Prairie Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “I ate cabbage yesterday, and I do not think it agreed with her. I made the rest into sauerkraut, so you do not need to worry. I will not have it again as long as I feed her.”

  His brow furrowed. “Lena, I’ll stock your place when you leave us. Stop preserving food and don’t worry about firewood.”

  In an effort to pacify Johnny since he kept whimpering, she rocked side to side. “Already you have a man doing much good work with my crops. I cannot accept more!

  “Wait here.” He walked away and returned a moment later without Talitha. With a few quick tugs, he untied the straps holding Johnny to her back. “He’s winding up. Is he hungry?”

  “He may be wet again.” Steven carried the cradle board into her room and laid it on the bed. She plucked Johnny out and hummed a lullaby under her breath as she deftly changed him.

  “You’re always so patient with the babies, Lena.”

  She smiled at the compliment. “It is not easy some days, but they need to be loved, so I try.”

  When she moved to tuck Johnny back into the cradle board, Steven halted her. He swiped Johnny, slipped him back into his cradle, then turned to her. “I can’t let you go back home today, Lena. You’re plumb tuckered out. Go back to bed.”

  She cast a longing look at the bed then decisively shook her head. “There is much that needs doing.”

  Strong, lean, tanned fingers captured her jaw. He turned her face ever so slightly toward the window so the first pink rays of dawn illuminated her features. “The dark circles under your eyes tattle, Lena. You’re weary beyond imagining. This is ridiculous. If you fall sick, we’ll have a real mess on our hands. The babies need you healthy.”

  “I am not sick.”

  “You’re weaving on your feet!”

  A gamine smile tilted her lips. “I am in the habit of rocking. It soothes the children.”

  “I’ll pull a rocking chair in here for you.”

  “That would be most kind. Thank you.”

  “For now, you’re going to bed.” He swept her up and placed her in the center of the bed. Once he settled her there, he cupped her shoulders and gave her a stern look. “You desperately need sleep. Don’t even think of getting up till noon.”

  “I am no slugabed!”

  “No, Lena, no one could ever rightfully accuse you of sloth. Today, at least, you’re going to rest up, though.” He turned and paced from the room. Practical, ugly boots in the hallway stopped him. His heart twisted. She’d been tiptoeing out of here and putting on those ugly monstrosities downstairs to keep from awakening him or Mrs. Axelrod. She worked harder than any man he knew, yet she never complained. In fact, he now realized he’d leaned heavily on her, even though she’d suffered a recent loss herself. From all accounts, she and Lars had a strong, happy marriage, yet she handled her grief with a dignity and serenity he could not begin to emulate. He envied her peace of heart.

  He picked up the boots and took them back to her room. In the few moments he’d been gone, she’d turned onto her side, curled up, and already fallen fast asleep. In the brief moment he’d lifted her, she’d seemed far too slight. Worried that she might be sickening, he summoned old Doc Willowby.

  Doc sat in the parlor that noon. “Her son nurses about every four hours.” He paused meaningfully and peered over his glasses. “Your daughter needs feeding every hour and a half.”

  Steven sucked in a noisy breath. “That was supposed to just be for the first few days.”

  Doc continued, “Your daughter came a full four weeks early, so she’s a wee mite. Her stomach is small and can’t hold much, but because she’s premature, it takes her longer to suckle. She’ll have to eat frequently for a good while yet. Don’t get the wrong impression here—Lena didn’t complain one bit, even though she’s clearly reached the point of total exhaustion.”

  “Lena never complains.” Steven said the words softly. Jane often pouted if she felt put upon, or she lamented little inconveniences. He’d needed to cajole her and placate her with tiny gifts and affection, but he’d figured it was a feminine trait. The realization that he’d made a comparison at all and his beloved wife hadn’t been the victor sent pangs of guilt through him.

  Doc adjusted his glasses. “You were smart to get Mrs. Swenson to stay in bed, and you are right to be concerned about how thin she’s gotten. If she drops any more weight, she’ll lose her milk. It’s not that she’s sick; it’s like she’s feeding twins, so she needs to eat like a field hand.”

