Temporary Bride: Dakota Brides

by Ford, Linda;

  Lena filled the coffeepot and put it to boil as Charlie wrapped his arms around her legs and whined.

  “I know you’re hungry, little one, but you must be patient while I prepare your food.” She plunked him on his bottom and grabbed a lid and spoon. “Here, you play with these so I can work.” She banged them together.

  Charlie gave a tummy-shaking laugh as he reached for the lid and spoon and banged them with ear-shattering satisfaction. But as soon as Lena turned back to the stove, he threw them aside, scrambled to his feet, and followed her, whimpering as he pushed at her legs.

  Lena sighed. “Charlie, you must be good so I can work.”

  Anker thought to suggest he would prepare the meal while she cared for Charlie, but he knew she would insist she must do her share. Always so reluctant to accept anything from another’s hands. Best thing he could do was amuse Charlie. He reached for the boy just as Lena bent to deal with him. They both wrapped their hands around Charlie at the same time and both jerked back as if the boy’s shirt had stung them.

  They stared at each other. Anker wondered if his face showed as much surprise and disquiet as hers did. For certain, he didn’t quite know what direction he should move without bumping into her either physically or mentally.

  “I will keep him out of your way while you cook.”

  She hesitated, as if wondering if she should accept his offer, but Charlie, not having attention from either of them and growing hungrier by the minute, clutched at her skirts.

  Lena couldn’t work with Charlie fussing at her feet, so she nodded. “It might be a good idea if any of us is to eat.”

  Before Charlie could protest, Anker scooped him off the floor and tossed him in the air. “Come on, little man, we’ll get out of the road.”

  Charlie giggled in a way that made his tummy bounce, and Anker laugh.

  “You are a funny little man. What would you like to do? Go for a horsey ride?”

  “Horsey, horsey,” Charlie agreed. Anker sat down, crossed his legs, and balanced the boy on one ankle to swing him up and down. Anker made neighing sounds. Charlie sputtered as he tried to imitate the sounds.

  Anker laughed again. He glanced at Lena, who watched as she fried pork. Her eyes filled with a warning darkness, as if reminding Anker not to get too fond of Charlie or encourage Charlie to get too fond of him. He wanted to explain he and Charlie had long passed that point—about the first time he’d seen Johnson carrying the boy on his shoulders as he and Anker looked over the Stevenses’ newborn calf while Johnson talked about their future.

  Charlie had been less interested in the calf then in examining Anker. He’d leaned over from his perch on his father’s shoulders and demanded Anker take him. Once in Anker’s arms, he had babbled away intently as if relaying a long, complicated story.

  Johnson had laughed. “My son is a good judge of character.”

  Charlie and Anker had been best friends from that moment. Didn’t seem Lena was as ready as Johnson to accept Anker based on Charlie’s say-so.

  Anker pulled his gaze from Lena’s and turned back to the boy. Despite her silent protests, and not so silent ones in the past, Anker intended to be part of this little man’s life. Unless and until Lena married again.

  He stopped swinging his leg and glanced sideways at Lena. She had married again. Him. They weren’t living as man and wife and right now were finding it awkward to live as friends and yet, legally, he was this boy’s father. He found the idea pleasing, and laughed, grateful Lena would mistake his joy as amusement at Charlie’s giggles.

  He made a quick decision. For the few months Lena and Charlie were here, he, Anker Hansen, intended to enjoy the pleasures of a child in his house.

  Lena served up the food.

  Anker talked as he set Charlie on his chair. “In the old country, our house always had babies in it.”

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” She sounded both interested and surprised.

  “I have only two sisters. Signe is three years older than me. I guess that makes her twenty-eight now. She is married with two little ones. My younger sister, Freyda, is twenty-one. She is still in Norway. Her husband came west. He’s built a house for her. She’ll come in the spring. “

  “You said there were babies.”

