Dakota Father (8 page)

“I ride.” She pulled at his hand, urging him to come.

“It's settled then.” He paused at Jenny's side. “We'll be back for dinner.”

“Dinner?” she murmured. That was five hours away.

“Sooner or later we have to learn to get along without you. Best get at it.” He strode away, his words like bees stinging at her thoughts. Plainly, he couldn't wait for her to leave.

“Man not know babies,” Paquette mumbled.

Her words did nothing to soothe Jenny's concerns. But she was powerless to stop Burke from taking Meggie anywhere he chose. As she helped Paquette clean the kitchen, she watched Burke ride from the yard, Meggie perched in front of him babbling away excitedly.

Burke noticed her at the window and nodded curtly.

She ducked her head and gave undue attention to the pot she scrubbed. Of course she had to leave. The sooner the better. But for him to be so eager for it….

Well, what did she expect? From the first day, even before he'd known who she was, he'd said this was no place for a woman. Seems he still believed it.

Not that it mattered. She had other plans.

But the ache filling her almost drove her to her knees. She rushed to her room and flung herself on the bed to gasp for air. Finally calm, she prayed for God's strength to guide and uphold her.
And keep Meggie safe. Help her adjust to her new life.

On the other hand, if this went as poorly as Jenny feared it would, perhaps it was God's way of showing Burke he couldn't manage without a wife. Maybe if things didn't go well, he would consider being reconciled to Flora.

She fell back on the bed and again struggled for composure.

 

Meggie squirmed in Burke's arms, wanting to pet his mount. He held her so she could do so and she laughed.

“This is going to work out just fine, isn't it, Meg peg?” The two of them riding the range together, enjoying the land. She'd grow up to be a real little cowgirl.

They flushed out a pair of partridges.

Meggie squealed. “Birdies.”

“Partridges. Good to eat.” He pointed out other birds. An antelope watched them then raced away.

Meggie laughed and jabbed her finger in the general direction, almost falling from his arms in her excitement.

“Careful, little one.” He chuckled. This was going to be a great morning. “Let's go find some cows.”

“Cows?” She looked around. “No cows.”

“Soon.” Well-being slowly eased away the knot in his thoughts he'd been dragging around like something caught on his spur. But there remained twin ropes of regret and hopelessness that tightened every time he thought how Jenny would soon be able to go home to her Ted.

He would not let disappointment turn the day sour and urged his horse to a faster gait.

Meggie giggled as she bounced.

“You're a natural little cowgirl.”

They rode up an incline and he stopped to look around, trying to pinpoint clusters of cows. “Down please.”

“Not yet. See those cows way over there? We'll stop when we get to them.”

Meggie stiffened. “Down.”

“Not yet, Meggie.” She wasn't used to riding. He'd let her take a break when they reached the little grove of trees where some cows grazed.

Meggie settled back for the ride. A good kid. She'd adapt quickly. Before they reached their destination, she started to whine. “Want down. Want down.”

“Soon.”

His promise did not make her patient. By the time they reached the trees, her fussing had sent the cows racing away. Burke struggled to hold her. He swung from the saddle, scarcely able to keep her from squirming out of his grasp until he reached the ground.

She staggered a few feet as if her legs had forgotten how to work and then ran in wide circles waving and yelling. Something about her excitement reminded him of Jenny. She'd lifted her arms to the skies the first day she arrived at the ranch. Was it excitement she felt? She'd said it was presumptuous on his part to think all women would fail on the prairies. He'd thought long and hard on that. What did she mean? But there was no point in trying to decide if she
thought she could be different. She'd be leaving as soon as possible and return to her Ted, handpicked for her by her pa. She wasn't any different than Flora. Flora retreated to a madhouse. Jenny would retreat to her father's plan and protection.

“Come on, Meg. It's time to move.” He wanted to check the watering holes and run his eyes over the cattle and make sure they were all well.

