High Country Bride

by Jillian Hart

  “Aiden!” someone called out. Footfalls padded behind him.

  The minister. Aiden came to a halt, noting the man’s urgency. Oh, this was about Finn. “My brother missed church, unless he came and I didn’t see him.”

  “No, Aiden. I didn’t see him, either.” Pastor Hadly seemed very grave. Concern was etched into his grandfatherly face, but it was his eyes, full of sadness, that startled Aiden.

  “You know something about my brother.” He hated saying those words. Once, he had been protective of his littlest brother, and defensive, insisting that Finn would grow out of his rebelliousness. That the boy was simply spirited.

  But manhood had not mellowed Finn or put sense in his head. Not even the second chance Aiden was giving the boy. Finn was going to find himself back in the territorial prison if he didn’t smarten up. Aiden braced himself for whatever hard news the minister had brought. “Do you know where Finn is?”

  “No, I don’t. This is about you, Aiden.”

  “Me?” Not again. Now and then the kindly minister felt he had to offer help. Some folks saw Aiden’s self-imposed isolation as grief. No, grief had come and gone. It was what was left in its wake that was the problem, and what could be the solution for that? Aiden turned away. There was Joanna, holding the bucket for Dale. Dependable, that’s what she was. A reasonable, sensible woman who knew what mattered. “Now’s not the time, Pastor. Sorry.”

  “There is a season for everything, Aiden. Come stand in the shade and speak with me.”

  “Finn is heading down a path that will lead him straight to trouble, and I can’t stop him. I can only pray that you can.”

  “I’ll speak to Finn, don’t you fear.” Pastor Hadly took refuge from the blazing sun in the shade of the trees, and his expression grew grave. “What is this I hear of a woman living with you?”

  “With me?” That was like a slap on his face. He recoiled and shook his head. Was that what people were thinking? And didn’t they have anything better to do than talk? “No, I assure you that is not true. Joanna Nelson had no place to go. She was living in her wagon in my back fields, so I offered her the shanty.”

  “But the shanty is on your land. Rather close to your house, as I remember it.”

  “A couple acres away, I guess. Far enough to make us neighbors not sharing the same house. This is what you want to talk to me about?” Anger beat at him. He wasn’t mad at Hadly; the man was just doing what he saw as his duty. “Joanna is a widow with two small children. I’m not the sort of man who takes advantage of that.”

  “Easy, now. I’m only saying the look of it isn’t right.”

  “I don’t care about the look of things.”

  “Aiden, I’m telling you this for your own good. Maybe there is no need for concern yet, but temptation being what it is—”

  “Perhaps for some people, but not for me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, turning to watch Joanna replace the bucket in the watering trough up the road. He tamped down his anger, knowing the minister had a fatherly concern for him. Always had. “You of all people should know how strong my faith is, Mel.”

  “I do. Kate’s death and your son’s loss strengthened your faith. There aren’t many who can say that.”

  Heat built in his chest, but it was no longer anger. Aiden drew in air to try to chase it away, but it remained hard and hot like a fist. He turned his back to the minister, fighting for control of emotions best left unfelt. Joanna had climbed up into the wagon box, tender with her children, who were talking rapidly and vying for her affection.

  She really was a beautiful woman. Maybe more beautiful for the love he saw on her face as she gazed at her little ones.

  The pieces inside him felt raw-edged and throbbed like a broken bone unable to heal. Yes, he had to believe that this was all part of God’s plan. That he’d done right in having Joanna stay. That this wasn’t the start of one big mistake. He’d had enough heartache in his life. He wasn’t looking for more.

  “If anyone questions my integrity, Pastor, then you point ’em to me.” Aiden meant it; his soul resonated with the words. “The day that helping a fellow Christian down on her luck is wrong because of how it looks to some people, well, that is a sad day for heaven.”

  “Aiden, I have Joanna’s concern at heart, too—”

  “Sure. I know.” He was already walking away, wondering how many people knew she’d been living with her children out of the back of her wagon. Wondering how many of those who knew had not offered help of any kind, not a handout, not a meal, not a job, not even kindness.

