Bluebonnet Bride

by Jillian Hart

  “Gladly.”

  Linnea stopped breathing. Seth’s mouth softened as if he intended to lean forward and claim her lips with his. Then he pulled away and stood, jogging across the yard to the back steps.

  “I have forgotten how hungry a man working gets,” Mama trilled on, unaware of what she’d interrupted. “I fear we did not make a large enough breakfast for you, Major. You came in search of food, did you not?”

  “This ought to tide me over until supper time. Thank you.” Seth took the platter into his capable hands.

  “We did not have a large enough platter, so perhaps this will do as well. I hope you like the potato salad. Linnea made it from my mother’s recipe.”

  “Potato salad is one of my favorite things in the world.” Seth’s charm left Mama grinning ear to ear.

  He touched her sleeve and offered her his hand to help her down the stairs and across the lawn.

  “Here.” He tossed something into Linnea’s lap and flashed her that saucy grin of his, the one that left her unable to breathe. Then he strode back to the fields.

  “What did he give you?” Mama asked as she settled onto the bench.

  “A silver dollar.” Linnea didn’t know if she should take off after him and give the money back or smack him upside the head. “Payment for the day’s meals.”

  “Oh, that man!”

  Linnea couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter.

  * * *

  Seth snapped the reins, guiding the oxen down the shadowed road. He yawned. It was early, but he had the feeling he’d sparked Linnea’s curiosity. If he wanted to leave the flowers he’d picked, he figured he had to do it before she was awake.

  If only the rattling wagon didn’t make so much noise. Antelope leaped away in the fields. Some secret admirer he was, announcing his presence to the entire county.

  The Holmstrom farm lay quiet in the gray twilight just before dawn. He guided the oxen into the grass, where there were no ruts to rattle the wagon, and studied the house. The windows were closed and the curtains still drawn. Didn’t look like anyone was up yet.

  Victory.

  Then a movement caught his attention. A curtain was moving, as if someone in the parlor had released it suddenly. So she was up early and keeping watch for her admirer.

  Determined to outsmart her, he drove the oxen into the field, unhitched them and tethered them as usual. Then he gathered the fresh flowers from the wagon seat and hurried to the house, keeping out of sight of the windows the best he could.

  Yep, she was watching the front steps like a hawk. He laid the bouquet on the back porch in plain sight of the door and sneaked back the way he came. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the jug he’d brought and hunkered down to wait and watch.

  The sun gave birth to another day, bringing golden light to an awakening world. Deer grazed peacefully in the thigh-high grasses, and a prairie falcon circled high overhead, hunting for breakfast.

  He poured a second cup and savored the rich, biting flavor. Too bad he hadn’t brought any sugar.

  At last the back door swung open and Linnea froze in the middle of the tiny porch. Her long silken hair cascaded down her back, thick and unbound.

  When she knelt to collect the flowers, locks of gold tumbled across her face. His fingers itched to brush back her hair, lift her into his arms and kiss her until neither of them could think.

  She stood and her gaze shot straight to him. He was going to have to talk with a forked tongue to make her think he wasn’t her secret admirer. To his surprise, she ducked inside the house. He slurped his cooling coffee and, sure enough, she reappeared with a water bucket swinging from her hand.

  She was sure walking fast. She wasn’t smiling.

  He’d seen an angry woman before. But for all his experience, he’d never figured out the knack for dealing with an angry woman. He didn’t know what to do as Linnea marched straight toward him with her skirts snapping and golden hair fluttering in the wind.

  “Morning,” he greeted her.

  Wrong thing to say. Her pretty mouth compressed into a puckered line. “How long have you been sitting here on your behind?”

  “You ought to know. You saw me drive up.” A muscle jumped in her jaw. “You saw me looking out the window?”

  “Hell, he probably did, too, whoever that admirer of yours is. Must be why he came around back to leave the flowers.”

  “You saw him?”

