Montana Wife (Historical) (13 page)

It would be a change, living with other people after
so much time by himself. Two boys and a woman. Hell, he knew next to nothing about women, let alone a pampered, dainty beauty like Rayna. Theirs wasn't to be a marriage based on love, but then he'd seen enough marriages growing up, in the households where he'd stayed, to know a bad marriage was its own brand of hell.

He figured he and Rayna wouldn't have problems like that. They'd get along all right. He had Kirk on his side. As for the little one, why, there was time enough to make friends with him.

The back of his neck was itchy again. Uncomfortable, he glanced around. The fields were newly plowed, all but the back acreage, and a fresh footprint would have given him warning enough. But there were no footprints he could see save his own.

No, whoever was keeping watch on him wasn't anywhere close. In rifle range? Folks were hurting in this part of the country. The past few growing seasons had been busts for most of the ranchers. That brought out all kinds of behavior, including those who'd steal to feed their young ones.

He unsnapped the Colt, leaving it holstered for now. He went about his work but stayed vigilant—just in case. The feeling dogged him through the hour it took to toss feed bags into the back of the wagon and to hitch up his workhorses. He wasn't imagining it, for the big black was unsettled, too, ears pricked as he nervously scented the cool wind.

By the time he'd finished milking his cow and led her out of the barn, the black's flanks were twitching.

Trouble. And it was getting closer. Daniel took his time knotting up the cow's lead rope to the tailgate. Looking for something, anything, out of ordinary.

He secured the top of the pail and stored the milk
beneath the seat, listening to the stretching stillness. Not a single lark was singing.

A predator, maybe? That was usually the first problem, for it seemed man could try to settle and tame this wild rolling prairie, but this was a stubborn land. Too spirited to give in docilely to fences and crops and claim shanties. And that meant wolves, bears and big cats, but this time of year?

Probably not, but he took his extra rifle from above the barn door, just in case. A Winchester repeater could stop a cougar better than a .45.

He could feel whatever it was out there—predator or human—watching. Waiting.

Let 'em, Daniel thought as he leaned the cold metal barrel against his shoulder, the butt cradled in his palm for fast action. He was ready if trouble came his way. He might be a target on the wagon seat, but he had a good view.

Taking the reins in one hand, his rifle against his shoulder, hand on the stock, he scanned the frost-crusted furrows where he'd been turning sod and the fields beyond.

Nothing. The back of his neck went back to normal. The big black calmed, although his ears remained up and alert. As the road rolled to the bridge over the creek and beyond, Daniel watched as his land crept out of sight and with it the sense of danger.

A coyote, startled by the clap of steeled hooves on the wood bridge, darted out of the undergrowth. A brown streak that had Daniel taking aim, but that scavenger wasn't the problem. A predator was. And human, most likely. That brought a whole other nest of problems.

He laid the Winchester on the floorboards at his feet, where he could grab it if he needed to.

The road curved and he followed the fork left, where the first corner post marked the border of the Ludgrin property—
his
property. He had to get used to that. When he'd brought his old harvester over that first day to cut Rayna's wheat, he'd wanted the chance to work this land so bad, it had made the meat in his bones ache.

It sure was a dream to think that a man who'd started with nothing but the clothes on his back and the willingness to work hard could own all this. He had Rayna to thank for that. By agreeing to marry him. He was more grateful than there were words to say.

This good turn she'd given him was something he was committed to repaying for the rest of his life.

A weak sun speared through the clouds when he drove up the last rise, crowning the gray two-story house, one of the finest in the county. The windows winked and it struck him hard. That was about to be his home. The real thing. Not a claim shanty he'd built, no fancier than any of the thousands cast about the vast Montana prairie.

A real home. With a porch made for sitting on come a fine summer evening.

He'd never had one of those before.

After he settled the cow in a stall and unloaded the feed sacks and supplies, it was a good feeling that filled him as he brought the bucket up the path through the back lawn. Smoke from the stovepipe and the glow of a lamp in the kitchen window told him Rayna was up. She couldn't have gotten much sleep, and already she was at work.

His boots sounded loud on the board steps, and she must have heard him because there she was in the win
dow. Her hair down, falling over her bosom to her waist, long golden ribbons of it, so soft it made his fingers twitch. He knew how soft her hair was, for he'd brushed soft wisps out of her eyes. His heart twisted hard in his chest.

“Morning.” He swept off his hat and lifted the bucket for her to see at the same time.

As dark as those circles were beneath her eyes, her smile came as bright as he'd ever seen it. “You are a wonder, Daniel. I saw you from the window earlier. You brought us your cow.”

“She'll be yours, too, in a few more hours.”

Tension pinched the corners of her eyes. “Come in and warm up at the stove. I've got coffee ready.”

