Montana Wife (Historical)

by Jillian Hart

  The tenderness inside him bloomed in full.

  Finally she reached the last page and nodded. “There’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

  Good. He took the ink-dipped pen Wright handed him and scratched his X on the line Rayna had pointed out to him. It was done. He handed the pen back. If he felt a little shaky over signing over his freedom to the bank, one look at Rayna calmed him.

  Her words in the church came back to him. Whatever hardship is ahead, you’re not alone with it.

  It was the first time in his life he wasn’t alone. He reached out to take her hand, and the gentle pressure of her palm to his reassured him. She was no dream. He was more awake than he’d ever been.

  He held the door for her. Walked on the street side of the boardwalk to protect her from the cold, blowing rain. Gave her his slicker to keep her dry as they drove home.

  Home. There was a word with a new meaning. He’d first thought his cabin so fine. It was all his. Four walls and a tight roof. No drafty boardinghouse rooms, where he’d lived while he’d worked in the fields, following the crops, to earn enough money to homestead. He’d been mighty grateful for the humble dwelling that was clean and safe and dry. The first place he’d called home.

  But as the lightning flashed, leading him around the last bend of the road, home took on a whole new meaning. While he was no fool, he knew Rayna didn’t love him. But they had respect and a mutual goal. That was enough in his mind. And what she’d said to him made all the difference.

  He stopped the horses as close to the porch as he could before climbing down to help Rayna out. The ring he’d placed on her finger caught his eye. No small amount of feeling filled him. He had a family.

  His wife led the way through the cool house, her gait tired as she slipped out of his slicker and handed it back to him. “You’ll need this, I imagine.”

  He took it. “I noticed the wood boxes are low. I’ll fill ’em before I go.”

  “That would be a boon. I’ve got to get baking done today. I didn’t want to stop at the bakery and pay for what I could do myself. Want me to put on a pot of coffee before you head out?”

  “That would be mighty fine,” he answered on his way to the back door.

  Politeness. It seemed a strange way for a newly married couple to act. Rayna supposed it would always be this way. For what warmth could a loveless marriage have?

  She stoked the embers in the cookstove, adding kindling and the last of the cut wood in the box, and leaving it to burn while she hurried upstairs. As she unbuttoned her dress, she heard the back door open. The clatter of wood tumbling into the box rang through the floorboards.

  Although she wore her undergarments and petticoats, she felt exposed. How was she going to face tonight, if this was how she felt in broad daylight with Daniel at the other end of the house? She tried to imagine what it would be like to have him in this room while she wore nothing but a nightgown. She hurried into a calico work dress as the door closed downstairs and she was once more alone.

  She pulled back the curtains. There he was, leading the horses to the barn. He handled them well, and the animals seemed to trust him. The big black Clydesdale rubbing his poll against Daniel’s shoulder in affection.

  She had work to do, and no time to dwell on regrets and losses. The ring on her hand felt uncomfortable, only because she wasn’t used to that band. Or maybe it was her heart refusing to accept this new man in Kol’s place. But duty was duty, and so she went downstairs to boil a fresh pot of coffee for the man who’d put his ring on her finger.

  When she went to check the fire, she was surprised to see Daniel had added enough wood so that she wouldn’t have to. The fire blazed merrily, but the heat couldn’t chase the chill from her bones.

  Careful of her wrist, she spooned coffee beans into the hand mill and ground them up fine. A knock at the back door startled her, and she was half expecting Betsy or Mariah, but it was Daniel, hefting the head-and footboards of a bedstead.

  She opened the door, since his hands were full.

  “I thought it was best to get my things moved,” he said on his way through the kitchen. “I mean to rent my cabin. Might as well. It’ll help make ends meet.”

  That answered her unspoken question. He would be sleeping here tonight. In her room. With her.

  She returned to her putting the coffee on, hardly aware of what she was doing. Her entire awareness was focused on the sounds from overhead. Daniel’s progress down the hall. The thud of the pieces of the bed being lowered to the floor. Daniel’s progress back down the stairs.

