Prairie Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  The ground was still damp, so he hadn’t needed to water the crops. He’d visited her garden and staked up a few of the tomato plants. He’d carried the wood she’d chopped and stacked it by the side of the soddy.

  She stirred the laundry, hung up the damp things on her line, then wrung out the bedding and hung it up, too. Boris trotted along with her and acted delighted to be in her company.

  Lena collected Johnny and sat in the shade to nurse him. It was noon—time for her to make herself some dinner. She wasn’t overly hungry, and it would be best for her to skip a meal whenever possible to conserve her supplies. Jesus, help me not to feel bitter about Mr. Halpern’s ingratitude. Please keep Your hand on Talitha and soften her father’s heart.

  The ranch hand had left a mess on the table, so Lena scraped the dishes into a slop bucket for the pigs. With water scarce, she took the plates and skillet outside and used sand to scour them. While doing so, she tried to think of a way to make a box of some sort for Johnny. He’d soon be crawling, and she worried that he’d hurt himself while she was busy with chores. Lars would have built something special. He’d made the beautiful cradle. He was so good with his hands. Grief curled in her heart.

  Distracted by her sad thoughts, Lena didn’t hear the horse until Boris barked. Seconds later, she detected a high-pitched wail as she tucked the dishes into a basket, yet she didn’t turn around. Jesus, please help me act and speak with kindness.

  “What kind of woman are you, Lena Swenson, to leave a motherless baby to starve?” Steven’s words stole her breath away. He sat in the saddle glowering at her. He held his daughter as if she were a bale of barbed wire. His eyes were just as sharp.

  Lena forced herself to stay silent. The dishes rattled as she put one last cup into the basket and got to her feet. Talitha’s wails rose in urgency. Halpern dismounted and headed toward her. “Stop that infernal nonsense and do your duty!”

  Lena turned to the side and plucked Johnny from his basket. Without a word, she headed for the soddy. Steven intercepted her. He stood between her and her home. “What,” he demanded, “are you doing?”

  Her chin jutted forward. “I am doing my duty. My son is wet and hungry.”

  “So is my daughter.”

  “Then change her.”

  “That’s a woman’s job.”

  Lena shifted Johnny’s weight a bit and stared at her neighbor. “You may think I am cruel, but I will say this, for you must hear it and live by the truth. When your mate dies, there is no such luxury as having men’s and women’s jobs. Things must be done, and you are the only one who is there to accomplish them. For your daughter’s sake, you must learn to care for her. You have no choice.”

  His face paled. The muscle in his cheek twitched. “Cruel doesn’t even begin to cover what I think of you. If there were any other way for my daughter to eat, I’d gladly do it.”

  Lord, he’s so bitter and harsh. Give me a soft word to turn away his wrath. “You brought her. I said if you brought her, I would feed her. Fetch a diaper from your saddlebag. Come inside, and I will teach you how to change her.”

  He stayed in her path and grimaced.

  “Until you decide my home is good enough, I still must see to my own son. Excuse me.” She slipped past him and went inside. Lena started to hum as she laid Johnny on the bare mattress and changed his diaper. A huge shadow suddenly blocked out the sunlight spilling from the doorway. She didn’t look up. She kept humming a hymn under her breath.

  “I didn’t bring a diaper.”

  His confession triggered both pity and concern. How could he plan to keep his daughter when he was so inept? “Go get a diaper off of the clothesline.”

  He didn’t say anything at all. He simply wheeled around and headed off toward the rope where her laundry snapped in the prairie wind. When he reappeared in the doorway, he balanced the laundry basket in one hand and the baby in the other.

  “Bring her here.” Lena dropped Johnny’s wet diaper into a bucket and rinsed her hands in the washbowl. As she dried them, she said in a sad tone, “I am proud of my home. Lars built it for us, and we filled it with love. I know you are used to fancy things, but that is your life. Johnny and I are warm and happy here. If you wish me to help Talitha, you will have to accept me and my home.”

  “Listen, both of these kids are crying. Can’t you feed them first and save your sermon for later?”