Meggie dropped to the ground and wailed. “I want Mama.”

Burke stared at the sobbing child. How did one deal with her cries for a mama she would never again see? Where did one get wisdom for such a situation? He could almost hear Jenny's voice telling him God was concerned with the details. He didn't buy it because if it were true, where was Lena? And why was Flora where she was?

He scooped the child into his arms and ignored her protests as he swung into the saddle.

After a moment she settled, glancing about with interest. He let out air that had grown stale in his lungs. This was all strange to her but she'd adjust.

A few miles later though, she started to squirm. “Go home. Wanna go home.”

“Not yet. Soon.”

She wailed. She threw her head back. Her cries intensified. He remembered her behavior on the train and his admiration for Jenny grew. How had she
coped hour after hour? He didn't know if he could manage until noon. A glance toward the sun informed him he had at least two hours to go.

Never had a morning promised to be so long.

His leg suddenly felt warm. He lifted Meggie and saw a dark spot growing on his jeans. She'd wet herself. And him, too. “Meggie, why didn't you say something?”

She hung her head and sobbed.

“Never mind. We'll both just have to endure it until we get home.”

An hour later, he admitted defeat and turned the horse toward the ranch. He thought he'd never get back. A hundred yards from the house Meggie's cries brought Jenny to the veranda, Paquette peering over her shoulder mumbling about the poor baby. At least Jenny held her tongue though her eyes spoke accusation. Lucky came to the barn door and shook his head as if to say Burke was a cruel guardian.

“She needs clean clothes.” He handed the squalling child to Jenny. The smell had grown pungent. He reined around and headed for the bunkhouse. He needed a bath and clean clothes, too.

Lucky backed out of sight as Burke rode toward the corrals. “Look after my horse,” Burke called, knowing the man could hear him even if he pointedly avoided him.

An hour later, he tramped back to the house
feeling restored by a soak in the metal tub behind the bunkhouse and a set of clean clothes. He took his place at the table. Mac was away tending to work but Dug and Lucky sat at the table, their gazes carefully averted. Jenny wasn't so cautious. The look she sent him practically left a brand. He sighed. “Who is going to say grace?” They'd all taken turns except him.

No one volunteered.

“Guess it's about your turn, boss,” Lucky said, when it became apparent no one else was offering.

“Me?” The men gave him an unyielding stare. Jenny's gaze challenged him. Even Paquette silently warned him to expect no sympathy from her. He knew what was going on. They were all angry with him for making Meggie miserable. “Very well.” He bowed his head. He didn't feel a lot of gratitude. Truth was, he didn't know exactly what he felt. God had been relegated to the ruler of the universe. Not concerned with the details of life. Yet didn't saying grace imply acknowledgement of His hand in the most basic of needs—food?

Lucky cleared his throat, reminding Burke they all waited.

Burke searched for something appropriate to say, remembered a verse his mother had taught him. “Heavenly Father, kind and good, thanks we offer for this food—” There was more—
for thy love and
tender care, for all the blessings that we share
—but he couldn't give voice to the words. He had once believed them. No more. Was it because of Flora? Suddenly he realized he'd stopped thinking life was so simple after his parents died. That's when he began to doubt God's tender care. The events since had only served to entrench his belief more firmly. “Amen.”

“Food be cold,” Paquette complained but everyone else dug in without comment.

Burke, for his part, was content to eat without enduring any conversation. It had been a difficult morning. As if to emphasize the failure of his experiment, Meggie wouldn't meet his eyes or respond to anything he said.

It didn't require anyone to point out Meggie wasn't ready for accompanying her uncle on long rides. But he knew from the unblinking looks Jenny gave him she wouldn't be letting the episode go without saying something.

Somehow he suspected he wouldn't care for her observations. He sighed. Seemed the afternoon would be as unpleasant as his morning.

