Dakota Father (11 page)

He recognized the Bible verse. Another his mother had quoted often. “Says nothing about food.”

She chuckled. “But if I remember correctly, it does in the verse before that. Another verse says He has the hairs of our head numbered. He cares about us. He loves us.”

His heart yearned to believe wholly and simply as he had as a child. But life wasn't simple. Nor did it seem to be whole. “What about Lena dying? Did He care about that? Or Flora. Did He do anything about that?” His questions sounded soulful, as if he
wanted everything to be fixed, put back to his ideal. It couldn't be. A man simply had to make the best of things, roll with what life dealt.

She continued to hold his hand and without thinking what he did, he turned his palm to hers and inter-locked their fingers.

“I can't explain why bad things happen,” she said. “Maybe I don't want to. If I understood all the intricacies of life, the end from the beginning, the purpose of pain and suffering, why I think I'd be overwhelmed. I prefer to leave that in God's hands. He is all-wise, all-knowing and all-love. I choose to simply trust Him.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“In some ways it is.”

He wanted to believe, yet at the same time wanted to challenge her because he was certain there were areas where she didn't find trust any easier than he did. “Is it trust or fear that makes you let your father choose the direction of your life—pick your future husband?” He wanted her to confess it was fear and then choose to trust God enough to decide she needed and deserved a man who would honor her strengths. He wanted to be the one she chose, but even if she did that desire must be denied. As soon as Paquette felt better he would send her away—back to safety and sanity.

She twisted her hand away and wrapped her fingers
together in her lap to sit with her head bowed. “It is obedience. God says we are to honor our parents. I have learned to my disgrace the result of not listening to their counsel.”

Another hint of having done something she regretted, something making her fearful of following her strong nature. “I don't know what horrible thing you think you did. Maybe someday you'll tell me.” It couldn't be as bad as she thought. He captured a bit of hair that had escaped its bounds and played with it. “You are a strong–natured young woman who can boldly face risks and challenges. Yet you intend to pretend you are a docile woman content to follow the lead of your father and then, I suppose, this man you intend to marry. Jenny, I fear you will live a life of regret, always wishing you'd taken the riskier path, the one that led to adventure and—” He couldn't finish. Couldn't say what was in his heart.

He released the bit of hair, curled his fingers over his thumbs and squeezed until his knuckles protested. She would not be at his side. He would not allow it. Far better to know she was safe with another man than to see her spirit slowly die right before his eyes.

 

Jenny kept her gaze on her hands twisting in her lap. She'd never tell him what happened. Never confess it to anyone. It would remain tucked into a corner
of her thoughts. But the idea of being part of this great adventure warred with her determination. Her control was further threatened by the way his fingers brushed her neck as he played with a strand of her hair. Only once before had a man touched her. And that had been so unexpected she hadn't known what to do. It had ended frighteningly. She shuddered at the memory and jerked to her feet. “I'd like to check on Paquette then go to bed, if you don't mind.”

He nodded. “Sorry to be a bother.” He strode out without a backward look.

She hadn't meant to sound rude or dismissive, but she knew the risks of forgetting her upbringing.

She had difficulty falling asleep as memories twisted through her head, intermingling with worry about Paquette and wishes for things she could never have. Three times she rose and checked on Paquette, who jerked her head up and grumbled at being disturbed.

The morning sun woke her, assisted by Meggie jabbing fingers in Jenny's eyes.

Groaning, she sat up. She'd overslept. No sounds came from the kitchen. Was Paquette not up? She scrambled into her clothes, dressed Meggie hurriedly and let the child run ahead, her sore legs thankfully a thing of the past.

The kitchen echoed with quiet. “Wait here, Meg, while I check on Paquette.” She tiptoed to the
bedroom. Paquette curled in a ball snoring softly. Poor woman was tired. She'd let her sleep.

That left her to make breakfast for them all. She rubbed her hands in glee. An adventure.

Meggie seemed to remember her sore legs and whined.

Jenny settled her on the floor and handed her some pots and pans to play with while she cooked. A few minutes later she banged the iron bar, smiling at how it had been secured with a piece of stout wire nailed into place with a six-inch spike. Burke wanted to make sure she didn't send it flying in his direction again.

Her thoughts stuttered. She would miss all this when she left. She would miss the prairie, the big kitchen, ringing the bell…and Burke.

