Montana Wife (Historical) (9 page)

Freedom. That's what he'd learned to prize more than anything. So he should put aside thoughts of pampered Rayna Ludgrin and her sons.

He had everything he'd ever wanted. It was more than he'd ever believed he'd actually get. So, why didn't that sit right with him? Why did something inside him tug northward, toward her land, and make him wonder what she was doing now?

It was past midnight. She'd be asleep, that incredible fall of gold hair on her pillow. There would be no plain muslin night rail for her. He'd bet every acre of his land on that.

No, she'd be in a pretty nightgown with flowers printed on the soft fabric. Sleeping in a bedroom big enough to live in, with furniture and frills and comfort.

And if he wondered what it would be like to know the warmth found in her bed and the gentle heat of her touch, why, he was just wondering.

Not wanting.

That was one of his first lessons in life. Never want what you can't have.

He followed the road east, away from her and toward home.

R
ayna beat the dawn home. By the time she'd tethered the gelding in the barnyard, the golden rim of the rising sun peered over the eastern edge of the prairie. She raced her shadow to the back steps. Before she could reach for the doorknob, it turned and Hans launched into her skirts.

Without a word, he clung to her, fists full of fabric, shaking with tears.

Her exhaustion vanished. She knelt and pulled him into her arms. Her sweet baby held her tight, his face wet with silent tears. He rocked with soundless sobs.

Kirk closed the stove door on the newly built fire and worry dug harsh lines into his face. “He kept waking up last night, Ma. He wanted you. I tried—”

“I know you did. Thanks, honey.” Her Kirk looked as exhausted as she felt. As hurt as Hans, who held her without a sound. His hold so strong it bruised.

She held him more tightly. If he needed holding, then that's what she'd do. Cradling him to her, she straightened, working hard to balance his weight. Her exhausted muscles burned and she panted with the effort it took to cross over to her chair next to the stove.

“You left.” Hans sobbed into her neck, his fingers digging into her throat. “You weren't here.”

“No, sweet boy. I told you, remember? I had to go into town and work at my new job.”

“I don't want you to go. No.” Broken, he sobbed harder. His grip intensifying as if he could keep her with him by sheer will, as he hadn't been able to keep his father.

She kissed his brow, stroked his fine, tousled hair. Rocked him until his sobs quieted and he lay calm and spent. His hold on her did not slacken.

Kirk placed a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of her. “I best get to the morning chores.”

Rayna thought to correct him, for now they were her chores to do, but Hans needed her more. She watched with her heart in her throat as Kirk pulled on his barn coat and boots and, just as his father would have done, gathered up the empty milk pails and egg basket and marched out into the morning.

The coffee steamed, and while she watched it cool, she wondered how to make this move easier on her sons. For it wasn't simply a move to a different place, but a change of life, as well. Her cleaning job at the boardinghouse was not enough by far. She would need to find other work to fill her days.

And if she could not get enough cash from the sale of her jewelry, for it was the only thing she had to value that was not encumbered, then Kirk would have to quit school to help earn a living.

Don't think about crossing that bridge yet.
She'd keep her attention on the problems she already had. Not go looking for even more worry with problems too far ahead to be able to solve now.

What was she going to do about Hans? He seemed
too young to understand as he clutched her. “It's going to be all right,” she whispered in his ear, loving him, just loving him. “Mama is going to make sure of it.”

“But you went away. And Kirk said that we're gonna have to leave, too.” Hans gave a final sob, a wavering, vulnerable sound. When he pulled away, pure pain dulled his deep blue eyes. “How is Pa gonna find us? If we go away, he won't know where to look when he comes back.”

“Oh, baby.” Her heart shattered all over again. “Pa isn't coming back. He's going to stay in heaven.”

“No. He's gonna come. I'm gonna be a very, very good boy.”

Determined, as if that would make Kol alive again, Hans climbed off her lap, ignoring her as she tried to catch him. He didn't want to listen. He ran from the room and she didn't know whether to let him go or to bring him back. Which would be better for him?

A movement in the yard drew her attention and kept her from that decision. There, at the back gate, was Clay Dayton on one side of the fence and Kirk at the other. Her oldest seemed to be holding his boot against the gate, effectively keeping it shut as Dayton gestured angrily. What the—?

“Mr. Dayton?” Rayna hurried down the steps. “What is the matter?”