  He was halfway to the wagon before he realized he’d stalked away from his minister, who was a good man. Suddenly, there was Joanna, her laughter, light and sweet, falling around him like dappled sunshine. A hot breeze puffed through the trees, and he’d never seen a sky as blue.

  “It was tempting to leave you behind,” she told him as he hiked himself up onto the high seat. “But I’ve developed a surprising respect for you, so I didn’t want to make you walk all the way to dinner in this heat.”

  As if she would have stolen his horses. He smiled, really smiled. “That was mighty kind of you, considering I don’t believe you one whit.”

  “Yes, but it made you smile. You looked unhappy, Aiden. I just thought…” She shrugged a slim shoulder, looking like pure goodness itself with the sun kissing her and the breeze tangling the delicate tendrils of her perfectly gold hair.

  He did not know what it was about her, but he felt more like himself than he had in a long while.

  He unknotted the reins and released the brake. The horses plodded to life, drawing them past the church, where Pastor Hadly stood, watching with grave eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  Noelle’s kitchen was bright and sunny. The windows and doors were open to the breeze off the falls and displayed a view of the wild mustang herd in the far pasture. It was the perfect place to whip together the ingredients for a pie. Even more perfect to get better acquainted with Aiden’s ma and sister-in-law.

  “My mother’s rule,” Joanna explained as she brushed milk over the top crust. “I’ve never tasted a better strawberry pie. I always sprinkle sugar and cinnamon on it, too. You wouldn’t happen to have fresh cream in the cellar, would you?”

  Noelle, seated at the table, smiled. Her fingers were busy crocheting a delicate lace tablecloth. She was a beautiful lady with bright green eyes and a cheerful manner. “I’m sure we do. You have my mouth watering, Joanna, and the pie isn’t even in the oven. Which reminds me, Ida, what about the roast?”

  “We have a few more minutes to go, but it smells done, doesn’t it?” Ida wandered over to peek in the oven. “It’s nearly there. I think the men are hungry. Look at them, Joanna.”

  Joanna finished sprinkling the cinnamon and set the pie on the counter, ready to go in when the roast came out. The window framed Aiden and Thad as they talked together, standing side by side, hats shading their faces, their wide shoulders braced. You could tell they were brothers. Aiden was slightly taller, brawnier and more mature looking. But they shared the same posture, the same rugged, strong jaw and chiseled cheekbones. “They keep looking at the kitchen door, waiting to be called in.”

  “Talking about horses, no doubt.” Noelle’s needle paused as she stopped to count the tiny stitches with her sensitive fingers. “And trying to avoid talking about Finn.”

  “They are men, and that’s what men tend to do.” Fondness warmed Ida’s voice. There was no mistaking her motherly love as she gazed on her two oldest sons. “They don’t talk much about what matters, but that doesn’t mean they can’t feel it. Finn has a powerful temper on him. He was a good little boy, always polite and quiet. He never got over his pa’s death.”

  Joanna found herself listening harder. Her hands stilled as she tidied up the workplace at the table. How had his father’s death affected Aiden? she wondered, but hesitated to ask.

  “That was a hard time for us,” Ida said as she checked one of the pots boiling on
the stove. “We were mortgaged up to our chins. There were even loans on the horses. We had five poor years of crops, followed by a complete drought one summer. We didn’t have a single crop that year. My, that hurt. We were lucky to keep the garden alive and producing, and it was sparse at best.”

  “My last year on our farm, my husband’s land,” Joanna explained, “was like that. In Dakota Territory. It was a struggle just to scrape enough off the land to survive the winter.”

  “Then you know how it was for us.” Ida set the pot lid into place. “Noelle, you were a schoolgirl at the time, living in town. I’m sure the weather brought no trouble to your family, and I’m grateful for that. But my man took off that autumn. Finn was too young to know. Thad only thirteen. Aiden was a big, strapping young man. I had hopes of him finishing up and graduating from the school in town. I wanted him to have a real fine education. He had the mind for it.”