The men trooped in for breakfast.

“Where's Paquette?” Burke asked. “She's not—?”

“She's sleeping peacefully. No need to disturb her.”

He took in the food she prepared. “You did this by yourself?”

“I did.” Satisfaction made her words strong and round.

“And enjoyed it, I venture to say.” His eyes spoke approval and something more—a silent challenge.

She nodded. “It was fun.”

“As life should be, don't you think?”

His statement was reasonable enough, but she knew he referred to his argument of last night. He seemed to think she was running from things she would enjoy. Well, she was, knowing where such wild abandon, such reckless seeking after adventure led. Why had God made her thus? Or was it only temptation seeking to lead her into dangerous territory? Likely a bit of both, she thought.

His eyes narrowed and she realized she'd allowed him to see too much. He scooped Meggie off the floor and tickled her then put her beside him.

Jenny placed the heaping serving dishes on the table then sat in her customary place. She waited for someone to choose to say the grace, felt a flash of surprise when, without any prodding from the men, Burke announced he would.

He thanked the good Lord for Paquette's safe return and for good food for their hunger. “And thank you Jenny is here, capable of making us a great meal. Amen.”

She couldn't look up for fear he would see how his gratitude pleased her. She only did a job that needed doing. Yet it had been a challenge to get everything cooked and ready at the same time and in quantities large enough for the huge appetites of these men. She'd embraced the challenge. It had been fun.

She wouldn't get to do such things when she
returned home. No doubt Ted would hire a housekeeper when they got married. Jenny would be expected to entertain, perhaps be allowed to grow flowers, might occasionally help in the store, though she expected Ted shared Pa's opinion that women belonged in the home. How she would manage to keep boredom at bay she couldn't imagine, but Ma seemed to do so. She would likewise learn how.

But until then, she could enjoy this chance to expand her world.

The men left. Jenny did the dishes before Paquette staggered out, her clothes askew, half her hair hanging in her usual braid and the other half out as if she'd gotten sidetracked before she finished.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

Paquette ground to a halt beside Meggie, who had returned to playing on the floor. “Where baby come from?”

Alarm skittered up Jenny's arms. “This is Burke's niece, Meggie. We've been here for days, Paquette. Don't you remember?”

“Not see before. Not know you. Where I am?”

She allowed Jenny to lead her to her chair. “I'll get you coffee and breakfast.”

The older woman hunched over as if life had become too heavy to bear.

Jenny served her then played with Meggie so she could unobtrusively observe Paquette.

At first the woman stared at the food then picked at the bacon, but she eventually cleaned her plate and had two cups of black coffee—her usual morning routine.

Jenny eased out a sigh. Whatever had happened would right itself in time. She had to believe that. So why then did she feel a tiny trickle of excitement that for now, she had no choice but to stay and run the kitchen?

She made dinner while Paquette remained at the table, muttering from time to time or letting out long sighs. Other than that, she seemed unaware Jenny did the work she usually did, often refusing Jenny's assistance.

Burke smiled when the men came in to eat. “I see you're up and about, Paquette. You gave us all quite a scare when you didn't come home last night. What happened out there?”

“'Appen? Where?” She looked about as if he meant someone else.

Burke shot Jenny a questioning look. Jenny shook her head. He turned back to Paquette, who examined a spoon as if she had never seen one before.

As they ate, the men tried to engage Paquette in conversation, but she either didn't hear them or acted surprised that they should address her.

Burke waited until the meal was over. “Can I speak to you outside?” he murmured to Jenny.

“Of course.” She glanced toward Meggie.

“I'll watch her,” Mac offered.

“Thank you,” Jenny and Burke said at the same time. Jenny giggled.
Great minds think alike.

They crossed the veranda and walked toward the corrals. Ebony whinnied a greeting but Burke steered her away from that particular pen. “He's dangerous. Stay away from him.”

She thought it wise to omit telling him she visited him every day and had some very interesting discussions with the animal who proved to be an excellent listener.

They wandered to what she would always think of as their favorite place—the end of the trail that ran alongside the corrals until it disappeared into the open prairie.

He didn't mention the subject she knew was uppermost in both their minds until they came to a halt staring out at the blue-gray land under an endless, cloudless cornflower sky. “I'm worried about Paquette. If only there was a doctor nearby.”

