He set his napkin on the table and sat back in the chair. He hadn’t agreed but she’d earned his attention. “What do you have in mind?”
“You milk half the cows and I do the other. We’ll see who gets the most milk the fastest.”
“What’s the prize?”
“If I win, you admit I can run this place.”
“And if I win?”
She searched her mind for something that mattered, but he already had complete power over her future. She tried to sound brave. “I don’t have anything you want.”
He leaned back in his chair and looked at her with mirth in his eyes. “Yes, you do.”
Dani had no idea. “What is it?”
“Raspberry pie.”
She’d made one three days ago from Adie’s recipe. Beau had eaten a third of it and gone to the barn, but not before Dani saw a wistfulness in his eyes. If he wanted more raspberry pie, she’d be glad to bake one.
She smiled at him. “Just to make things clear…If I win the milking contest, you’ll admit I can run this place.”
“That’s right.
“And if you win, I make a raspberry pie?”
“Exactly.”
“It doesn’t seem fair.” She wanted the contest to matter.
“It’s not about pie,” Beau said. “If I win, I expect you to take the girls to Minnesota, then go home to Wisconsin. The pie’s just because I want one.”
Dani raised her chin. “You’re pretty confident.”
“Very.”
“So am I.”
He looked her in the eye. She saw no malice, only the twinkle she’d seen earlier. “It’s a deal.”
Dani stood to clear the table. Her stomach lurched. She had to win this competition. After a last swig of coffee, Beau carried his plate to the counter, bent to pet T.C., then winked at her. “Get ready, Miss Baxter. We square off at dawn.”
A half hour later, Beau had his backside planted on a milking stool and an empty bucket between his feet. Earlier, he and Dani had met at the pasture gate. Being a gentleman, he’d given her first pick of the cows. She’d looped a rope around the closest one, Buttercup, and led the animal to the barn where he’d cleaned a second spot for today’s milking.
Beau’s first cow, a stubborn thing named Sweetness, had run from him. She wasn’t cooperating any better in the barn.
“Come on, old woman,” he muttered.
Reminding himself to be gentle, he looped his thumb and index finger around the Jersey’s teat, curled the rest of his fingers and pulled. He’d been milking the cows for more than a week. The first time had been tedious, but he’d taken Emma’s advice and tried singing hymns while he worked. He wasn’t about to do that with Dani working next to him.
She, on the other hand, had no such reluctance. He’d already heard three choruses of “Shall We Gather By The River,” each verse accompanied by the hiss of milk hitting the bucket. They’d been working for five minutes, and she’d already emptied a pail into one of the metal cans by the door. Each one was numbered and waiting for Webb, the old man who picked up for the cheese factory.
Beau tugged again on the Jersey’s teat. It didn’t help his concentration to recall Dani hurrying across the yard with a determined look in her eyes. She’d put her hair up, but he’d recalled the tendrils loose around her face. She’d looked lovely, a fact that filled Beau with memories of Lucy and a deep regret for what he’d lost. After watching Dani with the girls and eating her cooking, having all the buttons on his shirts and his socks mended, he couldn’t help but like her. She had a good heart. If ever a female needed a family to love, it was Daniela Baxter.
He even liked her name. Dani-ay-la. It felt nice on his tongue, sweet like the pie. Dani suited her, too. He could imagine her as a tomboy shoveling hay from the loft, riding horses and daring her brother to best her at contests like this one.
Sighing, Beau counted his reaction as another reason to win the milking contest. He was dead sure that stepping into the life she’d imagined would limit her future. It took a brave man to marry a woman with three children in her care. If Dani took on the farm and the girls, she might never find a husband. On her own, a pretty blonde in a town full of ranchers, she’d be married within a year. Beau had known the joy of marriage for only a short time, but he remembered the goodness, especially with Dani singing to the blasted cow who was giving more milk than it ever had for Beau. She was on her second bucket and nearly finished with the first cow.
Beau didn’t want to listen to the hymns, but he couldn’t cover his ears and milk at the same time. As Dani’s soprano filled the barn with the words to “Blessed Assurance” and its promise of Heaven, Beau tasted bile.
