Montana Wife (Historical) (11 page)

“You're wrong.”

It was the way she flurried about, anxious to straighten up the counter that was wiped clean and had only the empty egg basket to be put away. That told him he was right and that he might have a chance after all.

More sweat dampened his palms as he waited for her to return from the pantry, where she took her sweet time dispensing of the egg basket. Giving him the chance to calm down, gaze outside and look at all that good land.

Hell, he might as well go ahead and tell her. “I talked to the bank this morning. Went over Wright's head. Talked to his boss, one of the owners of the bank.”

Her movements in the pantry froze. “Did they happen to tell you for sure how long I have to move the rest of our things?”

“No, ma'am. But I did explain how well I've been doing on my own land. I might have lost this year's crop, but I've been wise with my money. Banking it instead of buying a fancy harvester and newfangled sewing machine for my wife.”

That did it. She marched into the kitchen. “Kol may not have been the best at handling money, but he was a wonderful husband. You'll not insult his memory in front of me.”

Daniel's brow drew into deep frown lines as he pivoted from the window to study her, as if seeing her for the first time. “I didn't mean to sound disrespectful. I only meant to say I'm getting by all right, even losing this year's harvest.”

“Oh.” She didn't know what she was going to do with all these emotions running wild inside her.

What she needed was sleep and peace from worry, and she knew that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Either way, Daniel Lindsay didn't belong in her
kitchen or think he would get away with paying for the doc's visit. She yanked the ten from her pocket and slapped it on the windowsill beside him.

There. “Consider that a down payment. I still owe you another five. I'll get that to you before day's end.”

“I'm not expecting you to reimburse me.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I don't want Dayton to get this land. I don't want him being in any position to hurt you like that again.” He straightened his shoulders, the movement making him look even bigger. Infinitely dependable.

But he fumbled as he rolled his hat around in his fingers, a nervous gesture. “Dayton isn't willing to pay more than this land is worth. You know with the failed crop, ranchland in the county has fallen. This property isn't worth what it was, but if I put my homestead up for collateral against this loan, then the bank will let me take over the payments.”

“What?” She couldn't have heard him right. She sank into the window seat's soft cushions, her mind spinning. “But I thought you said they wouldn't. I mean—”

What if by some miracle the bank had had a change of heart? If Daniel could take over this place, then maybe she had a chance to stay here, with the boys. She could rent from Daniel and the boys wouldn't have to move. She'd still have to work two jobs, but they could keep their lives as normal as possible. Maybe in time she could think about finding a father for them. Maybe even Daniel—

No, not Daniel, she thought, remembering his stinging words, watching his deliberate movements as he took his time laying aside his hat.

“The bank said the account has to be made current
by the next payment or they'll repossess, and there's a catch.” He knelt in front of her. He looked so grim that she knew it couldn't be good news. “We have to marry.”

“No. It's too soon, and I know I can do this. I already have a job and—”

“Rayna.” His broad hand covered hers and engulfed it. There was pain in his eyes. “You have to admit it. You have a broken wrist. How can you work scrubbing floors for a living? That injury is only going to get worse.”

“It's a sprain.”

“The other relatives didn't answer you, did they? And they aren't going to. No one wants to take on the burden of providing for a woman and boys who aren't their own. I've seen it. Women who work themselves into ill health, or death, desperate to keep their families together. I've seen it, and I don't want that to happen to you.”

He didn't know where the tenderness came from, but it was there, oddly taking root in his heart. She was going to be his woman, his wife, and what in tarnation did he know about taking care of a woman like her?

Not one thing, but he brushed the hair out of her eyes. Lord, it was the softest thing he'd ever felt, and caught a single teardrop on the pad of his thumb.

“You know I'm right.” He said the words kindly, because he meant them that way, and he hated seeing her so defeated. “This is our one chance. For me to buy more land and for you to give your boys a good life. They can stay here and go to school and grow up with their mother home to take care of them.”

She shook her head, more tears falling. “I even thought about marrying again. That's what Nick Gray
down the road did. He married my dear friend Mariah not three weeks after his first wife's death. He had little children and—”

“It's an arrangement, that's all.” What else could it be? Daniel wished he knew what to do with a woman in tears, but he didn't. Still, he had a strange urge to pull her to his chest, to hold her so she felt safe.

Because that was how he would keep her: safe from this world. “You'll think about it?”