  Lena stared at him in stunned silence. She went over, turned the rocking chair to face away from the door, and sat down. She pulled a shawl over her shoulder and self-consciously unbuttoned her bodice. A second later, Johnny stopped crying.

  “Hey! I thought you said you’d feed my daughter first!”

  “She needs to be in a dry diaper and gown.”

  “Don’t tell me Johnny doesn’t pee all over you.”

  “Sometimes he does.”

  “He’ll eat everything. You won’t have enough left.”

  “Small babes need very little. God will provide enough.”

  “Listen to her crying,” he said in a nervous tone. “You can feed them both at the same time. Let her eat now, too.”

  Lena glanced down and readjusted the shawl. “Bring her to me as soon as you are done changing her diaper.”

  It wasn’t long before she heard the ground crunch beneath his feet. He awkwardly changed Talitha then shoved her into Lena’s arms and hightailed out of the soddy. After she finished nursing the babes, she went back outside. He turned around, and his haggard look tore at her soul. “Mr. Halpern, I do not mind caring for your daughter, but I must still tend my land.”

  He nodded curtly. “Nights at my place, days here. She’s mine. I want her under my roof and protection at night.”

  Chapter 5

  Lena somberly stepped back into the columbine bedroom. Mrs. Axelrod stood in the doorway and pled, “Please don’t be too hard on him. He’s grieving for his wife.”

  Lena cranked her head to the side and swallowed a big lump in her throat. She’d been without Lars for eight months. She’d been terribly alone and afraid. Every day, she suffered the backbreaking farm labor and loneliness. Every night, she fixed supper for only herself. Her grief was still raw.

  “I’m not trying to be mean, Lena. You don’t understand—“

  “I do not understand? I spent eight months in solitude and delivered my son on my own.” Her voice broke.

  Mrs. Axelrod sucked in a loud breath. “I’m sorry, Lena. Truly I am. You’re so good with the babies and keep such a calm spirit, it’s hard to remember you’re freshly widowed.”

  “God gives me strength and comfort,” Lena whispered.

  “Poor Boss. He’s shaking his fist at the Almighty for taking his wife. I did the same for a good long while when my Sam passed on. It’s a rare person who can endure grief like you have.”

  Lena settled into the room and confessed, “Each day, I have had to pray for help. It is like being forced to pull a heavy wagon alone when once there was another who shared the yoke. God only gives strength enough for each day, for each step.”

  Mrs. Axelrod shook her head and pulled Johnny away. “Speaking of strength, you look near worn to a frazzle. If I don’t miss my guess, you did three days’ work in one morning. You take a rest, and I’ll change this one. He’s wet as a leaky bucket.”

  Steven couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t slept a night through since Jane died. He tossed, punched his pillow, and lay in the darkness. Unable to fill the aching void, he got up and paced out of his room.

  Without thinking, he went to Lena’s room. Once there, he glanced about and thought how impractical the furniture was. The washstand and sleigh bed were carved alike and useful, but everything else was far too ornate. He hadn’t stepped foot in here since the day Jane finished decorating it, and now that he didn’t have his wife beside him to distract him, he studied the room and found the whole affair far too fussy. Blue flowers, white lace, and blue ruffles made him want to bolt. Doodads rested on every available surface
—little glass bottles, picture frames, porcelain statues.

  The dresser top was different. It held only Lena’s leather-bound Bible and a hairbrush. The stark simplicity of those two items jarred him. Sturdy. Practical. Like their owner. Ah—and there was a chair there—propping up the top drawer. Still. His scowl deepened as he realized his daughter occupied that makeshift bassinet. He’d get the boy’s cradle over here today.

  Steven peeked at both babies. They slept like angels. All he could see of Lena was her profile. She’d turned her face away. Her pale hair flowed over the pillows in an unrestrained mass. The sight was a beautiful one—but completely unexpected.

  His wife had been proud of her hair. She made a show of taking it down each night, brushing it one hundred strokes, and plaiting it. There was something… wanton about a woman who went to bed with her hair unbound and wild. Jane had been far too mannerly and demure to do anything so impulsive. No matter what time of the day or night, she’d been a complete and total lady from the top of her perfectly coifed coronet to her narrow feet. This woman obviously hadn’t ever been taught proper conduct. A wry grin twisted his lips. No husband in his right mind would point out that shortcoming and lose such a magnificent vision.

