Blessing in Disguise (24 page)

“Sounds good.” Penny stared toward the door. “Maybe Sam’s two little ones could come too. Let me go find out. Tell anyone who comes in that I’ll be right back.”

“As if I can’t wait on them myself?”

Penny headed out the back door and across the narrow field to the house on the other side of the sack house. She waved at a couple of the farmers with wagonloads of sacked grain waiting to be weighed, then knocked on the screen door. “Anybody home?”

“Hi, Mrs. Bjorklund.” Ellie came to the door. “Come on in.”

“Is Hans here?”

“Uh-huh.” Ellie held open the door.

“How would the two of you like to come over and help us paste up paper bags? Maybe you could run over and ask Mrs. Lincoln about her two young ones also.”

“Sure. Hans is doing his schoolwork, but he can do that later.”

“Okay. Come as soon as you can.” Penny stepped back off the porch and looked up at the trailing Vs of ducks and geese. She knew where Thorliff and Baptiste were for sure—out hunting. Maybe they’d bag enough geese that she could sell smoked goose again this year.

Ellie caught up with her before she got back to the store. “Pa needed Hans for a bit, so he’ll come later. I can go over and ask Mrs. Lincoln, if ’n you like.”

Penny nodded, and Ellie ran off, jumping over a clump of grass and waving her hands in the breeze. The joy she saw made Penny almost do the same. Oh, to be six years old again. She looked around to make sure no one was looking and, with a running head start, leaped over the chopping block, her skirts and petticoat billowing around her knees as she landed. She spun in place and lifted her face to the westerly sun. Maybe she didn’t need to be six after all, just act like it.

She smoothed her dark skirt back down and made her way up the path to the back door, managing to work a skip or two into her pace.

“Good day for vaulting,” Anner Valders said when she returned to the store. The twinkle in his dark eyes betrayed the chuckle that daren’t come forth.

Penny could feel the heat start up her neck. He’d seen her through the window in the bank room. “Ja, some days are good for most anything.”

“Mr. Valders,” Agnes called from the kitchen, “are you in need of a cup of coffee?”

“Yes, please.” He nodded to Penny, the serious look he usually wore back in place.

“You know”—Penny entered the bank room through the arched doorway—“you need to smile more often, Mr. Valders. You’ve got nice eyes when they twinkle.” Now the heat really rose, splashing over onto her cheekbones.
What in the world possessed me to say such a thing?

He studied her as if he had to add up a column of figures without a pen. “You know, you are most likely right. Thank you for the compliment.” When Agnes passed Penny with the cookie plate and a mug of coffee, Anner Valders looked up at her and actually smiled. “And thank you, Mrs. Baard. Fine day, is it not?”

The doorbell tinkled just in time to keep Penny’s eyes from watering.
Must be due to the brisk air
, she thought as she turned back to the store. “I’m coming.”

“Mail’s here.” The railroad conductor tossed a canvas bag on the counter. “What’s that I smell? Molasses?”

“Mr. Haraldon, you could detect fresh cookies under a pile of hay. Wait right here, and I’ll get you some.” She had to remind herself that skipping wasn’t quite fitting for the store’s proprietress. It must be something in the air.

Later when she saw her name written on the front of an envelope with an Ohio postmark, she felt like skipping again but made do with a small hop. She could hear the children and Agnes laughing in the kitchen as they pasted up the sides of the brown paper bags. Folks had already gathered, as they did every afternoon, to wait for her to set out the mail, so she stuffed the letter in her apron pocket and went about her business.

What if this was from another one of her brothers or sisters? What if they were coming to visit? The letter seemed to burn a hole right through the cotton fabric.

Chapter 22

The Ranch
Late September

“Come.” Kane beckoned from the doorway.

Augusta tucked her knitting back in the basket she had found and got to her feet. She followed him out the front door and stopped on the porch. The roses growing on either side of the steps smelled sweet on the faint breeze. The frost the night before hadn’t killed them as she had been afraid it would. Fall had dressed the elm and oak trees in shades from gold to russet with everything in between. A matching leaf skirt drifted over the ground beneath.

Kane stopped beside a horse that looked to have been painted with the same fiery red as the leaves. The horse rubbed its forehead against his shoulder as he motioned her to join him.

“Do you ride?” He pantomimed her mounting.

“For me?” Augusta clasped her hands to her breast. How she would love to ride free like the breeze, and this horse wasn’t even a workhorse, not with those dainty feet.

“Come on.” Kane motioned with his head this time and held out a stirrup.

Augusta glanced down at her skirt. Was it full enough that she could ride astride without showing parts of her legs that weren’t supposed to be shown? She shook her head. “It is not proper.”

He patted the horse’s neck and motioned her to come again.

Augusta looked around. None of the other men were in view. The only other dress she had was a shapeless thing that Morning Dove had found for her. The skirt on it carried much less material than the wool one she was wearing.
I’ll do it. Who cares about my ankles?
She smiled back at the man by the horse and strode down the walk. Placing her foot in the stirrup, she swung her leg and skirts over the saddle and found the other stirrup before rearranging her skirts. When she smiled down at him, her breath caught in her throat.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, and while she didn’t understand the words, the look in his eyes was unmistakable. Warmth, caring, delight, a dollop of joy. She wanted to take hold of the hand that handed her the reins, to reach down and trace a finger over his chin. She felt as though she were drowning in his eyes.

The horse stamped a front foot.

“This is horse.” He pointed to the horse and repeated the name. He almost said filly but realized he didn’t want to try to explain that with the limited words at his use.

She echoed him and leaned forward to stroke the filly’s mane to the right side. “Such a beautiful horse.” Throwing her arms around the animal’s neck didn’t seem like the proper thing to do, but oh, how she longed to do just that.

