hard to think.

  “I reckon that as the room warms up, you’ll warm up, too. Maybe we should get your coat off you? Warmer air can get to you faster that way.” Hank slowly and carefully removed her make-shift sling with her few possessions inside, unfastened her coat, and gently pulled her arms free. He could see that she was wearing several layers of clothes, now that her neck and arms were more exposed.

  “Here, let’s move you closer to the stove. It’s warming the room up some, but it takes a while sometimes.” Hank proceeded to slide the chair a bit closer to the stove. He then got a low stool and propped her feet on it so they weren’t resting on the cold floor, and put her wool socks back on her. They hadn’t been wet, just cold.

  Hank scratched at his stubbly chin as he wondered what else he could do to help Missy. He wished that he knew her real name, but for now Missy would work well enough.

  “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Each time he asked, she slowly shook her head. He wanted to get something warm inside her, though. Help her warm up from the inside as well as from the outside. “I’ve got some canned broth in the root cellar. My boss’s wife made it for me. I’ll be right back.”

  Josephine watched as the man opened a door and hurried down some stairs. It was still hard to form cohesive thoughts. For the past few hours, all she could think about was finding shelter. She had seen Chimney Rock and knew that there was a town close to it by the same name. Once she saw the first house on the horizon, she made what she hoped was a bee line for it. Now that she was here, her brain seemed to have nearly stopped working.

  Hank hurried back upstairs with a jar. Without a word to his guest, he grabbed a pan and poured the contents of the jar into it, and then set it on the stovetop to warm. He turned back to Missy and frowned. He wanted to do more for her, but honestly did not know what he could do. He desperately wanted to fetch Madeline, yet was afraid to leave Missy alone. He was not certain she was out of the woods yet, and if she died, well…he did not want her to die alone.

  He shook his head to chase that thought away, then turned and began to pump some water into a tin bucket from the well at the dry sink. He was always amazed that the Starks had thought to build their permanent homes around the well, so that you did not need to go outside to fetch water. He was never more grateful than now, though. He would certainly do this at his house when he built it this spring.

  Once he had set the bucket on the stovetop next to the broth, he knelt back down by Missy’s feet and began to vigorously rub them with his hands. He worked on her feet for a few minutes, then switched to her hands. He breathed a sigh of relief when, after several minutes of rubbing, Missy began to shiver. Her stillness had worried him something fierce, but now that she was shivering, he knew that her body was working to warm itself.

  Hank glanced back at the stove and saw that the broth was steaming, so he got to his feet and ladled some into a bowl. He set the bowl on the table and retrieved a spoon from the sideboard. Before he sat down, he realized that he had not made his morning coffee yet, so he got the coffee brewing before he took a seat next to Missy.

  “Are you ready to try a little broth?” he asked gently as he picked up the bowl and spoon. Missy was shivering so much that it was hard to tell, but Hank thought he saw her nod a little, so he carefully spooned up about half a spoonful of chicken broth and held it to her lips. Her lips parted a little and he poured the broth from the spoon into her mouth. He felt rather like he was helping to feed George again, his boss’s nephew, back when Georgie could not feed himself.

  Josephine felt the warm broth trickle into her mouth and sighed with pleasure, at least internally. The kind man had managed to get it warmed without making it too hot to eat. She had not realized how cold she had been until she began to warm up, thanks to his ministrations. She was shivering uncontrollably, so she was grateful that he had not expected her to drink the broth on her own. She would have worn most of it, if she would have even been able to hold the spoon.

  Hank slowly continued to feed Missy the broth, a small spoonful at a time, as he waited for the water in the bucket to warm. As he fed her, he noted that his own stomach began to growl and he remembered that he had not eaten yet himself. He hoped that Missy would not hear the rumble, but there was nothing he could do about it. Saving her life was more important than his not eating.

  The water in the bucket eventually began to steam, so Hank set the bowl of broth down on the table and went to check the temperature. It seemed a little warm, but he knew that he could merely pump more cold water from the well to get a good mix. He looked around the kitchen and found a large bowl that he thought would fit her feet well enough. He pumped some cool water into the bowl and then poured the hot water in until he had a warm mix. He knew to not make the water too hot initially—the key would be to slowly warm her feet from their frozen state.

  He carried the bowl to her and set it on the floor near her feet. He looked up to find her watching him with a curious expression on her face. He smiled kindly at her. “I thought maybe we could warm you up faster if we got your feet warm. I know I feel much warmer once my feet warm up.” He felt like he was babbling like a fool. He was never much good at talking to women.

  Josephine nodded her understanding. She was so tired that speaking just seemed like too much effort.

  Hank carefully lifted her feet from the stool, removed her wool socks, and placed them in the bowl of water. He quickly glanced up to see her expression, to make certain he was not causing her pain or undue discomfort. Her face appeared calm, which made him sigh in relief. “I’m going to go get you a blanket to wrap up in, all right? I’ll be right back.”