  He reached for her hand and took Charlie’s and prayed for the meal before he answered her. “I have sixteen cousins and equally as many second cousins. The children run in and out of the uncles’ and aunts’ houses as welcome in any home. Mor—Mother—seemed to always be tending one baby or another.”

  Lena’s hands rested on either side of her plate as she stared at him, her eyes wide. She looked shocked, as though someone had dropped through the roof and landed in the middle of the table. “You have a very large family.” She sounded as if the air had been sucked from her. “I can’t imagine what it would be like.”

  He chuckled. “Crowded, loud, and happy.”

  She blinked, and lost the startled look. “You liked it?”

  He might have objected to her question if she’d sounded anything but curious and perhaps just a shade envious. “I loved living in a big family. I miss them. But it was getting crowded.”

  “And now you are all alone.”

  Anker let his grin start slowly. He let it spread until his ears felt the tip of his smile. “But I am not alone now. I have you and Charlie.”

  She ducked her head, but not before he caught a glimpse of something he wasn’t sure he could name, but it had been very much like regret. “Only until spring.” Again, her constant reminder.

  He shrugged. “That’s all winter.”

  She gave him a hard look. “I won’t change my mind.”

  The air between them grew still as they considered each other. He finally shattered the silence. “I’m not asking you to change your mind. Only saying I plan to enjoy having company this winter. You should do the same.”

  She held his gaze another moment, then nodded. “I’ve never had family apart from Johnson and Charlie.”

  “Your parents?”

  She shrugged. “I vaguely remember my mother. I haven’t seen nor heard from my father in seven years. I can only assume he is dead.”

  Anker knew she was twenty. That meant— “You have been alone since you were thirteen?”

  “Alone might have been easier. But no, I was in the home of Mrs. Miller.”

  He tried to understand what she meant. “She became your family?”

  “No. I became her slave.”

  “Slave? I don’t understand.”

  “My father left me with her when I was nine. Mrs. Miller offered to give young girls a home in exchange for a fee. She would make sure they got their schooling and were taught to be household servants. She often found them positions with esteemed families when they were ready to move on.”

  “Sounds like a fine arrangement.”

  She grimaced. “So long as the fee was paid. When my father no longer paid for my keep, Mrs. Miller put an end to my schooling and my training as a household servant. I was told often that I owed her, so I had to do all the things a fine lady servant wouldn’t do.”

  The way she shuddered and the dark shadows that filled her eyes made Anker clench his fists. “How long did this go on?”

  “Four years. Until I left with Johnson.”

  Many things became clear as he contemplated her story. “So that is why you won’t accept help from people. You are afraid if you owe them they will make you...how do you say it? A slave?”

  “I will never let anyone have that sort of hold on me again.”

  “Some people give without thinking of how to make you pay back.”

  “Everyone expects something in return. Even you.”

  He shook his head. “I only want to help.” Why couldn’t she accept that? Why wasn’t it enough?

  “And in return, you expect company to pass the lonely winter months.” She held up her hand. “I don’t mind that. But I fear...” She swallowed lou
dly, and her eyes grew hard as lumps of coal. “With every day, I will owe you more and my owing will force me to make decisions against my better judgment.”

  He pushed his chair back as denial scalded his insides. But what was the use in explaining again? He dug deep for English to express his feelings. “Despite your reluctance to believe me, I am helping you because of a promise to your man, Johnson, to make sure you and Charlie are safe. I never make a promise without keeping it, and I will keep this one. Believe what you want.” He jolted to his feet. “Thank you for breakfast.” The idea of owing crowded his thoughts. “Do I owe you for preparing it or do you owe for sleeping in my bed? Where does owing begin and end? I think it is better to tend to our tasks and not think of owing and paying.”

  He headed for the door and donned his heavy outerwear. “I have work to do in the barn. I will not return until dinner time.”

  “I will have it ready and waiting.”

  He’d hoped for some softening, but her tone informed him she would do her duty in order to avoid owing.

  He did his chores and set up a workbench in the warmest corner of the barn.

