Montana Wife (Historical) (12 page)

It's just the worries that came hand in hand with a
hasty marriage. That's all. The moment Daniel came into sight, from where he'd been busy in the tack room, she could plainly see the man he was. The man who'd bandaged her hands when her palms were nothing but open blisters. The man who'd pulled his revolver and protected her. The man who'd given her his table so her sons would have a comfortable place to eat.

“Are you heading off to work?”

“I'm going to be late as it is.” It was the only apology she could offer him. He may be taking over her property, but she had her own responsibilities. “I don't have any time to hear you tell me not to go.”

“Then I won't.” He held out his hand, his palm up. “Come. I have my wagon hitched to take you to town.”

“I'm going to ride on my own.”

“No. Not with how Dayton treated you today. He won't be the only one. I'm not your husband yet. I can't tell you what to do. But, Rayna, I don't ever want anyone to hurt you. I'd like to make sure of it, starting now.”

Kindness. It wasn't what she was expecting. She laid her hand on his. His touch was firm, almost fierce. He was not what she was used to. Nor was his silence as he helped her into his wagon and followed her up.

He didn't seem to be a man of many words. That would be a change in her life, for Kol was one to talk and talk and talk. As the horses gained speed on the road to town, Daniel's silence remained. There were so many things she had to say to him, but beneath a starless sky, she lost her courage.

It didn't really matter whether he would sleep in the barn or the house. If he was the kind of man who believed he would make all the decisions and handle all the money.

Or, as he'd said in the barn, the type of husband who would tell her what to do.

Daniel was kind and he was honest and he was hardworking. She didn't believe she could find a better solution for her boys or a greater man to watch over them.

As twilight gave way to the endless shadows of night, the world seemed capable of such cruelty, or, more accurately, the men in this world. What if Daniel was right? What if Dayton wasn't the only one of her neighbors who thought she was a widow in need of “comforting”?

She felt safe beside Daniel on the seat. His words came back to her, in regards to his proposal.
It's an arrangement, that's all.
It wasn't as if it would be a real marriage. It wasn't as if Daniel Lindsay could ever replace Kol. Not in any of the ways that mattered.

Daniel halted his team in front of Thora's boardinghouse. The gentleman he was, he climbed out first and helped her down with one easy lift, as if she hadn't weighed more than the chairs he'd brought into her kitchen.

“What time will you be through?”

“Around three this morning, Thora said.”

“I'll be waiting right here.” His single nod emphasized his promise. “You take care with that wrist.”

“I will.”

“I don't know how to say this, so here it goes.” He swept off his hat, looking oddly vulnerable in the darkest of the night's shadows. “It's not an easy thing, risking my hard-earned land. But just so you know. I think you're worth it. That if I can keep you and your sons from the kind of hardship I've known, then I guess that makes my life mean something.”

She watched him go, in her view, taller than ever.
Watched as he gathered the reins and clucked to his horses. Waited until the straight shadow of him on the wagon seat disappeared into the night and distance.

Only then did her heart start beating again.

 

When Daniel pulled up to the Ludgrin house, he saw only one light on. He figured it must be the older boy. He'd been left in charge, no doubt, while Rayna worked in town. It was getting late, past ten, for a school night. Maybe Kirk stayed up past this hour all the time. What did Daniel know about this sort of white-picket-fence life?

Work. That's what he knew. And that's what had kept him busy and there was more ahead of him before he would lie down to sleep.

The heavy wagon groaned as it bounced and jostled down the rutted lane to the barn. Daniel's skin itched. He glanced around, wondering who was watching him. The light from the second-story window remained unchanged, and the curtain covering the glass still. It could be Kirk, but Daniel doubted it.

Either way, he made sure his Colt was ready to draw.

The barn seemed filled with loneliness. A gray striped cat came to study him with eyes that flashed in the dark. Daniel said howdy to the creature and began unloading the wagon bed. It was too late to bring over the cow, already bedded down for the night. Or to move the feed and stacks of hay. That could be done when the more pressing work was finished.

It was with contentment he took his time putting up the saddles and the extra yokes and harnesses. It sure was a nice setup in the tack room. Easy to use, easy to store, a big open place for him to clean and repair the rigging come winter.