  Steven groaned and thought of how Lena invariably ate every last morsel off of her plate. Jane always practiced perfect manners and left a few bites, so by comparison, he’d found Lena’s manners wanting. Disgusted with himself, he realized aloud, “I’ve been starving her! Why didn’t she say something?”

  “I asked. The poor woman had to worry about having enough food on hand, so she never imagined anyone else had much more in the way of supplies. It didn’t occur to her that you had more than what was put before her. Every single day has been a struggle for simple survival. On top of that, she’s still suffering her own grief. The poor woman was already straining to keep her head above water. Taking on your daughter was the single most selfless act I’ve ever seen.”

  “We’ll take care of her.”

  “She can still suckle the babies. In fact, if we take them away, she’ll undoubtedly lose her milk in less than two days. Talitha still won’t take a bottle, but she’s thriving with Lena, so we need to safeguard them both. Food and rest—that’s what she needs. Bible-reading time, too. Lena’s one of those godly women who needs to nourish her soul to survive. It’s undoubtedly what’s gotten her through her trials.”

  “Whatever it takes, she’ll have it. Thanks for coming by.”

  After Doc left, Steven trudged up the stairs. He’d considered Lena a sturdy farm girl until this morning. Wound up in his own sorrow, he’d failed to note how much of a strain he’d put on her. The doctor’s words sobered him even more. He had to see her for himself. No noise came from the room, so he tapped lightly on the door.

  Mrs. Axelrod opened it. She had Talitha over her shoulder and absently patted her to elicit a tiny burp. He glanced beyond them. Lena lay in bed, her braid once again unwoven so the tresses fanned out in a golden sunburst. Even in sleep, her expression was serene. Doc attributed that to her faith. Steven coveted the peace she had.

  Steven stepped closer and intently studied the sleeping woman. Her hands were folded together under her chin as if she’d plummeted into sleep in the middle of a prayer. Deep crescents of fatigue shadowed her eyes. Her neck and hands were impossibly thin. The very thought of her toting buckets of water or chopping wood was completely ludicrous, yet he knew she had. The calluses on her hands were ample proof of that. For the first time, he was glad those were the hands that held and cared for his daughter.

  Chapter 7

  The morning sun cast a narrow strip of buttery light over the foot of the bed. Steven barely opened the door an inch and let out a sigh of relief. The room was quiet. Lena and the babes were sleeping. A plate had joined Lena’s Bible and brush on the dresser. The crust of bread left there bore mute testimony to the fact that Lena had eaten the snack he’d ordered Mrs. Axelrod to take up each night. Steven gently fingered Talitha’s blanket then smoothed Johnny’s cowlick down before he slipped away. He couldn’t set out on a day’s work unless he assured himself everyone was faring well.

  He saw to a few matters around the ranch then saddled up and headed for town. Folks murmured their condolences, and he accepted them grimly. Some of his old friends invited him to go into the Watering Hole and get rip-roaring drunk with them, but he exercised his self-control and refused. He had more pride and sense than that.

  Watts’ Mercantile sat between the bank and the diner. Hannah and Thaddeus Watts ran a fair place. They carried the necessities and offered them at a reasonable price. Steven had always gotten his hardware, tools, and essentials here. The store smelled of pickle brine and lemon oil and b
rand-new leather goods. It always did, and the stability of that fact gave an odd comfort. Hannah stopped dusting off a shelf and gently rested her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry to hear of your loss. How are you and the baby doing?”

  He cleared his throat and wished his eyes didn’t feel like they had sand blown into them. “I—um, I have Mrs. Swenson there with the baby for the time being.”

  Hannah’s face brightened. “There’s a nice arrangement. With Mrs. Axelrod getting on a bit in her years and that great big old house to mind, she simply can’t keep up with a baby. Waking up every couple of hours and having to warm bottles would wear her to a frazzle. Lena’s young, strong, and has a real sweet way about her. You made a good choice.”

