Love Finds You in Wildrose, North Dakota

by Tracey Bateman

  Guilt niggled at him. A woman shouldn’t homestead alone, eat alone…sleep alone. Again he wondered if perhaps he had made the wrong decision.

  Sarah’s wail pulled him back to the task at hand. “All right, sweetheart. Let’s go get you some milk.”

  By the time he came back up to the kitchen, Rosemary had composed herself and was slicing bread. “Let’s see,” she said, the tears held at bay as she began to organize her thoughts out loud. “I’ll take them whatever stew we don’t eat tonight, and I made three loaves of bread, so of course I’ll take one of those. No, I’d best take two. There are five children.”

  She grew silent, and he glanced up from filling the baby’s feeder. Her eyes rested on Sarah with a troubled frown.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Finn, do you think Sarah looks healthy?”

  He screwed the lid back on the jar of milk and handed it to her. “Now, Rosemary, don’t go borrowing trouble. Just because someone died doesn’t mean Sarah will.”

  “Of course it doesn’t mean that. I’m not a ninny. It’s just that her cheeks aren’t red and healthy like the Fischer children’s were. I was just thinking maybe we could get the doc to take a look at her.”

  “Doc Richards said to bring her to him if she doesn’t hold down the diluted milk. But she’s been doing pretty well with it, and you have to admit, she’s bigger.” He took a seat in one of the kitchen chairs and settled the tube along his arm so it didn’t get twisted while he slid the rubber nipple into Sarah’s hungry mouth.

  “She’s growing some,” she nodded. “You’re right. And I’m thankful she’s holding down the milk.”

  Finn stared down at the baby. Come to think of it, she did still look a little pale. “If it’ll set your mind at ease, I’ll take Sarah there one evening this week.”

  “It would. Thank you.” She went back to calculating. “I have strudel, but why on earth would I take strudel to them? Agnes makes it to melt in your mouth. Mine is only so-so. You should take it home with you when you leave tonight. It’ll make a good breakfast before the plowing tomorrow. Oh, I know! I baked a cake yesterday for Rolf’s birthday. There is over half left. I’ll take that.” A relieved smile touched her lips.

  “Do you want me to drive you in the wagon?” Finn heard himself asking.

  Rosemary seemed just as surprised at his question as he was. “Don’t you need to plow?”

  “Well, I won’t be able to with Sarah anyway.”

  “I can take Sarah with me to the Fischers’ while you work in your field. I don’t mind.”

  “She won’t be too much for you to care for, with the wagon and food?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Thank you, Rosemary,” he said, hearing the relief in his voice. “I desperately need a full day to work.”

  “I’d be happy to keep her.” She smiled at the baby. “I’ll keep her every day while you work the fields, if you need me to. I–is that why you came?”

  He nodded. “I know I should have come sooner to give you my best wishes on the homestead.” The truth was, he still felt that a woman shouldn’t try to run a homestead alone. Even Rosemary. At some point she would need help, and there would be no one here to take some of the burden.

  “Well, you know I’ll keep her so you can work in the fields.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” He met her gaze. “I’ve been trying to do this alone, and I can’t. I owe you an apology for treating you so badly.”

  She smiled. “Yes, you do. But I forgive you.”

  “There is no good excuse for the way I acted.”

  “Yes, there is.” She set a bowl of stew in front of him and a spoon next to it. “It’s called grief.”

  As she turned to go back to the stove, Finn reached out and took her hand. She whipped back around. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Rosemary. I’ve reconsidered what we discussed that day at my house.”

  “Which topic?” Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face.

  He drew in a deep breath and expelled it. “Do you still want to get married?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Finn blinked in surprise at her frank and quick response. “Okay then, when the preacher comes through, we can say our vows—or we can make a trip to Williston, but we can’t do that in one day, so we’d need a chaperone.”

  “Finn, wait a minute.” Rosemary sent him a tender smile and shook her head. “You’ve misunderstood me. I want to get married when the right man comes along. Finn, you’re a good man or Rachel wouldn’t have loved you so devotedly. But I don’t want to marry someone who will always be looking for traits that remind him of his first wife.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing that.”