  “I can see that,” Joanna found herself saying.

  “It was a sadness that he had to find a job instead. He has been working winters at that mill up north since he was sixteen, and growing wheat the rest of the year.”

  “He has a winter job, too?”

  “Yes, dear. Didn’t you know?”

  She shook her head, her mind spinning. She could see clearly how Aiden had stepped up to take on the burden of his family. It did not surprise her. As she piled the measuring spoons and cups, the wooden spoon and knife into the mixing bowl for washing, she could see what had made Aiden the man he was. His mother’s gentle love, his sense of duty and his faith, which kept him strong even in hard times.

  She wished she could say the same about her belief.

  “My Aiden worked long hours six days a week. We had fuel and food enough through the winter, thanks to him.” Ida gave a soft sigh, a sound of love and gratitude. “He and Thad worked beside me in the fields come spring, and we drew in a crop that harvest. It took all of us working, but Aiden made the difference. He is a good man, Joanna.”

  Oh, the point of the conversation. She carried the bowl to the counter. “You don’t need to convince me, Ida. My opinion of Aiden is already sky-high.”

  “He’s a rare one, just like my Thad.” Noelle chimed in, rising from her chair, using her fingertips to guide her along the table’s edge. “Aiden tells me you are available for hiring. Is this true?”

  “Yes. I sound too eager. I’m sorry.” Joanna’s knees had turned watery and she leaned on the counter to steady herself. Work. She had stopped praying long ago for a job. A woman could get her hopes only so high before she realized they would just come crashing to the ground. And yet here it was, the hope she had been afraid to feel. “What kind of work?”

  “Didn’t Aiden tell you? Oh, isn’t that just like a man.” Friendly and so wonderfully gentle, Noelle came over to the counter as if she saw just fine. “I have been looking for someone to clean and do laundry for me. Maybe help Ida out in the garden, since I am a hopeless gardener, not being able to see one plant from another.”

  “That makes it very hard to garden, dear.” Ida’s merriment was lovingly meant. “I think Joanna would be just right for us. I would be happy to keep an eye on your children. What treasures they are.”

  “I would love that.” She had a job. Her worries about her children’s care were solved. Their future had changed. Just like that.

  Thank-you seemed too small of a word for what Noelle and Ida were offering her. Gratitude built within Joanna like a rising dam. This was because of Aiden. Because of him, she no longer felt alone.

  “We’re starving out here.” Aiden filled the doorway, wry humor in his half grin. “How much longer is it going to be?”

  “We’re setting the table now,” Noelle said cheerfully as she counted out dinner plates from her glass-fronted cabinets. “You go back outside, wash up and take the kids with you. You men may as well make yourselves useful.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Aiden saluted her, then his gaze swept right past her.

  Joanna felt the impact of his eyes, but it was a welcome thing. Here, with his family, he seemed happier, as if a little more life had crept into him. As if the hopelessness he was drowning in had ebbed away for now. Her heart filled with admiration for him.

  In truth, maybe it was a little more than admiration she felt for him. A smidgeon more than respect.

  “I’ll make sure the little ones are washed and ready for dinner,” he told her over the kitchen noise, his gaze meeting hers and shrinking the distance between them.

  Her pulse stopped; her world stilled. The sounds of Ida taking the roast out of the oven and the clink as Noelle set the table faded into silence. There was only the man tipping his hat to her, only Aiden, his dark blue eyes holding hers a moment too long.

  It was like eternity. Like hope found. Her unprotected heart tumbled a notch. She gripped the counter more tightly, afraid her feelings showed on her face. Afraid that he would look at her and know. Because she was certain now that this was more than plain admiration she had for him, more than simple respect.

  “Ma!” Daisy squeezed past his knee and tumbled into the kitchen, breathless, with daisy petals clinging to her little pink pinafore. She held up her hands, full of wildflowers. “I got enough for a necklace!”