  Her words about Mrs. Axelrod flummoxed him. Steven had somehow assumed the housekeeper would take on the mothering responsibilities until Talitha reached her schooling years and needed a governess. Now that he pondered on it a moment, cooking, laundry, and cleaning kept Mrs. Axelrod busy morning till night. Chasing after a toddler would pose an undue burden on her. As soon as Lena weaned Talitha, he’d need to hire a nanny. Unthinkingly, he asked, “When do women wean their babes?”

  Hannah blushed brightly. She dipped her head and murmured, “It’s different with each baby.”

  He shared her embarrassment. Rattled, he blurted out, “I didn’t know. Johnny is eight months, so I knew it was at least that long. Talitha is real tiny. She was too weak and small to take a bottle. She came early, you know, and I guess she might, um, need longer….” His head dropped back, and he grimaced. Staring at the ceiling, he muttered, “Ma’am, could you do me the great kindness of forgetting this conversation?”

  He could feel her lean closer. She whispered, “Mr. Halpern, am I to understand Lena Swenson isn’t just minding your baby? That she’s wet-nursing her?”

  Steven straightened up and rubbed the back of his neck. He stared intently at the woman and wordlessly nodded. I hope she doesn’t gossip this all over the township!

  “Oh,” she said in a tiny voice. “Women did that back in Bible times. Poor child! Is she improving at all?”

  Paternal pride surged. “She’s still a bitty thing, but she’s not twig thin anymore. She’s holding her head up, too.”

  Hannah beamed. “How wonderful!”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is. I count it close to a miracle. She was so sickly at first, Doc wasn’t sure she’d pull through. I owe it all to the very special care she’s been given.”

  She winked. “It’ll be our little secret.”

  He let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Steven paused a moment then lowered his voice even more. “Mrs. Watts, ma’am, truth is, I need to rely on your discretion on another issue, too.”

  “I assure you, I will hold your confidence.” She hastily added, “Save for the fact that I do not keep anything from my husband.”

  Her addendum was so charmingly honest, it reassured him. Steven leaned a hip against the counter and silently handed her a slip of paper. It was too embarrassing to speak the need aloud, but Lena’s clothes were ready for the ragbag, and she used a shawl because she had no robe. He hadn’t noticed that last fact until Mrs. Axelrod said something right before he left this morning.

  While he waited, Steven selected a few of the smallest baby gowns for Talitha and tossed a pair of the larger ones on the stack for Johnny. His mouth quirked upward. Johnny was an active little guy. A man would be pleased to have a strong son like that to leave his land to. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he wentsomber. He’d secretly hoped for a son, and now he’d never have one. He couldn’t imagineever marrying another woman. He’d never be fair to her because he’d cherished Jane, and no other woman could possibly measure up.

  “I think we’re ready,” Mrs. Watts called to him. The bell over the door jangled as she set a small stack of clothing on the counter. “Will there be anything else?”

  Steven silently added the baby things and waited for her to wrap it all. He turned and saw two women gossiping furiously behind their hands. One pointed to the counter, and he realized they were gawking at the things he’d bought for Lena.

  Lena’s cheeks scorched with color when Mrs. Axelrod dumped the contents of the package on the kitchen table. She gave Steven a horrified look. “Mr. Halpern, how could you do this? I cannot accept such fine things!”

  “Those gowns cost only two dollars apiece! That’s as common as can be.” He scowled at the dress she was wearing. “Clearly you need them.”

  She shook her head. “I am sorry, Mr. Halpern, that you are ashamed of me. I cannot change who I am or what I own. I do not have two dollars to buy a fine lady’s church dress to wear so I can go home to clean the chicken coop and muck the stall.”

  He stared at her in utter silence. Finally, he said, “Lena, I’m not ashamed of you.”

  “Yes, you are. You had a wife who had soft clothes and softer hands. I never met her, but I am sure you bought her many beautiful two-dollar gowns. I can see how much you cherished her and that you gave her many things. That was lovely, and she was blessed.” “But—“

  “But I am a plain woman. My hands get dirty. Even when Lars was alive, we could not afford such luxuries. I did not pine for them. He chose the feed sacks with care because he loved to see me wear blue, and each time I wore my dress, he told me with his eyes and words he was glad I was his wife.” She gave Steven a bittersweet smile. “Fancy and expensive things do not suit me. Feed sacks are good enough. I do not need a two-dollar dress to be a happy woman.”

