He stopped at a respectful distance. His hat cast part of his face in shadow. Hannah forced herself to meet his eyes. Mr. Dalton, my children do.
His voice was barely above a whisper. Hannah stared. Grant nodded toward Molly and Henry. My children want you. Molly crossed the space first.
She slid her hand into Hannah's. Henry stood beside them, looking toward the corner where the women had disappeared. "They're stupid," he said. Grant said, "Henry, they are." "Hush." Henry did, but only technically. Hannah looked at Grant.
Something in her chest had broken open, but not in the way she wanted. My children do, not me. Not I do. His children. Of course.
That was what she was here for. The house, the food, the ledger, the children. Hannah squeezed Molly's hand. Thank you. Grant's brow furrowed.
He seemed to hear something in her voice. Hannah. The church door opened. Walter Price leaned out. Grant, they're asking for you.
Grant looked back, then at Hannah again. For one suspended second, she thought he might say more. He didn't. Come inside, he said. Hannah smiled, a careful smile.
I'll be in shortly. Grant hesitated, then nodded. Henry followed reluctantly. Molly kept hold of Hannah until the last possible moment before Grant guided her inside. The door closed.
Music swallowed them. Hannah stood alone beneath the cottonwoods. She pressed one hand against her ribs. My children do. She repeated it under her breath.
It should have comforted her. Instead, the words seemed to draw a boundary around everything Grant had never said. His children wanted her. His house needed her. His ranch ran better with her.
And Grant Dalton, Grant Dalton had looked at her in a burgundy dress and told her it suited her, nothing more. Hannah returned to the hall several minutes later. Grant was standing near the wall with Alice Vance. Alice was speaking. Grant was not smiling.
Still, the sight stopped Hannah for half a heartbeat. Then Molly saw her. The little girl abandoned a plate of pie and ran across the room. Henry followed. Hannah bent toward them.
Grant looked over Alice's shoulder. His eyes found Hannah. She looked away. For the rest of the evening, she never let herself meet them again for longer than a second. On the wagon ride home, Molly slept against Hannah.
Henry slept on the opposite bench. Grant drove in silence. The moon had risen over the ridge. Wheels creaked. Leather rains shifted softly in his hands.
Once Grant began to speak. Hannah. She kept her eyes on the road ahead. Yes, Mr. Dalton.