“I don't see how I can.” She moved away, and it was too late to pull her close, too late to protect her as she made up her mind. “Marriage is so important. It ought to be about love. Real love. The kind that you can hold on to even when you feel like you're losing everything else.”

She didn't want him. That stung, but he ought to have expected it. Deep down, he had to admit he never thought she'd accept.

But it
was
too bad she hadn't. It would have been nice to live in a dream like this. A fine house, good boys as his stepsons, and Rayna with that smile of hers that was like the only light in a dark place.

It wasn't meant to be, I guess.
He grabbed his hat and there was nothing left to say to the woman standing in the threshold, gazing through the pink mesh screen to the acres of ruined fields.

“Your boys are lucky to have you for a mother. One who loves them so much.”

He saw himself out. His gelding was waiting for him, as if sensing how anxious he was to get the hell away from here. So he wasted no time mounting up.

The squeak of the door stopped him and made him pull the horse around. There Rayna was, coming after him. She went as far as the porch would allow.

When her good hand gripped the railing, her knuckles were white with strain.

“I'll marry you,” she said as if it were the saddest thing that had happened to her yet.

T
he week had passed quickly and Rayna was grateful her wrist was improving—slow, but sure. She pulled the pot of beans from the oven, wincing when pain streaked through her bandaged wrist, but it took two hands to balance the heavy clay pot. It took two hands to heft the roaster brimming with a quarter of beef from the rack.

Hot grease popped and sizzled on the browned roast as she eased the heavy pan to rest on a trivet.

Her left fingers felt numb and swollen. That couldn't be a good sign, and she still had a night of work ahead of her. For she intended to work. There was little money, and Daniel's finances would be stretched taking over the payments on the land and house.

The boys needed winter things, they needed furniture, they just
needed.

With a sigh she drained the kettle of potatoes. Daniel had brought the roast over with him when he'd brought Kirk by after school, waited for the boy to change into his work clothes and disappeared with him as they'd been doing all week.

Daniel hadn't said much as he handed over the wrapped meat. Only that he'd spoken to the town min
ister, who could marry them tomorrow at ten. She only nodded because she couldn't bring herself to say anything else. This stranger was to be her husband.

No, that didn't feel possible. Kol was her husband still, in her heart.

She rubbed her wedding ring as the potatoes steamed in their pot. She so loved the beautiful gold band crowned with rubies and pearls that had to have cost Kol a fortune. But he'd said on the day he'd slipped the ring on her finger that she was of more value. As he was to her.

The potatoes, Rayna.

Remembering where she was, she startled into action. Found the masher and the butter. Measured out some of the milk Daniel had brought over this morning and went to work. Pummeling the potatoes at least gave her an outlet for her emotions.

Sadder than she knew how to measure, she dumped the whipped potatoes into a serving bowl, stuck it in the warmer and went to work on the gravy.

There was a clatter out front. Hans, sitting quiet on the window seat, launched onto his feet and stomped through the house. She measured flour and stirred, scraping the droppings from the bottom of the roaster as she went. Careful to keep the flour from lumping, she listened, expecting Kirk to come through the door.

Instead there was a
thunk
as the doorknob smacked into the wall and Hans's excited shout. Muffled male voices resounded in the parlor and then suddenly there was Daniel backing through the door, shouldering something heavy.

“Tip it a little more. Are you okay, Kirk?”

“Yep,” came the energetic answer.

There was a scrape and a simple pine table appeared,
followed by Kirk holding up the other end. “Look, Ma! Mr. Lindsay said he'd give us his table.”

“It's not like ours.” Hans rubbed the flat of his hand along the wooden top. So serious.

“It's a thoughtful gesture. Thank you, Daniel.” Rayna was surprised her voice could sound so normal when that was the last thing she felt. Having a different man in this house was going to take a lot of getting used to. “Hans, run over to the linen drawer, would you, sweetie? And get a cloth for the table.”

“It's not round.” Deeply troubled by this change, Hans sidled off, watching as the table was lowered into position in front of the window.

Dusk was coming, leaching light from the sky. It felt as if it were draining from inside her, too.
This is the best decision for my boys.
She repeated that thought as Daniel and Kirk left the room and kept repeating it until the gravy was thick and fragrant in the pan.

By the time she'd poured it into a bowl and dug a ladle from the drawer, she was ready to take the cloth from Hans and spread it over the smaller square table-top.

