Montana Wife (Historical) (21 page)

“I've got to change Hans's poultice.” Politely spoken, the way she'd been when he'd first come. When he'd been a stranger and not the man who'd made love to her in the dark intimacy of night.

Daniel pushed aside whatever emotion was building
within him. It was only right that Rayna was concerned about her sick child. He was worried about Hans, too. “How is the little guy?”

“He's not improving.” Rayna's voice was clipped.

Worry, that was all. He understood that. “Is the doc dropping back by?”

“Any time now. When I heard a horse, I first thought you might be him. You'll keep an eye out for him?”

“Yeah. I'll get this grub down me, and I'll be up to help. Tell me what you need, pretty lady.”

I need you to stop breaking my heart.
It seemed she had one after all. The pieces of it, broken and sharp. Nothing whole to give him. And even if it was, she wasn't a sixteen-year-old girl any longer. She'd learned the cost of loving with all her heart. She couldn't do it again.

Not even for a man as deserving as Daniel.

Leaving him to his supper, she took the stairs two at a time. If she could get away fast enough, maybe she could also escape the pull he had on her soul. Like the mountains to the prairie, the sky to the earth. She could not hand over so much.

Hans was awake and waiting for her, his face flushed above the pile of blankets. “M-Ma,” his voice scratched painfully, and his eyes filled.

“Do you want some more water, sweet boy?”

He nodded, looking so miserable as she filled his favorite tin cup. His fever had yet to break. And until it did, he was in danger. Life was so fragile. A gift that could be taken away at any moment.

She held his cup to his lips. He sipped. Struggling to swallow, he teared up anew. Her poor baby. She wrung cool water from a cloth and folded it in thirds so it would fit across his little brow.

“That m-man.” Hans sniffed.

“Yes, Daniel's home.” She settled the cloth in place, hating the hot feel of his fever. Hated how small and vulnerable he was. “He's watching for the doctor.”

“Can't he g-go?”

So much pain filled his eyes. “No. He's going to take care of us the way your pa did.”

“He's gon-na l-leave, too.” One tear overflowed, falling along his baby-soft cheek to tap against the pillowslip.

“No, my baby. He's here to stay.”

“N-no.”

She smoothed his hair away from his sweaty brow, wishing she could hurt for him, too.

“Rayna.” Daniel. He was standing in the hall.

He had to have heard what Hans had said about him. How did she tell him that she understood far too well? There was no way to spare Daniel's feelings from the truth. It wasn't easy trying to let another man close. Not with wounds so deep.

And Daniel, incredible Daniel, held his chin up and his shoulders back. No anger showed on his face or in his stance as he ambled in, bringing the doctor with him. It was with concern that Daniel studied his stepson from the far corner of the room.

Concern and compassion.

And she knew the truth. That in marrying her, it wasn't the land he'd wanted. Or her, as loving as he'd been to her and as well as he'd treated her.

He was here for Hans. For the little boy living a life Daniel never had. In saving Hans, Daniel was saving himself, too.

A rush of emotion tore through her so powerful, it brought her to her feet. Agony for the small boy alive
somewhere inside Daniel who'd endured beatings and neglect. Who'd gone to bed hungry. Who'd never been tucked in or cared about or sent off to school with a lunch pail full of good food and books to read from. Who had worried over him when he was ill? No one.

A sorrow beat at her, driving her from the room. Every piece of her soul cried out to hold the man who needed her. Who'd put aside lifelong lessons of neglect and rejection to risk loving her. Daniel loved her with the same intensity that she'd loved Kol so long ago. It was with the ideal passion of a first love.

Not knowing, or understanding, that to love wholly was also to lose wholly.

She couldn't love him the same way. She could
never
love like that again. She refused to need someone so much. She wouldn't lean on anyone ever again.

It was the surest path to heartbreak and desolation. Love was a falsehood. It made a person seem safe and sheltered, but from what?

