Black Hills Bride

by Deb Kastner

  She’d even broken one of her nails, she realized belatedly, wondering why she wasn’t as miffed about the discovery as she should be—or at least as she would have been a few days ago, before her foray into the South Dakota wilderness.

  She was learning the tough realities of her new world, and it appeared she was learning most everything the hard way.

  Things that appeared important in her sheltered middle-class suburban experience—her manicured fingernails, flawless complexion and perfect makeup—were considerably less of an issue in the rough terrain of mountain living.

  No one here cared what brand of jeans a woman wore, or where she’d had her hair done. It was different here. Strange, sometimes frighteningly so.

  She’d adjust. She had to. But she owed Erik a tremendous debt.

  The truth was, had he not replaced her food supply, she would have had to give up her dream of owning her own horse. The church money was already allocated. She couldn’t spend a penny of it, not even to feed herself in a crisis.

  Her own money, her pitiful excuse for a life savings, was allocated, as well—to buying a horse of her own. But if push came to shove, she would have had to use that money on food.

  But, of course, he didn’t know that. He didn’t know anything about her. He just happened to be chivalrous, though she couldn’t imagine for the life of her why he’d done something so kind and wonderful for her.

  How many men these days, she wondered, would go to such lengths to help a woman—help her?

  And Erik had not only rescued her, he’d rescued her dreams. Her heart swelled with emotion and gratitude for the rough cowboy who’d entered her life with the quiet force of the center of a tornado.

  She could do without a roof over her head, wild animals notwithstanding. But eating was pretty much of a necessity. She grinned wryly at her own humor, however depressing the situation was in reality.

  And the funniest part—or maybe it wasn’t funny at all—was the gift she’d found between the plastic boxes. A pair of cowboy boots.

  A real pair of cowboy boots—the short-heeled variety. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or angry.

  Either way, she couldn’t stay beholden to this man, even if it meant she did, in fact, have to give up her own dreams for a while. She’d waited this long, hadn’t she?

  “Please allow me to repay your kindness,” she pressed. “How much do I owe you?”

  Erik made a sound that sounded suspiciously like choking, and Dixie wondered if he was offended. Or was he laughing at her?

  She couldn’t tell. She knew if she looked into his eyes, she’d know for certain—but he vigilantly looked everywhere but at her.

  She watched him silently for a moment, taking in a big whiff of the fresh mountain air and a large dose of the pleasant view of the ruggedly handsome man slapping his dust-lined black cowboy hat on his thigh and toeing the dirt with the tip of one scuffed boot.

  “Shall we get started with today’s workload?” she asked at last, realizing he wasn’t going to broach the subject of money no matter how hard she pushed him. And she certainly couldn’t stare at him all day, as nice as the sight was.

  He nodded, looking distinctly relieved.

  She faltered over a laugh, assaulted by a sudden attack of nerves. Erik didn’t say anything, but she knew what he must be thinking.

  How could she possibly follow through on this monumental project?

  She was obviously underqualified for this task in every way. Undersized, understaffed and underqualified.

  Hadn’t last night proved as much?

  Yet God had called her to the work here, made way the path of the Lord at every turn.

  Even last night, when she’d felt more alone than she had since Abel announced he was going back to South Asia, God had provided help in the form of a stray Border collie and a quiet cowboy who didn’t appear all that enthused to have her hanging around in the first place.

  Her angels.

  She glanced again at Erik, wondering what he would think of being considered an angel in cowboy’s clothing. A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

  She thought he might object.

  “Actually I have very little idea on where to start,” she admitted candidly, looking around and sighing loudly. “Nothing in my education or training prepared me for this—uh, challenge.”

  “God’s country, like you said,” he reminded her gruffly, jamming his hat back on his head. “But you sure do need help, and that’s a fact. I’m going to town now to round up a carpentry crew and some ranch hands.”

  She nodded, speechless at the abrupt change in his behavior, his long, drawn-out instructions a far cry from the silent cowboy whose odd, old-fashioned manner was beginning to grow on her and charm her nearly as much as it annoyed her.

  Erik turned to go, but then spun on his heels, tipping his hat high on his forehead with the back of his hand. “You can pay your help, can’t you?”

  She laughed shakily at the irony lacing his question.

  The church had every penny of their money already budgeted, and she couldn’t change a cent of it. She could pay her staff, but couldn’t afford to feed herself.

  He certainly wouldn’t have agreed to work for her if he knew his quarterly bonus horse would come from her own thin-lined pocket. She’d have to take a second job or skimp on necessities, maybe even on her own horse, at least for a while. She wasn’t about to tell him that.

  As much as it infuriated her, he had a definite right to ask about salary, seeing as he was her first official employee.

  Was he afraid she wouldn’t pay him his wages?

  “Of course I’ll pay my staff,” she snapped, unable to keep exasperation from sounding in her voice. “The church has earmarked funds just for that purpose.”

  Erik must think her the worst kind of fool. How could he understand the passion she felt for the Lord’s work, the One asking her to trust what she couldn’t see? And that was nothing to say of the inner workings of church committees.

