An Unexpected Widow (The Colorado Brides Series) by Carré White Page A

anything.”
    “I will.”
    I waited for as long as I could, the hour growing late, and then I grasped the banister, pulling myself up, one step at a time, as if I were marching to my own execution. In the bedroom, the lamp blazed, flashing out yellow light. My clothing was left on a chair, while I pulled the nightgown over my head. Then I grasped each hairpin, tugging it free. Once my face and hands were washed, I slipped under the covers, but the heat forced me to throw back the heavier blanket. It would be another hour before I slid from the mattress, sliding open the window, feeling the breeze.
    “Oh, Frank,” I murmured.
    It was useless trying to sleep. Snatching the lamp, I’d made my decision, hastening from the room and down the stairs. The house was eerily quiet; the only light came from the moon, which shone in through the windows. I left the porch, my feet crunching over gravel, as I reached the bunkhouse. Its lights were out. The door creaked on noisy hinges. This woke one of the occupants, who sat up suddenly, glancing in my direction.
    “Hannah?” It was Nathan. “What’s wrong?”
    “Might I have a word?”
    He got to his feet, sliding them into shoes. “Sure.”
    We stood outside, while a gust of air sent strands of hair into my face. “I…can’t sleep.”
    “I’m sorry.” Our eyes met, as my silent entreaty was understood. “I’ll stay with you, if you like.”
    “It might help.”
    He took the lantern. “All right.”
    Relief flooded me, although I knew this was highly improper. In the house, we worked our way up the stairs, trying not to wake Maria. There was a creaky fourth step, but the others were quiet. Once in the bedroom, I left the robe and slippers behind, sitting on the mattress. Nathan went around to the other side. He lay next to me, but I wasn’t able to make out his features, because his face was hidden in the darkness. I rolled into him, finding the solitude that had eluded me all day, closing my eyes. His arms went around me, and it wasn’t long before I drifted to sleep.
    In the morning, I stared at the ceiling, knowing that Nathan was gone. I lay like this for quite a while, having no desire to leave the bed.
    Maria appeared in the doorway. “You missed breakfast, Mrs. Clark. Do you want me to bring you lunch?”
    “No. Can you just go away, please?”
    “Yes, Mrs. Clark.”
    It was peaceful under the blankets, with the window open, bringing in the breeze. Later in the day, necessity forced me to leave the room, my feet in slippers, as I wandered to the outhouse. Once I returned, I slipped silently up the stairs, crawling into bed. Nathan wasn’t with me that night, or the night after. In the late hours, coyotes and crickets serenaded me, while during the daytime, the men shouted in the fields as they worked. I stayed in my room, mostly in bed all day, listening to noises outside. Maria brought up food, which I picked at, but my appetite wasn’t significant.
    She sometimes stood at the door. “We’re going to church, Mrs. Clark. Are you coming?”
    “Go away.”
    “Yes, Mrs. Clark.”
    I lay in bed listening to the wagon, as I imagined Nathan drove it, bringing Jerry and Maria to Denver City. I had no desire to see people—people who stared at me with sympathy, their faces mirroring the way I felt, but it seemed magnified when it came from someone else. I hated to be looked at with pity. Everyone I knew had a husband and a family. I had no one.
    Aware that the house was empty, I stumbled from the bed, my hair hanging limply around my shoulders. I hadn’t cried in more than a week, but the tears fell now. In fact, the sudden onslaught knocked me off my feet, as I collapsed onto the wood floor. Not being able to see anything through the veil of tears, I crawled around, my hair tangling in my hands, while my body shook with emotion. I could feel my face contorting, my stomach clenching with each sob, the floor wetting beneath me. At the stairs, I slid down one