“That would be mighty fine.”

The words seemed to stick in his throat and come out ragged, but Rayna didn't seem to notice. She returned to the stove as he closed the door behind him, hung his hat and his coat on the handy wall pegs.

Making himself at home, maybe too much so, for the way Rayna looked at him with sorrow in her gaze.

Briskly, she went back to work flipping salt pork that sizzled and popped in a hot pan. He swore he could feel Kol's memory like a ghost in the corner and wondered if Kol had been in the habit of hanging his things in the same place. Probably. Daniel made a vow to try something different next time.

“Here.” She tugged a chair from the table, the one closest to the stove.

Before he could take a step to get a cup of coffee, she was already pouring one. She set it on the table, as if doing so was of little concern.

He could only stare at the cup of coffee. It steamed in the cooler air, and he gripped the back of the chair.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Rayna stop to wipe her hand on her apron and then crack an egg on the side of the big black fry pan.

Wasn't that something? He sat, hardly feeling the heat from the stove at his back as he took a sip of that coffee.

“How many can you eat?”

“Uh.” He'd never been treated like this in his life. “Is four too many?”

“As long as you can eat them.” Her soft words were an attempt at kindness.

He couldn't think it was easy for her to go from cooking up breakfast for her husband one morning and practically the next day frying up eggs for a second one.

It didn't strike him until that moment, sipping good coffee and chasing out the early morning chill from his bones, what he was getting into.

It was more than the land he wanted. More than the responsibility he was willing to take on and shoulder. It was having a life in this kitchen with a pretty, good-hearted woman.

“More coffee?” she asked, setting an extra cup on the table for herself and filling his first.

She'd been this kind when he'd eaten supper here, as a guest. But this morning he was no guest. And during supper, she hadn't served him.

I'm going to be so good to you, Rayna.
Daniel's soul strengthened with that vow. Nothing on this earth would make him break it.

“Thank you,” he said to her.

“You're welcome.”

She stirred sugar into her coffee and, as if it were nothing remarkable at all, returned to the stove to flip his eggs.

But it was special to him.

I
t was hard to know what to wear. Rayna went through her closet again. So many pretty dresses for spring, any one of them would be nice. Hopeful. But she kept drifting back to the black worsted. Black was a color more suited to her mood. This wedding felt like a loss.

She chose her navy-blue wool, for it was tailored so beautifully. The mother-of-pearl buttons glowed like hope against the dark fabric, so there was a chance it would lighten her mood. As she slipped into the fabric and fit her arms into the narrow sleeves, she saw for a brief flash of memory another wedding day.

When she, Mariah and Betsy, so young and giggly, were bouncing with excitement. She'd been the first of them to marry, with secret oaths sworn the night before when her friends had stayed over, to tell them in great detail what the wedding night was really like.

And when she told them, two days later in the tiny kitchen at the tiny table of the little house Kol had rented in town, none of them could believe her that
that
could really be wonderful. How embarrassed she'd been and how hard they had laughed when she'd drawn detailed pictures on her school slate to demonstrate what hap
pened between a man and wife. How hard they'd laughed!

Oh, goodness, the wedding night.
She hadn't given any thought to the practical aspect of this marriage to Daniel. There was the bed, made up neat and cozy on the floor. Her double wedding ring quilt looking so light and cheerful. Would he expect to join her there tonight? To sleep? Or, more?

Either way, there was no going back. Daniel was a good man. She'd made up her mind. She intended to marry him in less than forty minutes. This time, there would be no excited preparations.

She could almost hear the past, the memory was so vivid and cherished of the three of them so lighthearted and gay as only the young can be. Fussing over shoes and petticoats and getting the last details just right. Something old, new, borrowed and blue.

The breathless gasp when she fit into the gown Mama had sewn for her, stitched with a mother's love and hope for her daughter's life to come.

What would Mama think of this loveless marriage? Rayna's fingers stilled at her throat. She remembered Mama's words to her as they were climbing out of the buggy at the church.
Remember my words to you, my daughter. From this day on, this man is your life. Love him above yourself always. Honor him in all you do. Never take for granted the great gift of a good man's love.

Rayna fastened the top button and tucked the lace collar smooth over it. If Mama were alive, she'd never understand this. Or would she? Mama had died when Kirk was small. She'd said how lucky Rayna was at the time, a precious child, a doting husband, and a happy and cozy home. Mama would have understood a
mother's duty. There was a lot to admire in Daniel Lindsay.

Her wrist ached as she used both hands to secure the string of pearls at her throat. Her grandmother's pearls, grown richly hued and radiant with time. Something old. Her dress was blue. She'd wear her poke bonnet, that was new. As for something borrowed…she went across the hall to Hans's room and fingered through his wooden bowl of stones and things. She chose his favorite rock, a small multicolored pebble with a fragment of fool's gold in it.