“See? I told ya.” Hans shook his head, his hands planted on his hips, the way Kol always did when he had to give something serious thought. “It's not right.”

“No, but we'll make do.” She folded the cloth in the middle, pleating it so the circle of fabric draped all four corners and nothing was left to touch the floor or get caught up in little boy shoes. “Oh, the chairs.”

Kirk turned sideways, carrying a sturdy ladder-back chair in either hand, and slid them into place at the table. “Mr. Lindsay made these. Can you believe it?”

“It doesn't surprise me.” She ran her fingertips over
the top rung of the chair back. The pine was smooth as glass.

What skill. Daniel did seem like the kind of man who could do anything well. The furniture looked very fine indeed in her kitchen. Her woods were a little darker, but that didn't matter.

Already, look at the change he'd made.

“Ma, can I ask you something?” Kirk lowered his voice, leaning close to keep his voice from carrying. Like the young man of good character he was, he made sure his brother, who was climbing up on a chair, couldn't hear. “Are you and Mr. Lindsay gonna get married?”

Hearing the words was like a punch to her middle. It was one thing to know what was to come, but hearing it out loud made it seem real. Tangible.

Irrevocable.

“He was gracious enough to propose, as a way to help us out.”

“I figure that's up to me, Ma.” He squared his wide but still coltish shoulders. “It's my job to take care of you and Hans. I know what you said about school, but that's before Pa died. It's time for me to buck up.”

“No. You need to finish school.”

“But Mr. Lindsay's paying me to help in his fields on the way home from school! And I talked to Mr. Halloway at the station and he said—”

“The railroad? No. Absolutely not. Over my dead body will you work laying track and blasting up mountains for a train tunnel—”

“Ma. It pays a lot of money! We could stay right here, we wouldn't have to move. And you wouldn't have to work with your hurt arm scrubbing floors for some business in town—”

“I said no.” A sprained wrist or a broken one didn't matter. Keeping her sons in school and Kirk away from dangerous work was everything. “We'll discuss this after supper.”

“But, Ma—”

“You heard me.” She used her firmest voice, and Kirk hung his head, mouth compressed, as if he were muttering to himself but knew better than to say it.

He was a good boy, ready to take on adult responsibility for her and Hans, but he didn't know what backbreaking work was, fourteen-hour days swinging a pickax. And he would never know. Thanks to Daniel.

Daniel. Who would be her husband by this time tomorrow, and she couldn't begin to let that truth into her heart.

He stopped by her side, holding two chairs as if they weighed nothing, and to him they probably did.

He gathered his breath, as if figuring out what he had to say first, before he spoke. “Kirk had a lot of questions, but I didn't tell him what happened in the barn this morning. Or what we agreed to do, you and I. I'll do it if you want, but it's your call.”

She couldn't speak. Some men would have seen it as their right to act already as if they owned the place and had the right to make decisions for her. But not Daniel. He was a mighty, authoritative man, anyone could see it. It was in the way he moved, straight and noble as a soldier facing battle even in small things, setting the last chairs up to the table.

He'd make a fine husband, she was sure, for there was kindness in him.

“That roast sure smells good.” He meant to compliment her.

He couldn't know that's what Kol always did, too.
Kol had always loved her cooking too much and had had the extra inches around his belly to show for it. Struggling to keep the grief from reopening like a wound, she grabbed up the carving knife and meat fork before he could slice the roast, as Kol had always insisted.

With relief she sank the sharp blade through the steaming hank of beef and sawed one slice after another. Feeling Daniel behind her watching. He stood there for what seemed a great while before the pad of his boots told her he'd retreated to the table. His low voice was a mumble as he tried speaking with Hans, who didn't answer him.

Then came the familiar clink of plates and silverware. Kirk, she guessed, helping out. What a fine son she had in him, always responsible and helpful. After supper was over and Daniel left, she'd have to sit down and talk with her oldest. Tell him of the plans to marry and how he would not be working on the railroad north.

When she'd cut plenty of meat for the males in the house, she hefted the platter with both hands, ignoring the stab of pain in her wrist, and nearly dropped the meat. Daniel, not Kirk, was the one setting the table. The plates were down, the cups to match, and the flatware on the wrong sides of the place setting.