“I'm sure she'll be fine in a few hours.”

He studied her, a slow smile lifting his lips. “Hoping is not the same as being sure.”

She lifted one shoulder. “How can I be sure?”

“Have you prayed?”

“No.”

“I thought you would have. This is surely one of those times when God needs to intervene.”

“Of course.” To her shame she hadn't prayed because she knew she had to stay as long as Paquette was so confused. It was a selfish, unchristian attitude. “I certainly will pray for her to get better.”

He squeezed her hand. “Me, too.”

A great ache engulfed her. His confession connected her to him in a way she didn't want to acknowledge but couldn't deny. If only she could stay here in this very spot and ignore the realities of her life. She couldn't. Right now Meggie needed her, the kitchen needed cleaning—all excuses allowing her to ignore the silent cries of her heart. She wished for a reason to make it impossible to ever leave.

“I better get back.” She should pull her hand from his but when he started back, still holding it tight, she made no effort to slip from his grasp. After all, they were both worried about Paquette.

What harm was there in letting herself enjoy comfort and encouragement from his touch?

B
urke reluctantly, determinedly, released Jenny's hand as they reached the house. He had to make arrangements for her to leave. Somehow they would manage without her. They must. For her sake. “I'm sending Dug to town for supplies. Is there anything you need?”

“I have letters to post. Paquette needed a few things. I'll make a list.”

This was an opportune time. For a heartbeat he thought of telling her to prepare to accompany Dug. It was on his mind to say the words but something entirely different came from his mouth. “Do you mind staying until Paquette is better?” He couldn't deny himself this reprieve. Besides, the truth was Paquette could not care for Meggie in her present condition.

Her eyes flared with what he supposed was
surprise. “Of course I will. Someone must care for Meggie.” She held his gaze.

He felt her searching deep inside his thoughts, though he couldn't guess what she hoped to find.

Then, even though she didn't move, she withdrew.

Disappointment seared his lungs, making his breath burn his lips in passing. It served to remind him of his intention—not to persuade her to stay but to see she left as soon as possible.

Over the next few days he watched Paquette closely. Often he caught her sitting at the table doing nothing, or perched on a chair on the veranda staring blankly into the distance. What happened out there to change her? Was her state permanent?

He closed his eyes against the treacherous note of gladness that until Paquette was better, Jenny had agreed to stay. It was wrong thinking on his part. He knew it. And his guilt drove him to Paquette's side where she sat on the veranda. “Paquette, how are you?”

“Fine.” A bowl of beads sat in her lap, and she sifted them through her fingers.

He turned so he could look in her eyes. Did he catch a flicker of sanity before she ducked away?

She scooped up a handful of beads and let them trickle to the bowl. “Pretty.”

Meggie ran outside. She noticed the bowl of beads and leaned over Paquette's knee. “Pretty.”

Burke studied the pair. Was he suddenly responsible for two people unable to care for themselves? So long as Jenny was here it wasn't a problem. But Jenny didn't intend to stay.

He didn't intend to let her.

As if his thoughts had beckoned her, she stepped outside and, seeing the three of them together, smiled. “What's so interesting over there?”

“Beads.”

“Ah. Paquette enjoys her beads, don't you, Paquette?” She joined them and stroked Paquette's head.

Again, Burke wondered if he detected a flash of something alert in Paquette's eyes, and then she leaned over and mumbled some unfamiliar-sounding words.

Meggie picked a bead from the bowl and popped it into her mouth.

Jenny jerked forward. “No, Meggie. Spit it out.” She held out her palm and waited for Meggie to obey. As she straightened, she met Burke's eyes. Paquette should have stopped Meg from putting a bead in her mouth.

Burke gave an acknowledging tilt of his head. Paquette could not be left in charge of Meggie unless she got better…until she got better.

That evening, they took their usual walk. Meggie scampered ahead, pausing often to examine a bug, a tiny flower or her footsteps in the dust.

Burke followed contentedly at a sedate pace, Jenny at his side. This was his favorite part of the day— sharing his love of the prairies with someone who seemed of like mind, enjoying his niece. More and more his love for her grew. He would do what he must in order to provide her with the best. Except send her away. They had only each other and he would not let her be taken elsewhere to be raised. Somehow they would manage. Surely Paquette would soon be back to her normal self.