It was hard to believe that come tomorrow morning, this would all be his. He'd be giving up too much of his freedom, that didn't make him comfortable. But if he worked hard—and he would—he should be fine.

“Mr. Lindsay?” It was Kirk's voice sounding uncertain in the shadows by the open door.

“Come on back.” He hefted down the first of the furniture he'd brought and leaned the headboard against the inside wall. “I suppose your ma told you what we plan to do.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy lingered in the aisle, safely out of reach of the lantern light.

He must have something on his mind, and that was an important thing. Daniel left the wagon bed half full to join the boy in the shadows. Although it was cold, near to freezing outside, he was overwarm from work.

He took advantage of the pump, which was nearby, and splashed cold water over his face. Then filled the dipper and drank deep. That gave him time to think of what he'd say, but it was Kirk who spoke first.

“I appreciate what you've agreed to take on an' all. But this is my family. Not your lookout.” Kirk cleared his throat, for his voice was wavering although he stood unbowed in the dark. “You don't need to marry my ma. I can take care of my ma and my brother. I'm man enough to do it.”

The boy's message was clear. He didn't want his father replaced so soon.

There was no way around that. Or, was there?

D
aniel took his time answering. He might know near to nothing about reading and ciphering, but he knew what it was like to be a man too young, as Kirk was forced to be now. And the remembering hurt like an old wound. Daniel dropped the dipper into the bucket, the pump spout was dripping—he'd fix that as soon as he could—and took his spot near Kirk.

He leaned up against the wall, considering what to say. “I know you're man enough to look after your brother and your ma. You're a hard worker. I've seen it myself. You could do fine going off to—what was it you were fixing on doing?”

“The north line of the railroad's hiring.”

“Right.” Daniel considered that. “You're strong enough and responsible enough to hold down that job, and that's a tough job. Long, hard days sweatin' in the sun without a break or freezin' in the winter without a fire nearby. Sleeping in a tent. Every Sunday off, but there's no point in coming home for a day. Not when you start at five sharp Monday morning.”

Kirk swallowed. “They pay well.”

“That they do. I can't argue with you about that. I admire what you want to take on, Kirk.”

“Then you don't gotta marry Ma. We can find a place in town, and not a room neither, but a house. We'll do all right.”

“Yep. But consider this. Who's here to take care of your ma? What if she should run into some trouble? You won't be here to help her out. You're old enough to know what happened to her in the barn this morning.”

“She had an argument with Mr. Dayton. I was to keep my little brother from seeing the cows being taken, but I should have been—” He made a choked, angry sound. “If I'd been there, he wouldn't have pushed her down.”

“Is that what she told you?”

Kirk grew silent. “No, sir. She said she hurt it using the pitchfork, but I don't think that's the truth.”

Was Kirk so untouched by the ugliness of this world he couldn't imagine what had happened to his mother? “No. You're a man now, Kirk. You've got to know there are plenty of men who take what advantage they can. They don't have to be evil men, or bad men, sometimes just desperate or in a bad pinch. They need money or the feeling of power that comes from hurting someone weaker.

“If you take that job, then there'll be no one to keep your ma safe. She's a widow. Folks have their opinions about women without a man to protect them. There are some who will take advantage.”

In the shadows, Kirk's head bowed forward. He had to be thinking this through. He had to come to his own conclusions; Daniel wasn't going to try to be a father to the boy. There was no way he could—one good thing he learned in his growing-up years.

“Have you considered that if I marry your ma, then
she doesn't have to work so hard? She can keep her house, the one that's got to mean a lot to her. I intend to get a job through the winter, so there will be money enough to keep your ma and your brother warm and fed and healthy.”

“You sure have this all thought out. Begging your pardon, but we all loved Pa.”

“I can't give you all the fine things your father did, but I promise you this. I'll work hard. I'll be fair. I'll treat your ma right. That will be a far sight better for her, I think. But your opinion matters to me. Tell me what you think.”

Kirk dragged a hand through his hair. He was troubled. But he'd listened. He had to be at least considering the larger view.

“Ma wrote to my uncle, Pa's brother. He'll help us. I know he will.”

So Rayna hadn't told him? Daniel wasn't sure it was his place, but the boy had to know how lucky he was to have had the parents he did. “Do you know what I was doing when I was fourteen?”

No answer.

“I worked every day in the cotton fields.”