  “Not exactly. I was pouring my coffee. When I looked up, I could see the flowers on the back porch, but nobody was around. Then you came out and saw the bluebonnets.”

  “From here. You could tell there were flowers on the step from here?”

  “Sure. Look.” He gestured with his cup toward the house.

  She sidled up beside him and squinted into the sun.

  “Can you believe he came and went and we never saw him?” He did his best to sound innocent.

  “Probably because he’s a sneak. A man of the worst sort.”

  “That’s likely to be true. He probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing the object of his affections talking about him like that.”

  “Oh? Is he nearby? Can he hear me right now?”

  “I suppose if he’s hiding on the low side of that knoll over there. Or in the field. This grass is so high all a man would have to do is kneel down. You wouldn’t see him.”

  “Just proves my theory. A man of the worst sort. He’s probably a liar, too.”

  “Probably.” He swallowed the rest of his coffee. “Want some? I brought another cup.”

  “Nice of you, but I have a secret admirer hiding like a snake in the grass. I wouldn’t want him to see me with you. He might get the wrong idea and stop leaving me flowers.”

  “He wouldn’t do that. A man with any sense would fight for a woman like you, Linnea.” He couldn’t hide his grin any longer so he dug around in the wagon bed for the other cup. “Since I know the identity of your beau, I know he’s an upstanding man.”

  “Upstanding? A sneak and a liar?” She quirked one brow.

  “Well, any man has his flaws.” He handed her the cup. “He’s a hard worker. Handsome fellow, too. Probably the best-looking bachelor in the county.”

  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” She held the cup while he poured. “Maybe when I finally meet him, I won’t like the way he looks. Maybe he has dark hair and I like blond.”

  “It’s a possibility. But keep an open mind. He’s obviously in love with you.”

  “Obviously?”

  “Sure.” He capped the jug. “A man doesn’t go courting for the fun of it. Marriage is too much torture for that.”

  She choked on the coffee. Her laughter chased away all his loneliness and her bluebonnet-blue eyes sparkled with quiet affection. “You are a bad man, Seth Gatlin.”

  “I try.” He wanted to wrap her in his arms and feel her against him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life making her laugh.

  She thrust the bucket at him. “Fill this for me, and I won’t charge you for breakfast.”

  “Sure. Do you like my coffee?”

  “You call this coffee?”

  “That’s what the outside of the bag said.”

  “I’ll show you coffee. Come with me.”

  * * *

  The next morning she was waiting for him even before the birds were awake. This time, she would catch him. She planned to sit on the knoll in the field where she could see both the front and the back step at once.

  Let Seth Gatlin try to fool her this time!

  The warm morning breeze whispered through the grasses as she chose a spot in the grass. Birdsong came with the gentle dawn. Sure enough, before the golden glow at the horizon became bright, two gray oxen pulled a wagon toward her house.

  Seth didn’t stop in the yard. He didn’t even glance at the windows to search for her as he guided his team into the fields. He stopped the animals at the end of the deep trench he’d dug from the well, a third of the way from the back do
or.

  There were no flowers in his gloved hands. He made no furtive glances toward the house. And it didn’t look like he’d noticed her sitting there on the incline where the grass didn’t hide her.

  He unhitched the oxen and picketed them. She liked the easy way he moved while he worked, and the muscles shaping the shirt he wore—the one she’d made for him. She’d never seen a shirt look so good on a man before, hugging the curving breadth of his shoulders and the corded strength of his arms. She sighed just a little.

  He grabbed a small jug and two battered tin cups and strode straight toward her. Had he known where she’d been sitting all along?

  “Morning, Linnea. Up early watching for your admirer, I see.”

  “I’m simply enjoying the dawn, Major.”

  “Major, is it?” He quirked one brow, towering above her, casting her in his shadow. “I figured I’d come over here early and watch for him with you.”

  “How kind of you, but I can’t see the house when you’re standing in the way.”

