Love Finds You in Wildrose, North Dakota

by Tracey Bateman

  “Indeed? I’m surprised you even recognize honesty when you see it.”

  The humor faded from his eyes. “And how are things on my property, Miss Jackson?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been on your property.”

  “The sheep are well? No mishaps?”

  If she’d had any doubts as to who had ordered the barn fire, his last question certainly would have removed them. But she refused to play into his game. She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  His eyebrows rose. “No mishaps at all? Where is that honesty we were just admiring so?”

  “Sir, there have been no mishaps on my property.”

  “I must have gotten the wrong information, then. I was told there had been.” His eyes dared her to deny it, but again Rosemary refused to give in.

  “None, sir. You must have been misinformed. We have most definitely not had a mishap.”

  “You’re telling me your barn did not catch on fire.”

  “No, it did not.”

  “You are lying, young lady.”

  The music stopped as the dance ended. She glared at him. “No, sir. I never lie. There were no mishaps. Mishaps are accidents. My barn did not catch fire; it was deliberately set on fire by you or one of your men. But you don’t scare me, Mr. Clayton. And you can’t have my land.”

  She spun on her heel and walked off the dance floor. Finn met her halfway, intercepting Mr. Clayton, who had followed with anger blazing in his eyes. Finn leveled his gaze at the older man. “Leave her alone, Clayton.”

  So far, the other guests of the mayor’s dance hadn’t noticed the tension. Rosemary had continued smiling during their conversation and hadn’t left him until the dance was over. “Surely you don’t want to make a scene, Mr. Clayton,” she said.

  He glanced about as the music picked up for the next dance. “This is far from over, my dear.”

  “I didn’t think otherwise.”

  He glided away, and she turned to Finn, her heartbeat slowing to normal. “Thank you.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “You’re not angry that I interfered?”

  “Everyone needs someone by their side sometimes, Finn.” She smiled. “I’m not foolish enough to think otherwise.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  ...........................

  The late July sun beat down on Finn and his workers as they labored to finish rebuilding Rosemary’s barn. He’d been to a lot of barn raisings before he moved to the Dakotas, where the communities had pulled together, making a day of it…but that hadn’t been the case with this barn. The community was too spread out, and Rosemary hadn’t been homesteading long enough to make many friends. And she’d certainly made just the opposite with Clayton. They had already been working for a week, and Finn anticipated at least one more, perhaps two. But at least the timber framing had been done, although he’d had to hire out as far as Williston to find men who weren’t afraid to cross Clayton.

  The heavy beams were now raised, and they were beginning to nail on the boards for the roof. He climbed down from the ladder and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping the sweat from his face and neck, Finn looked over their handiwork and had to admit that the barn was coming along nicely. The six Germans he’d found to work for him were strong, hard-working, and barely took a break. He knew they were uncomfortable at first over Rosemary’s insistence that they take their breakfast and supper meals in the house. There wasn’t enough room around the kitchen table, but the bunkhouse had a table as well, and instead of having to haul food out to the bunkhouse, she had enlisted Rolf and Peter to carry it into the house. It made for a crowded living room.

  “After all,” she had explained when Finn voiced his uncertainty, “these men are away from their families, trying to make ends meet. The least we can do is feed them properly. It’s only for a couple of weeks.”

  Agnes had objected to her two young sons sleeping in a bunkhouse with men she didn’t know, and Afonso and Heinrich objected to the humiliation of sleeping in the house with the women. So Finn had taken pity on the lads and offered them a place to sleep in his soddy. In return, they managed his fields for him and made sure the sprouts weren’t wilted or being stolen by various insects or prairie dogs.

  “I thought you might be thirsty.”

  Finn turned at the sound of Rosemary’s voice. She wore a cotton dress of light blue, the first time he’d seen her in anything other than dark colors since she’d arrived. “You look awfully pretty,” he said.