  Aware of Aiden watching her, Joanna gulped hard and struggled to sound normal. “Come here, honey, and give them to me. It’s time for dinner. We’ll make your necklace after we eat.”

  She knelt, feeling Aiden’s gaze like an unspoken question. She did not know what he was thinking, but whatever it was, the rare humor had faded from his face. His eyes were shielded, his mouth a hard, unyielding line. Her hands trembled as she collected Daisy’s prize of picked flowers.

  “Ma!” Her baby’s eyes went wide. “Is that real butter for the potatoes?”

  “Yes, sweetie.” Real butter had been a rarity before and nonexistent lately.

  “Goody.” The little girl sparkled with excitement.

  “Go with Mr. McKaslin and get washed up.” Joanna swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Tell James, too.”

  “Okay.” Good girl that she was, Daisy pranced off, shoes tapping on the wood floor, and raced out the open door.

  Aiden was gone. He hadn’t heard the butter comment. Joanna rose on her shaky knees, relieved that she didn’t have to see that look of pity on his face or, worse, one of understanding. He knew what hardship was. Perhaps that was why she liked him so much. He understood that you could do your best, do everything right, and it could still go wrong. At least she didn’t have to look at him and wonder what he’d read on her face.

  “What a precious child,” Noelle was saying. “And your little boy is adorable. I heard him pretending to round up wild horses outside the door. We should tell Thad. He and I have a new herd of mustangs that were captured on the prairie. Perhaps he would like to look at them, although they are not tame, I’m afraid. The stallion is very protective of his herd.”

  “I’m sure he would love seeing them. We have already met Sunny.”

  “Sunny is exceptional. He loves children. He’s been Thad’s horse for many years.”

  Joanna adored this woman—practically a stranger—for her kindness. She had forgotten there were such people in the world. She had forgotten what a difference kindness could make.

  She would never let herself forget this moment, these people. Just as she would not forget what she saw when she looked out the open door: the image of Aiden watching over her children at the pump. He held the soap for them and handed James the towel. He was a caring man, despite his gruffness and distance.

  Kindness was one thing she could give him. She circled around Ida and slipped the pie into the oven. She owed Aiden McKaslin more kindness than she could possibly repay, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying.

  “She sure bakes a tasty pie,” Thad said as he clipped the lead rope on his mustang’s halter. Sunny, a palomino paint, tossed his head and looked over the fence rail at the little kids on the
other side. The horse gave a snort as if scenting the air, trying to make up his mind about the children.

  He was a gentle fellow. Aiden ran his hand down the mustang’s neck. Thad was trying to get more information about Joanna. He was fishing around, suspecting more was going on than appeared at the surface, just as their mother did.

  Frustrated, Aiden shook his head. “That’s why I hired her. She makes the best biscuits I’ve ever tasted and her pancakes are better than Ma’s. It took one bite to know I would be a fool if I didn’t hire her.”

  “And she just happens to move into the shanty a stone’s throw away from you.” Thad tossed him a smile over the top of Sunny’s mane. “That’s mighty generous of you.”

  “She and her kids have been living out of their wagon since her pa died.”

  “Back in June?”

  “Yep. Good thing it’s summer. A few more months and then what would they have done?” Aiden opened the gate into the training corral he’d helped Thad build a few weeks before. “I know what you’re thinking, and stop it. The minister has already let me know how this looks.”

  “What? I was only thinking I’m glad you found someone to cook for you. I was feeling mighty guilty taking Ma off your hands.”

  “Noelle needs her help, we both know that, and it’s been good for Ma, too. You know how she likes to be needed.” He glanced toward the small rise where the new house stood, windows open to the warm breezes. He searched until he found Joanna in the kitchen, washing dishes and handing them to Noelle to dry. She was talking away like women were wont to do.

  Joanna seemed relaxed and happy, the exhaustion gone from her face, replaced by a healthy glow to her pretty complexion. She looked good—more than good. Funny what a handful of nights with worry-free sleep and plentiful meals, would do.