Irked, he tugged too hard on the Jersey’s teat. The bovine stomped her foot. He muttered an oath, then straightened his back and glared at Dani. “Do you have to sing?”
“The cows like it.” The milk hissed into her bucket. “I’m not hearing anything from your side of the barn. You might try it.”
He chuffed.
She stood and lifted the bucket, grinning as she turned to the milk can with a swing of her hip. “By the time you and Sweetness make peace, I’ll be done.”
Beau saw nothing “sweet” about Sweetness. All the cows had names. Sweetness and Light were sisters. Martha, Dolley and Mary Todd were named for former first ladies. The last five, known as the “flower girls” were Buttercup, Rose, Daisy, Lily and Daffodil. Beau watched as Dani neared the milk cans. She set down the bucket, used her long apron to get a better grip on the handle, then hoisted it and poured the milk into the can, not spilling a drop. Beau knew how much the bucket weighed. As slender as she was, Dani had strong arms and a strong back.
She covered the can with a clean towel, then went to fetch another cow. She came back with Lily. After getting the cow settled, she scratched its ears and even kissed its nose.
Sweetness swung her head around, stared at Beau, then bellowed.
Laughing, Dani sat on the stool. Five seconds later, Lily let down her milk. Dani looked over her shoulder. “Sweetness wants you to sing. There’s no getting around it.”
No way would Beau sing a hymn, but both his pride and his common sense told him he had to do something. He gave the old cow a pat on the leg, realigned the bucket and broke into “Camptown Races.” By the second “doo-dah,” Sweetness let down her milk. White streams hissed into the bucket in perfect time to the song.
Dani’s laughter pealed through the air. Beau had never heard anything quite like the mix of the silly song, her laughter and the beat of the milk. The high ceiling caught the music and bounced it back and around, filling his ears with harmonies he’d never heard. He’d become accustomed to silence, men grunting in saloons, the rush of wind and rivers and the rustling of dried leaves. Today he heard unity, oneness, especially when Dani switched from laughing to singing the “Doo-dahs” in “Camp Town Races.”
Before Beau knew it, his bucket was close to full. He stood, patted Sweetness and strode to the can assigned to him. Dani hurried up behind him and added another bucket to her can.
He had some serious catching up to do. Lowering his chin, he eyed her. “I wouldn’t get cocky if I were you. It’s not over yet.”
She smiled back. “We’ll see about that.”
She turned so fast her apron flapped. Beau went back to Sweetness, finished the milking and led her to the pasture. He came back with Light and saw Dani filling a new milk can.
He couldn’t let her win. Being a man of his word, he’d have to give serious consideration to allowing her to stay with the girls. Beau found the idea both appealing and irksome. As long as Dani and the girls were in Castle Rock, he’d have something akin to a home. Pushing the thought aside, he positioned the bucket under Light and went back to work, singing whatever tune popped into his head.
Thirty minutes later, Dani had milked Rose, Lily and Daisy. Beau had finished with Sweetness and Light. Martha, the oldest of the cows and named for Mrs. Washington, d
idn’t appreciate “Camp Town Races,” so he switched to “Pop Goes the Weasel.” Martha didn’t care for it and neither did Beau.
An old favorite came into Beau’s head. Without thinking, he sang the opening line of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” the verse about a man’s eyes seeing the glory of the coming of the Lord. It lifted Beau up. So did the next verse, the one about grapes of wrath. He’d sung the song in church in Denver. It called to his blood and his cause. Beau understood wrath. When he dreamed of finding Clay, the images weren’t pretty. He’d shake off the pictures when he awoke, but the bitterness never left.
Except right now, he felt good. Martha liked the song and let down her milk with the ease that made her the best producer. In minutes she’d given all her milk and he’d caught up with Dani. After hauling the bucket to the milk can, he fetched his fourth cow, a sweet thing named Dolley. Dani’s fourth cow was named Daffodil. Dolley had a sweet nature and gave generously. Daff was the most stubborn of the ladies, the cow who’d stepped on his foot and inspired his one use of profanity. Beau smelled victory.