  When Hank got back with the blanket from his bed and a clean towel for her feet, he noticed that Missy had fallen asleep. He was not certain if that was a good thing or not, but he saw that she was still shivering so he knew that she was still alive at the very least. He wrapped her in the blanket, set the towel on the table, and then glanced outside.

  He had been so focused on saving Missy that he never noticed that it had begun to snow while he had been trying to help her. Now the flakes were coming down so hard and fast he could barely see the barn. He knew that his boss would be expecting him to show up for work today, but given the circumstances, he knew that he would not be going. Once Caleb knew the reason, Hank knew that he would understand and even agree that Hank had done the right thing.

  Hank saw the bucket of milk still sitting on the bench by the back door, right next to the eggs. He quickly put the milk in the ice box to let the cream rise, and proceeded to fix himself some breakfast. He fried up the eggs he had brought in earlier and made himself a fried egg sandwich with some leftover bread from yesterday. It was enough to fill his belly and keep it from growling.

  Once he had eaten, he quickly washed his plate and added a little more warm water to Missy’s bowl with a tin cup. He then sat down at the table with a cup of coffee and stared at the woman who had wandered into his life. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask her, but he knew that they would have to wait.

  He took mental stock of what he did know about her. Something had happened to make Missy risk walking across the prairie in
the dead of night in the middle of winter. Given the bruise he had seen on her temple and cheek, he guessed that someone had abused her. A husband? He had not seen a ring on her finger, nor any sort of mark that would indicate she had taken one off. Her father? He cringed at the thought of any man striking a woman, but he knew that it happened all too often.

  She appeared to be a young woman, maybe ten years younger than himself. Was she as young as she seemed or was she one of those women who just looked young? Would she be interested in an old codger like himself? Not that he was ancient or anything, but he certainly was no spring chicken.

  He could not help but think about marriage. Here he was, about to send off for a mail order bride as his friend Caleb had, when a young woman, apparently single, literally wandered into his life. Was it some sort of divine intervention? Had God directed her in his direction? If the folks in town heard about her being alone with him like this, they would expect him to marry her. Would she agree?

  He rubbed the stubble on his chin as he considered marriage to Missy. That was when he realized how unkempt he must look. He was usually careful to stay clean shaven when he was not out on the trail, but Missy’s arrival had interrupted his usual routine. He finished his coffee, then checked her feet before he headed upstairs to shave.

  Chapter 2

  Josephine awoke to the sensation of someone drying her feet. She opened her eyes and jumped a little in her chair, alarmed at the strange man kneeling at her feet and scrubbing them dry with a towel. It took her a moment to remember where she was and how she had gotten there.

  Hank noticed her jump and glanced up at her as he continued to rub her feet with the towel. He was pleased to see that her feet had regained some color and the bluish tinge had faded. He wanted them good and dry before he put her wool socks back on them. “There you are, Missy. You’ll be pleased to know that it looks like you’ll be keeping all your toes,” he said with a smile.

  Josephine cocked her head to the side a little and looked down at her feet. She was amazed that she could feel them again and wiggled her toes, just to see if she could. They wiggled just as she had told them to, and she smiled a little. “Thank you,” she murmured, embarrassed at having a stranger perform such an intimate task for her as drying her feet.

  He winked, then proceeded to put a pair her socks back on her feet. He did it as quickly as he could to help minimize her discomfort at having a stranger see her feet and lower legs. If it was hard for him to do, it had to be even harder for her.

  She looked away, further embarrassed that he was now dressing her, even if it was just her feet and lower legs. The last person to ever do anything so intimate for her was her mother, and it had been many years since she had done so.

  Hank stood as soon as he had finished. “Well, now…I don’t suppose you have a real name I could call you?”

  Fear raced down Josephine’s spine. The man had been kind and gentle, but there was no telling what he might do if he found out who she was. She definitely did not want to be found by her step-father, no matter what else might happen to her. She was well past her majority and, while she doubted he would even look for her, she did not want to take that chance. She shook her head in response to his question and stared down at her hands, which were slowly returning to their normal color.

  “All right, I’ll just keep calling you Missy, then.” Hank sighed in frustration and sat in the chair closest to hers, which was a good four feet away from her. “Can you tell me why you were wandering around the prairie in the middle of the night in this weather?”

  Josephine chewed at her lip as she thought about what she might tell the man. “Can I…would you…” Her voice sounded weak to her own ears as she tried to form her thoughts. It would be easier to speak to him if she knew his name. “I don’t even know your name,” she finally managed.

  Hank smiled. “Hank. Hank Sanders, but you just call me Hank. Everyone does. Mr. Sanders was my pa,” he teased with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Josephine tried to return the smile, then considered her next words carefully before she said the one thing foremost in her mind. “I won’t go back. You can’t make me go back. I’m old enough to be on my own.”