  “Really?” She sat in the chair catty-corner from him. “How many times since you arrived have you compared me to Rachel, either favorably or unfavorably?”

  “None. Well, yes, a few times. But it’s hard not to when you look exactly like her.”

  “I know, Finn. How could you not compare us? Especially when you loved her and you don’t love me.” She stood and walked to the stove, filling her own bowl. She set the slices of bread on a plate before carrying both dishes to the table. “The thing is, I don’t want to fall in love with you—as I will surely do if we marry—and be jealous of my sister’s memory because you can’t help loving her.”

  “That’s not what would happen,” Finn protested weakly, sounding unconvincing even to himself. He couldn’t imagine Rosemary loving him. She was independent and wanted things her own way. Most likely, they’d fight all the time. But at least Sarah would have a mother.

  But Rosemary wasn’t finished with the reasons why she wouldn’t marry him. “I don’t want to be a poor substitute for you to pour your grief into, Finn. When I marry, I want to be my husband’s first choice.” She smiled and her face softened, stealing his breath. She looked so much like Rachel. “For now, I want to help with Sarah. And if you remarry, I hope you’ll allow me to stay in Sarah’s life as dear old Aunt Rosemary.”

  “Of course. You’ll always be her aunt, no matter what.”

  “Good. That’s all I want.” She looked down at the baby. “I think she’s sleeping. Do you want me to put her in the basket so you can eat?”

  “I’d appreciate it.” He gently pulled the nipple from Sarah’s mouth and set the feeder on the table. Rosemary lifted her from his arms and Finn’s stomach dipped at her nearness. He shoved aside the feeling. After all, it had been awhile since he’d held a woman. And she looked exactly like his wife. That’s all there was to it.

  Still, when Rolf walked into the kitchen a few minutes later without being invited then grabbed a bowl and sat across from him, he didn’t have to analyze anything to recognize jealousy when it slammed him in the gut.

  Chapter Thirteen

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  Rosemary’s heart felt as though an anvil had fallen on it. She couldn’t imagine what Agnes and the children were going through. And what would Agnes do to make a living without her husband? At least the land belonged to them. Agnes had told her they’d proved up just a few months ago. That had to be a relief.

  Baby Sarah started fussing just a couple of minutes from the Fischers’, so Rosemary did her best to calm her without stopping to feed her. When she grew close enough to see the house, there were three wagons in front and men were carrying belongings from the house. Agnes wept but didn’t try to stop them. Were she and the children moving away?

  Rosemary yanked hard on the reins and the horses stopped. She lifted Sarah from the basket, and immediately her wails ceased. The baby was getting a little spoiled, but Rosemary couldn’t help that right now.

  Agnes looked up and held out her arms when she spied Rosemary.

  “Oh, Agnes, I’m so sorry. I would have been here sooner, but I just learned about Heinrich yesterday.”

  “It is sad. So sad,” she said. “Your Rachel. My Heinrich.” She looked at Sarah and frowned. “This is Rachel�
��s baby?”

  Rosemary smiled and relinquished the baby to Agnes’s open arms. “This baby does not look healthy. She is so small, and her skin and eyes…they do not shine.” She focused her gaze on Rosemary. “What has the wet nurse been eating? She is not making good milk for Rachel’s baby.”

  “There is no wet nurse, Agnes. We have to feed her milk from the cow through a feeder Finn bought when Rachel was too ill to have any milk of her own.” She glanced about as the men continued to come and go. “Agnes, are you moving away from here? Did you sell your land?”

  She shook her head as Marta joined them. She placed her arm around her mother. “It is good to see you again, Fräulein Jackson.”

  “Thank you, Marta. What is happening?”

  “My papa.”

  Agnes snapped her head around and gave Marta a fierce stare. “Do not say bad things about your papa. Heinrich was very goot man and this vicked bank man haf swindled him.”

  “What happened?” Rosemary still couldn’t make sense of the half sentences and poor English, which appeared to be worse when Agnes was upset.

  “Tell her, Marta,” Agnes said.

