The Borrowed Bride by Elizabeth Lane

Author:Elizabeth Lane
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Ten

Seattle, Washington, October 11

My dearest Hannah,

J udd stared down at what he’d written. Good Lord, what was he thinking? It had been a long, tiring day. Maybe he was even more exhausted than he’d realized. Crumpling the sheet of hotel stationery, he picked up the fountain pen and started again on a fresh sheet of paper.

Dear Hannah,

Unless you get a wire to the contrary, know that I’m here in Seattle, still looking for Quint. I spent the day checking the police stations and hospitals. So far I’ve found no sign that he was even here. Tomorrow I plan to dig deeper. If I hear any news at all, even if it’s bad, I promise I’ll let you know at once. You may need to prepare yourself for the worst.

Your three letters were waiting for me in Skagway. Thank you for keeping me abreast of things on the ranch. You’re doing a fine job, as I knew you would. Your letters for Quint remain at the post office. It may be that he’ll come by for them. But after weeks of searching, I’ve come to doubt that he was ever in Alaska.

I’ll leave it to your discretion how much of this news to share with Mother. She’s fragile, and she sets great store by Quint. More worry could have a bad effect on her health. But tell her if you think she needs to know.

Now that I’m here, it will be easier to keep in touch. If you have anything urgent to report, you can send a telegram to me at the hotel address shown on this letterhead.

Yours in hope,

Judd

Hannah read Judd’s letter sitting on the porch with Quint’s dog sprawled against her leg. It was the late afternoon of an Indian summer day. Splotches of red oak and bright gold aspen painted the mountain slopes. Above the tree line, the peaks glittered with the first dusting of snow.

In the fields the men were cutting the tall alfalfa with the haymow and raking it into rows. The fresh, sweet aroma of new-mown hay drifted on the air. Overhead, a trailing V of mallard ducks winged south against the azure sky.

Hannah reread the letter, her eyes tracing each curve of Judd’s masterful script. Knowing the truth was a fearful burden, she thought. The awful press of its weight was almost physical.

Inside the house, Edna lay partially paralyzed from the stroke she’d suffered last month. Dr. Fitzroy had estimated her remaining time in days; then, as she rallied and clung to life, in weeks. So far she’d defied the odds. But it was clear that only the hope of seeing Quint again kept her alive.

How could Hannah tell the poor woman that her beloved younger son had vanished without a trace, and that Judd despaired of finding him alive?

And how could she tell Judd about his mother? Knowing Judd, he’d be torn between coming home and continuing the desperate search. It would be an agonizing choice.

Quint’s dog thrust its damp nose beneath her hand, begging to be petted.

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