Montana Wife (Historical)

by Jillian Hart

  But that wasn’t his future. He sure liked the feel of sitting here in line, the rain tapping off his hat brim. He would have hopped down to help the little one, but Hans was already climbing up on his own. He peered up at Daniel with those huge blue eyes.

  “My Pa used to come get us.” His chin trembled and then he was gone, scrambling over the seat back and into the covered bed.

  Kirk threw their books and slates in back. The empty lunch tin rattled as it rolled to a stop. “Don’t mind him. Did you and Ma—?”

  Daniel nodded as he took up the reins, but there was no going forward or back. Too many other horses and vehicles were in the way. Little kids were everywhere, and he made sure his wheels were clear before he followed the buggy ahead of him.

  Kirk knocked water off the hood of his slicker. “I’ve been thinkin’. I know Pa left us in a lot of debt. He never could say no to Ma. Fact was, he couldn’t say no to himself. He treated her real good.”

  “Is that what you’re worried about? That I won’t?”

  “Some. She’s an awful nice ma. Some of my friends, well, they don’t have a mother like mine.”

  “I know she’s nice. You don’t have to worry.”

  He thought of the lunch she’d brought him. Noon, on the dot, there she was, as pretty as any sunrise he’d ever seen, appearing out of the rain with a lunch pail and a steaming jug of coffee.

  Inside the food tin he’d found two sandwiches thick with meat and good sourdough bread. Steaming baked beans, enough to warm him right up, and a couple cinnamon rolls, iced and topped with walnuts. The like of which he’d seen in bakery windows but had never tasted. There was no possibility that he’d ever do anything less than cherish this woman.

  It was hard to form it into words so that Kirk could understand it. So he didn’t even try. But to a man who’d known little kindness at all, who’d been useful for his blood, sweat and free labor, to have her treat him so fine…why, dedication melded hard in his soul. He was glad he’d married her. Glad he’d put up his land to secure Rayna’s future. As she honored him, he intended to honor her in return. And more.

  “Now that you’re my stepfather, I don’t figure you’ll pay me for helpin’ out in the afternoons. But I think I ought to get a job, maybe in town? To help out with taking care of everyone.”

  “You’re a good man, Kirk Ludgrin. It’s a good idea, but the truth is that I need your help, if we’re going to keep hold of both ranches. It’s too much work for one man to do alone.”

  “Then I’m your man.” Kirk straightened up a bit with his determination.

  It was a strange feeling, this tug of warmth in his chest. His stepson. He’d always wondered what that would be like, if he ever had a son of his own. It must feel something like this, this softer, purer affection. Kirk was his to protect, too. And so was the little guy tucked out of the rain in back, even if he was so quiet.

  It was like being whole, as if his life had some worth, as he turned the horses toward home.

  “My marriage began as a necessary thing,” Mariah said with assurance as she slipped on her coat in the small foyer. “For the sake of Nick’s children. But love can grow in time. True love. The real thing.”

  “That’s what I had with Kol.” Rayna scooped toddling Jeremy up before he could help himself to the fireplace poker. “I know you mean well, but there is a time for everything in this life. I had the beautiful gift of Kol’s love, and now that time is over.”

  “You need to mourn him. He’s part of your soul.”

  “Exactly.” So, Mariah knew the depth of that real love, too. “It’s a rare thing.”

  “Yes. And deserves to always be honored. But that doesn’t mean you are doomed to a life trapped in a cold marriage.” Looking troubled, Mariah stole her son and settled him on her hip. He cried out, still wanting the fireplace poker. Mariah kissed his brow and kept talking over his protests. “I don’t want that sadness for you.”

  “I’ve had my time to love. I am glad to say that I treasured every moment, and still do.” Rayna grabbed the umbrella from the stand in the corner and unwrapped it, concentrating on the task instead of the void in her soul. “Daniel is my life now. We don’t have love, but we have respect. That is a great deal more than any marriages I’ve seen.”