Not life, not the world. Her faithful and complete love for Kol hadn't saved him from collapse and death. She didn't even get to say goodbye. He was taken from her, and her life…it hadn't been stable and it hadn't been secure.

She'd built her life on a young girl's dreams of happiness. She'd been wrong.

She was a woman with scars of her own. She wasn't about to depend on another man so she could close her eyes and hide from a world that was not safe or particularly kind. She would take care of herself. She had a job, she helped in providing for her family. She wasn't about to cling to a girl's whimsy of what love and life should be.

“Rayna?”

It was Daniel, following her into the dark shadows of the parlor where the fire writhed and twisted in the grate. She knelt in front of the wood box and chose a good cured piece of fir. It would burn clean and hot. She stacked the two-foot chunk of wood into place on the crumbling skeletons of burning logs. The orange flames flared, greedily lapping at the moss and bark on the wood.

“Rayna.” Daniel, with love in his voice and his heart on his sleeve, crouching close, as if he belonged beside her. “That's my job. Let me handle this. You go upstairs to be with Hans.”

That was Daniel, always helpful, always good and kind and strong. Always. And it was killing her.

Stubbornly she grabbed another log with her bare hands and winced when a sliver gouged into her palm. But the pain didn't matter. It was a small thing compared to the torture coming to life within her.

It wasn't her heart that was breaking, she realized. It was her soul.

“Here, sweet lady.” His rugged hands, calloused and scarred from a lifetime of hard work covered hers with an uncommon tenderness.

She felt his love move through her like a light so pure it could dispel any darkness. She grabbed another chunk of wood, fighting him, struggling against the part of her that wanted to close her eyes. To lean against his chest. To breathe in the luxury of being in
his
arms.

It was too much to lose. Her heart was gone. Did she have to risk her soul, too? “I can't do this.”

“That's why you should let me.” With care, he wrestled the log chunk from her grip. “You're tired. Let me watch over Hans for a few hours while you nap. I can apply a poultice and keep him cool.”

“No. No, I can't let you—”

“Yes you can. Just trust me. I won't let you down, Rayna. I'd die first. You have to know how much I treasure you.”

She twisted away so she wouldn't have to look at him and see the adoration in his eyes. The depth of love she could not return. She could not allow it. What words could she use? Anything that came to mind would hurt him, and hurt him deep. He didn't deserve that. Not Daniel, his hand steady as it came to rest on her nape. Possessive and affectionate and, oh, the soothing balm of his touch.

She had to move away. Had to stop this before he could invest any more of his perfect heart. There was no kind way to do it. No easy way. Only the truth.

When she turned to him, she wasn't aware of the tears welling in her eyes. Or the rent beginning to crack through her soul. Only that she had to save both of them. It was the truth of this world. This merciless world. “I will take care of my son, Daniel. He is not your son.”

“Well, now…uh…” Confusion dug deep into the corners of his eyes, his honest, beautiful eyes. “He's my stepson, too, and the child of the woman I love. I—”

“Daniel, you have to stop this. You have to. I'm begging you.” Breaking apart, that's what she was, shattering from the inside out.

“What am I doing, sweetheart?” His hand cupped her chin. His fingers eased away her tears.

She wanted to grab on hard and hold on to him and never let go. “You are loving me. And I can't take it. I've lost the love of my life. I can't do it again. I just can't. We can be friends, we can even be lovers, but I can't l-love you.”

“You can't love me?” His jaw ground tight. His eyes
filled. He stepped away from her as if he'd been slapped. His hurt resonated in the darkness and in the shadows.

“
I
can't love. It's me, Daniel. Not you.”

“I see.” He turned away, the darkness in the room seemed to cling to him. And the hurt remained. “I'll go bring in more wood.”

He was gone with the even knell of his boots. The outside door swung closed, not with a slam or a bang, but a small, final click. A lonely sound in a hopeless winter's night.

