Montana Wife

Yep, that was a mess now, but all a man had to do was to turn the sod before winter set in and these would be good fertile fields to sow come spring. Fields he wanted. A good water supply, even a running creek most of the year. He’d been up half the night working out the numbers on his old school slate and he knew he could just manage it.

It all depended on what those papers on Rayna’s table said. Bank notes. He couldn’t read, but he knew a mortgage note when he saw it. And judging by the number of pages, more than just the property was encumbered.

But, if Rayna was willing and her asking price was reasonable, this could be his. Sure, it would take hard labor to turn the soil, to plant and harvest one hundred and sixty acres in addition to his own bottom land that kept him busy as it was. He’d be working from dawn until midnight for a good part of the next year. That was a formidable prospect, but the gains would be worth it.

Hell, he’d come this far already. He might as well see if he couldn’t improve his circumstances.

Daniel straightened his shoulders as the tepid rays of dawn washed over him, bright but without warmth. His shadow stretched out before him, long and wide, on the ground littered with wheat chaff blown from the fields by last night’s heartless wind. Ground that would be his?

I sure hope so.

Determination turned his spine to steel. A little hard work was all it would take. He wasn’t afraid of hard work. It was the only kind he knew. What he didn’t like was that his future hinged on a woman’s decision.

She’d already agreed he’d have first option for the land. But did the bank’s mortgage cancel that? Or would she be able to keep her word if a better offer came from one of the other neighbors?

There she was—a blur of dark blue calico and matching sunbonnet—visible through the slats of the chicken pen. She emerged from the coop with a basket on her arm. She was obviously egg gathering. Hens clucked and pecked at the scatter of feed on the dirt and squawked angrily when the snap of her dress startled them.

The wan light teased her blond hair, which she hadn’t pinned up yet and fell in a long golden spill from her nape, where a ribbon bound it into a thick ponytail. With it down, she looked young and dainty, her shadow a thin wisp behind her as she swished up the path to the garden gate. She seemed far too young to be a widow and a mother of two boys, one of them fourteen years old.

That tangle of emotions was back, wedged like an ax blade right through his breastbone and bore deep until he couldn’t breathe at all. Feeling as though he were suffocating, he watched Rayna Ludgrin with her curving figure and flowing hair and her feminine graceful manner. He was a man. He couldn’t help wanting.

But it was more than that. It was admiration he felt at the grit of her spirit. Not many women would have worked like she did without complaint. Even though she trudged heavy with exhaustion and grief, she was graceful and quality. As if she were far too fine for the burden of this land.

We can help one another, he thought, a lone man standing in the threshold of the barn, caught in shadow, the cool, new light falling all around him. Summer was gone, and with it the vibrant warmth. The season had turned, and Daniel felt as if something unnamable were slipping away and just out of his reach, something he didn’t even know he’d been missing until now. When it was already gone.

Or maybe it was just that he realized Rayna had disappeared into her house. Seemingly taking the summer with her.

He left the pail of milk on the back porch, in front of the open door. Through the pink mesh of the screen, he could see her at the stove. Her back was to him as she worked, her long hair shifting and moving like liquid gold. Overcome, he turned away, wondering if her hair was as soft as it looked. It wasn’t his right to wonder such a thing.

If things went his way, she’d be gone and this land would be his. And he would be alone, as he was meant to be. As he’d always been.

His boots crushed fallen rose leaves and satin pink petals as he retraced his path across the back lawn. Toward the livestock gathering at the empty wooden feed trough. For a long second, it felt as if time had stopped marching forward and the earth had stopped turning between one step and the next. His breath stalled in his lungs. A strange flickering trail skidded along his spine.

What was happening to him?

Awareness moved through him, different from the jerk of instinct that warned him of a predator in the field, but just as strong. It was an awareness that had him turning on his heel to gaze back at the house in time to see Rayna framed in the window. With a batter bowl anchored in the crook of her arm, she returned to her work as if she hadn’t been watching him.

He headed to the far side of the trough and kept out of sight of the house while he finished the rest of the morning chores.

At the first tap of his boot on the porch, she straightened. Taking a breath, she wiped the stray wisps from her eyes and dug the hot mitt from the drawer.

You can do this, Rayna. She was a grown woman after all. She had to face the unbearable truth. What was done was done, there was no going back and changing it. Kol hadn’t meant to die, of course, and he would never have wanted her to be in this position. Never would have wanted his family broken and his land sold…

It’s too much. Too much to manage alone. He never would have wanted that for her. Anger drained out of her and her hand started to tremble. She couldn’t get a good grip on the baking sheet through the layers of dense rug yarn that padded the mitt.

The biscuits, golden and fluffy, tipped dangerously and she slid the sheet onto the waiting trivet, the one Kol had sanded and shaped from river rock the long winter when she’d been carrying Hans.

She swallowed hard, somehow managing to flip the eggs without breaking all but one of the yolks. She watched the smear of yellow bubble in the grease and steeled herself for what was to come.

The rap of his knuckles on the door frame was quiet, not bold or demanding, but seemed like the ring of gunfire. She would do this now, while the boys were sleeping in from another rough night, when it was just her and Daniel. So she could spare her boys the heartache.

