Blessing in Disguise (35 page)

And I do
, a quiet voice said.

“I know that, or I’d be so terrified right now. I’d . . . I’d . . .” She sighed. “This is going to be a long night.” She rested her forehead on her knees.

She must have dozed, because she jerked when the horse pulled on the reins again. She moved over to another tree, which afforded the filly more grazing, and Augusta settled herself again in her warm cocoon. “Thank you for holding back the rain.” She thought of other things to be thankful for and began listing them. Kane appeared at the top of the list. He
had
been good to her.
But married?

She rested her cheek on her knees again. What would it be like to be really married to him?

“All right, Augusta Bjorklund, get back to finding things to be grateful for.” Her list continued. She jerked again at the intrusion of her horse. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be on foot come morning. If morning ever came again. She knotted the reins together at the very end and slipped her hand through the loop. Now if she fell asleep, the horse would wake her up.

Head down, she dozed under the blanket.

“Augusta! Augusta!” It was her father, Gustaf, calling. Ah, the dream was so real. “I’ve missed you so, Far.” She could feel tears burn at the back of her eyes. And here she’d brought more pain to her mother. “Ah, me.”

“Augusta!”

The filly whinnied, jerking Augusta totally awake. When an answering whinny came from the direction of the road, Augusta leaped to her feet.

“Over here.” Could they hear her over the wind? She screamed at the top of her voice. “Here!”

A radiance, a lamp lit against the darkness, preceded them as Kane and Lone Pine rode into her sanctuary.

Kane hit the ground running. He flung his arms around her and gathered her into the warmth of his chest. “You foolish, foolish girl. Whatever came over you?” His voice took turns at harsh and hugging. “Are you all right?”

Augusta burrowed into his warmth. Like God above, he had come for her, not leaving her to suffer her own stupidity, not waiting for her to come back, penitent and broken.

Kane had come for her.

While Kane alternately cussed and cuddled her, Lone Pine built a fire.

Augusta raised a tearstained face to seek answers in Kane’s eyes. In the feeble light from the lantern and the barely flickering fire, his eyes were shadowed, his brows a straight line. She could see the slashes that had deepened in his cheeks. The bare light made them more so.

“I-I’m sorry.” If only she knew the words in English. Would he understand?

“Augusta Moyer, you gave me the fright of my life.” He gave her a bit of a shake for emphasis. “Whatever possessed you to—” He stopped at the look of bewilderment he saw before him and gathered her back to his chest instead. What couldn’t be said with words could surely be shown with arms.

Augusta looked over his shoulder to see the moon, like a promise, peeking from the thinning bank of clouds. She sighed. Now how would she get to Blessing? Or send her mother a letter?

Once they’d had some food and hot coffee, Lone Pine put the fire out, and they mounted their horses again. But when he led the way past the spring and not back on the road, Augusta shook her head.

“No, we go that way. I know I’m not that confused.”

“Ranch this way.” Lone Pine indicated the swale between two hills.

Kane reached across between the horses and touched her arm. He pointed in the same direction as Lone Pine had. “Ranch this way.”

She shrugged and shook her head again. She knew what they meant and surely they knew the land better than she, but still she was confused.

After riding for what seemed half the night, though she knew it had been only an hour or two, they trotted into the ranch yard. Morning Dove came to the door with a lantern and a spate of words that Augusta had no intention of trying to figure out. By taking the left hand of the fork, she must have ridden in almost a full circle. Grateful on one hand that they’d found her and disgusted with herself on the other, she dismounted, ignoring Kane’s offer of assistance.

But when her knees turned to jelly, she gratefully slumped against his arms. Instead of letting her go when her legs got their strength again, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the house. After laying her on the bed, he gave her a stern look.

“Now, stay there.” He added “please” as an afterthought. When she nodded, he smiled down at her. “I will take you to Blessing if you absolutely must go.”

She understood “I will take you to Blessing” and the rest didn’t much matter.

“Mange takk—er—thank you.”

