Montana Wife (Historical)

by Jillian Hart

  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 minister, 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.

  It’s just the worries that came hand in hand with a hasty marriage. That’s all. The moment Daniel came into sight, from where he’d been busy in the tack room, she could plainly see the man he was. The man who’d bandaged her hands when her palms were nothing but open blisters. The man who’d pulled his revolver and protected her. The man who’d given her his table so her sons would have a comfortable place to eat.

  “Are you heading off to work?”

  “I’m going to be late as it is.” It was the only apology she could offer him. He may be taking over her property, but she had her own responsibilities. “I don’t have any time to hear you tell me not to go.”

  “Then I won’t.” He held out his hand, his palm up. “Come. I have my wagon hitched to take you to town.”

  “I’m going to ride on my own.”

  “No. Not with how Dayton treated you today. He won’t be the only one. I’m not your husband yet. I can’t tell you what to do. But, Rayna, I don’t ever want anyone to hurt you. I’d like to make sure of it, starting now.”

  Kindness. It wasn’t what she was expecting. She laid her hand on his. His touch was firm, almost fierce. He was not what she was used to. Nor was his silence as he helped her into his wagon and followed her up.

  He didn’t seem to be a man of many words. That would be a change in her life, for Kol was one to talk and talk and talk. As the horses gained speed on the road to town, Daniel’s silence remained. There were so many things she had to say to him, but beneath a starless sky, she lost her courage.

  It didn’t really matter whether he would sleep in the barn or the house. If he was the kind of man who believed he would make all the decisions and handle all the money.

  Or, as he’d said in the barn, the type of husband who would tell her what to do.

  Daniel was kind and he was honest and he was hardworking. She didn’t believe she could find a better solution for her boys or a greater man to watch over them.

  As twilight gave way to the endless shadows of night, the world seemed capable of such cruelty, or, more accurately, the men in this world. What if Daniel was right? What if Dayton wasn’t the only one of her neighbors who thought she was a widow in need of “comforting”?

  She felt safe beside Daniel on the seat. His words came back to her, in regards to his proposal. It’s an arrangement, that’s all. It wasn’t as if it would be a real marriage. It wasn’t as if Daniel Lindsay could ever replace Kol. Not in any of the ways that mattered.

  Daniel halted his team in front of Thora’s boardinghouse. The gentleman he was, he climbed out first and helped her down with one easy lift, as if she hadn’t weighed more than the chairs he’d brought into her kitchen.

  “What time will you be through?”

  “Around three this morning, Thora said.”


  “I’ll be waiting right here.” His single nod emphasized his promise. “You take care with that wrist.”

  “I will.”

  “I don’t know how to say this, so here it goes.” He swept off his hat, looking oddly vulnerable in the darkest of the night’s shadows. “It’s not an easy thing, risking my hard-earned land. But just so you know. I think you’re worth it. That if I can keep you and your sons from the kind of hardship I’ve known, then I guess that makes my life mean something.”

  She watched him go, in her view, taller than ever. Watched as he gathered the reins and clucked to his horses. Waited until the straight shadow of him on the wagon seat disappeared into the night and distance.

  Only then did her heart start beating again.

  When Daniel pulled up to the Ludgrin house, he saw only one light on. He figured it must be the older boy. He’d been left in charge, no doubt, while Rayna worked in town. It was getting late, past ten, for a school night. Maybe Kirk stayed up past this hour all the time. What did Daniel know about this sort of white-picket-fence life?

  Work. That’s what he knew. And that’s what had kept him busy and there was more ahead of him before he would lie down to sleep.

  The heavy wagon groaned as it bounced and jostled down the rutted lane to the barn. Daniel’s skin itched. He glanced around, wondering who was watching him. The light from the second-story window remained unchanged, and the curtain covering the glass still. It could be Kirk, but Daniel doubted it.

  Either way, he made sure his Colt was ready to draw.

  The barn seemed filled with loneliness. A gray striped cat came to study him with eyes that flashed in the dark. Daniel said howdy to the creature and began unloading the wagon bed. It was too late to bring over the cow, already bedded down for the night. Or to move the feed and stacks of hay. That could be done when the more pressing work was finished.

  It was with contentment he took his time putting up the saddles and the extra yokes and harnesses. It sure was a nice setup in the tack room. Easy to use, easy to store, a big open place for him to clean and repair the rigging come winter.