M
eggie should have fallen asleep instantly but she fussed like she had the first day, as if reminded of all she'd lost. Jenny rubbed her back and sang to her. When she finally gave in to sleep, Jenny was exhausted but she had a task to tend to. She'd prayed God would use this to show Burke how much he needed a wife. Now she had to make sure Burke understood that's what it meant.

A glance out the kitchen window revealed no one about. No doubt Burke guessed she would tackle him on his outing with Meggie and had ridden off for the day. Well, he might delay it but he wouldn't avoid it. Sooner or later they must talk.

In the meantime she needed some company. She grabbed a carrot from the bin and headed to the corrals and her new friend. She'd named the big black
horse Ebony. As she approached the pen, Ebony whinnied.

“Hello, big boy. Glad to see me, are you?” He seemed eager for her visits but still shied away from touching. Today she hoped to overcome his fear. She held out the carrot. “Look what I have for you. Come on.” The horse quivered as he took a step closer. “That's a boy.” Slowly, as she murmured, he crossed the pen, stopped almost within reach then raced away. “Come on. You know you want it.” She shook the carrot. Again he started toward her. She talked softly. “Sometimes a person just has to confront their fears to discover they're all a mirage.” That's what she hoped Burke would discover. Surely if he gave Flora another chance they could work things out. Ebony's lips brushed her fingers. Laughter bubbled up but she closed her mouth and held it in for fear of frightening the horse away. He took the carrot. She touched his muzzle. He quivered but didn't run. “Oh, you are a pretty thing, aren't you?” She ran her hand up his warm neck and scratched along his jaw.

“What do you think you're doing?” Burke roared.

She hadn't heard him approach and his angry voice made her yelp and jump. Ebony reared away snorting and tossing his head.

“Can't you see he's a renegade? He'd as soon stomp you as let you pass. Why, if this isn't just like
a woman. Can't leave 'em a minute without them getting themselves into trouble.”

Her alarm gave way to anger at being scolded as if she had done something so foolish it defied explanation. “We were doing just fine until you came along yelling your fool head off.”

He grabbed her elbow and dragged her away from the pen. “Are you out of your head? He's a killer.”

“Phew. He's a pet. Watch.” She yanked from his grasp and headed for the pen. “Come on, Ebony. I won't let him hurt you. Come on, pretty boy.”

She made two steps before Burke practically jerked her off her feet.

“Don't you ever listen to advice?” He scowled so hard his eyebrows almost touched.

She wondered if her own brows did the same. “I listen when the person giving it knows what he's talking about.” She planted her fists on her hips and leaned forward. “You obviously do not.”

He refused to give an inch. “Right. I've been ranching for four years and you? How long now?”

“Fine. If we're going to talk about experience let me ask you, how long have you been caring for two-year-olds? How many do you know who ride all day?”

He snorted but did not yield.

Her conscience pushed at her anger. This was no
way to convince him of what he needed to do. But right now she wanted only to—

To be part of his life.

Her anger fled—all fight defeated. She was never going to be that. “You're right. I sometimes forget to listen to advice.” She'd paid for it in the past. Vowed she wouldn't pay for it in the future. “Pa is often telling me to listen to those older and wiser.”

“I guess that explains why you're letting him choose your husband. Afraid to follow your heart. However—” He leaned closer so she felt each word on her cheeks. “That's not the same thing at all.”

She fought her rebellious spirit and won. “But sometimes it is.”

“Care to explain what's behind that statement?”

“I do not.”

He snorted, sounding an awful lot like Ebony. Both afraid of too many things, both hiding it behind a tough exterior. “Should have guessed you'd be too self-controlled. A real lady. All eastern ways.”

Fire burned through her veins at his mocking. It stung her eyes. “You know nothing about me.”

“So tell me. What makes you so set on doing exactly what your father decides is best for you?” His voice softened. “Jenny, what do
you
want?”