  She blushed and handed him the bucket of cool water with a cup. “Thank you. These were in my crates you brought from Williston. I have no idea how long they were at the post office before you went, but I’m so glad they finally shipped from Kansas. I’ve been debating with myself about whether I should cast off the dark clothing and allow myself cooler attire.”

  “I’m glad to see which side of the debate won out.” He couldn’t help but think how the blue in her dress made her blue eyes seem two shades darker. Her beauty took his breath at times. But then, with Rachel it had been the same. Lately he’d spent most of his time confused and lonely.

  Finn drained the cup in a few gulps. “Thank you. I guess was thirstier than I thought.”

  “I thought the men might need something to drink too. They work so hard in this hot sun.” She frowned. “They should take more breaks before someone winds up ill.”

  She shielded her eyes with her hand across her forehead and stared up at the new barn’s wooden frame already standing as tall as the old barn. “It’s going up much faster than I believed it would,” she said. “How is Peter working out?”

  Before making the trip to Williston, Finn had hired Rolf’s brother Peter and his uncle Ian to begin removing debris and cleaning up the site where the old barn sat. After he returned, he’d kept them both on to make the building of the barn go that much faster.

  “Good. He works hard.” As did Ian. But there was something about Ian that didn’t quite sit well with Finn. He’d kept a close eye on the man over the past week since he’d been back from Williston with the others, but so far, his concerns had seemed unfounded.

  Rosemary watched the men work. She nodded toward Peter, who was pounding a board onto one of the walls. “I noticed last night at supper that Marta seems to have switched affections from Rolf to Peter. Is that causing any problems?”

  “Between the brothers?” Finn shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Did you even know there might be bad feelings between them over a girl?” Rosemary laughed and gave his arm a playful shove. “Never mind. I can tell by the look on your face that you have no idea what I’m talking about.”

  “Sorry.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I reckon I’m oblivious to young love.”

  “You’d best get unoblivious before Sarah grows up, or you’ll be in trouble. She’s going to be a beauty when she’s Marta’s age.”

  “Lucky for us both we’ll have you to keep me aware of any young men who show an interest in her.”

  Her expression went from teasing to pensive and she expelled a weighted breath. “What do you think will happen with Mr. Clayton?” She shook her head. “What if the violence escalates and these people I’m responsible for truly are in danger?”

  “I don’t know.” He wanted to pull her to him and comfort her, reassure her. But to do so would confuse the relationship between them even more. Some days they argued like the worst of enemies, only to make up the following day—like the haircut incident.

  Rachel had never fought with him, so Rosemary’s volatile temperament and her need to defend herself still took him aback even after three months. Other times they laughed and chatted like old friends, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating each other’s needs—as she had with the water just now.

  He hadn’t asked her to marry him again, though he still believed that would solve her problem with Clayton. She knew he believed marriage to be her best solution as well as his concerning Sarah, but so
far she wasn’t inclined to change her mind. And he’d already asked her twice. He wasn’t going to ask her again. A man had his pride.

  He knew there were two things keeping her from agreeing to marry him when the preacher came, which should be any time now. First, she didn’t want to be his replacement for Rachel. He had grown to know her enough that he understood it now and respected her decision. While he still couldn’t honestly say to her, “Rosemary, I love you,” and mean it in the romantic sense of the word, the two had become closer than friends since the town dance last month. At least to his way of thinking.

  She now took his arm automatically when they walked together. And there had been times when they sat on the porch together and she had laid her head on his shoulder. But whether he loved her was only part of the reason she wasn’t willing to stand before the preacher. She wanted to beat Clayton. Finn wasn’t sure why it meant so much to her, but she simply wasn’t willing to marry him and let him add his name to hers on the claim, making it that much harder for Clayton to try to take away the land.

  “Well,” Rosemary said, “I’d best get back inside. The meals are more than Agnes can manage alone these days.”

  “It’ll be good to get the barn finished and have things return to normal?”