“I've come for my cows.” A stream of tobacco shot through the gaps in the fence to splat on the sodden grass at her feet.

The brown juice mixed with the remnants of last night's rain, darkening the mud on the ground. “I paid Tom Wright for them last night. Said I'd come over to save him a trip and git 'em myself.”

“Then let Mr. Wright come take them first, like he
did with the horses.” Kirk's knuckles turned white as he gripped the gate's top board, holding it forcibly closed. “Ma, I don't trust him.”

“Now ain't that cute?” Dayton's harsh chuckle was meant to cut deep. “A boy protecting his mama. Well, step aside, son. I've come to take what's mine.”

Kirk blushed with anger, his jaw snapping tight.

He was still a boy and no match for Dayton's sly ways. Rayna stepped forward, gently nudged her son aside and asked him to go into the house, check on the fire and on his brother. Kirk, looking furious enough to fight, stalked off with enough temper to melt the early snow on the mountain peaks.

Rayna waited until the slam of the screen told her he was safely inside the house before she leveled her neighbor with, what Kol had always called, The Eye. “I'll thank you to be courteous as long as you are standing on my property. Is that understood?”

“Sweetheart, the land your pretty little feet are standing on will be mine in a matter of days. Then we'll see if you're whistlin' a different tune. Now, I want my cows.”

“Fine, then stay here.” Rayna whirled away, her exhaustion forgotten. Of course Dayton was striking a deal to buy this land from the bank—before it went to auction. He was the only landowner for miles around that probably had the means to acquire more property after this year's disastrous storm. Why did that make her so mad?

Kol wouldn't have minded. He and Dayton had gotten on well enough as neighbors, but she'd never liked the man. And now…now, it could be her imagination but she felt—she didn't know how she felt alone in his pres
ence. She couldn't remember a time when she'd spoken to Dayton alone. Kol or the boys had always been with her.

She was simply tired. Imagining things, that was all. She'd get a few hours of sleep and then get started with her day. The barn echoed around her as she tugged open the heavy doors.

Sunlight sifted through the cracks in the boards, lighting the way through the hay-strewn path to the stalls. Empty stall after stall, gates open. Just get the halters and give Dayton the animals.

The sooner she handed them over, the easier it would be. And then—

A footfall whispered on the dirt floor behind her. Her neck prickled as she turned. Clay Dayton's long, lanky form made a grotesque shadow at her feet. Then the shadow disappeared entirely as the barn door drew shut.

Blocking her way out.

“I said to wait by the gate.” Her voice sounded thin and small, echoing in the rafters overhead. Not at all the way she meant to sound.

Dayton looked amused as he took off his hat. “I don't take no orders from a little woman. Now, it's time you listened to me. And listened good.”

“The cows are here.” She felt exposed despite the bulk of wool and flannel and muslin that shielded her body. Exposed and alone and…small.

Dayton stalked closer. “You can't do this alone. Look at this place. All your horses are gone. Next it'll be the beef cows in the field. I heard about your job in town—”

“How did you—”

“I've got my ways. I hear things.” He spat again, juice puddling on the hard-packed earth between them.
“It's a shame, it is. You're a fine woman, Rayna. Too fine to wear yourself out working the day and night through.”

The way Dayton said it, it didn't sound as if he were truly concerned. It sounded as if—

Warning fluttered in her midsection and she grabbed the halters from the nails in the wall. Briskly, she crossed in front of him, focusing hard on the cows watching her silently.

“I'm worried about you.” His fingers bit into her upper arm, stopping her.

The flutters in her stomach turned to ice. “I didn't know that it was any of your concern.”

“You and your husband have been my neighbors for, what? Over a decade? Kol would want me to keep an eye out for you.”

“I'm sure Kol, wherever he is, is grateful.” She shook off his grip, surprised he let go, and hurried to the nearest stall.

The ice in her middle began to break apart into sharp, jittery shards. She dropped the halters on the closest stall rail and took off toward the front door.

“They're your animals now,” she said over her shoulder. “Take them and please go.”

“Whoa, hang on, Rayna.” His hurried step slammed after her. “Don't go thinkin' I'm about to take orders from a woman. Just because you had Kol wrapped around your little finger, doesn't mean that you can do that with me.”

The jitters turned to fear. She needed away from him and she needed it now. Skidding to a stop, she seized the heavy double door latch and struggled with the two-by-four rod.

