by Jillian Hart
It was hard to believe that come tomorrow morning, this would all be his. He’d be giving up too much of his freedom, that didn’t make him comfortable. But if he worked hard—and he would—he should be fine.
“Mr. Lindsay?” It was Kirk’s voice sounding uncertain in the shadows by the open door.
“Come on back.” He hefted down the first of the furniture he’d brought and leaned the headboard against the inside wall. “I suppose your ma told you what we plan to do.”
“Yes, sir.” The boy lingered in the aisle, safely out of reach of the lantern light.
He must have something on his mind, and that was an important thing. Daniel left the wagon bed half full to join the boy in the shadows. Although it was cold, near to freezing outside, he was overwarm from work.
He took advantage of the pump, which was nearby, and splashed cold water over his face. Then filled the dipper and drank deep. That gave him time to think of what he’d say, but it was Kirk who spoke first.
“I appreciate what you’ve agreed to take on an’ all. But this is my family. Not your lookout.” Kirk cleared his throat, for his voice was wavering although he stood unbowed in the dark. “You don’t need to marry my ma. I can take care of my ma and my brother. I’m man enough to do it.”
The boy’s message was clear. He didn’t want his father replaced so soon.
There was no way around that. Or, was there?
Chapter Eleven
Daniel took his time answering. He might know near to nothing about reading and ciphering, but he knew what it was like to be a man too young, as Kirk was forced to be now. And the remembering hurt like an old wound. Daniel dropped the dipper into the bucket, the pump spout was dripping—he’d fix that as soon as he could—and took his spot near Kirk.
He leaned up against the wall, considering what to say. “I know you’re man enough to look after your brother and your ma. You’re a hard worker. I’ve seen it myself. You could do fine going off to—what was it you were fixing on doing?”
“The north line of the railroad’s hiring.”
“Right.” Daniel considered that. “You’re strong enough and responsible enough to hold down that job, and that’s a tough job. Long, hard days sweatin’ in the sun without a break or freezin’ in the winter without a fire nearby. Sleeping in a tent. Every Sunday off, but there’s no point in coming home for a day. Not when you start at five sharp Monday morning.”
Kirk swallowed. “They pay well.”
“That they do. I can’t argue with you about that. I admire what you want to take on, Kirk.”
“Then you don’t gotta marry Ma. We can find a place in town, and not a room neither, but a house. We’ll do all right.”
“Yep. But consider this. Who’s here to take care of your ma? What if she should run into some trouble? You won’t be here to help her out. You’re old enough to know what happened to her in the barn this morning.”
“She had an argument with Mr. Dayton. I was to keep my little brother from seeing the cows being taken, but I should have been—” He made a choked, angry sound. “If I’d been there, he wouldn’t have pushed her down.”
“Is that what she told you?”
Kirk grew silent. “No, sir. She said she hurt it using the pitchfork, but I don’t think that’s the truth.”
Was Kirk so untouched by the ugliness of this world he couldn’t imagine what had happened to his mother? “No. You’re a man now, Kirk. You’ve got to know there are plenty of men who take what advantage they can. They don’t have to be evil men, or bad men, sometimes just desperate or in a bad pinch. They need money or the feeling of power that comes from hurting someone weaker.
“If you take that job, then there’ll be no one to keep your ma safe. She’s a widow. Folks have their opinions about women without a man to protect them. There are some who will take advantage.”
In the shadows, Kirk’s head bowed forward. He had to be thinking this through. He had to come to his own conclusions; Daniel wasn’t going to try to be a father to the boy. There was no way he could—one good thing he learned in his growing-up years.
“Have you considered that if I marry your ma, then she doesn’t have to work so hard? She can keep her house, the one that’s got to mean a lot to her. I intend to get a job through the winter, so there will be money enough to keep your ma and your brother warm and fed and healthy.”
“You sure have this all thought out. Begging your pardon, but we all loved Pa.”
“I can’t give you all the fine things your father did, but I promise you this. I’ll work hard. I’ll be fair. I’ll treat your ma right. That will be a far sight better for her, I think. But your opinion matters to me. Tell me what you think.”
Kirk dragged a hand through his hair. He was troubled. But he’d listened. He had to be at least considering the larger view.
“Ma wrote to my uncle, Pa’s brother. He’ll help us. I know he will.”
So Rayna hadn’t told him? Daniel wasn’t sure it was his place, but the boy had to know how lucky he was to have had the parents he did. “Do you know what I was doing when I was fourteen?”
