Rocky Mountain Wife (7 page)

“It was no trouble at all.” She spun away, unconsciously beautiful. Absolutely unaware of what she’d just done.

She waltzed away with an easy grace, looking like a picture against the backdrop of the endless prairie and the blue splotches of sky between the departing clouds. Sunlight shone through to find her, highlighting her as she made her way around the outskirts of the orchard. His heart twisted hard and painful.

That wasn’t tenderness, he told himself stubbornly. It wasn’t tenderness, at all.

“At least he’s a hard worker,” Ma said as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “That’s in his favor. Look at him go.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Mostly because she’d purposefully sat with her back to the window so she couldn’t see Joshua—and notice how in control he looked, doggedly plowing the fields.

He’d made steady progress, despite the wet conditions. She couldn’t bear to see another man in Clay’s fields. All those years she’d looked out these windows to see her husband there, working their land. Her heart ached, every dead and broken piece of it. She gathered the empty plates, stood from the table and headed to the sink.

“Have you thought about the wedding?” Ma pushed back her chair, gave her platinum up knot a pat and stood. She was a diminutive lady, slender and barely five feet tall, but her loving heart made her more substantial.

“No.” Claire sighed, setting the dishes in the sink. She stared out the window, heartsick at the decimated crops that seemed to stretch for miles. Hadn’t she gambled that the bank would wait for the harvest for their money? And now wasn’t she gambling the same thing with the next crop, only with Joshua as her business partner?

“It’s business, that’s all. I don’t have any feelings about it other than that.” She closed off her feelings. This was the way it had to be. “Nothing will really change. Joshua and I will stand in front of the minister, say our vows and then go home to different houses—”

“Different houses?” Ma looked scandalized. “What is the sense in that? It’s more expensive to keep two households. He will be your husband. How can you take care of him if he isn’t living with you?”

“I’m not going to take care of him,” she said gently, wincing because the words sounded harsh even when she did not mean them that way. “Nothing changes, Ma. He lives his life. I live mine. It’s that simple.”

“My dear daughter,
nothing
is that simple.” Ma came over and offered a warm hug, holding on too tight for a few long moments before she stepped away. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“You have done more than enough. Go home and relax.” Claire grabbed her old coat from the wall hook and shrugged into it. She sat down to pull on an old pair of garden boots. “Come, I’ll walk with you part way.”

“I know what you’re up to.” Ma rescued her shawl from the wall peg. “You know how I feel about you working so hard in the fields.”

“I have to. At this point, we’re almost too late in the season to replant.” Claire closed the door firmly behind them, buttoning her coat as she went. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure Joshua has a fine crop to harvest.”

“I hope he knows what a good wife he will have in you.” Ma led the way down the steps and along the stone walk. “I can pick Ivy up after school.”

“That would be a big help.” Claire trudged through the soggy grass, waving goodbye to her mother when their paths parted. She had to wade a good distance into the field to catch up with Joshua.

“Hey.” He tipped his Stetson brim upward to get a better look at her. His eyes were dark as he looked her up and down. “I was going to bring the lunch pail in. You didn’t have to come out and fetch it.”

“I’m not here for that.” She pulled a pair of working gloves from her coat pocket and slipped them on. “You have a plow of your own, don’t you?”

“Tucked in the back of my barn.”

“Then why don’t you go hitch it up to Clay’s work horses for me? We’ll get the work done in half the time.”

He hiked an eyebrow upward skeptically. “I don’t remember asking you to help.”

“And if you say this is man’s work and you won’t work alongside a woman, then I’ll take the end of the reins to you.” Her chin hiked up, a show of stubborn pride.

Beneath the glitter of a challenge in her blue eyes, he saw worry. He saw a woman who feared her home was not fully safe from loss.

Well, she didn’t know him. He wasn’t a man who failed.

“Fine, if it would make you feel better.” He handed over the thick leather straps. When she took the reins into her hands, she looked tiny next to the large draft horses. Tiny but indomitable.

He hated that it made him like her even more.

“Hold them tight,” he told her gruffly as he walked away. “Be firm. The black one tries to be the boss.”

