Montana Wife (Historical)

by Jillian Hart

  The splash and plod of what sounded like a double team of draft horses and the clatter of an empty wagon had her checking over her shoulder. She saw a man on the seat, his wide frame obscured by the bulk of a raincoat. His Stetson was pulled low against the rain and hid his face from her view, but she’d know those working man’s shoulders anywhere.

  Was it just her lucky day or did it have to be Daniel Lindsay coming her way? Her clothes, her face, her smell. Oh, she reeked of a cow barn. She wiped a hank of dripping hair out of her eyes and tucked it beneath the brim of her sagging hood. Lord, she was mortified that he’d recognized her and was slowing his team to a stop right beside her.

  “Ma’am.” He bobbed his head as he set the brake. “It’s a bad day to be on foot.”

  “I’m rather enjoying the rain.”

  “You could appreciate the weather from up here just as well.” He climbed down to offer her a hand up.

  She could only stare at his leather-covered palm, wide and broad, as steady and sure as Kol’s had been. It was a comfort somehow to know there were men like him in the world. “I would be obliged for a ride. I thought you were on horseback?”

  “Doin’ some hauling this afternoon.”

  “To the weigh station?” Her fingertips brushed his glove as she bounced up onto the slick wooden step, and then she was up on the seat and away from him. She slid over to make room for him.

  “I took your load of wheat, tarped it down good, what with the downpour, and then mine. I had three trips in all.” He rose up on the steps, towering over her so that her breath caught in her throat.

  Had he always been that tall? Heavens, every time she saw him he seemed to grow. Maybe men of good character did that, she reasoned as he released the brake and took charge of the thick leather straps. He looked in control, and his tone was firm and low as he murmured to the horses. The double team of giant Clydesdales lunged, jerking the wagon into motion.

  She should have been expecting the sudden movement, but she wasn’t. Her torso rocked back and then her head rolled forward and Daniel’s hand gripped her upper arm, steadying her.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” The word scraped up her windpipe. The heat from his grip was a shock.

  “Rayna, you’re like ice. Here.” He wound the reins into a twist and wedged the thickness between his knee and the dash, leaving his hands free as he struggled out of his rain slicker.

  At once she saw what he was doing. “No, Daniel, you’ll only get chilled and there’s no sense to having both of us dripping wet.”

  “Don’t you worry about me.” He draped the oiled cloth around her shoulders, his movements awkward, as if he’d never done such a thing before. But he was gallant enough to do it anyway, shaking water off the unused hood and bundling her up. “Better?”

  She could only nod. Shielded from the bite of the wind and rain, she began to shiver hard. Every inch of her being felt utterly weary. Every corner of her soul drained. Grateful for this chance to relax, she let her eyes drift shut and ignored the slide of the rainwater down her face as Daniel turned west toward home.

  Home. She knew the sound of the willows at the corner of her driveway, their vibrant leaves whispering and their supple limbs groaning. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the change of the land when Daniel guided the horses along the driveway that curved in a lazy circle toward her house.

  Peace. She felt it wash over her and breathed it in. There had always been a sense of serenity in this swell of prairie land. She opened her eyes and the beauty of the two-story farm home, with its cheerful windows and wraparound porch, struck her down deep. She had to find a way to leave this home she loved and take all the precious memories made inside that house with her. But how?

  “Do you have somewhere to go?”

  “That’s one of the reasons I was in town. To mail letters to relatives. I hope to hear back before the bank comes for the keys to the front door.” She looked up to see Daniel studying her, his brow furrowed, his jaw set.

  Unmistakable pity softened his whiskey-rough voice. Pity. How had it come to this? That people she hardly knew would look at her and feel sorry for the poor widow. Sure, he meant to be kind, but it grated on her pride and she had to fight a hot, rising wave of anger.

  “Are they good people, these relatives?”

