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“Drink is a demon, Mr. Cain,” she glared. “You’ve used it against me.”

He laughed coldly, then just stared into her flashing eyes. He saw some of their former spark, but it had been tempered by her days of lust. She looked wasted now; no doubt unfit for sex until she recuperated from the past few days.

As she stood trembling before him, Hannah could see Jarrett Cain’s mind working, and felt a dozen rancorous insults as if he actually spoke them aloud. She was not prepared for more of his venom, too weary now and too hurt from the physical abuse to listen to more of his slurs. Her monthly menses sent cramping waves through her lower body, and she simply prayed that he’d get on with whatever he planned to do or leave her be.

She could barely look at him, but then, quite strangely, the familiar scorn she’d seen so often from the man disappeared with a swiftness that bewildered the beleaguered woman. “I’ll have your cuffs removed and one of my men give you something to eat,” he informed her. “Then you’ll be returned safely to your husband’s farm.” He returned to his work, waving her off.

Hannah sat for some time in the cool entry of the ranch house—exactly where she’d been told to sit. Jarrett didn’t emerge from his study, at least not from the door that led to the corridor where she waited. Perhaps an hour passed, and Eldon Tremaine finally walked through the front door.

“Your horse has been saddled, Hannah; you’re going home,” he said.

She breathed a sigh of relief and rose to her feet.

Hannah was abandoned on the road within a few hundred yards of the farmhouse. Her mind was battered with facts she didn’t want to face. But with the rest of her life staring her down with a face of judgment she could not avert, she was forced to consider her next move. From where she sat on Little Jenny, she could view the empty house—Daniel’s farmhouse, not hers, not anymore. She felt a hollow space inside where her heart used to be, something having died inside that could not be resurrected.

After some minutes, she finally gave Jenny a little kick and they moved into the yard, where she dismounted and stretched her legs. It had been a long ride and she was tired to the bone. A wave of nausea passed through her as she made her way up the porch steps.

She surveyed her world, seeing everything in shades of gray. Color, energy, will, desire—gone. The pleasures of her world were no more.

Inside the bedroom she shared with her husband, she stared for many minutes at a pair of Daniel’s trousers that needed mending. She brought them to her face, smelling the redolence of his body still clinging to the fibers. Surely his familiar scent might elicit some yearning for him, but her wifely desire was too covered with shame to find it now.

The rooms were all empty; the barn was empty. Even the gloomy desolation did not move her. Her heart was a stone, barely stirred by anything but remorse, as if all that was good inside her ceased the moment her spirit gave in to the perverse thrill of Jarrett Cain’s crude demands.

Consumed by her despair, she immediately knew what she had to do and quickly threw herself into the task. She spent the next hour feeding the animals that had waited far too long for this meal. She gave them extra food not knowing when they’d be fed next. Finally, after packing a small bag of her things and some food for the road, she mounted Little Jenny, who was still waiting saddled in the yard, and road out. The need for escape propelled her forward at a vicious speed.

She stopped when she was at the place where Eldon Tremaine had left her an hour before. Looking back she felt no different than she’d felt while walking through the empty rooms of the farmhouse. This was not hers anymore, she could not be its mistress when she’d failed so miserably in the task.

Turning west, she headed toward the bridge road that would take her over the hills and into the valley beyond. The wind was at her back, driving her on. With any luck she would reach that valley before the weather turned and would find a new place to call her home.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“What a fine meal, Hannah. It’s been some time since we’ve eaten anything this tasty.”

Hannah cleared the kitchen table of dishes and offered Miss Mamie a brief smile.

“Glad you liked it.”

“Hey, you’ve been the best thing that’s happened here in the last couple of years. I should keep you around.”

“Only if I’m useful,” she answered with a warm grin.

Hannah was grateful for the woman’s generosity. If it hadn’t been for Mamie on that Godforsaken night the week before, she didn’t know what would have happened to her. She had no illusions about where she was when she dismounted her horse in the driving rainstorm and knocked on the door to the only house with the lights on. The sign in the window clearly indicated the purpose of this establishment. “Ladies Available”. This was where a woman with her newfound proclivities belonged and she might as well get used to it. If she’d let her body be ravaged by scoundrels and contemptuous villains—and enjoyed it—she might as well get paid. Fate had taken her choices from her, making her life no more than a string of accommodations to fit the ruined woman she’d become.

Miss Mamie had given her a warm meal; nothing fancy, just leftovers from their evening supper. But they tasted good. It had been slow a night because of the rain and most of the girls were upstairs asleep—just one customer shaking the bedsprings in a room above. Hannah imagined that Mamie would have been in bed too if she hadn’t arrived, pressing her sorrowful need with a sad face. It was nearly one o’clock.

After Hannah had satisfied herself with the food and was feeling much warmer, she tentatively asked the question burning in her mind. “You don’t suppose there’s a place for me here, do you?”

“You mean for the night? Certainly, I have a spare room.”

“I appreciate your kindness and hospitality, but, I…I was actually looking for something more permanent than just a night.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“You want to live here?” The woman looked surprised.

“I’m sure I can do as well as the other girls.” She blushed, not realizing how difficult it was to talk about these things.

Mamie laughed. She was a bold, bosomy redhead with a dark heart-shaped mole painted on one cheek. She was not pretty, her features were large, her eyes a little too widely spaced, but Hannah could imagine that men loved crawling into her big succulent body. Her fragrance filled the room. It likely filled the whole house, just like her clarity, firmness and generosity did. Some say the good ones have a heart of gold, Mamie was one of those.

“You’re not a whore, Hannah,” she bluntly declared. She stared at her guest, eyeing the lovely youthful hand with its gleaming gold ring on her left ring finger. “Honey, you’re some man’s wife, and he’s gonna come here someday and claim you. I don’t want some vengeful man taking out his anger on me!”

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