  Rayna set the pot on the stove to boil and put away the mill. She was carrying the flour canister from the pantry when he strode into the kitchen, filling it with his presence. He said nothing on his way out the door. In truth, what was there to say?

  She got to work, setting out the pans, the cooling racks, the rolling pin and batter bowls. Daniel returned, this time able to open the door himself, with a hank of rope and side rails made of rough wood.

  By the time she’d greased and floured all six pans, Daniel had returned and she poured him a cup of coffee.

  “I’ll take this with me,” he said on his way to the door. The final click seemed to echo through the warm, yeasty-smelling room, and in the empty places in her heart.

  Was this how it was to be? Endless silences and polite exchanges. Work and duty and that was all?

  She didn’t know what she expected. In truth, she hadn’t thought too much about what followed the wedding. Daniel is a fine man, you’re lucky to have him.

  Lucky, yes, but her heart just kept dying a little more.

  The knock on the back door wasn’t Daniel’s this time. She recognized that happy rap even before she spotted Betsy’s smiling face in the window and opened the door.

  “I have your laundry!” Her dear friend burst into the room like a tornado, arms full of stuffed pillowcases, which she dropped on the window seat. “You were on my afternoon schedule, but I was driving the other way at the turn in the road and I thought, it’s silly, I’ve been thinking about you and missing you. Oh! I’ve caught you in the middle of baking.”

  “If you have time to stay, the coffee’s fresh. As long as you don’t mind me mixing dough while we talk.”

  “Me? I’d take any chance I can to sit and visit with you. I’ll get my own cup, you just go about with your baking.”

  Like sunshine on this rainy day, Betsy seemed to light up the kitchen as she hung her coat on the back of a chair on her way to the pantry. “I saw a grandfather clock just like yours in Horner’s front window and I had this horrible feeling it was yours. Tell me, whose wagon is out front?”

  “You’re not going to believe what I’ve done.” Rayna leveled a cup of flour and shook it into the bowl.

  “Your wedding ring. It’s gone. It’s different.” Betsy stood slack-jawed with the china sugar dish clutched in both hands. “Rayna, what did you do?”

  “It’s best for the boys.” She took a steadying breath and set down the cup measure. “Daniel Lindsay and I were married this morning.”

  “Married? Why didn’t you tell me before this? I could have stood up with you. I could have planned a party. Does Mariah know? Of course she doesn’t, or she would have told me when I stopped by this morning. What do you think you’re doing, getting married without telling us?”

  “It’s an arrangement, that’s all. It’s so soon, I’m still walking into a room and part of me is expecting Kol to still be here. And now there’s another man in his place.”

  “Good. I can’t tell you how worried I have been for you, my dear friend. Daniel Lindsay. I can’t say I know him well at all, but my impressions of him are nice.” She rolled her eyes in womanly appreciation. “That’s his table?”

  “And his bedstead upstairs.”

  “Oh. I have a bright side to this. Believe me, I know what grief is. I know what it takes to get over a man you love. But, Rayna, you will not have to go through this very lonely period of b
eing unmarried and, well, there are certain benefits to having a husband in your bed.”

  “Betsy Louise Hunter! I can’t believe you said that!” Mortified, Rayna blushed and quickly went back to measuring cups of flour.

  “What? You always laughed and joked with me about that.”

  “I didn’t have a stranger as a husband then. Mercy, what am I going to do? There’s no way, I mean—”

  “Daniel is your rightful husband. I know it has to be a burden being married to that fine specimen of a man, but one day you’ll be comfortable enough with him to want, well, you know.” She waggled her brows suggestively. No one could be both serious and humorous quite the way that Betsy could.

  “I’m so glad you came by.” Abandoning her work, Rayna wrapped her oldest friend in a hug. “How about you? Do you have your eye on any possible candidates?”

  “For husband material? Well, there’s the blacksmith, Zeke, but I don’t know. He’s nice, but he just doesn’t make my blood warm. And since the storm, half the eligible men in town have gone bankrupt. Signed over their property to the bank or the land office and are packing up. Pickings are getting slim. Besides that, I’ve lost half my clients.”