Fool's gold or not, it was one of Hans's most prized possessions. She slipped it into her pocket for safekeeping. There. She was ready, and a few minutes early, too. She made a quick trip into her closet to grab her bonnet.

As she was tying it on, careful to pin it just right, which was hard to tell in the small hand mirror, she noticed the glint of gold on her hand.

Her wedding ring. It was still on her finger. A circle of gold without end, as love should be.

“Rayna?” Daniel's baritone called from downstairs.

She hadn't heard him pull up. Hadn't heard him come in. “One moment. I'll be right down.”

“I'm a few minutes late myself, so we need to get goin'.”

“All right.” She twisted the ring up over her knuckle. Tucked it into the small jewel box. It felt as if she were leaving her heart behind her, as if she'd somehow been able to rip it out of her body along with the ring.

Empty, she hurried down the hall, took the stairs at a brisk pace and rushed into the parlor where she heard Daniel's boots echoing in the large room.

The man who was to be her husband was gazing out the front window, broad hands fisted at his hips, em
phasizing the long line of his shoulders. This was the man who had protected her from Dayton's unspeakable behavior and who would protect her sons from a merciless world when she could not.

He turned and slow appreciation softened his stony features. “You look mighty fine.”

“So do you. I've only seen you in your work clothes.”

“I don't figure I'll get married but this once. I might as well wear my Sunday best for the event.” He looked self-conscious, but he didn't need to be. He was a fine-looking man, but it was him she was grateful for as he opened the door to hold it for her. “Ready?”

She nodded, because she didn't trust her voice. There was no excited anticipation, only simple politeness as he helped her up into the wagon and settled beside her on the seat.

It was a cruel wind blowing as the horses headed toward town. With any luck the rain would hold off until after the ceremony.

 

A fine mist wept from the sky as Daniel helped Rayna from the wagon. “Looks like we beat the storm.”

“The question is, would you still be willing to marry me if I was dripping like a wet dog?”

“Even then, I'd reckon you would still be lovely.” He'd said too much. Clamping his jaw tight, he held the door for her. It was hard to believe a woman like her was going to be his wife. An arrangement, sure, but his wife all the same. “You're shaking.”

“It's the cold.” The lie was in her eyes, and the apology, too.

He wondered how much sleep she'd been able to get. Not much by the look of those rings even darker beneath
her eyes. Her heart-shaped face was devoid of all coloring. She glanced toward the empty pulpit and the long row of empty pews, and whatever was on her mind, she didn't share with him.

“This is it. Your last chance to change your mind.”

She had the kindest eyes he'd ever seen. They looked at him now as if she were seeing him for the first time, taking his measure. Maybe, finding him wanting? He sure hoped not.

“No, I'm certain.” Her fingers tightened around his.

Even though all he held was her hand, it felt as if he were holding more. Her heart, her future, her sons' happiness. It weighed on him mightily. “You didn't ask your friends to come?”

“No. When I married Kol, this church was crowded. Folks were standing in the back. It was a joyful time, for he and I were celebrating our love. Vowing our hearts to one another. I was young, not yet seventeen. I was a girl.”

“I know this wedding is not about joy.”

“No, but it is about something important. It's about a greater joy. My sons.” A brilliance, more lustrous than the string of pearls at her collar, lit her up. “You said that if you can save me and my boys from knowing the hardship you have, that your life will mean something.”

“That's what I said.”

“I can't begin to imagine the hardship you've known. But I'll do my best for you every day. So whatever hardship is ahead, you're not alone with it. A load is never as heavy when two people share it.”

That tangle in his chest shattered, leaving only sharp, cutting pieces. He couldn't speak. There was no way he could trust his voice. As rain tapped in a lazy cadence
on the roof, it felt like pieces of his heart. It was something, having a woman at his side. This woman.

The minister peered into the sanctuary. He didn't know the man, but the Reverend Phillips seemed to know Rayna. His eyes lit up with what could only be concern.

“Dear Rayna, I've been meaning to get out your way since the funeral, but I've been busy with all the trouble that comes in these hard times. How are you faring? I suppose your ranch was hard hit, as well?”

“The entire crop was lost.”

“Sad, it is. Families losing their land all across the county. I am pleased that you'll be staying.” The reverend cast his gaze on Daniel and nodded slowly. “Mr. Lindsay, you couldn't be gaining a better wife.”

A better wife? Rayna felt the minister's words like burning arrows to her soul. In her heart, she could not be a wife to Daniel, not the way she'd been to Kol. “I would say I'm getting the better bargain gaining Daniel for my husband.”