  “Papa…”

  “Vas swindled by the vicked bank man.” Agnes waved her hanky toward Marta with one hand while she held Sarah with the other. “Tell her, Marta.”

  “Mama, I will try to tell her. Please do not be so upset.”

  Rosemary reached out and touched Marta’s arm. “Tell me.”

  “Papa’s plow broke, as it had many times. It was old and very much repaired. The last time, Papa said we must have a new one for planting this season, so after harvest when it appeared we did not make enough to buy seed and food and shoes and materials for clothing, Papa went to the bank to ask for money.”

  “For a loan?” Rosemary asked, her stomach sinking at the implication of what was coming.

  Marta gave a sad nod.

  “So I guess what you’re saying is that your papa mortgaged the homestead.”

  “Yes, Fräulein Jackson.” Marta’s eyes were troubled and shone with unshed tears. “And now these men are taking our things, and they tell us we must leave our land as well.”

  Rosemary slipped her arm around Agnes’s shoulders and the woman sank against her. “I’m so sorry.”

  Agnes sniffed. “Thank you, Rosemary.”

  Rosemary realized Sarah hadn’t whimpered once since going into Agnes’s arms. She opened her mouth to say as much then realized the baby was covered with Agnes’s shawl the way Rosemary had seen Agnes cover Gerta when she was nursing. “Agnes! What are you doing?”

  “Rachel’s baby is not healthy. Cow milk is for cow babies.”

  “You mean calves, Mama,” Marta said.

  “Yes, calves.”

  Rosemary looked from one to the other. “But what about Gerta?”

  “Gerta is big enough for cow milk now.” She smiled. “It is time to vean her. For now, I have milk for both.”

  “Listen, do you really believe Sarah looks pale and pasty because she isn’t getting the right food?”

  “Of course. There is no question.”

  In Rosemary’s mind, there was no question that Agnes would have to come to the homestead, or Rosemary would have to look for a wet nurse. She had prayed for God to help her find a way to make the baby healthy. Perhaps in this time of grief, God had chosen a way to help them all.

  “Agnes, where do you intend to go after today?”

  “They say ve cannot stay in our home. Vicked bank man.”

  Impatience pricked her, then guilt. After all, the woman was losing her home—of course she would be upset. Still, an idea was forming in Rosemary’s mind, and there was no reason to wait. “Yes, they are taking your home. There is nothing we can do about that. But where will you go?”

  “It is getting varmer.” She shrugged. “Ve vill sleep under the stars.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  Agnes frowned and Rosemary hurried to explain. “Will you come with me and be Sarah’s nurse? If you don’t want to continue after she’s healthy and growing better, we’ll look into another method of feeding her.”

  A look of utter horror crossed Agnes’s florid features. “I cannot leave my children, Rosemary.” She glanced down at Elsa, who clung to her skirts and peeked shyly at Rosemary.

  “Oh, Agnes,” Rosemary laughed, “of course not. I have a solution for us all, if everyone will just listen and cooperate.” And she wasn’t positive Finn would, although he had no choice about Agnes feeding Sarah. Rosemary wouldn’t give him the option of turning her away.

  Curiosity gleamed in Agnes’s eyes. “Vat do you suggest?”

  “The two older boys are big enough to work in the fields, yes?”

  Agnes straightened her shoulders. “Of course. Strong like grown man.” Pride was evident in her tone. “Heinrich taught them vell.”

  Rosemary nodded, relief flowing through her. “Finn is in desperate need of help on his farm. The baby has him so far behind, he hasn’t gotten any plowing done. If he could get plowing and planting done together, he won’t miss the peak growing season.”

  Excitement built and she knew it flowed through her words. She loved when Providence seemed to be working on her behalf. “The boys can stay in the bunkhouse with my worker, Rolf, and go to Finn’s each morning. Your job would be to take care of Sarah—and Elsa and Gerta, of course—and help with meals.” Rosemary finished up with a great sense of satisfaction. The plan couldn’t have been more perfect.

  “And what should I do, Fräulein?”

  Rosemary turned to Marta. “What do you know about sheep?”

  Marta’s eyes sparkled. “I know much about them. Before coming here, Papa worked for a family who had sheep. We all learned to care for them.”