  Traversing the room silently was no small feat. Afraid to make any noise or sudden moves, Steven navigated around a marble pedestal with a Grecian statue on it. He practically tripped over the tip of the cradle runner then bumped into the bedside table. He fought the urge to start pitching all of the folderols and knickknacks on it straight out the window. Instead, he breathed a sigh of relief that Lena and both babies were still asleep. He lifted Talitha into his arms, tiptoed out, pulled the door almost shut, and headed for his bedchamber.

  Feeling adrift, he paced over to the far side of the room and stared out the window. One work-rough hand cradled the babe to his chest; the other went up and tentatively touched the pane. He could see the tree from here. Jane was buried beneath it. In a grief-heavy whisper he said, “I’m doing the best I can for her, Jane. Her name’s Talitha. It’s a pretty name. Comes from the Bible.” His voice broke. “Oh, sweetheart, I miss you. We need you.” He hung his head and finally let his silent tears flow.

  A short while later, Steven took a deep breath and dashed away the proof of his raw grief. Sorrow weighted his steps as he went back to his bed. There hecurled next to his little blanket-wrapped daughter and finally slowly drifted off to sleep.

  Heart in her throat, Lena swept her shawl around her shoulders and ran out into the hallway. Talitha was missing! Lena looked about, unsure of where to go or what to do. She’d never explored the house, but she knew which chamber belonged to Mr. Halpern. Had he taken his daughter? She sped to his door, and though he didn’t respond to her knock, she heard Talitha’s whimper. Relief flooded her. Lena let out a shaky breath and tapped on the door again.

  Her heart nearly broke at the sight that met her when she hesitantly entered the room. Steven Halpern lay curled around a tiny bundle. His big hand cupped it and nestled it close to his heart. How many times had Lena done that with Johnny herself? Snuggled her son to her breast and tried to mute the pain of losing her mate?

  Talitha fussed a bit louder. Her father roused a bit and nuzzled her downy hair. Though Lena hated to part them, she tiptoed closer and whispered, “She’s hungry.”

  He opened his eyes and canted up on one elbow. His other hand brushed the edge of the blanket from the baby’s face, and he fingered her cheek. “Bring her back when she’s done.”

  Lena did as he asked as soon as Talitha was full. She couldn’t deny him that comfort. She slipped his daughter back into his arms. He said nothing, but the pain burning in his eyes and the almost desperate way he accepted his daughter spoke volumes.

  A while later, Lena woke to find him standing over her. “I think she’s hungry again. I changed her already.”

  She accepted the baby, but to her dismay, Johnny picked that moment to start fussing. “Stay put. I’ll change him,” Steven said. He lifted her son from the cradle then changed him on the foot of Lena’s bed. “He’s a fine boy. Robust. Lars must have been proud.”

  Lena swallowed hard. “Lars never saw his son. You are the first and only man who has ever held Johnny.”

  “Other than Doc Willowby…” His eyes widened as she shook her head negatively. He pulled Johnny up into his strong arms and held him so gently, Lena’s heart tripped at the sight. “But, Lena—who? How…?”

  She’d assumed Mrs. Axelrod had told him. Obviously he didn’t know. “Johnny was born the week before Christmas, during the blizzard. I was alone.” Memories assailed her. Fear, pain, loneliness, joy… She gave him a sad smile.

  “You did it all by yourself,” he marveled under his breath. He looked down at Johnny and thought aloud, “Being with child is hard enough on a woman. I can’t fathom how you lived alone and managed your chores each day, let alonecomprehend handling the birth all on your own. You are a remarkable woman, Lena Swenson. I don’t know of another woman who could have done it.”

  “God gave me strength.”

  Pain replaced the admiration on his face. “Why,”—he rasped hoarsely as he put Johnny on the mattress close by her—“why didn’t God give Jane strength?”

  “I do not know. I am sorry. I do not know why He took Lars, either. Each day, I look at Johnny and try to be thankful for the time I had and the son that his love left me.”

  “That’s not enough. It’s not enough for me.”