  “I don’t know. The only one I’ve met is Kol’s brother. He’s come out on the train to visit twice. The others are on Kol’s side of the family and he’s always—” There she went again, talking in the present tense. She had to stop doing that. Her husband was no longer here and yet she ached to reach out to him. To rest against his barrel chest, the safest place in all the world—

  Hold on, Rayna. You have to do it. Kol would want her to do her best for their boys. And that thought steadied her. Made it easier to force words past the grief coiled in her chest and to sound almost normal.

  “He had always kept in touch with the relatives he was close to growing up. It’s my hope they will help me now, for the sake of our sons. Someone is bound to have an extra room we can stay in, until I find work—”

  She stopped. She couldn’t look beyond that. The future was unthinkable. There was this horrible gaping emptiness in her life to come. An emptiness she had to confront and keep going. For her boys. She would give them a good life, if she had to break her back cleaning houses and toiling in the fields to do it. Kol had wanted his sons to graduate from public school, and they would be the first in his family to be so well educated.

  Daniel murmured to the horses, reining the great animals to a gentle stop. Without the pleasant rasping and occasional squeal of the wheels and the bell-like jingle of the harnessing and the creak of the boards of the empty wagon bed, the downpour rumbled like a Mozart concerto across the expanse of the prairie. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, but she wasn’t only cold. I will miss this place.

  “Ma!”

  The front door blew open and there was Hans, his hair mussed and several strands sticking straight up at his cowlick. His little blue flannel shirt had come untucked from his denims and dark circles marred his sweet face. “Ma!”

  Mindless of the wind and wet, he tore down the front steps and she didn’t remember leaping to the ground until she was suddenly there, a little boy wrapped around her legs, holding her with all the strength in his small being.

  Love as pure as a blessing shone within her and nothing else mattered. Nothing really did. Just this child as she unwound his tenacious grip and knelt to wipe the worry lines from his brow. But they remained deep creases that had never known real anxiety.

  I will protect you, little boy. She was alone to do it, and she would. The world was a harsh place, but she was strong. And perhaps Kol would be watching over them from heaven. She wiped the wetness from his cheeks, some rain, some tears. “Guess what I have in my reticule?”

  “P-p-peppermint?”

  “You’d better look inside and see.” She handed him the small cloth bag, sadly sodden, but the candy was well wrapped inside.

  His cupid’s mouth puckered up in concentration as he plunged his hand into the depths and withdrew a red-and-white striped candy stick.

  “See?” It was a tradition that whenever she returned from town there was candy in her bag. “Now, hurry inside because you forgot your coat.”

  Ignoring her, Hans shot a hard look in Daniel’s direction and he clutched her hand so tight, her bones crunched. “You were g-gone. I waited and waited.”

  My poor baby. “I’m here now. Let’s go inside out of the rain.”

  He nodded, allowing her to nudge him along. He didn’t take his gaze off Daniel until they reached the porch steps. She turned to thank him for the ride and for his compassion, but he was already halfway around the loop of the drive, too far away to call to over the drum of the hard rain.

  Oh, well, perhaps there would come another time to thank him for his kindness, as for now she had her hands full enough. Hans’s nee
d was as loud as the rainfall, as endless as the sky. As soon as she had her little boy inside the house and out of the weather, she knelt and held him in her arms. Breathed in the sweet, little-boy scent of his hair as he held her right back.

  Her heart wrenched. Kol hadn’t meant to leave them in such dire circumstances, and she was angry, but not at him. She was furious at fate, that’s what, for snatching him away and for the world that was so often without any mercy.

  Thank goodness for people like Daniel Lindsay. While no man could have saved her wheat, he’d been a good neighbor and his intentions had given her hope. And that had lent her strength for the tasks to come. She’d start in the kitchen first—

  “Rayna, it is you.” Mariah, in a crisp apron and her long hair tied back for kitchen work, smiled at her from the archway. “It was getting so late, Katelyn and I were wondering if one of us ought to ride into town and check on you. But here you are, safe and sound.”

  Dismayed, she realized Mariah had probably come to leave off a prepared dinner. It was just the kind of thing she’d been doing since the funeral. But her neighbor Katelyn, too? “You two shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”

  “What trouble? It’s no bother to help you, dear friend. Wait until you see all we’ve been able to get done this afternoon.” Mariah’s gaze sparkled with delight, as if she were keeping a big secret.