I
can't l-love you.
Daniel let the bitter wind cut through his clothes, chilling him to the bone, but not to the soul. Rayna's honest confession had numbed him to the bottom of his soul.

Nothing,
nothing
had ever reached so deep inside him, not since he was seven years old.

Not until Rayna. Until he'd been foolish enough to put aside those hard-learned lessons in his life and believe he could belong somewhere. And mean something to a woman so good and fine, she made his spirit stronger.

But now, he didn't feel strong at all. He felt tired and frayed. All the memories stored up and locked away, uncoiled in his mind. Images of the dismal winters when he was very young spent in the dormitories of the county orphanage in Little Rock, Kentucky.

He'd been one little boy in a cot shivering in the dark, alone in a crowded upstairs with too many cots and boys crammed into every available space. Trying to fall asleep with his teeth clenched to keep from chattering because there were not enough blankets to go around.

The nights were the worst, what he dreaded most. Too
cold to sleep, stomach growling, he'd lain awake listening to the other boys' misery. Some wept for their dead parents, others for the pain of being unwanted every day. Others for the hope they'd thrown away, making the night a time for despair.

Sometimes, during the day, married couples would pay a visit to look at all the children. Some were childless and the women would gaze longingly at the pretty little girls with their curls and wide-eyed sweetness.

He never blamed them much for being chosen. Even when he'd tried his best to be quiet and good, wishing, just wishing, a kind motherly lady would see what a good boy he would be.

That's what this reminded him of. He'd learned a long time ago to shut off the pain of wishing. That only led to certain disappointment. Just as the boy he'd been had learned not to even hope he'd be adopted, the grown man he was now should have been wiser.

Pain cannoned all the way to his soul. Rayna could explain her feelings all she wanted—that she wasn't able to love, that she couldn't lose her heart again.

It didn't matter. The truth was, she didn't love
him.

He loved her. To the bottom of his soul, with all the strength of his spirit. She was the only love he'd ever had. The only real home he'd ever known.

Whatever he was to her, he wasn't enough. Not for her to love.

Love wasn't a decision. It wasn't something made out of duty and marriage vows and practicality. It was like the night. It just came. Without struggle or uncertainty. Day turned to night. That's just the way it was.

Love either grew or it didn't. It was as simple as that.

The snow tinkling from the sky to tap like music against the endless plains calmed him. Made him draw
in a deep breath and see that the only mistake made had been his. Like the little boy he'd been so long ago, he tucked away the corners of his heart. And the edges of it. Until there was nothing open or exposed or able to feel.

He had a job to do. As with all the families he'd been with before. He'd wagered his freedom for the chance to matter.

It was a bet he'd lost. The truth was, he had more to lose. Much more. As he loaded up his arms with heavy cured wood, he knew there was more at stake than just his heart. This land, and the homestead he'd earned with his sweat and blood.

That's why he was here. That's what he ought to be worrying about. Not whether a good-hearted and incredible woman loved him or not. Because that was a proven fact. She didn't, she wouldn't.

She couldn't.

He was here only to work. Yeah, he understood that now. He dragged his feet on the way back to the house. Not so much because of the heavy wood he carried, but because he'd have to look Rayna in the eye and act as if he hadn't made a fool of himself. And the pain of her rejection…why, it reminded him of the little boy still inside him somewhere crying out in misery.

And knowing that no one cared. No one ever would.

By the time he made it beneath the shelter of the porch roof, he took one look behind him. The snow was falling so hard that it was already filling in his footsteps. Almost as if he'd never been.

 

Rayna had been holding every muscle tight, but seeing his shadow on the porch, standing as invincible as
ever, made her sigh with relief.
Thank heavens he's all right.
She'd been afraid…

No, she should have known that Daniel, incredible Daniel, was doing as he'd said he'd do. His arms were loaded with stacked wood for the fires.

She opened the door, the draft icy enough to freeze her breath. Shivering, she felt him pass by her like the click of a telegraph line. A tangible, electrical current that she couldn't help responding to.