  “Perfect. Then you will help Rolf with my sheep.”

  “Agnes, you and Gerta may take my room, and I will sleep in the loft with Marta and Elsa. As long as they stay on their own side of the room.” She winked at Elsa, and the little girl buried her face in her mother’s skirt. “I do not want their ice-cold feet in my back again.”

  A question seemed to lurk in Agnes’s eyes.

  Rosemary smiled. “You’re wondering why I have a separate home?”

  “Ja,” she answered softly. “I vas expecting to hear of your marriage to Herr Tate.”

  “Finn didn’t want me to stay, so I took over the homestead next to his when the Freemans left to go back to Missouri.”

  “Finn Tate is a foolish man.” Agnes scowled.

  “I agree.” Rosemary shrugged. “But he was probably right about the marriage. However, we will need to convince him that Sarah must stay at our house. And that won’t be easy.”

  “When he sees his baby girl getting better, he vill not be so stubborn.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  Without a kind word to the widow or her children, the men who had been sent to take the furnishings climbed into the wagons and left. Rosemary glared after them. At least they hadn’t locked the door to keep her out.

  “Let’s go see if there’s anything left to salvage,” she suggested. Her mind went back to just three weeks ago when she had stayed with this family. Their lively laughter and deep faith and warm openness had caused her to love them. And now they were out without anywhere to go. It wasn’t right. But their circumstances proved how easily fortunes could turn in this harsh land. The thought made her even more determined to keep her land safe for Sarah.

  The satiated baby lay content and drowsy on Agnes’s shoulder as they walked inside and Marta rounded up the rest of the children. Agnes’s perfectly cozy home had been reduced to a bare room with tattered blankets and strewn clothing. There were a few books from which the children did lessons, but the men hadn’t left much else. Even Agnes’s pots and pans and dishes were gone.

  Elsa leaned against her ma’s arm. “Will we perish now, Mama?”

  Her words jolted Rosemary. That she could say them so calmly broke her heart.
>
  “We vill not perish.” Agnes smiled down at Elsa. “Ve vill go to Fräulein Jackson’s home to help her cook and clean and take care of the baby.” She handed Sarah down to the eight-year-old. “You must learn to help Mama take care of her.”

  Elsa smiled. “I like her. She is a good baby. Like Gerta.”

  Agnes reached out and took Rosemary’s hand. “You are God’s angel to me. You haf saved my children.”

  Rosemary squeezed the work-worn hand. She looked at Elsa holding Sarah and could have sworn the baby’s color was already getting better. “And you are saving mine.”

  Chapter Fourteen

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  Finn fought the moisture threatening his eyes as he drove his wagon filled with the cradle and all Sarah’s gowns and diapers to Rosemary’s homestead. He knew it was the best solution for now. He’d be a fool not to accept the offer.

  The baby had slept with Mrs. Fischer last night, but he had promised to bring over the cradle after he finished in the fields today. And so even though his heart ached at the thought of being without his baby, he was keeping his word in order to get her healthy.

  All in all, Finn knew Mrs. Fischer’s presence was a gift, and she couldn’t very well stay at his homestead with her children. But knowing this was for the best and feeling good about his daughter living at Rosemary’s homestead were two different things.

  He wanted to blame Rosemary—to say this was exactly what she’d wanted all along, to take Sarah away from him. But he knew that wasn’t fair. He also knew he should be feeling a deep sense of gratitude not only for the woman willing to feed his daughter, but to Rosemary for having the forethought to organize everyone’s position.

  Having the two boys to help in the fields would more than halve his workload and put him back on the right track to harvest the fields when the rest of the farmers went to harvest. The relief nearly overwhelmed him, just knowing he’d be able to start buying lumber again for his new house.

  He pulled his wagon to a stop and expelled a weighted breath. As he climbed down from the seat, the door to the house opened. Rosemary stood on the porch holding Sarah around the waist, facing outward toward him. Coop, of course, sat at her side, watching over his mistress and the baby. “Look, Sarah,” Rosemary said, “there’s your pa. Say ‘Hi, Pa.’ ”