  “Respect isn’t love. And I worry. He’s a big man. A strong man. Betsy noticed, too, when she rushed over to tell me of your sudden wedding, that you conveniently never answered her question. You’ve done the same with me. So, I’ll ask it again and I want an honest answer. Please, my friend. How did you hurt your wrist?”

  It was the look in Mariah’s gaze, of concern, of protectiveness, that startled her. The umbrella slipped from her fingers and clattered on the floor, the sound was like cannon fire in the vacant room. “You think that Daniel did this? No, Mariah. No. I had a disagreement with old man Dayton.”

  “What kind of disagreement?”

  “The kind where he thought I was a widow with, um, needs. He never would have dared such a thing when Kol was alive. If Daniel hadn’t come when he had…” She shook as she remembered. Ice settled in her veins.

  “What about the sheriff? You did report it, right?”

  “It’s my word against a man’s. This is not a fair world.”

  “Then I’m grateful to your Daniel. If he kept you from harm, well, and because of him, you get to stay. Betsy and I didn’t know what we’d do without you. We’ve known each other since we were six.”

  She retrieved her umbrella instead of trusting her voice to answer. She’d always taken her life for granted. While she cherished her life and the people in it, she’d never stopped to realize how truly precious they were to her. Mariah’s steadfast friendship, Betsy’s sunny cheer—how they could talk about anything and often did.

  And now, when she felt as if every part of her was eroding away, no one understood like her friends.

  The season of her life was changing, but the hug Mariah gave her and the squeeze of her hand, said everything. It gave her strength to gather up the pieces of herself and to take a step forward. Then another.

  The echo of the room behind her whispered of times past. Of Kol reading by the fire, his newspaper crackling, the chair squeaking as he stood to steal a smoke on the porch. Kirk at his homework, the scratch of his stylus as he unraveled the mysteries of algebra. Hans’s railroad cars clacking on the real steel tracks. The click of her knitting needles a background rhythm to the evening.

  Like autumn, with all the leaves fallen from the trees, that’s what the room reminded her of. But spring always eventually followed, right? Perhaps, in time, she could have some manner of happiness with Daniel.

  “Keep the rag bag as long as you need to,” Mariah said on her way out the door. “Betsy said she’d drop hers by. So you can start on your new quilt.”

  “Don’t forget your rolls!” Rayna remembered at the last minute to grab the wrapped bundle on her way out the door, protecting Mariah and little Jeremy from the rain as they hopped into their covered buggy.

  Once they were snug and settled behind the rain curtains and Mariah was gathering up the reins, Rayna hurried back to the porch. She waved off her friend, while shaking the wet from the umbrella. Mariah pulled her horses to a stop for Daniel’s wagon to pass by.

  Daniel. Sitting so straight and substantial on the seat, despite the rain falling with a winter’s cold. His hat brim hid his face. Betsy was right. He was a fine-looking man. Would love grow between them in time?

  She didn’t know how it could. Maybe her life would stay like this cold, wet season, barren and grim.

  “Ma! You won’t believe it!” Kirk hollered from the front seat, hopping down before the wagon was fully halted. “I got one hundred on my exam! The best in my class.”

  “I knew you could do it.”

  She longed for the days when she could pull Kirk close, but those days were gone, too. Her baby, her first-born, was almost a man now. He walked with a wide stand, talked with a deep
er voice, but there was enough of a boy that he forgot to stomp the wetness off his shoes.

  He charged into the house shouting, “I smell cinnamon rolls!”

  Daniel held up a hand for Hans, but the boy ignored him and hopped the last step to the ground. Big eyes wary as he gazed up at the man in his father’s place.

  “Ma.” Somber, her littlest came to her side and filled his fist with her apron. “That man is still here.”

  “That’s Daniel.” Not at all sure how to begin to explain things, Rayna knelt, taking her apron ruffle from her son’s tight grip. “Did you have a good day at school?”

  “No. Can I have a cimma-non roll, too?”

  “Yes. Go on in.”

  With one backward glance at the man securing the horses, Hans took off for the front door and slammed it hard behind him.

  It was just the two of them, her and Daniel, with the cold rain falling between them. “Would you like to come in? I have plenty of cinnamon rolls.”