Daniel, covered with snow, disappeared with his load into the parlor. Without a word.

She felt his hurt inside her like the darkness and the cold. She gripped the door frame, leaning against it for support. Watching as he knelt to empty his arms, moving methodically and fast, as he did everything. She studied the long line his back and neck made as he knelt in the shadows. The way his dark hair fell forward to hide his face as he worked.

He was dear to her. She admired him. She cared for him far more than was prudent. She'd risked more than she could lose already. Last night, open beneath him, she'd welcomed him into her body and more. So much more. And she had to stop this now. Life was too fragile.

“I'll be all right, Rayna.” Daniel, steady and stoic, rose to his full six feet. He kept to the shadows, as if lost in darkness. “You go on up and take care of your boy.”

“I need to know that you're all right. That you understand. You are so wonderful, Daniel.” Emotion caught in her throat and stopped her. She had no more words. None. Only feelings, and that was some place she didn't dare go. A place beyond need and affection and companionship.

A place where lovers whispered their affections, from one heart to the other.

His gloved hand bit into the round of her shoulder joint. She melted against him. Lost, so lost. Clinging to his leather coat. The ice stung her skin, but she held on. She had to make sure he was all right.

She kissed the spot on his chest above his heart. “I just can't rely on another man. I just can't lose like that again.”

“It's all right.” His assurance rumbled through her. His arms banded her tight. “A heart can take only so much grief in this lifetime.”

He understands.
Grateful, she moved into his kiss. Savored the tender caress and suction of his loving caress. Her soul beat with a pulse of its own. As she reached out for more, he slipped away, leaving her wanting.

Leaving her alone.

 

Daniel heard the pad of Rayna's gait on the floor overhead. The rasp of the door's hinges. The muffled groan of the bed ropes adjusting to her weight.

She was getting some sleep, was she? That must mean Hans's fever had broken. Daniel knew without having to ask that she wouldn't have left his side otherwise. The doc had come a second time and said if the boy showed no improvement by midnight to come fetch him.

The kitchen clock struck eleven. An hour to go, and the little boy was on the mend. Good. Daniel covered the embers, so they would be ready to go come morning, and stood. Stretched his aching muscles.

He had a long day of work ahead. And if he didn't settle enough to sleep, then tomorrow would only be the harder for it. He checked the locks and took a last look outside from the wide kitchen window. Nothing out of
place, although it was hard to tell with the snow still falling.

His thigh muscles were stiff. Too much lifting yesterday. He took his time. Hans's door was open, probably so Rayna could listen for him. Sure enough, he spotted their bedroom door cracked open a notch.

Daniel hesitated, wanting to make sure he'd given Rayna enough time to fall asleep first. He couldn't help glancing in the little bedroom, where shadows upon shadows masked the toy train and cavalry and soldiers scattered across half the floor. Hans murmured in his sleep and rolled over. In the dark, he was nothing but a faint outline small and helpless.

Feel better, little guy.
Daniel had vowed to keep the boy safe, and he would. Except for an act of God, it looked as if the note payment would be covered. Two more paychecks would do it, and with no time to spare.

The coal yard was busy; Danzig was pleased with how hard he worked. And with Rayna's extra income, yeah, they would be all right until spring planting. He'd sweat through the growing season and pray for a good harvest. That's all they needed. A good harvest. And just in case, he planned to keep his job in town.

There was one little boy who was going to grow up the right way. With plenty of blankets on his bed. A doctor when he fell ill. A stomach that had never known hunger. Toys on the floor and a mother's love.

Yeah, he was a lucky kid. Daniel's throat ached as he turned. If nothing else, he could still make a difference. It mattered.

It had to be enough.

A small voice called out in the dark. “M-mister?”

“You can call me Daniel. Want me to get your ma?”

“I'm awful thirsty.”

“I can get that for you. Stay under the covers where it's warm.” There wasn't enough light for him to see by, so he lit the small tin lamp on the bedside table before filling a little tin cup with a horse painted on the side of it.