As he pulled up the stool, he glanced at Dani who was coaxing Daff with clucking sounds as she worked the teats. Nothing happened. The lines tightened around her eyes.
“Come on, girl,” she said. “What’s bothering you?”
Beau had a feeling he knew. He and Daff didn’t get along, but he knew she liked being scratched between her eyes. He’d gained on Dani and almost had the lead. If he said nothing, he’d win, but he felt like a heel. He sat straight on the stool. “Give her a scratch between the eyes. It works every time.”
“Thanks.” She pushed to her feet, gave Daff a long scratch that made Beau think of his own itchy back, then sat on the stool. Milk squirted into the pail.
Without breaking the rhythm, Dani turned her head. “That was nice of you.”
“It beats hearing ‘Camptown Races’ again.”
She smiled. “I enjoyed it. You have a fine voice.”
He said nothing.
“Do you like to sing?”
His voice choked, but he answered. “Back in Denver, I sang in the church choir.”
“That’s nice.”
He blew air through his nose. Lucy had sung alto. Choir practice had been on Thursday evenings. They’d eaten supper out, and…Beau groaned out loud.
Dani stopped milking. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
But he’d wasn’t. She’d used his given name before, but today he liked the sound of it. His chest swelled with breath, with life. The barn had a window high in the wall. It cast a beam of gold light to the floor between them, catching dust motes and making a gossamer wall between himself and Dani. If he wanted, he could pass through that dust and be her friend, maybe more. But to what end? He had a call on his life. She had a broken heart. She needed the kind of life he couldn’t give.
Can’t or won’t?
Pushing aside the whisper of his conscience, Beau focused on the milk filling the bucket. A little scratching and some sweet talk and the cows gave generously. He thought of Dani’s good cooking and the girls playing checkers on the porch. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d react as generously as Martha. He’d give his all for this little family.
The barn door creaked open. Along with the hiss of the milk, Beau heard the pad of little-girl feet. He’d never heard that particular scuff until he’d arrived at the farm. Men took long, thumping steps. Boys ran. Little girls scampered, even when they were sad and missing their daddies.
“Who’s there?” Dani called from the stall.
“It’s me.”
Beau recognized Ellie’s voice and looked up. She’d reached Dolley and had stopped to scratch her. Dressed in coveralls as always, she reminded Beau of Patrick at that age. They’d grown up in Indiana on a farm similar to this one, half brothers with Beau the elder by three years. Patrick had been the baby of the family, their mother’s favorite and his father’s pride. Beau’s own father, a man he didn’t recall, had died in a wagon accident. Beau had toughened up early in life. Losing a father forced a boy to grow up.
Ellie rubbed the side of Martha’s head. “I used to help Pa with the milking.”
What did a man say to a hurting little girl? Did he talk about Heaven? Beau had rebelled every time some well-meaning fool told him Lucy was in a better place. What could have been better than sharing his bed, his home, meals at the table he’d built with children in mind.
His gaze slid to Dani. She had already straightened and was looking at him with the same sad expression he’d seen in the cemetery. Then and there, Beau lost the milking contest. Dani needed these children. She needed the farm, a home of her own, and he could give them to her.
He rose from the stool and called to Ellie. “Want to finish with Dolley?”
The child’s eyes showed all the chaos in her heart. He wasn’t her father, but he looked enough like Patrick to stir up memories. Just for now, he could fill the hole in her life.
“I don’t know,” Ellie said.
Beau kept his expression gentle. “Dolley misses your pa, too. She’d like it if you’d help.”
Ellie’s eyes widened and her lips parted as if she wanted to speak. Beau recognized the signs of knowledge dawning on her face. Her father was gone, but life would go on. He’d felt that way when he’d eaten Dani’s raspberry pie.
Ellie stroked Martha’s nose, then looked at Beau. “I can finish. My pa taught me everything.”
As she took his place, Beau stepped into the aisle. He heard the hiss-hiss of Dani milking Daffodil. As he turned, she met his gaze with a question in her eyes. What about the contest?