  “Sorry about that.” The corner of his mouth lifted and he didn’t appear contrite as he settled on the ground beside her. “He could have been standing right in front of you and you would have missed him again.”

  “It doesn’t look like he’s going to leave me any flowers this morning.”

  “Maybe he figured you’d be watching for him and so he outsmarted you. Since he’s the most handsome bachelor in the county, he’s probably the smartest, too.”

  “He sounds conceited.”

  “Nothing like that. He’s the nicest man you’ll ever come across. Want some coffee?”

  “No. I suffered through one cup and that’s enough torture for anyone. I can only hope my secret admirer makes better coffee than you.” She fought laughter. “I’ve got to draw some water for breakfast. I’ve got a morning full of chores ahead of me.”

  Seth poured steaming coffee into his battered tin cup. He’d teased her enough for one morning. “Anders Neilson ought to be coming along in a few minutes. He’s going to help me sink the pump and raise the windmill.”

  Linnea stood, her skirts rustling. “I can’t thank you enough for being so kind to Mama.”

  “I like your mother, but I’m not doing all this for her.”

  “Oh?” Her blue eyes widened and filled with hope.

  Before he could say another word, she snatched her bucket and stalked off toward the well.

  He had to admire the sway of her hips as she walked and the swish of her skirt against her nicely firm backside. The wind helped matters by blowing just right, making her dress cling against her long, lean thighs. She wasn’t wearing a petticoat, probably because of the heat, and he took his time enjoying the sight of her.

  When she was ready to let him, he was going to caress every inch of her. By the time he was done, he’d know her every curve and texture—the smooth weight of her breasts, the silken dip of her stomach and the heat of her thighs.

  Her unbound locks danced in the breeze and hid her face as she knelt beside the well. He waited for her reaction.

  She stared at him across the waving grasses and scooped up the bouquet of bluebonnets. He’d crept through the fields in the dark before dawn and left them on the well lid.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll catch him,” Linnea vowed when she swept past, flowers in one hand, the water bucket in the other. “You just wait and see.”

  He watched her go, already making plans.

  * * *

  The next morning there were bluebonnets in front of the barn doors, a thimble of gold tied to their stems. But she hadn’t been able to catch Seth leaving his gift. He arrived later with his wagon full of rattling pipe and Anders Neilson riding a bay gelding alongside him.

  Mama hurried out onto the porch to offer them breakfast, but they’d already eaten in town. With a quick wave, Seth led the way to the fields where they worked all morning.

  They didn’t stop at noon, even when she and Mama brought them heaping plates of food. The men took turns working while the other ate.

  It was baking day, to make matters worse. Linnea was stuck in the sweltering kitchen and she couldn’t sneak glances at him. It was hard to keep her mind from wandering as she formed the loaves into neat doughy logs and placed them in the greased bread pans. It was hard to keep a drop of hope from burrowing into her heart.

  He was leaving at summer’s end. He’d told her he didn’t want a wife.

  So, what did it mean? That he’d changed his mind? Or was he paying her a kindness and that was all?

  By the end of another week, Seth and Anders had raised the windmill, sunk the well pump, laid the pipe and brought water into the kitchen.

  As Seth drove away that evening, lifting his hat to her, she knew he’d be back early tomorrow with his bouquet of wildflowers.

  And she’d be waiting.

  * * *

  Seth slipped the note between the string and the gift box and realized his hands were shaking. No surprise, considering his stomach was tied up in a knot. He’d written and rewritten the note seven times. When she read it, what would her answer be?

  “Seth?” Ginny called from outside the shanty. “Are you in there?”

  “I’m here.” He grabbed his hat and plopped it over the gift. What he felt for Linnea was private, and he knew Ginny had her own reasons for not approving. “I bedded the cow down for the night. I’m glad you finally took to milking her.”

  “She seemed uncomfortable.” Ginny hesitated in the shadows just outside the cabin. “I felt sorry for her, and I knew you were busy. The crops are looking good.”