  “You were having a hard enough time as it was.”

  “It’s going to be a long winter, but I’m determined to remain optimistic. You can never tell when good fortune is right around the corner. For both of us.” Betsy’s look was one of empathy.

  Just then the door flew open and there was Daniel, manhandling a chest currently missing the drawers. His mumbled, “’Scuse me,” was aimed in their general direction. He hauled the piece of furniture on past them and his labored gait knelled as he progressed upstairs.

  “He’s just darn handsome. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a good look at him.” Whispering as she went, Betsy closed the door against the wind-driven rain. “Those shoulders. I just love a man with wide, dependable shoulders.”

  “Betsy, stop trying to cheer me up.”

  “Honestly, look at this wonderful silver lining! Open your eyes. Gosh. Wait until I tell Mariah how bashful you’ve suddenly become!”

  “Betsy!” It was a warning, for Daniel’s steps were returning.

  “He’s that strong, silent type of man. I don’t know, but I think it’s the quiet ones that make the best lovers.”

  “Betsy!” Rayna felt her cheeks flame as Daniel lumbered through the doorway, the tips of his ears pink. If he’d heard what Betsy said, then she’d make Betsy pay.

  “You might want to go upstairs and see if that chest of drawers is where you want it.” He kept his gaze on the floor ahead of him as he went back out into the cold and rain.

  “Yep, I stand by my assessment.” Looking far too pleased with herself, Betsy poured a cup of coffee. “And don’t look so mortified. Goodness, if he did hear me, so what? I just gave him something to really think about.”

  “Daniel and I don’t need that kind of help.” Trying to stop blushing, Rayna wiped her floury hands on a dish towel. “Come upstairs with me, if you can behave yourself. I think you’re right. You’ve gone too long without a husband.”

  “It’s bad for a woman. It’s like starvation. The longer you go, the better food looks.”

  “I feel better now, you can stop trying to make me laugh.” In truth, she didn’t think she could handle any more thoughts about the night to come.

  Daniel hadn’t told her what he expected from her, and she felt more as if she were walking in the dark, just feeling her way along.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Daniel braced his feet, planted his fists on his hips and studied the drawers stacked on the barn floor. He wanted to get this furniture moved so he could bring over a load of hay and get it stacked before he ran out of daylight. He’d gotten a job in town shoveling coal at the depot.

  He should be thinking about all he had yet to do to get squared away before starting work, but that woman in Rayna’s kitchen had derailed him. He’d heard what she’d said about him. He’s that strong, silent type of man. I don’t know, but I think it’s the quiet ones that make the best lovers.

  The worst part was that Rayna hadn’t agreed. Otherwise, he might have liked being thought of as strong and silent. But it was the thought of being intimate that had made his wife scandalized.

  There’s my answer. He figured a lady like Rayna would need time. He was no fool. He knew the only reason she married him had nothing at all to do with him. She didn’t love him. Hell, she might not even like him. She would have married any decent man who had made her the same offer.

  Since there was no point in standing around debating about it, he grabbed the stacked drawers, pinching his thumb in the process, and carried them up to the house. As he started up the pathway across the back lawn, he could just make out Rayna in the bedroom window. The lustrous cloud of her hair piled up on her head. The graceful line of her profile, her perfect nose and dainty chin. The willowy way she moved.

  That’s my wife. Daniel still couldn’t believe it. As he made his way through his home, up the stairs to his woman, the tangle in his chest, which had been coiled and knotted up every time he looked at her, unraveled. Like a spool of fishing line with a fighting salmon hooked and playing out. He felt the tug on his heart like a hook sinking deep.

  A practical marriage or not, she was his wife. His family.

  This time when he came within hearing range, the women’s talk was about some ladies’ meeting in town. They fell silent as he entered the room, and he felt Rayna’s steady presence the way the earth felt sunlight.