  She nodded, but her eyes clouded over. Was it worry? “Everything okay?” Finn asked.

  “Agnes.”

  Alarm seized him. “Is something wrong with her?”

  Rosemary shrugged. “I’m not sure. She’s been ill lately, and if I can be so bold, I don’t think Sarah is getting the milk she was before. She seems to be wanting to be fed more times in the day. It’s wearing Agnes out and frustrating the baby.”

  “Have you discussed it with Agnes?” Just hearing that there might be a problem sent his mind spinning back to the days before Agnes came to live with Rosemary and saved his daughter. Had it just been two months ago that Sarah was too thin and pale? He hadn’t even realized how malnourished she’d appeared until she began to thrive under Agnes’s care.

  “She tells me not to ‘vorry,’ ” she said. “I just don’t know.” Her gaze moved past him. “Someone’s coming.”

  Finn heard hoofbeats and followed her gaze. His stomach clenched as he recognized the black suit and sturdy build of the approaching rider. “It’s the circuit preacher,” he said.

  Rosemary’s face crimsoned at the news. “I’d best go tell Agnes to set another place for supper. Will you please welcome him and invite him to join us? He’s more than welcome to stay in the bunkhouse with the men.”

  Without awaiting his response, she bolted toward the house. Finn barely contained a grin. Rosemary had grown up in a town that had always had a preacher. When a person died, the preacher immediately said words. When someone wanted to marry, they planned the wedding and the preacher performed the ceremony. But even though progress and modern ways were moving from the cities to places like Hayes, Kansas, here in North Dakota life remained much the same as it had been for pioneers thirty years before. There was no church and no permanent preacher. Reverend Bishop rode his circuit through this country and sometimes only made it once a year.

  From the way Rosemary had fled to the house, Finn knew she was every bit aware that she had a decision to make. If she had any inclination to marry him this year, she had less than a week to say so. The preacher would provide comfort for those in mourning, he would preach a revival in City Hall, and he would marry anyone within a thirty-mile radius who wanted to get married. And then he’d be gone.

  * * * * *

  Rosemary knew Agnes and Marta were watching her all through the meal. Gracious, she had already given her answer to Finn and there was no need for anyone to think that she might decide otherwise. She repeated this to herself over and over, though her heart refused to believe it. She deftly avoided all eye contact—or contact of any other sort—all evening while the reverend shared stories of his travels with the entire group.

  Of course she wanted to marry Finn. She had admitted to herself, if to no one else, that she had fallen in love. But that didn’t fix the problem that Finn didn’t love her. She knew he cared about her as a man cares for a friend. She also knew that he would be a good and faithful husband and would likely give her children of her own. But his heart would always be looking for Rachel. He would hold her at night and she would believe he was pretending to hold her sister, and she would never be able to bear the pain she would feel.

  Feeling Finn’s eyes on her, and Agnes’s and Marta’s, her chest began to tighten and her breath came in short bursts. She stood suddenly and knocked over her glass. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped out. “Please excuse me.”

  She maneuvered her way through the kitchen, into the living room, and past the workers. “Excuse me,” she said as she bumped against someone. She burst through the door and started to run. She heard Finn calling her name, but she didn’t stop. Instead, she picked up her pace and headed for the fields. Her favorite pasture had a tiny creek, more a watering hole for the sheep, but she loved sitting on the grass with her shoes off, letting the water run across her feet. Only she had never gone out there in the dark. And as she ran, she lost her bearings. How could she have been so stupid as to run out without a lantern?

  She had run too far from the house to see the lights.

  “Rosemary!” Finn’s voice filled her with both dread and relief. As much as she hated the idea of a confrontation, the idea never crossed her mind not to call out to him. “I’m here, Finn. I can’t see where I am.”

  “Keep talking. I’m coming. Do you see my lantern?”

  “Yes. I’m over here.”