“Not with me, he won’t.” Claire gripped the reins competently.

It didn’t feel right, leaving a woman doing his work in the fields, but he couldn’t fault her spirit. As he splashed through the damp earth, an old memory rose to the surface. Of his parents, working through the night, hurrying to harvest the corn before the storm struck. Of Ma wrapping him in a blanket and setting him beside his baby sister and two brothers in a snug trench.

“Close your eyes and try to sleep.” She’d kissed his forehead and patted down the cowlick at the back of his head. “And if you can’t sleep, at least dream a little.”

Ma had hurried away, disappearing down the tall cornrows to work, popping back out now and again to check on them. Pa would too, carrying big bushels of corn to empty into the back of the wagon. Beside him, the baby slept. On his other side, his younger brothers drifted off in the muggy night.

When the twister hit, it came out of nowhere, a finger from above. It touched down, gobbled up their little wooden shanty, chewed through the fields and lifted him up into the dark. The last thing he’d ever known of his family was his mother’s panicked, desperate cry that ended as abruptly as it had started, and the quiet surprised gasp of his baby sister. Then the storm threw him to the ground. He’d broken nearly every bone in his legs and arms, but he was alive—the only one—when the town deputies arrived, part of a search party to see if there were any survivors.

Pain shot through his heart, the only brief emotion he allowed. He risked a glance back over his shoulder. He’d been four years old, and that was the last time he’d had family. That was the last time he’d been close to anyone.

Claire lit a second lamp and set it on the kitchen table, where Ivy sat with her head bent over her slate working arithmetic problems. The girl didn’t move, absorbed in her studies. Claire bit her bottom lip to hold in a gasp as she set the lamp on the table. The muscles in her arms burned with fiery exhaustion. Her shoulder sockets ached sharply in protest. That’s what she got for working without a break in the fields for more than half the day, striving to match Joshua’s pace. He’d scolded her for it, and he’d discouraged her from it, but it hadn’t stopped her.

Night was falling. The sun had already slunk behind the high, rugged peaks of the Rockies, casting a gold and purple glow across the sky. The underbellies of the last remaining clouds glowed in jeweled tones. Twilight shadows struggled to hide the man working in her yard, bending down to unhitch his team of horses from the plow.

She scooped the full lunch pail off the counter, grabbed her shawl and hurried out into the shadows. The night wind held a note of cool, and she shivered. Or maybe that chill came from within—the feeling that she was walking toward a fate she could not change, that put goose bumps on her skin.

Joshua had his back to her, the low rumble of his voice carrying on the faint wind. He spoke to the horses, who calmed at his touch, heads down, tired from a long hard day. The man had to be too, but not a hint of weariness showed in his straight powerful form. He stilled, cocked his head as if he heard the soft pad of her shoes in the grass and stepped out of the garden patch. “There you are. I knew you would be out to check on things.”

“You got the entire garden done.” She glanced at the shadows, freshly turned rows of earth. After a long day in the fields, that said something about the character of the man. “Thank you. I’ll get this planted first thing in the morning.”

He nodded, shifting the thick leather reins in his large hands. She heated from head to toe, thinking about what she’d imagined those hands doing.

Stop it, Claire.
She straightened her shoulders, determined to get control over her body. “You turned down my offer of supper tonight. Are you going to do that tomorrow, too?”

“I don’t want to waste any daylight.” He kept his back to her, checking the horses’ rigging.

“I kept a plate warm in the oven for you.” She held out the pail. “Here, you need to eat. I’ve never seen anyone work as hard. Not even Clay.”

“There’s a lot to do.” He shrugged off her compliment but turned to take the pail. “I appreciate this more than you know.”

“It’s the least I can do.” She tried not to notice the way the afterglow from sunset seemed to find him, highlighting the high slant of his cheekbones and the sad, carved splendor of his mouth. She’d imagined that mouth doing all sorts of things, too, and a hard, sexual shiver tore through her.

Keep your thoughts clean, Claire.
She hiked up her chin, determined to drive every inappropriate thought right out of her head. She reached into her skirt pocket. “I have something else for you, too.”