She should be overjoyed. Instead she felt a terrible sense of letdown. Maybe by now he didn’t want her to stay. She’d been far too much bother, and now he was willing to be rid of her. She forced a smile to lips that quivered. “Th-thank you.”

“You sleep now, and we’ll talk in the morning.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek before leaving the room.

Augusta put her hand to her face. Perhaps he did care. She undressed, slid her nightdress over her head, and was asleep before she could blow out the candle.

She slept through the rooster crowing. She slept through the dog barking. But the sound of her brother’s voice jerked her straight up in bed. Her feet hit the floor before her mind jolted into motion.

“Hjelmer! What is Hjelmer doing here? Surely there can be no other that sounds precisely like him. Maybe I was dreaming.” All the time she muttered she was washing, dressing, and combing her hair. When a knock came on her door, she was just twisting her hair into a knot to pin at the base of her head.

“Augusta, are you all right?” How sweet the Norwegian sounded to her ears, her very own dear brother’s voice.

“Ja, I am fine.”

“Are you decent?”

“Ja, I am dressed. Give me a moment. How did you find me?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you on the way to Ipswich.”

She flinched from stabbing her tender scalp with a hairpin. “Ipswich? But I . . .”
He doesn’t want me after all. Kane doesn’t want me
. She choked back a sob. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

Chapter 32

The Ranch
October 5

“But I am already married.” Kane looked from Hjelmer to the woman beside him.

“Are you sure?” Hjelmer wore an expression of utter consternation.

Kane felt like walking out of the room. If these people had not been his guests, he would have. “If you mean, did we have a ceremony— yes. The justice of the peace married us in Ipswich when Augusta got off the train. I believed she was”—he nodded toward the woman standing slightly behind Hjelmer—“Miss Borsland, who had agreed to be my bride. I would not travel so far with an unmarried woman. It would not be proper.” The slight curl of his lip said what he thought of Hjelmer for doing exactly that. He heard the crinkle of the letters being smashed by Hjelmer’s hands as if they were alive. What a shock to find two people on his front porch with the two letters in hand— one offering to buy some horses, the other . . . well, the other was what they were discussing.

For moments the toe of his boot took all of Kane’s concentration. “And if you mean, has the marriage been . . . been . . .” He could feel his ears growing hot, knowing that their redness must signal his uncomfortable state. “I will just say that we did not share a room.”
Nor a bed, and now it might be too late
. He refused to let himself think of that first night home when he’d awakened to find a screaming harridan on his hands. The thought still made him smile. Augusta in full battle mode was something to see.

Miss Borsland made a strangled sound and rolled her eyes.

Kane caught the motion and then glanced up to see Augusta standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The questioning look on her face made him want to rush to her side.

Hjelmer saw her at about the same time. He crossed the room and took both her hands in his. “Ah, Gussie, I am so—” He stopped at her slight withdrawal. “All right, Augusta, sorry. I forgot. It is so long since I’ve seen you that I was beginning to doubt I ever would.” He tucked her hand under his arm and brought her into the room. “What a mix-up this is. Here I’ve been over half of Minnesota and now South Dakota to find you. Mor never gave up hope that you were still alive.”

“I . . . I feel so foolish. I just didn’t understand the man at the station in St. Paul, and then when I got off the train, I thought . . .” She paused and sent a beseeching look to Kane, but he didn’t meet her gaze. “I thought Kane was saying he would take me to Blessing.”

“But why did you marry him?” Hjelmer’s voice rose a bit as she shook her head.

“I thought it was for my American citizenship, that we were signing my citizenship papers.”

Hjelmer groaned and tapped the heel of his hand on his forehead. “Augusta Bjorklund, I never . . .” He shook his head again. “Well, all that matters is that you are safe, and within the next two days you will
finally
arrive in Blessing.”

“But what about me?” Asta sat forward on the chair she’d taken waiting for Augusta to join them.

“Excuse me.” Hjelmer nodded to her. “Augusta, this is Asta Borsland, the
real
mail-order bride destined to union with Mr. Moyer here.”