His quiet question almost loosened her tongue. But what did he care what she wanted? Besides, what did she want except to see Meggie settled happily? Her
anger died as suddenly as it flared. “Do you have time for a little walk?”

“Sure.” He answered too quickly. Did he think she would answer his questions?

They turned down the path and headed away from the buildings. Jenny didn't speak, not certain how to broach the subject.
Father God, give me the right words. Help me say only what helps.

They paused as they reached the end of the corrals. Jenny looked around, letting the wide-open spaces lift her heart and carry it along, soaring above the fragrant grass, almost touching the clouds. “I could never get tired of this view.” She hadn't meant to speak the words aloud and rushed on before Burke noticed. “You said I should listen to advice. Are you willing to do the same?” She turned so she could watch his reaction. Caught a flash of something warm and promising before he understood her question and his expression turned cautious.

“I listen if it's wise.”

“I don't claim to be wise but may I offer some advice anyway?” She didn't wait for his nod but appreciated it when it came. Willingness on his part made what she had to say easier. “I think you can see Meggie isn't ready to be a cowboy.” Again a reluctant nod. “She needs a mother. Can I be so bold as to suggest you contact Flora and ask her to reconsider?”

No mistaking the dark thunder in his expression. “I'm afraid that's totally impossible.”

“Nothing can be that bad. Whatever your disagreement, if you talk I'm sure you can resolve things.”

He sucked in air until she feared he'd sweep up the dust from the trail. Then he let it out in a gust that would surely move leaves if there had been any on the path. “In this case I am sorry to say you are wrong. It is that bad.”

She shook her head preparing to argue.

He grabbed her elbow and shook her gently. “Flora is in an asylum.” His eyes were cold though she detected pain behind the anger.

“Asylum?” Sick or—

“She's insane.”

Jenny gasped. “No.”

“I was returning from my last visit to her that day on the train.”

She thought how she'd been attracted to him even then, knowing it was wrong of her. And though it was still wrong, her heart reached for him in a way that both frightened and thrilled her.

“Her parents were there. They told me not to come again. My visits visibly upset Flora. They said a lot more.”

At the pain in his voice, she squeezed his elbow, felt his tension. Oh if only she could somehow ease his sorrow.

“They blamed me but no more than I blame myself. From the beginning she was afraid of the prairie. Said it was too lonely. Too empty. Said it sucked at her insides. I wouldn't listen. I figured she'd get used to it. Instead—” He shook his head. “It was awful. The way she screamed and wailed. It took two men to get her into a buggy. The last sound I heard was a shriek. I will never forget it.”

“That explains why you think this country is no place for a woman.”

“It isn't.”

“Oh, Burke. Not everyone sees lonely and empty when they look out there.” Without breaking eye contact she tilted her head toward the prairie. “Some find it exciting.” She stopped. Explaining her reaction to the land would serve no purpose. “Don't blame yourself. Don't condemn others.”

His gaze drove deep into her soul as if seeking healing.

“Burke, don't give up on the future. Not now when you have Meggie to consider. The future is full of wonderful possibilities.” She pushed aside regret that her future was set by the desires of her loving parents. She would no doubt find it satisfying once she adjusted. “You're a good man, Burke Edwards. Don't forget it.”

The hunger in Burke's gaze slowly grew. “You almost make me believe.”

“Believe. It's true.”

He studied her mouth and lowered his head.

She knew he intended to kiss her. Knew she should back away, refuse it. But he needed the comfort and reassurance a little kiss would give and she lifted her mouth to meet his.

His lips were warm, gentle, questioning.

She leaned into him, his arms at her elbows anchoring her. He tasted of sage and sunshine, strength and adventure. To her shame she clung to him, seeking more.

This was wrong. It took every ounce of self-control, memory of every well-taught lesson to pull away.

His hands on her elbows kept her from fleeing.

She kept her head down, staring at the ground between them as guilt washed through her in waves.

“Jenny?”

