Dakota Born (14 page)

“Brandon, wait up!” She raced out of the house after him.

Halfway across the yard he came to an abrupt halt. “What?” he demanded.

She wanted to remind him that the grain prices were as much a disappointment to her as they were to him. What happened to him, happened to her. She drew in a deep breath and said, “We're going to be all right.”

The distant look in his eyes told her he didn't want to hear any cheerful optimism. Nevertheless, she continued, “We've made it through hard times before and we will again.”

“That's what our marriage is to you, isn't it? Hard times.”

Sometimes he made everything so difficult. “You know that isn't true.”

“But you've suffered,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

“Stop it. I know you're disappointed, but so am I. Is lashing out at me going to make you feel better?” She clenched her fists at her sides. “I'm only trying to help.”

“By applying for a job at the bank?”

“Yes—no. I'm trying to support the family because
you
can't.” It wasn't what she'd meant to say and she could tell that her careless words were like throwing gasoline on a lit fire.

“This wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for you,” he shouted.

“Now you're saying this is
my
fault?” Her husband had lost all reason. “You're blaming
me
for the low price of grain?” Her voice cracked. How could he even suggest such a thing? “Do you have any idea how ludicrous that sounds?”

“Not the grain prices, dammit! That washing machine you couldn't live without.”

“What does the washing machine have to do with anything?”

“I got a loan to buy the damned thing, figuring I'd be able to pay it off once we sold the corn.”

It made sense to Joanie now. He'd taken out a loan for the appliances, adding the dryer when all she'd asked for was a new washer. With the payments to his parents, taxes, payments on the combine and health insurance premiums—plus living expenses—they were always strapped for cash. Now he'd added another payment they couldn't afford.

“I should've known,” he spat. “I should've known.”

Joanie felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. “I didn't realize—”

He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Now you do.”

“It's only been a month. Maybe we could take them back. Maybe we could talk to—”

“No.”

Her lower lip trembled with the effort to hold back tears.

“Do you have any other brilliant ideas?”

Joanie had nothing to say and ran back to the house. Sitting at the kitchen table, she buried her face in her hands. She knew Brandon wasn't really angry with her. He was reacting to the unfairness of their lives, everything he'd invested of himself in his fields. He'd lashed out at her because she was there. That was what her head told her, but her heart hurt too much to listen.

A few weeks ago Joanie would have expected this, but since the night of their anniversary, things had been much better. They seemed to have recaptured the closeness they used to share. The first day the kids were both in school, Brandon had taken her with him on the tractor and they'd ridden across the fields, laughing and teasing one another, like in the old days.

The following Sunday, he'd attended church with her and the children for the first time in months. Since their anniversary they'd both made an effort to establish time for intimacy and lovemaking, refusing to put it off with a list of excuses.

Today the low grain prices had hit, and now Joanie wondered if they'd ever recover.

“Mommy.”

At the soft whisper, she glanced up to find Sage standing next to the table, frowning. “Are you crying?”

Joanie answered with a weak smile and brushed the tears from her cheeks, unwilling to lie to her daughter.

“Did you and Daddy have another fight?”

Wrapping her arms around Sage's small shoulders, Joanie tried to explain. “Daddy's worried, and we both said some things we didn't mean.”

“I'm worried, too. Are we going to lose the farm?”

“Of course not, sweetheart.”

“At school today, Danny Hoffman said his family was going to sell their farm.”

Joanie pressed Sage's head against her shoulder. “We won't have to sell, sweetheart.”

“Danny doesn't want to move to the city.”

“I know.” It had to be heartbreaking for the Hoffmans. “You don't need to worry, sweetheart. Everything's fine with us.”

“With you and Daddy, too?”

Joanie held her daughter close. “With me and Daddy, too,” she said.

Sage relaxed. “Good. I don't want you to get a divorce.”

“We aren't going to get a divorce.”

“You promise?”

“I promised to love your daddy all my life, and I will. Now, are you finished with your homework?”

Sage nodded. “Stevie's playing with his trucks, but I read like you said I should.”

“Good for you.” Joanie managed a small smile.

It was almost midnight before Brandon finally returned to the house. Joanie lay in bed, unable to sleep, worrying about her husband. Yet when she heard the door open and he crept into their bedroom, she didn't reveal that she was still awake.

His silent undressing in the dark told her he didn't want to wake her. He didn't want to talk to her and, as she so often had before, Joanie pretended to be asleep.

The mattress dipped as Brandon got into bed beside her. Even with her back turned, Joanie could smell the liquor on his breath.

“Joanie,” he whispered, his voice husky and slurred, “are you asleep?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “No.”

Brandon slipped behind her, cuddling her spoon fashion. His hands found her breasts.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“In the barn.”

“You have a bottle out there?”

“Don't start, baby.”

“Start what?” He couldn't possibly believe he could steal into the house in the middle of the night and make love to her after the way he'd behaved.

“Another fight.”

“I suppose that would be my fault, too.”

“Baby, don't. Not tonight. Just once can't you give me what I want without an argument?”

The unfairness of what he said was more than she could take. “Give you what you want? And what exactly do you want from me?”