He thought of those flashes in her eyes and wondered if Jenny had noticed anything. “Do you see any improvement in Paquette?”

She hesitated. “Sometimes I think she is getting better but then I think I've imagined it.”

“I get the same feeling. I suppose that's a good sign.”

She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“It's times like this I wonder where God is. Why He doesn't do something.”

“You mean like make her better?”

“Of course.” Why couldn't things be different out here? Not so challenging? Of course, it took the brave and strong to settle new lands. “Maybe I should sell
the ranch. Go east. Move into a town. Not back to the cities but someplace civilized.”

She spun around so fast that dust engulfed them. “Now why would you do that? I can't imagine you in a town, let alone a city.” She glanced about. “I can't imagine you leaving all this. Why would you even consider it?”

“For Meggie.” For Jenny. He couldn't ask her to live in the wilds. He snorted. Not that there was any point in asking her anything. She was set to marry the man her pa had chosen for her. Didn't matter where he lived, she wouldn't give him a second consideration. “Lena would want her raised to be a lady.”

“So teach her how to be a lady at the same time as you teach her to live like a pioneer. The two aren't mutually exclusive.”

He didn't answer. How could he? Yet he didn't want to live in town. Especially when it would make no difference to whether or not Jenny might consider him as a suitor.

“Besides, what would you do with Paquette? Leave her here to manage on her own?”

“I'd take her.”

“Can you honestly see her in town? She'd go out of her mind.”

“One night on the prairie seems to have done that to her already.”

“So you're going to give up on her. Why not send
her to the asylum?” Her eyes flashed with anger and something harder, more challenging.

She was calling him a quitter. Blaming him for sending Flora away. “I didn't put Flora in the asylum. The authorities did. For her own protection. Her parents signed the papers.”

She relented so fast the air rushed from her lungs. “I'm sorry. I had no right to say that. But it seems you expect all females to crack out here. It's a demeaning attitude, don't you think?”

He wanted to believe it could be otherwise. “If this land can destroy Paquette, do you think anyone can survive it?”

She crossed her arms and gave him a noble expression. “I certainly do. Women have pioneered alongside their men for centuries. Why is this situation any different?”

“It's the land.” He waved to indicate the space around them. “It's lonely. Godforsaken, many say.”

“And yet I feel like God is closer here than anywhere I've been. It's as if I have only to lift my hand heavenward to connect with Him.”

Her voice sounded so content, so happy. Her eyes sparkled.

When she realized he watched her, she laughed. “Sorry. I didn't mean to sound so full of fancy.”

“It isn't like you plan to stay.”

She stared out at the prairie for a long time, silent
and still. He wondered if she even breathed. Then she jerked in air. “No, you're right. I am going back home as soon as Paquette is better.”

“So this whole discussion is simply…what?” It didn't matter if she could survive the prairie or not. It didn't matter if he wanted her to stay or was convinced she must go. None of it mattered as much as the dust at his feet that would blow away overnight.

She flicked a glance at him. “I just don't want you making a mistake because you judge Meggie too weak to handle the challenges of this life.”

“So you think leaving the ranch would be a mistake?”

“If you do it for the wrong reason.”

He studied her. She kept her gaze on the horizon, though he knew from the way her lashes fluttered she was aware of his look. “Guess you'd know about doing things for the wrong reason.”

That brought her full attention to him in a hurry. “Are you accusing me of having faulty motives?”

“Don't you? Aren't your reasons for letting your father choose your mate based on fear instead of trust? Wouldn't you consider that the wrong reason for doing anything?”

She tore her gaze from him, leaving him burning with regrets.

“I'm sorry. It's none of my business. Except—” He wouldn't say he cared. Because it was too weak
a statement for the way he felt. Not that it mattered one hair. She meant to go home. And he would let her. Without a word of protest, knowing it was for her good.

“Come, Meggie. It's time to go back.” She took the child by the hand and hurried them home, pausing only long enough for a curt good-night before she left him standing on the veranda.

Paquette had gone indoors, too. Burke had nothing to make him stay. Except his own wayward wishes.

Which he would deny with every breath he drew.