“But I am already married.” Kane enunciated clearly, having understood the gist of what was being said. He could feel his jaw tightening. Who had given this unwanted visitor the right to take over like this? He stared at Augusta, willing her to look at him.

Hjelmer interpreted Kane’s words for Miss Borsland.

“I’m aware of that.” Miss Borsland sheathed her words in hoarfrost. “As you can tell by my letter, I was unavoidably detained.”

Hjelmer continued to interpret the words back and forth.

“But I didn’t receive the letter.”

“I’m aware of that, sir, but what are we to do about this confusion now? We had an agreement, as you well know.” Asta locked her hands firmly in her lap.

All I care about is Augusta. You can go wherever you want. It makes no nevermind to me
.

“Coffee is ready.” Morning Dove appeared in the doorway and gestured toward the table.

“Thank you.” Kane turned back to his guests. “Please excuse my poor manners.” If his words sounded as stilted as he felt, they must realize they were welcome about as much as a horde of locusts before harvest.

Conversation not only didn’t come alive, but what was contributed lay on the table like a dying fish no longer even flopping about.

When Morning Dove offered to refill cups, she was met with headshakes all around.

Augusta couldn’t finish her first cup. It had pooled like pond sludge in the bottom of her stomach.
So what do I do now? On one hand, I’m married. On the other hand, it’s not been much of a marriage, not a real one at all. And the way Kane is about to break his coffee cup by glaring at it, I doubt there is much hope there
.

Kane felt like slamming his hand on the table until the cups and saucers bounced.
If only she would say what she wants. If only we could have a few minutes alone together . . . rather, a few years
. He amended his thoughts.
Many years, a lifetime. But she looks so sad. Why? Her brother has come, and now she will go to her mother, to that Blessing place she has been so insistent upon
. He studied her covertly, making sure she was not aware of his gaze.
But why is she so sad?

“The only thing I can see that should be done is for me to take the two women back to Blessing with me,” Hjelmer said in both languages so all could understand.

“But I have no money for a ticket,” Asta said with a humph.

“I assumed that might be the case.” Hjelmer glanced at Kane.

Kane clamped his hands together under the table and sealed his mouth.
If he thinks I’m paying for her ticket, he can think again. I already paid for one fare clear from Norway, and by the looks of things, I will end up alone—again
.

The silence stretched clear to Monday.

Hjelmer took in a deep breath. “That is settled, then. I will take Augusta home with me, and Miss Borsland can go on from St. Paul with us or stay there, as she wills.” He looked sideways to his sister. “Since I know that you have few belongings here, you will be ready in about ten minutes or so, right?”

Kane, help me!
Augusta pleaded inwardly. But he was staring at the tablecloth as if counting every fiber. Augusta felt like a puffball ground under the heel of a boot. “Ja, I will be ready.” She spoke in Norwegian. Speaking in the little English she knew would take far more than she had to give at the moment.

Perhaps this was for the best after all. But why had God brought her clear out here only to take her away again?
Silly, it wasn’t God who brought you out here; it was your own stupidity
. She had to believe the inner voice was right. Once on her feet, she shot Kane another imploring look.

He refused to look up.

Augusta sucked in a deep breath and spun on her heel. If that was the way it was to be, so be it. Kane could . . . could—she couldn’t think of anything vile enough.

Within the prescribed ten minutes, she had gathered her things and stuffed them in her carpetbag, said good-bye to Morning Dove and Lone Pine, and climbed up onto the wagon seat, leaving the back for Miss Borsland. Or she could walk behind the wagon, for all Augusta cared.

Kane was nowhere to be seen.

“We should at least tell him thank you.” Hjelmer stared around at the barn and outbuildings.

“If you don’t turn the horses around right now, I will.” Talking was hard between teeth clenched so tight they ground together. Augusta’s jaw hurt.

“Mr. Bjorklund, I can’t possibly sit back here without even a blanket.”

Augusta leaped from the wagon seat, marched over to the barn, and tore a saddle blanket, so sweat-filled it stood alone, off a saddle. She threw it in the back of the wagon and climbed back up the wheel. “Now go.”