No answer.
“I worked every day in the cotton fields.”
“Your pa was a cotton farmer?”
“Nope. I was an orphan. I was hired out to whoever would take me, and that year it was a man by the name of Nolan. He owned a lot of land, and he took on boys like me to work his fields, to plant and tend and harvest his crop. My hands were blistered from handling a hoe from dawn until night, and then they were torn raw from picking cotton. Did you know it grows on shrubs, sorta like rosebushes, with thorns that are sharp. Whew. I still have the scars.”
“What happened to your folks?”
“I don’t know. They fell sick, I guess. I was just a baby and no one cared, to tell the truth. Mr. Nolan wasn’t a good man, and that’s a year and a half of my life I try every day to forget. You don’t want to go work in your uncle’s fields just to earn enough bread to eat by the end of the day. I’m not saying your uncle is like some of the men I’ve worked for, but you might want to give this pause. There isn’t a better place out there, Kirk, than what you have right here.”
“My uncle wanted me to work in his fields?”
“He did. I saw the letter. He’d found work for Hans, too.”
“Oh.” As if shocked, the boy fell quiet again for a spell. “Pa always said that a good man treats a woman real fine. He wouldn’t want Ma working day and night. He wouldn’t want me leaving her and Hans alone, if I got that job.”
Daniel waited for the rest to come. He was comfortable with silence while Kirk mulled things over. He was a patient man. He breathed in the dark night. Scented the coming frost and the promise of rain by morning. Heard the hush of an owl’s wings glide past the open doors. The rustle of hay as the horses bedded down.
Finally, Kirk had his own answer. “If you marry Ma, then you have to treat her good. You can’t ever h-hurt her.”
“I’ve never hurt a woman in my life and I don’t plan to. Besides, I happen to share your pa’s opinion. A woman deserves a man’s respect, especially his wife. Think we can take good care of her, between the two of us?”
“I s’pose so. You need help unloading that wagon?”
“I’m almost done. It’s late. You’ve got school tomorrow?”
“And a mathematics exam.” As if that were a terrible fate, the boy headed off, stopping to pet the cat that slinked out of a stall. A few minutes later, the whap of a screen door told him Kirk was safely inside the house.
Wasn’t that something, a mathematics exam? Daniel didn’t know what all that might involve, but it was good for a man to have education. He’d signed papers he couldn’t read at the bank today. There would be more papers tomorrow before this land would be officially his. And every penny of the mortgage.
Hell, he hated debt. Still, it was worth it.
He worked late into the night. Until fog gathered in the cool air and s
ettled into his joints. The prairie was soundless as he headed home. The endless draws and knolls of the high prairie were hidden by mist and darkness. Not unlike a man’s future. Or a past he’d rather not think about.
As they always did in this weather, his arm and wrist began to ache like a bad tooth. Dampness settled into his bones as he rode one of the Clydesdales bareback home.
He’d brought up the past tonight, and he felt numb from the experience. Numb, deep inside, where a man’s true feelings hid. Like the fog cloaking the prairie, that’s the way he wanted those memories. It hadn’t been easy to talk about them tonight. Lord knew he never wanted to remember them again.
As if by luck, the fog thickened and hid the road ahead of him.
Grateful for the obscurity, he rode on.
“Ma?” Kirk’s whisper in the dark hallway was rusty with sleepiness. “Is that you? You’re home safe?”
Rayna hated that sound of worry in her son’s voice. “Of course I am. Daniel made sure of that. Why aren’t you sound asleep?”
“I guess I was just sorta listening for you.”
She could make out the shadow of her son, leaning against the doorjamb. Too grown up to want to accept the hug of comfort she wanted to give him. Kirk had been terribly close to his father. Was he having bad dreams, too?
Not that he’d tell her if he did. “Did Hans wake up at all?”
“No. He didn’t even have one nightmare that I could tell.”
Thank goodness for that. It was her hope that things would be easier for Hans from here on out. “Good night, then.”
“Ma?” His voice squeaked with emotion and he cleared his throat, his voice still in the process of changing. When he spoke, he sounded so very like his father. “Daniel told me about what our uncle did. Saying he’d found work for Hans and me.”
“Oh. I thought that you were better off not knowing that.”
“Nah. Daniel said that’s how he grew up. Workin’ for his keep. He was an orphan.”