“That looks like money.” The hard line of his jaw tightened. “It looks like my money.”

“I’m returning it to you. The horses you bought from me will be yours anyway once we—”

“Marry.” His deep voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Well, by that logic then, the money would have been yours anyhow.”

“That’s not how we are going to do things.” Her chin went up. She still had her pride. “I take care of my daughter and my mother. You take care of the land. That’s the bargain we make, or I’ll pack up and drive away right now.”

“Drive away with my horses?” He quirked one brow.

She hung her head. She’d forgotten in selling the animals, she had no way to pull the wagon. “I had planned on purchasing a cheap mule with this horse sale money. I could still do it.”

“I just don’t feel right taking the cash back from you.” A hint of a smile pinched the corners of his mouth. Kindness chased the shadows from his eyes, as if he understood about pride. “I suppose it’s fair as long as you take back the horses.”

“I suppose that will make us even.”

“Right.” He tucked the bills into his pocket, the corners of his mouth almost smiled. “I was thinking we could visit the minister on Thursday morning. I’ll come pick you up around ten. It won’t take long, and I can be back in the fields by eleven. How does that sound to you?”

“F-fine.” She stuttered, taking a step back. Night had fallen, and its darkness wrapped around her like a cold hug. “What did Sanders say to you when you met him in the road?”

“Nothing of consequence.” Joshua snapped the reins, driving the horses deep into the black. “You no longer have to worry about him.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle, puzzled about why she was shivering again. She wanted to call out to him, but he’d left her alone in the dark.

Thursday morning was there before she knew it. Claire tried to pretend it was like any other day, but her heart kept stuttering, missing a beat. She brushed out her hair. It was almost dry from her bath.

Ma knocked on the open bedroom door. “Here, I ironed your Sunday best, but don’t you think you should have a special dress to get married in? There’s still time for me to drive to the dress shop in town—”

“And waste good money on something I don’t need?” Claire set down her brush on the foot of the bed. The ropes squeaked faintly beneath her weight as she shifted to get a good look at her mother.

“You’re right, of course.” Ma looked disappointed, handing over the garment she held. “Here’s your sensible dress for a sensible wedding.”

“Finally, you understand.” She rose from the bed, kissed her mother’s cheek and gave her practical, dove gray dress a look over. It wasn’t new, but it was lovely all the same. “I know you’re a romantic at heart, Ma. Thanks.”

“I just want happiness for my girl.” Ma’s eyes filled. “Now, why don’t you change into this and—”

A knock interrupted, echoing through the house and up the stairs. Was Joshua early? Claire glanced at the small mantel clock above the fireplace. It was nine-thirty-two. Curious, she headed toward the door, realizing that the second
rap, rap, rap
that echoed up the stairs was a familiar rhythm. She rushed through the house and glanced out the window only to spot her newly married friend, Josie Harrison, standing on the front porch.

“What are you doing here?” Surprised but pleased, Claire whipped open the door. “Why aren’t you spending time with that handsome husband of yours?”

“Oh, he’s rebuilding the barn, and that’s keeping him busy. He loves hammering things, so I left him to it.” Josie breezed in looking gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. She wore a new pink gingham dress, a matching sunbonnet and shiny new shoes. Radiant with happiness, she set the bundle she carried on the entry table and untied her bonnet. “I couldn’t let you get ready for your wedding all by yourself.”

“How did you know I was getting married? Wait, I bet it was my mother.” Claire closed the door. “She shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why not?” Josie interrupted, hanging her hat on a hook and scooping up the bundle. “There’s no reason to keep this quiet.”

“Gee, Josie, I seem to remember you just up and got married without hardly telling a soul.” Claire stopped, spotting a movement outside the window. “Wait, is that—?”

“Lucy?” Josie finished, nodding. She gave her rich brown locks a toss over her shoulder. “Yes. You know how Lucy is. Once she knew that I wanted to come over and help you, she had to come, too.”

“And is that Georgia with her?”

“We’re your friends. You don’t have to leave us out of this.” Josie hugged the bundle she carried. “I know the ceremony will be just you and Mr. Reed, but we’re here for you. Always.”