  He fixed his gaze on her and said slowly, “No, Lena, you don’t. I can see you’re a woman who finds contentment easily.” He then turned to Mrs. Axelrod and silently pled for her to make the poor widow accept his paltry gift.

  Mrs. Axelrod obliged. She held up the robe and declared briskly, “Now that we’ve established that you’re not a gold digger, let’s face reality. You certainly do need this.”

  Lena doggedly declared, “My shawl is enough.”

  Steven bristled. “Woman! Stubbornness better not be a trait passed on in milk, because if it is, Talitha is going to be a handful. Now stop acting so prideful andcarry those things up to your chamber!”

  Talitha started to cry. Lena lifted a shaking hand to her forehead as if she had a terrible headache. “Please take all of it back. I refuse to wear it and do not want to argue any longer. I need to change and feed the children.” Steven realized he’d shouted his last words at her. Her muted response was far more civilized than he’d deserved.

  He’d have never let anyone bellow at Jane like that. The woman was stubborn as an old mule and unreasoning as any member of her fair sex. Still, he needed to be careful not to upset her. “Sit down, Lena. Mrs. Axelrod, fix her some chow.” He scooped up the clothes and headed for the stairs. “I’ll take these things up for you. I’m sure you’ll change your mind.”

  Much later that evening, Lena sought him out. “Could I please have a moment?”

  “Sure.”

  She stared up at him, her eyes glistening. “Mr. Halpern, the sun has set.”

  Her comment seemed ludicrous. “Of course it has.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted into a wobbly, winsome smile. “The Bible says not to let the sun go down on your anger. I spoke angry words to you. They were honest ones, but I did not temper them as I should have. I know you are hurting in your heart these days, yet you tried to be generous. Please forgive me.”

  “You’re making a barn out of a berry box, Lena. Forget it. I raised my voice, and you got a bit huffy. It’s nothing. Just accept the clothes as an expression of my thanks and go to bed.”

  Steven knew he’d made a grave miscalculation early the next morning. Lena’s reaction should have warned him, but he’d been too preoccupied to take the hint. The impact of his actions hit full force when Jane’s parents arrived on his doorstep. Amabelle Maxwell swept past him and looked about. “Why didn’t your housekeeper answer the door?”

  Ste
ven shut the door after Harold Maxwell entered. He swept a hand toward the parlor. “Come on in. Our neighbor’s health took a bad turn yesterday, so Mrs. Axelrod went over to help.”

  The Maxwells didn’t bother to go into the parlor. They exchanged a wary look. Amabelle’s tone went icy. “Are you telling us you were here, alone, all night with that woman?”

  Harold Maxwell didn’t even give Steven a chance to answer. He raged, “Even with the gossip in town, we thought to give you a chance. I can see now what they were saying is true. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” He grabbed his wife’s elbow and started tugging her out the door. “Come, Amabelle.”

  Amabelle’s eyes flooded with tears. “You lecher! Our dear Jane, just buried, and you’re already carrying on!”

  “Now wait just a minute!” Steven gritted out.

  “We’re not listening to any of your lies or excuses.” Mr. Maxwell pulled his wife outside and stormed, “You can bet we’ll take legal measures to get custody of our granddaughter. We won’t let you taint her with your wicked example!”

  Chapter 8

  Lena, we need to talk.”

  His heightened color and angry tone made her suck in a deep breath.

  Lena quietly took a seat and waited for him to speak. What did I do wrong? Why is he so mad?

  “Jane’s parents have petitioned to get Talitha.” His eyes blazed as he bit out the words.

  “No!”

  “Oh yes,” he said bitterly. “Her daddy is a retired congressman, and he has some powerful connections. That wily old coot got the whole deal figured out. According to him, I’m an unfit father, so they should rear Talitha.”

  Lena shook her head. “That makes no sense. It is untrue. You are a good father.”

  “Oh, they’re twisting things around. I’m afraid you’re getting dragged into it, and it’s dirty.”

  “Me? How can this be?”