  “What did you do?”

  “You’ll see.” Mariah spun with the snap of her apron and led the way into the kitchen.

  Rayna froze in the doorway, not trusting her eyes. She blinked, but the view remained unchanged. Elegant Katelyn at the table ladling stewed green tomatoes into prepared jars. Half a day’s work covered the counters, the last of the garden vegetables put up. Her friends had done this. For her.

  “Betsy will be along soon. She had deliveries to make and promised to swing by on her way home and lend a hand.” Katelyn’s sweet smile was sheer generosity. “Kirk is down in the cellar storing all the squash we asked him to bring in. I didn’t get a chance to mop the floor yet. Don’t look at the mud! It’s next on my list.”

  “You’ve done so much already. Too much. Oh.” Sobs ripped through her and she held them in. Hans’s hand was still tight in hers and both Mariah, who’d returned to the stove, and Katelyn, who’d gone back to filling jars, looked happy to be here. Her dear, dear friends.

  There would be no more sadness, not on the measured time they had left all together. No, there would be only this handful of days to cherish before she was gone forever.

  She guided Hans to his chair, helped him settle in and took the wrapping from him, so he could suck on his candy. Then she set her reticule aside and went to unbutton her coat. Only then did she realize she still wore Daniel’s slicker. He was out there, driving home in the rain, wet and cold because of her.

  The wind battered the west side of the house, scraping the lilac limbs against the siding. The raindrops turned icy and, as the storm deepened, the ice changed to snow. Unforgiving flakes tumbled from the sky, as if to erase every memory of summer from the world, and drove leaves from the trees.

  As if to warn her of harder times to come.

  It was a damn shame. Daniel reined in the team in the lee of the barn. On the way home he’d spotted one of the top men from the town bank riding out toward Dayton’s place. Wasn’t that interesting? It looked like the old man was bargaining for more than Kol’s fine-stepping team and fashionable buggy. No doubt Dayton was making an offer on the Ludgrin place. Quiet deals done behind closed doors.

  Shoot. Daniel should have known the property would never make it to auction. It was too damn valuable, and men like Dayton too underhanded.

  What about Rayna? She lingered in his mind like a pleasant dream. Wasn’t that a hell of a thing? He tried but couldn’t forget the image of her walking alongside the road, muddy and drenched and miserable in those fancy pinch-toed shoes of hers. Dainty and willowy and elegant. How would she fare on her own?

  It wasn’t his lookout, but he had to admit it troubled him. He’d come to respect her, that was for sure. She seemed like a good woman, and those were rare, in his opinion.

  The lead gelding snorted, drawing his attention. Jeez, what was he doing sitting in the cold? He hopped down, grabbed the O-ring and yanked loose the buckles. The yokes separated and he followed the leather straps unbuckling as he went, and swiping snow out of his eyes when he had to.

  Rayna Ludgrin. There he was, thinking of her again. He was sorry for her, sure, but he knew that losing her horses and buggy was a first step of hard losses to come. He’d been inside her house and he’d gotten eyeful enough of her life to see Kol had all but pampered her.

  She was a quality lady, sure, but what chance did she have? She’d probably been married young, by the looks of things, and gone straight from her parents’ household to her husband’s care. She couldn’t have any practical experience to make a living with.

  How would she survive? He could only wish her the best. Maybe those relations of Kol’s were decent folk and would look after her with care. And those boys…

  Daniel’s gut clenched so hard he tasted bile and the pain of memories too bleak to bear thinking on. Yeah, he hoped those relatives were good people, or those boys were fated for hard labor and misery. He knew that for a fact. It was a hell of a thing, too, because they seemed to be good children. Kirk with his mature determination and the little one, with his big, innocent blue eyes.

  Fact was, it was a hard world. No arguing with that, and he couldn’t change it. Didn’t know anyone on this earth who could. Yeah, it was too damn bad.