  “I want to get one more haystack moved before supper.” Daniel knocked the rain from his brim. “But I wouldn’t mind another of those rolls. They sure are tasty, Rayna.”

  “I’m glad you like them. Did you want me to wrap them for you?”

  “That’d be best. I’ll just drip all over your floor, and your little one isn’t too sure about me.” Daniel moseyed up the steps. He seemed to accept Hans’s reticence handily enough. “Is there anything I can do for you before I go?”

  “I’m planning dinner early tonight, if you don’t mind. If you’d rather, I can leave a plate for you in the warmer, if you don’t want to interrupt your hauling. But I need to get to town early.”

  “For?”

  “My job. Three nights a week, remember? Tonight I’m doing laundry, and I need a head start so I can finish up before dawn.”

  Daniel swept off his hat and the cool wind ruffled his hair. Maybe that could startle his brain into thinking. He couldn’t have heard her right. “You’re keeping that job?”

  “If you don’t mind. I’m as much to blame for the debts, because they’re everywhere. The feed store, the mercantile, the grocery, the butcher. Even the dress shop. I want to do my part.”

  “I’m surprised, is all. Like you said, two working together makes a load lighter.”

  “Good. Then I’ll go fetch those rolls for you.” She hurried off, closing the door, leaving him alone as hail started to fall. Hard, icy bits that felt like his old life breaking apart and falling way.

  Some of the ice inside him, too. Maybe that’s what came of living like this, caring about people. Wanting them to care about you. He liked the way Rayna looked at him when she returned a few moments later with a small pail, lid on tight to keep out the weather.

  She looked up at him, as if he was something to her. He didn’t feel the bite of the wind or the ice of the hail as he rode off, knowing she was watching.

  And feeling glad that she’d be waiting for him to return.

  “Ma.” Hans tugged once at her apron. “That man is here again.”

  “You can call him Daniel.” She checked the corn boiling in the kettle. A few more minutes. After peeking in at the potatoes roasting in their skins, she saw the stew was bubbling and fragrant. Everything was on schedule.

  She whirled toward the sideboard, looking to sidestep her son, but he was climbing onto the window seat, staring out at the cloaked figures in the barnyard. Kirk and Daniel, working fast to get the last of the hay stacked and shaped so it would shield the weather.

  “How come he’s doin’ that?”

  “So the horses have something to eat for breakfast. His horses are our horses now.”

  “No. We oughta go get our horses from town.”

  “Can’t do that, baby.” She gathered flatware from the drawer. “Daniel is going to stay with us and share his horses with us. Like the table.”

  “No.” Hans said nothing more, his little shoulders tensed tight, his hands white-knuckled fists on the sill.

  She didn’t push him. Lord knew he’d been through enough already. He would understand in time. Perhaps when he was ready. She set the table, popped a fresh pan of rolls into the warmer to heat, and poured fresh milk into the glasses. She’d never felt so grateful for the necessities in her life. Milk for her sons. A table to eat at. This kitchen full of sweet memories.

  She had supper on the table when Kirk came to the door. He said to dish up a plate for Daniel and leave it. After she did so, they all sat down to eat. The space at his table—the same spot where Kol sat—remained empty.

  Daniel was a hardworking man, the hardest worker she’d ever seen. Hours later, while she soaped sheet after sheet on a worn washboard in the lonely corner of the boardinghouse kitchen, she would bet that Daniel had brought over a third haystack after he’d driven her to work. He was probably in the damp night air, fog shrouding him as he pitched forkload after forkload of hay.

  As the hours passed, she wondered if he was asleep yet in the modest upstairs bed. Sleeping beneath the old spare blanket she’d used as a cover. She didn’t know how to ask him if he planned to ask more of her than to sleep.

  She still didn’t know hours later when the sheets were clipped up to dry in the boiler room and she’d mopped up the wash tubs, stored them and scrubbed the floor where she’d worked. That he was on time didn’t surprise her. She knew he was out there in the fog before he came into sight abruptly, the mist breaking apart.

