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That grows on the edge of a Kansas bluff!
—FRANK DESPREZ
Two Weeks Later, Kansas Territory
“And how do you like living with your big brother?” Chuck Kody asked as he squinted through his thick eyeglasses, trying to see Hannah across the large oak dining table. “It’s quite different from living ’midst the hustle and bustle of Saint Louis, isn’t it, sis?”
Since she was no longer under the scrutiny of her parents, or the sisters at the convent, Hannah was feeling at peace with herself for the first time in weeks. Except for her concern over her brother’s failing eyesight, she would feel that finally all was well in her world.
She shoved her empty breakfast plate aside, saddened that he couldn’t see well enough now to see her give him a warm smile.
“I love it,” she said, rising from her chair. She went to Chuck and stood behind him, then draped her arms around his neck and lay a cheek on his h
ead. “I’m glad to be here with you.”
He reached up and patted one of her hands. “It’s not the same, though, is it?” he said thickly.
She leaned around him and kissed his cheek. “No, it isn’t,” she said, her voice drawn. “I wish I could wave a magic wand and tell your eyes to be like they were years ago when we went horseback riding every morning before breakfast. Now that was living, big brother. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as alive as then.”
“Damn my eyes,” Chuck said in a low growl. “I can hardly see an inch ahead of me now, much less ride a horse.”
Hannah stepped away from him as he inched his chair back and rose slowly to his feet. She flinched when he stumbled over the leg of the chair, causing it to fall over with a loud crack against the polished oak floor.
“Hell,” Chuck said, bending and searching for the chair with his hand.
“I’ll get it for you,” Hannah said, tears filling her eyes to see his helplessness.
“No,” Chuck said. He reached a hand out to stop her. “Please don’t patronize me, Hannah. I’m not that helpless. Not yet, anyhow. It’s just a damn chair. Anyone can knock over a damn, stupid chair.”
Covering her mouth with her hands, Hannah stood back and watched him grope around for the chair.
Once he found it, she could see how his hands trembled as he locked his fingers around the back of the chair. She wanted to rush in and get it upright again for him, so that he would not have to feel the helplessness that he was surely experiencing.
She sighed heavily as the chair was finally in place at the table.
She then watched as her brother searched around for his cane, then sighed again when he found it.
As he inched himself along, feeling his way across the room with his cane, Hannah walked beside him. She didn’t dare place a hand to his elbow and help him. Although she was there for that very purpose, she had discovered upon first arriving at the ranch that it had not been his decision at all to have her there, to see to his every need. It had been her father’s. He had taken it upon himself to interfere in his son’s and daughter’s lives again.
She knew, deep down, that her brother was thankful she was there, no matter the circumstances. And she certainly had not minded her father manipulating her life this time, either. It had gained her freedom from the convent.
How wonderful it was to be out here in the wide-open spaces where she could look for miles and miles and see the vastness of the land. Just seeing it made her feel free, sometimes even wild, as though she were one with the land and the animals.
While horseback riding, she had even taken advantage of her newfound freedom to go and take a look at the Potawatomis Indian village not far from her brother’s ranch. In fact, their land adjoined Chuck’s. It was hard to tell where their land stopped and Chuck’s started. Only a small portion of his ranch, used for pasturing cows, was bordered with a fence.
Thus far, Hannah had not come face-to-face with any Potawatomis people. The thought intrigued her, especially since they were her neighbors.
“You go on, now, Hannah, and take your morning ride,” Chuck said as they entered the parlor.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me,” Hannah joked back.
“Never,” Chuck said, stopping to turn to her. He searched with his hand until he found her face. He ran his fingers over her features. “Sweet Hannah. You don’t know how good it is to have you here. Please forgive me if I get grouchy sometimes. I’m finding it damn hard to adjust to my affliction. Please always remember, though, that having you here helps lighten the burden.”
“I hope so,” she murmured. “I only wish to do what is best for you.”
Her gaze moved over him. He was a tall, handsome man. Although he could buy any expensive suit he wished, he usually wore fringed buckskins. He had told her that he wore the buckskins because they were more comfortable. She knew that the true reason was because they were easier to get into, with no buttons to maneuver into buttonholes.
His collar-length hair was the same color as hers, as golden as Kansas wheat. And his eyes, although having failed him, were still a sparkling green.