He pressed his erection against her backside. “Should be obvious. Come on, honey, I'm sorry. Let's put it behind us, all right? We've been doing so well lately.”

“You said some horrible things to me.”

“I know.”

“You want to abuse me with your words and then use my body to relieve your frustrations. I love you, Brandon, and I'm your wife, but I won't be used in that way.”

He went still for an instant, then turned over with such violence that he nearly ripped the sheets off the bed. “Fine. Forget I asked. Trust me, it'll be a hell of a long time before I do that again.”

“Since I seem to be entirely responsible for the depression in farm prices, I'm shocked you even want to touch me.”

Apparently he was either too drunk or too angry to get comfortable, and bunched up the pillow. “Listen, if you want to get a job with the bank, that's okay with me. If you feel you can support this family better than I can, go right ahead.”

“Fine.”

“Maybe Quantrill can deduct the loan payments from your wages.”

“You don't need to worry about me working at the bank.” She told him what he hadn't taken time to listen to earlier. “Heath said he isn't planning to hire another teller.”

Brandon sounded downright cheered by the information. “Pity.”

Whatever closeness they'd gained since their anniversary had been destroyed, she realized. And something else—Joanie's hope of making her marriage what she'd always dreamed it would be. That, too, had been lost.

 

Saturday night, Gage sat alone in Buffalo Bob's, nursing a beer. He hadn't driven into town looking for company, but he'd expected the bar to have a little more activity than this.

“Where is everyone?” he asked when Bob delivered his second draft.

“Not in here,” he muttered.

It went without saying that the farmers would be tightfisted after the devastating news earlier in the week. Generally, Gage was careful with a dollar himself, but he couldn't stand being in the house with his mother and brother, pretending everything was okay when it wasn't. Neither of them seemed to appreciate the gravity of the situation. Then again, perhaps they did, and it worried them too much to dwell on what the future held. Either way, Gage needed an escape, so he'd driven into town.

And naturally there was Lindsay Snyder. Without being obvious about it, he'd hoped they might run into each other again, as they had on Thursday afternoon.

She couldn't have any idea how that brief meeting had helped him. The concerned look in her eyes had touched him, and when she'd gently placed her hand on his arm, it'd demanded every shred of restraint not to haul her into his embrace. He'd wanted to shut out the world, use her warmth and caring as a shield. In that moment, he'd
needed
Lindsay.

Unfortunately, she'd made it plain she wasn't interested, which was fine by him. Well, not fine, but acceptable. He wasn't going to press any unwanted advances on her.

Gage wished to hell he'd never kissed her. Those kisses had been a mistake. The feel of her, the taste of her, had imprinted themselves on his subconscious. At the most inopportune moments, he found himself submerged by swells of desire, wishing he could block her from his overactive mind. It'd been like this from the minute they'd met. Thoughts of her tormented him, especially at night….

Her honesty had come as a surprise. She'd admitted that she'd taken the teaching position to escape an unhappy relationship. He didn't want to think of Lindsay with another man. He didn't want to think of her at all, and yet she was constantly on his mind.

“Where's Merrily?” he asked in an effort to turn his thoughts away from Lindsay.

Buffalo Bob shook his head sadly. “Gone.”

“Again?”

His friend nodded and got himself a beer. “She left me a note this time.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“I doubt she knows herself.”

“I'll miss her.” Merrily had a soothing manner, almost as if she'd seen people at their worst and accepted them anyway. She never tried to force conversation, never pried, but was friendly and open. Stopping at Buffalo Bob's for a beer was sure to mean a laugh or two whenever she was around.

“I'll miss her, too,” Bob said, his look sober.

“She coming back?” Gage knew it was her pattern to leave every now and then, but in the past she'd always returned.

“I don't know,” Bob told him. He took a deep swig from his glass of beer. “Can't see why she should.”

“Why wouldn't she?”

“Look around you,” Buffalo Bob muttered, with a sweeping gesture of his arm. “I'm not exactly in need of crowd control, am I?”

Gage had to admit that was true.

“I won't be able to stay open much longer if this keeps up.”

Gage nodded. “I heard the Hansens put the grocery up for sale.”

“I know. If it'd been up to Marta, they would've left years ago. You staying?”

The question took Gage by surprise. “Of course I am.”

Buffalo Bob grinned crookedly. “That's what I figured. You're like me. Too damn stubborn to know when you're beat.”

Until that moment Gage hadn't thought of himself in those terms, but perhaps his friend was right.

“How're you gettin' along with the new teacher?”

“What do you mean?” Gage demanded, not liking the turn of the conversation.

“I heard you were—you know, sweet on her.”

Gage frowned. And lied. “You heard wrong.”

Buffalo Bob arched his brows as if to say otherwise. “Well, speak of the very devil. Look who's here.”

Gage swiveled around in his chair and watched Lindsay stalk into the bar. She was dressed in jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt and covered with fine white powder. Must've been working on that fireplace again.

“Welcome,” Buffalo Bob greeted her.

She blinked hard and stared at Gage.

“Can I get you a beer?” Bob asked.

She hesitated. “No, thanks. I came looking for some help at the house.”