  A day’s growth blackened his jaw and his hair was tousled, what she could see of it beneath his hat brim. He said nothing on the eerie drive home, the fog as thick as the stew she’d prepared for supper. The prairie slept, obscured by fog and dark. Not even an owl hooted. She noticed the rifle against the seat, held in place by Daniel’s knee, but didn’t ask about it.

  He let her off by the back gate. The walk to the kitchen wasn’t far, although she was freezing by the time she arrived. Cold from the inside out. Heat welcomed her. Daniel had made the fire before he’d left. He was a thoughtful man. She held her hands out, letting them warm. Did she wait for him? Or would it be better to go up and be first in bed?

  The door was opening, stopping her debate, and there was Daniel, shrugging out of his overcoat. He wore his long johns, the dark gray fabric clinging to him everywhere. She could not look away. He was mesmerizing. The hard planes of his chest and abdomen, the lean strength of his long legs and in between, a sizable bulge that hinted he was no small man in any sense of the word.

  Betsy’s prediction haunted her and she looked away blushing. He’s that strong, silent type of man. It’s the quiet ones that make the best lovers. It was wrong to even think of another man in that way. Or was it? The man stalking toward her was her husband. The brush of his hand against her cheek, pushing the hair from her eyes, was rough and awkward and tender all at the same time. It was the tenderness in his touch that made the void in her chest, where her heart used to be, bleed.

  She could take anything but Daniel’s tenderness.

  “You’re tired, pretty lady.” Affection, naked and honest, made his baritone rough. “Come, let me put you to bed.”

  “To sleep?”

  If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Stoic, as yielding as granite, he led her upstairs, his hand at her elbow, and opened the door to her room. Their room.

  He stopped at the doorway. “Sleep well. I’ll get the boys ready for school if you need to sleep late.”

  “That’s my responsibility.”

  “You look as though you haven’t slept much at all since the funeral. Sleep. I’m here. You’re not alone.” His kiss to her brow was chaste. Gentlemanly.

  Why, then, did her pulse thud wildly in her ears? Why did she long to lean against his chest? His words had touched her, found her weakest spot. She was alone. She would always be desperately alone. This was not a marriage. It was an arrangement. And it could never be much more.

  Love happened in time, Mariah said, but Rayna didn’t believe it. Her time for
that had passed, turning like a season from the bright summer to the cold shroud of fall, a season of despair.

  She sat at the window a long while, watching the last of the leaves fall before climbing into her bed. Sleep did not come.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Ma. That man’s here.” Hans hopped down from the window seat. “It’s been days and days and he’s still here.”

  “I know. Remember I told you? Daniel is going to be staying with us from now on.”

  “No he isn’t.”

  Rayna covered the warm muffins with a cloth and set the basket on the breakfast table and considered her son. He’d woken before dawn from terrible nightmares each night since the wedding. She could hear his voice in memory calling out in fear for her and for his papa.

  Wishing she could take the pain from him, she knelt to draw him into her arms. Exhausted and heartbroken, he pushed away to stare hard at the back door.

  He needed to handle his father’s loss in his own way. She felt so helpless. She didn’t know how to help him.

  In the meanwhile, the eggs were sizzling, the sausage patties needed turning, and the coffee was ready to burn. She turned to the immediate needs of preparing their morning meal. Cooking breakfast was something she could take care of without a problem. But Hans…she was too exhausted to see any easy explanation.

  Boots rang on the porch and snow blew in with Daniel. He handed over the pail of fresh milk and she set it aside, to be strained later. The meal was ready. She poured Daniel a cup of coffee first, for he looked as if he’d gotten little sleep, too. Snowflakes clung to his dark hair as he folded his big frame into the chair by the fire.

  “That’s just what I need. Thank you, Rayna.”

  “You’re welcome.” The sausages were getting a little too brown—she snatched up her spatula and rescued them from the popping grease.

  “That’s where my papa sits.” Hans’s voice, low with anger.

  Rayna moved, but not fast enough. The little boy had launched toward Daniel’s chest and was hitting him with all the fury of his little fists. “Get out! Out. I want my papa!”