Dayton's hand slammed down next to hers, stopping the door. “Although I might be willin' to help you out—you know what I mean—”

His hot breath shivered against her bare nape. Bile rose in her throat. “I know what you mean. The answer is no.”

“Now don't be hasty. I know you're upset, what with losin' your man and all. What woman wouldn't be?”

She broke away.

He followed her, stalking her back down the center aisle. The slow grin on his face tugged downward, into a frightening grimace. One that said he intended to get what he wanted. “You've got to be practical. A woman can't provide for two growing boys. You need a horse. I have an extra team. You need things. I can get them for you. For a price. Let's say, a barter of services.”

“Stay away from me, Mr. Dayton.” She walked faster. The end doors were locked up as tight as the others had been. There was no way out. Not unless Dayton let her go.

“That's no way to talk to a man with an extra milk cow. A man who's in a position to help you out, if only you'd just be—” He caught up to her at the other end doors. Laid a possessive hand on her nape and squeezed. “Friendly. That's all I'm askin', Rayna. That you and I get to be real good
friends.
”

She fought his hold, determined to face him so he could see the mettle of her and that she refused to be afraid. Her morals would not be compromised. She lifted her chin as his hand closed on her throat.

“There's no way out, Rayna. You can't outrun me anyway. You're a weak little woman, and a widow in need of a man. You're such a pretty thing, all sweet and
enticing. I bet you know just how to please a man, don't you? With a mouth like yours so plump and seductive—”

She opened her mouth, but she couldn't draw in enough air to answer him. His thumb dug into the base of her throat as she stared at him, unable to believe what he was saying. And yet his tobacco-stained lips descended toward hers, his knee jabbed between hers.

“N-no—”

The heel of his free hand slammed against the side of her jaw. Pain exploded through her teeth and cheekbone and ratcheted through her head. She couldn't drag in air, she couldn't think, all she could see was his darkly glittering eyes and the triumph in them.

He outweighed her by a good hundred pounds. She tried to launch off the door and he laughed, hauling her along the wall, the bumps of her spine colliding with the wood as he dragged her to the corner where she was trapped.

Trapped. She could smell his excitement. Feel the trembling rise and fall of his quick breathing. This couldn't be happening, she couldn't let this happen. She had to stop him, she had to.

But he was too strong. Her head reeled from his blow and blood trickled from inside her mouth. She couldn't swallow, couldn't breathe, her chest swelling up, her vision was swimming, she was vaguely aware of the jangle of a belt buckle loosening—

No! The single word tore through her entire being from the bottom of her soul. Think! She needed a weapon. If she could just reach a little farther along the wall—

Aware of a cool draft on her knees and thighs and the thick taste of panic on her tongue, she tried to think. Betsy's story flashed into her thoughts, but she was off
balance. She couldn't shift her weight to get in a good kick to his shin. But she could inch her fingertips along the wall as far as she could reach.

Please, let there be something within my reach.
Wait— The smoothness of a leather driving glove collided with her searching fingers. A glove? No good.

She kept searching, stretching nearly as far as her arm could go as she heard the pop of a trouser button ping off the wall and roll along the hard-packed ground.

Please, let there be a hoof pick.
Or a currycomb— Her middle finger jammed into something cold. Metal slid beneath her fingernail. She bit her lip, moaning at the pain shooting beneath the quick. She reached again—

“You and I can strike a deal, Rayna.” Dayton caught her hand and his grip bruised deep as he twisted her wrist, torquing her arm back against the door. “But if you hit me with that currycomb, then you'll have to pay for it. I'm not going to force you. No, just give you a taste of what's waiting for you out there in the world.”

“Stop it, Clay. I want you to leave.”

“When I'm good and ready. When you and I come to an understanding. I'll let you keep your house and your pretty things. If you are willing to pay me in rent and in
other
things.” He ground closer until she could feel that part of him hard against her hip. “A widow gets lonely in her bed without a man to satisfy her. I'd be helping you out. Your needs satisfied and a roof over your pretty head. Think about it. I'd be real good to you.”

Bile bubbled upward. What she would give to have gotten hold of that currycomb. She'd like to whack him where he was most vulnerable and watch him writhe, but with the pain bursting through the ball of her
shoulder joint and streaking down her arm, she didn't dare move.