Hans's hands shook with weakness, so Daniel knelt and held the bottom of the cup steady. The boy's blond hair was sticking straight up. His eyes were troubled as he finished up and collapsed into his pillows.

“That enough?” Daniel asked. When the kid nodded, he left the cup on the corner of the table, within easy reach. “In case you get thirsty again.”

“Mister?”

Hell, he could see the boy wasn't going to call him anything familiar. “Yeah?”

“You better leave now.”

Feeling better, was he? Daniel figured that was a good sign. “No, Hans. I'm not going to leave. Not now. Not later.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I know how it is. You're hurtin' over your pa, but I'm here for good. Like it or not. It's nothing to be worrying about tonight. You go to sleep, all right?”

“'Kay.” Hans's frown was a deep one and his troubled sigh was full of burden. “Mister? You're not gonna leave?”

“No.”

Hans studied him with sad eyes. Eyes so like his mother's. “Okay.”

Daniel turned down the wick and darkness reigned once more.

 

Rayna knew the instant Daniel entered the room. It wasn't the hush of the hinges or the pad of his socks as
he crossed the floor. In the dark, with the wind beating at the eaves and with her entire will fighting it, the light within her grew.

“How's Hans?” Her question startled him.

He froze and the hard line of his shoulders, just visible in the dark, tensed. “He needed water. I filled his cup. He's fine.”

He's fine. But Daniel was not. Rayna held out the covers to welcome him in. There was only one bed iron—she'd given Hans all but the one at the foot of the bed. Only enough to take the chill out of the sheets.

Daniel took his time, lost in the utter blackness on the far side of the room. His clothes rustled, his belt buckle thunked against the floor, and then he was climbing in beside her. A hulk of a man so close.

And so distant.

He did not turn to her. He did not draw her into his arms.

It was just as well. She closed her eyes, but sleep didn't come.

She doubted if she would ever sleep truly well again. Not with her heart gone and her soul in pieces.

Daniel lay awake, too. Silent, with his back to her. Until the clock downstairs struck four and he rose to take care of the livestock. It was another day of hard work for them both.

Rayna waited until he was outside before she rose, washed quickly and dressed. The boys were fast asleep and so she hurried downstairs to start her chores.

 

Daniel squeezed the last of the milk into a bowl for the barn cat, who curled around his ankles in thanks. Leaving the calico purring in contentment, he clipped
the lid on the pail and wrapped up for the trip back to the house.

Not that he was looking forward to it. The thought of sitting at the breakfast table with Rayna…his guts coiled up good and tight. No, he wasn't over the pain. Although humiliation had set in. To think that he'd ever had a chance in the first place.

Maybe it was the way of things. A man who'd grown up alone was meant to be that way. Truth was, he'd never come across a woman that made him think it would be worth the risk.

Until Rayna.

I can't l-love you.
He could still hear her words thick with apology and raw with truth. She didn't have the heart for it. Sure, he understood that. Because he'd just used up the last of his.

He was as alone as he'd ever been. He'd survived loneliness for all of his thirty-five years. He didn't need Rayna. He didn't need love.

And if that wasn't true yet, then by God he'd make it true. Anything was better than living with his heart torn out and bleeding. Nothing he'd ever known had hurt so fierce or cut him so deep.

Two more weeks, he thought as he shoved the barn door open against the resistance of the drifting snow. Two more weeks and the first payment made—that was the hardest. If he kept his job in town through the rest of the winter and into spring, even if he had to harrow and seed the fields at night by lantern, then that's what he'd do.

With an angry shove, he propelled the barn door closed with a definitive bang. Puffing great clouds of warm air, he let the snow fall everywhere around him, tapping on his face and thudding on his shoulders, cov
ering the tops of his boots as he went. He wasn't ready to go in yet, but it was too cold to stay out. Somehow he would walk into that house as if he hadn't suffered more than a mild disappointment.