  “Daniel, do you know Betsy Hunter?” Rayna asked as he lowered the stack of drawers to the floor.

  “Howdy.” He began sliding the drawers in place.

  “This is lovely wood.” Even though her friend was there, Rayna’s attention turned to him. She stroked the pad of her forefinger along the beveled cover of the chest. “Thank you.”

  The emotions in his chest kept on unraveling. It was her. She was making him feel this way.

  Behind her was the bedstead he’d set up in the same place her other bed had been. He’d roped up the stays and set up the mattress. The dainty quilt on top, colorfully stitched circles interlocked looked strange. He was used to the army blanket on top, not something so frilly.

  But it was something he could get used to.

  He paused at the threshold. “I’ll bring over a few more pieces tomorrow. I only use one of the drawers, so I guess that makes the rest of them yours.”

  “And I have enough things to fill them, too.”

  “Good.” With a brusque nod in Betsy’s direction, he left without another word.

  “He’s not much of a talker, is he?” Betsy said after the downstairs door rattled shut.

  “No. He’s certainly a change around here.” Rayna’s throat closed up. Why did the past feel so far away? The room was the same, the curtains and quilt the same, but she…she was different now, too.

  She ran her fingers over the pink calico wedding ring, sewn so long ago. All her dreams for her life had been stitched along with the thread. Dreams that had come true.

  She folded the quilt carefully in two. Then halved it again, until it was a small neat rectangle that she gathered up in her arms and held to her heart.

  “Oh, Rayna.” Understanding broke in Betsy’s voice. Her hand settled on Rayna’s shoulder and stayed. “I have an extra quilt at home. I could lend it to you.”

  “No, thanks. Maybe I’ll piece another quilt. I’ve been wanting to start a new one.”

  The bed looked better without the marriage quilt on it. A simple bed, made of white muslin sheets and a dark brown wool blanket. To match the plain headboard. Yes, that’s what she’d do with the long winter evenings ahead. She’d piece a new covering for this marriage bed.

  On the way down the hall, she stopped at the linen closet and hid the quilt away on the top shelf. It felt as if she were stowing what remained of her heart there, too.

  The street that
led past the feed store to the school was jammed full of wagons, buggies and surreys, and moving like molasses. Parents come to take their kids home. Cold rain splashed down by the buckets, and he shivered inside his rain slicker. He didn’t like the feel of the wind. There’d be snow by morning. He had a lot of work to do before then.

  The front doors of the two-story schoolhouse flew open. Hell, he was late. He’d spent more time at the sheriff’s office than he figured. It had been his third visit, since Dayton’s attack on Rayna, but the sheriff was new to Montana Territory and to the West. He wasn’t bothered by a distraught widow’s accusations. It didn’t seem to count that Daniel had seen him trying to hurt Rayna.

  Hell, it probably made it worse. The lawman only saw two men fighting over a beautiful widow with valuable land—and both men wanting the property and the woman. Rage licked at his soul as he took a deep breath to calm himself.

  That was why Rayna wasn’t fetching her sons from school. He didn’t want her alone by herself. When he was hitching up and pulling over the cover, Nick Gray’s wife, Mariah, had shown up with her little boy on her hip. It gave him some comfort that Rayna wasn’t alone. He’d have to teach her how to protect herself, because he couldn’t always be with her. And he suspected Dayton was plenty ticked off about missing the chance to get his hands on Rayna’s piece of land. Mine now, he thought, with no small bit of satisfaction.

  Well, it truly belonged to the bank, but he’d sit down with Rayna and have her cipher for him. They’d figure out a way to get that debt whittled down.

  “Daniel!” It was Kirk who spotted him, with his books slung over his shoulder, and leading his little brother by the hand.

  Daniel could see that the stream of children rolling out the front door and down the steps was fanning out. Those that lived in town headed off in groups, walking home. The country kids climbed into their family wagons or carts or buggies. This was the side of life he’d never known when he was school age, and didn’t really want to look at when he was grown, for it made the long span of years behind him feel desolate.