 

Jenny managed to ignore her thoughts as she prepared Meggie for bed and checked on Paquette. Then she couldn't avoid them.
So you think leaving the ranch would be a mistake?
He'd meant for him. But the words twisted through her like a scouring brush, erasing all her excuses and reasons for going home. Never before had a place made her feel so alive and—as she said to Burke—so close to God. To her shame, she'd never felt for any man the things she felt for Burke—as if their thoughts completed each other's, as if their hearts beat to the same rhythm.

Oh Father God, forgive me for such traitorous thoughts. You saved me from myself once before. Do so again, I beg. Don't let me ruin my life by following my heart. Please, God, help me. Strengthen me.

She prayed for a long time until finally her spirit was submissive.

Yet when she rose the next morning she felt relief, tinged with sorrow, that Paquette continued to be so confused. And she realized she hadn't even prayed for the woman's healing.
Oh God, forgive me. I don't even realize how selfish I am. Please help Paquette get better.

Comforted by her faith, she hurried to make breakfast. She loved the challenge of coping with her limited supplies, the sheer bulk of food the men consumed and their enjoyment of everything she cooked. Thankfully she had observed Paquette at work and had insisted on helping despite the woman's initial protests, so she knew how to deal with the limitations.

She prepared the food and rang the bell. She wished she could avoid Burke but he crossed the yard with the others. Pushing her resolve into place, she vowed she would not meet his glance. But she couldn't resist and was disappointed when he had his face turned away from her. She stole looks several times during the meal. Each time he looked another direction. As if he didn't want to look at her. Couldn't bear to see her.

She couldn't blame him. He thought her weak because she intended to accept Ted's offer of marriage. Better safe than sorry. Only would she rather
be safe? And where or what was safe? Pa seemed to think it lay in letting him guide her along paths of his choosing. Not that she for an instant thought he had anything but her best interests in mind.

Burke seemed to think safe meant living in a sheltered, settled, developed place and yet choosing a man on her own.

And her? What meant safety for her? Did she even know?

“I'll be sending someone to town for supplies after breakfast.” Burke's reminder pulled her from trying to answer her own questions. “Anything you need?”

Happy for a chance to add a few things to the pantry, she said, “I'll make the list.”

Burke nodded and left before she'd even started the list. Mac returned for it a few minutes later.

Of course, she wasn't disappointed Burke had sent someone else. Why should she be? They both knew this was temporary.

It was late afternoon before Mac returned. He brought in the supplies she ordered and two letters from home. She set them aside to read after she'd put the things away. But knowing they awaited her, she hurried through the task.

Meggie played contentedly at her feet, pushing her rag doll into a pot and covering it with a lid, then
laughing when she pulled the lid away and the doll popped upright.

Jenny laughed at the little girl's play then turned her attention to the letters. She read the date on the postmarks and opened the earlier one first, reading notes from Ma, Pa and Sarah. Nothing but things she'd heard reiterated many times before she left.
Guard your tongue, but even more, guard your thoughts.
She'd tried. Perhaps not hard enough because she knew if Ma and Pa could read her thoughts, see how her heart responded when she was with Burke, they would be dismayed.

But she'd tried. Moreover, she intended to follow through on her promise to return and marry Ted. She'd adjust to her role in life.

Sighing, she opened the second letter. Her dismay grew with each line she read. It was as if Pa could see what she did even hundreds of miles away—proof he knew her better than she knew herself. A convincing reason to follow his guidance.

Daughter,
he wrote.
Reading between the lines, I see evidence that your bold spirit has raised its head again. Your boldness is good but must be moderated with wisdom and submission. I don't mean submission to us, as your parents, but to God. You must use your God-given wisdom to discern wise choices from those that seem more alluring, more exciting. I think I need not tell you how important this is. Here is what I think you must do. You must make arrangements
to return home posthaste. If you aren't satisfied Mr. Douglas's housekeeper can provide adequate care for Meggie at this time, consider alternatives. There are many, as I'm sure you're aware. Arranging for a nanny comes to my mind. But do whatever is necessary to complete your task. Do not let the temptation of new places divert you from what is best for you.

He closed as her loving father.

His words blazed through her heart like a hot coal, burning away her pretense, exposing her foolish wishes…wants, really.

Pa was right. She had been using Paquette's illness as an excuse to stay when there were other avenues to explore.