As he distributed the folded napkins like a poker dealer, he caught her looking at him. His smile wasn't wide and infectious, or brash and jaunty. His came slowly, quietly, with only an upturning at the corners of his mouth. It was his eyes that changed, that glowed with a brightness she'd never seen in him. A single glint in his shadowed gaze that made her stumble.

With unsteady hands she set the platter beside him on the table.

 

“Sleep tight, baby.” She kissed Hans's brow, his soft hair tickling her nose. He looked so sweet, sleepiness making his eyelids heavy.

Those long, curled lashes, which any girl would envy, framed his big blue eyes. Kol's eyes. Although she was in danger of running late, she tucked the covers under his chin, savoring this last moment with him.

“Daniel stayed for supper. I don't want him to do it again.” His bow-shaped mouth broke wide with a gigantic yawn. “I want Papa.”

“I know you do.” She brushed his head with her hand, stroking tenderly, for it was the only comfort she could offer him. “Close your eyes.”

Those lashes flickered as he struggled to stay awake.

“That's it.” Soothing, she began humming her favorite lullaby, the one her mother had always sung to her.

She waited until his eyelashes drifted shut and his breathing fell into a peaceful rhythm before she eased from his bed, careful not to disturb him.

At the doorway, she paused, making sure that he still slept. He seemed to be, so she pulled the door closed and turned the knob slowly so there would be no click.

Kirk was across the hall in his room, lamplight shining on his slate and open mathematics book. He sat with his hands folded, studiously calculating a problem.

She didn't want to disturb him, but there was no choice. “I'll be leaving for town now.”

“Oh, Ma.” Startled out of his concentration, Kirk put down the stylus and pushed away from his slate. “You can't go tonight. Your arm—”

“It's almost healed, so don't you worry. I will be fine.” She loved her oldest boy all the more for his
concern. Pride glowed inside her, brighter than any lamp, bigger than the sun. “I have many things I need to tell you, but I keep putting it off, and now there's no time.”

“I think Daniel's still here. He said he was going out to the barn. Why? Is he gonna rent the place from us or some such? Does that mean we get to stay?”

“We're staying.” She was out of time, running late, and there was no other way than to just say it baldly. “Daniel has agreed to marry me.”

Kirk recoiled as if she'd reached out and slapped him. “You just can't up and get married. What about Pa?”

She couldn't find the words to answer him. He was too young to understand what depth of love she felt for Kol, how it was still alive in her heart, just as her need for him was.

How did she explain that she could remarry as if Kol were so easy to replace? That she had to do what was best for him and Hans no matter what it cost her. Even if it was to marry in name only. To bind herself to a man she did not love. Never would love.

Never could.

But she didn't know what to say. Daniel deserved her respect and Kirk's. “You have to realize what a good opportunity Mr. Lindsay is offering us.”

“You should have let me go to work.” Anger ground in Kirk's jaw and he turned his back on her. “There's no way Pa would want some other guy to come in like he never even existed.”

“This is exactly what your father would have done, if I had died. He would have found a dependable woman to marry, so you boys would be taken care of.”

“I'm man enough to take care of this family.”

She'd broken Kirk's heart, and there was no way to
fix it. “I know you can, but I want more for you. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“When is this going to happen?”

“Tomorrow.”

Kirk said nothing. He held himself stone-still, his back to her, his bitterness like a ghost in the air.

A bitterness that wrapped around her soul and stayed there, like a bitter frost, as she hurried down the stairs, glanced at the clock—twenty-eight minutes to eight—and grabbed her warmest coat.

The night air had enough bite in it to make her eyes tear as she dashed down the stone path, slick with the start of frost. She'd have to ride bareback, she didn't have time to saddle up. A single glow of light from the cavern of the barn told her that Kirk had been right.

Daniel was still here and probably making plans to move his things into the barn tomorrow. They hadn't even discussed the most basic aspect of this arrangement. Where would he sleep? Or would he want one of the boy's rooms and Hans and Kirk would need to share?

There was a lot left to be settled between them. She wished she could tell herself it would work out, but she didn't know. Daniel was more of a stranger than a husband should be. Thinking about what tomorrow would bring… No, she couldn't do it.

One step at a time. That would be the best way to go about this. And pray she wasn't making the worst mistake possible. Not all marriages turned out well. She'd seen that sad fact with her own eyes. Every time she saw Blanche Dayton, for example. The woman's haunting sadness had made Rayna grateful for her life and her husband.