  “Missy, if that bruise on your face is the reason why you left, I would never make you go back. Was it your husband who did that to you?” Hank needed to know that she was not indeed married, now that the thought crossed his mind that maybe she would marry him. Maybe she was married, but they could not afford a ring.

  “No,” she murmured. “I’m not married.”

  Relief washed over him like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. “Was it your pa?”

  Josephine shook her head. “My pa was a good man. He died when I was just a little girl.” At his look of confusion, she told him the truth. “It was my step-father. He never liked me.”

  Hank sat back in his chair and thought about that for a minute. “Does he hit your ma, too?”

  “Oh, no. He never laid a hand on her. She’s gone now, though. She died three years ago.”

  “How old were you when they got married? Did he start hitting you after your ma passed away or before?” Hank was raised to never raise a hand against a woman, any woman, regardless of the circumstances. He needed to understand what Missy had been going through—needed it in a way he did not quite understand himself.

  Josephine looked down at her hands and began to pluck at her skirt nervously. “I was ten when they married. We moved to Nebraska when I was thirteen. That’s when he started hitting me. He never liked me, though. I look too much like my pa.”

  Anger at what this beautiful young woman had gone through washed over Hank like a raging river. He had always been taught that you never hit a lady, and that all women were ladies from birth. Just thinking about that man hurting Missy made him want to return each and every blow she must have taken over the years.

  He cleared his throat before he trusted himself to talk again. “You’re safe here, Missy. No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise you that.”

  She wanted to believe him. He seemed to be sincere, kind, and honest. Yet, given her past experience with her step-father, Josephine was reluctant to trust any man, much less one she had literally just met. She decided to reserve judgement and proceed with caution. She nodded in response, more to let him know that she had heard what he had said than in belief of his words.

  Hank saw the doubt in her eyes and his heart went out to her. He knew that when an animal was wounded, you needed to take the time to regain their trust. He reckoned that people were much the same way. He hated to see that haunted look in her eyes, though. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  Josephine shook her head in response to each question. “Honestly, I’m just tired.”

  “Of course you are, walking all night like you did. I suppose it’s all right for you to get some sleep, now that your lips ain’t blue no more. Here, let me warm up some bricks and I’ll go make up the bed in the spare room for you.” Hank stood and picked up two large bricks from alongside the wood stove. He set them on top to warm them, then hurried from the room, eager to be able to help Missy once again.

  Josephine watched as Hank bustled about, apparently eager to have something he could do to help her. Her gut instinct was telling her that Hank was just as he seemed, a good man who wanted nothing more than to help her. Her heart, on the other hand, was more guarded and less trusting.

  When Hank returned in a few minutes, he noticed that Missy had already begun to nod off once again. He quickly wrapped the warm bricks in some old flannel shirts he kept handy for just such a purpose and took them back to the bed. After he placed them under the covers near the foot of the bed, he came back for Missy.

  Hank carried her upstairs and gently tucked her into bed. He covered her with every blanket he could find, including the one from his own bed that he had wrapped her in. Once he felt she would be good and warm, he paused to make certain she was still breathing, then he quietly tip-toed out of the room
.

  *****

  Before she even opened her eyes, Josephine knew that she was not in her own bed at home. She was deliciously warm and there was nothing lumpy poking her in the back. It had to be a dream, a wonderful dream that she did not want to wake from. She stretched lazily, which alerted her to the fact that she was nearly completely dressed, minus her boots. Her eyes flew open wide in surprise and she sat up in alarm, uncertain of her surroundings.

  As she tried to stop her heart from pounding, she replayed the events of the previous night. She remembered finally setting her plan into action and running away from home. It seemed ridiculous to run away from home at her age, but that is precisely what she had done. She had made her great escape.

  She had pondered the wisdom of her decision as she had trudged through the snow on the open prairie. Ideally, she would have waited until spring and warmer weather, but her step-father had become increasingly violent since her mother had passed away. She decided that the latest beating she had received at his hands would be her last—the next one might very well kill her.

  When she was younger, she dreamt of a knight in shining armor who would ride up and demand her hand in marriage. He would take her away to his castle across the sea and treat her like a princess for the rest of her life. But as she grew older, she knew that such a thing would never happen. It was just a childish fantasy. She would have to save herself.

  For well over a year, she had gone to bed each night and dreamt about her great escape. She imagined what she might need, what she could feasibly bring along, until she was certain she had it all straight in her mind. When the time came, she was more than ready.

  Josephine remembered stopping to warm herself as best she could when she had stumbled upon an old sod house. She had rested until she could feel her hands and feet once more, and then had continued her northerly march. She was certain that she would at least find the railroad tracks or the river, and then she could follow those to a town. Fortunately, she had seen Chimney Rock and headed toward it. She came across a homestead before she had ever reached the river.