  He cut wood into the sizes he wanted, glad of a reason to avoid returning to the house. Perhaps he should construct a small barrel stove to keep him warm. But for now, he welcomed the way his fingertips burned at the touch of metal when he sawed off pieces of wood. He needed the distraction, the time to sort through his feelings.

  The idea of duty and owing troubled him like a dog nipping at his heels.

  He intended to do his duty. Had not God said a man should not promise and then not do? And did not God honor a man who fulfilled his word? But Lena did things to avoid owing. How could one way seem so right and the other so wrong? Were they not both serving the same God? How did God look at the differing reasons for acting?

  He returned to the house at noon for a quick bowl of thick creamy soup full of bits of vegetables. Lena had again baked biscuits light as soft snowflakes. “You’re a good cook.”

  “Mrs. Miller saw to that.”

  Why was it that every conversation seemed to angle toward Lena’s reason for resisting help and for doing her fair share?

  “I’ll be sure and thank her if I ever see her.” He didn’t often stoop to sarcasm, but Lena’s stubborn attitude pushed against his nerves like a cat being stroked the wrong way.

  He returned to the barn, intent on finishing the toys he had started for Charlie. The work soothed him and as he worked, he prayed—for wisdom in living with Lena, for healing for her pain. The woman had lost so much in such a short time. And her loss had begun long before she’d moved to Dakota Territory. She’d lost her mother, her father, been forced to work like a...he hated to use the same word she did and found another...like a drudge. Most of all, he prayed for patience and endurance to fulfill his duty. And yes, he wanted her to see it as enough.

  He hoped Charlie would enjoy the toys. As he polished the last piece of work, he heard a roar. He listened. The wind. When had it come up? He shrugged. The wind always blew in this country. Guess after a while a man got so he never noticed. He finished the toy, stuffed the pieces in his pocket, and headed for the door. He cracked it open and stared into a white wall. Not only had the wind increased to a howl, it carried on its wings a blinding storm.

  * * *

  Lena stared at the frosted-white window. “Where is that man?”

  “Man?” Charlie echoed.

  “Yes, he should have come back hours ago. Doesn’t he hear the wind?” Or—horror sucked her insides empty—had he headed for the house and gotten lost in the storm?

  She could blame no one but herself if things went wrong. She should have been more polite, more grateful for his offer of a home. So far, he’d made no demands due their status of husband and wife—though they’d shared only two nights yet. Who knew how things might shift in a few weeks, or after several months of sharing the same house? She was only too aware of how a benefactor’s attitude could suddenly change, given the right provocation.

  “Where is that man?” she murmured again, still staring at the window. She could think of only one thing to do. She set the lit lamp before the window and prayed it would show Anker the way home.

  She lost track of how long she stared at the snow-crusted glass. All her pulses thundered like drumbeats. She forced her wooden lungs to expand.

  A thump against the door jerked at her nerves and she stared. Was it Anker? An animal seeking shelter? Something—or someone else? Whoever—whatever it was—she had to know and she ran to the door. Charlie followed her. “Charlie, stay back. You’ll freeze. Go wait by the kitchen.”

  Charlie must have understood the urgency in her voice because he went without arguing.

  Only then did she throw back the door and stare at the bulky, snow-covered figure before her.

  “It’s cold out here.”

  Only his voice assured her Anker stood on the step and not some white-clad stranger. Snow clung to every bit of his clothing and icicles hung from his nose and eyebrows.

  She grabbed him and dragged him into the room. The way he moved, all stiff and slow, she knew the cold had already eaten at his inner core. “Get these things off before the snow melts and soaks you through.”

  His movements were so sluggish and clumsy, she unbuttoned his coat for him and eased his arms out. She hung the snow-heavy garment on a peg, pulled his hat off and hung it next to the coat, then led him to the chair by the stove. “Sit and get warm.” When he dropped to the seat with a groan she pulled his overshoes off and tossed them to the corner.

