Sierra's Homecoming by Linda Lael Miller

her own color rise then, remembering all they’d done together, on the spare room floor, herself and this man. She swallowed and lifted her chin a notch, so he wouldn’t think she was ashamed.
    â€œAbout last night—” Doss began. He looked distraught.
    Hannah waited, blushing furiously now. Wishing the floor would open, so she could fall right through to China and never be seen or heard from again.
    Doss shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said.
    Hannah hadn’t expected anything except shame, but she was stung by it, just the same. “We’ll just pretend—” She had to stop, clear her throat, blink a couple of times. “We’ll just pretend it didn’t happen.”
    His jaw tightened. “Hannah, it did happen, and pretending won’t change that.”
    She intertwined her fingers, clasped them so tightly that the knuckles ached. Looked down at the floor. “What else can we do, Doss?” she asked, almost in a whisper.
    â€œSuppose there’s a child?”
    Hannah hadn’t once thought of that possibility, though it seemed painfully obvious in the bright, rational light of day. She drew in a sharp breath and put a hand to her throat.
    How would they explain such a thing to Tobias? To the McKettricks and the people of Indian Rock?
    â€œI’d have to go to Montana,” she said, after a long time. “To my folks.”
    â€œNot with my baby growing inside you, you wouldn’t,” Doss replied, so sharply that Hannah’s gaze shot back to his face.
    â€œDoss, the scandal—”
    â€œTo hell with the scandal!”
    Hannah reached out, pulled back Holt’s chair at the table and sank into it. “Maybe I’m not. Surely just once—”
    â€œMaybe you are,” Doss insisted.
    Hannah’s eyes smarted. She’d wanted more children, but not like this. Not out of wedlock, and by her late husband’s brother. Folks would call her a hussy, with considerable justification, and they’d make Tobias’s life a plain misery, too. They’d point and whisper, and the other kids would tease.
    â€œWhat are we going to do, then?” she asked.
    He crossed the room, sat astraddle the long bench next to the table, so close she could feel the warmth of his body, glowing like the fresh fire blazing inside the cookstove.
    His very proximity made her remember things better forgotten.
    â€œThere’s only one thing we can do, Hannah. We’ll get married.”
    She gaped at him. “Married?”
    â€œIt’s the only decent thing to do.”
    The word decent stabbed at Hannah. She was a proud person, and she’d always lived a respectable life. Until the night before. “We don’t love each other,” she said, her voice small. “And anyway, I might not be—expecting.”
    â€œI’m not taking the chance,” Doss told her. “As soon as the trail clears a little, we’re going into Indian Rock and get married.”
    â€œI have some say in this,” Hannah pointed out.
    Outside, on the back porch, Tobias thumped his boots against the step, to shake off the snow.
    â€œDo you?” Doss asked.

Chapter Six
    Present Day
    W hile Travis and Liam were in the barn, Sierra inspected the wood-burning stove. She found a skillet, set it on top, took bacon and eggs from the refrigerator, which was ominously dark and silent, and laid strips of the bacon in the pan. When the meat began to sizzle, she felt a little thrill of accomplishment.
    She was actually cooking on a stove that dated from the nineteenth century. Briefly, she felt connected with all the McKettrick women who had gone before her.
    When the electricity came on, with a startling revving sound, she was almost sorry. Keeping an eye on breakfast, she switched on the small countertop TV to catch the morning news.
    The entire northern part of Arizona had been inundated in the blizzard, and