“Your pa was a cotton farmer?”

“Nope. I was an orphan. I was hired out to whoever would take me, and that year it was a man by the name of Nolan. He owned a lot of land, and he took on boys like me to work his fields, to plant and tend and harvest his crop. My hands were blistered from handling a hoe from dawn until night, and then they were torn raw from picking cotton. Did you know it grows on shrubs, sorta like rosebushes, with thorns that are sharp. Whew. I still have the scars.”

“What happened to your folks?”

“I don't know. They fell sick, I guess. I was just a baby and no one cared, to tell the truth. Mr. Nolan wasn't a good man, and that's a year and a half of my life I try every day to forget. You don't want to go work in your uncle's fields just to earn enough bread to eat by the end of the day. I'm not saying your uncle is like some of the men I've worked for, but you might want to give this pause. There isn't a better place out there, Kirk, than what you have right here.”

“My uncle wanted me to work in his fields?”

“He did. I saw the letter. He'd found work for Hans, too.”

“Oh.” As if shocked, the boy fell quiet again for a spell. “Pa always said that a good man treats a woman real fine. He wouldn't want Ma working day and night. He wouldn't want me leaving her and Hans alone, if I got that job.”

Daniel waited for the rest to come. He was comfortable with silence while Kirk mulled things over. He was a patient man. He breathed in the dark night. Scented the coming frost and the promise of rain by morning. Heard the hush of an owl's wings glide past the open doors. The rustle of hay as the horses bedded down.

Finally, Kirk had his own answer. “If you marry Ma, then you have to treat her good. You can't ever h-hurt her.”

“I've never hurt a woman in my life and I don't plan to. Besides, I happen to share your pa's opinion. A woman deserves a man's respect, especially his wife. Think we can take good care of her, between the two of us?”

“I s'pose so. You need help unloading that wagon?”

“I'm almost done. It's late. You've got school tomorrow?”

“And a mathematics exam.” As if that were a terrible fate, the boy headed off, stopping to pet the cat that slinked out of a stall. A few minutes later, the whap of a screen door told him Kirk was safely inside the house.

Wasn't that something, a mathematics exam? Daniel didn't know what all that might involve, but it was good for a man to have education. He'd signed papers he couldn't read at the bank today. There would be more papers tomorrow before this land would be officially his. And every penny of the mortgage.

Hell, he hated debt. Still, it was worth it.

He worked late into the night. Until fog gathered in the cool air and settled into his joints. The prairie was soundless as he headed home. The endless draws and knolls of the high prairie were hidden by mist and darkness. Not unlike a man's future. Or a past he'd rather not think about.

As they always did in this weather, his arm and wrist began to ache like a bad tooth. Dampness settled into his bones as he rode one of the Clydesdales bareback home.

He'd brought up the past tonight, and he felt numb from the experience. Numb, deep inside, where a man's true feelings hid. Like the fog cloaking the prairie, that's the way he wanted those memories. It hadn't been easy to talk about them tonight. Lord knew he never wanted to remember them again.

As if by luck, the fog thickened and hid the road ahead of him.

Grateful for the obscurity, he rode on.

 

“Ma?” Kirk's whisper in the dark hallway was rusty with sleepiness. “Is that you? You're home safe?”

Rayna hated that sound of worry in her son's voice.
“Of course I am. Daniel made sure of that. Why aren't you sound asleep?”

“I guess I was just sorta listening for you.”

She could make out the shadow of her son, leaning against the doorjamb. Too grown up to want to accept the hug of comfort she wanted to give him. Kirk had been terribly close to his father. Was he having bad dreams, too?

Not that he'd tell her if he did. “Did Hans wake up at all?”

“No. He didn't even have one nightmare that I could tell.”

Thank goodness for that. It was her hope that things would be easier for Hans from here on out. “Good night, then.”

“Ma?” His voice squeaked with emotion and he cleared his throat, his voice still in the process of changing. When he spoke, he sounded so very like his father. “Daniel told me about what our uncle did. Saying he'd found work for Hans and me.”

“Oh. I thought that you were better off not knowing that.”

“Nah. Daniel said that's how he grew up. Workin' for his keep. He was an orphan.”

So it's true, that's how he knew.
She remembered the afternoon she'd received the brother's letter.
It's a common fate,
he'd said. And how he wanted to spare her and her boys the hardship he'd known.