  She dashed to the bedroom and grabbed a woolen blanket that she wrapped around his shoulders. She tucked it around him then turned to his feet. She touched them. “Can you feel them?”

  “They hurt.”

  “That’s a good thing. At least they aren’t frozen.”

  She rubbed them briskly, feeling him stiffen with pain. But it was necessary to restore the circulation as quickly as possible. The alternative—dead flesh—didn’t bear thinking about.

  As soon as she was satisfied she’d done all she could, she hurried to the kitchen. “I’ll get coffee. That’ll warm up your insides.”

  Not until she reached the sanctuary of the kitchen did she pause to lean her head against the cupboard. If something had happened to Anker—

  Such a strange brew of emotions flooded through her that it actually hurt somewhere deep in her chest. She pushed back the unfamiliar feelings, poured coffee into a brown mug, and carried it to him.

  “Thanks.” He sipped it greedily.

  “I thought you must have gotten lost.”

  “Almost did. Somehow the wind pushed me off course. I knew I had missed the house. I turned around, but I couldn’t find any landmark to give me my bearings. Then I saw the light. Only a faint golden spot that disappeared at times when the wind shifted a new bunch of snow across my path.”

  Her throat closed off as she realized how easily he could have been lost.

  He touched her hand. “You probably saved my life.”

  She shuddered. “When I think of the tales of people frozen to death only a few feet from their homes....”

  “I’m safe. We’re all safe. God be praised. I should have paid closer heed to the weather, but I was busy.” He looked at Charlie still huddled to the doorframe, his eyes wide with concern. “Don’t look so worried, little man. Everyone is fine, thanks to your smart mama.”

  Lena tried not to let his words give her uncalled-for pleasure. “I only did what any prairie person would do.”

  Anker held out his hands to Charlie, and the little boy raced across to let Anker lift him to his lap. “That’s a boy.”

  Charlie touched Anker’s chin. “Man. Hello, man.”

  Anker chuckled. “Hello to you too, little man.”

  “Big man.”

  Lena watched the two and smiled. God had answered her prayer to take care of Anker. Her world was safe for now. She resisted the temptation to w
orry about the future.

  “I have something in my coat for this little man.”

  Lena jumped to her feet before Anker could put Charlie down. “I’ll get it.” She shook the dripping coat to get rid of the water and carried it to him.

  He dug in the pocket and pulled out a stack of blocks. “For you, young man.”

  Lena laughed as her son tried to balance them all in his arms. One slipped out under his left elbow. As he tried to capture it, one fell from under his chin.

  Anker chuckled. He smiled at Lena.

  For a moment she allowed herself a burst of shared pleasure, then she pulled her thoughts back and returned the coat to the peg. She’d drape it over a chair next to the stove before they went to bed so it would dry overnight. She’d make something special for supper. It was the least she could do to show her appreciation that Anker had returned safely.

  Anker put Charlie on the floor and handed him the blocks one by one. Of various sizes, they had been smoothed until there was no danger of slivers.

  He glanced up as Lena returned to sit by the stove and he grinned. “I thought Charlie might like a toy.” Their glances held for several heartbeats.

  Lena’s world tipped slightly and she sat back hard in her chair.

  Anker gave a slight nod as if acknowledging something she had said though she’d spoken not a word, then he bent over Charlie and piled the blocks into a stack.

  Charlie knocked the tower over, laughing as they tumbled down and Anker chuckled.

  Lena watched them playing together. Anker with his blond hair so close to Charlie, whose hair was so black it filled with shadows. Never once had she seen anything that hinted Anker saw her small son as marked by his heritage. Yet she had to still her desire to grab Charlie, hold him close and protect him.

  Anker seemed to know how to interact with her son in a special way, probably from his practice of having so many cousins and relatives.

  What would it be like to have so much family? Probably it meant not owing anyone, because didn’t family mean sharing everything? Hadn’t he said the aunts’ and uncles’ homes were open to all the cousins? She couldn’t imagine that kind of welcome and freedom.