  Within a couple of minutes, he reached her. He dismounted and walked his horse to her. “What were you thinking?” His voice held no accusation or anger.

  She released a shaky breath and tried to push her loose hair from her face. “I wasn’t thinking at all, obviously. I just needed to leave the house. Everyone was staring and expecting us to announce a wedding, and it was just too much.”

  “I take it you haven’t changed your mind?” There was no mistaking the disappointment in his tone. Rosemary couldn’t help but wish the disappointment stemmed from Finn’s love for her and not simply his need to provide Sarah with a mother.

  Rosemary opened her mouth to apologize once again, but he quieted her with an upraised hand. “But,” he said.

  “But?”

  He smiled and said, “Yes. But.”

  Rosemary laughed. “You’re disappointed that the sight of the preacher didn’t send me rushing to the altar, but…” Already Rosemary’s pulse was beginning to return to normal as his calm reaction soothed her.

  “Right.” He hung the lantern on the fence post, turned to her, and, taking both her hands in his, said, “But I am still glad to have you in my life and in Sarah’s life. Even if you’re ‘Auntie’ instead of ‘Ma.’ ”

  Though she wished her heart could soar at his sincere words, it nearly broke instead. He had to know that she was waiting for him to say, “I love you, Rosemary,” and she would marry him in an instant. They could merge the homesteads and begin to build a life that was only theirs. But that was more than she knew she should hope for.

  “Thank you, Finn,” she said softly, refusing to give in to the tears. If he simply couldn’t love her, then she too would be happy to be in his life as “auntie” to Sarah.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ...........................

  Sunday morning dawned as bright as any Lord’s Day should, as far as Rosemary was concerned. Of course, they had left the house before dawn to reach Paddington before service, and just now, the sun peeking over the horizon painted a coppery sky with hints of pink as the sun rose higher with each passing minute. The beauty of the moments as they came reminded Rosemary that a hand bigger than hers was guiding her life. And as the wagon rolled forward, she became lost in silent praise, preparing her starving heart for the day ahead.

  She hadn’t attended a service since
leaving Kansas almost four months earlier, and she was more than ready to sit beside still waters and feed on God’s Word. Rosemary drove the wagon carrying Agnes and the children while Finn rode his horse next to them and his men rolled along in his wagon. The day would be long, with two services and a picnic beside the lake. The boys were ready for baseball, footraces, and the planned bonfire. They hadn’t had much time to organize the day, but the residents of Paddington were accustomed to the preacher’s unannounced visits and the necessity of quick planning.

  If the air of excitement running through their group was any indication, today promised to be a fun day. Emotions were running high, and the children couldn’t contain their laughter.

  Only Agnes seemed out of sorts. Rosemary turned to her on the seat. “Is something troubling you?”

  Agnes shook her head. “Oh no. I am not troubled.” She smiled and drew the baby closer.

  One thing Rosemary had learned since Agnes moved into the house was that the woman wouldn’t complain. The closest she had ever seen her come to complaining was the day she lost her homestead. Rosemary cut a glance from the corners of her eye. “There!” she said. “I saw you wince.”

  “Vince? Vat is that?”

  “You frowned like you’re in pain…or angry.”

  She scowled. “I am not.”

  “Mama!” Elsa called from the back of the wagon, clearly upset. At the same time, little Gerta let up a howl.

  Agnes closed her eyes, took in a breath, and then turned to her children. “Vat is it, Elsa?”

  “Gerta will not get off my dress. She is getting it creased.”

  “Gerta, precious,” Agnes said, “come, sit with Mama and Fräulein Jackson.”

  The little girl stood and toddled forward, climbed over the seat with Afonso’s help, and sat between Rosemary and Agnes. Agnes held Sarah with one arm and slipped her other around Gerta. The conversation was over for now, Rosemary knew, but she had every intention of returning to it later. Agnes wasn’t well or she was angry. Whichever the case, Rosemary intended to discover the cause and try her best to set things right for her friend.