  What became of the Ludgrin widow and sons wasn’t any of his concern. He had his own concerns—to improve on this claim so it would be his very own, free and clear. For a backwoods orphan, he’d hoed a good row for himself. He lifted the yokes from the horses, led them into the sheltering warmth of the barn, rubbed them down and warmed mash for all four of his gentle giants.

  When they were stabled and content, he headed toward the cabin to see to his needs. Rubbed his hands together to keep them from going numb. Even with the gloves, it was cold. Snow come this early could only mean one thing. There was a hard winter ahead. Bitter and long and dark. He wasn’t ready for it, but he would be.

  What about the widow and her boys? That thought troubled him as he closed the door behind him, knelt to stir the embers and built a fire from the glowing coals.

  Hours later, when the little house was warm enough that the potbellied stove glowed red, Daniel couldn’t feel the blazing heat. He dreamed that night of his boyhood and woke in an ice-cold sweat.

  Beneath the covers, lost in shadow, he could not close his eyes. He lay wide-awake waiting for daybreak so he would not dream again.

  Chapter Seven

  Rayna looked around Betsy’s cozy dining room table at the best friends a woman could ever have. Friends who had, for the past week, helped her at every turn. Putting up the last of the garden and turning the soil, so whoever bought this place would have an acre of garden patch ready to tend and plant come spring.

  And that wasn’t all. Betsy had done her laundry and all the mending. Mariah had finished the last of the preserves, organized the pantry and helped Rayna sort through Kol’s clothing and personal items. A task that would have been impossible on her own.

  Most important of all, the emotional care they’d given her, sympathetic and encouraging. Betsy had even offered to share her laundry business, so Rayna could support her sons. It was a generous offer, but Rayna knew Betsy was barely scraping by as it was. With crop failures widespread, Betsy had lost many customers. Rayna did agree to do whatever mending Betsy’s clients needed. The income, however small, would be welcome until she knew for sure where her and the boys would be going.

  Whichever relative took them in, it would be hundreds of miles away. Maybe more. What was she going to do without her friends?

  Don’t think about that yet. Not yet. Rayna blinked hard against the hot wave
of emotion threatening to drown her. “What will I do without the two of you?”

  “Rejoice.” Mariah measured sugar into her after-lunch coffee. “We have forced our way into your house and refused to leave.”

  “Especially me,” Betsy added, dark curls bouncing as she sliced into the angel food cake she’d brought for dessert. “I haven’t seen my house in town for more than a week. Well, it feels that way.”

  “You can force your way into my house anytime.” Rayna accepted the dessert plate Betsy passed to her with an extremely generous slice of sweet fluffy cake. “Of course, you’ll have to travel by rail to wherever it is I move to, but you would be most welcome.”

  “Still no word from Kol’s relations?” Mariah’s question was light-sounding, but worry dug into her brow.

  “Not yet. I’m hopeful that the afternoon train will bring an answer.” Rayna refused to feel the endless void in the bottom of her stomach, the void filled with worry and a cold, descending anxiety. Everything—what to sell and what to pack, what to tell the boys, what to expect and when she could leave town—depended on what answer arrived in the mail.

  “We’ve all talked about this, Rayna.” Betsy set aside the cake server and even the snap and flutter of the curtains at the open windows stilled. “If the bank removes you before you have your answer from Kol’s brother, you will come live with me.”

  “I can’t impose—”

  “Nonsense. I rattle around in that big old house all by myself. There is more than enough room for you and the boys.” Betsy held up her hand to stop the argument before Rayna could make it. “What do you think we will let you do? Sleep without a roof over your head? What about Kirk and Hans? Let them go hungry?”

  “There might be room at the boardinghouse in town—”

  “Nonsense. You’ll need every penny you can keep for making a new start,” Mariah broke in, and beneath her gentle tone came something as unyielding as a Montana mountainside. “You are like family to us.”

  “Thank the heavens for you two.” There was no way she would lean too heavily on these good women, but their words touched her soul.