Matthew: The Circle Eight Read Online Free Page A

was Hannah?” He surely sounded like a young fool.
    “Are you deaf, boy? I done told you that already.” Frank leaned forward. “Are you teched in the head or somethin’?”
    Matt shook his head. “No, just a huge fool. Is she new in town?”
    “She’s lived here all her life at the boardinghouse with her granny. You and your kin are the new ones in town.” Frank humphed.
    “I really didn’t mean to scare her. I was just trying to apologize.” Matt knew he might have just made another big mistake by letting Hannah leave the store. Not only did she have the right name, but there was a bizarre connection between them.
    He turned and glared at Caleb, who was back to staring at the rifles. “I ought to kick your ass six ways to Sunday.”
    Caleb’s eyes widened at the ferocity in Matt’s tone. “What did I do?”
    “You just insulted my future wife.”

C HAPTER T HREE
     
    H annah walked as fast as she could with the sack of turnips clutched in her hands. Something had happened at the mercantile and she had no idea what. There was a man there and something had happened.
    Her stomach jumped as if a dozen frogs had taken up residence in it. If she wasn’t walking so fast, her knees would be knocking. Her experience with handsome men could fit into a thimble, and she had just met the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
    Nothing about him was ordinary, including his incredible blue-green eyes, strong jaw, and wide shoulders. She’d never forget his hands. When he’d touched her wrist, it was as if something had traveled between them, making every small hair on her body stand up. She was sure he’d felt it, too.
    It was extraordinary.
    Hannah refused to let her imagination loose, but it was damn hard. For the first time in her life, something romantic had happened to her. Muddy, disheveled, and so very plain, she had caught his attention. What did it mean? She should talk to Granny about it, but first she wanted to relive every moment as she cut up the turnips.
    This time, her fantasy wasn’t something she made up. Hannah had a real man to daydream about. Hannah wanted to chide herself for dwelling on the handsome blue-eyed man. Perhaps if there hadn’t been an instant spark between them it would have been easy to dismiss him, but there had been and so she couldn’t.
    “Hannah, what are you doing?” Granny’s voice yanked her out of her reverie like a bucket of cold water.
    “What?” She looked down and realized she was standing in the kitchen clutching the potato sack while the stew bubbled merrily on the stove.
    “It looks like you’re touched in the head, child.” Granny’s cane thumped on the wooden floor as she walked toward the small table and chairs. “I’ve been calling you the last five minutes.”
    Hannah’s cheeks heated. “I’m sorry. I had to go buy turnips at the general store and I, uh, was wool-gathering a bit.”
    With more fervor than necessary, she got busy washing more turnips for the stew. She cut them into smaller pieces since they should have been in the pot thirty minutes ago. Granny sat there, staring a hole in Hannah’s back until she was about ready to scream.
    “Why are you staring at me?” she finally asked, keeping her voice as steady as she could.
    “I’m trying to puzzle out what is wrong with you.” Granny was too observant.
    “There’s nothing wrong with me. But lots of other things have gone wrong today.” Just then the knife slipped and she sliced open her thumb. “Dammit to hell.”
    “Hannah Josephine Foley! Who taught you how to cuss?” Granny had shot to her feet, her face flushed, her jowels swinging with each word, her finger wagging. “I ought to wash your mouth out with soap.”
    “I’m not a little girl. I can cuss if I want to.” Hannah was embarrassed to have cursed in front of her grandmother, but her thumb pulsed with pain. She wrapped a towel around it and held her arm up. For a time about five years ago, the town doctor had lived