So it’s true, that’s how he knew. She remembered the afternoon she’d received the brother’s letter. It’s a common fate, he’d said. And how he wanted to spare her and her boys the hardship he’d known.
Oh, Daniel. She’d wondered what hardships he’d endured as a boy, while she’d soaped and scrubbed sheets on a washboard. And couldn’t bear to think that he might have known about children working like servants long hours for their evening food because he’d been one of those children. It was unthinkable. And yet, she could see how easily it could happen.
How her children had come close to a similar fate.
Kirk yawned, apparently having said what he’d needed to. “I’ve got an exam in the morning. G’night.”
“Night.” Rayna listened to her son’s door click shut. So, Kirk had had second thoughts about working on the railroad.
Good. Grateful for that small miracle, she eased Hans’s door open, saw his motionless form cuddled beneath his covers. His breath came with the slow, relaxed cadence of a deep sleep.
Another good thing to be grateful for.
She eased the door closed, tiptoed the few steps down the hall. Now it was her turn to sleep, for however few hours she could manage it. You’d think with how tired she was, she’d be able to drift right off.
But no. She could feel the tension coiled so tight within her, she could barely move her neck enough to see to light the crystal lamp.
That done, the small pool of light spilled across the bed she’d made up on the floor. At least the feather tick felt almost as comfortable as it had on a bed frame. Her weary bones seemed to sigh when she eased onto the side of the mattress.
Sitting up, her knees bent, she could just reach her shoes. She unbuttoned and loosened the lacing, pulled them off and rubbed her aching arches. That felt good.
With a sigh, she glanced about the room. There was no moon to shimmer through the curtains, and it was just as well, for it would only shine into emptiness, save for her feather tick and personal items on the floor.
Already her life had changed dramatically and Kol had hardly been gone from their lives at all.
If she closed her eyes, she could still feel him in memory. Imagine the way he filled up a room with his hearty, jovial presence. The scent of his tobacco—
She’d always been after him not to smoke that blasted pipe in the house. The warm love that had simply filled the air between them and shone like a light in the deepest places of her heart.
Kol, wherever you are, I miss you.
There was no answer of course. Just the stillness of the house. The rustle as she changed into her flannel nightgown and climbed beneath the covers. She tucked the edges of the sheets and blankets over the top edge of the quilt.
She’d made the double wedding ring while Kol had been courting her.
Oh, what good memories those were. She’d been so young then, what a funny girl she’d been, worrying about pin curling her hair so it would fall in ringlets around her face and working Saturdays sewing for the tailor in town to earn material for new dresses.
She recalled how she and her mama had spent endless hours of an evening sewing and crocheting and embroidering pretty things for her hope chest. How she’d light up with excitement and sheer adoration whenever she saw Kol.
They’d been young and in love and, oh, how wonderful that time had been. This quilt was the last thing she’d made for her hope chest, with Mama’s help. They’d sewed and pieced and pinned the entire thing so it would be ready for her wedding night.
Drops tapped on her pillow, one after another. Just thinking of him made her relax. Of how he’d take her home from school each night, for he’d graduated the year before. How he would buy her butterscotch, her favorite, and serenade her with that horrible singing voice of his until they were both laughing and in each other’s arms.
Could he forgive her for what she was about to do?
Troubled, she lay awake until shadows came into the room, letting her know that dawn was on its way.
Daniel was well awake before dawn broke on the eastern sky. Long streaks of rain clouds gathered overhead, their brooding underbellies painted purple and orange by the light. If he hustled, then he’d be able to get the livestock moved before it was time to take Rayna to town.
To get married. Now there was something he didn’t figure he’d ever do. Not at this time in his life.
When he’d been younger, sure. He’d always thought to meet a nice lady, maybe he’d like the look of her or the way she talked or just something that would let him know she’d be a fine wife.
But that had proved damn near impossible, seeing as how young women weren’t nearly as plentiful as men looking to be married in this rugged territory. Not that he’d know how to go about courtin’ anyhow.
Since he’d been content enough by himself, it hadn’t mattered so much. After sixteen years of overcrowded orphanages in the winters and boiling hot attics packed full of other boys, who were field workers, too, and not enough beds, of chaos and heartbreak and violence best not remembered, he rather liked the quiet.
It was a luxury, having all this space to himself. The cabin wasn’t big, but it was roomy in his opinion. And with acres of his very own land spread out around him, why, he was grateful for that. Grateful every day.
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.