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

Did she dare try to talk to him about her concerns? If she didn’t, how would they be able to keep their farm? How would they survive?

“Come with Mama.” With one hand Annalisa clutched the apron full of walnuts, and with the other she reached for Gretchen, trying to keep from trembling. “Give Mama your hand and we’ll take a walk.”

Gretchen’s chubby fingers slid into hers. “Go to river?”

“Maybe later.” As much as she’d grown to despise the river that ran through the property and all the problems it had caused with E. B. Ward and with Hans’s gambling, she couldn’t deny the delight it brought to Gretchen. The river’s edge was always a restful spot, a cool retreat for her sore feet, and a place where she could escape her troubles, even if only for a moment.

“Nein, first we must go speak with your papa.” Annalisa started forward but slowed her steps to match those of the little girl. Gretchen was barefoot like her, and although the skin on their feet was thick and toughened after a summer without shoes, Annalisa chose her path carefully over the sharp twigs and through the crackling leaves that had already fallen.

“Soon we must get you shoes,” she said, not knowing how they would afford a new pair now. Hans had never provided them with essentials such as shoes. To Hans, getting the horse shod took priority over buying shoes for a mere daughter. He would only tell her a horse was more valuable to the farm than a girl.

At the edge of the clearing she stopped and took another deep breath of the smoky air. She exhaled, but a dizzying wave of nausea swept over her again.

“Ach.” She swallowed hard, fighting against the unsettling sensation, focusing on the field ahead.

They’d raised three acres of corn, which was one crop that would grow among the stumps left from the clearing. Of course, they’d lost some of the crop to the deer, raccoons, and turkeys, but they’d been able to take a good portion to the docks in Forestville to send to market in Detroit.

They’d also grown wheat and oats in the cleared land closer to the cabin and barn. The crops had been plentiful and had brought them the cash they desperately needed.

Until Hans had so foolishly gambled away the profit . . .

Pain twisted through her. She had to prepare herself for the possibility that they might end up homeless. What hope did they have of meeting their loan deadline next fall if Hans kept squandering their hard-earned money?



Maybe if she pleaded with him to stop . . .

“Let’s go find your papa.” Annalisa forced her feet forward, trembling at the intensity of her need to keep him from harming them any more than he already had.

Could she really confront her husband?

If she did, she knew she’d make him angry again. In their three years of marriage, he hadn’t used physical force against her. But he wouldn’t hesitate to punish her in other, more subtle ways—as he usually did whenever she displeased him.

Only the past evening he’d forced her to skip supper because she’d forgotten to grease one of his traps. It hadn’t mattered that she’d been busy all day, pulling up the last of the root vegetables—carrots, beets, and turnips—and covering them with sand in their shallow cellar in preparation for winter.

Her brother Uri had witnessed Hans’s discipline and had later brought her something to eat. But even so, should she risk angering Hans again?

Gretchen stumbled next to her, and Annalisa clutched her daughter to keep her from falling. Thick clods of dirt littered the ground as if trying to stop Annalisa from going to him. Dried, empty cornstalks snagged at her skirt like brittle fingernails attempting to grab her and hold her back.

“Gott, help me.” She pulled Gretchen to a stop. Why did she think Hans would care what she had to say?

“Pray, Mama?” Gretchen peered up at her.

“Ja, let’s pray.” Annalisa closed her eyes. But even as her soul cried out to Gott, her plea died on her lips. Gott wouldn’t care about the problems of a young woman on a fall afternoon—especially a poor immigrant girl like herself. If Gott were like all the other men in her life, then He was busy with more important things.

Gott was probably at the farm across the road, helping her family, especially her vater. After all, Vater was as religious as a good Lutheran could be and deserved Gott’s help.

“Look.” Gretchen tugged Annalisa’s hand. “Papa’s sleeping.”

Annalisa’s eyes flew open, and she straightened with a start. “What? Your papa? Sleeping? Impossible.”

She followed the direction of Gretchen’s finger, and the tumult in her mind came to an abrupt halt.

There, on the ground next to a pile of burning slashings, lay Hans. From the middle of the cornfield where they stood, it did indeed appear as if he’d decided to take a nap.

With the flames blazing nearby and the sparks shooting into the air, why would he do something so irresponsible?

Like all the settlers, he knew the dangers of fires fanning out of control and spreading.

“Come, liebchen.” She walked faster, and Gretchen’s short legs had to work hard to keep up. “He must be sick.”

Why would Hans waste time sleeping when he could amuse himself in more entertaining ways like playing cards and drinking?

Unless he was sick?

When she reached the edge of the cornfield, she halted with an abruptness that caused Gretchen to bump into her backside.