Daniel Lindsay’s step was sure and sturdy as he let himself in. He was a good man, Kol had said so many a time. And would take better care of her land than Mr. Dayton or whoever won the auction from the bank. Surely that was the wisest decision. Maybe he would give her enough time to settle her affairs and contact her relatives to see if anyone would take her and her boys in.

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

It wasn’t what she expected him to say. Surely he’d seen the mortgage papers on the table; they were obvious and hard to miss. “I’ll have time to sleep later.”

“No, you need to take care of yourself now. Your boys depend on you.”

It was the decency in his voice that undid her as he gently removed the spatula from her hand, took her elbow and tugged. Who was this man who’d bandaged her hands, who’d tried to harvest her fields with his machinery and horses, who by rights should have been as happy with her change in fortune as her other neighbors?

When her feet didn’t move, he laid his other hand on her back, on the space between her shoulder blades. His touch was unwelcome. He was not her husband, and close contact with her was…well, it was wrong. But the broad pressure of his palm on her spine was comforting, too.

Lord knew how much she needed comfort right now. So she allowed his closeness and let him nudge her to the closest chair. She eased onto the seat, more tired than she’d ever been.

And more defeated.

Daniel Lindsay moved away, leaving her alone in the cool shadows. She shivered. She couldn’t get warm, even a few yards from the blazing cookstove. There was a clink and a clatter of stoneware and then a steaming cup of coffee appeared before her on the table, left there by the tall, silent man who’d taken over her duties at the stove.

The coffee was piping hot and stung her tongue. But it steadied her to ask what had to be asked. “What would you say this land, even with the house, is worth?”

“I’d have to find out all the debt owed. And if a fair deal is possible. If so, then I would make you an honest offer.”

“I know you will.” She took another bracing swallow of coffee. Felt the heat burn inside her. It was the closest thing to determination she had at the moment. “I’m afraid any offer you would want to make wouldn’t cover all the debt I owe. What happens then?”

“I’ll talk to someone at the bank and find out. Likely as not, if you can’t make your next payment or if you can’t sell for the amount of your mortgage, then the bank will repossess.”

She’d known he was going to say that.

He turned with two full plates in hand and set them on the table, one before her and the other at Kirk’s place, where he sat. A solemn man with grim lines cut around his mouth and his eyes. Not the face of a young man, but of a hardworking one. A decent man.

Gratitude warmed her more than the coffee had. When she was down, he’d pulled through for her.

He took a bite of biscuit and chewed, reaching for the loan papers. More creases dug into her brow as he scanned the pages. His granite jaw stilled.

As the clock ticked the seconds away, Rayna watched Daniel’s reaction as he appeared to read. The tension cording in his throat. The grim set of his brows drawing together as he leafed through the pages.

Like the hand of destiny laying down the final step in her path, the silence stretched between the ticks of the clock. Unbearable silence. She saw, as Daniel bowed his head and covered his face with his hands, that it was worse than she’d figured. And that meant—

No, she couldn’t face what that meant. With great control, she rose from the table and pulled two plates from the cupboards. Each scrape of the spatula as she began to fill the plates with the rest of the fried eggs, diced potatoes and salt pork gave her something to concentrate on so she could keep the truth from settling in.

If she couldn’t sell the land, with the hopes of keeping the house, then she would have no place to go. No way to make a living.

A chair scraped against the wooden floor and Daniel’s sure gait tapped on the floor. “I’ll talk to the bank. See what I can do. But I don’t know how it will turn out.”

His silence sounded oddly helpless. “I would truly appreciate any help, Mr. Lindsay.”

“Daniel.” He seemed to fill the room, his presence was that powerful. As was the shadow that fell across the floor, big hands fisting. “I wish there was more I could do.”

“You’ve done so much already. I can’t remember if I’ve thanked you.”

“It’s been a difficult time, I know.” Daniel swallowed hard, but the tangle in his chest seemed to sharpen and cut like knives at the insides of his ribs. He hated this feeling. Knew, that if he struck a deal to take over the mortgage, that he’d be taking everything from Kol’s widow and children. That wasn’t what he wanted.

“I have a good relationship with Wright at the bank. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

She layered salt pork on the two plates she was making, breakfast to be kept warm in the oven for when her children woke, no doubt. What fortunate boys they were, to have a mother like her.

It took only one look around to see the home she’d made for them, clean and comfortable and caring. The sharp feelings sliced into his chest and he turned away to grab his hat. To get as far away from this woman as he could before he remembered too much of his childhood. Or the boy that had never had a kindly woman worrying if he was hungry. Making sure he had a heaping plate of good food to start the day with.

He couldn’t spare Rayna Ludgrin one more look as he strode out the door and into the cool morning that warned of a hard winter to come.

It didn’t feel as if it were only the weather.

Daniel yanked the ends of the reins loose from the hitching post in the front yard and swung up onto his gelding’s back. With the odd feeling that Rayna Ludgrin was watching him go, he rode east and into the rising sun.

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