  By his own admittance, he wasn’t even a Christian, and even some mature, long-term Christians had trouble with the church committee part.

  Either he chose to ignore her tone, or he didn’t hear it. “Good thing,” he said with a nod. “I wouldn’t make a commitment to my men without the money to back my mouth up with.”

  No, he certainly didn’t take his words lightly, she reflected sardonically. Not in any context.

  She supposed his reluctance to speak should be considered a virtue, if the book of James had any bearing on it. But in Erik, his virtue appeared as a liability, and it rubbed her the wrong way.

  Especially the fact that whenever he spoke, he always seemed to be right. That tendency bothered her most of all.

  What an annoying habit.

  Erik arrived back at the retreat center a little more than four hours later. A tall, barrel-chested man with salt-and-pepper hair that touched his shoulders and a long, matching untrimmed beard accompanied him. The big man’s frayed red flannel shirt strained at the seams of his shoulders. Even the strength of his stride was impressive.

  Or was that oppressive?

  Dixie took a mental step backward. The man looked like a bear, or at least what she thought a bear must look like, being that she’d never seen a live one except in a zoo.

  She grimaced as she recalled last night’s ruckus with the raccoon and wondered if the huge tree trunk could sense her discomposure. She struggled in vain to fight her emotions.

  Even if the grizzly of a man didn’t feel her confusion, she was certain Erik saw everything, even the faint flush to her cheeks. He didn’t show it, though. Not a muscle moved out of place on his face. Not even his eyes gave him away.

  “Dixie, I’d like you to meet Ed McDonnell, your new construction foreman.”

  The big man grinned and stuck out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  That Dixie caught her jaw before it hit the floor was a feat in itself; that s
he managed to shake Ed’s hand and murmur something intelligible proved that miracles really did happen.

  The walking grizzly had the impeccable manners and speech of a Southern gentleman!

  She slid a glance at Erik, who had at last cracked a grin. He appeared to be enjoying himself, and she wondered for the tiniest inkling of a moment if Erik hadn’t spent the entire morning looking for the most backward-looking man in the territory to bring to her. Just to shake her up a bit.

  She wouldn’t doubt it for a moment.

  He probably didn’t know about Ed’s polished manners before he brought him up here, she thought cuttingly. It kind of ruined the image, took the edge off, in her opinion. She wondered what Erik thought.

  She pinched her mouth into a firm, straight line and met Erik’s gaze stare for stare. If he was trying to frighten her off, he was going to have to do a lot better than this.

  She had God, and God was a great deal larger than Ed McDonnell. She thrust out her right hand and smiled up at the man.

  “Glad to meet you, Mr. McDonnell. I’m sure you’ll be perfect for the job. A real asset to our staff.” She stopped speaking and shifted her gaze to Erik. “I have absolute faith in Erik’s judgment.”

  Erik’s heart leapt around like a newborn calf when her gaze met his. Her sparkling blue eyes were full of laughter—and challenge—neither of which he could figure.

  But then again, he’d never claimed to be an expert on women. He’d brought her the best carpenter in South Dakota, as far as he knew. How could she find fault with that?

  Besides that, Ed McDonnell was a vocal Christian influence in Custer, attending church as often as the doors were opened. So what was the problem?

  He sent Ed to survey the property, claiming they’d catch up with him in a minute. He might not know women, but he was relatively positive Dixie had a few words for him, and he might as well get it over with.

  Impossible woman.

  “I will not be intimidated, Mr. Wheeler,” she ground out sharply as soon as Ed was out of hearing range.

  One thing he was learning about Dixie—she called him Mr. Wheeler when she was angry. Clearly, he’d done something to upset her, whatever that might be. He had no clue. But he sure as shootin’ had done something wrong.

  At least in her mind he had.

  “What?” he snapped back, feeling just as prickly as she looked.

  “What did you do, spend all morning looking for the biggest man in the county?”

  The biggest man…?

  “What?” he asked again, rubbing a hand across his jaw. The woman made less than no sense. “The biggest man? I brought you the best man in the whole county. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Oh, right. I see. And you’re going to stand there and tell me size had nothing to do with your selection.”

  She marched up to him, planted her clenched fists on her hips and thrust her chin in the air as their gazes met and locked.

  At six-foot-even, Erik towered over Dixie. Goliath to the Biblical David, if he remembered his childhood stories from Sunday school.

  She was a petite little thing, that’s for sure. But she sure did pack a punch.

  And then it struck him right between the eyes. He knew what had her so riled up. She thought he’d picked Ed McDonnell to frighten her off.

  She couldn’t be more wrong.

  He pressed his lips together and tugged down on his cowboy hat. He’d never do anything so low, even if he did believe she didn’t belong here.

  And for some reason, it really bothered him that she thought he was capable of such an act. He’d already decided he wanted her to stick around for a while. But just until he got his colt and filly, of course.

  “I’m going to join Ed now,” he stated gruffly.

  She placed a hand on his arm and he froze, inside and out. Even his lungs refused to work.

  “Oh, no, you’re not. Not until you assure me Ed McDonnell can do the job. I’m not paying men to intimidate me.”