Beau had no doubt about the outcome. Even if he’d edged Dani by a pound or two, she’d bested him in spirit. She knew about breeding, milk prices, feed crops, even confounded things called silos. Even more important, she loved the animals like children. Never again would he hear “Camptown Races” without thinking of this day.
Beau spoke softly. “You won, Dani.” He’d used her given name. It tasted sweet, like the berries.
She blushed. “Does that mean…”
She was asking about adopting the girls. “I don’t know yet, but you’re closer.”
He still had concerns. What would happen if Dani lost her heart to a man with his own ambitions? Grief-stricken women made foolish choices. They married too soon and lived with regrets. Before he handed her the responsibility of the farm, he had to be sure she knew the facts. That meant having a long, private talk. Maybe tonight…Beau bristled at the thought. He didn’t want to see Dani in the moonlight. He’d have to find another time.
She’d filled a bucket, so he lifted it and carried it to the milk can. When he brought it back, he took Ellie’s pail and did the same thing. When the last cow was milked, Dani carried the buckets to the well for scrubbing. Beau lifted a shovel and headed for the horse stalls. Ellie picked up a smaller shovel and followed him.
“Uncle Beau?”
“Yes?”
“Do you like to fish?”
“Sure.”
A graybeard in Wyoming had taught him to fly-fish on the Snake River. Beau liked it quite a bit. If he kept his eyes on the water, the current caught his thoughts and carried them away.
Ellie dumped a load of dirty straw into the wheelbarrow. “I like it, too. Pa used to take me.”
Beau felt the itch as if it were his own. “Where’d he take you?”
“To a stream that’s near the mountains. It’s pretty far, but I bet it’s running fast.”
“Trout?” Beau asked.
“Big ones.”
Beau thought for a minute. Planting season was coming to a close. He had to get the alfalfa in the ground, and he wanted to build Dani’s silo. Fishing sounded like pure pleasure, but he couldn’t say yes. He looked at Ellie, intending to change the subject. Her blue eyes were alive with hope, a bit of sunshine that melted Beau’s heart. He’d plant tomorrow. Today had needs of a different kind. Ellie nee
ded new memories, plus he could speak to Dani in private while the girls caught tadpoles.
He braced the shovel on the floor and put his boot on the blade. “How’d you like to go fishing right now?”
“I’d like that.”
“Me, too,” Beau said.
Ellie smiled. “Can I tell my sisters?”
“Let’s check with Miss Dani first.”
They went back to shoveling, working even faster than before. When Dani brought the clean buckets into the barn, Ellie blurted the question about fishing.
Dani smiled. “That sounds like fun.”
“We can have a picnic,” Ellie added.
Dani looked at Beau, saying with her eyes that he’d made her proud. Peace washed over him. Just for today, he belonged on the banks of that stream, listening to the water, the wind, the chatter of three little girls and a pretty woman. As Dani turned to leave, he watched the sway of her skirt, a deep blue that matched her eyes. The light from the window caught in the crown of her braid and glinted gold.
Beau pitched another forkful of straw. Before he knew it, he was humming “Camptown Races.”
Chapter Seven
Dani watched Beau’s hands as he wielded his pocketknife against an apple, removing the red peel in a single strand. When she’d first laid eyes on him, she’d taken his measure by his hands and doubted his character. Today she saw a man capable of a gentle touch and great patience.
The picnic had been relaxing except for Emma’s fussing. Back at the farm, she’d been uninterested in packing the food and had worried about the long wagon ride to Sparrow Creek. She’d also been rude to Beau, who’d endured the girl’s sass without a single harsh word. While he and Ellie caught trout, Emma had followed Esther like a shadow, warning her about rocks and ruts and everything in between.
With the sun high in the sky, the five of them were seated on a blanket Dani had spread beneath a cottonwood. She’d passed out sandwiches and apples and was enjoying the sunshine. Beau sat across from her with his back against the tree, his legs bent and his forearms resting on his knees while he peeled the apple. Ellie had positioned herself at his elbow, and Esther had curled up in Dani’s lap. Emma was seated between Dani and Ellie.
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