  Lena didn’t know what to say. He looked awful. His throat worked, and the muscles in his stubbled jaw twitched. The shadows beneath his eyes tattled on how hard grief rode him and robbed him of his rest. She reached out to touch his arm. Wordlessly he jerked away, turned, and left.

  Chapter 6

  Fpr the next three weeks, Lena rarely saw Steven Halpern other than at night when he snuck Talitha away. They’d come to a tenuous understanding. Lena slept beneath his roof but then took Talitha with her each day when she went home to work her farm. Because of the hours of work she lost by having to travel each day, Steven insisted on having one of his men stay in her barn and work as a hired hand.

  From the pretty mahogany and porcelain mantel clock in her bedroom at the Halpern ranch, Lena had learned that tiny little Talitha needed to nurse every hour and a half. Day and night, she had to halt whatever she was doing to take half an hour to feed the newborn. Each day, she looked about the farm and felt more discouraged. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep up. Nursing another baby and traveling back and forth each day robbed her of too much time.

  Even with the man helping her water and tend the crops, Lena had plenty to do. Storing and preserving food was a priority. She harvested truck from her garden then canned. It was hot, time-consuming work to boil down the vegetables and sterilize and seal the jars.

  Each night, she left a bit later to go to the Halpern place. She’d wear Johnny on her back in a carrier she’d fashioned along the lines of the cradle boards Indians used, and she tucked Talitha in a sash of fabric she wore across her front. Steven insisted she ride his gentlest mare since her old plow horse was too slow to transport her satisfactorily. One night, Mrs. Axelrod met her on the kitchen porch and snatched Talitha from the sash as she hissed, “Mr. Halpern is in the study. He’s fretting, you’re so late!”

  “I was busy,” Lena said dully.

  “He was ready to come after you.”

  “There was no need. I gave my word I would have her here each night, and I keep my promises. The tomatoes—“

  “Tomatoes!” The housekeeper glared and warned, “Boss won’t listen to flimsy excuses. His daughter always comes first.”

  Lena took the baby back and headed for the stairs. “Then you can let him know I’ve gone to my room to suckle her.”

  Since they were pressuring her to come home by sunset, Lena started rising even earlier. More than once, she dozed off in the saddle while the mare automatically carried her home.

 
On the rare occasions she saw Mr. Halpern, he was hollow-eyed with grief or occupied running his ranch. Lena prayed for him.

  Mrs. Axelrod was far too busy, too. Cooking and cleaning were already a huge job—adding on laundry for another adult and two babies stretched her to the limit. Too tired to do much to help her, Lena tried to rinse and wash the children’s clothes and diapers when she could. She insisted upon eating in the kitchen instead of having trays to make things easier on the housekeeper. At supper one night, Mrs. Axelrod asked, “How’re things at the farm?”

  “Dry. The drought, it is bad,” Lena admitted. “That one rain we had, it was not enough.”

  “We need more,” Steven agreed.

  After blotting her mouth with a napkin, Lena said, “When there is a need, God can use it as an opportunity to provide.” Talitha started to cry, so Lena excused herself from the table.

  Behind her, she heard Steven mutter, “God’s taking His sweet time, and while we’re waiting, her crops languish and my stock suffers.” She didn’t bother to turn and make a retort. She knew his pain and grief made him angry. With time and prayer, he’d come to understand the truth.

  A few days later, Lena got up and yawned as she changed the babies. Once fed, they both slipped back to sleep. She dressed and plaited her hair then carefully wrapped Johnny into his cradle board and strapped it to her back. Talitha didn’t stir at all as Lena lifted her into the sash so she could leave for the farm. Lena held a boot in each hand. Toeing open the door caused it to creak. Johnny let out a wail, and Lena winced.

  Steven appeared in his doorway. His hair was rumpled, and his chin looked heavily stubbled. Bare feet stuck out beneath a thick robe. “Lena, what’re you doing?”

  “I need to go now. Soon the sun will be up.”

  He padded over, took her boots from her hands, and dropped them on the floor with a loud pair of thuds. In the next instant, he took Talitha from her. “She fussed most of the night. You have to be exhausted.”