A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(17)

Annalisa knew she should run to him, shush him, and make him go back into the safety of the barn. But his shoulders were squared with the strength of the man he was quickly becoming, and his choppy steps were decisive. She wouldn’t be able to sway him. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“You folks are the stubbornest people I know.” Ward tripped over the German words.

She was thankful for the language barrier between them. It offered some safety from having to speak too much or too long to the man.

Uri stopped beside her and lifted the shovel. “Go on. Get out of here.”

Ward shifted his arm just enough to reveal a pistol tucked into a holster beneath his coat.

“I’ve made it my job to protect my sister from anything or anyone who tries to hurt her.” Uri didn’t budge, and the shovel in his hand didn’t waver.

Annalisa lifted her hand to the boy’s shoulder, wanting to pull him back into her embrace and hide him behind her skirts. Instead, she squeezed his tense muscles, hoping he would stop before he pushed Ward too far.

Ward eyed the boy with a sneer.

Uri was strong but wouldn’t be a match for a man like Ward. For that matter, she wouldn’t be able to fight him either if he decided to attack her. She’d end up dead, just like Hans.

And then who would give Gretchen a better life?



Was the fight against Ward really worth what it could cost her?

“Come along.” She tugged Uri away, back toward the barn.

He jerked away from her, and his wiry body sprang toward Ward like a trap about to close its steel teeth. He swung his arm, angling the sharp edge of the shovel toward Ward’s head.

“Nein, Uri!” She lunged for the boy and grabbed his arm, holding him back before the sharp edge cut into Ward.

The man jumped and bumped into his mare. The horse shifted and threw him further off-balance so that he fell with a heavy splat, sending a spray of mud flying into the air.

The muck showered Uri and her clean skirt.

Uri started after Ward again, but she dragged him backward, slipping and sliding in the mud with each step.

“That boy tried to kill me.” Ward huffed, pushing himself up and glaring at Uri as if he would murder him if he could only get his hands on him.

“We don’t want any trouble.” She held on to Uri with a strong grip, one she’d perfected while butchering chickens.

He struggled, but she dug her fingers into his arm.

Ward grabbed the horse’s stirrup and used it to heft up his frame. “Dumb, dirty Germans,” he muttered in English.

Even though the language was foreign, Annalisa still understood the slur. She’d heard it often in Detroit. And she could only pray that someday her children would be American enough that no one would insult them with such words.

As it was, her gaze dropped to the mud on her skirt, to the frayed edges, and then to her ugly, plain shoes. Maybe she wasn’t really dirty. But she couldn’t measure up, not as a daughter, a wife, or even an American. She seemed destined to fall short with everyone, even God.

“Don’t bother my sister anymore.” Uri’s young lean body strained against her hold.



Ward rubbed his gloved hand against his backside only to smear a layer of dark mud across the soft leather.

With a stream of grunting and swearing he managed to hoist himself back into his saddle. “Listen here, girl. If you don’t sell the land to me now, I’ll get it eventually.”

She shook her head, but before she could protest, he cut her off.

“You can make this easy. Or hard.” He shifted so that the handle of his pistol peeked at her again. “It’s your choice.”

She forced down the lump of fear that threatened to make her speechless. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep my land.”

“And I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get it.” His gravelly voice was heavy with unspoken threats.

She trembled but didn’t move.

When he kicked his horse into a trot and started down the rutted trail toward the road, she finally let go of Uri and sagged with the weight of relief.

He was gone. For now.

But what would she do the next time he showed up? How long could she hold out against him without him hurting her? Or worse, murdering her?





Chapter

4





Carl eyed the open door of the cabin.

Did he dare make a run for it?

He perched on the edge of the chair and drummed his fingers on the table.

With her back to him, Frau Bernthal stirred a wooden spoon in a large pot on the range. Other than issuing orders to two of her children who’d run off to do her bidding, Frau Bernthal had not spoken more than a dozen words to him in the hour he’d been waiting, even when he’d tried to make polite conversation.

The shifting shadows outside the door and the changing angle of the afternoon sunlight indicated evening would soon be upon him. And his chances of leaving this strange, godforsaken place would slip past—at least until morning.

He’d determined to follow Matthias’s advice and hide in the wilderness of central Michigan among the peasants. It was still his safest option.

But during his months of running and hiding, he’d had the time to consider other options more appropriate for his station. And after weighing all the ideas, the only other plan even slightly feasible was to try to track down his old university classmate and fellow scientist, Fritz Diehl. Last he’d heard several years ago, Fritz had gone to Chicago and was teaching physics at Northwestern University.