  Erik pulled his arm away and glared down at her until the rim of his hat was touching her forehead. Blood pounded in his head, which felt like an entire continent of oil drummers playing their song.

  “Listen up, and listen good,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Because I’m only going to say this once.”

  She didn’t so much as blink, though her bottom lip quivered slightly, no doubt from anger.

  He pulled in a deep, calming breath and continued, though what he really wanted to do was turn and walk away. Or maybe kiss some sense into her. She didn’t look like she’d been kissed much. And she should be.

  He shook his head. Only the thought of that colt and filly stopped him from doing something irrational—or maybe that was rational. And then just barely.

  “I wouldn’t hire someone who couldn’t do the job,” he said in a low monotone, struggling to keep his anger under wraps. “Not even for you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Maybe she’d made a mistake, but he didn’t have to get so huffy about it.

  Okay, so he’d been right. Again.

  A mere week had proven to Dixie the big grizzly named Ed McDonnell was a teddy bear inside, and the month that followed only served to further justify Erik’s choice in a foreman. Not only that, but Ed had a faith to rock mountains, and praised the name of Jesus loud and clear every chance he got.

  She liked him. She really did.

  And, she had to admit, if only to herself, he was an excellent foreman. Under Erik’s direction, he’d hand-picked a friendly, hardworking crew of five, all Christians, who’d cleared the messy building area within the first week and had laid the foundation for the new buildings within a month.

  She was impressed. Thank the Lord. God was obviously providing for her despite her many setbacks.

  Sometimes she wondered if she was deluding herself. But not now.

  The carpenters worked not only swiftly, but cheerfully, as well. Each of them had a smile and a pleasant greeting for her when she was around, sweeping off their variety of cowboy hats and calling her Miz Sullivan, to her delight.

  Men in Denver had never treated her so well, not with half the respect or graciousness these rough-around-the-edges country gentlemen showed. And carpenters in Denver did not wear cowboy hats.

  Over the course of the first couple of weeks, she’d shed her designer jeans for a pair of Wrangler jeans and tied her hair back in a ponytail. She could almost pass as one of the carpenters, as much dust and mud clung to her by the end of each day.

  The most laughable part of it was the pair of boots Erik bought her. She’d been mortified to wear them at first, as unfashionable as they were. But once they were broken in, she couldn’t imagine wearing anything else. They molded perfectly to her feet like a second skin. Why hadn’t anyone ever told her how comfortable a pair of cowboy boots could be?

  Maybe she should announce it to the world and start a new fashion trend. It would be the first time in a long time fashion was actually comfortable. She laughed at the thought. She’d changed so much in such a short time, and she didn’t regret any of it.

  After that first night, sleeping out in a tent didn’t bother her as much, especially after Erik fixed the tent so it wasn’t liable to fall over should a faint breeze occur some evening.

  It had taken a while, but she found she enjoyed living out of a tent, staying outside late, lying out in the dark with so many, many stars twinkling down on her, far more than she’d seen in Colorado with the city lights of Denver blotting them out.

  She had her food supply in tough plastic containers—and she now knew not to eat in or near her tent lest animals catch wind of it and think she was dinner—and the faithful Border collie who appeared as if by magic every night. She didn’t know where the dog came from or where she went afterward, but every night like clockwork, the Border collie returned to guard over her.

  She’d managed to cope.

  No. Much more than cope. Live.

  She was th
riving, healthy and flourishing on the inside and out, more than she could ever have imagined or hoped for.

  She put her management skills to work, as well. The first day the carpentry crew arrived, she’d set out to work right beside them. She wasn’t going to be the type of manager who ruled the roost without getting her feathers dirty.

  She wanted more than just a working crew. She wanted to create a family atmosphere, and most of all, a peaceful, Christian atmosphere.

  And she could only do that by giving it everything she had. She helped out whenever possible, though much of the work was beyond her ability and expertise.

  She hauled wood and water, held up poles and learned to sand wood, and cooked and served the men their evening meal.

  Okay, so cooking over an open fire wasn’t exactly her forte, along with so many other skills she was only now beginning to discover. Flames were tricky things, and she’d burned the fare more than once, though no one had complained.

  Erik had laughingly mentioned bringing in a cook to handle that aspect of the job, and soon.

  She didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted, though she knew he was only teasing. And it was a rare occasion when Erik said even that much, so she supposed she should be grateful.

  The stable was the first building raised, and Erik soon had it filled with horses and a stable crew working under him, forging mountain trails for future visitors and training the gentle horses to trail ride nose to tail, regardless of the equestrian skill—or lack of—in their riders.

  She’d been so busy with the plans and construction of the main lodge, she hadn’t had time to get down to the barn and greet her new staff. She was anxious to introduce herself and her goals, but quickly discovered the stable hands weren’t nearly as anxious to meet her.

  “We don’t take orders from a woman,” growled the first stable hand she approached. He had greasy, straw-colored hair and an attitude, Dixie noted, as he crossed his arms over an adolescent-thin chest.

  The other four boys followed the young man’s lead, crowding in around him and nodding vigorously.