Oh, Daniel.
She'd wondered what hardships he'd endured as a boy, while she'd soaped and scrubbed sheets on a washboard. And couldn't bear to think that he might have known about children working like servants long hours for their evening food because he'd been one
of those children. It was unthinkable. And yet, she could see how easily it could happen.

How her children had come close to a similar fate.

Kirk yawned, apparently having said what he'd needed to. “I've got an exam in the morning. G'night.”

“Night.” Rayna listened to her son's door click shut. So, Kirk had had second thoughts about working on the railroad.

Good.
Grateful for that small miracle, she eased Hans's door open, saw his motionless form cuddled beneath his covers. His breath came with the slow, relaxed cadence of a deep sleep.

Another good thing to be grateful for.

She eased the door closed, tiptoed the few steps down the hall. Now it was her turn to sleep, for however few hours she could manage it. You'd think with how tired she was, she'd be able to drift right off.

But no. She could feel the tension coiled so tight within her, she could barely move her neck enough to see to light the crystal lamp.

That done, the small pool of light spilled across the bed she'd made up on the floor. At least the feather tick felt almost as comfortable as it had on a bed frame. Her weary bones seemed to sigh when she eased onto the side of the mattress.

Sitting up, her knees bent, she could just reach her shoes. She unbuttoned and loosened the lacing, pulled them off and rubbed her aching arches. That felt good.

With a sigh, she glanced about the room. There was no moon to shimmer through the curtains, and it was just as well, for it would only shine into emptiness, save for her feather tick and personal items on the floor.

Already her life had changed dramatically and Kol had hardly been gone from their lives at all.

If she closed her eyes, she could still feel him in memory. Imagine the way he filled up a room with his hearty, jovial presence. The scent of his tobacco—

She'd always been after him not to smoke that blasted pipe in the house. The warm love that had simply filled the air between them and shone like a light in the deepest places of her heart.

Kol, wherever you are, I miss you.

There was no answer of course. Just the stillness of the house. The rustle as she changed into her flannel nightgown and climbed beneath the covers. She tucked the edges of the sheets and blankets over the top edge of the quilt.

She'd made the double wedding ring while Kol had been courting her.

Oh, what good memories those were. She'd been so young then, what a funny girl she'd been, worrying about pin curling her hair so it would fall in ringlets around her face and working Saturdays sewing for the tailor in town to earn material for new dresses.

She recalled how she and her mama had spent endless hours of an evening sewing and crocheting and embroidering pretty things for her hope chest. How she'd light up with excitement and sheer adoration whenever she saw Kol.

They'd been young and in love and, oh, how wonderful that time had been. This quilt was the last thing she'd made for her hope chest, with Mama's help. They'd sewed and pieced and pinned the entire thing so it would be ready for her wedding night.

Drops tapped on her pillow, one after another. Just thinking of him made her relax. Of how he'd take her home from school each night, for he'd graduated the year before. How he would buy her butterscotch, her
favorite, and serenade her with that horrible singing voice of his until they were both laughing and in each other's arms.

Could he forgive her for what she was about to do?

Troubled, she lay awake until shadows came into the room, letting her know that dawn was on its way.

 

Daniel was well awake before dawn broke on the eastern sky. Long streaks of rain clouds gathered overhead, their brooding underbellies painted purple and orange by the light. If he hustled, then he'd be able to get the livestock moved before it was time to take Rayna to town.

To get married. Now there was something he didn't figure he'd ever do. Not at this time in his life.

When he'd been younger, sure. He'd always thought to meet a nice lady, maybe he'd like the look of her or the way she talked or just something that would let him know she'd be a fine wife.

But that had proved damn near impossible, seeing as how young women weren't nearly as plentiful as men looking to be married in this rugged territory. Not that he'd know how to go about courtin' anyhow.

Since he'd been content enough by himself, it hadn't mattered so much. After sixteen years of overcrowded orphanages in the winters and boiling hot attics packed full of other boys, who were field workers, too, and not enough beds, of chaos and heartbreak and violence best not remembered, he rather liked the quiet.

It was a luxury, having all this space to himself. The cabin wasn't big, but it was roomy in his opinion. And with acres of his very own land spread out around him, why, he was grateful for that. Grateful every day.