She backed away. “I didn't come out here to be kissed.” Or to kiss.

“Oh.” He grinned. “What did you come for?”

She intended to convince him to reconcile with Flora. That was out. But Meggie's need was still the same. “You need to find someone to care for Meggie.”

He caught her arm, his fingers burning through
the fabric of her dress, shredding her resolve. “I have the perfect person in mind.”

She knew he meant her and surprise and sorrow intermingled. It would be a good solution for Meggie's needs. It hurt Jenny clear through to contemplate leaving the little girl. She would think no further. She controlled her thoughts so her eyes would reveal nothing. “Good. Who?” She tried to inject a teasing note to her voice and wondered how successful she'd been.

“You.” He gently rubbed her arm making it impossible to think clearly.

“Me?” She croaked the word.

“You're perfect for the job. Meggie knows you. You and Paquette get along. Dare I think you even like the prairies? A rare thing indeed.”

She couldn't look at him, knowing her hopes showed on her face, naked and raw, aching to be acknowledged. She could not allow them freedom and closed her eyes.
Father God, help me. Give me strength.

Slowly her world returned to normal and she faced him squarely. “I can't. Ted—”

“Ted.” He spat the word out. “Your father's choice.” The pain in his eyes almost melted her resolve. “You won't tell me what you want. Or do you even know? Maybe you're too weak to have an opinion. Like I said. This is no country for weak women.”

Originally it had been women in general. Then women from the East. Now it was weak women and that's how he saw her. If only he knew how hard it had been for her to learn to be submissive. But that was a story she would never share.

He spun around on his heel. “Forget it. We will manage fine on our own. There are five adults here to help with Meggie. We don't need outsiders.”

 

Burke swung into the saddle and kicked the horse into a gallop. He didn't slow until his mount was lathered and breathing hard and then only to rest the animal. Why had he let himself think Jenny was different? Just because she seemed to enjoy the prairies didn't mean—what? What did he want it to mean? Besides, it wasn't the prairies he wanted her to care about. It wasn't only Meggie he wanted her help with. He wanted her to care about him enough to consider staying, consider making up her own mind about who she would marry.

He touched his lips, remembering how she'd yielded to his kiss. Slowly he smiled. No mistaking her reaction. There was something between them whether or not she admitted it.

He slapped his thigh. Great. Wonderful news. Because it made no difference. She intended to return home to the man of her father's choosing. He couldn't believe it. He'd accused her of being weak but he
knew better. Or at least, he thought he did. He'd seen her deal with a cranky Meggie on the train and remain unruffled. He'd watched her help Paquette. Of course, maybe it was only good breeding.

He'd been so angry when he'd seen her with that black rebel of a horse. She could have been killed if the animal struck out with his hooves as he invariably did when any of the men approached him, and yet he'd watched her stroking the animal's head. Maybe it was simply blind good fortune, not courage or perseverance.

He had no solid reason to think she was anything other than a well-trained Easterner. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more convinced he grew that's exactly what she was.

Believing so made it easier to plan to take her back to town and put her on the train to her pa and her Ted.

He'd inform her of his decision tonight.

Regret threatened to suck his insides out.

Maybe he'd wait until tomorrow to give himself time to get used to the idea.

 

By morning the idea was no more welcome than it had been the day before. He milked the cow, fed the cats and tended to his chores, taking lots of time, delaying his return to the house when he must make the announcement.

Finally he could find no more excuses. He sighed. Knowing what he must do did not make it any easier. He stood outside the barn and stared at the rank horse she'd been petting yesterday. Fragments of her actions dashed across his thoughts. Her head close to the horse's black head, almost touching. The way she lifted her face to the sky and laughed. The sight of her standing several yards from the buildings, gazing into the distance. The touch of her lips on his. He sighed. Those sights and sounds and feelings would be difficult to erase. But he must put them behind him. Never think of her back East with Ted. The name burned a bloody path through his mind.