by Jillian Hart
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Ludgrin. I can give you a room in exchange for work, but not board. No, I just can’t do it.” Thora Arneson softened her words with an apologetic shrug. “Not with two growing boys. I can give you a discounted rate on board, but that is the best I can do in these hard times.”
Rayna knew the soft-spoken woman was simply being honest. She knew Thora from their school days, though she’d been several grades behind Rayna and they’d never been more than acquaintances. But working for someone as decent as Thora had to be better than the alternatives she dare not consider. “I could work more nights a week.”
“Three is all I can afford to offer you.”
“Then I would be grateful for the work.”
“Wonderful.” A rare smile touched the pale woman’s face, showing a surprising loveliness. “I am so sorry for your circumstances, and I know you will be a good employee. As I said, I don’t have a room available right now, but in a few weeks there will probably be space for you and your sons by then.”
“I can start work right away?”
“As soon as tonight, but I understand if you’d rather wait—”
“No, tonight is fine.” She needed the money. She needed all the security she could give her sons, and a weekly payday was the best place to start. “I can’t thank you enough, Thora.”
“You’re thanking me? Goodness, I’ve had the hardest time finding good workers. I will see you tonight at eight o’clock?”
It was done. As the somber shadows stretched across the town streets, Rayna gritted her jaw against the burning pain. Her shoes. She had to find something more practical, and yet, how could she afford it?
Mentally she counted the greenbacks tucked safely in her reticule. Between food and sundries she and the boys had needed through the week, the roll of fifties Kol had always kept in the house was quickly thinning.
As shoppers scurried along the boardwalk, hurrying about their late errands before supper, she lingered outside O’Dell’s, the finest clothier in all of Bluebonnet County. The front window displayed the fine wool skirts, lightly gathered and beautifully tailored new fashions for the winter to come.
So beautiful, her fingers itched to stroke the rich fabric. But she had no use for a fancy day dress, and the brushed-leather boots on display were no more sensible than the ones she now wore and out of her means.
The general store near the tracks had the best prices in town. She’d never shopped there, but Betsy did, and Betsy was a widow struggling to provide a living for herself. Yes, that was where she would start.
From now on, she would be practical and pennywise. She’d never managed a budget, but it was a matter of mathematics, right? She’d excelled at mathematics in her school days, and she wanted to keep her sons. Protect them.
No child should grow up little better than a slave. Remembering Daniel’s words, she fought back horror. There was no way on this earth she would allow her sons to spend the rest of their childhood years in hard labor.
She’d work her fingers to the bone and herself to death first.
Daniel had forgotten the exact reasons why he’d stopped going to taverns long ago. Maybe he’d needed tonight to remember why he preferred the lonely quiet to the smoky noise and easy pleasures for sale in the bad part of town.
Only the whiskey had been any good, but he’d paid a steep price for the two snifters he’d downed and had left smelling of cheap cigars. The card games held no interest for him, nor did the women parading around in their undergarments—he’d satisfied his curiosity over women, booze and gambling when he was young enough to be so foolish as to waste his hard-earned money.
He was no longer a foolish boy. Never wanted to be like those men spending their money and lives in dark places. It’d been thoughts of Rayna that had driven him there. The pleasant fragrance of her skin, the whisper of her hair falling loose over her shoulders, how big and tall he’d felt next to her dainty feminine softness.
On his way out of town, he rode past rows of houses, their small windows dark and quiet. Folks were tucked in for the night, sleeping while they could before dawn came and with it a hard day of work.
Daniel always wondered about houses like these with tended patches of grass where children played during the daylight hours, watched over by their mothers who cleaned and cooked and sewed. Was it as peaceful at it looked? Or was it just as desolate behind those closed windows and locked doors as the families he’d lived with in the country?
He supposed he’d never know. He just got to thinking about it because of his contact with Rayna. The first day he’d come knocking at her front door, he’d gotten a good glimpse inside that fancy house. Spent enough time with Kirk in the field to see a boy full of dreams and grit and innocence.
The boy had no idea what lurked in the hearts of some men. Kirk had grown strong with his life of love and safety. He’d never known hunger and, Daniel wagered, the slice of a bullwhip on his bare back. And never should.
It wasn’t his lookout. He’d learned long ago to take care of himself first, for no one else would. But he’d liked Kol, and he liked Kirk and Hans. And Rayna… Why, there was no denying he found a lot to admire in the woman. And it wasn’t only admiration he felt.
That troubled him, too. He was glad when the last row of houses gave way to sprawling fields, fallow and silent, blending with the black horizon and blacker sky. With the town far behind him now, he took a deep breath. He never felt at ease among so many people. Maybe he’d thought he could lose his problems in the noise and smoke of the tavern tonight, but he’d been wrong.
His troubles were still tangled up in his chest. The rocking gait of his gelding, the puff of wind against his face, the faint sound of a coyote calling and another answering far off across the prairie. The night was alive as an owl swooped by on wide, silent wings, hunting in the fields.
Daniel breathed deep and recognized the heavy clean scent of rain. He braced for it, having left his rain slicker at home, but didn’t mind it. He liked the rain and the night, almost as much as he liked the freedom of the wide-open space around him and above him.
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.
Chapter Eight
Rayna 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 presence. 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.