“Th-thank you.”

“You are indeed welcome.”

Kane mounted his horse and led the way down the lane and out into the fields that led to the rolling hills. As they rode side by side, he pointed out a covey of sand grouse, a hawk screeching above them, a patch of late-blooming fall asters. When they came around the breast of a hill, she saw the deer drinking at the pond first and pointed it out without talking. After the deer bounded away, the yellow-headed blackbirds picked up their swamp chorus again, joined by both their redwing and tricolor cousins.

She leaned back against the cantle to ease the jog, and at her beam of delight, Kane broke into a lope. Her hair broke loose from its bindings and flowed behind her like a golden banner. Not since she was a child on the slopes of Norway’s mountains had she ridden like this, but then she had ridden bareback. Thanks to the stirrups and the horn of the heavy roping saddle, she was regaining her balance and confidence with a speed beyond her imagination. She could ride. She really could, even if holding on to the horn at times seemed a wise precaution.

When Kane brought his horse to a stop, she laughed aloud in sheer delight.

Cows and half-grown calves put their tails in the air and ran from them, making her laugh again.

Kane’s heart lurched at the sound of her joy.
Lord, I would do anything to make her laugh like that some more. Thank you for bringing this perfect horse for her and for bringing my Norwegian princess here to me. Was that love or at least caring I saw in her eyes? How long, Lord, do I wait before I make her my own?

He watched her as she chuckled when a calf hid behind its mother and then peeked out from around her haunches, the tail swatting the calf ’s face. Kane joined in with a chuckle of his own when Augusta’s smile invited him to. She tossed her head, sending the golden waves rippling down her back. When she realized he was studying her, she tried to gather her hair back in some semblance of order, but at a brief shake of his head, she shrugged and let it go.

Augusta could feel his gaze burning into her flesh. She glanced at him, then down at her hands clasping the reins on the saddle horn. What did he want? Why was she getting warm all over? She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. They felt crackly dry, like her throat.

Why doesn’t he say something? She shook her head and felt the hair swishing against her back. Here she was, an unmarried woman, riding who knew where—well, he knew—with an unmarried man, her ankles showing, and her hair down her back. What would her mor say to this?

The picture didn’t bear thinking of.

Thoughts of her mother banished the smile from her face and the song from her heart.

When would he take her to Blessing? Surely she was healthy again, so that was no excuse. But he didn’t seem in much of a hurry. At the thought of leaving this place, this man, a cloud turned gray and settled around her. But she’d given her word, had written to Mor that she was coming to help with the boardinghouse.

She started to ask, but he interrupted her.

“Come, we must go back.” His face had gone from summer to winter without enjoying fall. What had she done?

She tried to smooth her skirt down with one hand. Until she had some hairpins or ribbons, there was nothing she could do about her hair. She turned her horse and followed behind all the way back to the ranch house. Convinced she had done something to offend him, she racked her brains all the way back. But what? What could she have done?

They rode up to the barn, and Kane dismounted, looping his reins over the hitching post. He turned back to her and, drawing the reins from her hands, did the same for her horse.

She glanced up to check, but the sun hadn’t gone out. The sky was still blue, and the puffy white clouds gamboled like lambs across the hills. Was he angry? Sad? What had happened?

She grasped the saddle horn and, leaning forward, swung her right leg back over the cantle and the horse’s rump. But before she could find the ground, strong hands clasped her waist and steadied her descent. Her knees went soft like newly made pudding, and she sagged against him.

“I thought you might need help here.” His breath tickled her ear.

Move
, she ordered her legs.
Stay
, her mind whispered. The warmth coming from his chest and through her clothing constricted her breathing. His hands at her waist branded like fire. The urge to lean into his warmth rather than step away made her knees weaker. If she turned, would his face be hovering just above hers? His breath tickled the hairs on her neck.

Never before had she understood what people meant by the words “time stood still,” but now she knew.

“Augusta.” The very way he said her name sent shivers chasing up and down her spine. While she’d enjoyed the few kisses she’d shared with Elmer after their betrothal, nothing prepared her for the longing she was feeling now, the desire to turn and touch his face, to wait and see what he would do next.

“Kane?” Lone Pine came around the corner. “Ah.” The one word carried a hint of laughter. “I go and come back later.”

Augusta stepped out of the shelter of Kane’s arms and only kept her hands from covering her face with great strength of will. She knew if she touched her cheeks, her fingertips might be singed. Her hair was all a-fly and her heart aflutter. What must he think of her?

She ran for the house like wolves were hot on her heels.

Kane glared at his foreman. “What is it?”

“Sorry.” Lone Pine shrugged, his teasing look setting Kane’s teeth on edge. “I didn’t realize you . . . your woman . . . you . . .” He raised his hands in the air and dropped them, visibly trying to erase the glint of laughter from his eyes and mouth.

Kane crossed his arms over his chest and glared from under the brim of his hat. “Spit it out, man.”

“Ah, brother, she’s your wife, right?”

“Yes.” Kane turned to unsaddle Augusta’s horse.

“Then why all this . . . this . . .” He motioned confusion with his hands.

Kane paused in the act of pulling the leather cinch-strap free.
As if I need to explain myself to you, man
. But the two of them had shared far more than ranch work. They’d grown up together, more like the brother that Lone Pine called him. They’d taken turns saving each other’s life. Lone Pine had rescued Kane from a bear once, and another time Kane had brought his brother back to life from a snakebite. Kane had thought seriously about taking a wife from the Mandan tribe like Lone Pine had, but something had stopped him. Now he knew what. God had in mind a golden princess for him and had kept him celibate until that day.