She felt Daniel's gaze like a question in the air. She never wanted him to know what this was costing her. How with each breath she took, it felt like a part of her died a little more. The wind lashed as if in protest at the eaves, spattering rain against the dulled hue of the stained-glass windows.

Reverend Phillips, who'd been ever so good friends with Kol, cleared his throat. There was apology in his kind brown eyes as he laid his Bible on the plain wooden pulpit. “Shall I begin?”

At her side, Daniel nodded. He'd never let go of her hand, and because the sanctuary was so chilled, they were still in their coats. The vacancy of the long rows of empty benches felt as if it were the innermost part of
her. Void of any life as the good man at her side vowed to love and honor her, his voice rough and ragged, until death parted them.

“Rayna Amelia Ludgrin.” Reverend Phillips's words were spoken with compassion, as if he were sad, too. “Do you take this man…”

Her left hand felt curiously light. The place where Kol's ring used to be tingled. It was not a betrayal, but it felt that way, to turn her back on the love still alive in her heart, to close it up like a box and store it away in a dark place. She had new vows to make. “I do.”

And she would. She'd honor and cherish the man at her side with everything she had. Including her broken heart.

To her surprise, Daniel produced a ring from his shirt pocket. A slim band of gold. Simple and plain. The right ring for this practical wedding.

Her hand was stone-steady as she watched him slide the band on her finger. The faint echoes of memory, from so long ago, when she'd stood in this exact place bursting with love and joy and hope, made her eyes burn.

Not for loss, she realized. But with gratitude.

Heaven had granted her a beautiful life with Kol. One she'd always suspected that was rare in this world. The chance to love and to live with her soul mate. Give birth to his sons and to live day and night in the soft luxury of his love.

She saw now, as Daniel brushed the tears from her cheeks, how lucky she'd been. Few had the chance to love as she'd been loved. And now, for whatever reasons, providence had put this man in her life. A man who'd never known his family. Who, she guessed, had always been alone. It was not sadness she felt or sorrow
at the memories that echoed in her mind. It was understanding.

This man at her side was her husband now. As he leaned close and brushed a soft kiss on her cheek, she swore she could feel Kol, wherever he was, approving.

 

It was pride that glowed hot in Daniel's chest as he helped her down from the wagon. The gold ring caught his attention. His wife. That hard tangle of emotions that hurt in his chest had only become worse. He didn't know why, but he suspected it had to do with how he felt about her. And not just pride.

Tenderness tugged inside him as he held the door of the bank for her. That tenderness grew as she swept past him, sweet smelling, like spring flowers, and so female. Her dress was pretty on her, a modest dark blue, but it hugged her in all the right places. He wasn't particularly pleased with the hot lick of desire that was troubling him.

“Mr. Lindsay. Rayna.” Wright came out from behind a messy desk, obviously busy at work. “I have your papers ready here. I assume you two have married?”

“Just came from the church.” He laid a protective hand on Rayna's shoulder. Or, if he was honest with himself, possessive.

The banker got the hint. He stopped in midstride and nodded. “Then, please, come sit. We'll get right to work.”

“I appreciate it.” It was a lot he was about to take on, but as he held out a chair for Rayna, waiting for her to sit before he settled into the chair at her side, he was dead sure. He'd work twice as hard, that was all.

“Please read and sign these.” Mr. Wright pushed a pile of pages across his polished desk.

He couldn't read. There was no shame he felt in it. He'd never had the chance to go to school. He nudged the papers toward Rayna. “Would you?”

Her somber gaze met his. She nodded once. If a small part of him feared she might think less of him for his ignorance, it didn't show. And that part of him relaxed as she bent to the task of reading the words, the soft golden locks of her hair curling against her cheek.

The tenderness inside him bloomed in full.

Finally she reached the last page and nodded. “There's nothing out of the ordinary.”

Good. He took the ink-dipped pen Wright handed him and scratched his X on the line Rayna had pointed out to him. It was done. He handed the pen back. If he felt a little shaky over signing over his freedom to the bank, one look at Rayna calmed him.

Her words in the church came back to him.
Whatever hardship is ahead, you're not alone with it.

It was the first time in his life he wasn't alone. He reached out to take her hand, and the gentle pressure of her palm to his reassured him. She was no dream. He was more awake than he'd ever been.

He held the door for her. Walked on the street side of the boardwalk to protect her from the cold, blowing rain. Gave her his slicker to keep her dry as they drove home.

Home. There was a word with a new meaning. He'd first thought his cabin so fine. It was all his. Four walls and a tight roof. No drafty boardinghouse rooms, where he'd lived while he'd worked in the fields, following the crops, to earn enough money to homestead. He'd been mighty grateful for the humble dwelling that was clean and safe and dry. The first place he'd called home.