  “I’m no farmer, and I’ll be the first to admit it, but the wheat seems to be growing.”

  “Did you finish up your work at the rental property?”

  “Yes, the Holmstroms’.” He knew she was trying. He knew she was scared, but there was so little of the young girl he remembered in the woman who stood before him, clinging to the shadows. “Is the boy in bed?”

  “Yes. He wanted to know if you’re going to stay with us after the crops are in and sold.” Ginny leaned against the threshold, her need as tangible as the deepening shadows. “You are all that’s standing between us and going hungry. I know I was wrong before. About Linnea. You are a fine man, Seth, and I doubted your morals. I just couldn’t bear to think that woman could tug you away when Jamie and I needed you so much.”

  “I’m not going to move back into the house. You can be as polite and helpful around the farm as you want. You can keep quiet about Linnea, but it won’t change my mind. I can’t live with your sadness. It reminds me too much of my mother.”

  “Oh.” Ginny’s head bowed. “You’re a man. You wouldn’t understand, but marriage is hard for a woman. Hard in more ways than it’s possible to count.”

  “I had a happy home and a happy marriage. Don’t take the easy road, Ginny. I never struck my wife. I didn’t fill my home with anger and hurt. A woman isn’t a punching bag for everything that goes wrong.”

  “Well, I disagree,” she said quietly, her voice full of pain, her once-pretty face twisting with bitterness. “You’re a man. You have all the rights and the freedom. While a woman has to turn herself inside out trying to be what her husband wants until she has no pride left, just trying to make him love her.”

  “Love isn’t earned. It doesn’t judge and it doesn’t put down conditions.”

  “A man’s love does.”

  “Not all men’s.”

  Silence stretched between them like a barbed wire strung too tight. He pitied his sister her marriage, thinking Jimmy McIntyre’s leaving could be the best thing that ever happened to her. Then Ginny shifted and the boards beneath her shoes moaned.

  “You fixed up the place well enough. At least you have a roof that won’t leak.” She rubbed her sleeve cuff across her brow as if her head ached. “I invited Sidney Johanson to Sunday dinner tomorrow after church. She’s a good woman, Seth.”

  “Ginny—”

  “I kn
ow you don’t want to hear this, but I’ll say it anyway. If you wind up marrying the right kind of lady and staying here permanently, I wouldn’t mind at all, since I’m not sure I can run this ranch by myself come next spring.”

  “I’m not listening, you know.” He said it tenderly, because he knew the shadows that haunted his sister’s heart. And a childhood that knew too much of poverty and the end of a willow switch.

  “Well, it was worth a try. Good night, Seth. I know I haven’t said it enough, but thank you.”

  “Good night, Ginny.” He waited until she was gone before he ambled out into the night.

  It was a lover’s moon, big and round and shining like a dream. Fistfuls of stars twinkled across the heavens, flickering night after night without end, always battling the dark.

  Like a man’s heart, he supposed.

  Or a man’s fortune.

  Tomorrow he would find out one way or the other how his luck would fall. If there would be a light that forever burned. Or if there would be darkness.

  Chapter Ten

  Where was he? Linnea had been watching the yard since before sunup, and still there was no sign that he’d been here. No flowers and no flash of his impudent grin as he tried to outsmart her.

  The sun blazed above the horizon, bright on a world of rustling grasses and fragrant prairie. Wildflowers streaked color through the fields as she tried to keep an eye out for him while she worked.

  Plunk. The tin bucket flew out of her hand. Milk splashed across the front of her skirts and onto the dusty ground. The spray-legged, knobby-kneed calf hopped back a few steps in alarm and bawled at the top of its powerful lungs.

  “Easy, little one.” Linnea held out her hand, and the doe-eyed calf raced back to the safety of her skirts. She rubbed velvety ears until the animal was comforted and then retrieved the pail. “Next time, don’t butt the bucket.”

  The calf bleated and rammed his head against the pail.